Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(53)

“A thousand,” Hawke murmured. “I’d love to hear about Daemon society before Satanan.”

Vivian/Strome nodded. “I’m happy to share what I can. Vivian already knows the story, but I see now that it’s important for the immortal races to know the truth of what the Daemons were before the Destroyer, Satanan, came into his power.”

Hawke fired questions and Strome endeavored to answer them, but Wulfe heard none of it through the pounding in his head, the rhythmic, furious need to get in his truck, drive straight to Inir’s stronghold, and rip his enemy’s heart out.

Finally, Strome stepped aside, giving Vivian back the helm. She rose, shaking hands with each of the Ferals with a smile. “You have no idea how exciting this has been.”

“You’re aware you can never reveal our existence to anyone?” Lyon pressed.

“Fully.” She snorted. “They’d lock me up if I told anyone I’ve got a Daemon in my head. I understand what’s at risk, Lyon. Thanks to the horror stories Strome has told me of Satanan, I understand, as few possibly could, what the world faces if you fail to keep him from getting free. Strome and I will do anything in our power to help you win this battle, which is why I risked everything to find you in the first place. Satanan must be stopped.”

Lyon took her hand. “If you need anything, in any way, let us know. You have an ally in the Ferals.”

Vivian grinned. “Cool.”

Hawke exchanged phone numbers with her. As Hawke and Tighe escorted her out to her car, Kougar turned to Lyon.

“I’m not advocating this, but I’m going to say it because it has to be said. If Strome is correct, we have it in our power to not only break Satanan’s control of Wulfe but to keep him from growing stronger.”

Wulfe growled, low. “No.” He knew where this was going.

Kougar turned to him, something close to compassion in his eyes. “She’s already being harmed by the energy flowing through her. And each time Satanan snatches control of you, you risk killing her.”

He was talking about ending Natalie’s life. Now. Breaking the connection that way. No. Fucking. Way.

“If, during one of those episodes, Satanan forces you to pull those energies fully, you’ll likely turn on her and almost certainly kill one or more of us as well. It’s a terrible risk to take when the one you seek to protect has such a small chance of survival.”

“No!” Wulfe drew fangs and claws, the need to rip Kougar to shreds a fire within him.

Lyon grabbed one of Wulfe’s arms, Paenther the other. “No one’s going to touch Natalie but you, Wulfe,” Lyon said evenly. “Kougar brought it up because we need to consider every angle, but not a male among us would harm another’s female. Not even Kougar.”

Though the fury boiled hot, Wulfe allowed himself to be steered out of the room and toward the foyer.

“Work it out, Wulfe. Go down to the gym and find a Therian willing to give you the fight you need.” The Therian Guards might not be able to draw fangs and claws, but they were, at least, still immortal.

“If anyone touches her, I’ll kill him.”

“No one’s going to hurt her.”

But Wulfe heard the unsaid words. No one would hurt her as long as he remained one of them. In control. But if he ever let the darkness, the primal energies, take him, he knew his brothers would do whatever it took to bring him back, including destroying the connection that caused it. Natalie. Assuming he hadn’t already killed her himself.

Goddess help him.

With a furious roar, he slammed his fist through the plaster, then started down the basement stairs to find an immortal to fight. If only he could rip out his own Daemon soul instead.

Chapter Fourteen

Wulfe climbed the stairs to the third floor with heavy steps. He’d kept his claws and fangs sheathed and taken on five Therian Guards at once, pounding the crap out of them as they’d pummeled him in return. Though, dammit, they’d kept their punches light so as not to badly damage the mortal. He was beginning to think he understood how humans felt as they aged, as their younger comrades started treating them as old men.

He rubbed his jaw where he’d caught an elbow and squinted out of one eye that was starting to swell on him. Yeah, he’d taken almost as good a beating as he’d given, but he felt two hundred percent better. Not good, of course. Not when his world was still so f**ked up. But he felt like he could handle it again without going berserk.

At least as long as Satanan kept his evil claws out of his mind.

But as he approached the door of Natalie’s room, his steps slowed. He’d promised her answers, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to tell her. What was there to say? I played God and f**ked up your life. I’m sorry.

He rapped on her door.

“Come in, Wulfe.”

He unlocked her door and let himself in, wincing at her look of dismay.

“What happened?”

“I needed to fight. I sparred with some of the Therians.”

She dropped her book on the bed and strode toward him. “You need an icepack for that eye.” As she reached for his face, he grabbed her wrist, holding her back.

“I’m fine.”

Though she looked like she wanted to argue, she said nothing more, just watched him, her eyes alive with a dozen emotions, a hundred questions. The air sprang to life between them.