Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)(78)

The only way to beat a Mage in battle was to remove his hands so he couldn't enthrall, and that was exactly what he did. He leaped at the nearest opponent, clamped his jaw around the Mage's wrist and ripped his hand off his arm. The bastard would grow another within the hour, but for now, that was one hand that wouldn't enchant or wield a knife against him. He only had to dispose of about fifty-nine more.

Jag! Paenther called telepathically. Find Skye and the Daemon blade and get out of here!

No way.

Beauty?

Searing pain tore through his abdomen as a blade slid between his ribs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the jaguar in the middle of a battle as fierce as his own.

Beauty?

Where was Foxx? If he'd already gotten to Skye...

That's an order, Jag!

Jag's snort sounded in his head. Tough shit, Geronimo. You're not expendable. We're leaving this place together, or not at all. How many Mage do we have in here?

Thirty something. And two turned Ferals.

Oh yeah, forgot about that. We're f**ked.

Paenther grunted. Get free if you can and find Birik. He's the only one who has to die.

Roger.

Paenther tore off another hand, and another, as a blade sliced through his right hindquarter. He stumbled beneath the pain and muscle damage. He'd heal, if he got the chance. The Mage were bearing down hard.

His gaze searched frantically for Skye. Beauty?

No answer. And there was no sign of Foxx.

In his heart, he knew the young Feral who'd fought by his side now fought for his enemy.

And he had Skye.

Skye? The beloved voice rang in her head.

Paenther.

Beauty! Where are you?

I don't know. Murmured voices sounded all around her, but she was still struggling back to consciousness and had yet to open her eyes. How long ago had Foxx grabbed her, knocking her out? Now she lay on her back on a thick rug, still naked, as she'd been when the ritual had begun.

Paenther, are you okay? Is Jag? So many Mage.

We have our hands full - or our mouths full, as the case may be - but we're holding our own. I'm fine now that I know you're all right. I'll find you, Skye. When you figure out where you are, tell me. I'll find you!

Skye opened her eyes slowly, a little at a time, taking in her situation, her surroundings. Her heart sank as a familiar gleaming, sumptuous decor filled her sight.

I'm in Birik's apartments, Paenther.

The chambers gave away nothing of their cave roots. The walls had been painted and hung with bright red and yellow silk; though thick stalactites clung to the ceiling, they'd been sealed against the moisture that pervaded most of the rest of the cavern. Gilt furniture filled the chamber, ornately carved tables laden with decorative crystal and power orbs.

On the walls hung the heads of animals, beasts whose lives Birik had sacrificed in the hunt for more power. The heads included several black bears who'd come to her in the woods over the years, a couple of wildcats, and four stags, with their huge racks of antlers. Each one had been drawn to her gift. Each had died at Birik's hands as she'd danced in their blood.

She hated him. Hated him!

"What are we doing in here?" Foxx asked. "Why aren't we out there fighting?"

"Seal the doors!"

As Birik's voice broke through the others, she froze, then slowly turned her head.

Birik sat on a large throne at the far end of the room, his three most powerful sorcerers on one side, Vhyper and Foxx on his other. In an arc around them, stood twelve sentinels, each armed with half a dozen blades. Birik's private guard.

Paenther...She quickly told him what she saw.

Birik looked at the young Feral with the disdain he held for all Therians. "You're in here instead of out there because I won't have you destroying them. Or helping them."

His cold gaze flicked over her and stilled. "You're awake."

Skye struggled to her feet and forced herself to face him.

Birik stepped down off his throne and crossed to her, clamping his hand around her neck the moment he reached her. "You freed them. How did you learn to remove the shackles?"

She couldn't speak through the hand cutting off her air.

"Mind-skinning," Foxx replied for her, his voice bored.

Birik squeezed. "You helped them."

Foxx snorted. "She's B.P.'s girlfriend. If she weren't Mage, he'd probably make her his mate."

If she weren't Mage. The words cut, yet she knew they were the truth. Even if they managed to make it out of here alive, there was no future for them. Paenther could never take her as his mate.

Birik's grip tightened until she could barely stand, could barely see through the pain. A fraction more and he'd crush her windpipe or snap her neck. "You willingly spread your thighs for that piece of animal trash?"

Fury erupted through the desperation. He wasn't trash! The Mage had always considered themselves superior to the Therians, yet it was the Therians, the Ferals, who acted with honor and courage. Who fought to save the world instead of destroy it.

She speared him with her gaze, something she had not had the courage to do in too many years. The flicker of surprise in his eyes pleased her.

Skye! Paenther's voice cut through the pain. I need a distraction. Pull the power, for me, little witch. The good power.