Hunger Untamed (Feral Warriors #5)(33)

She hesitated only a moment before doing as he asked. He opened his hand, covering her wound, and half her face, with his palm.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

Beneath his palm, her heart beat, throbbing beneath the surface of her skin. Once more, her scent wrapped around him like a warm summer breeze.

"I'm something of a healer." Sometimes. His own cheek began to burn and throb with surprising misery. How did humans stand the pain that took so long to go away? "How do you feel?"

"The pain's gone." Her voice held a note of wonder.

Lifting his hand, he peered at her cheekbone with keen satisfaction. The wound was gone completely now, her cheek unblemished.

She opened her eyes, blinking. "How did you . . . ?" Her gaze locked onto his cheek, to the throbbing, aching wound he knew to be there, now. Her hand flew to her own cheek, then rubbed, as if seeking . . . anything.

"What have you done?"

Wulfe shrugged. "What's one more?"

But he saw no gratitude in her eyes, only a keen dismay. "No, no, no." Her brows knit. She grabbed his face between her hands without fear, staring at him, at the cut that would mark him as all the others had. To his amazement, her fingers slid gently over his scarred cheeks. "You took it."

Her voice was breathless, stunned. She stared up at him, pain in her eyes. "Why?"

He frowned, confused by her reaction. The last thing he'd meant to do was upset her. But the truth was, he didn't have an answer. He wasn't sure why he'd done it. Maybe he just didn't like seeing her suffer when he could help. Or maybe he hadn't liked the sight of that ugly scar on her pretty face.

What difference did it make? Women were so damn hard to please.

He turned away, breaking her soft hold on him and ending the discussion. "Lie down." The words came out harsher than he'd meant them to.

But when he turned back to her, she was still standing where he'd left her, still staring at him. Although her brows were still drawn, her eyes no longer flashed with pain but something infinitely softer.

"Will you heal?"

"Of course."

"But it'll scar you."

"Like I said, what's one more?"

"Plenty." The softness in her eyes deepened, a fine film of moisture making them shine like diamonds. "That may have been the most unselfish thing anyone's ever done for me. And I don't even know your name."

"I'm called Wulfe."

Understanding lit her gaze, the memory of watching him shift, he was certain. "I suppose that makes sense. Thank you, Wulfe."

He nodded, his jaw tight. Then he slid his hand to her neck and pressed beneath her ear, feeling a need to close those eyes that saw too much. As she fell unconscious, he caught her, then laid her down carefully on one of the pallets someone had brought down for the prisoners.

Straightening, he stared down at her, clenching his jaw at her now-unblemished beauty.

With a burst of self-disgust, he turned away.

Chapter Nine

Ariana woke suddenly, her body tensing at the feel of warm flesh beneath her cheek until she caught the wonderful, familiar scent. Kougar's. Her head was on his shoulder, one of his arms gripped tight around her waist, his bare chest rising and falling in a deep, even rhythm, telling her he was fast asleep.

For an achingly sweet moment, her world felt as if it had righted itself. As if the nightmare of the past millennium was nothing more than a dream, and life was as it had always been meant to be. With her waking in Kougar's arms.

Ariana jerked. Sweet goddess, what was she doing in his arms? It was the last place she needed to be. He was supposed to be hating her, not holding her!

Her heart at once melted and squeezed with fear as she slipped free of his hold and sat up. With an unintelligible murmur, Kougar rolled onto his side away from her.

Raking her hair back from her face with both hands, she turned inward and examined the mating bond. Dammit, dammit. As she feared, it had begun to unkink. It still looked mangled and sunken in on itself, but the poison was beginning to trickle through steadily.

Not good, not good, not good. Yet what could she do about it? She'd known this would happen if he found out the truth--that she'd severed the mating bond to save him. Sooner or later, he'd forgive her the rest. And once he did, the poison would begin to flow freely.

Pulling her knees up, she curled her arms around them. It was too late to try to arrest the opening of the mating bond. Their only chance now, as far as she could see, was for the Ferals and their Mage allies to figure out who Hookeye was and locate him. Maybe they really could. Maybe it would work. But she'd long, long ago quit believing in miracles. And this situation would take a big one.

Despair filled the room as she dipped her head and rested her chin on her updrawn knees. She hated being forced to let others take the lead in her battles; but, unable to turn to mist, she'd long ago been relegated to the sidelines. Then again, she was the one with her finger in the dike. If she allowed the floodwaters, or in this case the poison, to flow, all would die. Not the sidelines, perhaps, but the center, with all those around trying to help her hold on, trying to find a way to destroy the poison before she could no longer hold back the killing tide.

Her life hadn't been her own to control in a very, very long time. Even now . . .

She needed to call the hospital and let them know she wouldn't be in for a few days. There was a good chance she wouldn't be back at all. If the Ferals' attempt to locate Hookeye failed, if Kougar died, there would no longer be a reason for her to remain close to Feral House. Once the mating bond was truly, permanently severed, she could go anywhere--except home to the Crystal Realm.