Ariana's eyes speared him with fury. She was dressed again in medical scrubs, a black sweater over them this time. The clothing might be drab, but there was nothing plain about the woman wearing them. Her dark hair was up in a casual knot, her slender neck exposed and beckoning. Goddess how he'd loved to kiss her neck, to trail his mouth and tongue over the silken length from her shoulder to her ear, feeling her shiver, hearing the soft moan of pleasure in her throat.
Would this woman without a soul react to his touch the way his beloved had? Goddess, did he really want to know? No, he didn't. He wanted only one thing from her, and that was the rescue of his friends.
But as she watched him with hard, wary eyes, her mouth and chin stony, he knew it was going to be a battle all the way. He could hardly appeal to her compassion, not when the woman possessed none. Not anymore.
The cougar inside him leaped like an overeager pup, as if he longed to be free to race to her and lick her face. As if she were truly Kougar's mate and not some soulless look-alike.
She's not ours, Cat. She hasn't been for centuries.
"Release me, Kougar." Her eyes snared him, piercing in their intensity, even behind the brown contacts. He felt them stabbing, probing. Stroking the places deep inside him that had yearned for her for too long.
"Leave, Jag."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jag rise lazily to his feet. "Just when things were getting interesting." But the shifter turned off the television, picked up his drill, and sauntered to the front door, closing it behind him.
Pulled by forces beyond his control, Kougar moved slowly toward Ariana, drawn against his will. His body throbbed with alternate bursts of cold and heat, his newly awakened emotions ping-ponging between hatred and a need to touch her that tore at every shred of control he possessed.
Closing the distance between them, he watched her, noting the shadows of thoughts and emotions she tried to hide. Her breathing was as unsteady as his own, a pulse kicking at the base of her throat. Though her anger was written all over her face, in her eyes he saw worry, dark hunger, and rank exhaustion. But no true fear. Which told him that pounding pulse was all for him. That the need he felt to touch her wasn't one-sided.
Which was good, very good, since the only way he knew to force her to turn to mist was to arouse her to it. To make her lose all control.
He grabbed her jaw, and his cat made a low growl of approval.
"Let go of me," Ariana hissed, her eyes flashing like those of a cornered beast ready to strike.
"No."
His hand shook as he held her jaw, her scent rising to ensnare him in sensual memories and painful longing. She was turning him inside out. His Ariana, yet not. She smelled the same, looked the same--or she would once she took those contacts out. She felt the same beneath his hand. But she wasn't the woman he'd loved.
Goddess, he needed to get away from her. To forget her.
But first, she was going to save his friends.
He tightened his grip. "Why do you think you can't turn to mist? What's the matter with you?"
She jerked her chin as if trying to dislodge his grip, her eyes flashing at him. "Dark spirit slowly eats away an Ilina from the inside out. Didn't you know?"
Kougar studied her. Melisande had said as much, but his instincts now, as then, told him there was more to it.
"You can turn to mist, Ariana. You're going to."
"No."
Again that flash of . . . defiance? Desperation?
He didn't want to see it.
Her mouth tightened, the full, unpainted mouth he'd dreamed of for a thousand years. His arms ached to pull her closer, yet his mind rebelled. She wasn't the woman he'd loved!
His cat clawed at him, urging him to claim her.
Ariana stared at him, flaying him with her gaze even as she began to tremble beneath his hand. Her nostrils flared as she took a shuddering breath. Heat sparked in her eyes, igniting an inferno inside him.
He was losing the battle. "I have to taste you."
Her jaw tightened as if part of her wanted to object, but another part wouldn't let her say the words.
It wouldn't have mattered anyway. He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers. The feel of her lips against his, the achingly familiar taste of her released a floodgate of need and grief and desperate longing. At that moment, it didn't matter who she was, what she was. Ariana was back in his arms, her mouth opening beneath his, her tongue welcoming the desperate stroke of his own.
Her taste wasn't quite right. How he knew that after all this time, he didn't know, but didn't question. She still tasted as she always had, of crystal streams and summer nights, but overlying the sultry sweetness was another taste. A taste of darkness, and darkness had a taste all its own. A sharpness, a tang that was not unpleasant. But then darkness was often all too seductive.
His hands framed her face, his fingers weaving into her hair as he feasted on her mouth. His senses swam, his heart breaking. The feel of her beneath his hands, the taste of her kiss, the scent of her hair all rushed together, swamping him with memories, pummeling him with so many emotions he couldn't make sense of any of them.
His hands began to shake, a deep quaking setting up inside him. How many times had he dreamed of having her in his arms again, of feeling her lips against his, her small breasts pressed against him? How many times had he longed to taste her kiss just one more time? To watch her spread her thighs and welcome him into her body? His Ariana. His woman. His mate.
But she wasn't, was she?
His
Ariana--his bright, beautiful Ariana with the shining soul was not in his arms.
He tore his mouth from hers, released her, and stepped back. His hands were still shaking, his world tilting precariously. Whirling away from her, he strode to the window with harsh strides, his chest feeling like it was about to implode.
Goddess, he needed this over. He needed this woman . . . this
thing . . .
out of his life.
Pressing his hands to the window frame, he dipped his head and took deep, unsteady breaths. Every instinct he possessed told him to go, to get the hell out of there before she destroyed what was left of his sanity.
But he'd come for a reason. He had to force her capitulation, force her to enter the spirit trap. That was all that mattered.
Slowly, he turned back to face her. She watched him with eyes as deep as the darkest well, her mouth damp and full from his kisses. His body tightened, desire eclipsing everything else. He hated her. But, goddess, he wanted her.
He strode to her as he'd left her, his strides long and angry, but when he gripped her face this time, his fingers were steady. "I'm going to . . . fuck . . . this body of yours." He'd almost said
make love to
, but there was no love involved. Not anymore.
She swallowed visibly, the pulse pounding in her throat. But she didn't deny it.
He squeezed her jaw. "You're going to turn to mist, Ariana."
"If I do, I'll just escape you."
His grip tightened. "I'm aware of that. But then you'll return and help my friends, because if you don't, I'll give away your secret. I'll tell the immortal world you still exist."
She paled, and he felt a moment's hesitation as that old, fierce protectiveness tried to rise.
"You can't. You can't betray me, Kougar. The mating bond won't allow it."
He shoved off the protectiveness, reminding himself she wasn't the woman he'd loved, ignoring his cat's hiss of denial. "I'll find a way, never doubt that. And when I do, you soulless bitch, I'll destroy you and yours. I swear it. Unless you help me."
Her gaze never wavered from his. Shadows of fear slid through her eyes, then dissipated, replaced by a weariness that almost plucked at his sympathy.
"Do your worst, Kougar." Her words throbbed with exhaustion. Defiance, he would have understood, but not this. His threat hadn't hit its mark. Why not? Because she didn't believe he could betray her? Or because she truly didn't believe he could make her turn to mist?
The latter sent a frisson of fear skating down his spine. If he couldn't make her turn, his friends were dead.
Falling. Falling.
Hawke felt as if he'd been tumbling for hours, perhaps even days. One minute he'd been digging the heart out of one of the Daemon's throats, the next, the ground had fallen away, the earth opening to swallow him in a swirling red vortex.
He'd lost all sense of feeling, of sight, of sound. And the sense that he'd never landed was messing with his mind.
As was the fact that he had no idea where he was. Or how to get out. Inside him, his hawk let out a fierce and angry cry, clearly not liking this any more than he was.
Tighe had been right there beside him as the earth opened. Had he, too, fallen?
Tighe? Tighe! Lyon? Anyone?
They'd only be able to hear his telepathic call if they were in their animals. Would he be able to hear them if they responded? He couldn't even feel his body, though he knew his heart must be pounding, rivulets of sweat running down his neck. Everything primal inside him roared with a need to escape this forbidding darkness.
But he refused to panic. The same thing had happened inside the Mage stronghold in Harpers Ferry, from what he'd heard. Those Ferals who'd been caught inside had been unable to communicate with anyone. But they'd gotten free, and he had to believe he would, too.
Goddess help him if there was a Daemon in here as there had been in that other place.
Goddess help them all if the other Ferals had fallen, too. He'd only seen Tighe go down, but that didn't mean others hadn't been caught.
If only he could feel his body. Feel
something.
He got his wish as sudden, searing pain tore through his mind. Not an external attack, but a pain that originated from within and radiated outward like a bomb going off in his brain.
Even as he ground his teeth against the raw agony, he welcomed the proof that he was still alive.
Sounds brushed his mind, the odd sound of a horse's whinny, and the growl of what sounded like a bear. Farther away, he heard other animal sounds. The low roar of a jungle cat and the cry of another bird of prey.
He listened with confusion until realization dawned.
Animal spirits
. Icy shock splayed across his mind.
The spirit trap
. The very trap that had swallowed the seventeen.
His heart stuttered. It wasn't possible. The seventeen had disappeared in Scotland, not West Virginia. But what if that vortex hadn't been the trap itself but a wormhole to the original?
Dread curled deep in his mind.
Ferals didn't come out of spirit traps alive.
The seventeen had walked into one centuries ago and died, their bodies spit out days later. Their animals had never again returned to mark another.
Now he knew why.
The animal spirits were still here.
And if he and Tighe didn't find a way to escape, their animals were about to meet that same terrible fate.
Ariana's pulse pounded as Kougar's powerful body, dressed in all black, crowded hers, not quite touching her, but close enough that his heat called to her on the most primitive level.
She stood with her back pressed against her living-room wall, manacled, her body flushed and ready, desperate for the feel of him inside her even as her careening emotions threatened to sweep her away. The thought of him taking her in anger, in hatred, destroyed something inside her, yet on a purely physical level, her body reacted to his as it always had. Opening, turning moist and hot. She wanted him. Desperately.
That kiss
. . .
She'd almost forgotten what it was like to be gripped by the powerful essence, the passion, that was Kougar, caught in the vise of his strength, drowning in his warm, masculine scent, a scent she'd never forgotten.
His kiss had left her shaking, bringing back all those old feelings in a rush of memory. A pleasure that rushed through her body, opening her, strengthening her, making her blood sing and her body long for his. But the storm of feelings he'd dredged up were so much more complicated.
She'd loved this man with an intensity that had left her blind to the danger, to anything but keeping him in her arms. It was that love for him, the insanity of their being together, that had brought such destruction. Such death. Such catastrophic joy.
He watched her, his pale eyes burning with a cold, carnal light as he plotted her seduction.
I'm going to fuck this body of yours,
he'd said. A chill danced over her skin, a fear that he'd see her bracelet. Because she was all too afraid he knew about red moonstones, that they kept an Ilina from turning to mist. If Kougar saw her cuff, he'd be furious.
Which meant she had to make certain he was too focused on getting inside her to notice anything else. Her true goal was to get him to free her hands. And the moment he did? She'd call on the transport magic woven into that cuff and be gone.
He reached for her, his fingertips trailing down her neck, sliding slowly, sensuously with a gentleness she knew he didn't feel. But the memory of how he'd once touched her in just this way, with aching tenderness, sparked a longing inside her for those lost days. The feel of his warm fingers on her skin sent tremors of desire vibrating down into her body.
He'd always given her such pleasure. She needed that again. The mere thought of his thick erection sliding inside her had her body melting,
wanting
. Five minutes in his company, and all she could think of was taking him inside her again.
But not like this, not for the reason he intended. Always in the past, as she'd climaxed around his swollen shaft, as he'd pumped his seed inside her, she'd turned to mist. It had been glorious for them both, a true melding of body and spirit.
That's all he wanted from her, now. To force her to turn to mist. He had no feelings for her anymore. Goddess, he thought she was soulless. He hated her.
And he'd hate her even more when he realized she would never save his friends.
Watching her with those pale eyes, he dipped his head, his mouth replacing his hand, his warm lips caressing her sensitive neck, his soft beard tickling her skin. She shivered, the need growing. As if he sensed her weakening, he grasped her waist, his hands sliding beneath her shirt, his fingers cool against the heat of her skin.
She inhaled deeply, arching at the delicious touch of him. Goddess, she had to get control. Already, her breathing was turning shallow, her breasts aching for the feel of his hands. Or mouth.
Think, Ariana. Seduce him
. Seduction came as easily as breathing to an Ilina. Pleasure--her own and others'--was a necessary source of strength for a mist warrior. The challenge was to avoid falling into the seduction herself.
"Let me see you." Her voice sounded husky even to her own ears. "I want to see you, Kougar." At the thought of him removing his clothes, her body began to give off the mating scent few immortal males, and no human, could resist.
His eyes darkened. Her own quick glance below his waist told her his body was more than ready.
Behind her contacts, her eyes began to tingle in a way that told her they'd started to sparkle with sexual heat--another natural seduction she hadn't felt in far too long. There'd been no one in a millennium whom she'd wanted to seduce. But her eyes would do little to attract him hidden, as they were, behind the contacts she'd worn for years in the unlikely event she stumbled into the path of an immortal who might recognize her too-blue eyes for what they were--Ilina eyes.
"Release one of my hands, Kougar. My contacts are growing uncomfortable."
"No." The word came out rough, little more than a growl. "Leave them in." His own eyes had turned silver, his pupils dilated. His breaths were becoming as shallow as her own.
It was a game they both played, now. Maintain as much control as possible while seducing the other. It was a game he wouldn't win. But could she?
"Let me see you, Kougar," she said huskily. "Take off your shirt for me."
He ignored her, his mouth moving lower, to the flesh bared by the vee neck of her scrubs. His hands rose beneath her shirt, his fingers brushing against her abdomen, then sliding up and over her breasts to claim them. The feel of his hands on her, cupping her, squeezing her, had her arching into his touch and gasping with true pleasure.
He released her suddenly, and she made a sound of dismay before she could stop herself, then quieted, holding her breath when he reached behind her to unfasten her bra. A moment later, he pushed the lacy garment up and out of his way, covering her breasts, skin to skin, her sensitive nipples brushing the rough curve of his palms.
Her head tipped back at the achingly right feel of his touch. She reveled in the roughness of that touch, which revealed his own growing need. He dipped his head, pushing her shirt out of his way with an impatient tug, and sucked the fullness of one hungry breast deep into his mouth.
Ariana moaned, her hips rocking, her body hot and wet, burning to be filled by this man whose touch she'd missed so desperately. "Kougar . . ."
Still suckling her breast, he grasped the waistband of her pants with hands as unsteady as the pounding of her heart and pushed them down over her hips. With a low growl, he released her breast, meeting her gaze with eyes like hot steel before he stepped back and turned his attention to her feet. With quick, efficient movements, he pulled off her shoes and socks, then yanked her pants down her legs and off.
She stood shaking before him, wanting what he was about to give even as her heart rebelled.
His breathing shallow and erratic, he rose and met her gaze again, a rich, carnal promise in his eyes. And a hard determination that told her that he was still firmly in control. Ripping that control from him was never going to happen. This was his game, his experiment--to see if he could make her turn to mist.
And he was going to fail.
But oh how her body looked forward to the trial, even as her heart ached at the callousness of it. She longed to tell him the truth--that she'd never lost her soul. That she loved him still and always had.
But the truth was far too dangerous. All she could do was play this out and keep him safe, the wreckage of her heart a price she gladly paid.
The breaths tore into Kougar's lungs, the oxygen barely reaching his brain as all the blood in his body pulsed and throbbed between his legs. He pressed his pelvis against hers, a hiss tearing between his teeth at the damp heat he swore he could feel even through the fabric of his pants. As if his cat had taken over, he found himself rubbing his cheek against her hair, marking her with his scent even as her own scent made his blood pound a deep, thunderous beat.
He was losing control.
He'd meant to excite Ariana to release, taking her with his fingers or his mouth, forcing her to turn to mist, proving to them both that she could--that she was either a liar or, at the very least, mistaken. But the moment he'd started to touch her, his need for her--for the woman she used to be--crashed over him like a pent-up wave.
He had to get this over with to prove his point and secure her cooperation. Then he'd be done with her once and for all. But his body wanted more. His cat growled at him to claim her completely, to make her his again as she'd once been. And the soft feelings he'd lived with for so long demanded that if this was the only time her body was to be his again, he savor every moment.
It was a mistake to give in, he knew that. The more he tasted her, the more he touched her, the more he remembered. And the deeper the pain corkscrewed into his heart that this wasn't the Ariana he wanted.
Nothing would bring his love back to him. Joining with her fully would only drive that fact home. But he could touch her. He could see her. And, dammit, he needed to see her--the queen, not the nurse. His glorious Ariana. One last time.
Drawing claws, he ripped her shirt down the middle, then her bra. Then he shredded the sweater and shirt from shoulders to wrists in one quick move that left her skin unscathed. As he reached her right wrist, his claws clinked against metal, a bracelet of some sort.
With a quick tug of destroyed fabrics, he bared her from the waist up.
Her breasts lifted on a gasp as she stood before him in nothing but a scrap of white lace panties and the silver bracelet winking at her wrist.
His chest contracted, his heart taking a hammerblow as he stared at the body of the woman he'd loved for so long, this body he'd once known every inch of, every freckle, every taste.
She was glorious. More beautiful even than he remembered, her breasts perfectly shaped, her waist small, her hips sweetly rounded, and her legs lithe and shapely. He'd loved touching her in bygone days. Loved trailing his lips and tongue over every inch of the skin now revealed to his hungry eyes. How he longed to kiss her shoulder, trailing his lips down her arm, over the curve of her elbow, all the way to her wrist. . .
He stilled as his gaze, which had been following his thoughts, snagged on that bracelet. A silver cuff set with . . .
red moonstones.
Fury stirred as a growl rumbled in his chest.
"Kougar, wait!"
"You
bitch.
" Moonstones kept an Ilina from turning to mist. No wonder she was so certain he couldn't turn her. She'd have convinced him she couldn't help, then disappeared on him yet again. Leaving his friends to die.
He grabbed for the bracelet.
"Kougar, don't!"
With a single furious move, he unsnapped the manacle that bound her to the wall, pried open the offending bracelet, and tossed it across the room.
"No!" A desperate horror sliced through Ariana's voice, her skin turning suddenly, deathly pale. "The cuff." Her eyes clutched at him, wide and terrified. "I'll tell you everything. Just give me the cuff!"
Kougar stared at her, part of him wanting her to suffer as he was suffering. Another part of him, driven by the cat inside him, desperate to protect her from whatever was causing her such distress.
Even knowing what she was, the sight of her anguish was a blade twisting in his gut. With a frustrated burst of air, he went to retrieve the bracelet from the rug by the foot of the sofa.
Returning to her, he clasped it back around her wrist. At once, the tension left her on a shuddering sigh as she collapsed against the wall behind her, eyes closed. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," she murmured, the litany, a desperate mantra.
He kept hold of her wrist, suspecting the bracelet held the transport magic she'd used to escape him before, and he wasn't letting her go again. Not until he knew what the hell was going on.
Suddenly, she stiffened, her eyes flying open, eyes filled with shock and terror.
"Ariana." Though one manacle kept her chained to the wall, he grabbed her as her knees gave way beneath her. "Tell me."
Her gaze lifted to his, her eyes deep wells of horror. "
He knows.
" A tense quaking invaded her body.
Kougar felt like he'd walked into the middle of a movie he knew nothing about. He lifted his hand, cupping her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Who knows, Ariana?"
"I have to get to my maidens, Kougar. They're in danger." Her voice trembled, her eyes almost wild. "You have to let me go!"
"Tell me what's going on."
She struggled against his hold, thrashing wildly. "Let me go!"
Inside, his cat yowled with distress. His gut knotted at the anguish in her eyes. But if he let her go now, he might lose his only chance to save Hawke and Tighe. He couldn't be certain where she'd go. And if it wasn't the Crystal Realm, he wouldn't be able to follow.
He tightened his grip on her jaw, forcing her to look at him. A sheen of perspiration dampened her too-pale skin. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on, Ariana."
He waited as she struggled to pull herself together though her breaths remained ragged, and her lips pressed together with a faint tremble that told him she was close to tears. She blinked hard, pulled in a shuddering breath, and met his gaze.
"Who knows?" he prompted quietly.