She slipped on her only pair of heels - well-worn black pumps - then brushed out her hair. She was swiping on a little mascara when the knock sounded again, quick and impatient.
"I'm almost ready, Maxim." A quick brush of lip gloss on her lips, and she hurried to the open door. And stared with dismay.
Maxim stood on the other side, impeccably dressed in a full tuxedo, his hair slicked back from his face. She was hopelessly underdressed. As his gaze skimmed her attire, his expression soured. "Have you nothing better to wear?"
Embarrassment stained her cheeks. "It's my only dress, Maxim."
Without reply, he turned and started down the hall as if expecting her to follow. Or not.
Part of her wanted to stay in the room and skip the reception altogether, but what if they dressed up for dinner, too? For every dinner? She couldn't hide in her room forever.
Unhappily, Faith started after him, her stomach cramping. She'd been afraid of this - that she was out of her league with Maxim. Especially with the Feral Warriors. Would they all look at her with dismay? Kara? Hawke?
The thought of it made her want to sink into the floor. She'd never pretended to be any kind of royalty. She'd never pretended to be anything more than what she was - a sometimes waitress who tried to help street kids. And now . . . Maxim's soon-to-be mate. A role she was beginning to fear would never fit.
At the bottom of the stairs, Maxim came to a stop, apparently waiting for her, though his face remained turned away. When she caught up with him, he offered her his arm and she took it, feeling gauche and miserable beside his tuxedoed splendor. But there wasn't anything she could do but lift her chin and paste a smile on her face.
Together, they followed the voices to a large, formal room furnished in black and white with splashes of deep red. A number of the Ferals and their women were already there, some of whom she'd already met - Lyon, Paenther, Vhyper, and Kara. They were pouring drinks or grabbing beers, but the easy conversation died as all eyes swiveled toward Maxim and her.
It took a moment before she realized that her mortification over being underdressed was unfounded. To her relief, the only one who had dressed formally was Maxim. The other men were in pants and collared shirts of one kind or another, with one - a giant with a badly scarred face - in a plain black T-shirt.
Kara wore a brightly colored green-and-yellow sundress with a matching green sweater. And flip-flops. Flip-flops. Faith realized she was staring at the other woman's feet. But when she forced her gaze upward, Kara's shrug and grin sent the rest of Faith's tension tumbling away.
One by one, each Feral stepped forward and introduced 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 the summer sun. "You look lovely, Faith."
The ring of truth in his words had her blushing. Maxim hauled her against his side, a low growl rumbling from his throat.
Tighe clasped Hawke's shoulder. "I need a beer. So do you."
Jaw clenching, his gaze spearing Maxim, Hawke allowed his friend to steer him away.
Delaney threw Faith a curious look before taking the hand Tighe held out to her and following the men to the bar at the other side of the room.
Maxim's grip on Faith eased, but his arm remained around her shoulders as he started forward, leading her toward Lyon and Kara. Lyon watched their approach, his expression stony. They all watched. The room had gone silent, the atmosphere wary, as all pairs of Feral eyes followed them across the room.
"My accommodations are inadequate," Maxim informed Lyon. "I require larger quarters."
A scattershot of grunts and scoffs erupted around the room, but Lyon merely stared at his newest Feral with cold eyes. "Every room is the same size."
"The Radiant's room is far larger. More suited to my needs."
The sounds of disbelief grew louder. Faith wished she could sink into the floor and disappear.
"He's got to be kidding," one deep male voice rumbled.
"Who does he think he is?" another replied.
"I'm all for giving him lots of space," Vhyper muttered. "The whole backyard. I'll stake him myself, and we can see how well he enjoys the nightly draden visit."
A thinly veiled threat, for the draden would quickly kill any Therian who couldn't shift into an animal. But Maxim ignored them all.
Lyon's voice rose above the others. "You're a rank-and-file soldier, Maxim, and you're currently low man on the Feral totem pole. Until you're brought into your animal, you're not even that."
Maxim's hand spasmed on her shoulder. "And when will that ritual occur?" he demanded.
"Daybreak tomorrow." Lyon turned away. But when he would have steered Kara away with him, she shook her head.
"Give me a minute," Kara said quietly, and her mate obeyed her wishes, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before joining Paenther and Skye. Kara's eyes were full of sympathy as she met Faith's gaze. "Do you like champagne? We always initiate new wives into the Feral sisterhood with champagne."
Faith smiled, grateful for Kara's attention, for the open declaration that the enmity against Maxim did not extend to her. "I've never had any, but I'm sure I'll love it."
"Never?" Kara asked incredulously, then gave a quick, self-deprecating shrug. "Then again, the only times I'd ever had it before I came here were at a couple of wedding receptions in my home town. I'm certainly no connoisseur." She grinned. "But I do enjoy a good bottle of champagne, and the guys never buy anything but good champagne."
"What animal am I to become?" Maxim asked in that imperious tone of his.
Faith looked up, wondering who he was talking to. No one and everyone, she realized. The way his head turned, he was well aware that all had chosen to keep their distance. Instead, he spoke to them like a commander addressing his troops.
"The fox," Kara told him.
Maxim's mouth twisted with ill-concealed disgust. "A fox is quite small."
"The previous fox could enlarge his animal until he was as big as Wulfe," she assured him. "He was huge."
"The fox shifter has always been a fierce and effective warrior," Tighe added, though his tone said he was withholding opinion on this newest fox.
Faith's gaze, drawn by Tighe's words, slid all too easily to Hawke, standing beside him, taking in the casual way he stood, his beer bottle dangling at his side, and the long, muscular lines of his body. Unable to resist, she glanced up, meeting his gaze, watching with fascination as the frost in his eyes melted instantly.
"A fierce and effective warrior," Maxim repeated with a nod. "That will do." He gave a short, humorless laugh, and said with a thickly disparaging tone, "Unlike the hawk, which is a useless animal, completely unsuited for battle."
As growls of outrage peppered the room, Faith's gaze snapped to her soon-to-be mate. The heat of shame rose into her cheeks, and she could no longer hold her tongue. "Maxim."
The grip on her shoulder tightened in retaliation, Maxim's strong fingers digging into the joint until she cried out. Faith tried to pull away, but though Maxim shifted his fingers and no longer hurt her, she remained tight against him, held by his viselike grip.
The low growl of a vicious animal had her head turning. Hawke. Her jaw dropped, her blood going cold. My God. His eyes now glowed a golden orange, the pupils engulfing the whites. Animal eyes. Fangs had erupted in his mouth, claws springing from his fingertips.
Faith stared at his terrifying visage with a mix of horror and fascination even as she recognized the in-between stage between man and animal. Going feral, she'd heard it called. Deadly, terrifying. And utterly . . . thrilling.
Hawke took a step toward them, but Tighe grabbed him. Kougar leaped to his other side. "Easy, buddy."
Hawke stilled, his gaze fixed on Maxim. "Let her go."
But Maxim's hold on her only tightened.
All of a sudden, Lyon was in front of them, his own face looking much like Hawke's, with the fangs and the animal eyes. His hand whipped up to encircle Maxim's throat, his claws biting deep into Maxim's neck.
"Release her."
The hand at her shoulder slowly disappeared, as did the man at her side. Lyon picked him up by the neck and slammed him back against the nearest wall making the paintings rattle. "You will show respect for your Feral brothers and every person in this house. And you will never harm one of the women. Ever. Not even your own. Is that understood?"
"Of course." Maxim's words gurgled with the blood in his throat as his white tuxedo shirt slowly turned red.
For a dozen seconds, Lyon held him like that. Finally, he released Maxim and stepped back, his claws and fangs receding. "You'll retire to your room, now, and remain there until dinner at seven."
Maxim pushed away from the wall, straightening his bloodstained clothes, his expression as haughty as ever. Raising his chin, he speared her with his gaze. "Come, Faith."
Lyon turned to her. "You're welcome to remain here."
She was trembling, shaken from the violence and from seeing two Ferals in their half-animal forms. Hazarding a glance at Hawke, she found that, like Lyon, he was back to normal, having retracted fangs and claws, and watching her now with enigmatic eyes.
They all watched her, waiting to see what she'd do. If she stayed, denying Maxim's request to stand beside him against the others, she might as well pack her duffel and go home. No man would forgive that, especially one as prideful as Maxim.
You belong to Maxim. Go with Maxim.
"Thank you, Lyon, but Maxim is my soon-to-be-mate." Resisting another glance at Hawke, she turned and fell into step beside Maxim as he strode from the room.
She accompanied him up two flights of stairs, confused and frustrated by how right it felt to walk beside him. And at the same time, how wrong as she became increasingly frustrated with him. He was arrogant and rude. And he'd intentionally hurt her!
