Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3)

Passion Untamed (Feral Warriors #3) Page 4

She had yet to do anything more than touch him, but he knew the Mage. The pain would come. He'd escape this captivity more damaged than he had the last.

If he escaped at all.

His gaze slid to the ceiling, to one of the lightwicks floating high above his head. The first time he ever saw a lightwick was the day he met Vhyper. After his ill-fated attempt to rescue a beauty who'd turned out to be Mage, he'd woken in a musty, dark cellar, chained on his back as he was now.

That time, though, he hadn't been alone.

Welcome to Hell, my friend, Vhyper had said. His face had taken on a fierce, fervent look. We are going to get out of this together. Do not doubt it. Do not ever doubt it.

And he hadn't.

Paenther fisted his hands as his gaze moved from the lightwicks to the stalactites and back again. Vhyper's words that day, repeated nearly every day of his captivity, had kept him focused through months of torture of the worst kind. They'd kept him sane.

Now he made a similar, silent promise to his friend. I won't give up until I find you, Vhype. Until I save you as you saved me. Don't ever doubt it.

But, dammit, he had to get free if he was ever going to be of any use to either one of them.

At the sound of footsteps outside the room, steps too heavy to be the witch's, Paenther turned his head to face the entrance.

And came face-to-face with Vhyper.

His friend walked casually through the door, looking the same as he always did, his sleek head gleaming beneath the lightwicks, a single earring in the shape of a snake dangling from the lobe of his right ear. He was dressed in his usual attire of open leather vest over a bare, broad chest, the golden Feral armband curled around his arm.

Paenther's heart lurched with triumphant relief, then plummeted to his stomach as he stared into Vhyper's eyes. Those dark blue eyes that had always glimmered with humor and warmth, even in the direst of circumstances, lay cold. Flat.

Soulless.

The eyes of a stranger.

Paenther felt the loss like a physical blow. What have you done with my friend? He could only pray that the man he knew, the man he'd trusted like no other, was still in there somewhere, trapped within the dark magic and not lost to him completely.

"Well, well, if it isn't my old friend, B.P. I must say, you're looking a little underdressed." Vhyper sauntered over to him, his mouth lifting into a smile that held no humor. "I knew you'd come to rescue me. Catching you was easy as child's play."

"Why are you here, Vhype?" Paenther asked evenly. His emotions were always under tight restraint, caught with the rage he battled every minute of every day.

Vhyper shrugged. "You know why."

"Do I? All I know is Zaphene turned you against us. What did she do to you, Vhyper?"

Vhyper tugged on his earring, his brows lowering. For a moment, Paenther thought he saw the old Vhyper walk through those eyes.

"Truthfully, I'm not sure it was the witch's doing. I think it happened the night we raised the spirit of the lion. I got bitten by that Daemon blade the same as the rest of you, but it changed me, B.P." His eyes narrowed in thought. "It rid me of my conscience. I'm not entirely sure it didn't steal my soul." Vhyper grinned suddenly, the coldness like frost over his eyes. "A hell of a way to live."

Paenther stared at him, railing at the fates. Not Vhyper. You can't have Vhyper! He owed the snake his sanity. His life. Grinding his teeth together, Paenther fought back the tide of anger. The Ferals would come. He needed to learn all he could.

"Are the Mage still trying to free Satanan and his Daemon horde?"

Vhyper tugged at his earring. "Of course."

"Why? How can you help them unleash that evil?"

Vhyper shrugged. "And what is evil, B.P.? Is it evil for the owl to kill the mouse?" He smiled coldly. "Depends on your point of view, doesn't it? On whether you're the owl...or the mouse."

"Satanan will destroy this world."

"Will he? Or will he simply feed from it? The Daemons were always at the top of the food chain."

"You're not a Daemon."

"True. But I'm not looking for power out of this." Again, his old friend's eyes narrowed, something approaching confusion entering their dark blue depths. "It's a compulsion, B.P., to free the evil."

"The evil's infected you, Vhype. It's controlling you. Fight it."

As quickly as the confusion had entered the shape-shifter's eyes, it disappeared again. His grin turned malicious. "It's not controlling me, Paenther. Nothing controls me now. Not even my conscience." He shrugged as if he were admitting a weakness for porn. "I find I've developed a taste for the misery of others."

Paenther shook his head. This wasn't the man he knew. "Why am I here?" His gaze flicked up to the pulsing orbs above his head. "To raise power to fill those? Or something more?"

Vhyper's smile was cold. "Depends on how much you raise." He lifted his hand and turned. "Later, B.P."

"Vhyper, wait. What about Foxx?" He had to know if the witch had told him the truth. Not that he could trust anything Vhyper said, either.

The man glanced back. "He got away. The witch wasn't interested in him and by the time the other Mage realized there were Ferals on the mountain, he was already gone. But the mountain has a magic all its own. If he started up the mountain at all, he'd have been snared by the spell."

Dread curled in Paenther's gut. "What spell?"

"An incantation to confuse. As soon as it took hold of him, he would have forgotten why he was there, forgotten all about you until he'd driven a good long way away. By then, he wouldn't even remember where he'd last seen you."

Vhyper laughed. "Had you hoped for a proper Feral rescue? Not going to happen, B.P. Foxx won't be able to lead them back here. You'll never leave here alive."

As he stared at the man who used to be his friend, something real moved through Vhyper's eyes, a glimmer of warmth. A hint of pain. A glimpse of the friend he'd known for so many years.

It was there and gone in an instant, swallowed by the evil. But Paenther's pulse began to pound. He knew what he'd seen. The Vhyper he'd give his life for was still in there. Subjugated to the darkness, but not lost. Not completely.

"Vhyper, fight it."

"There's nothing to fight, Paenther," he said coldly. "There's no one here who will help you. You have a role to play, just as we all do." Vhyper's eyes began to glitter. "It's going to be amazing, B.P. Things are going to happen you won't believe. And you won't want to miss. You'll have a front-row seat, old friend. I'll make sure of it."

Vhyper turned and walked out the door.

"Vhyper!" Paenther strained against his shackles, rattling his chains on the rock until his body was damp with sweat, and the coppery scent of his own blood coated his nostrils. Desperation, fierce and terrible, vibrated through his body as he fought to free himself with every ounce of strength he possessed.

Foxx was safe, but unless both Vhyper and the witch had lied to him, he wouldn't be leading the others back here. Paenther was as lost as Vhyper unless he could somehow find a way to reach his friend beneath the cold eyes of the evil that had ensnared him. Unless he could find a way to free them both.

He remembered thinking, after the witch Zaphene infiltrated Feral House, turning Vhyper, that things couldn't get much worse. He hadn't had a clue.

Now he was caught in trouble as deep as the blue of the eyes that had ensnared him. And he had a bad feeling this trouble had only begun.

Chapter Three

Skye rose from her private sanctuary in the dagger fields and brushed off her soft knit dress, her pulse finally back to normal - or as close to normal as it was likely to get with the Feral strapped to her bed. She had to get back to him. As much as she dreaded facing those hate-filled black eyes, she needed to make certain all her creatures were okay - the ones who walked on four feet and the very large, very masculine shape-shifter who at present walked on two.

Her stomach clenched. Midnight was not far away.

She retraced her path, dodging puddles and dripping stone, the rock cool beneath her bare feet. In the distance she heard the sounds of voices as the sorcerers prepared the evening rituals and the women of the cavern readied the evening meal. At one time, she would have helped them. But not anymore. She was no longer one of them.

She alone still possessed a soul.

Her stomach growled. It had been two days since she'd last eaten. But as she turned a corner in the rock and spied Birik talking to one of his sentinels, her appetite fled.

Birik was striking in his way, with his fawn-colored skin, long white hair, and cruel green eyes, his body as lean and quick as the thorn whip he'd used on her as a child. Curled around his neck and draped over one shoulder was a large black rat snake. Two gray-and-copper corn snakes slithered around his feet.

She didn't mind the snakes. She was drawn to all creatures. But the man was another matter. If she could do anything to avoid him, she would, but there was no other way back to her room from here. So she averted her gaze as she approached where he stood, seeking to avoid his notice as she always did. But as she tried to pass, stepping around his snakes, he grabbed her arm, his cruel fingers digging into her flesh and pulling her to a stop.

Fear shivered up her spine.

Birik released her only to lift those thin, brutish fingers to her cheek, making her swallow hard. The brush of his fingers was unnaturally gentle, doing nothing to quell the speeding of her pulse. His gentleness always scared her more than his casual cruelty. Skye held perfectly still, knowing better than to let him see her fear.

"You did well, enchantress." His eyes glittered with excitement. "The power was more than I'd hoped for, and you've yet to ride him."

She didn't ask how he knew she hadn't mated with the Feral since bringing him into the cavern. Birik always knew more than he should. "He's not ready to be mounted."

Birik laughed. "He's male, and clearly drawn to you. A few strokes of your hand or tongue, and I guarantee he'll be ready."

Skye swallowed again, nodding. There was no use arguing. Birik neither understood nor cared that the Feral's hatred of his captivity and his captor made him fight the attraction, or that she'd succeed far better if the man, like any creature in captivity, were given a few days to calm to her touch.

The Mage who'd been her master, teacher, and tormentor since she was eight grabbed her jaw, squeezing until she thought he might break the bones in her face, hurting her until the tears she struggled to hold back clouded her vision.

"Don't fail me, Skye. You won't like the consequences."

Apprehension fluttered in her stomach. She knew the consequences all too well. "I won't fail you."

The moment Birik released her, she hurried past him, descending the ancient stairs carved into the rock as she fled to the relative safety of the prison cell that had become her bedroom when she was eight. She'd fought Birik back then. Bitterly. He'd taken everything from her, all comfort, all warmth. And when that still hadn't forced her compliance, he'd hurt her, terribly, over and over and over again until he'd finally broken her will.

Giving up hadn't been easy. It had never been in her nature to acquiesce. But the pain had become more than she could stand. And she'd finally understood there was nothing more that she could do but accept her fate.

As she neared the door to her chamber, she thought of the beautiful man trapped inside. And what she had to do. Her fist pressed against the harsh ache of guilt lodged beneath her breastbone. She wasn't the only one who suffered because of Birik's control over her. If she wanted to keep the Feral alive, she had little choice but to make him suffer more.

She reached her room to find him as she'd left him, chained and furious. A man chained and naked as he was should look helpless. But dark, angry eyes speared her as danger rolled off him, filling the very air of the room. He was the most powerful, most unsettling, male she'd ever encountered. Just being in the same room with him sent her pulse pounding in a way that had only a little to do with fear.

A thrill of energy rolled across her skin, drawing her eyes to the orbs. Birik had drained them while she was gone, yet already they were beginning to glow again. Lust shimmered in the air. Hers, certainly.

Did he feel it, too? There was so much fury in his eyes, it was difficult to say. But then her gaze traveled the length of his hard, muscular body, coming to rest on the arousal standing straight up from his groin, long and thick and rigid.

Oh, he felt it, all right. And wasn't the least bit happy about it.

"Free me," the man growled between clenched teeth as he watched her with a predator's stillness.

Skye went to where the animals awaited, greeting them silently as they greeted her, running her hands down the neck of the doe and bending to let the sweet creature nuzzle her cheek as Faithful always did. Sharp grief pierced her heart at the thought of this deer's future.

"If I could free you, I would." She'd free them all, herself included. But freedom from Birik was impossible. She'd tried. Over and over she'd tried until Birik made certain she would never try again.

With a last stroke of the doe's soft coat, she crossed back and closed the steel door to the room, a door Birik had installed years ago to keep her in. She rarely bothered to close it anymore. It had never kept anyone out. But she closed it now, needing no audience for what she must do.

With a deep breath that did little to calm her, she moved slowly toward the cold slab of rock that had acted as her bed for so many years. The Feral's black eyes watched her every step of the way. As she drew near, she couldn't find the courage to meet the anger in his eyes and looked away, letting her gaze wander over his powerful male body instead. He was truly magnificent. Mage males tended toward slim physiques and few overt muscles. Not so the Ferals.