Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(30)

His face fell. “I just wish I didn’t have to give up everyone at home to live here. I miss you and Mom. I love that you’re here now, but I don’t want you to get stuck here, not when you have such a great life outside. Rick has to be worried about you.”

Natalie sighed, hating to have to break the news. “Rick and I broke up this morning, Xave.”

Xavier frowned. “What happened?”

“I thought I was in love with him, but I wasn’t. He wasn’t the man I wanted to spend my life with.”

“I’m sorry, Nat,” Xavier said.

“Don’t be. I’m just glad I figured it out before we got married.” Even if nothing ever came of her attraction to Wulfe, the very fact that she’d discovered it—that she’d awakened to the possibilities within her—made it imperative that she find someone with whom she could feel that kind of excitement. Someone who, like Wulfe, would stir both her body and her emotions. And as much as she’d enjoyed Rick’s company, she knew now that he’d done neither.

Natalie and Xavier talked for a while longer until a huge yawn caught her midsentence.

Xavier smiled. “You’ve had a crazy night, Nat. Get some sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow, and I’ll introduce you to Pink.”

Together, they climbed off the bed, and Natalie gave her brother another big hug, emotion welling all over again as she marveled at the miracle of his survival. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

Xavier hugged her in return. “Better than okay. You’re going to be fine, too.” But as he pulled back, a frown pulled at the flesh between his eyebrows, and she knew he wasn’t certain of that last statement. She was in a precarious position, a pawn in an immortal war. A dangerous place to be.

And they both knew it.

As he paced the hallway outside Natalie’s room, Wulfe heard the soft rap of knuckles, the signal that Xavier was ready to return to the kitchen apartments. He unlocked the door and Natalie pulled it open, meeting his gaze with a soft, tired smile.

“Thanks for letting us visit, Wulfe.”

He nodded, struck speechless as he was every time he saw her, every time he fell into the calm gray of her lovely, lovely eyes.

Xavier kissed his sister’s cheek. “Sleep tight, Sis.” Then he smiled in Wulfe’s direction, a worry in his eyes that dug at Wulfe’s gut. Because it was a worry he shared in spades.

He was still shaken by what had happened, by the way he’d lost control . . . lost time . . . when he’d gone feral. And by the fact that Natalie was feeling pain from a wound he’d taken from her completely. None of it made an ounce of sense.

As he accompanied Xavier downstairs, his skin crawled with the sick suspicion that it was somehow all his fault.

Entering the dining room, he found Kougar and Paenther sitting at the table, sharing a bottle of whiskey with Kougar’s mate, Ariana, the Queen of the Ilinas. The two males rose when they saw him. As Xavier headed back to his room behind the kitchen, Wulfe greeted his friends warmly and was greeted in return. He nodded at Ariana, who flashed him a smile and pushed a plate of ham sandwiches toward him.

“Help yourself,” she said. “Pink brought them out a little while ago, and we’ve already had our fill.”

Wulfe sat beside Paenther. “How’s Kara? Any change?”

Paenther shook his head and poured him a finger of whiskey. “She’s no worse, thank the goddess, but she’s no better, either. The Shaman’s convinced she won’t recover until she brings a good Feral into his animal.”

A month ago, Inir managed to free seventeen animal spirits that had been trapped for centuries, unable to mark new Feral Warriors. Seventeen animal spirits he’d infected with a dark magic meant to force them to mark the worst, most evil of the line, not the best. An infection passed to the ones marked, trapping them beneath Inir’s spell.

Some of the animal spirits had succeeded in thwarting the dark magic to mark good men. And Falkyn. Others hadn’t. Wulfe and his Feral brothers had been ecstatic as their ranks began to swell after centuries of being only nine—until the first batch of new shifters rose up against them and tried to kill them. Almost too late, they’d realized Inir’s plan—to destroy the good Ferals and order the evil to free the Daemons in their place.

With the help of Ariana and the Shaman, they’d managed to cure a few of the new Ferals from the poison passed to them through their infected animals, but they had no way of knowing for certain which of the males were the ones meant to be marked—good men—and which were, deep down, evil. The only one they were one hundred percent certain of was Falkyn, the lone female among them, and Hawke’s new mate.

They’d thought Grizz and Lepard to be honorable until the pair escaped. Six of the new Ferals belonged to Inir still, firmly under his spell. The rest were locked up in the Ferals’ prison or hadn’t shown up yet. No additional new Ferals would be brought into their animals until, and unless, the Ferals found a way to tell, conclusively, which were good men and which were evil, because bringing the evil ones into their animals was slowly killing Kara. One more, and they’d lose her for good.

Wulfe grabbed a sandwich and turned to Ariana. “Have you found anything?”

In a T-shirt and jeans, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, Ariana looked far too human to be Ilina, a race whose Crystal Realm castle sat, literally, in the clouds.