She grimaced. "Pretty much."

His expression grew more serious. "You've still been through hell. Even more than I realized. Are you sure . . . ?"

Faith slid her hands behind his neck, twining her fingers. "My whole life has been . . . I don't know. Not a mistake, but . . . not exactly as I might have planned. Only one thing has ever been truly right. More than I'd ever hoped for. You." She pulled her hands forward to stroke his cheeks. "I don't know what the future is going to bring, Hawke. For either of us. But we have this. We have now. And I want you. And I think you want me, too."

"You have no idea."

She reached down, sliding her hand over the thick, hard ridge in his pants, pleased when he sucked in a tight breath, when his eyes turned liquid with promise. "I have some idea," she murmured, then grinned at him cheekily.

He threw back his head and laughed, then swept her up, strode to the bed, and tossed her into the middle of the mattress, following her down.

As his body covered hers, his gaze pinned her, burrowing inside her, intense and passionate. "You're mine." The words were a growl. A vow that he sealed with a searing kiss, his mouth fusing with hers, at once gentle and rough, barely civilized. His hands tilted her head, his tongue swept into her mouth, a claiming that sang with victory inside her soul.

His kiss drugged. Her hands roamed over his bare shoulders, her breath turning more and more shallow with each stroke of his heated flesh.

His own hands moved, one cupping her head and the other sliding down her back to the hem of the T-shirt, then under and back up again, his palm caressing her back, making her skin flush even as she shivered with his touch. While his tongue stroked hers, and her lips, and the insides of her mouth, his hand moved lower, his fingers sliding into the waistband of her panties and lower still to grasp her rump.

She moaned, the sound little more than a rumble in her throat, but it seemed to inflame him.

His mouth tore away from hers, his hands grasped the T-shirt she wore, pulling it over her head. And then he was looming over her, his features a hard mask of passion and gentleness as his gaze met hers, then slowly swept down to her breasts. He reached for her, his long fingers grasping one small breast, kneading it gently, then plucking at the tight bud of her nipple, playing with it as if he'd never seen anything so intriguing.

She grinned, caught between laughter and a tenderness that misted her eyes.

A smile tugged at his mouth. "What's so funny?"

Heavens, I love you. "You. You're looking at it like you've never seen one before."

"I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life." Utter honesty laced his words, and he smiled at her with laughter and joy and devilish intent as he dipped his head and took her breast firmly into his mouth, sucking, flicking her nipple with his tongue.

She arched into his touch, groaning with pleasure, her fingers digging into his soft hair, holding him close.

His hand splayed across her abdomen, then slid to her side, skimming her hip. As he suckled her breast, he grasped her thigh and tugged it gently away from its mate. His hand slid between her legs, his fingers sliding against the silk covering her sensitive places.

"Hawke." She gasped, her hips rocking up to meet his hand.

He released her breast, looking down at her with a thoroughly pleased look on his face before he moved with a quick, animal-like grace, settling between her knees. With one quick move, he had her panties down her legs and on the floor. Then he was parting her thighs, staring between them with a hunger in his eyes that might have terrified her coming from a different shape-shifter. But this man? Her Hawke? No, never.

She shivered with anticipation, dropping her knees, opening wider for him, making him smile with a feral anticipation. Dipping down, he stroked her with his tongue, nearly elevating her off the bed from the exquisite pleasure. His hands slid under her hips, and he raised her, feasted on her with a relish that had her writhing and moaning and laughing from the sheer joy of it.

He lifted his face, his mouth damp and smiling. "Are you ticklish down here?"

"No." She giggled, unable to stop. "It feels amazing."

But instead of resuming his carnal kisses, he pulled her up until she was sitting. "I want to watch you as you come."

She eyed him with hot anticipation as he lay on his back beside her, then grabbed her around the waist. "Come here."

"Where?" She laughed as he picked her up, and grabbed for the headboard to keep herself from pitching forward as he positioned her knees on either side of his face.

"Here," he said silkily as he pulled her hips down.

Looking straight down, her gaze met his, locked on his, as his mouth resumed its feasting. Pleasure shot through her, doubled by the hot pull of his gaze as his tongue licked her, his lips sucking on her clitoris. She cried out with the building storm, her fingers digging into the cherry headboard until she wondered if she'd leave nail marks.

She tried to buck with the pressure building inside her, but his hands held her firmly against his mouth, her body an instrument he alone could play.

"Hawke, don't stop. Don't stop." She was lifting, cresting . . . The orgasm crashed over her with an intensity she could hardly credit, flinging her apart so violently, so thoroughly, she wasn't sure she ever wanted to be put back together again. As she came, his caress changed, his tongue's movement turning into a soft tap against her sensitive clit as the orgasm went on and on until she was out of breath and in danger of hyperventilating. The most wonderful, the most glorious . . .

He kissed her lightly between the legs as she floated down, whole again, if not quite the woman she was before. She lifted one leg, and he ducked out from beneath her, flipping their positions until she was the one on her back and he was looming over her.

"Good?" he asked, watching her with blazing, hungry eyes, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand in a move that resembled a big cat more than a sharp-eyed raptor. A cat that had every intention of devouring her, in every way.

She smiled. "Perfect."

He leaned forward and kissed her neck. "I'm glad." He kissed her jaw. "But we're just getting started."

"Hawke. I want you inside me."

He kissed her mouth, thoroughly, sweeping his tongue inside. "No," he said, pulling back.

"No?"

He laughed. "Yes. Just not yet." He gripped her hips and rolled her onto her stomach.

"You're kind of bossy." His finger slid between her legs and into her wetness, deep inside. She gasped, her gasp continuing until her lungs were full to bursting. "Oh," she said on a massive exhale. "I like bossy."

"I thought you might."

Faith pressed her cheek to the bed, smiling with joy as she felt Hawke's mouth on her shoulder, then lower. When his mouth brushed the curve of her waist, she squirmed with a giggle.

"Ticklish there," he murmured, then continued his thorough exploration of her body with his mouth, nipping her butt cheek, then brushing his lips across the back of her thigh where her feral marks were.

She tensed. He stilled, his fingers lightly stroking the marks. Then his kisses resumed, brushing the crease behind her knee, while a single finger slid between her legs, making her gasp, stroking away the terrible heaviness of those awful marks.

As his hands slowly slid up her thighs, his long fingers curving halfway around them, she wondered how much more of this she could take.

"Hawke. Come inside me."

"Not yet. Aren't you enjoying this?"

"Yes, but you . . ."

His hands slipped back down to grip her calves. "Bend your knees."

When she complied, he pushed her knees beneath her, his hand sliding up and down her spine, keeping her down. She felt as if her rump were practically waving in the air.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, then knew when his finger slid deep inside her again.

"I'm loving you," he said simply, and she wondered if it could be true. Could he feel for her as deeply as she felt for him? Was it possible?

With his finger, he found a place deep inside her that had her writhing and gasping, rocking against him over and over and over with the most exquisite pleasure.

"Hawke. Hawke."

Barely aware, she found herself on her back again, Hawke rising over her, shucking his pants. His body was strong, beautiful. His arousal huge and gloriously curved.

He watched her, his face tight with barely leashed control. "I can't wait."

She opened her arms and her thighs. "Come to me, my hawk. Come inside me. Now."

Bracing himself on his arms, he held her gaze as he slid slowly into her, stretching her with his thickness, filling her as she'd never been filled, joining with her as if she were meant for him and him alone.

When he'd filled her completely, he slowly pulled out, then pushed in again, faster this time, his face strained, his arms quivering. But still he watched her, still he held her in that tender gaze. Her hands hooked around his neck, her legs around his waist as his body thrust harder and harder, a driving, wild inferno that would no longer be contained, pumping, joining them, over and over as she met him thrust for thrust, forcing him deeper, joining with him more completely, and still it wasn't enough. Faster they mated, harder, until they were slick with sweat, their breaths shattered.

"Hawke." His name was a whisper on her tongue, a jewel of perfection she would give to him and at the same time keep for herself. I love you. The words she wasn't ready to say filled her head, her heart, until she thought she would burst from the force of them. From the force of the love she felt for him.

She smiled, and he grinned at her, laughing as he drove into her.

Her body began to rise, shooting fast and hard toward a powerful explosion that had her crying out with the wonder of it, her body clenching and shattering in an orgasm a hundred times more powerful than the one before. Because Hawke was in her, with her. As she screamed, he roared, and it was the most perfect moment she'd ever known.

Slowly, Hawke leaned down and captured her mouth as he drove into her again. And again. And once more, this time slow and full. Complete.

On a shuddering breath, he collapsed and rolled, keeping her tight against him until she lay on top of him, her forehead against his chin.

"That was . . ." She gasped for breath. "The most fun . . . I've had in years."

He chuckled, the sound beneath her ear a deep, lovely rumble. "I agree. I don't think I've ever laughed that close to coming before. It almost sent me over the edge."

She lifted up, looking into his face. "You held on nicely."

"Did I?" He grinned at her.

That pressure built up in her chest again until she thought it would burst, or spill down her cheeks in the form of tears. Heavens, she loved this man. She kissed his chin, then tucked her head against him again.

His hand slipped into her hair, holding her head against his pounding heart. "Do you want a shower before we get some sleep?"

She shuddered, the move involuntary. "No. I don't want to move." She didn't want to be parted from him.

"Me either." He kissed her forehead tenderly. "Sleep, Smiley."

In so many ways, her world was crashing down around her. But here, in this bed, in this man's arms, she was safe. For now.

"I love you, Hawke." The words came out unbidden, a cry straight from her heart.

His arms tightened around her. "I love you, too, Faith. You're mine."

She grinned, soft and swift, kissing his chest. But the joyous rush ebbed all too quickly. She shouldn't have told him how she felt. It wasn't fair to him. Not when he might be forced to stand aside as they cleared the way for her animal to mark another. But that was a worry for another day, another hour.

She did as he asked, and slept.

Hawke held Faith as she slept, his heart filled with equal parts delight and fear. He adored her, this darling, darling woman whose grin bloomed inside him, making him laugh even in the throes of primal passion. She loves me. But he was terrified of what it meant for her that she'd been marked by an infected animal spirit.

It wasn't that there had never been female Feral Warriors. He knew there had been. The animal marked the strongest, and that didn't always mean physically. The strongest morally, emotionally, mentally.

Faith was all those things.

Goddess, in some ways she was one of the strongest people he knew. She'd stood there while they'd discussed the possible need to destroy all new Ferals, yet she'd shown him her own marks, knowing what that might mean for her.

And the draden. His heart clutched all over again at how she'd stayed to help him fight Lynks and Polaris, knowing the draden would come. She might not have fully comprehended the magnitude of such an attack this close to Feral House, but she'd fought draden before. She knew they'd kill her, yet she'd stayed anyway.

Her own life might have gotten off to a rocky start, but she'd turned abandonment into a life's work, doing good on a level he'd rarely seen among Therians. What if she really was the one meant to be marked? Her heart was certainly big enough. And physical strength wasn't everything. Besides, the physical strength would come with the animal that had chosen her. Perhaps she'd never be able to take on a Mage in her human form, but as a bear or large cat or one of the other animals that had yet to appear, she could be formidable indeed.

He stroked her head as it lay on his chest. What if she really was meant to be one of the Feral Warriors? To live at Feral House. With him.

A thrill of excitement tripped his pulse, then quickly died.

Of course, any future with Faith depended upon his animal and him healing this rift in their bond, surviving this breach. Perhaps once the Shaman came up with a cure for the darkness, the cure would help him, too. A future with Faith also depended upon his convincing the others that she was meant for this role, that her marking wasn't a mistake.