Hunger Untamed (Feral Warriors #5)(68)

"Would you normally try to feed it at this point?"

"Yes." She met his gaze. "The battle begins."

"Brielle!" His shout rang down into the garden. A moment later, the Ilina appeared beside him, a naked, mistlike wraith cloaked by a tumble of waist-length dark curls. "Go to Feral House and tell Lyon I need flowers. As many of them as he can get his hands on in the next twenty minutes." Ariana was going to need all the strength . . . all the pleasure . . . he could give her.

Wulfe stood in the shadows between two old brick buildings in downtown Harpers Ferry, spring sunshine warming the sidewalk at his feet. But he barely noticed the sun or the people strolling by, their steps quickening as they caught sight of him. His gaze was fixed on the store across the narrow street, on the window crammed with T-shirts, Confederate soldier caps, plastic place mats with Civil War battlefield scenes in faded colors. And Natalie.

A short while ago, he'd laid the unconscious women on the grass not far from where the Ferals had left the bodies of their friends days ago. Then he'd stayed close enough to keep watch over them until they woke. Until Natalie led Christy into town as he'd directed her to when he took her memories.

Standing in the window, holding a borrowed cell phone to her ear, Natalie looked out of place, her clothes rumpled, her hair tangled and unwashed. The Ferals had made the conscious decision to return the two women to their world looking like they'd been held captive, deciding their stories of not remembering anything would be far more likely to be believed than if they appeared well cared for.

But even unkempt and a little wild-looking, Natalie exuded an air of calm confidence. And he had a hard time tearing his gaze away from her. She remained on the phone until a silver Mercedes pulled up in front of the store, stopping in the middle of the narrow road with an impatient screech of brakes. A strong-looking young man in a business suit leaped out and ran around the car even as Natalie rushed out the door to meet him, Christy close behind her. The man swept Natalie into his arms and cradled her against him, the sun glinting off the tears on his cheeks.

Wulfe shook out his knotted fists and consciously relaxed his jaw. This was good, the way it should be. Natalie was back in her world with a man who clearly loved her, a man who would stand by her and help her through the tough days to come.

Natalie Cash was no longer his concern.

Ariana watched as a dozen of her maidens misted into her private garden, once more dressed in their festival gowns, their arms laden with blooms of every kind and hue. Gorgeous arrangements in glass vases were set atop sapphire rocks in the small private garden outside the queen's chambers. Beribboned pots were lined up like fragrant soldiers along the crystal walk. And single-stemmed roses, tulips, and lilies were scattered over the rocks and silk pillows, and across the lip of the pool, as if strewn by a gentle wind.

Kougar stood at her back, his arms around her, his chin on the top of her head as his pelvis pressed against her backside, his thick erection telling her he was more than ready for the task ahead.

But amid such beauty, with seduction and passion moments away, all she could think of was blood. The darkness, with its ravenous hunger, clawed at her control, demanding pain. And blood. Anyone's blood.

"Smell," Kougar said, his hand sliding restlessly across her abdomen, down one of her hips and back up again. "Smell the flowers, Ariana."

And she did. The blooms filled the air, a glorious profusion of sweet scents that pleased her Ilina need for beauty of all kinds.

"I'm going to make love to you among the flowers," he whispered against her temple, his hands growing more restless, more needy by the moment. "I'm going to caress your body with rose petals, then follow every inch with my lips."

His words battled back the growing need for violence within her. The flowers themselves warmed her heart--the fact that after all this time, he remembered what pleased her most.

One by one, the maidens left, some walking out, some misting. Only Brielle remained, her hands clasped before her, her eyes unhappy.

Ariana frowned. "What's the matter, Brie?"

Brielle's gaze didn't meet hers but remained fixed on Kougar. "I have a message from Lyon." She glanced at Ariana, apology in her eyes, before meeting Kougar's gaze once more. "The tiger shifter's mate is with child."

Ariana felt Kougar's surprise, his grip on her tightening. The tiger shifter would be Tighe. One of the Ferals in the spirit trap. Oh, no.

Brielle continued. "Because his mate is not true Therian, the child appears to be drawing much of its life force from its father. The shifter's mate has been in contact with him and is still able to sense him, but he's lost all consciousness and appears to be weakening quickly. She fears he doesn't have much longer. Hours, not days. Lyon wished you to know."

With each word, Kougar's body turned stiffer, more rigid, until she felt as if she were being held by a man of stone. A stone that was beginning to quake.

"I'm sorry," Brielle whispered, then misted away.

Ariana lifted her hand to Kougar's cheek, turning in his arms to look at him. Raging fury gleamed in his eyes. And a desperate determination.

"We have to make this work." His words were so low as to be almost a growl.

"It's going to work." Her hand on his cheek began to curl as the darkness inside her clamored for blood. She snatched it away before she could score his flesh.