Feral warrior 4- Rapture Untamed

by Pamela Palmer

  Now Olivia claimed to care about him.

  And he’d destroyed them both.

  The guilt was almost more than he could bear. But he heard Olivia’s words in his head again.

  You’re being incredibly selfish, making everyone else miserable just to punish yourself.

  And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Exactly what his leader had said all those years ago when he’d called him a selfish, coldhearted bastard. He wasn’t coldhearted. But selfish? Yeah. How many lives had he darkened because of his inability to stop wallowing in his own guilt? How many had he destroyed?

  But not now. Not this time. The Jag he’d been before Olivia walked into his life wanted to slink off and castigate himself for failing, for the second time, the most important woman in his life. But he wasn’t that Jag anymore.

  Olivia needed him. For once, it wasn’t about him. It was about her. Because he loved her. And because he was goddamn tired of hating himself.

  He followed her scent through the yards of one multimillion-dollar home after another. A dog barked. Jag growled, and the dog whimpered and ran the other way.

  Not until he reached the cliffs high above the Potomac River did he finally spot her.

  Walking now, she glanced back, as if sensing him, her expression hunted.

  His hands curled into fists as he longed to carve out his own heart for doing this to her. The self-hatred swirled within him, raking him with sharp, painful claws. But he fought it. He had to deal with what he’d done. Look forward, not back. He couldn’t undo what had happened, and goddess knew there was no making it right, but he could stay at her side. He could damn well protect her.

  Deep inside him, his animal howled with pain.

  Her pain. Because her pain had become his.

  Always before, his guilt had been about him, the ultimate selfishness. This time, he could think of nothing but her.

  He caught up with Olivia as she trailed across the rocks, her breaths shallow and erratic, her skin white as snow.

  The guilt tried to rise inside him, and he beat it down. This wasn’t about him anymore.

  “Olivia. Liv. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen, you know that.”

  He might as well have been talking to the wind for all the response he got from her. He didn’t deserve a response. He didn’t deserve anything from her. This was his fault, his goddamn royal fucked-up…

  It’s not about me!

  Maybe not. But he goddamn hated himself.

  Olivia climbed out to the farthest point on the rocks and for a moment, he wondered if she would just keep going, falling into the cold, dangerous Potomac far below. Instead, she perched on a narrow ledge, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them as she stared down at the raging river.

  He knew she was strong, and yet at that moment she appeared tiny and delicate and so incredibly fragile. His head pounded with cold denial that he’d betrayed her secret, inadvertently or not. Yes, she was strong, but he’d opened her to death in a thousand ways.

  The fear of the draden-kissed went deep in the Therian psyche. For thousands of years, stories had been told of Therian villages wiped out in a single night, the Therians drained in their sleep without ever waking. Without ever knowing they had a life-stealer in their midst.

  Logically, most understood that mass death like that almost always happened accidentally, caused by a newly turned Therian who didn’t know they were a danger until it was too late. But the knowledge didn’t change anything. The fear persisted.

  Once word got out about Olivia, some would seek to kill her, despite the edict of tolerance. None would allow her near them or their loved ones or their enclaves. Her place in the Therian Guard would be lost.

  With his anger and his carelessness, he’d taken everything from her. Everything.

  Jag sank to the rock behind her, burying his face in his hands.

  She understood him better than anyone ever had. “You’re right, Liv. As much as I’ve denied it, everything you said about me is true. I hate myself. I hate myself for not saving Cordelia. For getting her into that mess in the first place.”

  She didn’t respond. He hadn’t really expected her to. His gaze drank in the sight of her vibrant head, her fragile neck bent as she stared down into the water.

  “I won’t let them hurt you, Liv. Any of them. I can’t undo what’s been done, but I can make sure you’re never alone again. I’ll leave the Ferals. I’ll live with you, wherever you want to go. No one is ever going to hurt you.”

  Slowly, Olivia turned her head, meeting his gaze with eyes that even now, even after all he’d done to her, radiated with a strength greater than his own.

  “Go away, Jag. I don’t want you in my life anymore. I don’t need you.”

  He met that gaze and saw no trace of the hatred that should be there. No hint that she cared anything for him at all. Only deep weariness lived in her eyes, and a sadness that tore his heart out.

  “You do need me, Liv. They’ll hunt you. If not the Ferals, then someone else.”

  She lifted a brow. “And you’d sacrifice your life and your work here to protect me?”

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “Anyone other than you, you mean?”

  The words stabbed him through the heart. “I deserved that. I didn’t mean to betray you, Olivia.”

  “No. You didn’t want to hear what I had to say, and you lashed out at me for saying it. And now it doesn’t matter anymore.” She turned away again. “Nothing matters anymore.”

  “Olivia…I care about you, too. I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  She lifted her head slowly and looked at him over her shoulder, but there was no joy in her expression.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I don’t know, Jag,” she said wearily. “Maybe you do feel something. But it doesn’t matter. Your caring about me, even loving me, isn’t going to do either of us any good until you love yourself. You’ll just keep punishing you and hurting me. Until you learn to forgive yourself and find a way to see past your mistakes to the good person deep inside, you’re not ready to love anyone else.”

  She pushed her hair back, propping her elbow on her knees. “It’s okay to fail sometimes. We all do. The key is trusting yourself to try to do the right things. And forgiving yourself if you fall short on occasion. Until you’ve done that, and let go of the guilt and self-hatred, you’re toxic, Jag.”

  Olivia turned back to face the river, turning her back on him. “Now go away and leave me alone.”

  Jag stared at the back of her head, at her small spine, which even now radiated strength, and he struggled with a pain almost more than he could bear. He couldn’t leave her. Yet he would die before he let anyone hurt her again.

  Even him.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, watching the rising sun and trying not to hate himself, when he first heard the cry. A child’s cry of fear.

  His head snapped around and he spied her immediately, a girl of no more than nine or ten, running through the woods toward the cliffs where they sat. She wore jeans and a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, but the shirt was torn at the neck, and tears streamed down her terrified face.

  Jag leaped to his feet and started for her.

  The child saw him and ran straight for him. “Help me! He’s trying to hurt me.”

  Jag growled in fury.

  “Bastard,” Olivia hissed beside him.

  Jag hadn’t realized she’d followed, and he met her gaze. For one fleeting moment, they were once more in perfect accord.

  As one, they climbed off the rocks as the girl reached them. She held out her hands, and Jag took one as Olivia took the other. No one was hurting her.

  An odd, almost sly smile broke over the child’s mouth. Then she looked up at them and Jag froze. He told himself to snatch his hand from hers, but it was too late. Enthrallment descended over his mind as he stared into a pair of copper-ringed eyes.

  The eyes
of a young Mage.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Where is he?” Lyon demanded. “He’s not answering his cell.”

  Tighe met his friend and leader’s hard gaze. “Olivia didn’t kill him. I don’t pretend to understand that relationship, but my instincts tell me that not only is it not in her nature, but she has feelings for him. Goddess knows why. She might shatter his kneecap, but she wouldn’t kill him.”

  “Then where the hell is he?”

  “I’ll find him.”

  Tighe called Wulfe and Hawke, and together the three set out, Wulfe in his animal form, the best tracker among them. As Wulfe set the direction, Hawke took to the skies.

  I see him, Hawke said as they neared the river. On the rocks. He’s not moving.

  Hawke’s words rang an ominous knell.

  Dead? Tighe asked. Goddess. He’d been so sure she wouldn’t hurt him. From the moment she dug her heel into Jag’s instep, he’d thought the jaguar shifter had finally met his match. Everything he’d seen since had confirmed it.

  Not only the way Jag looked at her, but the way she’d looked at Jag. With the eyes of a woman fighting the pull of love.

  After all they’d been through together, he couldn’t blame Jag for bringing her back to Feral House, especially if he thought he could control her.

  But he was afraid they’d both been wrong.

  We should have gone with him, Tighe said to himself as much as to Hawke and Wulfe. We shouldn’t have let him go after her alone.

  As messed up as Jag was, he wasn’t all bad, not by a long shot. And he was a damn good fighter. The last thing they needed was to lose another Feral.

  Well he’s not alone, now. I don’t see any sign of Olivia, but there are people around him. Old people. Humans.

  Tighe and Wulfe caught up with Hawke. Wulfe stayed behind, away from people, stuck in the form of a huge wolf. Like Lyon and Jag, he couldn’t retain his clothes when he shifted, but neither could he downsize into something innocuous. Neither of his forms—the huge wolf or the large, scarred, naked man—was human-friendly. Hawke landed in the woods and shifted, then led Tighe to the small group of elderly hikers who’d found the Feral.

  Several looked up when the two men approached. Tighe said nothing, just eased past them and knelt beside Jag’s prone form. He touched his hand, terrified he’d find it quickly cooling, but Jag’s hand felt warm, thank the goddess. A quick glance at his throat and he could see the pulse pounding strongly.

  He closed his eyes with the force of his relief.

  “We’ve called 911,” one of the women said.

  Hell. Tighe looked up at her, a woman with shoulder-length gray hair and wise eyes. “Was he alone when you found him?”

  “Yes. He was just like this. We tried to wake him, but he didn’t respond.”

  Tighe nodded, then scooped Jag up, slinging him over one shoulder. The humans stepped back, their eyes wide, as if he’d just performed a spectacular feat of strength. He supposed he had, from a mortal viewpoint.

  “He’s passed out drunk. Thank you for caring for him.” They’d seen nothing out of the ordinary except for a little surprising strength. If there’d been time, he’d have taken their memories, but he didn’t know what was wrong with Jag, and the sooner he got him back to Feral House, and away from any further human contact, the better.

  Wulfe, get over here. Jag’s fine, but he’s out cold. See if you can pick up Olivia’s scent. We need to find her.

  He turned back to the humans. “If you see my dog, don’t panic. He looks like a big wolf, but he’s harmless.”

  Wulfe passed them as they started into the woods and caught up to them again as they reached Hawke’s Yukon.

  The big wolf leaped into the vehicle, then shifted back into a man. “I followed the trail to the street and lost it. Maybe she hitchhiked out, or took a car?”

  Tighe glanced back, meeting Wulfe’s worried gaze. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. They both feared that wasn’t the case at all.

  Tighe pulled out his phone and called Lyon. “Jag’s unconscious, and there’s no sign of Olivia. Wulfe followed her trail, but it disappears abruptly, as if she got into a car.”

  Lyon put two and two together and came up with the same number Tighe had. “He’s enthralled. And the Mage have Olivia.”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “If they turn her before we can stop them, she’s going to make a hell of a weapon.” Lyon pulled his mouth from the phone and shouted. “Kougar, Vhyper! Load up the vehicles. Every man, every woman.”

  “Harpers Ferry?” Tighe asked.

  “My gut’s telling me that’s the place.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “Get back here, ASAP. We’re rolling!”

  The sound of Feral voices and the rumble of an SUV engine slowly broke through the fog that encased Jag’s brain.

  “He’s coming around,” Wulfe said behind him.

  “Jag?” Tighe’s voice sounded close by.

  His senses told him he was sitting up, the seat belt locking him tight against the seat. In Hawke’s Yukon, by the sound of the engine. Jag struggled to open his eyes, blinking against the morning sun reflecting off his window as they went around a curve.

  “What the fuck happened?” he asked groggily. From what he could piece together, the Ferals were road-tripping, but he’d lost the why and where. Had he fallen asleep? Goddess, he felt like he’d been hit over the head with a sledgehammer.

  Or…enthralled.

  The girl! The girl who’d run to him and Olivia.

  The grogginess ripped away, leaving him reeling with shock, sending his heart into a free fall.

  “Olivia.”

  “What happened, Jag?” Lyon asked grimly from the seat in front of him. Hawke was driving, as he’d suspected.

  Tension stiffened every muscle in his body. “Where is she?”

  “Gone, buddy,” Tighe said. “When you didn’t come back, we went looking for you. We found you on the cliffs, unconscious. We followed Olivia’s scent to the road. It disappeared there.”

  The memory of the child taunted him. A little girl with tears on her cheeks. And copper rings around her eyes.

  “The Mage have her.” Jag told them about the little girl, then tipped his head back, thinking. “They must know what she is. We destroyed all the Mage we found around that house, but we couldn’t get through the warding to get inside. There must have been others.” His breath caught on a snag of panic. “If they take her soul…”

  “We had the same thought,” Lyon said. “We’re heading back to Harpers Ferry, now.”

  Jag raked his hair off his face with fingers that weren’t even in the same ballpark as steady. “Wings, can’t this bus go any faster?”

  Tighe’s hand landed on his shoulder. “We’ll get there as quickly as we can.” He didn’t remove his hand, and Jag didn’t ask him to. For once, he had no desire to push anyone away. His life was crumbling around him, and all he had, all he’d ever had, were these men.

  Until Olivia.

  And now he’d lost her.

  “You really think you’ve fallen for her,” Tighe said quietly.

  “Hook, line, and sinker.” Jag laughed, but the sound was strangled. “I have a hell of a way of showing it.”

  “Love has a way of cutting a man off at the knees. At least until he gives in to it. It makes you weaker than you’ll ever be. And stronger.”

  Jag met Tighe’s gaze, seeing a surprising understanding in his eyes.

  His own expression hardened. “Fair warning,” Jag said loud enough for every man to hear loud and clear.

  “Olivia’s my mate.” Even if she never spoke to him again. His jaw clenched, a growl rumbling from his throat. “If you try to harm her, I’ll kill you.”

  “And if she’s been turned?” Lyon asked from the front seat.

  “If she’s been turned, I’ll kill her myself.”

  For several minutes, the silence in the car was absol
ute. Then Hawke spoke.

  “I’ve never heard of anyone being able to feel a life-stealer feed.”

  Lyon turned to look at Jag over the back of his seat. “Is that what you felt in the war room, when you thought you were feeling magic?”

  “Yes. She often feeds at a low graze when she’s around others. It wouldn’t have affected anyone, let alone hurt us, but I felt it. I always feel it.”

  He took a deep breath and told them everything. How she’d fed from the Daemon, and that essence had made her incredibly stronger. How she’d taken out an entire swarm single-handedly last night.

  “All the more reason to keep the women out of her reach,” Tighe said.

  “Where are they?”

  “In your Hummer with Paenther, Kougar, and Ewan. They’re behind us. We weren’t taking any chances until we saw whether or not you were still enthralled when you woke up.”

  “Paenther’s back?”

  “We need every hand on deck for this operation.”

  They rode in silence, Jag’s feet tapping a Mariachi beat on the floor mat. They’d get there in time. They had to get there in time. The alternative was more than he could bear to think about. He would save her.

  And then what?

  He’d fucked up everything with her because of his hardheaded refusal to listen to her criticism. No, not criticism. Truth. She’d told him he had to face that day, the day Cordelia died. Face it, look it in the eye, then get over it.

  A deep shudder went through him. He’d already faced that day a thousand times in his nightmares. The last thing, the very last thing he wanted to do was open it up in broad daylight. But tipping his head back against the seat, he knew he would. Because Olivia had asked him to. Demanded him to. And it might be the last thing he ever got to do for her.

  The thought clutched at his chest. No. No, it wouldn’t be the last, because he was fucking well going to save her.

  He forced himself to go back to that awful day three hundred years ago. What a prick he’d been! Screwing every human girl who’d lift her skirts for him even though he’d known Therian tradition forbade him from having sex until he was twenty-five. How many times had Cordelia ordered him not to go to the village? How many times had she warned him…?