Obsession Untamed (Feral Warriors #2)(6)

It was a major nuisance, necessitating dark, wraparound sunglasses whenever he was in human public, day or night. Tiger eyes were damned hard to pass off as human. And the humans needed to think he was one of them. If there was one agreement between the immortal races, it was that the humans continue to believe they were alone.

Lyon growled. “Your eyes.”

Tighe shrugged and grinned at his chief. “She’s a beautiful woman, Roar.” He winked at Kara. “Do you want me to put on the shades?”

Kara’s soft trill of laughter eased the craziness inside him. “It’s not like I don’t know why you wear sunglasses in the house.” She pulled out of his embrace and returned to her mate, looping her arm around Lyon’s waist. “I’m flattered, Tighe, and head over heels in love with my lion.” She grinned. “But you know that.”

Tighe laughed. “Yeah, I noticed. Lucky bastard.”

The growl that came from Lyon’s throat held a note of hard satisfaction. “You need to get one of these for yourself.”

“A mate? Hell no.” He winked at Kara. “Not unless I can have yours.”

At the teasing words, Lyon tightened his hold.

Tighe shook his head. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Roar.” The pleasure he felt that his friend had found his one true mate after all these centuries was bittersweet. Tighe remembered all too well how love could transform a man, clearing his vision and changing his world. And how it could destroy him.

Lyon smiled, his gaze dropping to Kara’s sweet face. “Sometimes you have to risk your heart.”

Tighe prayed Lyon never felt the cutting pain from the other side of that double-edged blade.

“Let’s eat.” Lyon turned Kara toward the large formal dining table that sat in front of the wall of windows looking onto sunlit woods.

Foxx, Paenther, and Wulfe were already seated, but as he approached the table, each rose and greeted him.

Foxx, who’d only been with them a couple of years and was genuinely twenty-three, nodded to him, his shaggy red hair falling in his face. “Tighe.”

As Foxx returned to his seat, Paenther, Lyon’s second-in-command, grasped his arm, his intense black eyes boring into him. The warrior, three-quarters Native American, had the bronzed skin and black hair and eyes of his human ancestors. A tribal tattoo snaked up his neck, while across one eye slashed the claw marks that marked him as a Feral Warrior. Dressed head to toe in leather, vibrating with a fine rage long ago burned into his soul by the Mage, he was a man whom others gave a wide berth. Except those few who knew him well.

Paenther, alone, never asked him how he was doing. But his friend’s deep concern came through in the too-tight grip on his wrist and the length of time he held the greeting.

“Find him,” Paenther said, his voice low, but tight. “I wish I could help.”

Tighe shook his head. “We’ll find the clone. You and Foxx find Vhyper and that blade. Of the two tasks, yours is by far the more important, B.P. If I die, another Feral will be marked. You won’t be down a man.”

That black gaze never wavered. “You’re not expendable, Stripes. Find him. I won’t lose you, too.”

Tighe found his grin. “Then I’ll find him.” The smile died as quickly as it was born, worry closing around his heart. “I’m doing my best, B.P.” But he was seriously worried his best was going to be too damn little. And too damn late.

“News.” Wulfe’s deep voice echoed off the walls of the dining room.

Tighe turned to the newly installed flat-screen hanging on the wall behind him. And froze.

“The killer some are calling the D.C. Vampire struck again last night in southwest. Jeanine Tinnings was slain in the same mysterious manner as at least ten others in the past three days.” In the middle of the screen was a photo of a laughing blond woman holding a chubby-cheeked toddler.

The air left Tighe’s lungs as if he’d been sucker punched. He was staring at the face of the woman who’d been folding the laundry, the first of the two women he’d thought he’d killed. Or would kill.

She was already dead.

The hard knot of dread slowly dissolved in his chest. He wasn’t going to kill her.

Ah, shit. That meant there would be no saving the other one, either. The dark-haired FBI beauty with the warrior’s eyes must already be dead, too.

Which meant…Chills rushed along the surface of his flesh. “It wasn’t a premonition,” he said out loud.

Lyon’s gaze swung to him. “What wasn’t a premonition?”

“I saw her die last night. Through the eyes of the killer. I thought I was seeing the future.”

Paenther looked at him with surprise. “You’re starting to see through your clone’s eyes.”

Tighe nodded slowly. “At least when he kills.”

“This is the break we need.” Lyon’s eyes began to glitter. “If you can identify where a murder is taking place, we may finally have a way to catch that son of a bitch.”

The crushing weight of the two deaths lifted from Tighe’s shoulders, but the relief was slight. The women were still dead even if he hadn’t been the one to kill them. And there was still a strong likelihood he’d end up as crazed and deadly as he’d feared. As Wulfe had. Little by little, he’d lose control until he finally tumbled into a feral rage from which he couldn’t escape.