"Yes. She was a great collector of art." He motioned to the many oil paintings hanging on the walls. "They're all originals."

Lyon set her single suitcase on a carved chest at the foot of the bed, then closed the red velvet drapes and retreated to the door.

"Sleep, little Radiant." His expression was closed, yet not unkind. "You can unpack when you're rested. If you need me, you have only to call my name, and I'll hear you. My room is directly above yours."

Lyon strode to the door, and Kara started to follow, her pulse rocketing at the thought of being alone. She forced herself to stop. As badly as she wanted to beg him to stay, there was only one way he could possibly construe such a request, and she wasn't that kind of girl. Kara MacAllister didn't have sex with strangers, not even ones who sent her hormones into such paroxysms of excitement that she orgasmed from the simple stroke of their tongues on her hand.

As Lyon closed the door behind him, Kara groaned, mortified all over again. What must he think of her? She pressed the heels of her hands against her closed eyes, easing the tired ache. Lyon was right. She needed sleep.

Pulling her nightgown out of her suitcase, her gaze was pulled to one of the paintings on the wall. An African lion with his head thrown back in full roar, stood with one massive paw pinning a disembodied human head to the ground. Painted on the cheek of the male head was a shiny copper circle. And in his eyes, the brightness of life and disdain.

With a small shiver, Kara stripped out of her clothes and pulled on her nightgown, then walked to the window and peered between the heavy drapes, looking out over the woods that pressed in from all sides. The sky was beginning to lighten now. The sun would be up soon. A new day.

Her first without her mom.

Sadness rolled over her, triggering the burn of tears. Kara swiped away a lone drop that slid down her cheek and pressed her palm to the cool glass.

Why had she come? She should have refused. But with a despondent sigh, she knew it wouldn't have mattered. Lyon would have knocked her out and brought her anyway. He'd come for her for a reason. And until he was through with her, she knew with total conviction, he wouldn't let her go.

* * *

Chapter Four

"Did you find her?" Paenther asked, stepping back for Lyon to enter even as he extended his hand in greeting. As their forearms met, the black-eyed warrior flicked the wall switch to his bedroom, squinting against the sudden light, telling Lyon in no uncertain terms he'd woken the man from a sound sleep. If the blinking eyes hadn't told him that, the barely controlled rage permeating the room would have. The sharp edges of a rage that had been burned into the shifter's soul centuries ago and which he kept under control only by dint of his granite will.

"She's here."

"Thank the goddess." Paenther released him to rake a hand through his straight black hair, sending it swinging down to brush his shoulders. One lock fell forward, tangling with the harsh feral marks that cut across his left eye. "How soon can we get her ascended?"

Lyon shook his head. "She was raised by humans."

"She's had no preparation?"

"None. It's going to take time."

"Shit. We're going to play hell getting the draden swarms back under control if this goes on much longer. We need to be able to shift, Roar."

"What about Foxx and the Daemon blade?" The moment Lyon had sensed Kara's whereabouts, he'd left to track her down, leaving Paenther, his second-in-command, to deal with Foxx. "Did you get to the bottom of it?"

Paenther shook his head. "One minute he swears he didn't go into the vault, and the next he says he only wanted to look at the Daemon blade and accidentally got it mixed up with the ceremonial blade. Then he's back to swearing he didn't take it out of the vault at all. I don't think he did it intentionally. I think the problem is the lack of radiance. He's young, Roar. Those first couple of years after you're marked are a bitch as it is. He's going to be the first to suffer."

"Keep an eye on him. On all of them. We can't afford any more mistakes like that one."

"Agreed."

Lyon left to find some sleep, but as he started down the long second-floor hall toward the stairs that would lead to the third floor and his room, a trill of feminine laughter drifted to him from the far end. Zaphene's laughter. Foxx's girlfriend of… what was it now? Five months? Six? Zaphene seemed to be spending more nights in Feral House than whichever Therian enclave she now called home. Though he was beginning to think that arrangement might turn permanent. The young Foxx had been exhibiting all the signs of a man foolish with love.

But as the pair walked into the light of an electric sconce, Lyon saw the sultry redhead was not with Foxx, but Vhyper. Though they weren't touching one another, there was something about the look of them together that made him wonder if Foxx's dreams were about to come to a crashing end.

"Did you find our Radiant?" Vhyper asked, as they met at the stairs.

Lyon nodded. "I did."

A grin split Vhyper's face. "Good. That's good."

Lyon's gaze flicked between the couple. "You're up early. What are you two up to?"

"Coffee. I couldn't sleep."

"Where's Foxx?"

Vhyper shrugged. "Still licking his wounds from the thrashing Paenther gave him last night." He grabbed Zaphene and pulled her tight against him as she gave a sultry laugh. "I'm keeping his woman entertained until he snaps out of it." Vhyper waggled his brows. "The cub better get out of his sulk soon, or he may need to find himself a new woman."

Lyon assumed Vhyper was pulling a major flirt, but there was something in his eyes that set off Lyon's instinct for trouble. He gave a silent groan. The last thing he needed right now was to have to play referee in a battle over a woman.

Zaphene's cool laughter grated on Lyon's ears as she slipped out of Vhyper's hold and stepped up to him. Her warm fingers trailed down his forearm until she gripped his hand. "If I'm back to shopping for a man, maybe I'll have to start at the top this time."

Lyon pulled his hand from her grasp. "I'm not for sale." He tossed Vhyper a hard look. "Do me a favor and keep your hands to yourself until things get back to normal around here. Foxx doesn't need this right now. None of us does…" The walls and floor started spinning.

"Easy, Roar.".

Lyon felt himself being eased down until he was sitting on the top step of the stairs.

Zaphene laughed. "I didn't mean to fluster you, Warrior."

"You didn't…" Goddess, but he was dizzy.

"It's the lack of radiance." Vhyper squeezed his shoulder. "Get some sleep, Chief. You'll feel better in the morning."

As Lyon watched Vhyper and Zaphene descend the stairs, his head slowly cleared. Apparently Foxx wasn't the only one suffering from the lack of radiance. Dammit to hell. They had to get Kara ascended, and fast.

He pushed himself to his feet and walked the few steps to the upper stair. As he reached for the rail, his gaze caught on Kara's door. He imagined her sprawled in sensuous abandon across the gold satin sheets of that big bed, her unbound hair splayed like fingers of silk, her creamy skin beckoning.

Clenching his jaw, he forced his feet onto the steps, climbing with slow deliberation. He returned to his room, stripped, and fell back onto his bed, flinging his forearm over his eyes as if he could erase the image of Kara from his mind. His senses, opened to her in order to find her, had become drugged by her quiet beauty and aching vulnerability. But it was over. She was home. It should be a simple matter to turn off his interest in a woman he'd known fewer than a dozen hours.

A simple matter.

Just as soon as he figured out how to get her out of his blood.

Kara woke to find gray daylight seeping into the room, framing the dark drapes in a colorless glow as rain pattered on the windows. She levered herself up from the rumpled sheets and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face as she looked at the cavernous room.

It was real. The whole accompanying-an-immortal-to-his-castle thing really should have been a dream.

And her mom… Kara closed her eyes, bracing for the grief to steamroll her. But the pain didn't come. Only a dull ache, a heavy sadness. Blinking, she opened her eyes again, suddenly glad for Lyon's intervention. This she could handle.

Her thoughts clung to her mother, to the woman she'd grown up with, strong and healthy, and full of love.

Had she known Kara wasn't human? Kara's brows lowered as thoughts cascaded through her mind, one after another, bringing a near certainty that she had. Her mom's insistence that she never go near a doctor, nor ever play sports, had probably been intended to keep anyone from learning how quickly she healed. And the reason she'd begged Kara to stay in Spearsville when she finished high school? She'd always believed her mom was afraid she'd miss her too much. Now she wondered if her mother hadn't known there were dangers waiting for her if she wandered too far.

All these years, it seemed, she'd protected Kara's secret. Even from Kara herself. For twenty-seven years, she'd thought she'd known who she was. For twenty-six and a half of those years, she'd been perfectly happy. Until three months ago when she'd suddenly become restless and dissatisfied with her life. Until the mark appeared on her breast, she realized. Her restlessness had almost certainly begun when she'd become the Radiant.

Tossing back the sheet, Kara climbed out of bed. As her bare feet hit the plush rug, she stopped, a sudden, inexplicable feeling of dread welling up to tighten her throat. Why? Her gaze darted around the room. With a shiver of fear, she dropped to her knees and looked under the bed, but there was no one there. By the time she stood again, the sharp dread had dulled to little more than a faint disquiet.

Weird. Was there more to this house than she could see? Was there a ghost or some other invisible creature they'd yet to tell her about lurking in the shadows? The thought sent goose bumps skating over her skin and had her starting for the door.

Lyon would know. He could tell her if there was anything to be afraid of. He'd keep her safe.

The thought had her pulling up. Whoa. How had this happened? How, in a matter of hours, had Lyon gone from being a frightening stranger to her security blanket?

Was he really? Or was he merely playing with her emotions again, this time from a distance?

She refused to race out of the room like a scared little girl letting her imagination run away with her. Not that her current situation didn't warrant some trepidation, but feeling ill at ease about the unknown didn't mean there was some evil presence breathing down her neck.

For heaven's sake, she was still in her nightie. And it had to be late. She looked around for a clock. Almost five o'clock. In the evening, she supposed. She'd slept all day.

Kara grabbed the toiletries from her suitcase and headed for the private bathroom. But despite telling herself there was nothing to be afraid of, the feeling of disquiet wouldn't go away. She raced through her shower in record time chanting one word over and over and over.

Lyon.

Fifteen minutes later, Kara started down the stairs, her eyes darting and watchful as she followed the sound of male voices somewhere in the house. All through her shower, and since, the unnatural dread had ebbed and flowed, rising to chill her skin and make her pulse race, then falling again. She hoped she was just being paranoid, prayed that when she found Lyon and asked if there was any reason she should feel spooked, he'd tell her no, of course not. Then he'd introduce her to the rest of the Feral Warriors, men as nice and charming as Tighe, and give her the full tour of the house, which would include a swimming pool or gazebo, or something equally luxury-mansionish, and she'd laugh at her completely unfounded misgivings.

She really hoped that was what happened, because right this moment she wanted to bolt from the house and not stop running until she crossed the Mississippi.

Her nose caught a whiff of roast pork as she stepped onto the painted floor of the foyer, making her empty stomach growl in complaint. She'd never had a chance to eat that soup last night… or anything since. Her trepidation took a sudden backseat to hunger. Maybe Lyon was in the kitchen. And if not? She'd grab something to eat before she continued her search.

The mouthwatering aroma seemed to be coming from the same direction as the voices, down a long, wide hall lined with more paintings. The voices became clearer as she walked.

"I can beat you, dog."

"Don't call me dog."

"Tonight at midnight. Outside the wards. No knives."

The second man grunted. "Deal."

"Morons," said a third voice Kara thought she recognized as Tighe's. "If they swarm, you're both dead."

Kara eased into the doorway of a spacious, window-lined room. Outside, the budding trees dripped with rain against a gray sky, darkening with dusk. Inside, large blue-and-gold birds covered the wallpaper in a dizzying explosion of color lit by a pair of chandeliers half the size of the one in the foyer, yet no less grand. At a table that looked like it might have been stolen from the court of one of the old French kings, sat four huge men. They ate and talked with one another as naturally and casually as if they sat in a rustic kitchen instead of a painfully formal dining room.

"Let 'em swarm," the first man said. She could see him, now, sitting facing the doorway, a shaggy thatch of red hair framing a youthful, freckled face. "Wulfe and I are going hunting, aren't we, my man?"

"I'm not your man."

The red-haired one looked up and saw her, then rose to his feet, prompting the others to do the same. Kara felt her cheeks grow warm. The only one she recognized was Tighe, who was even now slipping on a pair of sunglasses.