Hunger Untamed by Pamela Palmer Page A

Probably all three, and there was nothing she could do to make it better.
    "Then meeting adjourned," Lyon said. "Get some rest, if you can. Kougar, I'll let you know the minute we find something on that Mage."
    Yanking her with him, Kougar steered her out of the room and down the wide hallway toward the foyer.
    She wasn't entirely certain herself why she'd never contacted him. For a while, her situation had been impossible. But later . . . she wasn't sure. She'd never made the active decision to stay away from him. For a thousand years, she'd loved him, missed him, and always intended to go back to him. Someday.
    But even if she knew what to say to ease his anger, she wouldn't say it. His anger was keeping him alive. For now.
    He steered her through the foyer and up one of the curved stairs to a long hall that, like much of what she'd seen of Feral House so far, looked like it had been decorated a hundred years ago. The green-and-gold wallpaper of the foyer had given way to walls papered in swirls of gold peacock feathers on a beige field, covered in paintings of all styles and types--landscapes, medieval portraits, battle scenes. Electric sconces hung at regular intervals like oil lamps of old. She'd always loved the style of that era. The gilt and color pleased her Ilina eye.
    Kougar stopped at one of the doors that lined the long hallway, opened it, and pushed her none-too-gently inside what was clearly his bedroom.
    His bedroom. Could their reunion have played out any differently in her head? How many times had she imagined his reaction when she found him again, his face wreathed in joy, his eyes gleaming like silver like they used to whenever he saw her. She'd imagined him lifting her, like he had in those days, until they were eye to eye as if she weighed nothing, then kissing her as if he'd been holding his breath all that time and would only breathe again when their lips were fused. He'd always made her feel as if she were his sun and his moon when they were together, though those times had been all too seldom and those two years far too short.
    But the reunion of her imaginings was nothing like the reality. There were no smiles. No sweet kisses. No softness at all. Only anger and hopelessness, and death hanging like a low, dark cloud over their heads.
    Harsh fingers released her arm, leaving the flesh throbbing. Behind her, the door closed with a bang that rattled the windows. Ariana turned, ready to face her accuser; but Kougar paced away, violence seething beneath the animal grace of his walk.
    Without warning, he yanked the straight-backed wooden chair out from his desk, lifted it, and sent it crashing down on the broad wood surface, splintering into a dozen pieces. As chunks of wood clattered against the wall and onto the floor, he threw what was left of the chair across the room, then arched as if in terrible pain. Hands fisted at his sides, he threw back his head and let out a roar filled with such fury that she knew she should be quaking with fear. But along with that roar, she heard pain. A pain she'd caused.
    Guilt twisted inside her. She'd never meant to hurt him like this. But, dammit, he wasn't the only one who'd suffered!
    His fangs and claws erupted as he started toward her, stalking her with eyes turned the yellow of a jungle cat.
    Ariana held her ground, her wrists still bound before her as she faced him. Inches away from her, he stopped, staring down at her from his great height like an animal about to strike. Though her heart pounded in response to his fury and the memory of the last time he'd drawn claws on her, up in the Crystal Realm, she wasn't afraid. Not of Kougar. No, she was getting mad. He acted as if she'd carelessly tossed him aside, and nothing could be further from the truth.
    His lips drew back in a snarl over teeth clenched tight, his fangs long and sharp. " You. Put. Me. Through. Hell. "
    She lifted her chin, meeting that fiery gaze, giving rein to the anger that was building inside