A deep, lions growl erupted from Lyons throat. Youre ours now, witch, and well do whatever we damn please. The death of one Mage wont upset the balance of the natural world. Lyon lifted that hard gaze to Paenther. Lock her up. Ill call you and Jag when the women get here. As soon as youre cleared, well meet in the war room.
Paenther released her, took her arm again, and pulled her down the hall to a doorway, then down a long, long flight of stairs.
Paenther. She swallowed hard. Im not your enemy. If I were, I wouldnt have helped you escape.
His hand tightened around her upper arm. I dont want to hear it. His voice was like ice.
I hate Birik as much as you do. More! I hate him more.
He jerked her, making her lose her balance, but his too-tight grip kept her from falling. Silence.
With a mounting feeling of dread, she did as he commanded. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he led her down a long passage lit by electric sconces hung on the walls. They walked past a dark room before Paenther led her into a large, well-lit room with ultramodern workout equipment at one end.
She wondered if theyd rigged up the exercise machinery to turn this into some kind of torture chamber, but Paenther never slowed as he pulled her through the large room until he reached a glass wall at the far end. Set into the glass was a door.
Paenther pushed her through into a long, narrow passage that appeared to have been cut out of the rock. The stone was cold beneath her feet. Finally, the passage opened to a wide, rustic prison block, each cell separated from the next by thick stone walls.
Her stomach cramped at the realization that this was to be her fate. For how long? Would she ever again see the light of day?
So many times, Birik had imprisoned her. But shed always known all she had to do to be set free was cooperate. The power to free herself had always, ultimately, been in her hands.
This time, nothing was in her hands. Her breath caught on a hard lump of fear. Revenge, hed said. She was used to pain. But taking the abuse from this man, who she knew possessed kindness, threatened to break her. Her body began to tremble.
Paenther pulled her to a halt in front of one of the cells and opened it. Leave us, he said to the two men whod followed them down.
No can do, Hiawatha, Jag drawled.
Paenther glared at him. When he spoke, his voice was hard. Go back to the gym and shut the door. Both of you. The witch and I are going to have adiscussion. And I wont have an audience.
If his words hadnt told her he meant to hurt her, the tightening of his grip on her arm did. Her mouth went dry, and it was suddenly all she could do not to try to fight her way loose from his hold.
But shed never get loose, never get away. And the punishment would only be worse if she tried. That was the way it had always been with Birik.
The air didnt seem to want to go into her lungs.
The pale-eyed man slapped Jag on the back. Come. To Paenther he said, Dont kill her. Yet.
As the two huge males walked away, Skye fought the tears that tried to clog her throat. It was so much harder taking cruelty from a man whod once been kind. Lucians betrayal had broken her as Biriks attacks never had.
Paenther released her arm and pushed her into the cell.
Skye whirled to face him, desperate to try to make him understand. Please, Paenther. Nothing I did was because I wanted to. Except free you.
Shut up, Skye.
He controls me. I dont have a choice. I never have a choice!
He grabbed her and pushed her around, pressing her face-first into the rock wall until the cold stone bit into her cheek.
Shut up!
She felt his hand tugging at the hem of her dress and closed her eyes against the burn of tears. He grabbed her buttocks, his fingers digging into her painfully, over and over, first one side then the other.
Where is it? Wheres your cantric? His hands began to grip her thighs, bruising her.
It was embedded in my heart when I was eight.
His hand stopped abruptly. Thats impossible.
She swallowed hard, remembering the words of his chief. Get rid of her cantric.
Paenther, please.
He tugged and pulled at her wrists, and suddenly her arms were free of the binding. Gripping her shoulders, he turned her around roughly, his eyes hard as flint.
Take off your dress.
She stared at him. He wasnt going to kill her. Not yet. Of course not, she thought bitterly. Hed yet to take his revenge.
With shaking hands, she reached for the hem, pulling the fabric up and over her head in a single tug. Nudity didnt bother her. She was far too used to it. Instead of tossing the dress to the floor, she pulled it against her chest like a shield. No, nudity didnt bother her. It was why he wanted her naked that terrified her. What punishment did he intend to visit on her body?
Her heart began to pound in hard, erratic thuds. Trembling, she met his hard gaze.
Fire burned in his eyes. And the promise of pain.
As many times as Birik had hurt her, she knew this would be worse. Because Birik was without a soul. He got no more pleasure from hurting her than he did anyone else. In a strange way, it wasnt personal. And because of that, the pain he inflicted never touched her mind or her heart.
But Paenther wasnt like Birik. She knew he had kindness in him. Shed felt it. Been warmed by it.
Whatever punishment Paenther chose to mete out would be very, very personal.
When he hurt her, she was going to bleed all the way to her soul.
CHAPTER 8
Its payback time, Paenther snarled. Leaving Skye in the cage, pressed against the wall with her dress clutched to her chest, he grabbed a small coil of rope off the wall. He was so damned mad at her. He knew what she was! Yet she simpered and pleaded and tugged at his sympathies. Playing him. She was still playing him! Its time I rode you as you rode me, witch. But you like it bloody, dont you? I wonder how youll like it when the bloods your own.
With the knife hed taken from the farmhouse, he started cutting lengths of rope and tying them to the eyebolts fastened at the base of the walls at regular intervals for just this purpose. When hed tied the last length, he rose and stared down at her as she stood covering herself in a pretense of modesty, trembling.
Creamy shoulders sloped from a long, graceful neck. A swell of bare hip peeked out from behind the dress, heating his blood.
Quit pretending, Skye. I know what you are. Lie down. Its time you felt what its like to be the one staked, your legs spread for anothers pleasure.
Goddess, the thought of parting those silken legs, of finally, finally, being able to touch her fully, sent blood throbbing deep and low.
I know what it feels like. Her voice vibrated with fear and echoed with hollowness. Those chains werent put on that rock for you.
His gaze snapped to hers as her words registered. That rock where hed lain, strapped for six days. Her dresses hanging on the wall as if that miserable bit of rock were her cell and not his.
Shit. He would not feel sorry for her! It was what she wanted. Just an act.
But as he stared at her, at those copper-and-blue eyes, hed be damned if he could see any cunning. She had to be enchanting him, because all he saw in her was a terrible bleakness. And it chilled him to the bone.
What if Im wrong about her?
As she watched him, a sheen of tears began to glisten in her eyes. Tears just like the ones that had streaked Ancretas cheeks as shed run to him that day, her gown torn, her heavy breasts on full view. Shed kept her eyes downcast so he wouldnt see the Mage copper in them, but those tears on her cheeks had slain him. And gotten him captured.
Tears. Just like Ancreta, Skye was playing on his sympathies.
Lie down!
Her jaw clenched, her head jerking in a tiny, defiant movement.
He closed the distance between them, pressing his hands on the wall on either side of her head. Her chest heaved, her body shook, but she didnt plead, she didnt cower. Instead, she closed her eyes on a hopeless sweep of dark lashes. Im not what you think.
Her scent enveloped him, stirring his blood. He wanted her beneath him, yet everything inside him demanded revenge on her for enthralling him, for leading him into that hellhole. For making him feel sorry for her so that hed help herhelp heruse him.
A single tear broke free from the cage of her lashes, and she quickly brushed it away with her bare shoulder. The light caught the teardrop. Somehow that single, glistening drop on her perfect shoulder damned him.
He fought the tug of pity, that misguided need to protect her all over again.
It was a lie!
He grabbed her face, making her look at him. Open your eyes, witch. I bought this act once before. The poor little victim. I know better. Open your eyes!
To his surprise, her lashes flew up, temper heating the tears. I dont know what you want from me! How could my fear of you possibly be an act? Even if I were as soulless as you think I am, Id be afraid right now. Any woman would. I cant fight you.
Yet you defy me when you refuse to lie down.
She looked away, then back, glaring at him even as her bottom lip began to quiver. I wont help you rape me.
His stomach cramped. Never, in more than four hundred years, had he taken a woman against her will. Hed killed others for doing just that.
Dammit. She was a witch! Just like Ancreta.
No. She wasnt.
Ancreta had tortured him for the joy of it for months. Skye had never hurt him.
He released her and whirled away, slamming his fists into the stone of her cage. That was the problem. In all the time shed had him at her mercy, shed never once caused him an ounce of pain. Even after he attacked her.
If the witch in here with him were Ancreta, hed have no trouble hurting her just as shed hurt him all those months with her eyes filled with malicious glee.
But Skye wasnt Ancreta. He hated her for her lies, for making him think she was being abused so hed fuck her. He despised the way shed led the animals in her care to slaughter. Most of all, he hated the way shed made him care about her, forcing this need in him to protect her.
But as far as he remembered, shed never done anything to cause him pain. How could he get any satisfaction from hurting her in return? Even her fear was making him ill.
Yes, shed taken him against his will, but he couldnt pretend there was any similarity. When shed impaled herself on him during that ritual, hed been furious. But she hadnt hurt him. Until the power rushed through him afterward, the physical act itself had brought him only pleasure.
That wouldnt be the case if he forced himself on her. Not unless she was wet and ready. Goddess, he could do that. He wanted to do that, to stroke her and touch her until she was writhing with need beneath his hand.
That he could force on her. A need she didnt want.
Retribution.
But he couldnt shake the thought of her on that stone, chained as hed been. For whose pleasure? Biriks?
Fury burned through him, but it was a fury against her attackers, not against her.
Shit.
For all he knew, every thought in his head was being manipulated by her deft enchantment.
He stormed out of the small cell without a backward glance, locking the barred door behind him. It was past time he got himself cleared of this damned magic. And the only way to do that was with a good sexual release. Evangelines warm and willing body would have to do. But, goddess, the only one he wanted was the very one whod enchanted him in the first place.
Skye.
As Paenther climbed the stairs from the underground chambers, his fingers curled around the cold metal manacle biting into his opposite wrist. Dark fury twined with the rage that was as much a part of him as the magic that allowed him to shift. A magic chained as thoroughly by these damned shackles as hed been chained to that rock.
His fingers dug into his flesh, trying to claw beneath the metal. He wanted the damned things off! The witch claimed they were magic, which meant they could be doing things to him. Goddess knew what.
The shackles alone were stopping him from racing back to that cavern to grab Vhyper before he couldnt find him again. Vhypers soul was still in his body, Paenther was sure of it. Trapped by the evil that had already stolen too many.
If it was the last thing he did, hed get him out of that cavern and free of the dark control.
Paenther strode into the foyer to find Evangeline waiting for him, watching him with hunger in her eyes. Shed dressed for him, her ripe curves well displayed by the low-cut red dress that hugged her body and left her long, shapely legs bare. Her dark hair tumbled loose around her shoulders just the way he liked it.
Wheres Genovia? he asked.
Jags already taken her upstairs. She held out her hand to him, a slow, knowing smile lifting her mouth.
He made no move to take her hand. For the first time in decades that smile, that ripe, lush body, stirred nothing inside him.
Skyes fault. Ironically, the only way to eliminate the web of enchantment shed spun around him was to take Evangeline anyway. And he would. Dammit, he would.
In a minute.
Do you want something? He walked past her into the living room, a room as flowery and gilded as the rest of the house, and grabbed the bottle of scotch from the bar, pouring himself a drink and kicking it back in a single swallow.
I want you, the woman said softly, leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed beneath her ample breasts. She watched him with shrewd eyes, her gaze flicking down to his crotch and his decided lack of erection. But you dont want me today. Whats happened, Paenther? There was no rancor in her tone. No hurt.
Theirs was a relationship built on sex and nothing more. On physical pleasure and needs met. He liked and respected her and was always careful to bring her as much pleasure as she brought him. But what they had together ended at the bedroom door.
Ive been enthralled. Im probably still under her enchantment.
Evangeline nodded. Which is why Lyon called me. She straightened and held out her hand again. Come, warrior. Lets get you cleared of that magic. Then when youre interested again, Ill pleasure you a second time, if you like.
Paenther watched her, seeking the rush of heat that should have accompanied her words. But it was frustratingly absent. Still, she was right. The sooner he got the witchs magic out of his system, the better.
Without touching her, he led her upstairs to his bedroom, his own private sanctuary. The previous Radiant, Beatrice, had insisted on sharing her love of art with all the Ferals. Paintings of Indians on horseback covered two of his walls. But the large, rough-hewn furniture and collections of now-antique guns and arrowheads were all his.
He closed the door and watched the woman slowly strip out of the dress until she wore nothing but a pair of tiny lace panties and a bra, which left little to the imagination. Evangeline was soft and curvy, and sexy as hell. At least, hed always thought so. But as he imagined removing those scraps of lace and having his way with the womanly parts beneath, he felt nothing. His body refused to rise.
He gave a snort of disgust.
Evangeline frowned. She really has you under her spell, doesnt she?
With a growl, he closed the distance between them, turned Evangeline in his arms, pressing her back against his chest as his hands covered her full, ripe breasts. Too ripe. His hands itched to cup a pair of small breasts on a too-slender frame. Dammit.
Evangeline eased out of his arms. Close your eyes, Paenther. Maybe that will help. Close your eyes and think of her.
Evie
Do whatever it takes to get aroused, warrior. We have to clear you of her magic.
He leaned back against the door and did as she suggested, closing his eyes. The moment he did, Skyes face rose in his mind as hed first seen her. The excitement in her eyes as shed looked up from perusing the magazine and caught his gaze. He thought of the way shed looked as hed driven himself into her in the woods, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
His body rose and heated at the thought. He felt soft hands on his crotch, unzipping his pants, taking his heavy shaft into a warm palm. He arched into the touch, heat coursing through his body.
The scent of jasmine filled his senses, and he stilled, everything inside him rebelling. Jasmine, not violets.
He didnt want jasmine. He didnt wantEvangeline.
The only one who could slake this hunger was Skye.
He opened his eyes to look down at the woman preparing to take him into her mouth. Her hair was too long. Her body too lush, too ripe.
His body went soft. With a growl of disgust, he moved away from her, zipping himself back into his pants as he prowled the room like a caged and wounded animal. Dammit! He might as well still be shackled and chained to the witchs rock for all the freedom he had from her.
What do you want me to do, Paenther? Evangeline asked carefully.
I dont know. He had a beautiful, practically naked, willing woman in front of him, and direct orders from his chief to find sexual release. And he couldnt take her. He didnt want to be inside her. Not between her legs. Not in her mouth. He didnt even want her touching him.
Goddess, that witch had him screwed up.
If youre not going to let me clear you, Paenther, youll have to do it yourself. And Ill have to watch to make sure you do. We cant have the enchantment keeping you from getting cleared.
Shit.
Standing where Evangelines scent didnt overpower him, he closed his eyes and thought of Skye. Of the day he kissed her for the first time, still thinking she was human. Hed ordered Foxx back to the country store a second time, needing to see her again. He hadnt expected her to be there, but shed been waiting. And when shed slid into his arms and pressed her mouth to his
Fire erupted inside him, heating his body. As she swept her tongue into his mouth, all thought of gentleness flew from his head. He took her mouth, plundering, conquering with his tongue as he pulled her tight against him. She tasted like raindrops and smelled like violets, and all he could think of was being inside her.
Her arm slipped from around his neck and moved down to slide over that distended part of his anatomy, telling him her thoughts were as carnal and desperate as his own. He slid his palm down her thigh, then up again, lifting the skirt of her dress until he found the hem. He reached beneath, his fingers skimming her warm flesh, his hand slipping between her thighs, finding her hot, damp core.
The woman wore no undergarments.
A smile pulled at his mouth as he kissed her hard and slid a single, shaking finger deep inside her tight wet sheath.
Paenther opened his eyes and strode to the bathroom, leaving the door open as he pulled his throbbing erection out of his pants and began pumping himself off over the sink. His mind remained on Skye.
Foxx had interrupted them, or he might have taken her right there. Right then. Hed been so hard for her. And shed been so ready.
Damn the witch!
In his mind he saw her again as shed ridden him on the stone that first time, fingering herself as hed directed her to.
Goddess, shed been glorious as the passion had begun to ride her, as the cries had escaped that slender throat.
And when shed come
His body tightened as the memory of her orgasm brought on his own. With a low groan, he pumped his seed into the sink, the release satisfying in only the most basic way. Grabbing a towel, he cleaned himself off, then zipped up his pants as he glanced at Evangeline watching him from the doorway, heat in her eyes.
No matching heat rose in his body. A flare of panic ran beneath his breastbone. Hed cleared himself of the magic. It should be gone!
Reaching for Evangeline, he pulled her into his arms and released her just as quickly, wanting her even less than he had before. Skyes slender body rose in his mind, her scent the only one he craved.
Shit! He stormed past Evangeline, into the bedroom, the ever-present rage boiling his blood.
Behind him, a feminine snort of disbelief. Shes enchanted you, all right, just not with magic. Youre into her for real, warrior.
Paenther swung to face his scantily clad companion. I have not fallen for a witch!
Maybe not emotionally, but physically, you want her bad. Bad enough that no one else will do.
Paenther felt the rush of feral anger, his teeth and claws elongating, his mind spoiling for a fight. One of his brothers was about to get bloody.
Ease down, warrior, Evangeline said without fear. Itll go away, Paenther. Youre not the first male to want a female you shouldnt have. You wont be the last. Sooner or later, youll get over her.
Paenther clenched his jaw hard and nodded. Sooner, not later. He pulled himself back, retracting his fangs and claws. The best way to end this unholy infatuation was to avoid the witch altogether. The only reason hed brought her back here was to interrogate her and find out what she knew. Once theyd done that, there was nothing to keep them from destroying her. Then he knew hed get over her.
Striding back into the bathroom, he shut the door, stripped, and took a hot shower, washing the smell of the caverns and the witch off his skin. As he dried himself, he made his decision. Hed give her into Roars keeping. Let his chief decide what to do with her. Because, enchanted or not, he obviously wasnt thinking clearly when it came to this particular witch. And there was too much at stake for him to make any more errors.
Paenther dressed quickly, in a clean pair of black leathers and a black silk shirt, buckling his knife belt around his waist.
The witch was no longer his concern.
If only, for one damned minute, he could stop wanting her.
CHAPTER 9
Skye stood within her prison cell deep below Feral House, once more dressed, her back against the wall. Her body quaked as she struggled for breath, fearing what Paenther would do when he returned, dreading Biriks retribution. How many times had Birik told her if she ever escaped him, hed make her long to returnor long to die?
If only she could escape them both. But where would she go?
Home. Shed go home.
Tears heated her eyes as the longing for her mother nearly overwhelmed her. But she didnt know how to find her. Her world had been so contained, so secure, she had no frame of reference within the human world to lead her back there. No idea what human town theyd lived near, or even what state. No way to contact the people shed loved.
And no way to know if they, too, had lost their souls and were now part of Inirs army.
She brushed at the tear that rolled down her cheek. It didnt matter because shed never be free. Escape was impossible. The Feral Warriors would never let her go. She wasnt sure theyd even let her live once shed told them what she knew about Birik and the Daemons.
The memory of what shed witnessed doubled her over until she thought she would be sick again. The terror of those poor people still pulsed through her blood, their screams ringing forever in her head. The foul smell of the Daemon himself felt permanently burned into her nose.
She pressed the back of her fist against her mouth. All the more reason she could never let Birik catch her again. He would only try to use her power to free more of those things. Even if he didnt get Paenther, too, hed search for another way until he succeeded in freeing more.
And shed die before she helped him set loose another of those monsters.
Slowly, she sank to the floor, cold from the bleakness of the future before her. Her old life was over. And she had none to replace it. She could never go back. Yet trapped in the Ferals prison, there was no way to go forward. Was this it, then?
She pressed her head back against the wall, tears falling freely as Paenthers words replayed in her head. Whether we choose to let evil live, or we fight to destroy it, defines our lives. Choose, Skye.
She snorted softly. She had no choices.
But shed made one, hadnt she? Shed freed Paenther and accidentally removed herself from Biriks control in the process. And it had been the right choice, no matter what happened to her.
When the Ferals came to interrogate her, shed tell them everything she knew. Maybe, in some small way, she could help them defeat Birik and his Daemons. Maybe in some small way she could make up for all the suffering shed caused with her gift.
Then, if they still felt they had to destroy her, so be it. What was one life when so many would die, when so many creatures had already died, because of her?
With a hard shudder, she pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms tight around them.
So be it.
But, dear Mother, I dont want to die.
As Paenther descended the stairs with Evangeline, Lyon opened the front door to the Shaman. To all appearances, the man who stepped into Feral House was little more than a boy, a fifteen-year-old dressed in costumea ruffled white shirt and black breeches from a bygone era. He nodded to Lyon, then looked up to meet Paenthers gaze, his eyes ancient in his youthful face.
The Shaman gave a brief nod. Warrior.
Shaman. A growl rumbled in Paenthers throat. Get me out of these shackles.
Ill do what I can.
When he reached the foyer, Paenther motioned the Shaman into the living room. Like every room in Feral House, the walls were covered in original oil paintings, most dating from the midnineteenth century.
While Paenther took a seat on one of the deeply cushioned chairs, the Shaman pulled up a footstool and took hold of one of Paenthers arms, pressing his slender fingers around the manacle. Closing his eyes, he began to chant, murmuring words under his breath from a language Paenther had heard him use before, one he himself didnt know. Minute after minute passed, long, tense minutes where Paenther forgot to breathe, his mind and body concentrating so hard on willing the Shamans magic to work.
When the Shaman opened his eyes and pressed his lips together unhappily, Paenther wanted to yell his fury.
The Shaman shook his head. Im sorry. Its strong, strong magic, warrior. Im going to have to do more research to see if I can find another way.
Paenther closed his eyes, wrestling down the fury inflamed by his frustration. He needed to be able to shift! As long as he wore these shackles, he remained a prisoner to the Mage.
He speared the Shaman with his gaze. The witch is in the prison. Lyon wants you to bind her magic.
A flash of venom tightened the Shamans mouth as he nodded. Like his own, the Shamans fate had long ago been decreed by a Mage attack. Hed been a youth at the time, and the attack had ended his growth into manhood. Though he was one of the oldest Therians alive, he looked like a young teen and always would.
Paenther rose and led the smaller man into the foyer, where he found Lyon waiting, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression grim as he eyed the manacles still on Paenthers wrists.
No luck. Paenthers tone was clipped.
Bring the witch to the war room as soon as the Shamans bound her.
Paenther nodded. Then, Roar? She needs to be someone elses concern. Shes still got her claws in me.
Lyon looked at him sharply. I thought you got yourself cleared.
I did. Thats why I know someone else has to see to her after this.
Lyon eyed him thoughtfully, then nodded.
Paenther led the Shaman down the long flight of stairs and through the underground chambers. When they reached the prison cell, Skye rose with that fluid grace of hers and faced him, her back straight, her chin raised. In her eyes he saw a mix of courage and hopelessness, as if she expected the worst but was prepared to face it all the same.
That errant tug she had on him had him wanting to reach out to her, to reassure her nothing bad was going to happen to her. But he couldnt reassure her even if he wanted to. Mage witches didnt live long in Feral House. For good reason.
Shes not tied. The Shaman stepped back. Im not going near her unless shes tied.
Skye pressed her lips together and turned her head. Paenther opened the cell and grabbed one of the lengths of rope hed originally intended to stake her out with. Skye put her hands behind her back, allowing him to tie her without effort.
As he looped the rope around her wrists, his body began to react to her nearness as it always did, rising, hardening as if he hadnt just jerked himself off. The cat in him wanted to rub its cheek against her soft hair, to rub his body against her softer curves. His hands itched to slide over the parts of her only his eyes had ever touched.