Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(72)

“Oh, Wulfe.” This was bad, in so many ways, she knew that. But in that moment, all she could feel was his anguish, and it slew her. Sliding her arms around his neck, she pulled him close, held him tight as he buried his face against her shoulder. Fear washed through her in an icy flow because she knew that a Feral without his animal would not survive.

Her hold on him tightened until her muscles began to quake. “You can’t die.”

“It’s not going to come to that,” he said against her hair. “We’re not going to let it come to that.” But while he made a decent effort to reassure her, she heard no certainty in his voice.

As her gaze slowly took in her surroundings, she began to frown. They appeared to be sitting at the base of a cascade of rocks, beneath a bright blue sky. But the air . . . It was sparkling, as if filled with tiny crystals!

She jerked upright and peered around. In front of her sat a lovely pool of clear water fed by a small, tinkling waterfall. It was lovely in a stark kind of way. There wasn’t a plant or flower in sight despite the fact that she smelled the unmistakable scent of pine.

“What is this place?” she asked, pushing off Wulfe’s lap to stand and look around.

“We’re safe here.” Wulfe’s bare feet dangled in the water. “We’re in the Crystal Realm. The Ilinas’ castle is just beyond the rocks.”

She cocked her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “Where?”

“In the clouds.”

Natalie scowled. “That’s not possible.”

“And a race of women who can turn to mist, disappear at will, and travel anywhere in the world in seconds is?”

Natalie stared at him a moment more, then blinked, giving up. She’d already accepted shape-shifters, Daemons, and Mage. And she’d seen the Ilinas appear and disappear, had even traveled with one. What was a castle in the clouds compared to all that?

Of far more concern was why they were here. “What happened, Wulfe? The last thing I remember, you were about to perform some ritual with the Ferals to reclaim your immortality.” With a frown, she understood. “It didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Do you remember anything of what happened in your room?”

The way he was looking at her, she knew it must be bad. “Tell me.”

He held out his hand to her and when she took it, pulled her onto the rock beside him and slid his arm around her shoulders. “Somehow, Satanan forced you to perform a ritual that opened the channel a little bit.” When her jaw dropped, he added hastily, “Not far. I knocked you out and brought you here afterward.”

Vaguely, she remembered . . . something. More like a nightmare than reality. “I hurt myself, didn’t I?”

“Yes. He forced you to scratch open your wrists and whisper a string of ritual words. I got there in time to stop you before it accomplished much.”

She lifted one of her wrists and looked at clear, uninjured flesh. With a purse of her lips, she reached for his free arm and turned it over, eyeing the thin scratches.

“You took my wounds again.”

Eyes filled with infinite warmth watched her softly. “I will always take your injuries. I can’t stand to see you in pain.”

Love welled up, filling her chest until it nearly cut off her breath. She lifted a hand to his cheek, lifted her face for his kiss, and he met her halfway. Warm lips brushed hers, featherlight. Strong arms pulled her tight against his muscular chest, and he kissed her with increasing urgency, with rising need and passion. Her pulse took off, her breath growing shallow, then disappearing altogether as their mouths merged, their tongues twining, their limbs shaking with need and desire.

His hand slid into her hair, cupping her head, as he deepened the kiss. His need transmitted to her through desperate hands and fierce kisses, and the growing erection that pressed more and more insistently against her hip. Liquid heat slid through her, and she shook with the desire to feel him inside her again, to become one with him once more.

Wulfe’s hand slid down her back, then up under her shirt to press against her warm flesh. His mouth tore from hers, his lips pressing against her cheek, her eye, her temple.

“I need to be inside you, Natalie.”

“Yes. Please.”

He moved with swift grace for such a big man, stripping them both of their shirts and her of her bra before she could lift a trembling hand to help him. As she pulled off her shoes, he rose to his feet and divested himself of the remainder of his clothes. Laying their T-shirts on the rocks, he scooped her up and set her atop them, then quickly stripped her bare.

For long moments he sat back on his heels, gazing at her, naked except for the gleaming golden wolf’s-head armband, his gaze skimming slowly over her bare flesh, setting every single inch on fire.

Watching him filled her with such happiness, despite everything, that a fleeting smile found its way to her mouth. His gaze flicked to hers, a wry, answering smile lighting his eyes as his hand reached for her, skimming up her abdomen, then cupping her breast. A moment later, she was on her back, his mouth on her breast, his hand between her legs. He drove her up, hard and fast, until she was crying out from an exquisite release. Finally, he settled between her thighs, met her gaze with an expression so full of heat and tenderness that it melted the heart in her chest, and slid thickly, deeply, wonderfully inside her.

Natalie reached up and clasped her hands behind his neck, holding on as she met him, thrust for thrust. Their gazes locked, her heart opened so fully she began to think their hearts, too, were becoming one.