Obsession Untamed (Feral Warriors #2)(21)

Except she couldn’t escape. She couldn’t even move!

He’d lost it. Completely. Even before he’d turned into Olaf the Berserker, she’d felt it, as if the storm swirling inside him were visible.

Had he, too, been experimenting with the drug? Was that to be her destiny?

A new sound burst into the room. “Tighe!” a man shouted as, closer by, strong arms lifted her.

“Let’s get you out of here,” a deeply masculine voice said.

“I’m all for that.”

The man carried her from the destruction zone to lay her on what felt like a sofa in another room. “Are you injured?”

“No. He did something to me before he turned crazy. I can’t move. I can’t even open my eyes.”

“Interesting. Stay here.”

“That’s what they all say,” Delaney muttered, then lay there listening to the sound of fighting like nothing she’d ever heard. Thudding, snarling, slashing. Like they’d turned into animals or something. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or dismayed to learn there were more of them.

“Get off me.” Tighe’s deep growl carried to where she lay. “The woman?”

“Is on the sofa.”

Delaney blinked. She froze as her eyes went wide. She could open her eyes again. Halleluiah. As her gaze took in the small, unoccupied living room, she tried to sit up. Grunting and straining against the invisible hand, she managed to prop her elbows under her. Elation swam through her as she panted with exertion.

The drug was wearing off.

“Is she sleeping? Or dead?” Tighe’s voice carried from the bedroom.

“Unharmed as far as I can tell, but she can’t move. What did you do to her?”

“I got control of her, just not her mind.”

“Eliminate her,” a third, hard voice chimed in. Not the voice of the man who’d carried her to safety. Not the voice of anyone she wanted to come face-to-face with without her Glock.

Again, she struggled to sit up, and like magic, was free. The drug had worn off!

“No one’s harming her.” Tighe’s voice. Yeah, Tighe. “Leave. I’ll see to her.”

“No,” Delaney muttered under her breath as she swung off the sofa and crept to the door. “I’ll leave. I’ll see to her.”

“We’re staying,” said the man who’d carried her out of the room.

“No you’re not.” Tighe’s voice was too close. No longer in the bedroom. “Hell.”

He’d spotted her.

Pulse racing, blood pounding in her ears, Delaney lunged for the door. Her hand closed around the knob, twisted and jerked hard, but the door opened only a couple of inches before slamming shut again. Tighe’s overwhelming presence loomed over her from behind.

She tried to whirl around, but he pressed her, face-first, against the door, his breath harsh in her ear.

“Don’t fear me.”

“Let me go, Tighe. Please.”

“Can’t do that.” He eased back a fraction, not so much that she could turn around, but enough that he was no longer laying his full weight against her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, his expression grim as he appeared to stare down at her through the shades. “Where? Where did I hurt you?”

She gasped as she got a good look at him despite the shadows. He was a mess. Good grief. His face and body were streaked with blood, his shirt nearly shredded. Yet she couldn’t make out any injuries. No open, bleeding flesh. Not even any scratches to account for the blood.

Did that mean it wasn’t his? Yet how could he not be harmed with his clothing in tatters? The soft fluttering in her head intensified, as if the angel wings were agitated by the sight of him. The sensation echoed in her chest. As if she were worried about him. As if whatever he’d done to her made her think she cared.

His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Where are you hurt, Delaney?”

“I’m not, but I don’t think I can say the same for you.”

He glanced down at himself as if realizing for the first time what he looked like. “I’m fine. I didn’t hurt you?”

“No. Your friend got me out of there before you chucked any furniture my way.” She stared at him. “I guess he’s your friend? Good grief, one of them nearly killed you.”

Tighe grunted. “They look as bad as I do. And, yeah, they’re my friends. They heard me destroying the place and came to offer a little well-timed intervention.” He released her shoulder to stroke her hair. “Thank the goddess, I didn’t hurt you.”

She almost told him not to touch her hair, not to stroke her, but couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. His touch felt good. As if he cared. At least as if he cared that he hadn’t hurt her.

“Was it the drugs that sent you…over the edge?” she asked carefully.

He stilled. “The drugs?”

She sighed. “Right. No drugs involved here. You just waved your magic wand and got control of me like that.”

Oddly, the tension seemed to drain out of him. “Oh. That drug.”

“Tighe, there’s some nasty shit going on here,” she said quietly, reaching for his face as if she meant to press her palm to his cheek. She snatched her hand back. Yet that fluttering in her head whispered that he needed her touch. He needed her.