Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(36)

“Mmm, thank you.” She threw him a grin as she grabbed one of the cups and was rewarded with a pleased smile.

“How many will actually take part in this?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of the steaming brew.

“Ten Ferals and Kara since the purpose of the power raising is to strengthen her.”

When Natalie had filled her mug, Wulfe ushered her out the back door and onto a wide brick patio ringed by azalea and forsythia bushes growing in abandon. The morning was warm, the humidity reasonably comfortable, and the sky bright blue above the trees. In the middle of the open yard, a male with a close-cut mustache and goatee lifted his hands to the sky and murmured words too low to hear.

“Kougar is calling a feral circle,” Wulfe told her. “The entire back of the house will be warded once he does, so even if one of the neighboring humans walks through, they’ll neither see nor hear anything. Wait here.” He stepped forward, joining the other men, all of whom were incredibly well built, though not a one held a candle to Wulfe.

“Hi, Natalie.” Delaney came to join her, along with another woman, an attractive brunette with eyes almost as bright a blue as Melisande’s. “Natalie, Julianne,” Delaney said, by way of introduction.

“Hi, Julianne.” Natalie shook hands with the woman, but her gaze immediately returned to the Feral who’d caught her eye—a male currently stripping out of his clothes, right there in front of everyone. Lyon was doing the same.

“The nudity takes a little getting used to,” Delaney murmured, amusement in her voice. “Just one of the many perks of life with a bunch of shape-shifters.”

Natalie snorted, her gaze following Wulfe’s movements, admiring the perfection of his now-bare back and shoulders and watching with fascination as he pulled his jeans down and off. Her breath caught. His butt and legs were like sculpted marble, truly glorious to behold. How could a flesh-and-blood male be so beautiful, so perfectly formed?

“Admiring the view?” Delaney asked.

“Oh, yes. Every time I see it.”

Delaney made a sound of surprise. “Something already going on between you two?”

Lyon had settled Kara on a lawn chair, and now all the males, either shirtless or naked, made a wide circle around her. Each of them had a golden armband snaked around one thick biceps, Natalie realized.

“When the Mage attacked, he shifted a couple of times,” she told Delaney.

Julianne groaned. “And you’re human. That must have been a shock.”

Natalie smiled. “You could say that. I’d met the wolf before and had already fallen in love with him. Finding out he was really a man, a shifter, was definitely a shock. But at least I’d already come to trust him. He saved my life, attacking the Mage sentinels who’d been sent to capture me.”

“I’m officially a fan, Natalie,” Delaney said quietly, seriously. “If you can handle all that and not fall apart, you’re rock solid.”

Natalie looked at her thoughtfully. “I’ve been having some strange dreams since . . . the incident—the Daemons. I’m beginning to think I’ve been dreaming about that day even if I don’t remember much of it. What happened last night was shocking of course, but I didn’t have much trouble accepting it. I suppose, subconsciously, I already knew about shape-shifters and the Mage.”

Delaney nodded. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“Here they go,” Julianne said breathlessly. “I’ve never seen a Feral shift.”

All three women turned their attention back to the shifters. Natalie watched as Kougar pulled out a wicked-looking knife.

“Small cuts only,” Lyon commanded. “And to your palms, not your chests.”

Several of the shifters made sounds of disgust.

“They’re not healing,” Delaney said, her voice low and tight.

One by one, the shifters cut their palms, then thrust those fisted hands into the air. As Wulfe cut his own, his gaze found Natalie’s and held, a look in his eyes that, for once, she couldn’t read. A touch of pride, perhaps, that he belonged in that elite, mythic circle. Or perhaps a pinch of concern that she might be put off by the strangeness of it all. Maybe a little of both.

“He likes you,” Delaney murmured beside her.

“I like him, too.”

“Do you?” It wasn’t a casual question.

“He’s a good man.”

“He is. He absolutely is. But he’s been dealt a rough hand.”

Natalie met the other woman’s gaze. “Are you ready to tell me more, now?”

Delaney watched her assessingly. “When a new Radiant is marked, one of the Ferals is chosen as her mate. It happens during a ritual, all very mystical. Wulfe was the one chosen for the previous Radiant, Beatrice. From what I’ve heard, Beatrice was selfish and shallow and threw a tantrum that the goddess chose the scarred Feral for her.”

Natalie winced. “Oh, Wulfe. That’s terrible.”

“Tighe says Wulfe loved her, at least at first. The goddess gave him no choice but to love her. But he suffered for almost a century and a half with a mate who . . .” She didn’t complete the sentence, but Natalie heard the rest. “Nine months ago, Beatrice died, leaving Wulfe in even worse shape.”

“He misses her.”