Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (30 page)

Praying that the weapon would work the way it was
meant to, Morgan threw the “sparkler” against the ground with all her strength.
The glass vial shattered as it smashed against the forest floor, its sudden
blast of heat hurling her through the air. She landed with a hard thud on her
side, slamming her hip on a tangle of tree roots, her breath momentarily
knocked from her lungs. Before she could pull herself back to her feet,
Kierland was grabbing her up into his arms, his breathing shallow and rough as
he locked her against his chest and tried to run. But he slowed after no more
than a dozen yards, the strangest look carved into his rugged features as he
staggered against a nearby tree, his hold on her loosening as his arms began to
tremble.

“What’s wrong?” she croaked, her hands clutching the
front of his jacket as her feet slid to the ground. “Are you okay? Did they
bite you?”

“No bites,” he forced out through his clenched teeth,
his irises glowing an unearthly green as he stared into her worried eyes. “Just
got the wind knocked outta me. Go…go find Granger. Get to the cabin. I’ll catch
up when I’ve caught my breath.”

Fear coiled through her insides as she registered how
pale he was. “Are you crazy?” she cried, her heartbeat roaring in her ears.
“I’m not going anywhere without you! Damn it, Kierland, tell me what’s
happened!”

“Don’t argue with me!” he snarled, shoving her away
from him. She stumbled back, falling to the ground as she tripped over another
gnarled tree root. Fear solidified into paralyzing terror as she watched the
color drain from his face, as if someone had pulled a plug and his blood was
simply leaking out of his body. She tried to say his name, but nothing would
come out, her throat choked, voice locked tight in her pounding chest. The
flurries of snow that fell on her face and trembling lips were almost hot
compared to the cold iciness of her skin.

“Morgan.” The scratchy, whispery syllables fell from
his stiff lips, and then he swayed, staggering forward onto his knees. She
screamed, scrambling toward him, reaching him just in time to catch his heavy
weight as he fell into her arms.

“What’s happened? What’d they do to you?” she cried,
but if he heard her, he gave no indication, his lashes fluttering as his eyes
rolled back in his head.

“Ashe!” she screamed, gritting her teeth as she
struggled with Kierland’s muscled weight, trying to be gentle as she lowered
him to the ground. “Ashe! Damn it, where are you?”

The Deschanel appeared out of nowhere, his clothes and
face splattered with blood, his expression creased with deep lines of worry as
he crouched down beside her. “Where are you hurt?” he growled, his terrified
gaze moving swiftly over her kneeling body.

“I’m f-fine,” Morgan stammered, her eyes flooding with
the hot, salty burn of tears. “It’s Kier. He’s the one who needs help.”

Ashe slid his gaze toward Kierland, his eyes widening
with surprise at the sight of the Lycan sprawled on the ground. Two deep
notches settled between the vampire’s brows as he reached out, caught hold of
Kierland’s jacket and peeled back the dark fabric, revealing the shredded,
blood-soaked sweater beneath.

“Oh, holy God,” she sobbed, staring down at the
bloodied mess of Kierland’s torso. He’d been cut open across his stomach, the
pour of blood from the gruesome wound already soaking into the ground beneath
them, and as she lifted her hands to her mouth, she smelled the blood covering
her skin. She must have been in shock, not to scent it before, because it was
all over her skin, her clothes, and she realized why Ashe had thought she was
the one who’d been injured when he’d first seen her.

She was covered in Kierland’s blood. Drenched in it.

“What the hell happened?”

The snarl of Ashe’s voice made her flinch, and she
shook her head, trying to focus. But it was nearly impossible when her heart
was shattering into tiny, fractured pieces inside her chest.

“Morgan! Damn it, talk to me. What happened?”

She wet her lips, forcing the hoarse words past her
frozen lips. “There were so many vampires, and I…I started to panic. Kierland
noticed, and he just turned his back on them in the middle of the fight, trying
to reach me. They caught him, dragged him away. I…I ran after him, found them,
but there were so many, and Kierland was trying to fight them all. So I used
the ‘sparkler’ to get rid of them, but I must have been too late. They must
have cut him open before the blast killed them.”

“He has to shift,” Ashe told her, deep brackets carved
into the sides of his mouth. “It’s the only chance his body has of repairing
the damage.”

She blinked, shaking so hard her teeth were
chattering. “Will he b-be able to?”

With his elbow braced on his bent knee, Ashe blew out
a rough breath and scrubbed his blood-spattered hand over his mouth. “Hell if I
know,” he grunted, “but we should get him to the cabin first. If he can make
the shift, he’s going to be down for the count for at least twelve hours or
so.”

Tears poured down Morgan’s cheeks as she helped Ashe
carry Kierland through the woods, the snow falling harder as they finally
reached the cabin. He groaned when they laid him down on the rug before a rock
fireplace, his lashes lifting, his pain-filled gaze struggling to focus on her
face in the flickering candlelight.

“Don’t…don’t let Granger touch you,” he moaned, his
lips pulling back over his teeth as he hissed with pain. “Don’t want him
anywhere near you.”

Kneeling beside him, Morgan pushed his hair back from
his brow with a tender touch, her voice urgent as she leaned close to his face
and said, “Kier, listen to me. I know it won’t be easy, but I need you to
shift.”

“No,” he groaned, his lashes fluttering. His lips
turned gray, and a choked sob worked past the knot in her throat, her fingers
trembling as she touched his cold cheek.

“Yes, sweetheart. You have to. You’ve been hurt,” she
whispered in a broken voice. “This is the only way you’ll be able to heal.”

He groaned again, closing his eyes, and she could feel
him slipping away from her. Gripping his shoulders, she shook him a little,
shouting, “Damn it, Kier. Shift! You have to!”

“Can’t.”

“He’s fading,” Ashe told her, his long fingers pressed
to the side of Kierland’s throat, monitoring his pulse.

“Like hell he is,” she snapped, fury scorching through
her system with such stunning force, she flinched from the burn. Pulling back
her hand, Morgan focused on Kierland’s beautiful, pain-ravaged face through the
blur of tears, then slapped him as hard as she could, the blow striking against
his pale cheek. He gave a low grunt, but nothing more, and so she slapped him
again, harder, putting all her strength behind the blow. “Damn it, you’re going
to do it!” she growled, choking on her sobs.

“Morgan, honey, what are you doing?” Ashe’s deep voice
was thick with concern, and she clenched her teeth, knowing she must look like
a mad woman.

“I’m going to piss him off,” she gasped, slapping Kier
again…and again, while her chest heaved with the choppy force of her breaths.
“If he gets angry enough, he might be able to do it. To make the change.”

“Jesus, Morgan.” Ashe reached over Kierland’s bleeding
body and grabbed onto her wrists, holding her hostage in his grip as he gave
her a thunderous scowl. “And he might hurt you by accident, if he’s out of his
mind with pain. Did you think of that? If he shifts out of anger, he’s liable
to kill you!”

“I don’t care!” she shouted, tugging on her wrists.
“I’m not going to lose him. Not now. Not like this!”

With a resigned sigh, Ashe released his hold on her
and leaned back on his heels. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Morgan pulled
back her hand and smacked it against the side of Kierland’s face again.
Finally, his eyes fluttered open, glowing an even brighter shade of green, his
lip curling as he glared up at her. He cursed something ugly and raw, demanding
to know what she was doing in a slurry, pain-filled scrape of words, and she
hit him again, even harder. Another hit, and his head shot back, his body
jerking with a hard jolt at the same time his fangs began to descend beneath
the firm curve of his upper lip.

“It’s working,” Ashe said in a low, gritty voice.
“Keep going. But do it with your claws. You’re running out of time.”

Refusing to look any lower than Kierland’s chest,
knowing the sight of his blood-soaked body would only make her hysterical,
Morgan released her short claws, held her breath, then raked them across the
now flushed skin of his cheek, drawing crimson slashes of blood. A thick,
guttural snarl ripped from his chest, and Ashe grabbed onto Kierland’s wrists,
pinning them against the floor as she choked back the bile in her throat and
clawed him again.

Straining against Ashe’s hold, Kierland’s gaze locked
with hers, the glowing green filled with pain and confusion and a primal,
savage fury.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears streaming down her
face as she clawed at his other cheek, her fingers slick with his blood. “I’m
so sorry.”

“We want him pissed,” Ashe grunted. “Stop apologizing
and do something else. Quickly, or it’s going to be too bloody late, Morgan.”

Kierland’s eyes darkened with rage, his body
trembling, the change in him so close Morgan could feel the power of the wolf
pulsing from him in sharp, visceral waves that were blisteringly hot against
her chilled skin. His furious gaze cut to Ashe, then back to her, and she
suddenly knew what to do. How to push him over the edge.

Feeling like the cruelest bitch alive, she drew in
another shuddering breath and leaned forward, putting her mouth at his ear as
she said, “If you leave me, Kier, I’m going to run off with Ashe. I’ll…I’ll
marry him. Be his mate. Have his children.”

“It’s working,” Ashe rasped, struggling to hold down
Kierland’s wrists as deadly claws began surging through the tips of the Lycan’s
fingers, a rumbling snarl working its way up from his chest. “Keep going.”

“I’ll go to bed with him,” she choked out, pressing
her hands to his shoulders as she tried to help Ashe keep him restrained.
Staring at the strong tendons in his throat, unable to face the look in his
eyes, she hardened her voice and said, “I’ll let him use me, however he wants.
In any way that he wants. I’ll let him take my blood when he’s buried deep
inside me, and I’ll scream for him. I’ll come for him. As many times as he
wants me to. I’ll—”

“Get back!” Ashe suddenly roared, shoving her so
forcefully that she skidded on her side halfway across the room. Sitting up,
she pushed her tangled hair out of her face, her eyes widening as Kierland’s
body began to shake with vicious, violent spasms, arching nearly a foot off the
floor, his claw-tipped arms flung wide at his sides. He let out a stark,
guttural cry, and his bones began to crack and pop and expand, clothes
shredding as his skin darkened to a rich rosewood and thick, wine-dark fur
spread over his shifting, healing physique, the change fully upon him now.

“For God’s sake, be careful,” Ashe muttered, and from
the corner of her eye, Morgan could see the vampire backing slowly toward the
door, while he kept a wary eye on Kierland’s changing body.

“Where are you going?” she asked, using the back of
her sleeve to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Considering what it took to get the results you
wanted,” Ashe offered in a wry drawl, “I think this is my cue to leave. I’ll be
keeping an eye on things outside, making sure nothing bothers us.” He slid her
a tight, crooked smile, adding, “You just make sure he doesn’t come looking for
me, angel.”

And with those teasing words, the door to the cabin
closed…and she was left alone with Kierland. The raspy, gritty sound of her
name being whispered had her looking in his direction, and she blinked with
wonder at the sight of his massive, wolf-shaped head turned toward her, his
huge body trembling as he tried to push himself up on his arms.

“Don’t try to move,” she whispered, crawling toward
him on her hands and knees. She was so shaky, she didn’t trust her legs not to
crumple beneath her. “You were injured, and we had…we had to get you to shift.
You just need to rest now. Your body will do the rest.”

He looked from her, to the rug, then back to her
again, and cocked his head to the side, asking for what he wanted with drowsy,
luminous green eyes.

A shaky smile touched her mouth, and she said, “Hold
on a sec. I just need to get a fire started.”

Morgan could feel him watching her as she fumbled with
the matches, trying to light the kindling that had been left beneath the sturdy
stack of logs in the hearth. As the flames began to smolder and spit, she
turned toward him, her arms wrapped over her chest, and knelt at the edge of
the rug, unable to stop staring. Despite having known Kierland for so many
years, she’d never seen him in full “were” form before, and it was a
mesmerizing sight. He was breathtakingly beautiful. Massive. Bigger than an actual
wolf, with fur and fangs and a muzzled face, but a body that still retained
shades of the man in the powerful arms and legs. He could have torn her apart
with a single swipe of his terrifying claws, but she wasn’t afraid. She knew he
would never harm her. Not physically. Even when she’d slashed him with her
claws, he hadn’t attacked her. Would have probably let her kill him before
raising his hand to her. She didn’t understand, but she was too tired to figure
it out. All she knew was that she wanted to be close to him, to watch over him.