Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(41)

“Mist Natalie back here at once.” Lyon quickly told her where she was.

No sooner had the Ilina disappeared, then Olivia’s voice echoed from the upstairs hallway. “They’ve been attacked!” she cried, running down the stairs.

Wulfe whirled toward the door.

“Wulfe, stand down,” Lyon barked.

“Roar.” Impatience tore at Wulfe’s nerves, every muscle in his body straining with the need to reach Natalie.

“The last thing we can afford is a Feral-Mage war in the middle of a heavily traveled suburban street in broad daylight. What in the hell were they thinking?”

“They weren’t thinking,” Wulfe snapped. “Or they don’t care. Satanan’s the one calling the shots now, and he doesn’t give a damn if the humans find out about us. He wants the humans terrified. His Daemons will feed all the more easily once they’re freed.”

“They’re not getting free.”

“No?” Wulfe wasn’t at all sure anymore.

Finally, Melisande appeared, a swaying Natalie in her arms. “They were hit by two cars, one on either side. They must have been waiting for them on the cross streets as they traveled down Georgetown Pike.”

Wulfe grabbed Natalie, pulling her tight against him. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Just . . . dizzy.”

“Ilina travel will do that.” He cupped the back of her head, pressing her face to his bare shoulder as he held her, as he drank in the feel of her body, whole and warm, against his.

Her arms slid around him, and his heart sighed with pleasure and rightness and relief. They stood like that until Tighe, Jag, and Paenther walked in the front door about ten minutes later. None of them appeared the worse for wear. Reluctantly, Wulfe released Natalie as she pulled away and went to sit on the stairs a few feet from him.

“The f**kers sandwiched us,” Jag growled.

“They trapped us good,” Tighe confirmed. “The car in front of me spun sideways, blocking me just as I came even with the intersection. The moment I stopped, the two vehicles flew at us from either side, slamming on their breaks at the last minute, pinning the doors closed.”

“So you weren’t injured,” Lyon confirmed.

“No. They barely tapped the Rover. And the moment Melisande disappeared with Natalie, they backed up and drove away.”

Wulfe glanced at Natalie. “Satanan can sense us.”

“All of us?” Tighe asked. “Or just you and Natalie.”

“I’m not sure. The latter, I think. He knew I was at her house. He knew she’d left just now. And that I hadn’t.”

“How?” Lyon demanded. “You, I understand. You have Daemon blood. But how is he sensing Natalie? Does she have some kind of tracker on her?”

“You have Daemon blood?” Natalie asked, her voice low and shocked.

“Just a little.” But apparently too damned much. He turned back to Lyon. “My instincts say it has something to do with her aura. Whatever it is, he wants us. Both of us.” Wulfe growled low. “And he’s not going to succeed.”

“Neither of you is to leave this house, again,” Lyon said. “Paenther, increase surveillance. I want to know where those Mage are, and I want someone watching them every moment. They’re too damn close if they were able to set up a trap within minutes of your getting into the vehicle.” He turned back to Tighe. “Any witnesses?”

“Hard to say, but I didn’t see anyone snapping pictures. It happened fast, Roar. A minute, tops.” Tighe glanced at Natalie. “And you still haven’t made those calls.”

“I can mist her out of the area,” Melisande said. “We’ll be in and out of there before the Mage can follow.” Without Ilina allies, the Mage still had to travel the old-fashioned way—cars and planes.

Wulfe met Lyon’s gaze, a hardness in his eyes he’d rarely turned on his chief. “Natalie goes nowhere without me.”

Lyon just stared at him, the need to argue clear in his expression. Wulfe understood all the logical reasoning against their both leaving together, but it didn’t matter. Inside, his wolf growled in agreement.

Lyon’s jaw clenched, then he turned to Melisande. “Take them somewhere that’s far enough that the Mage won’t be able to reach them in time, but close enough that Natalie might have logically driven there herself.”

“Cape May is nice this time of year,” Natalie said, rising to her feet.

“New Jersey?” Lyon nodded and turned to Wulfe. “All right. Take backup. And get her in and out of there fast.”

Something brushed across Wulfe’s mind, a voice, a whisper. “Daemon?”

Wulfe blinked, dropping his gaze before anyone saw his dismay. As his head began to pound, he realized the voice . . . this voice . . . didn’t have the same feel as Satanan’s and Inir’s. He felt no . . . malevolence. Just a demand of sorts, to answer. To reply.

Why couldn’t the f**king Daemons leave him the f**k alone?

“Wulfe?” Lyon asked sharply.

Shaking his head, he forced his attention back on the situation at hand. “Cape May, it is,” he said. “I’ll grab some clothes and be right down.” As he climbed the stairs, his stomach clenched. His Daemon blood was awakening, and goddess only knew what that meant. Nothing good. Of a certainty, nothing good.