Passion Untamed by Pamela Palmer

was rich with warmth and deep with affection.
    Skye blinked into the darkness. How long had it been since she’d heard such affection between two people? She and Lucian had spoken to one another like that once, years ago. She’d barely been full grown when they’d fallen in love behind Birik’s back. But then Inir had come and Lucian’s eyes had turned as cold as the others’ and he’d decided hurting her was more fun than loving her.
    “We’re all going to need a good fuck after riding with the witch,” the one called Jag drawled. “Ever taken two cocks at once, FBI? I’m not real particular which hole I shove mine into.”
    The driver’s growl turned deep and vicious. The car swerved, rolling Skye onto her back as the smell of blood suddenly filled the air.
    “Tighe, drive ,” Paenther barked.
    “Then rip his throat out for me,” Tighe snarled.
    “Jag…” Paenther’s voice was as hard granite, yet laced with a deep frustration. “That’s too far, even for you.”
    “Just making conversation.” No hint of remorse warmed Jag’s words. If anything, a note of smug satisfaction rang in his tone. But she felt the animal inside him, the jaguar, and heard him howl softly as if in pain.
    Instinctively, her mind reached out to him,trying to offer comfort. But the animal turned on her, hissing.
    Jag growled low in his throat swinging around to stare down at her with malice in his eyes. “Your witch is fucking with my animal.”
    Skye scrambled to sit up, pressing her back against the hatch door, the beat of her heart turning erratic. Paenther might wear shackles that kept him from shifting, but the other men in this car didn’t. And the animals inside them were huge, fierce felines, every one.
    Paenther turned as well, his face shadowed, his displeasure palpable.
    She tensed out of long habit, bracing for the strike of a fist.
    None came.
    “Stop it, Skye. Stop screwing with their animals.”
    She stared at him, at the anger in his eyes. Anger, but no violence. At least not yet.
    “I…didn’t mean to,” she said quietly.
    “She has a way with animals,” Paenther said coldly. “She slaughters them.”
    Skye opened her mouth to object, then closed it again as Paenther continued.
    “And dances in their blood.”
    She pressed her lips together, the knot in her chest tightening. She couldn’t argue that she danced in their blood. And while she never killed her creatures, there was no denying she led them to the slaughter. Even if it destroyed something inside her every time.
    How could she ever convince him that she did none of it willingly? He’d already made up his mind against her. She felt his animal sense her and give welcome, his silent purr a balm to her quaking heart.
    But Jag’s animal was still hissing and a third cat—a tiger, maybe?—didn’t seem to be much happier about her presence. Why? Animals always greeted her. Why not these? Was the men’s animosity toward her affecting the animals inside them? Or maybe she simply didn’t have a way with animals that were also men.
    Except the one inside Paenther.
    As Jag turned back around, she met Paenther’s warning gaze, briefly, before turning to look out the windows. There was nothing she could do, either way. She couldn’t control their animals any more than she could control the men themselves.
    Fear lived and breathed inside her as her distracted gaze took in the vast array of vehicles, and the buildings lit with a thousand lights. For the first time in her adult life, she was free of the cavern.
    Free of the slaughter.
    The realization swept over her on a deep tide of relief and anxiety. Her precious creatures were safe, at last. She wasn’t. Birik’s reach was long. She’d thwarted him, escaping without meaning to, and there would be hell to pay. The thought of it trembled inside her, but not even fear could dull the warmth in her heart of knowing her creatures would never again suffer because of her.
    Whatever happened, she