Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(71)

“Wulfe?” Kougar asked. “What’s happening?”

“I’m not sure.” He felt the tug again, hard and insistent. Was his animal trying to reach him? The thought lifted his heart until he realized that it was coming from another place, his heart and that gossamer thread that he’d recognized as the beginnings of a mating bond.

Down that finest of threads, he heard something, as faint as a whisper in a gale.

A scream.

“Natalie.” He shoved forward, pushing his brothers aside. “Natalie’s in trouble.”

The others parted for him, and he ran, up the stairs, through the foyer, up two more flights. But as he neared the third-floor hallway, wisps of red smoke began to seep into the edges of his field of vision.

“Roar!” He couldn’t lose it. Not now, not when Natalie needed him.

“We’re right behind you,” Lyon said.

Wulfe ran down the hall, hearing the reassuring footfalls of his brothers following close. “She’s in pain, and the darkness is gunning for me. If I don’t reach her before it gets me, knock her out.”

“We will.”

But as he neared her door, he heard nothing. No scream, no sound of pain or shout for help. Just a perfect, terrible silence. Either the Ilina had already whisked Natalie away, or Natalie had never called out. Wulfe burst through the door, then came to a sudden halt at the horrible sight that met his eyes.

Natalie stood in the middle of the room, facing him, blood dripping from her fingertips onto the carpet, her head thrown back in agony, tears running into her hair as she whispered words he didn’t understand. No, words he did understand. Daemon words.

“Satanan has her.” Wulfe lunged forward, gathering her close, and watching as terrified gray eyes swung toward him with relief. Placing a kiss on her brow, he jammed his thumb beneath her ear, then swung her into his arms as she fell unconscious.

Shaking badly, he turned to where Lyon, Hawke, and Kougar stood just inside the door. “The words were Daemon words designed to open the channel to the primal energies.”

“Maybe you should put her down, Wulfe,” Lyon said evenly. All three males watched him as if they thought they were going to have to tackle him to the ground again at any moment.

“I’m okay. The shadows have subsided.” For now.

“Is the channel open?” Kougar asked.

“Yes.” He could feel a slight buzz of energy he hadn’t before. Goddess, what if that darkness started to build in him? What if he lost it and never came back? But even as the worry flew through his head, knowledge followed. He wouldn’t lose control to such a small amount of primal energy.

With a shake of his head, he met Lyon’s gaze. “The channel has only been opened a crack. I’m the one who needs to say the words to open it, not Natalie. But Satanan has managed to get himself a steady, if small, flow of power. It’s going to strengthen him.”

“Does he have complete control over her now?” Hawke asked.

“No.” He frowned, his stomach full of lead shot. “I hope not.”

“This connection Satanan has with you is no good, you know that,” Lyon said evenly.

“I know.” Wulfe’s grip on Natalie tightened, and he knew what was going through Lyon’s head. Probably all of their heads. The safest course of action would be to sever the connection. Here. Now.

“I love her.” He met the gazes of each of his brothers in turn, men he’d lay his life down for in an instant. “I’ll kill you before I let you hurt her.”

Lyon’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “We risk much for the women we love.”

“Without them, what do we have that’s worth fighting for?” Hawke asked philosophically.

To Wulfe’s surprise, Kougar nodded. “Natalie lives. It’s Inir that dies.”

But they were back to square one. Wulfe looked down at the woman in his arms and wished he could pack her up and take her somewhere, away from the wary gazes, somewhere that Satanan and Inir couldn’t send Mage sentinels after them.

He turned to Kougar suddenly. “Would the Ilinas host a couple of corporeal visitors for a few hours? I’ll go stark, raving mad . . . again . . . if I don’t get out of this house.”

“The Ilinas would welcome you, but I suggest Melisande accompany you.”

Lyon nodded. “If you have any trouble, she and her mist warriors can either whisk you both back here, or us up there.”

“You’ll be safe enough there,” Kougar added. “As safe as anywhere.”

And that was the real crux of the matter. As long as Satanan had his claws in them, there was nowhere they could really hide.

Natalie came awake to the feel of a large, tender hand stroking her hair. Wulfe’s. Even without opening her eyes, she knew he was the one who held her on his lap, cradled against his strong chest.

“Are you back?” he asked softly.

With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and met his concerned gaze, then tensed as she saw the bleakness there. Struggling to sit up, she reached for him, her hand pressing against his cheek.

“What happened? Something terrible happened. Someone died.”

He stared at her, shook his head. “You amaze me with your perception. No one died, not exactly. I lost my animal.” At those last words, his brow tightened, grief slashing across his eyes.