Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(52)

Reconnect the link...?Kougar's mind reeled.No. He shook his head adamantly, unable to say the word. As much as he hated not feeling, reconnecting him would mean he'd feel everything again. Worse. A thousand times worse.

"Then you shall die. So, too, will your friends, for it's your voice they need joined with theirs to raise the power of their animals, to free them from this prison. Would you, out of stubbornness, steal four Feral lives?"

The bitch knew he wouldn't let that happen. But, goddess, he didn't want this. For a thousand years, he'd felt little emotion, and only the barest heat, cold, or pain. But the pain and the emotion lived inside him, dormant, waiting for the day they'd be free again to rise up and dig their fangs deep into his heart, making him bleed. Again.

He did not want this.

But what choice had he? Melisande might be many things, but she'd never been a liar.

If she said the psychic claimed Kougar would die in this place and his brothers along with him, they would die.

A shudder tore through his mind.

Meeting Melisande's gaze, he nodded.

The Ilina floated to him, her mistlike hands curving around the golden band that circled his upper arm. At first he felt the usual nothing. Then, slowly, warmth began to seep into his flesh. Warmth that grew hotter and hotter until the band glowed like molten gold, and his flesh burned.

The heat spread up into his shoulder, flushing through his chest and up into his head, leaving a trail of searing pain. Deep inside him, the emotions that had long been encased in ice burst free - ancient grief, bitter betrayal.

Fury.

He would kill the bitch. He'd kill her!

Brielle stepped forward, the top of her head not even reaching his chin, her small hands lifting to press against his temples. "I cannot remove the venom, Kougar, but I can pull it back and hold it until you've shifted."

Seething hatred and white-hot fury ripped across his mind, but they weren't directed at either of the Ilinas before him. No, it was another woman he had to thank for nearly destroying him.

Ariana, Queen of the Ilinas.

Ariana, his mate, his wife. The woman he'd loved beyond measure until she faked her own death, betraying everything they'd meant to one another.

She would pay. Goddess help him, he would find a way to make her pay for severing the mating bond all those centuries ago, making him believe she was dead. For a thousand years he'd suffered, his heart cold as an arctic night, his life turned to dust.

And it had all been a lie.

As Brielle worked, he began to feel the venom's lock on his brain loosen.

Jag's voice continued to chant in his head.

Jag, I'm here. Keep chanting.

He did. And this time, when Kougar tried to join him, the words came.

As Kougar joined the chant, a rumble trembled through Jag's body, a deep, rolling thunder he could feel but not hear. Even though he was already in his animal, the power jolted through him as the magic began to grow.

Hope leaped. And then he heard the sound he'd held his breath for. The triumphant shouts of the other Ferals.

It worked!Tighe shouted.Let's get the hell out of here.

Without a second's hesitation, Jag turned and leaped back through the warding, out of the darkness, and into a scene of rain and carnage. Four bodies littered the grass around a single, raging battle, in the middle of which lay his Red.

As he landed, his right foreleg collapsed beneath him, torn and half-paralyzed from the Daemon's venom. He rolled through the grass, righting himself and shifting back into his human form all in one move, his injured foreleg now an arm that wouldn't hamper his run.

The wind whipped violently, slashing his bare flesh with a torrent of cold, stinging rain. But he barely felt it, his focus on one thing only. Reaching Olivia.

Ewan had her pinned on the ground, slamming his fist into her jaw. One of them had to be enchanted or the male would never turn against her. He just hoped to hell it was Ewan. It had to be. Olivia wasn't feeding.

Behind Ewan, a Mage reached over his shoulder to touch Olivia. To enchant her, too.

And once he did, Jag would have no choice but to kill her. To stop her before she killed them all.

He leaped, shifting in midair, and snapped his powerful jaws around the Mage's hand, millimeters from Olivia's face. Bone crunched beneath his teeth, blood spilling warm into his mouth as he yanked the Mage off his feet, away from Olivia, then ripped the appendage from the bastard's arm.

Tighe and Hawke came running, a tiger and a man, both as bloody as he was. Behind them, Kougar stumbled and fell. Conscious, but Jag suspected, barely.

Tighe reached Ewan first and tackled him off Olivia, who continued to try to fight him but...Jesus. Her hand...

Jag's gut fisted.

Hawke attacked Ewan from behind, jamming his one good thumb into the man's neck, knocking him unconscious. The moment Ewan was down, Tighe took off to where Delaney lay, unmoving. Not far from...holy shit.Was that skeletal mass Niall?

Ah, goddess.

Hawke started for Olivia. Jag growled deep in his jaguar's throat and shifted. "Take the Mage, Hawke. I'll see to her."

Hawke looked up, his face bloody, his eyes calm. He nodded and drew his knives as Jag ran for Olivia, who was even now trying to sit up. Her bright hair flew around her face in a wind that had risen to near-hurricane force. A face far too pale and pinched with pain.

The hand would regrow, though not without a fair amount of agony. But she lived.