Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)(3)

Lyon held his gaze, his own hard. "The Earth retaliates when we kill the Mage. The Elemental has already died this day. The witch is safely locked away in our prison. It is enough."

Paenther held firm. "She must die. Her power over us must die for Vincent to shift."

The Chief of the Ferals shook his head, unbending. "We shall try again, this moment."

Fury and denial stole Paenther's fraying control. Before Lyon could turn away, Paenther ripped the knife out of Kougar's hand and plunged it into Lyon's breast, pressing it against his heart.

In a lightning-fast move, Lyon grabbed him around the neck, his claws sprouting and sinking deep into Paenther's throat until the blood ran warm down his chest.

Animals growled all around him, the tension on the rock turning thick as tree sap in winter. If Paenther killed their chief, he'd never take another step. But none dared tackle him when doing so might cut out their leader's heart.

Lyon's fangs dropped, his eyes turning the glowing amber of a lion's. "You would kill me?" he growled, his voice calm, but deadly.

"Not unless you give me no choice. I will do whatever I must to save his life as he saved mine."

For long, breathless moments, the two bleeding men stared one another down. On some dark level of his mind, Paenther knew he was sacrificing his status as a Feral Warrior in order to preserve Vincent's. The devastation of that thought was nothing compared to his desperation to save his friend.

Finally, never taking his eyes from Paenther's, Lyon spoke, his voice clipped and tight. "Get the witch. She'll die this day. Before we try the ritual again." In those hard amber eyes, Paenther saw the truth. The Chief of the Ferals had made the choice to comply with his demand. If he had chosen to kill his attacker instead, Paenther's throat would be gone, and he would be the one with the blade in his chest.

Paenther withdrew the knife and offered the hilt to Lyon. He'd won the concession he'd wanted. Now he would suffer the consequences. He understood all too well the law of the pack, as he'd been raised by the law of the tribe. If you challenged the chief, you killed him. Or expected to die.

If Lyon chose to take his life for the attack, he would accept his death like the warrior he was.

Vincent stepped beside him, shoulder to shoulder, his tone hard as granite. "You'll only destroy him through me."

Lyon growled, a low, threatening rumble, his hand tightening around Paenther's neck, his claws digging deeper with a fiery pain. Abruptly, Lyon released him, his gaze traveling slowly between the two newest Ferals.

"I would punish you severely, both of you, if I did not believe the witch had already done so. You've emerged from that hell with a rare loyalty toward one another. Turn that loyalty toward the nine, and you'll make fine Feral Warriors. If you do not..." His eyes glittered with warning. "...if either of you ever threatens one of us again, I'll clear the way for your replacements without a second thought."

Paenther stared at the man, taking his measure, finding both strength and fairness, making him all the more proud to be a Feral Warrior.

"Return to your places within the circle," Lyon growled.

Paenther slammed his fist against his chest as he met Lyon's gaze. "My loyalty is yours."

Lyon nodded once. "Good."

By the time Ancreta was dragged onto the rock, Paenther's hair was dripping from melted snowflakes, his hands nearly numb.

The blond beauty cowered at his feet in fear.

"Face your fate!" Paenther snarled, a borrowed knife in his hand. He looked at Vincent. "The head or the heart?"

"The head."

Paenther nodded once, then shoved the struggling witch onto her back. He wanted her to see death come for her. As fear lanced her copper-ringed irises, he saw again the innocent young beauty he'd believed her to be as he'd come to her rescue all those months ago. A bit of chivalry he had rued every moment since.

He knelt beside her, lifting his blade to strike, Vincent mirroring his action on her other side.

"Die, witch," they said as one.

As Vincent's blade hacked off her head in a shower of blood, Paenther's blade carved out her heart. Raw, savage satisfaction poured through his body, doing much to heal his soul.

It was done.

The two men rose as one, blood-splattered but grimly satisfied.

"Are you ready to try again?" Lyon asked.

Vincent nodded, a glimmer of a smile lifting his mouth, though his eyes remained hard and wary. "Ready as a stallion in rut."

Once more, the circle formed, blood bloomed on the warriors' chests, fists rose into the air. This time Paenther didn't shift, but in a flash of sparkling light, Vincent did. Where he'd stood, a huge black-and-green snake now curled on the rock, his scales shimmering as he grew in both length and width. Nine feet long. Twelve feet. Fifteen feet.

In a second flash of light, Vincent reappeared, grinning like a loon, his hair gone, his bald head gleaming, a gold armband with the head of a snake curving around his arm.

Paenther felt a rush of joy five times what he'd felt when he'd shifted himself.

"Henceforth," Kougar intoned, "you will be known as Vhyper."

Vincent/Vhyper whooped, a grin splitting his face as the two men embraced, slapping one another on the back. They pulled apart, grasping one another's shoulders.