When Vhyper was done, he handed the blade to Maxim. "Your turn."

Maxim met Hawke's gaze, a gleam in his eye that had Hawke wondering if the new Feral meant to throw the knife at him. Instead, he cut himself, as he was supposed to, without hesitation.

Kougar shoved his fist into the air, and the others followed.

"Kara," Lyon said softly.

Kara unzipped the hoodie and tossed it aside, then lifted her arms to the sky, drawing the Radiance from the Earth, and began to glow with the light of the sun.

Lyon turned to Maxim. "Remain where you are. If you touch her without an armband, the radiance will kill you."

Maxim dipped his head but continued to stare at Kara, clearly intrigued by the glowing woman. Hawke supposed such a sight would fascinate anyone who hadn't grown up with it.

The eight stepped forward, closing around Kara. As Hawke's fingers curled around one slender wrist, power surged into him, a rush of blessed energy. Around him, the others gripped one of Kara's hands, her other wrist, or knelt to grasp one of her ankles. Lyon stood behind her, stroking her slender throat before pressing his palm tenderly against the side of her neck.

Kougar released Kara first and turned to Maxim. One by one, the others followed, Hawke bringing up the rear. Kougar pressed his bloodied palm on top of Maxim's fist. Lyon pressed his atop Kougar's, Paenther's atop Lyon's. One by one they added their blood until only Hawke remained. As he pressed his palm to the top of the pile, his gaze met Maxim's. Hatred arced between them, a live wire of threat shooting both ways. Deep inside, his hawk gave a cry of anger, a cry not directed at him. The bird didn't like the new feral any better than the man did. For once, they were in complete agreement.

Kougar began to chant, switching to English as the others joined in. "Spirits rise and join. Empower the beasts beneath this moon. Goddess, reveal your warrior!"

Thunder rumbled in the cloudless sky, the sound of powerful magic. Beneath Hawke's feet, the rock trembled as if in anticipation of this first shifting of the newest fox.

Maxim threw his head back, a look of bliss racing over his features as he disappeared in a flash of colorful, sparkling lights, shifting into his animal.

Hawke froze, blinking with shock. The huge, strange creature standing within their circle was no fox.

"Holy shit," Jag breathed.

Hawke's jaw dropped as he stared at the cat in their midst. His pulse began to hammer. The animal was nearly the size of an African lion, though far thicker, probably weighing close to twice what Lyon would in his animal form. Its legs were stocky and muscular, its tail bobbed. And from its mouth hung huge twin fangs like seven-inch blades.

The men exchanged shocked glances, uncertain what had just happened.

"A saber-toothed cat," Hawke said out loud, his voice rough with awe and confusion.

"One of the seventeen." Kougar's voice was triumphant. "Ariana must have accidentally freed the animal spirit when she pulled us out."

Understanding arced across the group like a jolt of electricity. Raw excitement filled the mystic circle as the full import crashed over the warriors.

The great cat, its natural cousin long extinct, swung his massive head around until he was staring straight into Hawke's face, threat in his eyes. Hawke pulled his knives. The red haze began to lick at the edges of his vision and rise, showing no sign of stopping. Whatever force sometimes seemed to help him keep it at bay was absent.

Lyon stepped between them, his voice deadly calm. "Shift back, Maxim."

For once, Maxim did as he was told. As Hawke fought back the anger, the cat began to shimmer. Once more, Maxim stood, fully clothed, a look of pure triumph on his arrogant face as he turned to the others.

"Not a fox," he said simply, then threw back his head and laughed.

"Praise the goddess," Jag said. "Maybe this is just the beginning. Maybe they all escaped that trap."

Kougar shook his head. "It's too soon to know." But his eyes gleamed like diamonds.

Around the circle, his brothers' faces shone with joy, relief, wreathed in grin after grin. Hawke got it - this was the break they'd needed, the miracle they'd been waiting for - but it still annoyed the hell out of him that Maxim was the center . . . the cause . . . of such rejoicing.

Beside him, Tighe laughed out loud. "This almost makes it worth being caught in that hell." His gaze met Hawke's, apology, then concern, tightening his features. He reached for him, his hand going to Hawke's shoulder. "You okay?"

The physical contact helped Hawke pull it together. "Yes."

Tighe nodded, but he kept his hand on Hawke's shoulder, his smile gone.

Hawke wondered if they shared the same thought, that the most physically powerful animal belonged to the one among them they couldn't trust.

Kougar's voice rang out. "Henceforth, you will be known among us as Catt."

"How about Tooth?" Jag asked.

Jubilation had shot the ritualistic atmosphere to hell, and no one seemed to care.

Wulfe grinned. "Fang."

Vhyper snorted. "Bob."

Jag shot the snake a comically disbelieving look. "Bob?"

"For his bobbed tail."

Jag groaned, then snorted. "Glad to have you back, Snake Man, oddball sense of humor and all."

"You're one to talk." But even Vhyper's tone held laughter.

Lyon eyed Vhyper with a nod of satisfaction, then pulled Kara back against him as the circle dissolved into backslaps and handshakes, euphoric roars echoing over the rocks. They were nine again, and once the new fox showed up, ten. Maybe more. Maybe, ultimately, twenty-six.

It was a day for celebration. And wary caution. His rival had just gained a strength Hawke could never hope to match.

The men and Kara returned to Feral House to the smell of roasting meat and baking bread, and glasses brimming with bubbly champagne or whiskey. Paenther had called Feral House the moment the ceremony was over to share the news, and they'd returned to a full-fledged celebration.

Still in the foyer, Tighe thrust his glass into the air. "To the full return of the seventeen. May we be twenty-six once more!"

A loud cheer erupted as the Ferals and their mates all joined in.

Maxim stood at the center, thrusting his glass into the air. "To the sabertooth!" With his free hand, he pulled Faith against his side, nuzzling her neck, making her squirm. His gaze cut to Hawke, a malicious gleam in his eye.

"Ignore him," Tighe said quietly beside him.

Hawke forced himself to look away, throwing back half his whiskey. He couldn't let Maxim get to him. He had too much to lose.

"Bringing him into his animal doesn't seem to have improved his manners," Delaney said under her breath. "If anything, he's even more obnoxious."

The thought of spending a lifetime with this prick, watching him paw Faith . . . Dammit, this was his own fault. If he'd hidden his interest in her, as he should have, Maxim wouldn't be trying to provoke him.

Delaney moved away to grab the stack of T-shirts on the hall table, all black, all XXL. As she handed them out, the men set down their glasses and pulled them over their heads. They might be half animals, but they ate their meals with shirts on. And the celebration feast would soon be served.

"Why are Feral celebrations so . . . tame?" Maxim demanded, taking the T-shirt Delaney offered with a look of distaste. "We need music, revelry!"

Hawke forced himself to look elsewhere because if he looked at Maxim, he'd just see Faith.

"In the old days, the celebrations were anything but tame." Kougar's quiet words silenced the group as nothing else would have short of a sharp command by Lyon.

"The old days?" Maxim asked.

Kougar nodded. "Five thousand years ago. Before the Sacrifice. Though I can only speak for the cougar clan." A hush descended as all heads swiveled toward him, every expression intrigued. Only very recently had Kougar begun to talk of the past.

"In those days, when all Therians were shifters, a celebration began with a friendly, if bloody fight, generally in our cats, males and females alike. A fight that quickly turned sexual in nature."

"An orgy?" Jag asked with relish.

A small smile lifted the corner of Kougar's mouth. "Unlike any orgy you've ever imagined. Several dozen cougar shifters copulating in both flesh and fur, shifting back and forth with abandon. The lights and energy from the shifting fueled the sexual excitement, building until we were crazed with lust."

With all eyes focused on Kougar, Hawke risked a glance at Faith. Their gazes collided, his pulse leaping then plummeting at the look of unhappiness in her eyes. Resolutely, she turned back to Kougar. Hawke could feel her discomfort, could see the tense lines of her body and knew she was frustrated by this war that wouldn't end and embarrassed by Maxim's public displays of . . . ownership. Not another woman in the room squirmed away from her mate's touches. Even Jag treated his mate with respect and tenderness. In a room full of celebration, Faith wasn't happy. And he wanted her to be. Fiercely.

"When the majority were sated," Kougar continued, "we'd take off on a wild hunt of real game, killing and feasting in our cats."

If he pretended he no longer had any interest in her, would she turn to her intended mate and find true happiness there, as she'd believed she would? He had to give her that chance. He had to pretend well enough that he started to believe it himself.

"We were much closer to our animal natures back then, almost entirely lacking in human inhibition."

All were silent for several moments, absorbing Kougar's words and the vision he'd painted of a far-more-primitive time.

"It might be time to open a few windows," Vhyper drawled, earning a few chuckles. "They're starting to steam."

"Food's up, Dudes!" Xavier called from the hallway leading back to the kitchen and dining room. The young human had been caught by the Daemons in the same battle that had sent Hawke and Tighe into the spirit trap. Now he'd been snared in a different kind of trap, unable to leave Feral House until or unless they found a way to steal his memories of that night as they had the two women who'd survived along with him. The problem was that Xavier was blind. And memories could only be stolen through the eyes.

Beside him, Wulfe muttered, "Dudes," with a resigned shake of his head. "Always Dudes."

"Wulfe?" Xavier called.

Wulfe grimaced guiltily. "Yeah, X-man? I'm right here."

"Any news of Nat?"

"Who's Nat?" Hawke asked.

Wulfe glanced at him, a funny look in his eyes. A hint of soft longing that had Hawke's curiosity spiking. "Natalie. Xavier's sister. She was one of the ones the Mage had staked around the vortex you fell into."

"Shit."

"She's fine. Now. It took us about a week to clear her memories and free her." Wulfe turned to Xavier. "I haven't heard anything in a few days, X. That's good news though. If there were a problem, the reporters would be all over it."

Xavier's face fell drastically. Being blind, he had no concept of hiding his emotions. "Let me know if you hear anything, will you, Dude?"

Wulfe rolled his eyes, meeting Hawke's gaze. "I will, Dude."

They filed into the dining room, gathering around the huge table. Though he usually sat in the middle, Hawke joined Lyon and Kara at the opposite end from where Maxim seated Faith, on the same side, so he wouldn't even be tempted to look at her. Part of him wanted to avoid the meal altogether, but that was the worst thing to do if he wanted to start making everyone believe he didn't care.

As the dishes were served, conversation remained on saber-toothed cats and speculation that others marked by the seventeen lost animal spirits might start coming forward. Maxim's voice plucked at Hawke's nerves all too often. Faith's, he never heard.

The interminable meal was nearly over when Lyon's cell phone rang. He excused himself and took the call in the hallway. A few minutes later, he returned, beaming, or as close to beaming as Hawke had ever seen the Chief of the Ferals. At least, when his gaze wasn't wholly captured by his mate.

"Another new Feral?" Tighe asked, his voice rich with anticipation.

Lyon smiled. "Two."

"Hot damn!" Jag crowed.

"That was Kieran, a Therian Guard stationed near Dublin."

"I know him," Olivia exclaimed. "Oh my god, Kieran a Feral Warrior? The entire female population of the planet is about to get heart palpitations."

"As if they don't already whenever they look at one of our guys," Delaney said.

Olivia lowered her voice to a bare whisper, but Feral hearing being what it was, Hawke heard, as did every male at the table. "You haven't seen Kieran. He's . . . golden. Utterly beautiful and an Irish charmer of the first order." She laughed. "He's a doll, but . . ."

"But you only have eyes for me." Jag hooked his arm around his mate's neck and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The look Olivia turned on her mate started out teasing, then melted into one of such certainty, such devotion, it made Hawke's chest ache a little.

"I will only ever have eyes for you." She kissed him back on the mouth, then pulled away slowly. "But Kieran's a good friend, an excellent fighter, and, despite his unnatural beauty, doesn't take himself too seriously. I think he'll fit in well here."

Several pairs of eyes cut toward Maxim as if all shared the same thought . . . unlike their new sabertooth.

"Good," Lyon said. "Kieran just realized he'd been marked though he doesn't know when it happened. His feral marks aren't where he could see them. He got into a fight with another guard just now, and they both went feral. Shocked them both and everyone watching."