Authors: Pamela Palmer
“The fox line has always been intuitive.”
Paenther nodded. “Sly's intuition was sporadic, but when it was on, it was dead right.”
“Another of my predecessors?”
“The one before the Cub.” Paenther eyed Fox shrewdly. “Do you think Kara's in West Virginia?”
“I've no idea. Maybe it's a West Virginia license plate we should be looking for. Or it might be the home of my next girlfriend.” He shrugged. “It's likely nothing useful at all, but I thought I should let someone know.”
Paenther eyed him shrewdly. “And not create chaos.” Which would surely happen if Lyon thought there was a chance that he knew where Kara was. “I'll have our allies focus their attention on West Virginia.”
“Paenther . . .” He didn't want to make too much of this.
Lyon's second clasped Fox on the shoulder. “At least for now. It's something, Fox, when we've had nothing at all.”
And if it turned out to be the useless fluff it probably was?
They wouldn't be any closer to finding Kara.
T
hree hours later, after an intense workout in the gym beneath the house, Fox strode toward the stairs, sweat soaking his hair, his T-shirt plastered to his chest. Jag and Tighe had been working with him on his shifting, which he still didn't have under control. He could shift into his fox without much trouble or concentration, but the size he ended up was the problem. While many of the cat Ferals could downsize their animals, making it possible for them to pass themselves off as housecats, Fox tended to shift straight to supersize. A fox the size of a Great Dane wasn't necessarily a bad thing in battle, but it was a bit problematic if he had to shift anywhere near humans. The bottom line was, he needed to be able to control the shift, to be able to move in and out of his animal form smoothly, in the size he needed, without thought or effort. Especially with them on the verge of war.
And right now he couldn't.
Wulfe strode in the front door, looking as exhausted as he probably felt. “Any news?” Wulfe was one of the biggest of the Ferals, second only to Grizz, his face a mask of scars.
“Nothing.” Fox wasn't about to mention West Virginia. “You've been searching?”
“Tracking with my nose, yes. I was hoping to pick up a familiar scent, even just a Mage scent, but I found nothing. Lots of humans. I couldn't even scent the Mage who must have dragged Kara and Lynks into the vehicle.”
“Makes you wonder how much Lynks struggled, doesn't it?”
Wulfe nodded. “Makes me wonder if he's the one who took her.”
Fox frowned. “Maybe he was.” He told Wulfe about Hawke's revelation, that the new Ferals were all the best or the worst. “So even if he was cleared of the dark magic, if he had a black soul . . .”
“Dammit to hell,” Wulfe muttered. “Unfortunately, this doesn't change anything. It doesn't help us find her.”
The scent of pine wafted through the foyer, and a moment later, two Ilinas materialized not six feet away. Fox's wayward pulse lifted, then settled again when he saw that neither was Melisande.
The taller of the two caught sight of Wulfe and gasped, her eyes widening with something akin to revulsion. Wulfe scowled, turned, and started up the stairs.
“Cressida!” the other one hissed.
“Sorry, Phylicia!” Cressida grimaced. “He startled me. How does he have scars like that? Is he not immortal?”
“He's immortal,” Fox assured them, though he'd wondered the same about Wulfe. He turned on his charmer's smile. “And what can I do for you lovely ladies?” He'd seen Phylicia in the prisons a couple of mornings ago. Kougar had called her to attempt to clear Grizz of the darkness in the traditional, carnal, way. It had failed, though the attempt had steamed up the underground chambers.
Phylicia had watched Fox hungrily then, as she was now. Sex sirens, Kougar called them. Some, not all. As Fox eyed Phylicia's sleeveless tunic, which revealed more lush, lovely curves than it hid, he believed it. With her raven hair falling to her waist and her eyes the inhumanly bright blue of most Ilinas, she was a beauty, to be sure.
But it was another Ilina he longed to see. A blonde with sapphire eyes.
Phylicia met his smile with a sultry one of her own and sidled up to him. “I was hoping I'd run into you.” She slid her hand up his damp chest, the invitation in her eyes neon bright.
“Were you now?” He grinned, in his element. “And did you come just to see me, lovely one?”
“We've come to relieve the watch,” Cressida explained. “But we're early.” She eyed him as hungrily as Phylicia did, moving to his other side. “Phyl said you were delicious.”
“Are you busy, warrior?” Phylicia purred, running a finger just inside the waistband of his pants. Perfume burst around him, like a garden in full summer glory. The famed Ilina mating scent? Intoxicating. And yet . . .
“I was just heading up to take a shower.”
Their laughter enveloped him, sliding over him like soft hands. “We'll join you.”
Every masculine instinct he possessed urged him to agree. They were absolutely lovely and hungry for sex. But for a reason he didn't understand, he was not. Now, if one of them had been Melisande . . .
Paenther strolled into the foyer, his gaze slamming into Fox's as a smile lit the dark warrior's eyes. “That gut of yours is gold.”
Fox looked at him in surprise.
Paenther nodded with a gleam of excitement. “We've got our first good lead. War room in fifteen minutes.”
As Paenther continued through the foyer, Fox gave the lovelies each a brief squeeze, then stepped away from them. “I'm sorry, ladies. Perhaps later.”
Without a backward glance, he turned and took the stairs two at a time, his mood buoyant. As he strode down the hallway toward his bedroom, relief flowed through him warmly, pride straightening his spine. He'd given them their first lead in finding Kara. And a good one. Hot damn.
He stripped as he crossed his bedroom, then stepped into the shower in the adjoining private bathroom before the water switched from cold to warm, not about to be late for that meeting.
As he dunked his head under the cool spray, he let the grin loose. Maybe he and his gut could make a difference after all. But as he reached for the soap, his brain exploded, his vision going black.
Feck!
He reached out blindly, his palm slapping against the tile wall to keep himself from going down.
And just as suddenly, he could see again. Except . . . what he was seeing wasn't real. At least it sure as hell wasn't in his shower. It wasn't even clear, more like watching an old photograph come to life. A movie in sepia tones. A movie he was part of.
He was chained standing up, the rock rough against his bare back, the steel manacles cold against his wrists and ankles. Inside, he felt a deep, pounding . . .
misery
. A misery that turned to fury as a man walked into the unfinished, stone room.
The male was dressed in the blood red robe of the Mage elemental.
Good goddess,
was this the famed Inir? The man hardly looked the part of one of the most dangerous immortals on the planet, not with his unimpressive stature and round face, not until Fox looked into his eyes, eyes of pure copper. Eyes that gleamed with cold, soulless malice.
“The fox shifter,” the Mage said, his voice as cold as his eyes. “We meet at last. I've been hunting you for some time, did you know that?” He smiled a smile of pure evil. “Now you're mine. And soon . . .”
The sound dissipated moments before the vision faded to black. Fox found himself once more staring at the water running in rivulets down the shower tile.
His heart pounded.
Holy hell.
He'd never experienced anything like that in his life. Never. Then again, he'd been warned that new Ferals often acquired new abilities.
He dunked his head under the now-warm water. A premonition? Was that what that was? Had he just intuited his own captivity?
Mage
captivity?
Bloody fecking hell.
This was one foresight he had to make damn sure did not come true.
F
ox strode downstairs, still shaken from his premonition in the shower, to find a tense, tight little gathering in the foyer.
“It was at least a couple of hours ago,” Delaney said. Tighe stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders, as Jag, Hawke, and Kougar listened close. “Grizz wanted to know where Lyon was, and I told him I'd heard voices in his office.”
Oh feck.
Jag groaned. “If he overheard our plan . . .”
Tighe glanced at Fox as he joined them and filled him in. “Grizz and Lepard are missing, along with the Ford Escape.”
Fox grimaced. “We don't need those two on the loose with that kind of knowledge.”
“Do we just let them go?” Jag asked.
Kougar nodded. “For now.” He turned to Jag. “Rikkert is in his room. Escort him downstairs and lock him up, then meet us in the war room.”
“I'll give you a hand,” Tighe said. He kissed his mate and started up the stairs after Jag.
Kougar's gaze moved between the two remaining warriors. “We've got another new Feral flying in tonight. Two others are past due. When they arrive, take their phones and escort them downstairs.”
“Not much of a welcome,” Hawke muttered.
Kougar shook his head. “No, it's not.”
The doorbell rang. Kougar and Fox exchanged a wary look, but Hawke's face lit up. “That'll be Zeeland. He called to say he and Julianne would be stopping by.”
“Yeah?” Fox was pleased. One of the nonshifting Therians, Zeeland was a member of the British Therian Guard, of which Fox had been a part for decades.
Hawke opened the door, and Fox's old friend stepped into the foyer, accompanied by a small, attractive brunette with turquoise eyes almost as bright as an Ilina's.
Zeeland said hello to Hawke, then spotted Fox. “Kieran!” The two men greeted one another warmly. “Or is it Fox, now?”
“It's Fox, though it's hard to change names after three hundred years.”
Pleasure lit Zeeland's eyes. “I always thought you should have been one of the Ferals. I'm glad the goddess got it right.”
“I've always thought the same about you, Zee. Though I have to admit, I'm kind of glad you haven't been marked. You heard about Ewan?” Ewan had also fought with them.
Zeeland frowned. “I hear the Mage have their claws in him. Has he really gone to the dark side?”
Fox frowned, nodding. “He's under the thrall of the dark magic that infected all of the seventeen.” Ewan was one of the seventeen who Fox felt utterly certain was the one meant to be marked. But how did you prove something like that? “Unfortunately, we have to catch him before we can cure him.”
“I hope you do it soon.” Zee curved his arm around the woman's shoulders and pulled her close. “I'd like you to meet my mate, Julianne.”
Fox smiled. He'd heard Zee had taken a mate, a young beauty from one of the Washington, D.C. area enclaves.
Above, Tighe and Jag started down the stairs, Rikkert between them. Since Rikkert was accompanying them calmly, he clearly didn't have any idea why he was being led to the basement. It was just as well.
As the trio reached the foyer, Tighe clasped Rikkert on the shoulder. “We'll make introductions later, during the welcome reception. But right now, we have work to do downstairs, and you're going to help.”
Of course, there wouldn't be a welcome reception, not for Rikkert. He wouldn't be coming out of that basement anytime soon. If ever. Fox felt bad for him. How rotten to be marked to be one of the elite Feral Warriors only to discover it meant imprisonment? Maybe even death.
Fox turned his attention back to Zeeland and his bride. “So this is Julianne.” He took the woman's hand and lifted it to his lips in a gallant, old-world gesture, enjoying the freedom to charm, knowing he'd never turn her head. Mating bonds were solid.
“Did Zeeland mention me?” Julianne's smile was at once surprised, shy, and delighted, charming him in return.
“Only when he was in his cups, and then he droned on and on about the beauteous Julianne, his sunshine, too young, etc., etc.” He winked at her. “I take it you are no longer too young.”
“I'm not.” She cut Zee a smile laced with exasperation. “I haven't been for five years.”
“Five years?” Fox's gaze went from one to the other. “He didn't tell me that.”
“I was an idiot,” Zeeland said, pulling Julianne closer. “But she's mine now, and I'm never leaving her again.” The look that passed between the pair was filled with such a depth of tenderness that Fox almost felt compelled to look away. Another fool risking all for love.
“So,” Fox said, breaking the spell. “What brings you here?”
Both Zee's and Julianne's expressions changed, rippling with a tension that surprised him.
“Julianne is here to meet Ariana.”
Fox cocked his head, suspicion leaping. “You have the look of an Ilina,” he murmured.
Julianne blanched.
Fox watched her, mortified. “I said the wrong thing.”
Zeeland pulled his mate closer, but he shook his head. “No. It's the truth and no longer the secret it once was. Julianne is one-quarter Ilina.”
Fox started with surprise. “I didn't know they . . . had babies.” The legends claimed that the all-female race reproduced through magic, their maidens born fully grown and ready to take their place in Ilina society.
“They don't, usually. It's very, very rare for an Ilina to conceive. Rarer still for one to give birth.” Zeeland's mouth hardened. “When Julianne was nine, her parents were killed in cold blood, leaving her an orphan. A few months ago, the same Ilina tried to drag us into the Crystal Realm to suffer the same fate.”
Fox stared at him, his brows drawing down.
“Why?”
“Because everyone still thought them extinct, and we learned the truth. They killed to keep their secret.”
Fox tried to imagine one of those petite, pretty mist warriors taking life in cold blood. The sweet Cressida. The sultry Phylicia. The cold-eyed Melisande . . .
A chill of understanding skated over his scalp. It was Melisande.
Julianne's mouth compressed. “Kougar says that Ariana didn't sanction the killing of my parents. She didn't even know about it until very recently. She's been asking to meet me.” She frowned prettily. “I need to understand my heritage. I need to know who I am.”
“I'm not sure how much time Ariana will have today,” Hawke said. “We've just received our first good lead on Kara. I'm sure we'll be heading out soon.”
“Then perhaps my arrival is timely,” Zeeland said. “If the Ferals need backup, I'm available.”
Kougar stepped forward. “We could use you, Zeeland.” He greeted Zee with his usual reserve, then surprised Fox by leaning down to give Julianne a kiss on the cheek. “You have nothing to fear, Julianne. Ariana is as nervous about meeting you as you are her. Your introduction to your heritage was a poor one.”