himself and his wife, if he had one. Jag and Olivia, Kougar, who promised they’d meet his wife later, and Wulfe, the giant with the scars who didn’t appear to have a mate.
She wondered suddenly if Hawke was mated. Was she to meet his wife tonight, too? Surely he wouldn’t have been smiling at her the way he had if he’d had a mate. Just as she shouldn’t have been smiling at him.
Paenther stepped forward, his arm tight around the shoulders of a woman in a violet dress not too different from Faith’s own. A woman with the strangest eyes—copper rings around the irises. Mage eyes. With her short cap of dark hair, Skye possessed an ethereal quality that wasn’t at all what Faith had expected of one of the race that had long been enemy to the Therians and their Feral guardians.
Skye’s smile was cautious as she glanced from Maxim to Faith and back again. “Welcome to Feral House.”
Faith waited for Maxim to say something, or at least nod, but he remained stonily silent. She wanted to elbow him but didn’t.
“Thank you,” Faith said pointedly, flashing Skye a friendly smile.
But her response wasn’t the one that mattered. Paenther’s mouth took on a hard line as he stared at Maxim, his expression suddenly granite, his protectiveness a living shield around the woman.
“If you ever hurt her in any way, I will kill you.”
Still Maxim didn’t speak. If only he’d try to be nice. But men had always been something of a mystery to her. Was this merely male posturing? Once they took one another’s measure, would Maxim settle down and become friends with these men? She could only hope.
Paenther steered Skye away from them, angling his body in such a way that his gaze never quite left Maxim. As if he half expected an attack.
Skye threw Faith an apologetic look, which Faith quickly returned. Men.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two more of the big men step into the room along with a woman. Her heart gave a small, excited leap. Hawke. Tighe had his arm around the shoulders of a brunette dressed, interestingly enough, in a pair of black pants and a red silk blouse, a gun hanging from the belt at her waist. A gun?
Together, the three started toward them.
Faith’s pulse began to thrum as she shifted her gaze to Hawke and found him watching her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Her breath quickened, butterfly wings brushing the insides of her ribs even as she looked away. Even as she tried to ignore him. But, just as it had in the kitchen, the air began to thicken and dance around her. Why did he have to affect her like this? Why didn’t Maxim?
Maybe Maxim isn’t the one meant for me. But even as the thought formed in her head, another blasted it down. You belong to Maxim. The voice pulsed within her mind, burrowing deeply. Disturbingly.
As the three neared, she hazarded another glance at Hawke. He’d turned to Maxim, his eyes losing all warmth. A shiver skittered down Faith’s spine as she glimpsed the warrior behind those kind eyes, the Feral capable of handing out death with a few quick blows. Tighe’s expression wasn’t much warmer. Maxim had done a bang-up job of alienating the entire household, it appeared.
The woman beside Tighe thrust out her hand toward Faith as if she felt the tension between the males and thought it best to leave them to their glaring. “I’m Delaney. Tighe’s wife.”
Faith shook her hand gladly. “I’m pleased to meet you.” Her curious gaze dropped to the gun.
Delaney’s gaze followed. She smiled ruefully. “Ex-FBI. I feel naked without it. We’re always glad to have another Feral wife around here. We’re slowly evening out the numbers.”
“I’m not a wife. Yet.”
“You will be.” Maxim’s voice was as cold as the other males’ expressions. “But first you will need a wardrobe fit for my mate.”
Faith flinched. Delaney’s eyebrows shot up.
Hawke’s jaw tightened as he looked at her, his eyes at once hard and as warm as
She wondered suddenly if Hawke was mated. Was she to meet his wife tonight, too? Surely he wouldn’t have been smiling at her the way he had if he’d had a mate. Just as she shouldn’t have been smiling at him.
Paenther stepped forward, his arm tight around the shoulders of a woman in a violet dress not too different from Faith’s own. A woman with the strangest eyes—copper rings around the irises. Mage eyes. With her short cap of dark hair, Skye possessed an ethereal quality that wasn’t at all what Faith had expected of one of the race that had long been enemy to the Therians and their Feral guardians.
Skye’s smile was cautious as she glanced from Maxim to Faith and back again. “Welcome to Feral House.”
Faith waited for Maxim to say something, or at least nod, but he remained stonily silent. She wanted to elbow him but didn’t.
“Thank you,” Faith said pointedly, flashing Skye a friendly smile.
But her response wasn’t the one that mattered. Paenther’s mouth took on a hard line as he stared at Maxim, his expression suddenly granite, his protectiveness a living shield around the woman.
“If you ever hurt her in any way, I will kill you.”
Still Maxim didn’t speak. If only he’d try to be nice. But men had always been something of a mystery to her. Was this merely male posturing? Once they took one another’s measure, would Maxim settle down and become friends with these men? She could only hope.
Paenther steered Skye away from them, angling his body in such a way that his gaze never quite left Maxim. As if he half expected an attack.
Skye threw Faith an apologetic look, which Faith quickly returned. Men.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two more of the big men step into the room along with a woman. Her heart gave a small, excited leap. Hawke. Tighe had his arm around the shoulders of a brunette dressed, interestingly enough, in a pair of black pants and a red silk blouse, a gun hanging from the belt at her waist. A gun?
Together, the three started toward them.
Faith’s pulse began to thrum as she shifted her gaze to Hawke and found him watching her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Her breath quickened, butterfly wings brushing the insides of her ribs even as she looked away. Even as she tried to ignore him. But, just as it had in the kitchen, the air began to thicken and dance around her. Why did he have to affect her like this? Why didn’t Maxim?
Maybe Maxim isn’t the one meant for me. But even as the thought formed in her head, another blasted it down. You belong to Maxim. The voice pulsed within her mind, burrowing deeply. Disturbingly.
As the three neared, she hazarded another glance at Hawke. He’d turned to Maxim, his eyes losing all warmth. A shiver skittered down Faith’s spine as she glimpsed the warrior behind those kind eyes, the Feral capable of handing out death with a few quick blows. Tighe’s expression wasn’t much warmer. Maxim had done a bang-up job of alienating the entire household, it appeared.
The woman beside Tighe thrust out her hand toward Faith as if she felt the tension between the males and thought it best to leave them to their glaring. “I’m Delaney. Tighe’s wife.”
Faith shook her hand gladly. “I’m pleased to meet you.” Her curious gaze dropped to the gun.
Delaney’s gaze followed. She smiled ruefully. “Ex-FBI. I feel naked without it. We’re always glad to have another Feral wife around here. We’re slowly evening out the numbers.”
“I’m not a wife. Yet.”
“You will be.” Maxim’s voice was as cold as the other males’ expressions. “But first you will need a wardrobe fit for my mate.”
Faith flinched. Delaney’s eyebrows shot up.
Hawke’s jaw tightened as he looked at her, his eyes at once hard and as warm as
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