Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)

Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8) Page 8

“How much farther?” she whispered.

Too far. But all we need to do is stay ahead of them until the Ilinas find us.

But in the next instant, her foot snagged on a fallen limb, and she went down, hard.

Natalie.

She saw the sparkling lights, though even those were barely visible in the dark, and a moment later, strong arms scooped her up, then almost as quickly, released her legs, setting her back on her feet. She understood why as the clouds broke apart and moonlight illuminated the Mage running to surround them on every side. As before, they wore blue tunics and carried swords. As before, they meant trouble.

“Wulfe!” a woman’s voice called in the distance.

“Here!” Wulfe shouted in return. And before Natalie could wonder, two dark forms, two women, appeared beside them. Out of thin air.

“Stop them!” one of the enemy shouted.

Wulfe whirled and grabbed Natalie by the shoulders. Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt the force of his gaze. “You’re safe, Natalie. Don’t be afraid.”

Then he released her and stepped back. And her world went into free fall.

Natalie swayed, stunned.

The sudden lights blinded her. Voices erupted all around her. One moment she’d been in the pitch-black, rain-soaked woods. The next, here, behind this house, this . . . mansion . . . lit up like a birthday cake. People everywhere.

Impossible.

Her vision swam, her pulse thudded as her body turned cold and clammy.

Strong feminine hands grabbed hold of her arm. “Don’t faint on me, human,” the owner of those hands said, not unkindly.

“I need to get my head down.” Close by, she heard the sound of vomiting, but she struggled too hard to keep from passing out to worry about anyone else. Sinking to her knees, she folded over until her forehead nearly touched the dry grass. A soothing, slender hand stroked her back, filling her with warmth, easing back the dizziness, the shock.

As the vertigo passed, Natalie took a deep breath and sat up, glancing at the woman—a petite blonde with sharp, bright blue eyes. “Thank you.”

The woman smiled. “My gift comes in handy every now and then.”

“What happened?” Natalie asked, pushing herself slowly to her feet.

The woman grabbed her arm, helping her up. “I brought you to Feral House. You’ll be safe here.”

“You brought me?” Behind her companion, she saw Wulfe rising from his hands and knees, the light from dozens of windows playing over the muscles and contours of his perfect form.

“I was your Ilina transport. Wulfe’s fine, by the way. Humans handle Ilina travel much better than the immortal races, for some reason. I’m Melisande, the wife of one of the Ferals.”

Wulfe turned and saw her, his face a mask of concern as he started toward her. “I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing her shaking hand, his large fingers wrapping tight around hers. “I didn’t have time to fully warn you.”

Natalie nodded, swallowed. But her mind kept blanking from overload, screaming, This isn’t happening!

She clung to Wulfe’s hand, squeezing hard as his warm fingers settled more firmly around hers.

Slowly, her gaze eased around him, to take in her surroundings. On one side, at least a dozen people, both men and women, sat at tables scattered across the patio, watching her curiously. All appeared dressed similarly, in casual training pants and tanks. They looked like some kind of military fighting unit. Looking the other way, she saw several more of the fighters standing in the grass, watching her, swords at their sides.

The sound of a door had her turning back just as three muscular men strode from the house. The one in front, a male with a distinct air of authority, looked from Wulfe to her, and back again, scowling. The other two were a contrast—one with long black hair and the features of a Native American, a trio of scars slashing across one eye. The other as fair as his companion was dark, his blond hair cut short.

Wulfe turned to face them, his hand still tight around hers.

One by one, the three greeted Wulfe, clasping his arm at the elbow, slapping forearms.

“What happened?” the leader demanded, his amber eyes once more flicking unhappily toward her.

Wulfe glanced pointedly at the throng on the patio. “Can we talk inside?”

The leader nodded. “My office.” As he and the Native American turned back toward the house, the remaining man tossed Wulfe a pair of workout shorts then turned to her.

“I’m Tighe,” he told her, dimples appearing briefly in his cheeks. His eyes, warm and kind, ratcheted down her racing pulse a couple of notches.

As Wulfe released her hand to pull on the shorts, she nodded. “Hi, Tighe.”

“I’m sorry you got caught up in all this.”

“Me, too.”

Wulfe nodded toward the house and started forward, waiting for her to fall into step beside him, but he didn’t reach for her hand again.

Tighe brought up the rear. “You look like hell, Wulfe.”

“The bleeding’s stopped.”

“Thank the goddess for small favors,” Tighe murmured, as they crossed the patio. “Natalie appears unharmed.”

“One of the Mage enthralled her. I’ll tell you the rest when we get inside.”

Natalie glanced toward Wulfe. “Enthralled?”

His expression turned grim. “The Mage can . . . and did . . . capture your mind with a touch. Once I’d dispatched them, I carried you upstairs and laid you on the first bed I could find before I passed out.”

Dispatched them. A vision of blood and body parts flashed through her head, and she drew in a trembling breath and shoved the memory aside, focusing on the rest of his revelation. He was the one who’d put her in the guest room. Waking up there finally made sense. As much sense as anything tonight.

Wulfe led her into the house, into a huge room with the biggest, most ornate dining table she’d ever seen. A pair of crystal chandeliers hung above the table, casting light on walls covered in blue-and-gold wallpaper.

Somewhere nearby, a peel of high-pitched laughter was answered by a laugh she recognized instantly.

“Xavier.” Her body tensed, her heart jolting, as her gaze flew to Wulfe. “Is he here?”

A funny look crossed the big man’s face, a hint of a smile. “X!”

“Coming!” Xavier called back.

Natalie swayed, and Wulfe pulled her against his side, his arm around her shoulders. Her heart began to pound, tears burning her eyes. As the far door swung open, and her youngest brother pushed through, a cane in his hand, a smile on his beloved face, joy burst inside of her, powering her feet.

“Xavier,” she breathed, pulling away from Wulfe to rush toward him.

“Nat?” Xavier’s smile erupted into a full-out grin and he stopped, opening his arms for her.

Tears running down her cheeks, Natalie closed the distance between them and hugged her brother, who stood only a couple of inches taller than she, euphoric at the feel of his arms around her, at the sound of his heart beating against her own. Alive.

The events of the past hours ripped away the last shred of her control, and she began to sob as she held him, as she shook and rejoiced and thanked the heavens over and over and over again for giving him back to her.

Xavier patted her back. “Nat, are you okay? You smell like blood. What happened?”

“I’m fine. I’m just so . . . glad to see you.”

Finally, she pulled herself together and let go of him, stepping back enough to examine his face. Someone pressed a couple of tissues into her hand, and she used them to mop up her tears and blow her nose.

“What happened, Sis? What are you doing here?”

She felt a large hand settle on her shoulder and knew, without looking, that it belonged to Wulfe. The feel of him beside her helped settle her.

“The Mage found her again, X, but I was there. I took care of them, and they didn’t hurt her. She got a little bloody trying to staunch my wounds. She’s going to stay here for a while.”

“Wow. You’re okay, Wulfe?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Not cool that the Mage found you, Nat,” Xavier said. “But cool that you’re back. I’ve missed you.”

Natalie laughed, the sound watery. “Oh, Xavier, how I’ve missed you, too.”

“How’s Mom?”

She grimaced, unsure how to answer that. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her brother. But sometimes, only the truth would do.

“She’s grieving.”

His face fell. “She thinks I’m dead.”

Natalie met Wulfe’s gaze, holding on to the soft understanding she saw there. “Mom clings to the hope that you’re alive, but the cops . . .” She shook her head. “I’m afraid no one else thinks you survived.”

“I guess it’s better that way. No one’s looking for me.”

“Everyone’s looking for you. They’ve scoured the Harpers Ferry area over and over again. But they’re past the point of believing they’ll find you alive.”

“This has to be killing Mom.”

Natalie gripped his hand. “It’s been hard on her. You know how much she loves you. But she’s tough, Xavier. She’ll be okay.”

Sorrow cast a sheen in his eyes, and he squeezed her hand in return. “As long as you don’t disappear, too.”

The truth of his words cut deep. “I won’t.” Her gaze found Wulfe’s again. “I have to believe I’ll get home again.”

Wulfe nodded. “I’ll make it happen.”

And she believed he would if the power lay in his hands.

Wulfe clasped Xavier’s shoulder. “Lyon’s waiting for us in his office, X. You two can talk more later.”

Natalie hugged her brother again, drinking in the feel of his wiry body, and the sheer miracle of his survival before forcing herself to pull away. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Nat, for however long you stay. You have to meet Pink. She’s half-flamingo, but she can’t shift like the others can, she’s stuck that way. But she’s awesome.” Xavier frowned. “You’ll like it here, Nat. But do whatever they say. They’re the good guys, just do whatever they say.”

“I will.” But the gravity of his words sent a chill down her spine. They’re the good guys, but . . . She wasn’t safe here. Not entirely.

She squeezed Xavier’s hand, then turned back to Wulfe, surprised by the softness in his eyes as he watched her.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.”

His fingers curled lightly around her upper arm as he led her through the dining room and into the hall. His touch, his presence, steadied her. Strengthened her. Despite Xavier’s warning, she felt safe with Wulfe as she had from the moment she’d met him in his animal form, though she probably shouldn’t. In so many ways, he was a total stranger. And yet . . . he wasn’t. In his eyes, she recognized the same spirit, the same sweet yet fierce soul who’d pressed his wolf’s head against her thigh, then taken knife wound after knife wound to defend her. The man’s face was still new to her—the scars disturbing, mostly because they spoke of great suffering. But beneath those scars was a strong face, a handsome one. And his body, which she’d seen more of than she had any right to, was nothing short of breathtaking. His scent invaded her air, a warm, masculine aroma that wove a spell over her, easing the tension from her muscles even as it quickened her pulse.

Everything about him called to her on the most primitive level, leaving her feeling secure but not calm. No, not calm. His half-naked closeness excited every molecule in her body.

As he ushered her down the hallway, his thumb began to rub her upper arm gently. “You’re still shaking,” he said quietly.

She laughed, a single burst of air. “I’m still reeling from all that’s happened, but I’m fine, Wulfe. More than fine.” She turned and met his gaze, the joy barreling up and out of her in a grin that split her face. “My brother’s alive.” Tears pooled in her eyes all over again, but she blinked them back, watching as an answering smile lit Wulfe’s eyes, igniting a sparkle within those dark depths that set up a warm, lively dance in her chest. His scarred mouth twitched, then widened, his crooked smile nothing short of stunning. Her pulse took off in a crazy flight.

“That went down just as I had hoped it would,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?”

If possible, his eyes softened even further. “You’ve been sad. Seeing X made you happy.”

As gratitude and affection surged up inside of her, Natalie rose up and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “Very. Thank you.”

To her dismay, Wulfe jerked back, the light dying from his eyes. “You’re welcome.” But his tone turned flat, and he released her arm and turned away, continuing down the hall.

Natalie hurried to keep pace with him, wondering, unhappily, if she’d breached some kind of werewolf . . . shifter . . . etiquette. The last thing she wanted to do was displease the man who’d been nothing but wonderful to her. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the meeting ahead and whatever followed, because it was obvious she didn’t understand this world. Or, for that matter, the people in it.

She was in over her head, that was all too clear.

And she might have just alienated the only one standing by her side.

Chapter Six

She’d kissed him.

Wulfe led Natalie through Feral House to Lyon’s office, feeling knocked on his ass.

She’d kissed him.

Just his cheek, of course. But she’d touched his scars. With her lips. A thing Beatrice would have never done.