Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(90)

The distinctive sound track of the original Star Wars movie cut the stillness suddenly. All heads turned toward the door, where one of the Daemon males held a laptop like he feared it would explode in his hands. As he approached, all the Daemons stared, wide-eyed, many of them backing away.

“What is this?” Strome demanded.

“It’s harmless,” Lyon assured him. “Human technology. Playacting.”

The Daemon moved to where he could watch the battle on the screen, then shook his head, his eyes wide. “The world has indeed changed.”

Lyon grunted. “We don’t live in the Star Wars universe, but yes, it’s changed. More than you can imagine.”

Strome moved away from the laptop and extended his hand to Lyon. “I thank you, shifter. You and your people have freed me and mine. We are in your debt.”

After only a moment’s hesitation, Lyon met him halfway. “You have a lot of catching up to do. I suggest you coerce the remaining Mage into showing you how to use the televisions and computers, and learn how to live in the twenty-first century. I’ll send Wulfe back to see how you’re doing in a couple of days. Right now, we have other things to attend to.”

Lyon turned to Ariana.

“Home?” Ariana asked.

Lyon smiled, reaching for Kara as he turned to Wulfe with a lift of a tawny eyebrow.

Wulfe’s still-stunned gaze returned to Ciroc. He nodded, getting a nod and a smile in return, then glanced down to find Natalie watching him with color in her cheeks and an incandescent joy in her eyes.

The smile tugging at his mouth bloomed fully. “Home.”

Two hours later, the Ferals sat or stood around the massive dining table in Feral House with their mates. Their numbers had swelled, and would continue to, it seemed, until they were twenty-six once more. The moment they’d returned to Feral House, a carafe of Inir’s blood in hand, they’d performed a series of rituals to bring the new Ferals residing in their prisons into their animals. Castin, as they’d expected, had shifted into a cheetah. Rikkert, into a rhino. Kougar had declared their Feral names to be Cheet and Rhyne, respectively. The third male, now known as Dact, had shifted into a startling creature—a long-extinct pterodactyl with a twenty-foot wingspan. A one-man demolition team if he ever shifted in the house.

With each Renascence, Kara had felt stronger and better, making it clear that the souls inside these Ferals were honorable and good. Sabine had been right, and they had no more qualms about Lepard, whom she’d declared also good. Only Grizz’s soul remained in question, though only, it seemed, to the grizzly shifter himself. No one else doubted the honor of a male who’d risked his life to save his brothers.

The second ritual had cleared the new Ferals and Polaris of the dark magic that had infected all the animal spirits of the seventeen. The third had cleared Lepard and Grizz of the dark charm’s curse, restoring their immortality.

Now, seventeen Ferals sat or stood around the table.

Nine new Ferals had yet to come in—the ones who would be marked to replace the evil Ferals and the three who’d yet to appear. Kougar had finally revealed the ones missing to be the horse, the gorilla, and the arctic wolf.

Wulfe liked the idea of another wolf in the house.

In addition to the Ferals, all the wives had joined them. And Natalie.

She sat beside him, leaning against him, his arm around her shoulders. Her sweet scent filled his senses, her nearness, his heart. Goddess, he loved her. As if she felt that surge of emotion, she turned to meet his gaze, her eyes soft as a summer breeze, setting his pulse to flight at her loveliness. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks rosy. Pulling the energies through her hadn’t injured her permanently from what he could tell. She’d recovered almost immediately. All he wanted to do now was sweep her up to his room and make love to her until neither of them cared about the future, about anything but lying in one another’s arms.

But now wasn’t the time. And he was dreading getting her alone as much as he was looking forward to it. Because the moment he did, they were going to have to have the talk. He intended to pop the question. And he was terrified she was going to kiss him and tell him that her life was in Frederick, not here.

How could he ask her to give up her work, her mom, her home? Everything?

But, goddess, he wanted her to stay with him.

“Victory to the Feral Warriors!” Tighe shouted, thrusting his fist into the air.

“Victory to the Feral Warriors!” the others shouted in reply, their fists rising as one. Only Grizz, standing apart, didn’t participate.

“Can we claim victory?” Hawke asked, ever practical. “With the Daemons now free?”

“The wraith Daemons are gone,” Lyon replied. “As is Satanan.”

“And Inir,” Paenther added. “Perhaps now, some of the Mage who’ve lost their souls will begin to reclaim them again.”

“We’ll have to keep a close eye on the Daemons and the others who escaped.” Kougar took a sip of his whiskey. “More than one has traditionally fed on humans though I’m the first to admit I know little about most of those races. They inhabited a different part of the world from the shifters in those ancient times, and they were already firmly under Satanan’s control by the time I was born. Perhaps, as Strome indicated, the evil we’ve always attributed to Daemons in general was only a reflection of Satanan’s control over them.”