Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (26 page)

The Watchman was still lost in her thoughts, worrying
about Kellan and what the coming days would bring, when the door to the small
bathroom on the other side of the cabin opened. Without turning away from her
spot at the window, she listened as Kierland spoke to Ashe, who was resting in
a chair by the fire, telling him it was his turn to clean up. There obviously
wasn’t any hot water on tap, but they’d been able to heat some buckets of fresh
water on the fire and use them for sponge baths. Morgan had gone first, her
hair still damp from its recent washing, her body now covered in sweatpants and
a long-sleeved T-shirt. She’d chosen comfort clothes, since they were planning
to make use of the cabin’s beds and rest for a few hours. Though there was a
double bed behind her, placed close to the hearth, a doorway next to the
bathroom led to a small bedroom that housed another bed, that one a single.

The second Ashe shut the bathroom door, Kierland came
up behind her, close enough that she could feel the feverish heat of his body
blasting against her. She’d been staring up at the silver moon rising in the
sky, and wanted to stay lost in its peacefulness, but knew he was waiting for
her to turn around. As she lowered her gaze, she could see the reflection of
his gorgeous face and broad shoulders in the window’s frosted surface, his
larger frame towering over her.

“I heard you and Granger talking on the way to the
cabin.” His voice was a low, provocative scrape of sound. “About the last woman
he was dating. Some dancer in Paris.”

Morgan lifted her brows, as if to say “And?”

Rolling one shoulder in a restless gesture, his tone
held an edge of impatience as he said, “Doesn’t that make you jealous? Hearing
about him and another woman?”

“Not at all,” she replied, keeping her voice soft,
neutral. “But I worry for him. He deserves happiness. Someone who will love him
for who he is. Not an endless stream of bimbos who just use him because he’s
beautiful.”

“He’s not that bloody beautiful,” he muttered with a
heavy dose of disgust, curling his lip.

She smiled at his dry tone, but the smile fell as he
ground out his next question. “What the hell did you ever see in the cocky
bastard?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at his
reflection through narrowed eyes. “I don’t owe you an explanation, but let’s
just say that he was there when I needed him. If anything, I feel badly for
Ashe. I used him when we were together just as much as you’re using me.”

His eyes darkened with questions and confusion, as if
he could tell she wasn’t talking about those infuriating orders he thought
she’d followed. “What do you mean, you were using him?”

Shaking her head, she gave a weary sigh. “Do you
really not know, Kier?”

“If I knew, damn it, I wouldn’t have asked.” A
frustrated burst of words, punching against the quiet of the room, and Morgan
flinched from their bruising force.

“Just forget it,” she whispered, lowering her gaze
until she found herself staring into her own weary, worried eyes. “It’s not
important, anyway. And I’m getting pretty tired of your mercurial mood swings,
so I think I’ll pass on this conversation, fun as it is.”

Silence, so heavy and thick she could feel its weight
draped across her shoulders…and then his slow, guttural rasp. “Yeah, well, at
any rate, I’m sure Granger didn’t mind being used. Not when screwing you was part
of the bargain.”

Trying to hold on to her temper, she took a deep
breath, filling her lungs with the provocative, primal blend of burning wood
and Kierland’s own rich, mouthwatering scent—but it didn’t work. Instead, she
watched as her mouth curled with a slow smile, her words deceptively soft as
she said, “Hmm, you’re probably right, Kier. In fact, now that I think about
it, he was awfully thankful for my virginity.”

He jerked with a hard shudder, as if he’d been dealt
some kind of blow, then went completely rigid, not even breathing. A second
passed…and then another, and then a rough sound vibrated in the back of his
throat, and he turned away from her. Looking over her shoulder, Morgan watched
him quickly pull on his boots and jacket, before slamming out of the cabin.

A moment later, she could hear the sounds of
destruction ripping through the forest, and knew the Lycan was taking out his
need for violence on some unsuspecting tree, no doubt damaging his hands in the
process. The Kierland she’d always known had been too controlled, too
disciplined, for such a Neanderthal-type reaction, and she could only shake her
head in amazement, shocked that she’d been able to get to him so easily.

Then again, maybe his violent reaction didn’t really
have anything to do with her. He had to be worried sick about his brother, as
well as his friends back in England. Not to mention the danger surrounding them
in the Wasteland. It could have been a whole combination of things, which meant
she would be foolish to make too much of it.

God, she didn’t even know why they’d been fighting.

“Whoa, honey. What’d you do to the wolf?” Ashe
suddenly drawled near her ear, making her jump about a foot in the air.
Pressing one hand to her chest, over her pounding heart, Morgan turned around,
smacking her other hand against his shoulder.

“Damn it, Ashe. Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” he asked with a lazy, innocent blink,
though she could see the laughter lurking in his silver eyes.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that. I swear you float
over the ground like a ghost.” For such a big, muscular male, Ashe had always
moved with an effortless grace that was common among the Deschanel.

“You gonna answer my question?” he murmured, moving to
her side so that he could prop his shoulder against the wall. He jerked his
chin toward the window. “It sounds like he’s trying to kill something out
there.”

Crossing her arms over her middle, Morgan explained
that she’d said something to tick Kierland off…and he’d left.

Ashe hooked his thumbs in his pockets and playfully
waggled his dark brows, his gorgeous mouth curved in a teasing smile. “If you
really wanna drive him crazy, we could always jump into bed together.”

She laughed, knowing he was only joking. They hadn’t
slept together in a decade, since the end of their brief affair, and she knew
they never would again. After the long, intense years of friendship, it would
have been like sleeping with her brother. “You get a real kick outta pushing
his buttons, don’t you?”

The vampire’s response was almost painfully dry.
“Seeing as how he’d love nothing more than to dismember me, I think a little
button pushing is only fair.”

“I seem to recall you having that effect on a lot of
people,” she murmured, arching her brow.

“What can I say?” His mouth curled with a slow, cocky
smile. “It’s a talent I’ve spent decades perfecting.”

“I meant to ask you before,” she said, changing the
subject, “did you manage to get in touch with Gideon before we entered the
Wasteland?”

He shook his head, his expression revealing his
concern. “I couldn’t get through to him, but I left a message for him with one
of our cousins.”

“I hope he’s okay.”

He sighed, saying that he did, too, then asked, “So
seriously, what’s the deal with the Big Bad Wolf?”

“There is no deal,” she said flatly. “At least, not
one I should want to be a part of. Like I told you last night, he’s just using
me.”

Instead of agreeing with her, Ashe surprised her by
saying, “You sure about that?”

Morgan snorted. “Pretty sure.” The edges of her words
were rough with frustration. “He just doesn’t like to share his toys.”

Watching her closely, he offered, “You know, angel. It
could be that his jealousy is born from something deeper.”

“Not likely,” she scoffed, knowing it would be emotional
suicide if she allowed herself even the slightest shred of hope.

“Make as many arguments as you like, but I’m right
about the wolf. He wants you.”

“And you’re starting to sound like a know-it-all,” she
muttered, slanting him a disgruntled look.

“It’s a tough job,” he drawled with a lopsided grin,
“but someone has to have all the answers. Just think about what I said, Morgan.
Because when a man chooses to fight against a psychopath like Sabin, I don’t
care what he might say. It sure as hell means something.”

She rubbed her hands against her upper arms. “God.
Just whose side are you on, anyway?”

He leaned forward to press a tender kiss against her
forehead. “Yours, sweetheart. Always yours.” Then he straightened and turned to
walk away.

“Where are you going?” she asked, gripping his arm.

Ashe jerked his chin toward the door. “He’ll be coming
back soon. I’m going to make myself scarce.”

“That’s not necessary,” she protested, but he lifted
his hand, gently placing his fingers across her lips.

“Shh. Let’s not waste time arguing, because I know my
limits.” A quick, crooked smile touched the corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid
listening to you and the wolf might be more than I can stomach.”

Grasping his wrist, Morgan pulled his fingers from her
face, determined to protest his decision. “But that’s hardly fair, Ashe. You
hate the cold.”

“I won’t stay out too long. In an hour or so, I can
climb through the window into the other bedroom and catch some sleep. And hell,
it’s not like the cold will kill me.”

“You are so impossible sometimes,” she breathed out,
suddenly realizing that she was actually worried about being left alone with
Kierland. Not because he scared her—but because of her desperate longing to
find something in him that simply wasn’t there.

“And just so you know,” Ashe told her, pushing a lock
of hair back from her face. “I’m willing to give him a chance to prove himself,
for your sake. But if he hurts you, I’m killing him. No arguments. He’s a dead
man.”

The sound of the door being jerked open made her jump,
and she stiffened, her face burning from the force of Kierland’s gaze as he
came back into the cabin. Morgan didn’t need to look at him to know he was
glaring at her and Ashe.

The Watchman didn’t say anything as the door slammed
shut behind him. He just walked across the wood-planked floor, coming to a stop
in front of the roaring fire in the hearth, his back to the room. But his
silence spoke volumes.

Ashe took hold of her upper arms and gave her a gentle
squeeze as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Then he gave
her one of those slow melting smiles that would have made most women weak in
the knees, and turned away, silently making his way out of the cabin.

Okay, she thought, pressing one hand to her hammering
heart as she turned to look at Kierland. Let’s see what you’ve got.

He still stood there facing the crackling flames of
the fire, but now he leaned forward a little, his freshly scraped hands braced against
the heavy mantle, long fingers digging into the dark wood. As she ran her gaze
up the mouthwatering lines of his body, across the powerful shape of his broad,
heavily muscled shoulders, Morgan couldn’t help but remember how he’d fought
for her just hours before. He’d been every bit the primal, savage warrior, his
muscle-ripped body moving with the sleek, deadly grace of a powerful
predator—which was exactly what he was—and it reminded her of how he’d moved
when he’d been inside her. Although the ache that lingered in the intimate
parts of her body had finally begun to fade, the memory still burned in her
mind, making her restless…making her crave.

Clearing her throat, she swallowed a mouthful of
nerves and carefully said, “I’d like to start over, if we can, and tell you
that I’m sorry…about this afternoon. That you had to—”

“It wasn’t your fault, so there’s no need to
apologize.” He turned around, locking his gaze with hers, the look in his
heavy-lidded eyes one of animalistic lust and aggression. “Where are you
sleeping tonight?” he asked her, the rough, husky words slipping deliciously
across her skin, leaving a wave of shivery sensation in their wake.

Morgan pulled her lower lip through her teeth, sucking
in a deep breath through her nose. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.” Soft, almost silent words, his eyes
smoldering with an unearthly fire that made her pulse race, the frenzied sound
rushing in her ears.

“You’re still jealous, aren’t you?” she whispered,
wetting her lips. “Even though I keep telling you that there’s no reason to
be.”

“What I am is starving.” His big, battle-bruised hands
twitched at his sides, his long beautiful body backlit by the flickering orange
glow of the flames. “I have been all goddamn day. So make your choice.”

“There’s no choice to make, Kier.” She lifted her
chin, and took a step closer to him. “I’m staying here. With you.”

For a moment, all he did was stand there, watching her
with those predatory eyes, the long lines of muscle and sinew in his
magnificent physique straining against the confines of his clothing. She
started to tremble, the fine vibration shivering under her skin, and the fire
in his eyes burned brighter. “If you want to keep your clothes in one piece,”
he growled in a low, guttural rasp, “then get them off. Now.”