Ecstasy Untamed

Page 4

As she hesitated, he swung out of the car, shut his own door, and started up the brick walk to the wide front stoop alone. With a sigh, Faith let herself out of the car, glancing at Maxim's retreating back with a stab of uncertainty. Was he just preoccupied? Certainly that would be understandable under the circumstances. Or was he embarrassed by her? Heaven knew she wasn't of his class. Not even close.
As her gaze tracked farther, she caught sight of a man standing in the open doorway, a man as tall or taller than Maxim though perhaps not quite as broad through the chest and shoulders. Sunlight struck short brown hair that curled just a little at the edges, weaving into it fine threads of gold that set off a handsome face with sharply arched brows over dark eyes.
As Maxim reached the steps to the front porch, the man stepped forward and thrust out his hand - too far, nearly to Maxim's jacket button.
"I'm Hawke. Welcome to Feral House."
Another Feral Warrior. But she'd suspected as much.
Maxim looked down his nose at the proffered hand, making no move to take it.
"Do you speak English?" The Feral's tone remained even though it had lost that layer of warmth.
"I do."
"Grasp my forearm, then, just below my elbow. It's the way we greet one another."
Maxim hesitated, then did as the Feral directed, looking somehow awkward as he did so. As they grasped one another's forearms, Maxim lifted his chin. "I wish to confer with the Chief of the Feral Warriors."
Hawke gazed at him calmly, his expression cooling more, just as Vhyper's had.
Faith's heart sank at Maxim's attitude. He was acting like a prince forced to consort with peasants. She wanted to like and respect this man whom fate seemed to have chosen for her. But she was finding it increasingly hard to do so.
Hawke lifted one arched brow. "Lyon is in the foyer." As Maxim brushed past him, Hawke shook his head, then descended the steps and started toward the vehicle. His gaze swept over her, moving to where Vhyper pulled Maxim's suitcases out of the Hummer, then back to her again. The friendliness returned to his expression, along with a hint of curiosity. Her blue-tipped hair tended to bring that out in people.
She smiled at him as Maxim had not.
The appealing man returned the smile slowly. His eyes lit first, crinkling at the edges before his mouth spread. It was a small smile, a close-mouthed smile, but its effect on her was devastating. A fluttering arose in her stomach like a whirl of dove's wings. As he drew nearer, her face . . . her entire body . . . began to flush with a heat that had her wishing she could peel off her sweater. With a face that was perhaps a bit too long and a nose that was a tad too pronounced, he wasn't movie-star handsome. But his eyes, a beautiful brown shot through with flecks of gold, were kind, his mouth beautifully sculpted. And the overall effect was breathtaking.
Dismay seized her heart, a deep disappointment that she felt no such physical attraction to the man fate had chosen for her. But physical attraction wasn't everything. Deep inside, that pull remained as strong as before - the certain knowledge that she belonged to Maxim.
Hawke stared at the smiling girl, his mind at once racing and blank, his pulse thrumming a fast, erratic beat. She was a little odd-looking, with dark hair painted bright blue at the ends and one ear entirely enclosed in earrings, yet she was . . . extraordinary. That smile . . . Goddess, that smile could slay an army, knocking them all to their knees. Though of average height, her features were small and pert, giving her beauty a pixieish charm. Beautiful. And clearly too young.
He told himself to keep his gaze on her face, but his eyes had a mind of their own. He couldn't help noticing that her thin sweater, the same blue as the ends of her hair, clung to small, sweet curves, and that the sleeves half covered her hands. On slender legs she wore holey jeans. On her feet, badly worn sneakers.
Slowly, he forced his gaze back to her face, to the smile that sent his pulse into a wild flight all over again, then up to eyes that held an odd mixture of awareness, laughter, and shadows. And a wisdom that had him reassessing her age. Perhaps she wasn't as young as she looked.
Relief had his smile widening. "Hi."
"Hello." Her eyes began to sparkle, her voice light and musical with a slight European lilt, as enchanting as her smile.
He passed close to her as he tore his gaze away and went to help Vhyper with the luggage, close enough to catch a whiff of soft female and raspberry sweetness.
She followed. "I'm sorry," she said as Hawke reached in and pulled out a huge suitcase. Vhyper already had four of them sitting on the pavement. "I think he's used to servants."
"We'll break him of that quickly enough," Vhyper muttered darkly.
Hawke grunted. Maxim was a fool if he thought they'd put up with that kind of attitude. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism that would ease once he felt like he was one of them. They could only hope.
Vhyper grabbed three of the huge pieces of luggage and started toward the house. The woman watched him go, her smile gone, her brows dipped in worry.
Hawke felt the need to ease her mind. "Don't worry about Vhyper. Or Maxim, for that matter. Newly marked Ferals are rarely at their best. While their bodies come to terms with the animal spirit, they tend to be unpredictable, aggressive, quick-tempered, you name it."
The woman turned to him, wrinkling her nose.
Adorable.
"For how long?"
"The worst of it will pass when he's brought into his animal - his first shift. But for some, it takes several years."
She sighed. "Wonderful."
He grinned at her. "I'm Hawke."
Her expression shifted with delightful speed, awe lacing her gaze and her words. "You're the hawk shifter."
"I am. And who might you be?"
"I'm Faith. I'm with Maxim, though I'm not sure that's something I want to admit at the moment."
With Maxim. He didn't like the sound of that. "His daughter?" he asked hopefully.
She laughed. "I was born in 1899. I just try to look like a teenager."
Not too young at all. Which would be beside the point if she was truly with Maxim. Ferals never, ever poached another Feral's female.
He held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Faith."
Her eyes sparkled as she slid her slender hand into his on a rush of soft pleasure. "It's nice to meet you, too."
Hawke found himself suddenly torn between modern manners, which dictated he simply shake her hand, and a surprising desire to raise her knuckles to his lips in the old way. The desire to inhale the scent of her skin, to feel her flesh beneath his lips, was dismayingly powerful. But until he knew which way the wind blew between her and Maxim, he'd be wise to err on the side of caution.
With a twinge of regret, he shook her delicate hand, then released her and turned to pull out another of the suitcases. "Is there a reason you enjoy looking like a teen?" He glanced back to find her brown eyes sparkling like dark gems.
"It's either piercings or tats, or I'd look like a poser." She shrugged a delicate shoulder. "The tats are permanent. The piercings aren't." Immortal flesh healed any wound, even those inflicted intentionally.
And piercings she had, at least on the one ear. "A poser to whom?" Genuinely curious, he set the suitcase on the pavement.
Her smile grew, one corner quivering with suppressed laughter, drawing his gaze to that lovely, kissable mouth. "To the street kids."
"What street kids?"
Her expression sobered, the pixie disappearing as if she'd never been. "The lost ones. Mostly girls."
And he realized this was no game to her. In the dark depths of her eyes, a crusader's passion gleamed. And suddenly he understood. "You enter their world. You earn their trust in order to help them."
The look she gave him was a mix of surprise and approval. "They need help, and I have a lot of experience with gaining their trust and finding them that help. Setting them on the right paths."
He nodded, unaccountably moved by the emotion he saw in her face, the deep well of compassion and fire. Many Therians worked among the humans to earn a living. But how many, he wondered, threw the whole of themselves into bettering the short lives of a few mortals? And he felt certain that's exactly what Faith did.
"Humans," he murmured.
She lifted her chin. "Human kids." A note of defensiveness crept into her voice, a small warrior standing before him now. "The most defenseless creatures of all."
"I'm not criticizing you for it, Faith. I'm impressed. Not many Therians would bother."
Dark, intelligent eyes studied him as if searching for the truth of his words. But he'd meant what he'd said, and the smile that slowly began to spread across her face told him she'd figured it out. Her smile burrowed inside him like a small ball of heat deep in his chest.
He reached for another of the suitcases as she bent forward to grab a small, worn duffel that looked incongruous beside the large, expensive luggage. Their arms brushed. Her sweet scent flowed over him, sending a thrill through his system.
She turned to him as she pulled out the duffel, slinging the strap over one shoulder. "In my experience, Therians don't often care what happens to humans."
He wanted to argue that point, but in all honesty couldn't. The Ferals and Therians of his acquaintance were careful with humans, protecting human life wherever possible. But dedicating their lives to the betterment of a few individuals? No.
She tilted her head at him, her eyes curious. "Do you have a human mom or dad?"
"My father was a Feral Warrior." He leaned in to pull out the two remaining suitcases. "He was the previous hawk shifter and my mother the Radiant."
Her jaw dropped a little before snapping shut. "You're Therian royalty."
He started, then laughed. "I've never heard it put like that."
"So why the affinity for humans? Are you really as nice a guy as you seem?"
A nice guy. He'd always been that, or tried to be. He liked people, humans and Therians alike, more than many of his brothers. He liked kids, in particular. But nice guys didn't erupt in fits of rage, endangering anyone and everyone around them. And that was something he definitely did these days. Goddess, she shouldn't be out here with him alone. For a few enjoyable minutes he'd forgotten the rage that simmered inside him.
He blinked. The rage was barely noticeable. When had that happened?
The moment Faith smiled at him.
He set the last two suitcases on the pavement. "I'm not entirely sure what I am anymore." As soon as the words were out, he wished he hadn't answered quite so truthfully. It wasn't something he wanted to talk about. "So how did you come to accompany Maxim to Feral House?"
Her eyes lost their sparkle. "I think I'm going to be his mate."
His mate? Hawke tried to mask his dismay but knew he'd failed when she shrugged.
"We're not exactly a matched pair."
Hawke tried to laugh, but the sound was forced. "Not exactly."
His mate? He'd feared they might be lovers. By the way Maxim had walked off and left her in the car, he'd hoped she was just his servant. Disapproval curled in his gut. Newly marked or not, the man was lacking basic manners if he could treat the woman he'd chosen to spend his immortal life with so carelessly. That Feral didn't deserve this jewel of a woman.
But it didn't matter, did it? They'd clearly chosen one another. Maxim had brought her with him all the way from Poland. Soon, Faith would be just another of his brothers' mates, living at Feral House permanently. Just one more happily ever after to watch from afar. Except . . . he hadn't been attracted to the others. This one he was.
"You've been with Maxim a long time?" he asked as casually as he could manage.
"Not exactly." The sheepish twist of her smile had him lifting a brow. "I met him yesterday."
Hawke frowned. He didn't try to hide his surprise and wasn't sure he could have even if he had. She'd chosen to come all the way to America with the man, to bind herself to him for eternity . . . the first time she saw him?
"Don't judge." Her words were soft, her expression serious. "The moment we met, we knew we were meant to be together. Sometimes, it happens that way."
"Does it?" He shook his head. She was talking about binding herself to a stranger for eternity. Once the mating bond was formed, there was no severing it except by death. And the death of one mate often left the other living a half life. But it wasn't his business. In the current state he was in - his animal hijacking him at every possible juncture - he didn't need to be worrying about anyone but himself.
As Hawke picked up one of the suitcases, Faith reached for another. Hawke shook his head. "I'll get it."
"I can take one of his. I have two empty hands."
Hawke eyed the small duffel on her shoulder, then snorted. "That's all that's yours?"
Faith shrugged, that pixie grin lifting her intriguing mouth. "I travel light."
He reached for the duffel. "Let me have it."
All he earned himself was a good-natured scowl. "I'm not going to walk in empty-handed while you carry all this. I'm not helpless."
Maybe not helpless, but she was as slender and pretty as a lily, and he wasn't having her schlepping luggage. "Once you move in, you can carry your own weight. Today, you're a guest." He motioned her to hand it over, pretty certain her soon-to-be mate wouldn't appreciate her carrying her own duffel even if it was microscopic. Which might serve him right. But Hawke wanted to carry her bag. For some reason, it was important to him. "You'll bruise my masculine ego."