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Every time she closes her eyes, Delaney Randall suffers another nightmare. A brutal serial killer has found his way inside the tough, take-no-prisoners FBI agent’s head. Now she lives the murders through his eyes, from his deadly approach, to his victims’ screams. Until the night he breaks into her apartment and she fears she’s going to be the next to die. But the man who snatches Delaney from her home isn’t the murderer. He’s Tighe, a dangerous Feral Warrior who needs her and her visions to stop the rampages of a creature as inhuman as he is evil. Tighe has little use for humans, but as he and Delaney join forces to track the dark fiend, he falls for the intense beauty and becomes wild with an obsession as untamed as his heart. Obsession Untamed is Book 2 in the Feral Warriors series
July 2009
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Obsession Untamed is the second book in the Feral Warrior series. Book one is Desire Untamed and book three is Passion Untamed. |
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Tighe was determined to hold onto his sanity, even if every Feral watched him as if they expected to have to lock him up in the prison deep below Feral House at any moment. Wulfe stepped onto the rock beside him. “Any sign of draden?” Wulfe was the biggest of the Ferals, a monster of a man close to seven feet tall with a face that looked like it had once been used as a cat’s scratching post. Tighe released his frustration on a huff. “Not yet. They’ll come.” Then he’d rip their hearts out, as he did every night, and release some of this gut-eating frustration. Enough to feel relatively safe returning to the hunt in human-infested D.C. “I’m surprised Lyon let us take you out without a leash,” Jag drawled behind him. A growl rumbled in Tighe’s chest. The idiot wasn’t satisfied until he had every Feral ready to rip his throat out. And Tighe was in a foul enough mood to accommodate him. “Shut up, Jag,” Wulfe snarled. “The last thing he needs right now is your needling.” The last thing he needed was everyone treating him like he was filled with gunpowder, a lit fuse dangling from the corner of his mouth. He was fine. But the burn in his fingertips gave lie to that little assertion. He struggled for control, struggled to pull back from the feral rage engulfing him. Under normal circumstances the feral state was merely a place of lost tempers and healthy fighting. The place halfway between man and beast where human teeth elongated into fangs, claws erupted from fingertips, and human eyes no longer looked human. A place where a hawk and a tiger could access their wilder natures, yet fight on equal footing. But these were not normal circumstances. Thanks to the rending of his soul, he didn’t know how much longer he’d have the strength or control to pull himself back out of that state again. He fought against the fury engulfing his body, clenching his teeth even as he willed himself calm, but it was too late. Claws unsheathed from the tips of his fingers. Fangs dropped from the top of his jaw. Daggerlike incisors rose from below as a backload of dammed-up rage ripped free of his control. In a rush of feral anger, he lunged, tackling Jag to the rocky ground. In a haze of bloodlust, he felt the slash of claws and the ripping of flesh as Jag went feral, too. Blood spilled into his mouth, both his own and Jag’s, tasting warm and fine. His vision hazed in a wild bloodlust that had him suddenly longing to sink his teeth into Jag’s neck and rip out the bastard’s throat for real. His logical mind recoiled. He was losing it. He could almost see the dark, swirling waters of chaos lapping at his sanity. As his sane mind clawed its way back from the precipice, Wulfe wedged himself between the two warriors, jerking Jag out of his grasp. Tighe slowly struggled back to his controlled, human, form. As his claws and fangs retracted, Wulfe balled up his fist and hit Jag in the jaw with a hard right hook. Jag went sprawling. “What’d you do that for?” “You can be such an ass,” Wulfe snarled. “Do you want to see him locked up? Now? Would it be too much to ask you to not hasten the destruction of one of our strongest warriors?” Jag scowled and pushed to his feet. “Fuck you.” “I’m not heading for destruction,” Tighe growled, standing and adjusting his ripped shirt so that it continued to hang, barely, from his body. He wouldn’t let it happen. He refused to let it happen. But he couldn’t deny he was shaken. “Let’s kill some draden, then,” Wulfe said. Tighe compressed his mouth and nodded. They hunted draden by waiting for the little fiends to smell their Therian energy, energy the Ferals emitted in their human forms. It wasn’t much longer before a faint dark cloud appeared over the cliffs across the river.
Wulfe yanked off his tee shirt and unzipped his jeans, tossing his clothes onto the rocks. Jag stripped out of his camouflage pants and army green tee. Tighe did nothing. He was one of the Ferals who possessed the ability to retain his clothes when he shifted. A handy trick, especially when he hunted among humans. The dark cloud of draden moved quickly toward them over the gleaming river, a smudge against the stars and the shadowy distant cliffs. A huge smudge. “Holy shit.” Jag whistled low. “Is it just me, or is that five times the usual number?” There had to be hundreds coming at them. Maybe more than a thousand. Holy shit, was right. They’d known the draden were multiplying faster than usual, but the evidence was alarming. If they didn’t get them under control, there wouldn’t be enough Therian energy for them to feed on. They’d turn on the humans. And if that happened, they’d decimate the population in no time, without the humans ever knowing what hit them. “Then let’s get ’em, boys,” Jag said. “I’ll take first bait.” Tighe pulled his knives. One of them had to remain in his human, or Therian form, or the draden would fly off. But as first bait, he would absolutely be fighting for his life. In a sudden, heart-jarring instant, a veil of darkness dropped over his eyes, swallowing everything. Tighe’s blood went cold. He couldn’t see. “What the hell?” “What’s the matter?” Wulfe asked beside him, as if nothing were wrong. Shit. His pulse began to pound in his ears. This must only be happening to him. His vision was gone. Totally. Was this the first step to losing his sanity? As quickly as his sight vanished, it reappeared, but his relief lifted and plummeted in the same instant. He wasn’t actually seeing. Like a movie lighting a dark screen, a scene appeared before his sightless eyes. A harsh, bright light lit a rough room, nothing but half a dozen washers and dryers on a cement floor. A public laundry room. Two heavyset women worked, one shoving wet laundry from the washer into the dryer, the other standing before a nearby table, folding clothes. The standing one glanced toward him, her expression at once appreciative and wary. “Hi,” she said cautiously. Suddenly, her face grew in his vision as if a camera lens were pulling in close. Her eyes widened with terror as the room lurched dizzily. As if he’d attacked her and taken her to the ground. Was this a premonition, heaven help him, of what he was to become? Behind him, the other woman screamed, piercing his eardrums. “No!” His victim threw up her hands, the terror in her eyes churning up rancid memories buried deep in his mind. Memories of another time, another place. His gut knotted until he thought he’d be sick. But he couldn’t deny the evidence. It seemed he was finally doomed to become the very thing he’d been accused of being all those long, miserable years ago. A monster. Moments later, beneath the harsh, bright lights of the public laundry room, the sound of footsteps had Tighe looking up from the body of the dead blonde into the face of a stunning, dark-haired beauty. Dressed in a no-nonsense navy blue suit, the brunette was tall and leggy, her hair pulled into a casual knot at the back of her head, the gun in her hands pointed at the center of his chest. A strange sensation pummeled the inside of his chest as he stared into her fierce, determined face. A feeling of connection gripped him. Almost a recognition. “Freeze. FBI!” she shouted at him. “Hands in the air!” He leaped at her as he had the other one. The gun fired, but if she hit him, he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t feel anything, could only hear the sound of her thudding heart and the slam of her head against the cement floor as he took her to the ground. Their gazes met and in the brown depths of her dazed eyes he saw not fear, but fury, and recognized the soul of a fellow warrior. Then he dipped his head to rip out her throat. Tighe? Tighe! He came back to the night in a rush, desperately swallowing the bile that tried to rise in his throat. Even as the stunning, dark-eyed beauty chiseled herself into his mind. She can’t die. Tighe! Wulfe’s voice echoed in his head at the exact moment fire slashed through his flesh like a thousand tiny knives ripping him out of his vision and back to his dark reality. The horde of draden had found him. Instinctively, he lifted his knives and began attacking the creatures, little more than floating gas beneath heads shaped like hideously melted human faces, who would steal his life if they got the chance. Beside him, his jaguar and wolf companions leaped and snapped at the attacking fiends. Sweat rolled down his temples as the woman’s face, those eyes, swam in his memory. Mistake. His gut fisted with horror over what he was destined to do even as the draden tore at his flesh. He fought them off, the blood running in small rivulets down his neck and back. What would drive him to attack a human woman? Two women? But he knew. That chaos he’d seen swimming at the edges of his consciousness would overtake him. He was destined to become locked in a feral rage, lost to the violence that would transform him into an unthinking, unreasoning killing machine.
 END
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“Ms. Palmer is a wonderful storyteller. She has a masterful grasp of plot, dialogue and characterization, and manages to intertwine a sense of both fantasy and folklore into the threads of the storyline. There is certainly an abundance of action in this book, yet the romance, so poignant and stirring, is dominant." ~ Mickey, You Gotta Read Reviews (posted November 2009)
“Pamela Palmer is fast becoming my absolute favorite in the world of ~ Kristal, Romance Readers at Heart (posted October 2009)
“…an intriguing world full of supernatural battles, magic, and some rather hot alpha males." ~ All About Romance (posted October 2009)
“Obsession Untamed is magically enchanting, blazingly passionate and dangerously suspenseful." ~ Amelia Richard, SingleTitles.com (posted August 2009)
“Obsession Untamed is a thrilling paranormal novel that is sure to strike a cord with paranormal readers. It's packed with emotion and is a great blend of suspense and the paranormal. Obsession Untamed was a real feast and a pleasure to devour." ~ Night Owl Romance (posted August 2009)
“Obsession Untamed is the second book of this new dynamic series and I am totally addicted. The feral warriors are all charismatic and hunky men that leave the reader begging for more." ~ The Romance Reader's Connection (posted August 2009)
“Ms. Palmer continues her story line with a fast-paced chase and the intriguing characters she so deftly brings to life. Obsession Untamed has the well-plotted strength to stand on its own, but will no doubt leave fans eager for the next installment in this entertaining series." ~ Darque Reviews (posted August 2009)
~ Fresh Fiction (posted July 2009)
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