As Lyon closed the door behind him, Kara groaned, mortified all over again. What must he think of her? She pressed the heels of her hands against her closed eyes, easing the tired ache. Lyon was right. She needed sleep.
Pulling her nightgown out of her suitcase, her gaze was pulled to one of the paintings on the wall. An African lion with his head thrown back in full roar, stood with one massive paw pinning a disembodied human head to the ground. Painted on the cheek of the male head was a shiny copper circle. And in his eyes, the brightness of life and disdain.
With a small shiver, Kara stripped out of her clothes and pulled on her nightgown, then walked to the window and peered between the heavy drapes, looking out over the woods that pressed in from all sides. The sky was beginning to lighten now. The sun would be up soon. A new day.
Her first without her mom.
Sadness rolled over her, triggering the burn of tears. Kara swiped away a lone drop that slid down her cheek and pressed her palm to the cool glass.
Why had she come? She should have refused. But with a despondent sigh, she knew it wouldn't have mattered. Lyon would have knocked her out and brought her anyway. He'd come for her for a reason. And until he was through with her, she knew with total conviction, he wouldn't let her go.
CHAPTER 4
"Did you find her?" Paenther asked, stepping back for Lyon to enter even as he extended his hand in greeting. As their forearms met, the black-eyed warrior flicked the wall switch to his bedroom, squinting against the sudden light, telling Lyon in no uncertain terms he'd woken the man from a sound sleep. If the blinking eyes hadn't told him that, the barely controlled rage permeating the room would have. The sharp edges of a rage that had been burned into the shifter's soul centuries ago and which he kept under control only by dint of his granite will.
"She's here."
"Thank the goddess." Paenther released him to rake a hand through his straight black hair, sending it swinging down to brush his shoulders. One lock fell forward, tangling with the harsh feral marks that cut across his left eye. "How soon can we get her ascended?"
Lyon shook his head. "She was raised by humans."
"She's had no preparation?"
"None. It's going to take time."
"Shit. We're going to play hell getting the draden swarms back under control if this goes on much longer. We need to be able to shift, Roar."
"What about Foxx and the Daemon blade?" The moment Lyon had sensed Kara's whereabouts, he'd left to track her down, leaving Paenther, his second-in-command, to deal with Foxx. "Did you get to the bottom of it?"
Paenther shook his head. "One minute he swears he didn't go into the vault, and the next he says he only wanted to look at the Daemon blade and accidentally got it mixed up with the ceremonial blade. Then he's back to swearing he didn't take it out of the vault at all. I don't think he did it intentionally. I think the problem is the lack of radiance. He's young, Roar. Those first couple of years after you're marked are a bitch as it is. He's going to be the first to suffer."
"Keep an eye on him. On all of them. We can't afford any more mistakes like that one."
"Agreed."
Lyon left to find some sleep, but as he started down the long second-floor hall toward the stairs that would lead to the third floor and his room, a trill of feminine laughter drifted to him from the far end. Zaphene's laughter. Foxx's girlfriend of what was it now? Five months? Six? Zaphene seemed to be spending more nights in Feral House than whichever Therian enclave she now called home. Though he was beginning to think that arrangement might turn permanent. The young Foxx had been exhibiting all the signs of a man foolish with love.
But as the pair walked into the light of an electric sconce, Lyon saw the sultry redhead was not with Foxx, but Vhyper. Though they weren't touching one another, there was something about the look of them together that made him wonder if Foxx's dreams were about to come to a crashing end.
"Did you find our Radiant?" Vhyper asked, as they met at the stairs.
Lyon nodded. "I did."
A grin split Vhyper's face. "Good. That's good."
Lyon's gaze flicked between the couple. "You're up early. What are you two up to?"
"Coffee. I couldn't sleep."
"Where's Foxx?"
Vhyper shrugged. "Still licking his wounds from the thrashing Paenther gave him last night." He grabbed Zaphene and pulled her tight against him as she gave a sultry laugh. "I'm keeping his woman entertained until he snaps out of it." Vhyper waggled his brows. "The cub better get out of his sulk soon, or he may need to find himself a new woman."
Lyon assumed Vhyper was pulling a major flirt, but there was something in his eyes that set off Lyon's instinct for trouble. He gave a silent groan. The last thing he needed right now was to have to play referee in a battle over a woman.
Zaphene's cool laughter grated on Lyon's ears as she slipped out of Vhyper's hold and stepped up to him. Her warm fingers trailed down his forearm until she gripped his hand. "If I'm back to shopping for a man, maybe I'll have to start at the top this time."
Lyon pulled his hand from her grasp. "I'm not for sale." He tossed Vhyper a hard look. "Do me a favor and keep your hands to yourself until things get back to normal around here. Foxx doesn't need this right now. None of us does" The walls and floor started spinning.
"Easy, Roar.".
Lyon felt himself being eased down until he was sitting on the top step of the stairs.
Zaphene laughed. "I didn't mean to fluster you, Warrior."
"You didn't" Goddess, but he was dizzy.
"It's the lack of radiance." Vhyper squeezed his shoulder. "Get some sleep, Chief. You'll feel better in the morning."
As Lyon watched Vhyper and Zaphene descend the stairs, his head slowly cleared. Apparently Foxx wasn't the only one suffering from the lack of radiance. Dammit to hell. They had to get Kara ascended, and fast.
He pushed himself to his feet and walked the few steps to the upper stair. As he reached for the rail, his gaze caught on Kara's door. He imagined her sprawled in sensuous abandon across the gold satin sheets of that big bed, her unbound hair splayed like fingers of silk, her creamy skin beckoning.
Clenching his jaw, he forced his feet onto the steps, climbing with slow deliberation. He returned to his room, stripped, and fell back onto his bed, flinging his forearm over his eyes as if he could erase the image of Kara from his mind. His senses, opened to her in order to find her, had become drugged by her quiet beauty and aching vulnerability. But it was over. She was home. It should be a simple matter to turn off his interest in a woman he'd known fewer than a dozen hours.
A simple matter.
Just as soon as he figured out how to get her out of his blood.
Kara woke to find gray daylight seeping into the room, framing the dark drapes in a colorless glow as rain pattered on the windows. She levered herself up from the rumpled sheets and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face as she looked at the cavernous room.
It was real. The whole accompanying-an-immortal-to-his-castle thing really should have been a dream.
And her mom Kara closed her eyes, bracing for the grief to steamroll her. But the pain didn't come. Only a dull ache, a heavy sadness. Blinking, she opened her eyes again, suddenly glad for Lyon's intervention. This she could handle.
Her thoughts clung to her mother, to the woman she'd grown up with, strong and healthy, and full of love.
Had she known Kara wasn't human? Kara's brows lowered as thoughts cascaded through her mind, one after another, bringing a near certainty that she had. Her mom's insistence that she never go near a doctor, nor ever play sports, had probably been intended to keep anyone from learning how quickly she healed. And the reason she'd begged Kara to stay in Spearsville when she finished high school? She'd always believed her mom was afraid she'd miss her too much. Now she wondered if her mother hadn't known there were dangers waiting for her if she wandered too far.
All these years, it seemed, she'd protected Kara's secret. Even from Kara herself. For twenty-seven years, she'd thought she'd known who she was. For twenty-six and a half of those years, she'd been perfectly happy. Until three months ago when she'd suddenly become restless and dissatisfied with her life. Until the mark appeared on her breast, she realized. Her restlessness had almost certainly begun when she'd become the Radiant.
Tossing back the sheet, Kara climbed out of bed. As her bare feet hit the plush rug, she stopped, a sudden, inexplicable feeling of dread welling up to tighten her throat. Why? Her gaze darted around the room. With a shiver of fear, she dropped to her knees and looked under the bed, but there was no one there. By the time she stood again, the sharp dread had dulled to little more than a faint disquiet.
Weird. Was there more to this house than she could see? Was there a ghost or some other invisible creature they'd yet to tell her about lurking in the shadows? The thought sent goose bumps skating over her skin and had her starting for the door.
Lyon would know. He could tell her if there was anything to be afraid of. He'd keep her safe.
The thought had her pulling up. Whoa. How had this happened? How, in a matter of hours, had Lyon gone from being a frightening stranger to her security blanket?
Was he really? Or was he merely playing with her emotions again, this time from a distance?
She refused to race out of the room like a scared little girl letting her imagination run away with her. Not that her current situation didn't warrant some trepidation, but feeling ill at ease about the unknown didn't mean there was some evil presence breathing down her neck.
For heaven's sake, she was still in her nightie. And it had to be late. She looked around for a clock. Almost five o'clock. In the evening, she supposed. She'd slept all day.
Kara grabbed the toiletries from her suitcase and headed for the private bathroom. But despite telling herself there was nothing to be afraid of, the feeling of disquiet wouldn't go away. She raced through her shower in record time chanting one word over and over and over.
Lyon.
Fifteen minutes later, Kara started down the stairs, her eyes darting and watchful as she followed the sound of male voices somewhere in the house. All through her shower, and since, the unnatural dread had ebbed and flowed, rising to chill her skin and make her pulse race, then falling again. She hoped she was just being paranoid, prayed that when she found Lyon and asked if there was any reason she should feel spooked, he'd tell her no, of course not. Then he'd introduce her to the rest of the Feral Warriors, men as nice and charming as Tighe, and give her the full tour of the house, which would include a swimming pool or gazebo, or something equally luxury-mansionish, and she'd laugh at her completely unfounded misgivings.
She really hoped that was what happened, because right this moment she wanted to bolt from the house and not stop running until she crossed the Mississippi.
Her nose caught a whiff of roast pork as she stepped onto the painted floor of the foyer, making her empty stomach growl in complaint. She'd never had a chance to eat that soup last night or anything since. Her trepidation took a sudden backseat to hunger. Maybe Lyon was in the kitchen. And if not? She'd grab something to eat before she continued her search.
The mouthwatering aroma seemed to be coming from the same direction as the voices, down a long, wide hall lined with more paintings. The voices became clearer as she walked.
"I can beat you, dog."
"Don't call me dog ."
"Tonight at midnight. Outside the wards. No knives."
The second man grunted. "Deal."
"Morons," said a third voice Kara thought she recognized as Tighe's. "If they swarm, you're both dead."
Kara eased into the doorway of a spacious, window-lined room. Outside, the budding trees dripped with rain against a gray sky, darkening with dusk. Inside, large blue-and-gold birds covered the wallpaper in a dizzying explosion of color lit by a pair of chandeliers half the size of the one in the foyer, yet no less grand. At a table that looked like it might have been stolen from the court of one of the old French kings, sat four huge men. They ate and talked with one another as naturally and casually as if they sat in a rustic kitchen instead of a painfully formal dining room.
"Let 'em swarm," the first man said. She could see him, now, sitting facing the doorway, a shaggy thatch of red hair framing a youthful, freckled face. "Wulfe and I are going hunting, aren't we, my man?"
"I'm not your man."
The red-haired one looked up and saw her, then rose to his feet, prompting the others to do the same. Kara felt her cheeks grow warm. The only one she recognized was Tighe, who was even now slipping on a pair of sunglasses.
He motioned to her with a friendly grin. "Come join us, Kara."
Four pairs of eyes pinned her, watching her with varying degrees of interest and curiosity, making her feel ill at ease in a way that was utterly foreign to her. At home, she was never self-conscious, but. there had never been a reason to be. Everyone knew her and had since she was a baby. She was just Kara. Miss MacAllister to her preschoolers.
But she wasn't Miss MacAllister anymore. She was the chosen one. And what exactly did that mean? How did they expect her to act? Immortal VIP wasn't a role she'd ever imagined for herself. But she did know how to be Kara MacAllister, and she supposed that would have to be enough for now.
Kara took a deep breath and forced her feet to cross to the table where the men stood waiting for her. Watching her. Four of the most physically imposing men she'd ever seen other than Lyon.
Reaching them, she thrust out her hand to the nearest man, the biggest of the bunch. As she looked up into his face, she caught her breath in a small, startled gasp. She had to force herself not to jerk back at the scars that crisscrossed his hard, rugged face. Had he been in an accident? A bad one, by the looks of his nose, which had to have been broken at least half a dozen times.
The scowl on his mouth was only partly due to the scar tugging his lip downward, and she realized she was staring. And still standing with her empty hand outstretched.
"I I'm sorry." Her hand dropped self-consciously as her gaze rose to his. In his eyes she saw not so much anger as a hardness. And maybe a hint of resignation. "I'm Kara. Kara MacAllister."
Something flickered in his gaze, softening the harsh lines of that badly scarred face. Easing, if only slightly, that scowl. He lifted a hand the size of a dinner plate to the spot hers had been moments before.
"I'm Wulfe."
Kara took the proffered olive branch without hesitation and managed to smile at him. "Hi, Wulfe."
His huge palm closed around hers. "At your service, Radiant." To her surprise, his other hand landed softly on her shoulder, and he started to. close the distance between them as if he meant to hug her.
Kara stiffened involuntarily. Wulfe's scowl returned full force as he jerked back and turned away. She opened her mouth, uncertain what to say to apologize, but an arm around her shoulders startled her into silence.
"Welcome, Radiant." She looked up into the face of the redhead. He was definitely younger than the others, his eyes friendly. "I'm Foxx." He pulled her against his side and slid his hand down her arm.
Were they all coming on to her? Or were they just way too touchy-feely?
She didn't move, couldn't move without risking offending him, too. Finally, he released her and stepped away. All she wanted to do was step back and establish a little personal space, but there were still two men crowding around her.
Tighe stroked her hair gently, then stepped back, as if sensing her keen discomfort. His dimpled smile helped to calm her. "How'd you sleep?"
"Hi, Tighe. I slept fine."
"I'm glad. You hungry?"
She felt a true smile lift her lips and make it all the way to her eyes.
"Starved." She'd almost forgotten the fourth man until he moved beside Tighe. He was as tall as the others, but without the heavy musculature.
He kept his hands clasped behind his back as he smiled at her. His face was long and strong-boned, his brown eyes alight with curiosity beneath a pair of dark, sharply winged brows. Unlike the others, he made no move to touch her, and she relaxed further.
"I'm Hawke, Radiant."
Hawke was a cool name. So was Kara blinked. Wulfe. And Foxx. And Lyon . Her gaze flying from one man to the next. "You're all named after animals."
Hawke started to say something, but Tighe coughed, and the man went quiet. "Nicknames, Kara. Someone once said we had the manners of a bunch of wild animals, so we decided to call ourselves by their names."
Kara cocked her head, "Then why are you just Tighe?"
He grinned. "Tiger."
Kara smiled, but the fear that had ridden her since she woke tightened her throat. She sensed nothing amiss. The men were all friendly enough, in their way, yet the feeling she was in danger persisted, as did the certainty that only one man could keep her safe.
"Where's Lyon?"
"You won't find him here." Foxx started back around to the seat she'd seen him in when she entered. "Our chief never eats with his foot soldiers."
"Lyon keeps to himself." Tighe pulled out the chair he'd been sitting in for her, moving his plate down a space to seat her between Foxx and himself. He smiled at her with those incongruous sunglasses, a flirtatious smile that should have had her pulse racing. "Have a seat, pretty girl. When you're through eating, I'll take you to him. Unless I can convince you to stay with me." His grin turned boyish, carving dimples into his cheeks.
Kara found herself smiling back. She hesitated only a moment before she nodded and sat. Tighe grabbed a clean plate from a stack in the middle of the table and handed it to her.
"We have pork medallions, ham steaks, and roast beef. What are you in the mood for?"
Kara looked at the three platters. The only food on the table. "It's all meat."
The men stilled, an odd tension rippling through the air of the room.
Kara wished she could crawl under the table. "It looks wonderful." She felt like she'd made a terrible gaffe. They'd offered her a king's feast, and she'd had to comment.
"I can have Pink make you something else," Tighe said.
"No, this is fine. I didn't mean to imply I wasn't complaining. I like meat."
As she reached for the serving fork on the nearest platter, Foxx leaned toward her, dipping his head until his face was only inches from her own.
"So, where have you been all my life?"
Kara bit her tongue to keep from laughing. All his life? He couldn't be more than twenty. But at the same time, she felt her cheeks heat from the obvious come-on.
"Have some mercy on her, Foxx." Hawke shook his head, his expression sympathetic. "Why don't you tell us something about yourself, Kara?"
But Foxx wasn't through toying with her. He looped his arm around her shoulders and tilted his head toward her, conspiratorially. "Be careful of Hawke, Radiant. Once he starts asking questions, he never stops. You'll be crying for mercy within the hour."
Hawke's smile was bland. "Better that than having her crying from boredom, kit."
Foxx's smile turned wicked. "Give me an hour with any woman, and she'll be crying, all right. Crying for more."
Kara's cheeks went from warm to hot, her body stiffening. She needed space. She wanted Lyon.
"Cool it, Foxx," Tighe said sharply. "Show a little respect. She's not used to us, yet."
Foxx made a sound deep in his throat that almost sounded like an animal's growl, but his arm slipped from around her shoulders.
Tighe gave her shoulder a quick, gentle nudge with his. "Eat, Kara. You've got to be hungry."
"I yes. I am. Thanks."
"She can answer your questions later, Hawke,".
Finally, they began to talk around her, the discussion turning to knives and how far they could throw different kinds of blades. At the rabid one-upmanship, so typical of any Friday night bar party in Spearsville, Kara began to relax enough to be able to eat, and even taste the food, which was truly delicious.
Beside her, both Tighe's and Foxx's heads rose in unison. When she lifted her own, she saw three people walking in the door, two more of the large men and an auburn-haired woman who looked like she'd stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine, her slinky, emerald green dress slit nearly to the top of her thigh. In her black stilettos, she carried herself with a seductive grace that left Kara feeling like the country bumpkin she probably was. She wished she'd dressed in something nicer than her khakis and cotton sweater. She wished she had something nicer.
"Any food left?" one of the men said. "Or did you animals wolf it all down?" The man was bald in a sexy-pirate kind of way, though he was dressed more like a lean, muscular biker. A belt hung low on his waist, carrying an impressive, if somewhat disturbing, collection of knives. His black leather vest hung open, revealing a chest as devoid of hair as his head and a short row of scars on his neck that looked oddly familiar. Like the mark on her breast, she realized. Did they all have them?
The man on the other side of the woman had a seriously sinister look to him with his mustache, goatee, and pale, pale eyes. Eyes as cold as they were curious. She realized the newcomers were eyeing her with as much curiosity as she was them. As they approached the table, the men around her rose.
Kara was suddenly uncertain what to do. What was the proper protocol? Should she stand, too? Or was that something only the men did? Her mother had taught her basic table manners, but considering the fanciest restaurant she'd ever eaten at was Bill Barton's Steakhouse, this was way out of her realm of experience.
Tighe exchanged greetings with the bald man in the same way she'd seen him do with Lyon. Almost a handshake, but more, While their free hands clasped the other's shoulder. When they separated, Tighe took the woman in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. But all he exchanged was a glance and a brief nod of the head with the scary-looking man.
To Kara's bemusement, every one of the men went through the same ritual, greeting each in exactly the same way Tighe had. Except for Foxx, who took the woman aside and gave her a kiss befitting long-lost lovers.
Were these three visitors, or just the stragglers coming in to dinner late? Did they really do this all the time?
Foxx released the woman, and Kara felt the woman's cool, assessing gaze turn to her. Kara rose, disliking the feeling of everyone towering over her.
"Could this be our new Radiant?" the bald man asked, releasing Wulfe to turn to her, His gaze was sharp and assessing.
"Kara, Vhyper. Vhyper, Kara," Tighe said with a wave of his hand. "Sit, Kara. Don't make her quit eating, Vhype. The poor woman's starving."
But Kara stayed where she was. She'd sit when the rest of them sat.
Vhyper started around the table, but Tighe called him off.
"You can all greet her properly later. She wasn't raised Therian and isn't used to our physicality." Tighe touched her shoulder briefly, drawing her attention to the other man. "This is Kougar and Zaphene, who is soon to be Foxx's mate. His wife."
Kara swallowed, then nodded and smiled, encompassing the newcomers in a single, quick gaze. "It's nice to meet you."
"Charmed," Zaphene murmured, but something in her tone made Kara feel like the woman was laughing at her.
If Kara could have slunk away without being noticed, she would have.
Tighe urged Kara back in her chair. As soon as she sat, the others took their seats. Foxx grabbed his plate from across the table and placed it beside Zaphene as the three newcomers took seats at the far end of the table.
Kara took a bite, then felt Zaphene's gaze on her and began to grow even more uncomfortable than before. The woman's eyes, filled with an amused pity, stripped her of her quickly waning supply of confidence. She didn't know the first thing about this culture or this world. With growing mortification, she wondered how many mistakes she'd already made without knowing it.
Her discomfort grew until her fork slipped from her fingers with a clatter, jerking all gazes her way. Her cheeks flooded with heat as unwanted tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She just wanted to go home.
"Oops," she murmured, and picked up her glass of water as casually as she could manage, desperately trying to ignore the woman at the other end of the table with her too-sharp eyes.
"Can I get you anything else?" a pleasant, though oddly pitched feminine voice said behind her.
Beside her, Tighe groaned. "Pink"
Kara glanced over her shoulder and froze, her heart shooting into her throat. The woman was the creature was a bird! She was the size of a person, but her legswere those of a flamingo, and her human-looking hands and face were covered in pink feathers. Feathers instead of skin .
Her glass slipped from her numb fingers and shattered on the plate in a spray of water that soaked her shirt.
Kara jumped up and backed away from the mess and the bird her entire body shaking, her scalp tingling as if the hair on her head were trying to stand on end.
"Kara." Tighe said.
"I'm sorry," she murmured at the stricken look on the creature's face.
The sound of Zaphene's low laughter only sealed her humiliation.
"Kara, I'm sorry. I should have"
As Tighe started to stand, she shoved her palms toward him. "Don't." To her mortification, she felt tears starting to leak from her eyes. "I'm fine. Excuse me."
She half walked, half ran from the room. Immortals. She'd assumed that meant humans or humanlike. The woman was a bird .
And the others.
Her hand clutched, at the wall as she doubled over for one long, horrified moment. Lyon, Kougar, Foxx. Nicknames ?
She pushed away and stumbled down the hall, fearing she was going to be sick..
Lyon. Where was Lyon?
The pounding of her pulse in her ears drove her forward. She had to find him. The sound of some kind of sports game on television caught her ear, and she ran toward it. She rounded the corner to find a large, dark-paneled rec room filled with leather furniture and the biggest television she'd ever seen.
Another of the huge warriors sat on the sofa, one arm across his knees, the other casually curling a metal dumbbell with weights the size of bowling balls.
The man saw her, set down the weight, and rose.
"I'm looking for Lyon."
"Are you, now?" The man was dressed in army fatigues, his hair an unstyled shaggy brown, his lower face covered in a two-day growth of beard stubble. His eyes were hard as he came too close, crowding her.
Kara stepped back, knocking against the wall behind her.
"Are you our new Radiant, then?" he growled.
A desperate lump formed in her throat as she nodded jerkily. "I need to find Lyon."
The hint of curiosity in the man's eyes transformed to something unpleasant, and he pressed his fists against the wall on either side of her, towering over her.
"What do you want with Lyon?" He leaned forward, nearly touching her cheek with his nose, then made a low, animal sound in his throat. "I can smell him on you."
She couldn't move, caught between the wall at her back, the table at her side, and the man himself. "He's not on me. I haven't even seen him since I got up."
"He's marked you. Which was foolish of him since there's been no Pairing. But if he wants to play that game, so can I." He pushed his pelvis against her hip, pinning her to the wall as he rubbed himself hard.
Kara choked, slamming her hands against his chest. "Stop it! Get away from me!"
And suddenly he was gone, jerked backward by yet another stranger, a furious black-haired man with skin the color of a Native American and a scar across one eye that looked exactly like the marks on her breast. Cold fury filled his black eyes.
Her heart froze. The dread she'd been fighting since she woke leaped, sending her into a spiraling panic.
But the black-haired warrior turned that heated gaze on her attacker. "Jag, you go too far ."
With a snarl, Jag swung at the other man, raking his fingernails across the man's face. No, not fingernails. Claws . Huge, razor-sharp cat's claws.
Kara shrieked, then clapped her hand against her mouth as ribbons of blood bloomed on her rescuer's face. A face that, even as she watched, transformed into something out of a horror flick. Black eyes shifting, the irises expanding until no white showed, changing to the golden eyes of a jungle cat. His teeth grew, both canines and incisors elongating, sharpening to daggers.