Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(6)

“That’s good. I’m glad she has someone to help her through this.”

“Me, too. Just thought you’d like to know.”

The kid grinned. “Thanks, dude.” Dude, always dude.

“You’re welcome, dude.” And now he had them saying it.

He saw no need to share his worries with Xavier since the kid could never leave Feral House to see his sister again; nor could she ever know he still lived. They occupied two different worlds, now. Xavier and Wulfe one, Natalie the another. It was a fact Wulfe would do well to remember himself.

Returning to the table, he took his seat across from Fox and his new mate, Melisande, and dug into his meal.

“Everyone still able to shift?” Paenther asked, his tone nonchalant even as a thread of tension ran through his words.

It was no idle question. The Ferals had been at war with the Mage pretty much from the dawn of time except for a small period five millennia ago when the two immortal races had pooled their combined power and magic to defeat the High Daemon, Satanan, imprisoning him and his entire Daemon horde in a magical prison, the Daemon Blade. But some years ago, the powerful Mage, Inir, had become infected with a wisp of Satanan’s consciousness left behind all those millennia ago, a consciousness that had grown within Inir until they suspected that Satanan himself now directed the Mage in the battle to free himself and his horde from that blade.

The primary thing needed in order to accomplish that was the unanimous consent of all the Feral Warriors, a thing the real Ferals would never give. But Inir had found a way around that. He’d created a small band of evil Ferals, and now slowly destroyed the good ones through the curse that was turning them mortal and would soon, they feared, steal their ability to shift into their animals, if not steal their lives. They suspected that the charm had been made with Daemon magic, the most powerful force on Earth. Unfortunately, none of the usual methods of clearing the magic had worked. All they could do now was search for a cure. And pray they found it in time.

Wulfe was shoveling his last bite into his mouth when Lyon strolled into the dining room, Kara in his arms, tucked neatly against his chest. Though of average height, the woman looked tiny within the arms of her powerful mate. And very ill thanks to another of Inir’s diabolical attacks. But her arm was hooked around Lyon’s neck, her tired eyes bright with pleasure as she spotted the rest of the Ferals. As one, they rose and went to greet her.

Wulfe kissed her on the forehead, squeezing her hand, as Kougar patted her knee. One after another, they silently told their beloved Radiant how much they cared until her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

The Radiant was the one woman in all the world who could pull the energies from the earth that allowed the Ferals to access the power of their animals, to shift. Without that radiance, even without a dark charm f**king up the works, they’d eventually weaken and die, though it would take time—a couple of years.

But Kara had come to mean far more to them than simply their provider of radiance. Though she’d only been with them a short time, and had come to them believing herself human, she’d proved herself brave and loyal beyond compare, stealing all of their hearts, not just the heart of their chief, to whom she was now mated. If anything happened to her, they would all suffer. Lyon would be destroyed.

Lyon pressed a kiss to the top of his mate’s head, then joined them at the table, seating Kara to his right.

Kara smiled wearily. “I needed a change of scenery.”

“Twenty minutes, no more.” Lyon grabbed a plate. “Eggs? You have to eat.”

Her smile turned soft as her gaze met her mate’s. “You’re a tough nurse. But, yes, eggs would be nice.”

Lyon’s eyes filled with such love as Kara’s hand covered his much larger one, that Wulfe almost felt compelled to look away.

Around the table, the Ferals turned to their wives with a kiss or a touch, all moved by the deep love between their chief and his mate, all sharing the fear that the Ferals’ days were numbered. Only Wulfe and Vhyper remained single, which was a startling change from a year ago, when Wulfe had been the sole mated male. Nine months ago, his mate Beatrice, their previous Radiant, had been killed in a Mage attack. He’d mourned her, of course. Mating bonds between immortals were physical things that, when broken, damaged the one left behind. And he had been damaged in ways he was only beginning to figure out.

The thing was, as he watched his brothers with their mates, he knew that what he’d had with Beatrice had been pale and thin in comparison. Theirs had been a mating decreed by the goddess, as the Radiant’s mating always was. He’d hoped it would be a good one, like Lyon and Kara’s, but Beatrice had never been able to see past his scars. She’d allowed him to make love to her, but only on occasion, and only in full dark. He’d often suspected she’d fancied herself the Ferals’ queen and he the one designated to serve her sexual needs. But she’d never really wanted him. And he was certain she’d never loved him.

No, their relationship had not been satisfying to either of them, and while the severing of their mating bond had damaged him, her loss hadn’t crushed him as it should have.

As his gaze roamed the table, skipping from Hawke’s stroke of Falkyn’s cheek to Paenther’s eyes as he gazed at Skye, to Melisande’s head tipped against Fox’s shoulder and the soft kiss he placed on her crown, he felt an ache deep in his chest. An emptiness. A loneliness that he’d rarely felt so sharply. Because there was a woman that his heart had begun to long for. A human engaged to another. A woman who could not be his.