Feral warrior 4- Rapture Untamed

by Pamela Palmer

And he feared he was going to be too late.

  Cold sweat ran down Olivia’s temples as she covered her nose against the awful stench and stared at the gruesome sight, at the monster a dozen times more terrifying than anything her imagination had been able to dredge up. A Daemon. An honest-to-God Daemon.

  Her breath trembled in her lungs, her damp hands gripping her knives until her fingers ached as her gaze raked the creature’s hideous and contorted face. Its features were as indistinct as a draden’s, as if the face had been made from wax left too long in the sun. Sharp, uneven fangs hung from a sloping mouth while small, wicked daggers protruded from his fingertips in the form of claws. Thick ropes of black hair hung from his head, each shimmering with frightening iridescence as it embraced the long, black cloak that encased his hovering body.

  After Jag left her in the Hummer, she’d given him a small head start, then tried to follow on foot, but she’d already lost him. She might be fast, but the jaguar was faster. So she’d opened her senses, the ones tuned to draden, to see if she might be able to pick up an energy trail. Sure enough, as she’d neared the Shenandoah, she’d felt a prickle of current run over her skin. She’d followed it as it grew hotter and more urgent, right to the Daemon.

  As he floated closer, she spread her feet fighting distance apart, gripping her knives as her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Opening herself, she pulled at that swirl of Daemon energy, pulling it into her. Feeding. If Jag were close enough to feel something, she’d blame it on the Daemon.

  But she nearly vomited. The energy wasn’t true life force, but something else. Something rancid. Foul.

  The Daemon hissed, an ugly, inhuman sound of anger as if he’d felt her. He moved closer, his wicked claws extended, a huge creature, easily as big as Jag. Sweat rolled between her shoulder blades as she braced herself for the fight of her life.

  As the Daemon flew at her, she struck, slicing one knife across his outstretched hand, spinning and stabbing her second knife into his shoulder before leaping away again.

  The Daemon screamed, a terrible, high-pitched sound.

  Olivia marveled at the speed and ease with which she’d just moved—faster than she’d ever moved before. Was it adrenaline? Or the Daemon’s energy? The latter. She could feel it inside her, swirling, strengthening. The stuff might taste foul, but it was powerful. Opening herself, she took more.

  The Daemon hissed and struck, raking one of his claws down her left arm, shredding her jacket and her flesh. Pain screamed through her body, the pain of the wound, and more. As if he’d not only cut her open, but poured acid inside. She clamped down on the scream that roared up her throat and spun away, feeding harder, faster.

  But the acid raced through her blood, counteracting the strength of the Daemon energy itself. Slowing her down.

  The Daemon struck a second time. She spun and ducked beneath the wicked claws aiming for her face. And felt the sharp piercing of the flesh of her back.

  The scream ripped from her throat, even as she rose, stabbing the Daemon through what should have been his gut. But her knife met only air. What in the hell was beneath that robe? She stabbed high into his chest, and this time her blade found purchase close to where his right shoulder blade met his clavicle. Something wet and sticky splattered over her hand.

  The Daemon made a horrible, furious sound, like nails on a chalkboard, and flew back. As he rose into the sky, the acid burned through her body until she could barely breathe through the pain.

  She sank to her knees, no longer able to stand. Would he be back to finish her off?

  Or, goddess help her, was she already as good as dead?

  Chapter Seven

  The first scream tore through the night, raking his jaguar’s eardrums—an unearthly screech of pain that sent razors flaying his nervous system and terror clawing at his heart even as he cheered at the sound. A sound that had to be the Daemon’s.

  Go, Red!

  But the second scream tore at his insides in an entirely different way. Because this one hadn’t come from the creature. It was Olivia’s.

  On four legs, Jag tore through the woods, racing through the trees until he came upon a sight that chilled him to the depths of his soul—the Daemon hovering over Olivia. But even as he watched, the thing flew up into the air as Olivia sank to her knees.

  The warrior inside him demanded he go after the escaping Daemon and kill it, but the man in him had other priorities. He ran to Olivia, shifting into his human form, and fell to his knees beside her. As she listed forward, her eyes glassy, he grabbed her.

  “Red.” He gripped her tight. “Olivia.”

  “Catch him.” Her voice was breathless, tight with pain.

  “He’s gone.”

  “Follow…him.” Her back had been opened, a thin strip of flesh hanging loose, her ribs shining in the moonlight through a river of blood.

  “Goddess, what did he do to you? You’re not healing.”

  “Poison. Feels like…poison.”

  “From what?”

  “His claws.”

  “Venom. They must have venom in their claws.” His fingers spasmed on her upper arms. “Dammit, Olivia. Why didn’t you wait in the Hummer like I told you to?”

  “I’m a warrior. Not a…thumb-twiddler. Would you have waited?”

  “Hell no, but I rarely do what I’m supposed to.”

  “Catch him, Jag.”

  “Later.” Shit, she looked like hell. Her clothes were half-torn from her. Her creamy skin looked pale as sand, and he feared if he let her go, she’d fall over onto the ground and never get up again. “You need help, Red. We’ve got to get you back to Feral House.”

  Her small hand tried to lift, but fell to her side. “I’ll heal. Catch him before he kills again.”

  “And leave you out here for the draden to finish off? Not. Bloody. Likely.” He pulled her against him, then lifted her, one arm under her hips, the other across her shoulders as he avoided the destruction of her back. She continued to bleed fiercely. Her body would continue to make new blood for hours, but eventually, even a Therian body would shut down. And goddess knew what the Daemon venom was doing to her.

  She wrapped her good arm around his neck, hanging on, clinging to him with quaking muscles, her body taut as a bowstring. Her other arm hung loose and ragged.

  Dammit, he should have been the one to take on that thing. He’d have killed it.

  She pressed her face against the curve of his shoulder, her body trembling, but she made no sound. Her silent suffering only bolstered his admiration for her.

  He should have known she wouldn’t stay behind. Everything about her cried warrior. Both the way she stood and the way she carried herself spoke of a strength and self-confidence of the body as well as the spirit. The confidence of someone used to fighting. Used to winning.

  That confidence had a lot to do with why he was attracted to her, if he were honest.

  “What did you do to it to make it fly away, Red? I need to know.”

  “Knifed him.” Her voice sounded a little stronger, her trembling felt less violent than a moment ago.

  He prayed that meant she was beginning to heal. The knot of fear he hadn’t even realized he’d been feeling began to ease.

  “I stabbed it where its gut should have been, but I hit air.”

  Jag grunted, frowning. “Just like a draden. Next time go for the heart.”

  “I tried. It wasn’t where I thought it would be.”

  Next time? Was he out of his mind? Was he really going to let her hunt that thing with him?

  Hell.

  He carried her awkwardly through the woods, trying not to hurt her more than the Daemon already had even as he kept his senses open. He was stark naked, carrying a wounded woman in his arms. Company of any kind—human, Mage, draden, Daemon—would prove awkward at this point, if not downright deadly. All he could do was try to get her back to the Hummer without another incident.

  What were the chances?

  He’d bar
ely posed the question when he saw the shadow pass overhead, blotting out the moon’s glow. An unnatural shadow he knew all too well.

  Shit. “Draden.”

  Olivia’s fingers dug into his bare shoulder. “How many?”

  He swallowed. This was going to be close. “I’m guessing about a dozen. I need your knives, Red.”

  “I thought Ferals fought draden in your animals.”

  “They’re only drawn to Therian energy, not the animals. If I shift now, you’ll be the only one they attack.” In her weakened state, they’d kill her before he could destroy them. No way in hell he was letting that happen.

  Above him, he felt the small cloud of draden pressing down, descending through the treetops, and he set Olivia on the ground at his feet. She managed to sit up, barely, pulling one knife after another out of her inner jacket pockets.

  She handed two to him and palmed the third. He suspected she’d have gone for a fourth, except her injured arm still hung useless at her side.

  Their gazes met, her eyes looking pained and dazed. “You okay, Red?” If only the Hummer were nearby. If only he could lock her safely behind its warded windows. She was too weak for this.

  She nodded, giving him a pained smile. “Let’s kill some draden.” Injured and dazed, about to face a second mortal enemy in a matter of minutes, she should be terrified. Beaten.

  Instead, the light of battle shone in eyes bright with courage.

  He met that smile slowly, a fierce determination to protect her, and something more, some emotion he couldn’t even name, blooming warm and thick inside him. “You got it, Red. Let’s kill us some draden.” He winked at her and turned, spreading his feet shoulder-width apart as he prepared for the assault.

  As the first draden descended, he attacked, digging his knives into their bodies and popping their hearts, one after the other. Four kills. Five. The key was to kill them before they latched onto him. Once they were on his back or scalp, he’d play heck getting them off him again and be forced to shift into his animal before they drained him dry. But the moment he shifted, they’d go after Olivia.

  Instead, he moved cleanly and quickly, turning to keep them off him, circling Olivia to keep them off her.

  One of the suckers got through and latched onto his shoulder, its sharp teeth burying deep into his flesh. Fortunately, it was where he could reach it, and he quickly killed it.

  Two came in low and tried to attack Olivia directly, but she dispatched them with quick, practiced ease. The last five flew at him from opposite sides, dive-bombing him at once. He killed three, but one caught in his hair and latched onto the back of his skull. Another dug sharp teeth into his right flank.

  The pain seared hot and sharp. He popped the one on his flank, but as he lifted his knife to go at the one on his head, he caught sight of a second shadow moving high above.

  He looked up, and froze.

  Holy shit.

  “We’ve got trouble, Olivia. Looks like this was just the scouting party.” High above them, another swarm descended, three times the size of the first. Maybe four.

  As he killed the thing on his scalp, cold sweat broke out on his flesh. His head began to pound as the truth crashed over him. He couldn’t take on a swarm that size in his human form. They’d kill him long before he destroyed half of them. But if he shifted back into his jaguar and saved himself, Olivia was as good as dead.

  Dammit. His hands clenched and unclenched around the knife handles as the hopelessness of the situation rained over him like sharp pellets of ice. Dammit. She was going to die. Fury boiled inside him, spilling over in a hot rush, finding an outlet.

  He whirled on Olivia. “Why didn’t you stay in the fucking car?”

  She gaped at him. “It’s a little late to be worrying about that now!” Her voice had steadied, turning strong again. She struggled to her feet and slowly pulled yet another knife out of her jacket with her injured arm. But the knife slid through her fingers and dropped to the ground.

  Jag growled, his mind searching desperately for an answer. If he thought he could outrun the swarm, he’d toss her over his shoulder and take off, but draden on the scent could fly twice as fast as even his cat could run. On human feet, he and Olivia would be nothing but sitting ducks.

  Running wasn’t an option. And Olivia sure as hell wasn’t up for defending herself. How could anyone defend himself against more than forty draden? She was going to die.

  Unless he shifted, they were both going to die.

  The cold truth washed down his spine in an icy sweat. No!

  “Back on the ground, Red. Now!”

  Pulling on the power of his animal, he shifted into his jaguar, not for the first time wishing he possessed the ability to make his animal larger instead of just smaller. Still, at more than six feet long, not including his tail, he could protect most of her. Her back. He had to protect her back.

  When he looked up at her through his jaguar’s eyes, she was still standing, still determined to fight.

  Your listening skills need some work, Red. Get on the ground, now! Fast!

  “Why?” She sank to her knees.

  On your back and keep your knife at the ready, though I’d consider it a favor it you’d try not to stab me.

  She looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but after only a small hesitation, she finally did as he ordered. As the first of the draden descended, Jag dove on top of her, blanketing her with his animal’s body.

  Get under me. And tell me if they bite you anywhere.

  “Jag, this isn’t going to work. We have to kill them.”

  I’ll bite the ones I can reach.

  “And the rest will wait here, trying to get at me for the rest of the night. We won’t find that Daemon.”

  Screw the Daemon. I’m trying to keep you alive. If I get up, they’ll swarm you. You’ll be dead in minutes.

  The draden cloud descended over them, fighting their way in, pressing into every opening. And they were reaching her, dammit. He snapped at them, eating the tasteless things, draden after draden, but he didn’t seem to make a dent in the numbers.

  They’re getting you.

  “I’m okay.” But her voice said otherwise. He heard pain. A thread of fear.

  His mind spiraled back to that other place, that other time. He felt those blows to his far younger body, the fists attacking him as the enclave leader’s furious voice roared in his head across three and a half centuries.

  “You let her die. You let her die! You selfish, coldhearted bastard.”

  Yes, yes he was all those things. But not this night. Not this night. Olivia was not going to die while he lay here, protected and safe. Useless.

  In a flash of colorful light, he shifted back into a man. In one corner of his mind he reveled in the feel of her soft curves beneath him. Then the draden attacked, and any thoughts of lust disappeared as if they’d never been.

  “What are you doing?” Olivia cried.

  He leaped off her. “Curl up, Red!”

  The draden swarmed them both, but he grabbed the knives off the ground and fought them with everything he had, keeping them off himself as best he could, but his focus was on her. He had to kill the ones who came near her.

  She is not going to die.

  Those gray eyes would not turn cold and sightless, that fiery spirit would not be doused. Goddess knew what she’d done to him, but she’d touched him, connected with him in a way no woman had, perhaps ever. They might do nothing but battle one another, but he was beginning to care about her, dammit. He cared. He wasn’t going to let her die.

  Olivia ignored him and sat up, stabbing draden nearly as quickly as he did. Still, they kept coming. There must be fifty of them. With two hands, he couldn’t get them all. They latched onto his shoulders, his scalp, his back and flanks and legs.

  “Jag, shift back!”

  “No.”

  “You idiotic, stubborn, Feral!” she shouted.

  He ignored her, his concentration on one thing a
nd one thing only. Killing the draden. He fought until the sweat ran in rivulets down his temples, until his body became a mass of searing pain. Until his legs began to weaken.

  The damn draden were winning. He didn’t know what else to do. What he’d done wasn’t enough.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Ah, goddess, what do I do?

  The question tore through Olivia’s quaking mind as she fought the draden with a desperation beyond anything she’d faced in over five and a half centuries. Because she couldn’t fight them her way, by stealing their energy for herself. Jag would know.

  But if she didn’t, if they didn’t dispatch the draden soon, they were both going to die.

  Jag loomed over her, killing most of the draden that tried to attack her. She looked up and gasped at the sight of him. They were covering him. Covering him. Even as she watched, his movements began to slow, and he lurched drunkenly.

  They were killing him.

  “Jag, shift!”

  “No.” His voice was low and flat, as if he’d already accepted his own death.

  But he wouldn’t die if he shifted, dammit. They couldn’t hurt him in his animal.

  My God, he was sacrificing his life in a hopeless attempt to save hers when all she had to do to live was steal the energy from the draden around her.

  Which would give her secret away.

  Which would destroy her life.

  But what choice did she have?

  If she did nothing, if she let the draden kill him, then saved herself, no one would ever know, and her secret would be safe. And the man who was sacrificing his life to save her would be dead.

  “Jag, listen to me. You must shift. They can’t hurt me.”

  He didn’t look at her.

  “Jag, I’m draden-kissed!”

  But he didn’t respond, focused only on staying alive. On keeping them both alive.

  She crawled out from under the slash of his knives and pushed herself to her feet, her body still weak from the Daemon venom.

  He swung to her, his gaze unfocused. “Olivia, no. They’ll kill you.”

  “They can’t kill me unless I let them.” Meeting his gaze, forcing herself to watch the knowledge leap into his eyes, she spread her arms and let them bite her, then sucked them dry, not fighting them. Not needing to.