Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(49)

“I will help you because she is inclined to trust you.” His gaze turned to Wulfe. “And because it would please Ciroc for me to aid his progeny. But, if you harm this woman in any way . . .” He shook his head, his expression dark with frustration. “Don’t. I have never in my existence begged, but I will beg of you now. Do not harm her.”

“We don’t harm innocents, not if we have any choice,” Lyon said. “What will happen if Wulfe were to pull the primal power for himself?”

“Roar.” How could Lyon even ask such a thing? “I would never. I’d have to cut a pentagram . . .” He swallowed back the bile that tried to rise. “In her chest.”

Vivian shook her head, her expression—Strome’s expression—horrified. “Why would you ever cut a pentagram into the chest of a human? You’d kill her.”

Wulfe stared at him. “That’s what Tighe’s clone did to Delaney when he made her his channel key.”

“His clone?”

“Long story,” Wulfe muttered. “Suffice it to say, he was evil, through and through.”

Strome watched him thoughtfully. Slowly, his eyes turned hard. “In the early days, before I understood what he was about, I watched Satanan pull the primal energies. I know how it’s done. For you to accomplish it, I believe you would need only to fully open the channel you triggered when you healed the human female. You would have to give her back the wound you took. Through that cut, the primal energies will flow. But I warn you, pulling that darkness corrupts even the most honorable of souls. Should you choose that path, you will quickly become too powerful for your friends to stop. You’ll kill them.”

“No.”

“I’ve seen only one other ride that wave of energy and not let it consume him. And even he eventually lost the battle because in the end he could not bring himself to give up the power he’d acquired.”

“So once the primal energy is pulled, it can be released?” Kougar asked.

“Yes. The ritual in reverse. The problem is, no one who knows that kind of power has the strength to give it up. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” He turned back to Wulfe. “I should warn you that even if you don’t pull the primal energies intentionally, the moment Satanan is free, he will seize control of you as he has the rest of the Daemons. And when he does, you will pull the power. And you’ll do it for him, without the ability to claim it for yourself. You, too, will become a pawn of his evil as so many have before you.”

“How do we stop him?” Wulfe demanded, holding Natalie tight against him. “How do I keep that from happening?”

“There is only one way. The connection must be broken. You, your channel key, or Satanan’s host . . .”

“Inir.”

“One of you must die.”

Natalie jerked within Wulfe’s hold.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered fiercely. But, goddess. To break this unholy connection he’d inadvertently created without endangering either of them further, he had to kill Inir. Not that he didn’t want to. Hell yes, he wanted to, but they’d been trying to find and kill that sucker for months, now, with no success.

“The Shaman’s here,” Tighe said.

As the youthful-looking ancient entered the prison block, accompanied by Fox, Wulfe straightened. Slowly, he relinquished his hold on Natalie, his head pounding with regret over what he’d done to her. And with shame. How could he have f**ked up so badly again? Nothing good ever came of his gift. Ever.

As he stepped away from her, she looked at him with eyes filled with confusion and worry.

If only he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t healed her.

The Shaman walked over to the cell where Vivian stood and peered at her with interest. “I understand you’re host to a Daemon consciousness, one who claims to be an enemy of Satanan’s.”

“Yep. His name is Strome, and he’s one of the good guys,” Vivian said. “You look young to be a shaman.”

The Shaman smiled. “Looks can be deceiving when you’re dealing with immortals. Many things can be deceiving. I’ve never heard it said that Satanan had enemies among his own. If true, this is enlightening.”

“It’s true.” Vivian scowled, and it was clear that Strome was back in control. “Satanan had nothing but enemies. He became too strong before we ever knew the power he possessed. By the time we realized the threat, it was too late. We were already being pulled under his complete control. At the point in time I became lost—and I don’t know how long that was before—”

“Four hundred years,” Wulfe said, unable to stop himself when the knowledge was on the tip of his tongue. “Satanan gained full control over the entire Daemon race four hundred years before they all became trapped in the Daemon Blade.”

Vivian/Strome looked at him with interest. “How do you come by this knowledge, shifter?”

“I don’t know. It just started happening today. I suddenly know things.”

“You’ve tapped into Satanan’s consciousness. Or his memories and knowledge. How?”

Wulfe shook his head.

Beside him, Natalie placed a slender, yet strong hand on his forearm. “When you touch me when I’m in pain, Satanan gains some control over you. Is it possible that that connection is going both ways? That you’re tapping into him, too?”