Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(24)

“Ready?” he asked, and headed back for the door.

As Natalie followed him out, she heard people on the stairs and watched three enter the hallway a moment later, two males and a female. The males were dressed just like Wulfe, naked except for a pair of workout shorts. The woman wore only a sports bra with her shorts. All three eyed her with friendly curiosity.

“Need help?” one of the men asked Wulfe. He was a nice-looking male with a long face and steepled brows. His hand curved across the shoulders of the woman, and she leaned into him as if the pair were two parts of a whole. The woman was cute, with dark, blue-tipped hair and a winning smile.

“Boyo,” the third in the group said, striding forward and greeting Wulfe in the same manner Lyon and Jag had. This male was startlingly handsome in a cover-model kind of way, his hair falling to his shoulders in golden waves, his features utterly perfect in his strong-boned face.

“Fox,” Wulfe said to the golden warrior, a smile lifting his mouth. He turned to the first male and greeted him in the same manner. “I’m good, Hawke. We’re going to put some locks on the door and windows of the bedchamber beside mine. Lyon’s orders, if Natalie’s to avoid the prisons this time.”

Hawke turned to her, his expression surprised, but kind. “Hello, Natalie.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. Glancing at Wulfe, he lifted one of those steepled brows. “She’s here.”

“Ten Mage sentinels broke into her house tonight.”

Fox whistled. “Ten against one and yet here you are, boyo. Wish I’d been there to see that.” His voice held an unmistakable Irish brogue.

“I wish you’d been there to help,” Wulfe replied. “Inir wanted her.”

A dark look passed between the men and the woman.

“Hi, Wulfe.” The woman thrust out her hand to Wulfe and he greeted her as he had the men, though without the same ease. She turned to Natalie, smiled, and extended her hand. “I’m Faith.” She gave her head a little shake. “Falkyn. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally? So we haven’t met before.”

“No, but your brother talks about you constantly. He’s very proud of you.”

Natalie smiled. “As I am of him.”

“He’s a good chap,” Fox said, smiling. “Welcome, Natalie.” And he shook her hand, too.

Lyon might not trust her, entirely, but the other shape-shifters were openly warm and friendly.

“Doing a little training?” Wulfe asked.

Hawke nodded, sending Falkyn a look of such deep adoration it made Natalie’s heart ache a little. Had Rick ever looked at her like that? If she were perfectly honest, no. Nor had she ever felt that deeply about him. They’d gotten along famously, enjoying many of the same pastimes. But he’d never been necessary to her, she knew that now.

“Falkyn’s skills are improving by leaps and bounds, but I want her to be the best fighter among us.”

Falkyn rolled her eyes with a grin and met Natalie’s curious gaze. “I’m the first female Feral Warrior in centuries, and I shift into a falcon. Not exactly Godzilla. He’s determined to make me invincible anyway.”

Hawke smiled. “I am.”

Falkyn gave Natalie a little wave and headed past them, deeper into the underground, the two males following.

“How many of you did I meet on my first visit here?” Natalie asked as she started up the stairs, Wulfe close behind. “I got the feeling Hawke, Fox, and Falkyn were all meeting me for the first time.”

“They were. None of them were here last time. The only ones you met were Lyon and his mate, Kara, and Paenther, Jag, and me.”

“Because you kept us in the prisons.”

“Yes. You were unconscious most of that time. We figured the less you saw and learned, the easier it would be to take your memories later.”

She stiffened at the implications of that. “How difficult will it be to take my memories this time?” He clearly wasn’t minimizing what she was seeing . . . or learning.

“Natalie,” he said quietly behind her.

She stopped and turned to him, only a single step between them.

He met her gaze, his eyes at once soft and fierce. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

They’d both heard Lyon. Wulfe knew as well as she did that her life hung in the balance.

“I’m not,” he repeated quietly, his gaze like steel, ordering her to believe him.

Warmth fluttered in her chest on wings of a rising affection for this honorable, enigmatic man. An unruly lock of hair hung across his forehead and her hand itched to reach for it, to brush it back, to touch him again as his words and actions touched her over and over. But he hadn’t welcomed her kiss to his cheek, and she feared he wouldn’t welcome her touch.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, revealing her growing affection with a smile instead.

An answering warmth flared in his eyes, his own endearing smile making a small, quick appearance, filling her with a sharp and unexpected joy. With the soft lamplight half illuminating, half shadowing his face, his scars faded to nothing, and the raw male beauty of the man all but took her breath away. His was a strong face, strong-boned, in perfect counterpoint to the body upon which it was attached. His warm, masculine scent wafted over her, pleasing her, drawing her, turning her body soft and warm with wanting. The heat that licked inside her startled her, setting her pulse to flight. And he saw it. She could see the awareness in his eyes. And the disappointment.