Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(25)

Cheeks heating, Natalie turned and resumed the climb, dismayed and embarrassed, because it was clear Wulfe didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t right that she felt anything for this man when she’d been engaged to another just this morning. But Wulfe called to places inside her that Rick never had, places in her heart, in her mind, that were beginning to awaken and unfurl. Places so deep, so new and untouched, that their awakening scared her on a primitive level. If she wasn’t careful, Wulfe, despite his promises to never hurt her, would. Without ever meaning to.

They reached the main floor, crossed the foyer, then, at Wulfe’s lead, started up one of the curved stairs, side by side. Neither said a word.

As they walked down the third-floor hallway, the high yip of an excited puppy echoed suddenly from the other end. Natalie watched, amused, as Wulfe squatted, holding out his big hands as a small black ball of fur came hurtling toward him, tongue out, tail wagging a hundred miles an hour.

As the little black schnauzer pup reached him, Wulfe scooped the tiny creature up and held her in front of his face, chuckling as the pint-sized canine licked his chin and wiggled with happiness. His laugh was a wonderful sound.

“Are you being good, Lady?” Wulfe asked, his voice soft as fleece.

“She’s a doll, aren’t you, Lady?” A woman strolled gracefully down the hall toward them with a kitten held in one arm, a white cockatiel on her shoulder. Beneath a short cap of dark hair, she smiled at Natalie. “Lady thinks Wulfe’s her pack mate. You should see her when Wulfe’s in his animal. They’re adorable together.”

Wulfe grunted and set the puppy on the ground. “Back to your mom, you scamp.”

“I’m Skye,” the woman said, reaching out to shake Natalie’s hand with the one she had free. Her eyes were fascinating, the irises ringed in a shiny band of copper. “I’m Paenther’s mate. You must be Natalie.”

“Word travels fast.”

“I just saw Xavier.”

Natalie grinned. “Xavier’s mouth travels faster.”

Skye laughed. “We love Xavier.”

Wulfe started down the hall, the puppy fast on his heels. Natalie and Skye followed, side by side. Natalie reached over and stroked the kitten, smiling at the other woman. “You have quite a menagerie.”

“Wulfe gave me Lady as a wedding present a couple of months ago. Jag gave me Tramp, the tabby, and Hawke gifted me with Princess, my cockatiel.”

“They must have known you like animals.”

Skye’s smile was soft. “I’m drawn to animals, and they to me, in a way far beyond human understanding. I don’t really understand it myself, I just know that it is.”

“Then it seems like you’re in the right house.”

“With shape-shifters, you mean?” Her expression turned wry. “You would think so, and yet, if you knew a little more about our world, you would think not. I’m Mage.”

Natalie jerked with surprise.

Skye’s mouth twisted ruefully. “I see you know what that means.”

“Ten of them broke into my house tonight.”

Skye blanched. “But you’re okay.”

“Wulfe was there. He . . . took care of them.”

Skye nodded. “Too many of my people have had their souls stolen. We’re not all like that.”

“I can see that. And I’m glad.”

“You’re human.”

“Yes.” Natalie cocked her head. “Can you see my glow, too?”

Skye nodded. “It’s faint—I don’t usually see auras—but it’s there. The colors are beautiful.”

“Thanks . . . I think. From what I gather, it’s Daemon-related, which is probably not good.”

Skye frowned, looked at Wulfe. “Is the Shaman going to take a look at her?”

“He already did,” Wulfe told her. “All he can say is that it appears to be Daemon energy. But he doesn’t know what that means.” Wulfe strode into one of the rooms, a large room with a massive poster bed sitting in the middle. Against one wall sat a dresser with a mirror. But other than a single nightstand, that was it. The walls were white, there was no rug on the hardwood floor, and only a single sheet covered the bed. Against one wall sat a pair of plain army green duffel bags.

A woman . . . presumably one of the Therian Guards, poked her head out the bathroom door. “I’m gathering up our toiletries. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Is Natalie going to stay here?” Skye asked, surprised.

Natalie responded without rancor, “Wulfe’s been ordered to put locks on the windows and door as a precaution. It’s odd to be considered dangerous among immortals who could end my life in an instant, but I get it.”

Skye’s eyes darkened with sympathy. “I’m glad you’re not angry about it.”

The woman strode from the bathroom, her hair short, her body toned and strong beneath her tank and fighting pants.

“Sorry for running you out,” Skye said.

The woman grabbed the duffels and turned to her with a smile. “Thank you, but a bed is a luxury we don’t need.” She nodded to Natalie and Wulfe as she left.

Skye set the kitten down to scamper over to the puppy. “You’re going to need fresh linens,” she said and began stripping the bed. As Natalie stepped forward to help, another woman strode into the room, her arms laden with sheets and towels, a small canvas bag slung over one arm, a gun strapped to her waist.