Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)(66)

"Yes. What about you?" she asked worriedly.

Fine, Beauty. The panther growled and turned back to the Mage. Who sent you?

"B-Birik," the man stuttered, his voice thready with shock.

"Where are my friends?"

"Took them. The others...took them."

"Why?"

"The Feast of the Moon Spirit. Three Ferals...to open the blade."

Skye's heart seized. "He's going to sacrifice them?"

"Yes. Birik wants you, too, if we can get you. Otherwise, he'll use the viper shifter and pull his own power."

You'll not get her. Ever. The panther turned to look at her. Is there any reason I should spare his life?

"Other than the Earth getting even angrier than she already is?"

Paenther tilted his face to the wind as if just realizing the weather had changed. Other than that?

"None. He deserves whatever you do to him."

Paenther watched her through his cat eyes, his body ablaze with pain as it always was when he was in his animal, trebled by the knife wounds. Wounds he could feel healing slower than they should be. He shoved away the deep worry clouding his mind and concentrated on Skye, on the echoes of old pain and deep hatred swimming in her summer-sky eyes. A pain that cut him deeper than the knives had.

He hurt you. It wasn't a question. The truth was written all over her face.

"He enjoys bringing pain to others."

To you?

She looked away, then met his gaze, her mouth tight. "When Birik chained me to that rock where you were kept, he invited his sorcerers and sentinels to use me, too, figuring the worse it got, the quicker I'd cave. His men still had souls at the time and few took him up on the offer. This one joined me on that rock every night, usually with two blades. One of flesh, the other of steel."

Paenther snarled deep in his cat's throat, his gut twisting with rage for the child subjected to such brutality.

He stared down at his captive. You die. For her, you die. He made sure Skye heard the words as clearly as did the Mage beneath him.

The man yelled in fear as Paenther struck, ripping out his throat before tearing at his chest until he had the heart in his mouth. He looked up at Skye. If he'd seen horror in her eyes, he'd have tossed the heart aside and ended it there. But those blue eyes blazed with gratitude and vindication, so, his gaze fixed on hers, he ate it.

For you. Thunder rumbled angrily in the sky.

"I'd kiss you, but you're a little messy."

Paenther gave her a feline smile, then called to Tighe.

Is Delaney okay?

Yes. You?

We'll be right there. He looked at Skye. Help me shift back, Beauty.

Small pellets of hail began to fall. The Earth was angry, all right. She was going to get a hell of a lot angrier once he got his hands on Birik.

Skye slid her hands in his fur and helped him shift back with a burst of pain that nearly sent him to his knees. When he was standing on two feet again, he pulled her against him, shielding her from the hail, and led her back toward the road.

"Where did the blood go? You're clean."

"That's the upside of not being able to keep my clothes on when I shift. I don't retain much of anything."

"You don't even have to take showers?"

"It doesn't work that well. Besides, I've found I'm rather fond of showers."

He could almost feel her blush. Holding her against him like that, he felt that overwhelming protectiveness well up inside and spill over. Never again would anyone hurt her. Not as long as he drew breath.

The hail grew in size until he could feel it tearing at his bare back. Hell, his Escalade was going to be dented for sure. But he didn't care. Goddess, he didn't care. He'd slain one of Skye's dragons, and for that he felt on top of the world.

Skye's hand touched his arm. "Are you sure you're okay? Those stab wounds healed?"

"They healed." For the most part. Things weren't right in his body, and it was seriously starting to worry him. He remembered all too well the way Frederick's body had turned mortal just before he died.

The rage burned through his mind stronger than before, requiring a control greater than he'd ever had to exert. And the pain when he shifted was getting worse. A pain that was as much of the soul as the body. A pain that whispered of loss and isolation. And a rending inside him he wouldn't survive.

If he lost the panther spirit, he would die.

Only now, within the arms of an enchantress, had he finally begun to live.

Chapter Twenty

Skye shielded her face from the blowing snow as Paenther ushered her into the foyer of Feral House. The hail had ended, but Mother Nature had yet to forgive the Ferals for the death of three Mage. Souls or not, the Mage were a part of nature as no other creatures could ever be.

Behind them, Tighe carried his mate, who was protesting loudly.

"Tighe, I'm fine!"

But the tiger Feral ignored her as the four ducked into the house and shut the door against the blizzard.

"Let me down, Tighe. Now."

"What happened?" Lyon demanded as he strode into the foyer, Kara close behind him.

Paenther's big hand brushed at Skye's hair, dislodging a small shower of wet droplets around her shoulders as he met the gaze of his chief. "Foxx and Jag are missing, Delaney was attacked and knocked unconscious - "