"It's sacrilege to desecrate the temple," Melisande muttered when she was gone; but her complaint was all but toneless, a rote objection and little more. Her desperation to be free was a palpable force, yet she held herself together with the fierceness Ariana had always admired. It was the reason the woman was her second-in-command.
"Now what?" Jag asked no one in particular.
Up above, Ariana could hear the sounds of pounding, as if the Mage were trying to find a way to break through. She stroked the back of Kougar's head.
"You can put me down now."
He eyed her without expression, then brushed his cheek against her hair. "I could." But he made no move to release her, and she leaned into his touch, perfectly content to remain in his arms a little while longer.
Inside, the mating bond opened a little more.
The all-too-familiar prickling sensation in her palms and the soles of her feet grew worse. The darkness was getting seriously hungry. Out-of-control hungry. Which made no sense at all. The more the mating bond opened, the more the grip of the poison inside her should ease, as it siphoned off to Kougar. It shouldn't be strengthening.
Was this Hookeye's doing? Fear twisted inside her even as the hunger leaped with a strength that startled her, the prickling shooting up her legs and arms like sharp little scalpels.
"What's the matter?" Kougar stiffened. "You're in pain."
She didn't answer. She couldn't. The scalpels were tearing her apart from the inside, the need to turn to mist clawing to get out. It was a compulsion that took every ounce of strength she possessed to fight.
Her heart pounded with the struggle, with the fear that this time she'd lose.
"He's attacking," she gasped.
"How?" Kougar's face swam in her vision, his eyes blazing into hers.
She clung to his neck, drawing on the small strength she gained from touching him, holding on against the darkness with everything she had as it tried to free itself to spread to her maidens. To destroy those who'd survived the first attack.
"Ariana?"
"It's the poison. More." She was beginning to shake from the effort to hold it back. "Too strong."
His grip on her tightened. "Tell me what you need."
"Pain. Others' pain."
In a single fluid movement, he set her on the cool floor at his feet, stripped off his shirt, and leaped at Jag, his fangs and claws erupting midair to tear a chunk of flesh from the jaguar shifter's shoulder.
The darkness inside her howled with pleasure at the shifter's pain.
Jag stumbled forward, then whirled, his own claws and fangs erupting as he went feral. "What the fuck?"
"Fight me," Kougar growled through his fangs. "The darkness within her feeds on the pain. Feeding it is the only way she can control it."
"Neither one of you is any good with the warnings!"
Kougar leaped again and the two part-men, part-beasts crashed to the floor, wrestling and biting, clawing and bleeding.
Seated on the cold floor, Ariana gripped her head with both hands, closing her eyes as the darkness fed, as she fought the battle inside her. Sounds carried to her--the ripping of cloth and flesh, the crunch of breaking bones, the growls and snarls. The metallic smell of blood filled her nose and slid down her throat to coat her tongue. Droplets of sweat, or blood, splattered her bare feet.
A muffled cry had her looking up and turning toward Melisande.
Ariana stared at her friend in horror. "Mel." Her second had a knife in both hands and was cutting her own thighs. Blood ran in rivulets down her legs, trickling across the floor, pooling near Ariana's feet.
Silent tears slid down Melisande's cheeks. Blue eyes, dark with agony, lifted to Ariana. "You need pain. I'm giving you mine. If you lose, we all lose."
Ariana's vision blurred with tears of her own, anger burning violently inside her at the Mage who'd caused such misery. She wanted him dead!
Kougar and Jag fought, clawing one another until their blood, too, began to run over the tiles as if seeking her.
Deep inside her, the poison devoured their pain and rejoiced.
A light tingle running over her skin alerted her of Getrill's return seconds before she appeared, the Chief of the Ferals at her side. With a sledgehammer in one hand and two pickaxes in the other, Lyon fell unsteadily to one knee, his head low as he struggled against the sweeping nausea.
"Cease!" he roared at his battling warriors.
"No." When his sharp gaze met hers, Ariana explained. "Not yet. They're doing this for me. The poison inside me is demanding pain. If I don't quench its hunger, I'll lose control."
Lyon frowned but said nothing more. After half a minute, he rose slowly, dropped the pickaxes, and walked over to Melisande, the sledgehammer at his side. His gaze dropped to her missing feet, then back to her face. "I'm not entirely sure this isn't a good place for you." His tone, though dry, possessed a bite.
Melisande met his gaze, her chin lifting. A chin that dripped with tears. "I deserve that for attacking you in your home. But I thought Ariana was in trouble. There is nothing I wouldn't do for her. Nothing."
Lyon eyed her assessingly, then gave a brief nod. "Cover your face." Lifting the sledgehammer, he brought it down hard, slamming it onto the tile near Melisande's ankles. Chunks of crystal flew in every direction.
Ariana ducked her head against her knees against the flying debris.
Over and over, Lyon attacked the temple floor while Kougar and Jag continued to fight. While the poison inside Ariana fed.
Finally, the darkness inside her slunk back into the shadows, and she was able to draw a shaky breath of relief.
"It's enough," she said between strikes of Lyon's hammer.
Kougar and Jag pulled apart, Jag grinning as if he'd thoroughly enjoyed the fight. Kougar clasped the jaguar shifter's bloody, nearly healed shoulder, and together they strode to where Lyon worked. While Jag grabbed one of the pickaxes, Kougar continued to Ariana. He was a mess, flesh hanging from his cheek and shoulder, his chest and beard covered in blood. But in his eyes, she saw only concern for her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, squatting beside her.
"Yes. Are you?" She reached out, placing her hand on his bleeding chest, directly over his heart. "The poison . . ." What must this renewed attack, the flood of new poison, be doing to him?
He covered her hand and squeezed gently. "The pain in my chest isn't any worse than before. If anything, it's less."
"Why?" The pain should be worse, shouldn't it? More poison would just be eating away at his heart faster. Unless . . . "It's changed. Maybe this isn't the same poison he used before."
"You may be right. It may attack in another way this time. Or more silently." He studied her, pale eyes lingering on her mouth, his thumb tracing her lower lip, and she wondered if he'd wiped away a splatter of blood. "Either way, the original poison is still there, still eating away at my heart. I can feel it."
"Nothing's changed."
"Not in a good way, no." With a brush of her cheek, he rose and grabbed the last pickax.
Over and over, the three huge men broke away bits of the floor until finally Lyon was able to lift Melisande bodily, the solid ball of stone, crystals, and jewels still encasing her feet. He set her on the floor, holding her by one arm to steady her, and turned to Getrill.
"Are you the only ride out of here?"
"I'll call another."
A moment later, Brielle appeared beside her. Brielle's worried gaze took in Ariana's appearance, the bloody cuts that had yet to heal completely.
"I'm fine, Brie. I've suffered the punishment, but only a few of the memories have returned. I'm going back down there until I've retrieved the rest."
"We're going," Kougar corrected.
She met his gaze. "We're going." He refused to let her handle this alone, and yet, did she really want him to? If she were honest with herself, no. She turned back to Brielle. "I'll let you know when it's done."
Lyon grunted. "If you need help of any kind, the full might of the Feral Warriors is at your disposal, Queen of the Ilinas. Nothing is as important right now as helping you save our warriors."
"I understand."
Melisande eyed Kougar with a hard challenge. "If you let any harm come to her . . ."
"I won't."
Lyon picked up Melisande and slung her over his shoulder, ending the discussion.
Getrill took Lyon's arm as Brielle crossed to Jag and took his.
Jag grimaced. "Here goes nothing."
A moment later, the five were gone. In the sudden silence, sounds once more carried faintly through the newly sealed door. A dull pounding. A muffled shout. The hand caught in the door hung lifelessly, either severed by her magic or by the owner's own sword. She felt a moment's regret for catching the man in such a trap. But only a moment's. Not only did immortal hands regrow; but the sentinel would have killed any of them in a heartbeat if given the chance.
Kougar turned to her, his wounds all but healed, though he was still covered in blood. In his eyes, she saw concern and a fierce determination. "Are you ready to go back down there?" He bent and grabbed the shirt he'd discarded, hooking it over his shoulder.
"Yes." But as she pushed to her feet, she swayed, her strength all but gone.
Kougar swept her into his arms without discussion, and she didn't object. While the others' pain had fed the poison, it had done nothing to nourish her. She needed pleasure for that, her own or another's. If she were back in the human world, she'd dream hop, walking into men's dreams, stripping for them, playing with her own body as their hormones skyrocketed and their bodies grew hard and needy. Then she'd urge them to take themselves in hand and pleasure themselves as she siphoned off that sexual pleasure and grew stronger and stronger.
Long ago, she'd performed the acts on them herself, riding them in their dreams, drinking in their passion. But once she'd mated with Kougar, sexual acts with other men had ceased to bring her much pleasure. Kougar was the only one she'd wanted.
And she wanted him now. She hooked her arm around his neck and pressed her forehead to his jaw.
"What do you need?" he asked quietly, as if he knew.
"The mating bond . . ." She looked up.
" . . . is going to do what it does." His eyes turned warm and serious. "There's little we can do to stop it. Unless Paenther and Skye get lucky in their search, our only chance of beating your Hookeye may be through reclaiming the knowledge you've lost. I'm not worried about the mating bond, Ariana. Tell me what you need from me, and it's yours."
They watched one another for long moments, their gazes holding one another, caressing. Connecting. She slid her hand over his healed cheek.
"Strengthen me, my warrior."
A low growl of agreement sounded in his throat. "Here or below?"
"Below. Within the circle of the pillars is where the knowledge will come to me, if it comes. That much I've remembered. I need to be there."
"All right." He brushed his cheek against her hair, a tender caress that made her chest ache.
Goddess, she'd missed him. For so long she'd lived with an emptiness only Kougar had ever been able to fill.
As he strode toward the lower stairs, she tightened her hold on his neck, leaned forward, and kissed his jaw, just behind the spot where his beard ended, then flicked the lobe of his ear with her tongue.
The shiver that slid through his hard warrior's frame sent a flow of warm power sinking into her veins. A surprising amount given the simplicity of the touch. But she'd always reacted to Kougar as to no one else. A light bite to his earlobe earned her another shiver and a low growl.
As they passed through the door and began the descent to the lower chamber, she began to sing the soft Ilina chant to seal the door behind them in case the Mage managed to break through to the upper chamber. The temple's magic shouldn't allow any to pass through, but Kougar had. And the Mage were apparently far more powerful than they should be.
As Kougar carried her down the twisting steps, she slid her fingers into his hair again, watching the play of light over his strong features. "I love the feel of you," she said quietly, absorbing the touch of his soft, springy hair between her fingers. "I love the way you smell."
"You like the smell of sweat and blood?"
She smiled, marveling that she could, given the circumstances, but being in his arms made their situation seem not quite so dire. Leaning forward, she placed another kiss on his jaw.
"You couldn't smell bad to me."
His hold on her tightened as he stepped off the bottom step into the chamber and she knew he worried that the temple would attack her again. He carried her across the stone floor slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, then set her down beside the pool, close enough that she could reach out and trail her fingers in the water.
Kougar knelt at her feet, his gaze drifting down her still-naked body with hot deliberation, slowly stealing the air from her lungs. He grasped her knees and lifted them, then pulled them wide, spreading her to his gaze. His fingers trailed down her calves to her ankles as he sat back on his heels, his gaze hot between her legs, heating her with eyes that had turned silver. Deep inside, she began to tremble with need and anticipation.
His grip tightened, his neck muscles cording, and she sensed he fought an inner battle. A battle for control.
"You're not going to take me." She could see it in his eyes. "Not fully."
"No."