Hunger Untamed (Feral Warriors #5)(45)

He caught the next one across his left shoulder. The fourth tore through the back of his skull. He could barely think, barely breathe. His entire existence, his purpose for living, narrowed down to one thing--keeping the bolts from striking the woman in his arms.

How many attacked him, he didn't know. Time ceased to exist. He was so dazed with pain that he didn't realize the attack was over until Ariana collapsed, nearly falling to her knees before he caught her.

With a wary, cautious breath, he swung her up into his arms, then leaped clear of the pool before another bolt could flay them. He headed for the stairs, wanting only to get her the hell out of there. It occurred to him that he had no idea if she'd learned what she needed to know.

But at that moment, Ariana's safety was his only concern.

Chapter Twelve

Ariana rose to consciousness slowly, disoriented, her body ablaze with pain. Kougar's familiar scent and the feel of his strong arms grounded her, dispersing her fear, and she sank against the warmth of his chest as she tried to remember where she was. And why.

They were climbing upward. Climbing stairs. Twisty, spiral stairs.

The temple.

With a jerk, she came fully awake, shifting in his arms, hooking one arm around his neck and pulling herself up with a blast of pain. "Kougar, no! I can't leave. It's not done. I've learned nothing."

"It attacked you."

"Morwun demanded pain as her price. Kougar, I have to go back."

But he wasn't listening, and her strength had never been a match for his. Especially now. She hurt, as if every cell in her body had been lit on fire. Her head, too heavy to hold up, fell against the side of his neck as he took the stairs at a fast climb. Even her hands and feet were beginning to prickle in the way they did when the darkness inside her grew hungry.

In her dazed mind, small memories popped forth like warm puffs of air. The metallic smell of her own warm blood as she cut her wrists to paint her body for ritual. The pleas and screams of an Ilina maiden as she curled her fingers around the traitor's heart and pulled it from her chest. The sweet pleasure of release as she rode a male she didn't recognize. Because the memories weren't hers, but those of the queens who'd come before. Scattered, confused knowledge that might prove to be of some help if she could make sense of any of it.

Moments later, Kougar burst through the warded door and into the upper of the queen's chambers, the room light and airy compared to the one below. Melisande stood where Ariana had left her, ankle deep in the floor, while Jag fought back would-be invaders at the base of the upper stair, his bare back gleaming with sweat.

"Mage?" she asked.

"Yes." Kougar's arms tightened around her. "They followed us down here."

"I can seal the door." How she knew that, she wasn't sure, but she began to whisper the ancient chant that came to her. Seconds later a wall appeared between Jag and his opponents.

The Feral sprang back in the nick of time, but the Mage surged forward. A mistake. A yell of agony filtered through the wall as his hand, sticking out through the solid stone, dropped its useless knife to clatter on the floor below.

Jag whirled, his expression fierce until it landed on her. "Did you do that? How about a little warning next time, sister? Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that our only way out?"

"You've acquired new knowledge," Kougar murmured against her temple, a fine thread of expectation sharpening his words. He pulled back, and she met his gaze.

"Not enough. Not all."

"You don't know that."

"Yes. I do. I have to go back."

The air felt queer, almost bubbly, against her skin. She tightened her hold on Kougar's neck, excitement lifting her pulse. "I can feel the magic in here, the magic that trapped Melisande." Closing her eyes, she let the knowledge flow into her. "It will trap any Ilina turning from mist to flesh." She opened her eyes again, meeting Kougar's gaze. "Which is why it didn't trap me, too."

"How do you know?"

"I couldn't read the magic before. Now I can. I can block it." Softly, she began to sing one of the Ilina songs of enchantment. Slowly, she felt the magic in the chamber dissolve and the strangeness leave the air. "It's done."

"Fail." Jag nodded toward Melisande. "Peter Pan there is still trapped like an ex-Mafia boss in cement shoes." He sauntered over to Melisande, squatting at her feet. Wrapping one large hand around her ankle, he gave a small tug. "Caught fast." He looked up at the mist warrior, whose complexion had turned pasty white. "Are you sure your feet are still in there?"

Melisande scowled. "They're in there. And the moment they're free, I'll prove it to you by kicking you in the balls."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what all the girls say."

"I don't have the knowledge to free you, Mel, but no one else should get caught. If I come up with the magic . . ."

"Screw magic," Jag muttered, rising. "What we need is a jackhammer."

Kougar tightened his hold on her. "He's right."

Melisande's gaze shot to Ariana's. "You can't let them destroy the temple."

Ariana sighed. "Call Getrill, Melisande. You're a lot more important to me than the temple."

Melisande met her gaze, fear written all over her face. She was afraid Ariana was mistaken, that Getrill, too, would become trapped. Ariana could see that truth in her eyes, even if she didn't say the words out loud.