Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(7)

Natalie.

Jag dropped his fork suddenly, with a startling clatter, his face a mask of alarm.

Olivia grabbed his hand. “What’s the matter?”

“My animal . . .” He shoved to his feet so fast his chair fell back, slamming against the floor. With quick, hard strides, he moved away from the table, his back to them, ramrod straight, his fists clenched at his sides. Suddenly, he whirled to face them, his face a mask of shock, quickly turning to fury.

“I can’t f**king shift!”

The room went silent, even the Guards quieting. As one, the Ferals exchanged glances, the ramification of Jag’s statement rushing over them simultaneously.

Deep inside, Wulfe’s animal growled as if he understood. And he probably did.

“It’s begun,” Kougar murmured.

They were losing their immortality. Now, their animals.

Olivia rose and went to her mate, sliding her arms around Jag’s waist as he hauled her close in return.

Did this mean Jag would be the first to die? Goddess help them all. The moment they were gone, there would be nothing to stop Inir and his evil band of Ferals from freeing the Daemons.

Paenther asked the question they were all thinking. “Maybe we need to attack Inir’s stronghold while most of us can still shift, Roar.”

Lyon eyed his second-in-command with a hard sigh. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. If I really thought we’d never recover, we’d move now, but I refuse to believe that. Attacking fully functioning Ferals as mortals is akin to suicide. And I’m not leading you in there to die. Not if we have any other choice.”

Kougar leaned back in his chair. “There’s a good chance Ariana has the answers in her head. She just has to find them.” Within the Queen of the Ilinas’ mind was amassed all of the knowledge of the queens who’d come before her. “As she’s fond of telling me, her personal encyclopedia of knowledge is neither indexed nor easily browsed. But if the answers are in there, Ariana will find them.”

“If,” Tighe muttered. “And even if she does, will it be in time?”

Fox rose and strode to Jag, gripping his shoulder, concern etched into the hard planes of his face.

There were no words of comfort, and they all knew it. Jag might be the first, but the others would follow. If they didn’t find a way to reverse the dark charm’s curse soon, they were all going to die. And Satanan and his terrifying horde would rise.

Chapter Three

After breakfast, Wulfe shifted into his animal and curled up outside the Shaman’s bedroom door so he wouldn’t miss his waking. At half past noon, Wulfe finally heard the Shaman stir, and leaped up. As he trotted back to his own room, he called to Tighe telepathically, a form of communication only possible when one or the other of them was in his animal, and only when they were in relatively close proximity.

The Shaman’s awake. If he’s willing, do you still want to go with us to Frederick?

I’ll meet you in the foyer in five, Tighe replied.

Reaching his bedroom, Wulfe shifted and dressed, and was just striding back down the upstairs hall when the door he’d been lying in front of opened, and the male he’d been waiting for stepped out.

The Shaman was unique in many ways—more ancient than the pyramids and gifted with an ability to sense magic that most Therians lacked. He looked like a young teenager from a couple of centuries past, his hair long and tied at his nape, his long-sleeved white shirt ruffled. But while his face remained youthful, lacking even the ability to grow a beard, his eyes held an unmistakable wisdom and compassion.

“Shaman, may I have a word?”

“Good morning, Wulfe. Yes, of course.”

Wulfe told him briefly about the odd glow. At the Shaman’s frown, a fist formed in his stomach.

“I need to see her,” the ancient said.

“I can’t bring her here. Can you spare a little time?”

“Yes, of course. I would enjoy the drive. The road often clears my mind.”

“Good. Great. Do you want to eat first?” He was in a hurry to get going . . . it had been hours, but the male deserved to get some lunch if he wanted to.

“If you’ll stop by Starbucks on the way out, I’m ready.”

“Deal. Let’s go.”

They found Tighe waiting for them in the foyer, an unopened package of Oreo cookies in his hand. “I told Delaney where we’re going and why,” he said, as the three headed out to Wulfe’s truck. “They can send Ilinas for us if they need us in a hurry.”

Ilina travel was a bitch. It might be fast as lightning, since the Ilinas’ natural state was mist, but it was a head-spinning, stomach-turning ride that they’d all rather avoid.

Wulfe and Tighe piled into the front seats of the truck. As the Shaman climbed in the back, Tighe handed him the Oreos. “When we get there, knock on Natalie’s door and tell her you’re selling cookies. Human kids do it all the time.” Tighe glanced at Wulfe ruefully. “Delaney rolled her eyes when I told her the plan. She said brownies sell cookies. What the hell does that mean? When I asked if we had any brownies, D just laughed and waved me out of the kitchen.”

“It’s got to be a human thing.”

“Clearly.” Tighe glanced at him carefully. “Any chance what you saw at Natalie’s has something to do with your Daemon blood?”