Ecstasy Untamed

Although he'd been nice enough on the plane. Before they'd arrived at Feral House.



Was she being unfair to him? There was so much more to any man than the way he reacted when faced with such a difficult and unique situation - turning into a shape-shifter, leaving his home for good, becoming one of a group of men who had known one another for decades, if not centuries. Becoming a soldier when he was clearly used to being a prince.



To pass final judgment on him in the midst of such chaos was unfair. She had to give him and the mating connection time.



Maxim pushed open the door to reveal a well-furnished, if unadorned, bedchamber six times larger and a thousand times nicer than anywhere she'd lived in the past sixty or seventy years even if it was half the size of Kara's.



Maxim closed the door behind him, threw the dead bolt, then walked across the room to the window.



"Hawke wants you." The words were emotionless, a simple statement of fact.



"He was just being friendly." But she knew better, she knew that the attraction between them was real. She felt it every time he came near her. And his eyes told her he felt it, too.



"He's not getting you. You're mine."



Faith stared at the back of his head, wanting to argue that it was her decision, not his. Not Hawke's. But the pull of the slowly knitting mating bond between her and Maxim said otherwise.



Maxim sighed and turned around, regret in his eyes. "I behaved badly, I'm afraid. The way he was looking at you . . ." He shook his head. "I wanted to hurt him. I hurt you instead." He shrugged. "It was a foolish way to act. You're a beautiful woman. They will look." When he smiled, his expression turned almost charming. "Forgive me? I am not myself. Once I come into my animal, I will be the mate you deserve, Faith. I vow it."



Faith watched him, her instincts jumbled and confused. "I've spent a lifetime rescuing girls from men who would use them and abuse them. I won't be one of them."



His mouth thinned, then relaxed. Slowly he nodded. "Fair enough." But there was something about the rigidness of his shoulders and the way his right hand clenched and unclenched that told her this argument was far from over.



She was perplexed at fate's having chosen her for this man. They were so different. He was an aristocrat, and she hung with the street kids. If she were a gambler, she'd wager they'd never make it as a couple, regardless what fate decreed. She'd wager that in six weeks, she'd be back in Warsaw trying to coax Paulina into trusting her again. Back to living alone, sleeping alone, with Feral House and her warriors nothing but a bittersweet memory.



"Wondered where you were."



Hawke looked up from his plate as Wulfe sauntered into the dining room, then returned to the thick, savory slices of roast beef Pink had brought out to him a short while before.



Wulfe sat down beside him and poured himself a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the table. "You missed a fun time at dinner." He leaned back in his chair. "It's like he thinks he's the new general sent to lead the troops. He's pissing me off."



"Join the club." At least his brothers felt the same. This would be so much worse if Maxim were genuinely a nice guy whom everyone else liked.



Hawke glanced at Wulfe. "Faith?"



Wulfe looked at him for a long moment, sympathy slowly deepening his gaze. "You're smitten with her," he said quietly. "I saw the way you were watching her during the reception."



Hawke turned away, digging his fork into another bite of meat. "No one uses the word smitten anymore."



"Doesn't change the fact."



Hell. "I don't know what I am. Yeah, actually I do. I'm a fucked-up mess."



Wulfe's dinner-plate-sized hand landed lightly on Hawke's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Wings. You're too good a guy to be dealing with so much shit. If I could take some of it off your shoulders, I would."



Hawke met his friend's gaze and nodded. "I know."



Lyon and Kara walked into the room a moment later. "There you are," Kara said quietly.



Hawke grunted. "The moment I don't show up, everyone assumes I've flown the coop."



"I had a feeling you'd decided to avoid another confrontation." Lyon held out a chair for Kara, then seated himself. "That was a wise move."



Hawke nodded and took another bite. Hell, wisdom had nothing to do with it. He still couldn't shake the sight of that stunned look on Faith's face when he'd gone feral. Or the crazed jealousy that nearly flattened him every time he saw Maxim's arm around her. He'd wisely stayed away from dinner because his control had been razor-thin, and he'd feared he'd lose it completely and rip the bastard's head off. None of the Ferals would have minded, he was sure. But Faith would have really looked at him in horror, and he couldn't bear that.



Lightning bolted across his skull, fiery fingers crawling across the inside of his head, setting off the hawk's angry cry.



Dammit. Enough! I'm not hurting you intentionally!



"You okay?" Lyon asked, watching him worriedly.



As the talons released him, Hawke nodded. "Fine."



Lyon pinned him with his gaze for several seconds, apparently deciding not to press the issue. "I think it's best if you stay out of Maxim's path until we bring him into his animal. Hopefully, he'll be more agreeable afterward."



Wulfe grunted. "Do you really think that's going to happen?"



"Goddess, I hope so."



"Where is he now?" Hawke asked, then wished he hadn't. The last thing he wanted to hear was that he'd taken Faith up to bed. He had no business feeling that way! She'd come with Maxim. She belonged to Maxim. But the wildness inside him vehemently disagreed. Mine.



"The media room," Wulfe said. "Lyon managed to elude Maxim after dinner, so he cornered Paenther."



"Poor Faith," Kara murmured. "She's so embarrassed by the way he's acting."



"We'll bring him into his animal in the morning." Lyon sighed. "At least then I can put him on nightly draden-hunting duty. Maybe the draden will wear down that outsized ego of his. Before we have to beat it out of him."



Hawke smiled dangerously. "If the draden fail, I'm first in line."



But he wouldn't be, of course. The moment he started fighting, the damn hawk took over. He was of no goddamn use anymore.



A movement in the doorway caught his eye. "Faith." In the dress she'd worn during the reception - a soft, clingy, black number at once modest and sexy as hell - she eyed them with dismay and embarrassment, and a look that told him she was about to turn and bolt. After watching Lyon and him go feral earlier, he could hardly blame her.



"Hi, Faith," Kara said, having followed his gaze. "Come join us."



To Hawke's relief, Faith nodded and started forward, slowly at first, then with less hesitation. He felt sorry for her, certain that her partner's disfavor had her wondering if she was even welcome anymore. When she reached the table, she dropped wearily into the chair beside Kara.



"Is everything okay?" Kara asked gently.



Faith ran a slender hand through her hair, scattering the blue-tipped ends over her shoulders. She opened her mouth, then closed it, as if loyalty to her future mate kept her from voicing her frustration. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "I don't understand him."



Kara's hand covered Faith's. "No one's judging you by his actions."



Lyon grunted. "New Ferals are often a pain in the ass."



Faith's gaze slid to Hawke for the first time since she walked into the room, then away again, as if she couldn't quite bring herself to look at him. Out of loyalty to Maxim? Or because he'd scared the shit out of her by going feral? He ached at the thought that it might be the latter.



"I'm surprised he let you out of his sight," Wulfe muttered.



Faith's expression turned rueful. "Maxim's attention is . . . erratic."



In other words, as long as Hawke wasn't in the room, he ignored her. The prick. She didn't belong with him. But Maxim would never willingly let her go. Certainly not to him. War would erupt, and Faith would forever be caught in the middle.



No, if she left Maxim, she'd leave Feral House. And neither of them would see her again. Which was the worst outcome of all.



She stood, and he was afraid she already meant to leave. "I actually came to find another glass of lemonade."



"I'll get it," Kara offered, starting to rise, but Faith waved her back.



Hawke rose and caught up with Faith just as she reached the swinging door. She glanced up at him with shadowed eyes but no fear. If he'd seen fear, he'd have backed away.



"I'm sorry, Faith," he said quietly, as they entered the empty kitchen together. He could hear the sound of a television coming from Pink's apartments on the far side of the kitchen, accompanied by Xavier's voice and the soft ring of Pink's laughter.



Faith glanced at him uncertainly. "Sorry for what?" She reached for the refrigerator, turning her slender back to him.



His fingers itched to reach for her, to pull her back against him, to feel her in his arms. Instead, he leaned back against the island, crossing his arms over his chest.



"I'm sorry for provoking him."



She pulled the glass pitcher out of the fridge and set it on the counter, her brows drawn as if to argue, but he lifted his hand. "I did." His voice softened. "I told you how pretty you looked, right in front of him. His comment about your wardrobe made me angry. But I shouldn't have said anything. I knew how he'd react. I wanted him on the defensive with you. Unfortunately, I didn't foresee the chain of events that had him retaliating with the dig about my animal and you paying for it. He hurt you, and it was my fault."



She turned away from him, found a glass, and poured herself some lemonade. "Do you want any?" she asked, without glancing at him.



"No, thank you."



Without replying, she put the pitcher away, then took a sip of her drink, not letting him off the hook. Not accepting his apology. He couldn't read her at all right now, and it bothered him. He still worried . . . "Did I scare you when I went feral?"



Black lashes swept up as she met his gaze. For several seconds, she said nothing before finally answering. "A little. I can't imagine anyone not feeling a thrill of fear the first time they watch a man grow fangs and his eyes turn to those of an animal. Though I was surprised you didn't have bird eyes and talons. You looked like you might shift into a jungle cat."



"All shape-shifters look the same in that in-between state. Except the vipers. Once upon a time, the nonpredatory animals would have been at a serious disadvantage otherwise."



She took another sip of the lemonade, her expression pensive. Smiley was nowhere in evidence.



"Tell me what you're thinking, Faith," he said softly.



Her surprised gaze snapped back up to meet his, and again, she took her time to answer, taking a long drink of the lemonade before setting the half-empty glass on the counter. "I don't want to be responsible for you and Maxim never getting along. I don't want to be the bone of contention between you."



Her words shamed him. "I don't want that either."



"He's going to be my mate, Hawke."



"I know." And he did, as much as it ate at him to admit it. Goddess, how had he screwed this up so badly? He'd never before overstepped with any of his brother's mates. Then again, he'd never felt anything more than affection or protectiveness for any of them. Only this one. And it was probably no coincidence that he was at his lowest right now. "Neither Maxim nor I are completely ourselves at the moment, Smiley. Once everything settles down, we'll be fine. All of us. I'll make sure of it."



Her mouth compressed, then slowly softened with a small, grateful smile that filled him with a pleasure far greater than such a small smile warranted. "Thank you, Hawke."



He returned her smile, his own no bigger than hers despite feeling the urge to grin. "You're welcome."



"I better get back to him before he comes looking for me."



With a rueful nod, he had to agree. Without another word, Faith turned and left.



Slowly, Hawke followed her back into the dining room, watching as she disappeared into the hallway before returning to the table and his friends. The food on his plate was cold, but he ate it anyway, promising himself he'd steer clear of Faith . . . of both her and Maxim. He had nothing to offer her but the anger of her soon-to-be-mate. And that was no gift at all.



Faith sat on the edge of the big leather sofa, staring at her fingernails as Maxim stood a few feet away, drilling Paenther with more questions. As she'd expected, he hadn't even noticed she'd slipped away for a few minutes.



"Why would you allow humans to live so close to Feral House?"



"We possess nearly fifteen acres of prime real estate," Paenther replied evenly.



"And force so many men and their mates to occupy a single tiny dwelling." After the reception, Maxim had changed out of his bloodstained tux and back into a white turtleneck and blazer.



Paenther growled low in his throat. "Feral House is not tiny."



Heavens, it had been like this all through dinner, too. The questions, the condescension. It was as if he thought himself too good for these people, and he wanted them to know it. All he was doing was alienating them. Every last one of them. And she was so tired of it.



Maxim crossed his arms. "It's an easy solution to buy up the surrounding properties. The homes could be used for Ferals and their wives and a proper castle erected in place of this hovel."