Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(30)

As soon as he got back to the Hummer and his phone, he'd have to find some cell service and let the others know what they'd learned.

Ready?he asked her. When she nodded, he took off through the woods at a human-friendly pace. She quickly caught up to him, then walked at a quick clip at his side.

He swung his cat's gaze toward her.Have you recovered from that Daemon attack?

"Mostly."

Describe it to me. What did he do to you?

"I think he partially paralyzed me. I could move my arm, but it felt heavy. Numb. I still feel slow, like I weigh three times what I did, but I can move."

No other side effects?

"Not that I'm aware of. I'm feeling better and better, so I think it's working its way out of my system. I can still fight, Jag. If we see him again, I can absolutely fight."

Strong.The word went through his head over and over when he thought of her. And he hadn't once stopped thinking about her, not since he first saw her.

Shit, she'd killed her own father yet didn't seem to be bothered about it at all.

Granted, it had happened half a millennium ago, but still. You didn't get over crap like that. It became part of who you were, digging claws into you day and night for the rest of your f**king life.

Maybe the guy had been a bastard. Maybe he'd tried to hurt her. Or execute her as was once the fate of all draden-kissed.

It was none of his business, but the questions preyed on his mind until he finally asked.

Did you mean to kill your father?

"Of course not. I loved him more than anything. He was all I had."

How do you live with guilt like that? Did you finally just get over it?

She remained silent for so long, he began to think she wouldn't answer.

"You never get over it. Not a day goes by that I don't miss him, that I don't regret the lapse in control that killed him. But I eventually learned to forgive myself, to look forward instead of back."

He thought of her words on the drive out here, how she'd accused him of hating himself as she once had hated herself. He got it, now, what she must have gone through.

But it still had nothing to do with him.

They'd gone only a short distance when that god-awful scent of Daemon slammed into his nostrils again, yanking him back to the present.Got his scent.

"I feel something, too. A tingling of energy. It's just a shadow of what I felt when the Daemon showed up, but maybe he left a trail for me to follow."

Good. Let's get this sucker, Red.

The twin trails followed one another exactly, telling him they were on the right track, even as the paths waxed and waned. The night was quiet, the moon playing hide-and-seek with the clouds above, but his vision remained perfect either way. There were no humans around that he had to be careful of, and if the draden attacked again, it wouldn't matter.

The knowledge brought with it a strange relief. They'd each fight the suckers with their own unique gifts. Olivia could safely draw them to her while he stayed in his animal, ready to pounce. They'd make a damn good fighting team. For now.

What in the hell was he going to do with her? Lyon would be royally pissed if Jag brought her back to Feral House without warning him what she was. Hell, the Chief would be pissed if he brought her anywhere near his Ferals at all.

Olivia claimed she had complete control, but anyone draden-kissed was extremely dangerous if she ever wanted to be. Except she couldn't feed, couldn't harm anyone, without him knowing. Which meant that as long as he stayed close enough to stop her, she couldn't harm anyone at all.

And they needed her. At least for now. She was a good little fighter, a well-trained warrior with some special skills that just might come in handy against their enemies.

Eventually, he'd have no choice but to out her. As much as he enjoyed riling Lyon, keeping this kind of secret was an offense Lyon would never forgive.

In the meantime, though, Olivia was his.

Olivia hurried along beside the jaguar, jogging to keep up, which was fine with her.

The night wouldn't last, and she had a score to settle with that Daemon.

If only the venom would finish working its way out of her system. The lethargy continued to tug at her limbs, though not as badly as before. Ironically, despite the heaviness in her limbs, she felt stronger, more powerful than ever thanks to the Daemon life force she'd ingested,

How often do you need to feed?Jag asked after they'd covered a good three miles.

"The energy of half a dozen draden will fill me for hours. Around Therians or humans, it depends on how many there are and how emotional the situation. I have to be particularly careful with humans. If there aren't a lot of them around, I can take very little."

How often do you kill them?

"I haven't killed anyone by accident since my father. At least not that I know of."

You've killed on purpose?

"Of course. What warrior hasn't?"

True. You use your...gift...in addition to your weapons?

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"If I can drain an opponent without collateral damage to others, I'll weaken him. But I can only direct my feeding to one person if I grab him and hold on."

Too bad. A concentrated shot like that could be a powerful weapon. You ever killed someone just because they needed killing? It would be easy to do, wouldn't it?

She didn't answer right away. The question dug up old memories she'd rather leave buried. But the freedom to talk honestly for the first time in centuries proved too powerful, and she found herself telling him.