Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)(44)

If only we could stay like this. Forever.

Finally, Paenther pulled out of her and stood up, scooping her into his arms, startling a smile out of her.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting a shower. Then I'm finding you something to eat. You need flesh on these bones, woman."

He carried her to the bathroom at the back of his room and turned on the water but didn't step in.

She lifted her head from his shoulder. "What are you waiting for?"

"The water to warm up."

"A warm shower," she murmured with pleasure. "The water in my room in the cavern never ran anything but cold."

He kissed her temple. "No more cold, Skye. I'll keep you warm." Finally, he stepped into the shower with her, gently lowering her to her feet beneath the warm spray. But as he turned to get the soap, she slid her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his back, overwhelmed by the force of her emotions.

Tears began to run freely, mingling with the water from the shower. No one had ever cared for her like this before.

She'd fallen in love with him. But he could never be hers. They had no future because they belonged to two different worlds.

No, that wasn't completely true. He belonged to the world of the Ferals.

And she belonged nowhere.

Chapter Thirteen

Paenther ushered Skye down the stairs, his stomach rumbling for food, his body nearly sated, his mind and heart in turmoil. The woman at his side was a Mage witch. Yet he couldn't deny that he was starting to have feelings for her. He was beginning to honestly care about her.

And how screwed up is that? She's my prisoner, for goddess sake.

Yet he'd discovered a surprising strength in her despite all she'd been through. A softness. A sweetness. And an achingly deep loneliness. She hungered for touch and affection and wasn't afraid to return them. Her arms had gone around him in the shower, and she'd clung to him with a need he was certain had little to do with the body and everything to do with the soul. He'd turned around and pulled her into his arms and held her, just held her beneath the warm spray for a long, long time. Until she'd pulled away and begun kissing his neck and his shoulders and his chest, making him hard and ready for her all over again.

He'd taken her in the shower, holding her as she wrapped her legs around his hips. As he'd pushed himself inside her for a second time, she'd thrown her head back with a sound of pleasure that had moved him more than he wanted to admit.

He'd pressed her back against the warmed tile and thrust into her, over and over, until he'd felt her inner muscles contract around him in a hard, pulsing release. As she'd gasped, he'd followed her for a second time, then stood there, buried inside her, wondering how he'd fallen so completely under her spell.

He was still wondering about that. What in the hell am I going to do with her?

They reached the foyer, and he glanced down, unable to keep from looking at her. Yet every time he did, he felt an ache in his chest. Her scent, a blend of his own shampoo and her natural violets, wove through his body, heightening his senses, sharpening the ever-present edge of desire that never seemed to go away.

He never looked at her that he didn't feel something strong and visceral, but ever since he found her bleeding from Birik's curse and had peeled away his rampant distrust, those feelings had been growing increasingly warm. Increasingly deep.

She was lovely, there was no doubt about it, even in his sweatpants, pants he'd had to cinch at her waist with a belt to keep them from falling off her too-slender frame. She wore one of his shirts, a soft navy flannel he'd been known to wear draden hunting in the winter. She'd rolled the sleeves three times and they now bunched midforearm, revealing delicate wrists. She was missing shoes, but he'd have to beg a pair off Kara or Delaney. There was no way she could ever keep a pair of his on her feet.

Even dressed like a street urchin, she carried herself with the natural loveliness of a dancer.

As if feeling his gaze on her, she lifted her hand and tucked a short, stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, then turned to meet his gaze. A soft smile lit her eyes, doing funny things to his insides. Yet he couldn't look at her without seeing the copper in her eyes. And the sight of it dug at him, cutting him with dark memories, whispering of treachery and subterfuge. Foxx had fallen hard for Zaphene. He'd been ready to make her his mate. Yet it had all been a lie. His feelings had been manipulated by Zaphene's magic.

Even though he was convinced Skye wasn't anything like Zaphene, every time he saw those copper rings, doubt whispered in his mind.

He forced the dark thoughts aside, determined to protect Skye from them just as he was determined to protect her from everything else that might hurt her. He lifted his hand and stroked the back of her damp hair, and she leaned into his touch, calming the doubts.

His hand returned to the small of her back, and he ushered her toward the dining room and the scent of roasting meat.

"Are you as hungry as I am?"

"I'm not sure," she said cryptically.

The sun shone brightly into the dining room through the wide, spacious windows, the crystal chandeliers sending ribbons of color dancing over the papered walls. Beatrice's tastes had run toward the palatial. Nowhere was it more obvious than the dining room. The decorating of the house had always been the domain of the Radiant, but though he sensed Kara didn't particularly share her predecessor's tastes, she was too practical and too wise to insist time and effort be expended on the frivolous when their situation was becoming more dire by the day.