Primal Instincts (4 page)

“You don’t look happy.”

“Is that any of your concern?” Francesca snapped at Strahan. His large presence took up a lot of space in the reception area, directly blocking the exit. “What are you doing here?”

In a way she was glad to see someone she could snarl at. She’d just been told she’d have to wait at least a week for the results of yet more tests. She’d been warned the procedure might not work for her. It had also been strongly suggested that she stop using the daylight drugs that gave her parity with mortal humans. But even if she did that, it would be
months
before the drugs were completely out of her system. Wait, wait, wait.

She was
not
a patient person.

And here, blocking her way, stood Mr. Perfect Prime himself. Everything always went this great warrior’s way.

She wanted to bite him.

Strahan had no trouble catching that thought and answered her with a show of fangs. The fierce display sent her back a step. Even worse, her body responded with a flood of tingling warmth.

“I didn’t mean bite you like
that
!” she yelled at him.

He came to her in a blur of movement. His arm came around her waist. Her body melded too perfectly against his. Hot skin, hard muscle, masculine scent.
Damn.

“Yes, you did.” His voice was a whisper, a promise.

Francesca kicked him in the shin, which only made him smile. His smile made her laugh, something a Prime hadn’t managed to do in a long time.

“Yes, I did,” she admitted. “But we won’t take it any farther and you
will
let go of me now.”

“You started it,” he said, ignoring that she’d conceded.

“I always do.”

“Do you ever apologize?”

“Rarely.”

Strahan stepped away from her, but he didn’t stop
blocking the exit. “I’m here to take you to safety.”

Francesca began to regret having turned down the offer to take up residence in the well-guarded clinic. She knew being imperious or totally nasty wouldn’t get her anywhere with the Dark Angel commander.

“I’m not going back to Idaho,” she said, wondering how many times she’d have to repeat this while he slung her over his shoulder and carried her onto an airplane. Not that the idea of being slung over his broad shoulder was in and of itself repulsive—far from it.

Strahan held up a hand. “I’ve already discussed this with your mother. She wants you to remain in Los Angeles.”

Francesca was immediately suspicious. “Really?”

“I’ve agreed to personally see to your security during the crisis. You’re coming home with me, Flare.”

“Home?”

“To the Dark Angels’ base of operations.”

Hang out with the Dark Angels? She fought off the temptation to jump up and down with delight. “You’ve agreed to personally look after me. You’re a busy Prime. What did she offer you?”

“Her support for the Dark Angels,” he answered immediately.

She gave an evil laugh. “You’re willing to put up with me for a little money?”

“For a lot of money.”

She was willing to accept this answer for now, though he was bound to have other reasons. Her mother certainly did. But she’d work around, through, or over whatever schemes came at her and be in the middle of the action instead of safely locked in a tower for once.

“You’re going to earn your fee, Strahan.”

He ducked his head and scratched his jaw, then looked back at her with a smile that tried to melt her bones. “I’m sure I will.”

You are made of asbestos
, she told herself. “What are we waiting for, Strahan? Let’s get to this headquarters of yours.”

He paced around the small apartment, nervous, annoyed by the sound of waves crashing on the nearby beach. Of course the damn selkie had to live near the ocean. He’d hated moving in to keep a constant eye on her, but he did what was necessary.

Someone was playing Christmas music in a nearby apartment. It was almost as irritating as the repetitious pounding of the surf. Peace on Earth? Not likely. Not as long as monsters roamed it and tried to rule it.

She was late. Why? Had the monsters decided it was best for all of them to hide inside the clinic? Had she somehow managed to break free of the mental
conditioning that bound her to him? She hadn’t shown any sign of rebellion but the creatures were clever . . .

He rushed from the kitchen into the living room the instant the door opened. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

The creature flinched at his harshness. She looked like a small, frightened woman, but he knew what she really was. He wouldn’t let himself have any dangerous, soft emotions about her no matter how vulnerable she pretended to be.

“Where have you been?” he asked again.

“Christmas shopping,” she answered. “My friend Kea asked me to go. A Dark Angel came along. He and Kea talked a lot when they weren’t flirting.”

Christmas shopping? Flirting? He was constantly disgusted at these monsters’ parodying of real people. In the deep past they’d stayed hidden in their dark lairs instead of mingling with their victims. Part of the reason for this operation was to drive them back into the dark where they belonged. Where their influence on humans would once again be minimal.

If he and the other hunters had their way, they’d destroy the night creatures altogether. But they had their uses, so leaving a minimum number of the monsters alive was part of the devil’s bargain they’d made.

“What did your
friend
and the vampire talk about? It
better be important.”

She’d been obedient about bringing him information ever since the vampire had brainwashed her. He still reinforced the fear constantly to make sure the creature continued to be of service.

Her shoulders slumped and she wouldn’t look at him when she spoke. “Rose Cameron is still staying at the clinic.”

“What’s her condition?” he demanded.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t get in to see her today. Tony won’t let anybody into her room. The Prime told Kea that even Tobias wasn’t allowed in and he’s been put in charge of everything.”

“Is she aging rapidly?”

The vampire would want to know, as would whoever was behind the vampire. He’d been told the layers of secrecy were in place to keep everyone safe, but he didn’t feel at all safe here, at the level closest to their informant inside the monsters’ stronghold.

“She was fine when I saw her this morning. She’s been with Tony since they returned from the Shagal Citadel.”

He stepped closer to her, lifted her chin. She still wouldn’t look him in the eye. “What was that meeting about? Did your talkative vampire friend tell you?”

Was that a hint of a smile? A brief flicker of satisfaction?

He shook her. He wasn’t allowed to beat her. “What?” he demanded.

She didn’t answer until he let her go. “They were all there at the Shagal Citadel—the Clan females. There and gone. Tobias got them away from you.”

He swore. The Hunters and their monstrous allies all wanted to get possession of the Clan and Family females. The Hunters had killed many vampire females in the past and wanted to do so again—it was the surest way of wiping out the race. Of course the Tribe vampire had other plans for captured females. A compromise had yet to be worked out, but the females were sought-after prizes.

“All the females have been evacuated? You’re sure?”

The selkie was programmed never to lie to him. “All but two of them. One’s joined the Dark Angels. The other one is under Tobias’s protection. That’s all I know.”

She’d given him some things to think over. Not that he was supposed to think. He was supposed to report, and only to his vampire contact.

“One more thing,” he said. “You didn’t mention to this Prime that you had a human boyfriend living with you, did you?”

“Of course not! I’d never tell a vampire about you.”

She glanced at the door as though expecting it to crash open. He’d been worried about that himself.

“You haven’t told anyone about me, have you?”

Tears leaked from her eyes. She whispered, “I—no.”

The pain in her voice was most satisfying. “Good. Go to your room.”

An incoming call on Tobias’s earpiece demanded his attention before he could escort Flare out the door. He paused, one hand on the smooth skin of her arm. While he gave his attention to the call, his senses absorbed silky warmth and heady female scent.

“Go,” he told the caller.

“Need your opinion on a possible lead,” Joe Bleythin answered.

“I’m listening.”

Joe’s reply was succinct and toneless. “Sid and I were involved in the discovery of the Hunyara werewolf tamers. The bad guys then were a group of feral werewolves. I killed a couple of ferals that were
guarding the place where Rose Cameron was being kept. This tells me we didn’t get the entire feral group when we cleaned out their den up in the Northwest. But the lead Sid and I would like to follow here in L.A. involves a feral pack that attacked a Hunyara some years back. Those three ferals are dead, but tracing them might lead to the origin of the feral connection with our current bad guys.”

“We have some stuff on the incident in the database.” Tobias had been collecting seemingly random facts for a long time. “Have Sasha look it up.”

“Will do. Sid’s also got a call in to the Hunyara who was attacked—she’s bonded with a Family Prime—to check her memories. I’d like to take a look at those ferals’ den.”

“You’re my best nose, Joe, but do you think you can sniff out any information after all these years?”

“I’d like to give it a shot. And Sid’s telepathy might come in handy asking around the ferals’ neighborhood.”

Tobias considered the request and the best uses of manpower. “Have your look. But do it fast. Don’t get any locals involved.” The protocol for this op was to unobtrusively protect the people being targeted while keeping them out of the action no matter how much this annoyed the local Primes and werefolk.

“Understood.”

Francesca wanted to break the contact with Strahan. She wanted to step away, to deny the contact with him. But it was the permeating awareness that kept her in place as the connection went deeper by the second. He paid her no attention and she was glad of it.

Strong. Ruthless. Leader. Completely focused and disciplined. Driven.

The Perfect Prime, he’d been called. The Perfect Warrior. Francesca felt the truth of it permeating his spirit. His spirit thrilled her. It also terrified her, because this was just the sort of male she was strongly attracted to.

Primes weren’t the only men who were perfect warriors.

She’d known such a man and lost him and wasn’t going through that hell again. She didn’t have to. The hell was always going to be part of her.

Francesca swore viciously and pulled away from Strahan. The emptiness that washed through her was easier to live with than the connection.

“This is way too emo,” she muttered, angry with herself, and stared out the glass door at palm trees and colorful flowering bushes until the threat of tears passed. She’d lost all enthusiasm for spending time among the Dark Angels by the time Strahan came up to her.

He took her arm again. “Let’s go.”

Francesca jerked away but managed to squelch the impulse to shout at him to leave her alone. Her Matri had ordered this. She’d agreed to it. She couldn’t argue, but she didn’t have to take defeat gracefully.

“Fine,” she said. “Let’s just get it over with.”

He ignored her pouting and tilted an eyebrow sardonically at her. “I’m delighted to hear you say that.”

He reached out again, but she walked out the door ahead of him toward a black SUV parked in front of the main door. Wanting his touch far too much to allow it, she projected haughty pride to cover how shaken she was.

Flare’s mercurial. That’s what Flare is. One moment I think this might be a pleasant experience. Then she snaps at me, and there’s no fun in having my pride bitten.

Tobias drove in silence while his thoughts raged and physical awareness of the ice princess beside him fueled the heat of his mood. He ran his tongue over his slightly extended fangs, which ached to sink into Flare’s throat, her wrists, her thighs. He wanted his tongue on her nipple and his teeth in—

Calm down! Eyes on the road. Mind on the op. No biting. I will
not
taste her. I’ll have her, but without blood. I will not take or give a single drop if I know what’s good for me.

His aching fangs told him that tasting Flare would be the most erotic experience of his life. But he’d plenty of experience in ignoring his anatomy’s opinions. He’d worked through pain and fear and every other intense thing a body could go through. He’d even died once, and if a baby hadn’t been crying nearby he would happily have stayed that way. Intense attraction to one snotty beauty wasn’t going to conquer him after everything else he’d been through.

Embarrassment was the main thing he had to fear at the moment. He was glad no one had called him and that Flare sat beside him in surly silence. He would not have enjoyed the obvious sign of arousal if he had to open his mouth. As it was, Flare was no doubt aware of all the heat coming off of him. She was no doubt wallowing in her famous power over every Prime in the universe.

“Just how many Primes are there in the universe?” she asked.

His gaze cut her way for an instant before he looked back at the busy freeway. He counted bright lights coming toward them from the opposite lanes of traffic, but he saw an afterimage of her curious look and the lush curve of Flare’s lips in a faint smile.

Goddess, she is beautiful!

And she was a far better telepath than he’d realized.

It’s the beauty and the bitch people see, not the
brains. I like to keep it that way. Besides, you’ve been shouting into my head for hours.

We haven’t been on the road for hours.

Seems like it.

He knew how good his shielding was. How had she gotten around it?

“Not on purpose,” she said. “How many Primes are there, do you think? If anyone’s done a census, it would be you Dark Angels.”