And, goddess help her, she didn't want to.

Chapter Two

Hawke lifted a bare forearm and swiped away a fat bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he picked up his pace on the treadmill in the basement of Feral House. He'd been down here all night, lifting weights, running, working every muscle in his body over and over again while his brothers prowled the rocky banks of the nearby Potomac River, fighting the draden that swarmed near Feral House. Exercise was the only outlet that remained for the pent-up frustration, the anger that had come to haunt his every waking moment.

Five days ago, he'd regained consciousness, escaping the darkness of the spirit trap. An escape that had been incomplete. The rage that had nearly consumed him inside the spirit trap remained, a seething anger that sprang to life at the slightest provocation. An anger that wasn't his own, but the hawk spirit's, as if the animal blamed him for getting them stuck down there and nearly wrenched apart.

The fury waited, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation, the faintest hint of annoyance or frustration. Then the red haze would rise, clouding his vision, and, though he'd struggle to control it, he lost more often than not. Things got broken, flesh got torn if anyone was close enough to feel the rip of his claws. And he usually ended up shifting involuntarily into his hawk. Ferals shifted at will, with ease, retaining their human minds while in their animal bodies. But that was no longer the case for him. When he shifted now, on purpose or accidentally, he tumbled back into that dark fury for hours at a time.

It was as if the hawk spirit took over, leaving him behind, unconscious, until the hawk decided to return control. Hawke came back to awareness sitting on top of a barn or high in a tree every damn time he shifted. So he was left with nothing to do but spend his days and nights working to control the rage. He was useless. Worse than useless. He was a danger to everyone around him.

Hawke turned off the treadmill and grabbed a couple of free weights, pumping iron until he cooled down.

Out of nowhere, pain ripped across his brain, slamming into the insides of his skull and crawling, like jagged fingers of lightning. Kkkeeeeer. The hawk screeched as if it, too, felt that god-awful pain. But even as the first blast faded, a second began, like talons raking at his brain, as if the hawk inside him retaliated, punishing him.

"I'm not doing it on purpose!" he growled at the damned bird spirit.

Slowly, the talons released their hold on his mind, the pain sliding away. The connection between him and his animal had been damaged, without a doubt, but he and his bird had never had an easy relationship. The animal spirit had always demanded a freedom Hawke had never been willing to give him. His father, the previous hawk shifter, used to say that his animal wasn't like the cats. It needed to take the reins at times, or it got cranky. And his father had done just that, given the hawk his head, disappearing sometimes for hours, even days, on a wild flight.

For years after Hawke was marked, the hawk had demanded that kind of freedom from him, too, but Hawke had always refused. He wasn't giving in to that kind of wildness again. Not after what happened to Aren.

The hawk spirit had never entirely forgiven him. But they'd always worked together well enough. Until the spirit trap. Now Hawke was beginning to think they'd become rivals. Perhaps even enemies.

Goddess help them both.

He set down the weights and retreated to the gym shower, where a spray of cold water cooled down his body though doing little to ease the frustration that had become his constant companion. As he dried off, the sound of footsteps on the stairs reached him - a Feral's tread accompanied by a lighter, more feminine step. Kara's, no doubt. She searched him out at least twice every day.

Moving quickly, he pulled on a clean pair of sweatpants before she reached him. Not that he really needed to. Half the Ferals couldn't keep their clothes on when they shifted, and all were naturally comfortable in the nude. Any woman living at Feral House saw naked males. It was unavoidable. But Kara's cheeks still flushed occasionally at the sight, telling Hawke her human upbringing was still too firmly rooted. The last thing he wanted was to cause her, or any of his brothers' mates, discomfort.

He met them as they entered the gym - Kara with Lyon close behind. Hawke had made his brothers promise that none of the women would come near him without an escort. And none of the Ferals had been inclined to object.

Kara, dressed in pink flannel pants and a camisole that looked like sleepwear, strode to him on bare feet, her blond ponytail swaying softly behind her, blue eyes warm with affection and concern. Sweet and courageous, she was their Radiant, the one woman in all the world who could pull from the Earth the energies the Ferals needed in order to access the power of their animals.

As Kara wrapped an arm around his bare waist, he pulled her tight against his side, relishing the feel of her warm body against his, feeding the need for touch all Therians possessed.

Lyon greeted him with a Feral handshake. "Feeling any better?"

"I am now."

Lyon's mouth twitched. "Don't get too comfortable."

Hawke smiled. "As if she'd let me." He adored Kara. They all did. But the love between her and Lyon, their chief, was a powerful force that both awed and lifted. He dreamed of loving a woman like that someday. Or he had. Before he'd become a danger to anyone within striking distance of his claws.

"How are you really?" Kara pulled back, her gaze soft and worried. Though she worked her magic on him twice a day, giving him radiance, she'd yet to heal him.

He shrugged. "I haven't spontaneously shifted in nearly twenty-four hours."

Lyon nodded, twisting Kara's ponytail around his hand in an absent gesture that spoke of deep and easy affection.

Kara studied Hawke. "Has anything set you off?"

"Frustration, but I've managed to rein it in before it got out of control. I'm getting better at controlling it."

"Good. It's a start." She clasped her hands in front of her. "How about some radiance? The stronger you are, the better you'll be able to control it. I hope."

Hawke nodded. "Is it dawn already?"

"Almost," Lyon told him. "The hunting party just got back."

"Isn't this the day the new fox arrives?"

"It is." Lyon's voice echoed with relief. "He'll be here this afternoon."

The last fox shifter had died only a month ago, the victim of a Mage plot to infiltrate Feral House and destroy the nine Feral Warriors. When one shifter died, the animal spirit flew to the strongest Therian with that animal's shifter DNA and marked him to be the next Feral Warrior. The Therian would find a set of what looked like long-healed claw marks somewhere on his body and he'd begin to need radiance, instinct driving him to seek Feral House and the Radiant, no matter where in the world he lived. If he failed to reach the Radiant within a couple of years, he'd die, and another would be marked.

"Ready?" Without waiting for his reply, Kara closed her eyes and lifted her arms gracefully. Almost at once, her flesh erupted in a brilliant, sun-bright glow that made the light from the overhead fluorescents pale in contrast. Outside, she'd been known to turn the backyard from night to day. Never had a Radiant been able to pull the Earth's energies through solid structures as Kara could.

She opened her eyes and arms, reaching for Hawke with one hand and Lyon with the other. Though she strengthened them and empowered them simply by living in proximity to them, this direct line to the energies provided a jolt of power none of them ever refused.

Hawke slid his hand into Kara's glowing one. At once, a warm flow rushed into him, a pure strength straight from the Earth itself. Inside, he felt the hawk calm and settle as if lifting its face to the sun.

For long minutes, they remained like that, soaking up the power. Finally, Kara's light went out, and she released him, a small smile on her face.

Hawke leaned forward and kissed her temple. "Thank you."

Her eyes met his, warm with affection. "I'll give you radiance anytime, you know that. Whatever you need."

Lyon's hand landed softly on the top of Kara's head, but his gaze met Hawke's. "You've been down here all night." It wasn't a question. "You need food and sleep."

Hawke's mouth kicked up. "Everyone thinks he's a doctor, now."

No answering smile lifted Lyon's mouth. "We need you healed."

"I know," Hawke replied quietly. The Ferals were too few against an enemy that was growing too strong. The Daemons the Mage were trying to free would prey upon humans and immortals alike, feeding on pain and fear until there was no place on Earth to escape the screams. The Ferals had to stop them.

The sound of new footsteps reached his ears a moment before Tighe and Delaney walked in.

Hawke froze at the sight of the tiger shifter and his mate.

"There you are." Tighe's half-naked flesh gleamed with the sweatiness of a long night of draden fighting. His short blond hair was spiked and damp, as it often was when he'd been shifting back and forth. His hand rested on the shoulder of the tall, attractive ex - FBI agent who'd become his wife. A woman who'd only recently become immortal. And pregnant with Tighe's son.

A woman who shouldn't be anywhere near a Feral with limited control. Delaney might be immortal, now, but she hadn't always been, and that babe inside her could be mortal. He could kill the infant with a single rip of his claws. The horror of that thought set off the anger inside him, igniting the red coals of his rage. The red haze began to rise around the edges of his vision.

"Get her out of here." He hardly recognized the low, snarling voice as his own. The tips of his fingers began to tingle with the impending thrust of claws. Fangs erupted from his gums.

Pain tightened Delaney's features even as Tighe shoved her behind him. Tighe and Lyon captured Hawke's arms in iron grips.

"Delaney, I'm sorry," he growled through fangs that were more suited to a large cat or wolf but were the hallmark of all shifters. "I don't want to hurt the babe. I can't hurt the babe."

"Hawke, I know," she assured him. "I know you'd never hurt us."

"Intentionally." He swung to face Tighe. "Don't let me near her."

"Hawke . . ." Tighe's voice was low, leaden with misery. "Buddy. You're not going to hurt them. I'm not going to let you, and neither are you."

"When I'm in control, no. Never. But I lose it, Stripes. You've seen it happen. I'm fighting as hard as I can to control the fury, but I keep losing. You can't let me hurt them." He wouldn't be able to live with himself. He'd barely been able to live with what he'd done to Aren.

"I won't, buddy. I won't." Tighe got in his face, his gaze like a lifeline, snaring him in the fierce love they all felt for one another. "You're going to get past this. You'll see. You're getting better."

But it was a lie, and they both knew it. Two weeks had passed, and he not only wasn't any better, he was pretty sure he was getting worse. Though he was learning ways to hold on to control, when he lost it he was gone for longer and longer periods of time, until he feared that one day soon, he'd shift into his hawk and never come back.

What use was a shifter who couldn't shift?

None. None at all.

Though no one would say the words out loud, they were all thinking the same thought. If he didn't get any better, if he couldn't shift, sooner or later, they were going to have to clear the way for a hawk Feral who could.

The Feral, Vhyper, turned the huge yellow vehicle - a Hummer, Faith thought it was called - into the long drive. There were trees everywhere, but the trees weren't densely spaced, and she could see large homes dotting the woods in the distance on either side. By far the largest of the homes, a true mansion, stood at the end of the drive, three imposing brick stories adorned with dormers and black shutters. An awe-inspiring sight with the late-afternoon sunshine filtering down through the surrounding hardwoods, making the randomly planted azalea bushes gleam like rubies.

Pleasure stirred, and the desire to share the pretty sight with Maria pinched inside her. She hadn't even been able to tell Maria good-bye. Often, life's chapters refused to wrap themselves up in neat little packages. She knew that from long, bitter experience. But her sojourn in Warsaw had ended on a particularly ragged tear. Fate had thrown a wrench into the works when Maxim walked into her life. She glanced at him now as he sat in the front seat beside Vhyper, eyeing the mansion with a look that told her he was unimpressed.

Vhyper, who'd picked them up at Dulles International Airport outside Washington, D.C., pulled up in front of the house, parking the Hummer among the variety of other vehicles already there. He tugged on the snake earring that hung from one ear. "Welcome to Feral House. Home of the wildest animals in Fairfax County."

Faith looked at him in the rearview mirror, uncertain whether he was being wry or self-important. Wry, she decided at the hint of humor lurking in his eyes. Definitely wry.

"Then I will civilize them." Maxim's tone made it clear he was serious. Painfully serious.

That hint of humor in Vhyper's eyes fled, his expression turning cool even as a smile lifted his mouth. "Good luck with that."

Faith didn't need a formal education to recognize a rough road ahead when she saw one. She'd known Maxim only a matter of hours, but it had become increasingly clear the man was utterly without a sense of humor. Which was too bad since she had one. But Maxim was educated and cultured. A good man, or the animal would never have marked him.

Vhyper turned off the ignition and swung his long frame out of the car, a bright beam of sunlight slicing through the trees to illuminate his bald head. Faith reached for her door handle, uncertain if Maxim would insist on opening the door for her. His attention to her since he'd picked her up that morning had been erratic. One moment, he treated her like a queen with formal, old-world manners. The next, she wondered if he remembered she existed.