Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(55)

And, goddess, wasn't that exactly what she was? She'd never turn on them intentionally, but she was, absolutely, dangerous.

Jag steered her after the others, and they followed them up the stairs and into the grand foyer of Feral House.

Lyon and Kara waited for them, Lyon in a gold silk shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and Kara in trim black slacks and a neat peach-colored sweater, her blond hair in a ponytail, her feet bare. Both watched them enter with eyes filled with concern.

"Wulfe and Vhyper are preparing the circle out back," Lyon said. "We're going to start with radiance and take it from there if we need to. I want my warriors healed and whole before we plan our next attack."

Two abreast, they walked through the wide hallways, into the huge dining room, and out the back door. The trees were beginning to sprout leaves, but the spring canopy was still thin, allowing rain to filter through with relative ease. Fortunately, they'd left the hurricane behind miles back, and the bulk of the natural weather front had moved through.

Lyon led them to a clearing in the back of the mansion. Even before they drew close, Olivia could feel the mystic energies. A feral circle, she'd heard it called, though as a mere Therian she'd never experienced one.

Kara stepped into the middle of the circle, and the Ferals gathered around her. Kara might be taller than Olivia, but the men still dwarfed her. Yet, to a man, they treated her with a respect and affection Olivia suspected they reserved for very few. Even Jag left his usual attitude behind when he stepped into that circle.

Lyon stood before his mate, holding out his hands. As Kara slipped hers into the cradle of his much larger ones, the others moved in close. Tighe stood directly behind her, his palm against her neck. Hawke took his place on one side, his hand on her arm, Jag on the other in the same way. Wulfe, Vhyper, and Kougar knelt at her feet, their hands on an ankle or calf.

"Ready?" Kara asked.

Lyon nodded once, his gaze gentle on his mate. "Do it, little Radiant."

In an instant, Kara lit up as if she'd swallowed the sun, her skin glowing. Radiant. And Olivia was slammed with a force of pure, perfect energy. Like an alcoholic with an open bottle thrust before her nose, she craved with a violence that scared her.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Delaney murmured beside her. "I never get tired of watching her do this."

Olivia nodded, desperately fighting the pull of the energy, terrified that if she gave in and fed, she wouldn't stop. She wouldn't be able to stop. For minute after minute, the energy battered her senses, the hunger clawing to be fed.

Kara's light finally went out and that terrible hunger abated.

Goddess.

Olivia's knees nearly collapsed beneath her.

The men rose and stepped back, lifting arms and shrugging shoulders, loosening and assessing muscles like warriors preparing for battle.

Lyon crossed his arms over his chest and watched them closely, waiting. "Do we need another round?"

"I'm good," Tighe said.

Hawke nodded. "As am I."

"Kougar?" Lyon watched the cold-eyed Feral most closely.

"The fog is cleared, Roar. The radiance has completely counteracted the venom."

"Good."

Tighe walked toward the two women, his gaze all for his wife. His big hands cupped Delaney's face, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion Olivia could hardly fathom.

"Are you okay?" Tighe asked his mate softly.

"I'm fine," Delaney replied, her voice rich with love as her hands rose to cover Tighe's.

Envy twisted around Olivia's heart, squeezing that already-bruised-and-battered organ. Niall had loved her in his way. Or he thought he had. Yet he'd never truly known her.

The hard cocoon in her gut twisted, tightening every muscle in her neck and shoulders, filling her head with a tension that had her feeling like she'd explode at any moment.

Anger ate at her. Envy. Fury. She hated her life, hated what she was, hated that the only man who had ever understood her wasn't happy unless he was making her miserable. Hated that her heart wanted too much more from him. So much that he wasn't able, or willing, to give.

When Tighe dipped his head to kiss his mate tenderly, Olivia whirled and stalked off toward the house, the anger eating at the insides of her flesh until she clamored for a battle. Any kind of battle.

And suddenly Jag was at her side.

"Where are you going?"

She didn't answer. She didn't have a damned answer. This wasn't her house.

Jag's hand gripped her upper arm, pulling her to a stop.

Her anger erupted and she whirled on him, whipping out a knife. "Remove your hand or you're going to be the one regrowing a limb."

She saw her own fury mirrored in his eyes, his brows drawing down and hard. But he didn't remove his hand. "Do your worst, Sugar, but not here." He took off for the back door, dragging her along behind him.

Chapter Seventeen

Jag hauled Olivia through the house and up the first flight of stairs, pushing her through the door of his room. She was spitting mad, itching for a fight, and he was in a mood to give it to her.

She stared around the room, clearly unimpressed, and it ticked him off.

"What did you expect, the Taj Mahal?" he sneered. Though goddess knew the room was as barren as his soul.

He looked around, seeing it through her eyes. A large bed sat in the middle of the room, little more than a mattress and springs below a solid, unadorned white wall. No curtains hung at the windows, no mementoes sat on the dresser. No paintings on the wall. How many times had their previous Radiant, Beatrice, tried to put up paintings of jaguars and jungles? Exactly as many times as he'd torn them down.