Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(52)

Wulfe stood against the side wall, glaring at his brothers and sister as Vivian’s story unfolded and their gazes kept cutting his way.

“So Wulfe-man made his very own channel key,” Jag mused. “Do we even know what a channel key is? Or does?”

Wulfe looked at the jaguar shifter with surprise because he suspected they didn’t. All they knew, they’d learned from the clone. But it didn’t make one bit of difference because he wasn’t pulling the power through her. Ever.

“Strome?” Lyon asked, turning to Vivian.

The woman sat in her chair, ramrod straight, her gaze . . . the Daemon’s gaze . . . watchful and cautious as he kept an eye on every male in the room. Wulfe marveled that he could so easily tell who was in charge—Vivian or the Daemon. And he sympathized with the male, who so clearly needed to protect his female yet had absolutely no ability to do so.

“A channel key is a corruption of the ancient process of transforming a female into a Daemon.” As Vivian/Strome began to speak, the room turned silent, every Feral riveted. “We are not entirely flesh and blood, as one of you stated. Daemons are energy creatures. And born exclusively male. The only way for us to reproduce is by converting a female of another race into a Daemon. This change does not harm her, and at one time, could not be accomplished against the female’s will. It was part of the mating ceremony.

“All that changed . . . everything changed . . . when Satanan learned to tap into the primal energies. He found that human females, with their earthly physiology, could be used by almost any Daemon to reach that dark power. Satanan taught his most loyal and encouraged them to empower themselves in this way, for when they did so, they, in turn, empowered him.”

Wulfe frowned. “Then how did I turn Natalie into my channel key by accident?”

Vivian/Strome watched him thoughtfully. “You have feelings for her. Strong feelings.”

Wulfe’s mouth compressed. It wasn’t any of the Daemon’s business. And yet, maybe it was. He gave a nod.

“And you say you healed her.”

“I have a gift.” A curse. “I can take the wounds of humans if I want to badly enough.”

“A rare gift. I cannot be certain, shifter, but I believe that in activating your gift with your heart open, you initiated her transformation. However, because it was done through the site of the Abomination’s wounding, it was the corrupted process that took place instead, making her a channel to the primal energies.”

“Is she in danger?” Wulfe demanded.

Strome nodded, his expression turning sympathetic. “I am afraid so, yes. Making her your channel key probably would not hurt her if you never used her as such. But Satanan is using her. The more energy he pulls through her, the quicker she will die. I’m sorry.”

Wulfe let out a roar of fury and anguish and turned, ready to plow his fist through the wall.

“Wulfe,” Lyon warned. “You’re not immortal.”

Fuck! He pulled his punch at the last minute, going feral instead. Goddess he needed to kick someone’s ass and get his own kicked in return. He needed the outlet!

Turning back, he captured the Daemon with his anguished gaze. “How long until it kills her?”

“At the rate Satanan is pulling the power through her now, months. If you open that channel fully and start drawing them yourself, she’ll survive a day, at most. Perhaps only hours.”

Natalie was not going to die. Even as the furious need to protect her drove him to pace the room with hard, angry strides, the truth of the situation unfolded in front of him. The way things stood now, she had months. And he might only have days.

With effort, he pulled himself back under control. Nothing had changed. Inir had to die, and that evil wisp of Satanan along with him. That was still the only acceptable outcome even if it appeared to be slipping through their fingers more and more each day.

“Does anyone have any more questions?” Lyon asked.

“I do,” Kougar said. “If the time comes that Wulfe must pull those energies, we need to know how.”

“You just heard what he said! I’m not doing it,” Wulfe growled. “I’ll kill her.”

“He must give her back the wound he took . . .”

“How?” Kougar pressed.

Vivian/Strome turned to Wulfe. “What did you do to heal her in the first place?”

Wulfe remained mute until Kougar pinned him with a hard gaze. With a sigh, he said, “I covered her cheek with my hand and called the wound to me. Just that.”

Vivian/Strome nodded. “Do the reverse. Once that’s done, stand her in the middle of a pentagram and say the words to call the power.”

“What words?”

“The words that are written on every Daemon’s soul. Daemon magic cannot be shared, it must be called on from within, and the words are part of that. They are as individual as a fingerprint and will come to you if you want them badly enough.” Vivian’s brows drew together, Strome’s intensity still in her eyes. “I warn you, shifter, if you pull the darkness, it will try to claim you. There is a possibility, because of the tender feelings you hold for your channel key, that she might be able to tether you, to keep you from falling into that darkness, but it will not be easy. It has, to my knowledge, never been done.”

All were silent for several moments before Lyon asked again, “Any more questions?”