Hunger Untamed (27 page)

Authors: Pamela Palmer

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction, #Paranormal, #General

Every time FBI agent Delaney Randall closes her eyes, she suffers yet another nightmare. A brutal serial killer has found his way inside her head, and she lives each murder through his soulless eyes. Tighe, a dangerous Feral Warrior, needs Delaney and her visions to help stop the rampages of an evil fiend. As the two join forces, Tighe--who has little use for humans--falls for the intense beauty and becomes wild with an obsession as untamed as his heart . . .

"I'm not getting married without underwear. Or without my gun. Not with wild animals on the loose."

He took a step toward her, his mouth compressing dangerously. "You'll do whatever I tell you to do."

She threw the gown on the floor. "Go to hell."

He lunged for her, grabbed her arm, and hauled her roughly against him. "I don't like this any better than you do, but it's either bind yourself to me or die. I gave you the choice already. You chose this. You chose me."

"I was delirious."

His jaw went hard as he released her with one hand and flicked open a switchblade three inches from her face.

"It's not too late to change your mind." The tightness of his mouth spoke of barely leashed violence, but in the agitated flutter of those angel wings in her head she sensed an unhappiness as raw as her own. He was being forced to tie himself to a woman he didn't love.

No, not forced.

He could have let her die.

Her fury ebbed as her heart began to ache for him almost as much as herself. "Would you really kill me?" she asked quietly. She already knew the answer.

The anger drained out of him as he retracted the blade and shoved it back in his pocket.

"No." He released her along with a sigh that echoed with pain. "But if you won't go through with this, I'll have no choice but to step aside while someone else does. The survival of our race is too important." He shook his head. "Not just to us. If we die, there will be no one left to keep the Daemons from returning. Imagine thousands of creatures terrorizing the human population. Creatures worse than my twin. A dozen times worse."

She shuddered and stared at him, her mind struggling to accept round after round of evidence that the world was so much more complex than she'd thought. "So I really don't have a choice?"

His mouth turned rueful. "You really don't."

"But you do. A human death can't mean that much to you. Why bind yourself to me when you could have let me die? When you don't want me?"

His mouth turned up in a wry half smile. "Who says I don't want you?"

As she stared at him, he bent down and picked up the gown, then met her gaze again, his expression softening just a little. "Come on, D. Let's get this over with."

It wasn't quite the marriage proposal she'd dreamed of, but there had been something in his expression, something in his words that eased the ache inside her. Not much, but maybe it was enough. Especially since she clearly didn't have a choice.

"I need to get cleaned up."

He handed her the gown and nodded toward a door in the corner. "Bathroom's in there. I'll see if I can find you a brush or something."

She nodded and took the gown from him. As he started to turn away, she stopped him. "Tighe?"

He turned back to her.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For not letting me die."

His gaze seemed to search hers for several moments, then he lifted his hand and traced her cheekbone with his thumb in a feather-light touch. "You're welcome." Then he turned away.

Passion Untamed

Though the Mage witch Skye has a gentle heart, demonic forces have enslaved her, forcing her to kidnap Paenther, a powerful and dangerous immortal. Even chained and naked, he is a cunning prisoner who seduces her, turning captive into captor. Despite Paenther's fury over her treachery, Skye's gentle beauty calls to his soul, calming the wild chaos within. But when evil threatens, their only chance at survival is to trust in one another . . . and the power of love.

Paenther scented violets even before the witch stepped into the room. She returned without her animals, her hair wet as if she'd just showered, her eyes hollow. Without a word, without meeting his gaze, she crawled up beside him, between his body and the wall, and lay down, curling against his hip. He could feel her trembling.

As much as he hated her, he'd always had finely honed protective instincts toward women and children, and they rose now. Something had hurt her. He reminded himself he didn't care. But as he felt her slowly calm, her breathing evening out in sleep, the tension eased from his own body.

He wasn't sure when he'd drifted off, but he woke to the sound of water dripping from the stalactites into the puddles scattered across the room and the feel of the witch's silken head on his chest. She had one arm wrapped around his waist, the other hand tucked against her neck. That second arm was nearly within reach of his mouth. But he'd lost the desire to hurt her. Her gentle touch and her acceptance of his fury had taken the edge off his need for revenge.

He blinked, feeling . . . strange. Almost . . . relaxed.

With disbelief he realized what was wrong. Or what was right. The rage, the ever-present rage he struggled to contain day and night, the rage burned into his soul by Ancreta nearly three hundred years ago, had inexplicably left him.

How?
Was this simply more magic?

Did he care?

Chained atop this cold stone, deep in the bowels of a second Mage captivity, he felt more at peace than he had in years. Eased. Whole in a way he hadn't felt in centuries.

Had she somehow, miraculously healed him? Or was her nearness affecting him in a way he'd never imagined anyone could?

The implications rocked him. He almost hoped it was just enchantment. Just a lie. Because if it wasn't, if this easing of the torment he'd lived with for centuries was somehow coming from her . . .

A witch.

Heaven help him. The last thing he wanted was to need her. More than he did already.

Rapture Untamed

The most combative and tormented of the Ferals, Jag is a predator who hunts alone. But when daemons terrorize the human population he partners with Olivia, a flame-haired Therian temptress as strong as she is beautiful. As their sensual dance heats up, a dark force sets its sights on Olivia, threatening to destroy everything she's vowed to protect--and the only one who can save her is the arrogant shifter she lusts for but dares not love.

"Did you love him?"

"You know the answer to that. As a friend, yes, but you know I didn't return the feelings he had for me." Her elbow slammed into his solar plexus. "But so help me, if you think I shouldn't care that he's dead . . ." Her heel drove hard into his knee. "If you think I can just forget the sight of that monster stripping his face away one strip of flesh at a time . . ." Her voice cracked. "So help me, Jag, I'm going to beat your cold ass to hell and back."

The bed collapsed beneath them with a crash. He rolled onto his feet, but Olivia followed, spinning and slamming her heel into his knee again, splintering his kneecap. With a roar, he collapsed onto his other knee just as the door burst open wide.

Tighe and Wulfe pushed inside, then halted in the doorway, staring at the wreckage of the bed, him on his knees, blood running down his face and his fire demon of a partner standing over him about to drive her elbow into his skull.

Jag grinned. Goddess, but he loved a strong woman. He wiped the blood from his mouth and gave Tighe a jaunty salute.

Olivia whirled on the pair in the doorway, her eyes blazing with unholy fire. "Unless you want to join the fight, get the hell out of here."

Tighe lifted his hands in quick surrender. "I'm gone."

Wulfe, the bastard, grinned. "Don't kill him."

The respite had given his knee a chance to heal. As Wulfe pulled the door closed behind him, Jag shot to his feet, ready for another round. He loved a good fight, and this one had gotten his blood pumping, and at the same time given him an outlet for the awful tension that had been riding him ever since that goat fuck of a battle.

But Olivia's eyes showed no such relief. Deep in those gray depths, he could see her shattering. His heart clenched in his chest as he understood. She fought the grief and her own emotions more than she fought him. And while he'd gladly let her beat the crap out of him if it helped her, he could see it wasn't helping at all.

The emotion needed another way out. The sheen in her eyes told him that.

She launched herself at him again, but even as she did, tears began to run down her cheeks, seeming to make her madder. He let her get in a couple of good punches, then he grabbed her in a bear hug and pressed her face against his chest as she struggled.

"Let it out, Liv," he said quietly. "You're not going to get rid of it until you give in. Just let it out."

She fought him a moment more, her fists pummeling his shoulders until the storm overtook her. Sobs wracked her small body, her fists opening, her fingers clinging to him as grief swept her away.

He felt a deep and sudden need to comfort her and didn't have a clue how to do it. He'd always been great at causing anger. Soothing raging emotions was beyond him. He could always use the calming touch of his hand, but he sensed that wasn't what she needed right now. She needed to get it out.

He patted her back awkwardly.

She buried her face tighter against him, clinging to him harder, as if his attempts weren't that awkward at all.

He lifted his hand and cupped her small head, holding it tight against him. Deep inside his chest, he felt a cracking of the ice that had for so long encased his heart.

He didn't want that. Didn't need it. But even as the thought went through his head, his arms enclosed her in a vise of a protective cage through which nothing would ever harm her again.

By Pamela Palmer

H
UNGER
U
NTAMED

R
APTURE
U
NTAMED

P
ASSION
U
NTAMED

O
BSESSION
U
NTAMED

D
ESIRE
U
NTAMED

Excerpts from
Desire Untamed, Obsession Obtained, Passion Untamed, Rapture Untamed
copyright (c) 2009, 2010 by Pamela Poulsen

ISBN 978-0-06-179471-1

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