Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(31)

“I’ve found a couple of ancient Mage rituals for dispelling Daemon magic that might possibly help reverse the dark charm that’s turning all of you mortal.”

“They won’t work. There’s another one you need to be looking for.” Wulfe blinked, as startled by the words that had come from his mouth as his companions appeared to be.

“How do you know that?” Paenther asked evenly.

“I have no f**king idea.” But as he turned his thoughts inward, he knew he was right. He knew that no ancient Mage rituals would help them. No Mage had ever used this particular magic before. It was Daemon magic last used against the Nyads millennia ago. He turned back to Ariana. “The ritual you need to find is one the third Ilina queen witnessed near the end of the second Nyad War.” His heart was beginning to race because not only was he starting to lose control, now alien knowledge was somehow invading his mind.

Ariana watched him carefully. “All right. I’ll try to access that memory.”

As his friends watched him in contemplative silence, Wulfe returned to his food, devouring his first sandwich, then reaching for a second. By the time Kougar finally broke that silence, Wulfe was about to crawl out of his skin.

“I hear Xavier’s sister is back with us.”

Wulfe nodded. Just what he wanted, the discussion turning from his own increasing weirdness to Natalie’s. “Something’s up with her,” he told them. “She’s acquired an odd aura. And a little while ago, the wound I healed on her face started hurting like the Daemon had just clawed her again.”

All three of his companions frowned.

“What would cause that?” Paenther asked, sipping his whiskey.

“I wish I knew.”

Ariana reached halfway across the table, laying her palm flat on the gleaming surface. “I’ll add that to my search, Wulfe. If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” Wulfe finished his second sandwich, then said good night and left them before he started spouting more Daemon history. Goddess, he hated this.

No light shone beneath Natalie’s door when he reached it, so he knocked lightly. When she didn’t answer, he unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door wide enough for the hall light to illuminate her sleeping face above the sheet that covered her to the neck.

A rush of emotion swamped him—tenderness, protectiveness. Possessiveness. Mine. She’d been through so much, yet remained as solid and strong as hammered steel. She’d make a fine mate for a warrior.

For the right warrior.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Stripping out of his clothes, he shifted into his wolf and curled up on the rug beside Natalie’s bed, as close as he could get to her without actually joining her. He didn’t want to risk waking her.

Please, goddess, don’t let Natalie suffer more pain when I’m too far to hear her distress.

He shouldn’t have taken her wound a month ago. He hadn’t planned to. Despite days in their prison, she’d remained brave and stoic and so damned beautiful. And that wound on her cheek had made him ache every time he’d looked at it. Finally, he hadn’t been able to bear it any longer.

He remembered the moment so clearly. She’d awakened and greeted him with a smile that had turned him on his tail. They’d talked as she ate the meal Kara brought down to her, but then it had been time to try again to steal her memories of all she’d seen. He’d hesitated, knowing that once he took her memories, he’d have to send her home. And he’d just gotten the chance to talk to her again.

His gaze fell to that jagged cut on her cheek, his thumb lifting to trace it lightly.

Natalie flinched.

Wulfe jerked his thumb back. “It still hurts.”

“Not too much.”

Which was a blatant lie.

Her brows drew down. “How bad does it look?”

“Not as bad as mine.”

A genuine laugh escaped her throat, utterly delighting him. She caught herself with a groan, though wry humor continued to light her eyes and tug at her mouth. “I’m sorry, but that wasn’t quite the reassurance I was looking for.”

He grinned at her, amazed at how easy she was to be with.

To his surprise, she lifted her hand, almost touching his face, before lowering it again. As she did, her smile died, her expression sobering. “I’m sorry for all you must have suffered.”

He grunted. “It was a long time ago.” Without thinking too much about what he was doing, he made a decision. “Hold still. This may be uncomfortable for a moment, but I won’t hurt you.” When her eyes gave him the go-ahead, he said, “Close your eyes.”

She hesitated only a moment before doing as he asked. He opened his hand, covering her wound and half her face with his palm.

“What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

Beneath his palm, her heart beat, throbbing beneath the surface of her skin. Once more, her scent wrapped around him like a warm summer breeze.

“I’m something of a healer.” Sometimes. His own cheek began to burn and throb with surprising misery. How did humans stand the pain that took so long to go away? “How do you feel?”

“The pain’s gone.” Her voice held a note of wonder.

Lifting his hand, he peered at her cheekbone with keen satisfaction. The wound was gone completely now, her cheek unblemished.