Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (11 page)

He could tell by her footsteps and her scent that
she’d followed him into the room, though she was careful not to get too close.

“So you bit him, too?” He ground his jaw, unable to
get the infuriating image of Morgan sinking her fangs into Ashe Granger out of
his head. And she must have done it more than once, if she had a better “track”
on the vamp than she did on Kellan. The thought of it made Kierland want to put
his hands around something and squeeze. And by something, he meant Granger’s
throat.

Huskily, she said, “Don’t you think that falls under
the category of ‘We really shouldn’t go there’?”

“I’m starting to think that maybe we should.” He
shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to face her. “If we’re going to be
stuck using Ashe as a guide—” just saying the words made him feel like killing
something “—then I need to know exactly where things stand between the two of you.”

She gave him a hard, steely stare. “We’re friends, and
that’s all you need to know.”

Cocking his head a little to the side, Kierland
studied her expression. “No lingering resentment after what he did?”

“You mean dumping me?” she guessed, surprising him
with a soft laugh.

“Yeah.”

“Nope.”

She said it so easily—almost too easily—and his eyes
narrowed with suspicion. “Unless that’s not how it really happened.”

With a quick, startled blink, she asked, “What are you
talking about?”

Watching her closely, he said, “I’ve always assumed
that he got wind of what you’d done, going after him on orders the way that you
did, and his pride demanded he break it off with you. That even knowing you’d
fallen in love with him, he couldn’t get past what you’d done. But considering
the way he would still watch you, unable to take his eyes off you…I don’t know.
There’s always been something that didn’t quite add up. So now I’m thinking
that maybe that wasn’t how it happened, after all.”

With a soft, feminine snort, she shook her head and
smiled. “Why would any woman in her right mind dump a guy like Ashe? And for
that matter, why would you even care?”

“Like I said before, you were worth more than the
Consortium realized. Hell, Morgan, you had more natural talent than any other
student I’d ever had.”

The roughly spoken words produced an immediate effect
in her, the confident smile replaced by a look of almost vulnerable emotion
that seemed completely unlike her. The slender column of her throat worked as
she swallowed, and then she tore her gaze away from his, her hands pushed back
into her pockets as she said, “If that’s true, then you’ll be happy to know
that they’ve changed their minds about my worth. I’ve been offered a place on
the Consortium’s Private Guard.”

Kierland stared, stunned by what she’d just said.
Being offered a place on The Guard was one of the highest honors any clansman
or -woman could receive, the position one of both wealth and prestige.
Comprised of the most highly skilled warriors from all the clans, The Guard
provided special security not only for the Consortium, but also to any persons
of importance who were put under the Consortium’s protection. If the
circumstances were different and the Consortium leaders were supporting their
fight against the Casus, Kierland had no doubt that Guards would already be
stationed at Harrow House. But the Consortium had become too bogged down in
bureaucracy, corruption and their own egos to take appropriate action, and were
now doing their best to ignore the problem.

“So unless the Consortium’s stance on your conflict
with the Casus changes, this is the last time you’ll be stuck working with me,
Kier. In a few months, I’ll no longer even be a Watchman.” Her mouth twisted
with a tight, bitter smile, and she suddenly looked back at him, locking her
luminous gaze with his. “And after that, you and I won’t ever have to see each
other again.”

Kladno, Czech Republic

Sunday afternoon

IT WAS HELL FOR KIERLAND, sitting there in the trendy
coffeehouse, watching Morgan zone out as she stared at a snapshot of Ashe
Granger that she’d tucked into the photo flap inside her wallet. To make it
worse, it was a photograph of the two of them together. Morgan was sitting in
the bastard’s lap at what looked like some sort of Christmas party, a sexy red
and black Santa hat on her head, her slim arms wrapped around the vamp’s wide
shoulders. They were both smiling, looking happy to be together, and Kierland
wondered for the millionth time what the guy had been thinking to walk away
from her.

Or maybe the vamp hadn’t been thinking at all. Maybe
he’d just been a dumb, arrogant jackass who hadn’t realized what he’d had until
he’d lost it.

Whatever the reason, Kierland couldn’t help but wonder
if Ashe wished for a different relationship with Morgan now. And if so, how the
hell was he going to deal with that when the three of them were trudging across
the effing Wasteland together?

Though he was a werewolf, Kierland had always
considered himself a rational, civilized male. One who had remarkable control
over his baser, predatory instincts. But he knew his limits. Knew exactly how
much he was capable of handling…and what would push him over the edge. He was
already worried sick about his brother. Not to mention the war. Throwing the
Morgan problem on top of that worry was like letting an arsonist play with
matches. Sooner or later, something bad was going to happen…and then the whole
thing would end up in hot, fiery flames.

“How long is this going to take?” he muttered, sounding
like a recalcitrant old grump. He wondered if that was how Morgan thought of
him, and grimaced as he shifted in his chair, his long legs cramped from
sitting at the table for so long. “We’ve been here almost two hours now. If I
have any more coffee I’m gonna be bouncing off the friggin’ walls.”

“I’m almost done,” she murmured, transferring her gaze
from the photograph to the map of Europe that she’d laid out across the table
when they’d first sat down. She ran her fingertip lightly over the surface,
reminding Kierland of a scene from a movie he’d seen that had portrayed a group
of teenage girls playing with a Ouija board. Except in Morgan’s case, the magic
really worked, her ability to blood-track an extraordinary gift that had been
handed down from her ancestors. When they were closer, she didn’t need a map to
follow the signal, but when too much distance separated her from her target,
she said that the maps helped her to “zone in” on a specific area.

“Okay,” she finally whispered, slipping the photograph
back into the small leather backpack that she carried like a purse. “I think
I’ve got him, but he’s not as near as I’d hoped.”

When they’d driven out of Prague that morning, after
leaving Gideon’s apartment, she’d told Kierland to head west, since that’s
where she’d “felt” Ashe’s pull coming from. As they’d traveled down the
motorway, her directions had gradually become more specific, until they’d found
themselves heading north, toward the German border.

“I’m thinking Hannover,” she told him, slipping the
backpack onto her shoulder. “But I won’t know for sure until we get closer.”

As they left the café, walking down the busy market
street, Kierland found himself thinking back to the news she’d delivered that
morning about the job with The Guard. It’d been impossible to hide his shock at
the stunning announcement. He’d demanded to know the details, and she’d
explained that the reassignment to his Watchmen unit was only temporary, until
March, when she would be taking her first special protection assignment in
southern Australia. It seemed that one of the Guards on the detail was retiring
at the end of February, and Morgan would be taking his place.

When he’d laughed and told her that she’d be bored out
of her mind within a week, she’d just shaken her head and smiled. Apparently,
she was going to be assigned to an eccentric family of human scholars who were
studying ancient scrolls from the lost civilization of Atlantis, which had
always been a topic that fascinated her. Then she’d gone on to say that it was
the perfect job for her, because of the freedom and space it would afford her.
A sprawling ranch house in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but wide open
skies and red sand that stretches as far as the eye can see, was how she’d
described the family’s home, and he could tell that she was genuinely excited
about the relocation.

Kierland, on the other hand, was still trying to come
to terms with how he felt about it. Though he’d been working the idea over in
his mind throughout the long hours of driving that they’d already done, he
hadn’t come to any sort of conclusion. All he knew was that the relief he would
have expected still hadn’t made an appearance…and he was starting to wonder if
it ever would. A month ago, if you’d asked him how he’d felt about the prospect
of never seeing Morgan Cantrell again, he’d have instantly responded with some
smart-ass comment about his prayers finally being answered. And at the time, he
would have meant it.

Only…now, he was beginning to realize just how wrong
he would have been. He still wasn’t comfortable around her…and yet, he wasn’t
entirely comfortable with the idea of never seeing her again, either.

It took forever to make their way down the busy market
street, some kind of local bazaar drawing an eclectic assortment of shoppers.
Kierland stayed alert to their surroundings, too seasoned a soldier to overlook
the possibility that their enemies could be watching them, waiting to attack as
soon as they got the chance.

“Let’s cut through here,” he indicated, curling his
fingers around Morgan’s upper arm as he guided her through the crowd, heading
for a covered shop arcade that led to the street where they’d parked. “It’ll
save us time.”

She said something in response, but he lost the words
beneath the hundreds of overlapping voices. As they headed farther into the
arcade, the crowd became horrendous, bodies pressing in close until it was
difficult to breathe. At first Kierland was just focused on keeping his hold on
Morgan’s arm, making sure they didn’t get separated—but then he looked over his
shoulder and caught sight of her panic-stricken expression.

Stopping in the middle of the crowd, he turned and
took both her arms, pulling her close. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She was shivering, her eyes clouded with fear, but she
only stammered, “N-nothing. It’s…nothing.”

“You’re lying,” he growled, hating that shattered look
on her beautiful, sweat-misted face. “Damn it, Morgan. You’re as white as a
ghost. Did you see something?”

The crowd surged around them like a violent ocean
current, pressing into her back, shoving her against him, and she gasped, her
eyes going huge. “Can’t…can’t breathe,” she choked out, and it scared the hell
out of him.

Swinging her up into his arms, Kierland ignored the
outraged shouts of those around them and started shoving his way through the
mass of shoppers, snarling at anyone who didn’t get out of his way fast enough.

When they were finally outside, he headed straight for
the nearest truck he could find parked on the curb of the road and carefully
sat her on the hood. Standing between her long legs, he ran his hands over her
upper arms in what he hoped was a soothing, calming touch. “Are you sick,
honey? Come on. Talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, looking down, her hair
shielding her face. Kierland reached up to push the heavy strands behind her
ear, but she flinched. He stepped back a little, taking his other hand from her
shoulder, sensing that she needed the space.

Rubbing his hand over his mouth, he wondered what the
hell had caused her to panic like that, while a strange surge of protective
instincts flooded his system, creating chaos in its wake. Suddenly everything
seemed to be shifting on him, turning wrong side up, the perceptions he’d
always held about this woman twisting and flipping. Despite the hard-ass
persona she tried so hard to project to the outside world—tough, fearless,
independent—he was starting to realize that there was a core of something
tender and soft in her. And maybe something even a little bit broken. Something
Morgan was trying hard to hide from him…that she didn’t want him to know about.

“I’m better now,” she whispered, still keeping her
face averted. “Can we…can we just get to the car?”

Kierland wanted to demand an explanation then and
there, but knew she wasn’t going to give him one. “Are you sure you’re ready to
move?” With the edge of his fist, he lifted her chin and studied her pale,
drawn features. “You still look a little green around the gills.”

“Probably just too much caffeine, but I’m fine.” She
wet her lips, and took a deep breath. “Really. Let’s just go.”

The Spider was parked about a block down the road, and
after walking close by her side to make sure she didn’t pass out on him,
Kierland opened the passenger’s door for her, waiting until she was settled
with her seat belt on before shutting it. He drove through the town, vaguely
familiar with its layout, since he’d done some work there for the Consortium
several years ago. Wanting to avoid the traffic, he headed for a two-lane, less
populated road that wove around the outskirts of the town, cutting through
thick evergreen woodland, the ground still covered with the lingering remnants
of the last snowfall.