Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)(47)

"Oh my God, did you ever see the episode where Tabitha..."

As the smell of cinnamon rolls began to fill the dining room, Paenther met Tighe's gaze as the two women talked about a television show he'd never seen, nor had ever cared to. Tighe was looking decidedly unhappy with the enthusiasm with which his mate was embracing the conversation with the witch. His friend's wary gaze turned back to Skye and stayed, like a man prepared to defend his mate against a wild and dangerous beast.

As much as he hated that Skye had to endure the constant distrust, he couldn't blame Tighe. Few Therians ever found a mate worth binding themselves to for an eternity. None of the other current Ferals ever had except those chosen as the mates of the Radiants. Lyon for Kara and Wulfe for the now-deceased Beatrice. While Lyon seemed happy with the choice, Wulfe never had even though those pairings were supposed to be as perfect as any pairings ever made.

Now there was Tighe.

Paenther shook his head, watching the play of possessiveness, unable to fathom caring so deeply about one woman that he would be willing to forsake all others for eternity. But as his gaze turned back to Skye, to the fragile pleasure lighting her face as she talked about the old television show, he could...almost...understand. Every now and then, a woman had a way of changing everything.

Her eyes positively danced as she leaned forward, deeply engrossed in her discussion with Delaney, a self-deprecating smile lifting her lips.

"I used to complain bitterly to my mother about the unfairness of being a real witch and not being able to do any of those cool things."

Delaney watched her intently, her smile bemused. "You can't do any of those things? Then what can you do?" Her gaze rounded on Tighe. "There has to be a reason everyone's so afraid of you."

The delight slowly drained from Skye's expression. "The Mage I grew up with could do little more than simple spells and charms, lighting lightwicks..." Her hand lifted and twirled in the air. "Floating candles, basically. And increasing the yield of the garden or healing minor sickness. Some had other gifts, the gift of foresight or the ability to read another's mind. None of those was any real danger to the Therians except for the ability to enchant and capture the mind of another with the touch of a hand. A dangerous trick since the victim can be stolen away without effort and made to do anything the captor wishes. But not all Mage possess that ability. I never have."

Paenther stilled. "You captured me."

She met his gaze with a lift of her brow, a decidedly impudent twist to her mouth. "I did." Even as she held his gaze, color began to stain her cheeks. "But it took considerably more than a touch."

The memory of just how she'd captured him, of how he'd slid inside her, had his blood heating all over again.

"I hadn't heard this part," Tighe said, his voice a low rumble. "By the look passing between you, I take it she...uh...opened your mind for you?"

"She did."

"Without enchanting you first?"

"She hid her Mage eyes, if that's what you're asking."

"It's not like you to get distracted by a female."

Paenther knew that all too well. And yet...As Skye looked up at him, as their gazes met, he felt her reach deep inside him and stroke that tight knot in his chest. "I hadn't met this female," he said softly.

The soft smile that curved her lips had him longing to reach for her, to stroke her face and bury his nose into the curve of her neck, immersing himself in her scent.

Tighe growled low. "Did you ever consider that she's enchanted you?"

"Of course she's enchanted him," Jag snarled from the other end of the table. "She's been f**king with my animal since she got here. All f**king night!"

Paenther turned, slowly, meeting the hard anger in the other Feral's eyes. It had been a mistake to bring her into the dining room. But he'd be damned if he was going to steal her away before she'd had a chance to eat. She deserved better than that.

"What in the hell is she doing here?" Lyon stood in the doorway, Kara at his side.

Paenther groaned, then rose to greet his chief. But Lyon didn't move forward. Instead, he pushed Kara behind him as if protecting her.

Paenther's jaw clenched. "She needs to eat."

"She's not even tied."

"I thought the Shaman bound her magic," Delaney said evenly.

"We have no way of knowing if it was effective."

Jag snarled. "I can tell you right now, Chief, it wasn't. She's f**king with my animal!" Jag began to light as if he were...shifting.

Chaos erupted as the sleek jaguar materialized in Jag's chair. The chair crashed backward as the animal twisted and leaped to the floor.

"What the hell?" Lyon demanded.

It's her! Jag's angry voice rang in Paenther's head as he was sure it did in all the Ferals'. A shifted Feral was able to speak telepathically with whomever he chose as long as that person was relatively close by. I didn't intend to shift. I felt her pulling on me, and suddenly it was happening.

The cat came around the table slowly, his walk stealthy. Deadly. I'm going to rip that bitch's throat out.

Paenther shoved back his chair and stood, Skye at his back. "Like hell you are. It's not her fault, Jag."

No? She works her magic, and it's not her fault? Who's to blame, then? Lyon? Kara? Maybe Santa Claus?