Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (21 page)

Surprised by the urgency she could sense in his husky
words, Morgan started to ask him what was wrong, when the door behind him
opened and four fair-haired Deschanel vampires came through, their pale eyes
narrowing with fury when they spotted her and Kierland.

“What the hell is this?” the tallest of the group
snarled, his gray eyes sliding over her face, before landing with a wrathful
look of accusation on Ashe, who had turned to face the group.

Morgan didn’t have a clue what was going on, but
whatever it was, she had no doubt that it was going to be bad. Sensing serious
danger, she was thankful that Kierland had moved closer to her side as she
whispered, “Ashe?”

Under his breath, Ashe said, “Not now, Morgan.”

“You working with these Watchmen?” the vamp on the far
left growled.

“It’s not what you think,” Ashe told them, holding his
hands up in one of those universal signals of Let’s just calm down and take it
easy. “I just ran into an old friend.”

Dread turned cold in Morgan’s veins, and she reached
out, curling her fingers around Ashe’s powerful arm. “What exactly were you
doing in that room?”

“Shh,” he whispered, shaking free of her touch as he
stepped toward the blond vampires.

“I knew we couldn’t trust him,” snarled the tallest
one again, looking around at his comrades. “Förmyndares are all the same. He
wasn’t interested in making a deal. He was just trying to set us up.”

“Deacon’s right,” one of the others grunted, his face
turning splotchy with rage.

“Morgan, get out of here,” both Kierland and Ashe
commanded at the same time, their deep voices shredding her pride. Obviously,
neither of them thought she was strong enough to fight, expecting her to just
turn tail and run. She wanted to tell them both off and stand her ground, but
she could already feel the icy tendrils of panic clutching onto her throat at
the thought of facing the vampires, the irrational fear like a set of murderous
hands squeezing off her air supply.

Morgan turned on her heel, her vision swimming,
knowing only that she needed to flee, to escape—but there was nowhere to go.
Another half dozen golden-haired vampires were now blocking them from the rest
of the club, their pale gazes focused directly on her.

Oh, hell, she thought, stumbling back a step, her
heart all but pounding its way through her chest. As the sounds of battle broke
out behind her, the wall of vampires moved closer, their eyes burning with
hunger and rage. A screaming darkness crashed through Morgan’s mind, her lungs
burning, aching, desperate for air….

And then her world turned black.

AFTER MORGAN’S BLOODCURDLING scream caught their
attention, Kierland and Granger finished off the four foulmouthed vampires
who’d started the fight. Then they went after the second group who were
taunting a clearly hysterical Morgan. The club’s human customers had moved
back, giving them a wide berth as they battled against the remaining blond
vamps, all of whom looked to be related to the four that had followed Ashe out
of that private room…and were now knocked unconscious on the floor.

Whatever Granger was mixed up in, Kierland would have
been willing to bet his fortune that it wasn’t good or legal or sane.

With the large human presence in the club, no one
released their claws, talons or fangs, making the fight purely a contest of
skill. The vampires were ruthless, but not as well trained as he and Granger.
With a bone-crunching kick to the last vamp’s jaw, the bastard went down…and
stayed down. Pushing his hair back from his face, Kierland immediately turned
toward Morgan, a low growl rumbling up from the depths of his chest at the
sight of Ashe Granger already kneeling beside her. She sat on the floor, blood
dripping unchecked from her nose, her eyes still hazy and unfocused with panic
as she stared blankly into space. She’d obviously tried to fight the assholes,
but hadn’t been able to hold her own against them under the circumstances.

Not that he had any better understanding of what those
circumstances were, except that she didn’t do well when crowded in by people…or
vampires.

With Ashe on her right, Kierland dropped to his knees
on her left. He reached out to place a careful hand on her shoulder, and she
flinched, shaking her head, her lashes fluttering. “It’s over,” he told her,
keeping his voice as gentle as possible. She turned her head, blinking as she
gave him a slight, shaky smile, and he started to reach for her, intending to
lift her into his arms, when she turned to look at Ashe. In the next instant,
she launched herself at the Deschanel, all but crawling her way up the guy’s
body.

“Get your damn hands off her,” Kierland bit out, as
Ashe clutched Morgan against his sweater-covered chest and moved to his feet.

The vampire rolled his gray eyes and started to step
around him, but Kierland moved into his path, blocking his way, unable to
control the rage that clawed through him at the sight of her in Granger’s arms.
He had no justification for it. No valid reason for objection, and certainly
none that he would own up to, but it didn’t stop him from saying, “If she needs
to be held, then I’ll do it.”

Granger appeared torn between irritation and
amusement. “It isn’t sexual, you ass. I’m comforting her.”

Baring his fangs, he repeated, “I’ll do it.”

Morgan’s face burrowed deeper into the vampire’s
shoulder, her arms locked tight around his neck, and Granger slid Kierland a
taunting smirk. “Call me crazy, wolf, but I don’t think she wants you to.”

“And you think you know what she wants?” he demanded in
a quiet snarl, wanting to throw it in the arrogant vamp’s face that Morgan had
spent the afternoon in bed with him. That just hours ago, he was the man who’d
been driving into her, making her scream with pleasure. The only thing that
stopped him was the thought of how Morgan would react if he did it, which only
pissed him off even more.

He didn’t want to take her feelings into account, damn
it. Especially when she was clinging onto the vamp like she wanted to slip
under his freaking skin.

“I think I know her wants a hell of a lot better than
you do,” Ashe murmured in response to his question. “What were you thinking,
taking her into a club full of vampires?”

“What do vamps have to do with anything?” he forced
out through his gritted teeth.

“She can’t stand them.” Granger’s head cocked a little
to the side, his tone tinged with derision as he guessed, “Or didn’t you know?”

Sweeping his gaze over the way she’d plastered herself
against Granger’s chest, Kierland made a thick, sarcastic sound in the back of
his throat. “Yeah, she really looks like she can’t stand you.”

For a moment the Deschanel simply stared at him, and
then a mocking smile slowly curled his mouth, revealing the tip of a fang, and
he pulled Morgan closer to his chest. “I’m the rare exception to the rule. She
trusts me. Knows I’d rather die than hurt her.” A pause, and then he added,
“Which is more than can be said for the other men in her life.”

“I’m not fighting with you now.” Kierland ground out
the words, his rage and frustration like a physical thing in his body, punching
against his insides, his wolf wanting the vamp’s blood the way an addict wanted
his fix. “But as soon as she’s calmed down, I’m kicking your ass.”

“I’ll look forward to you trying,” Ashe drawled,
heading toward the front exit as Kierland stepped aside, then followed after
them. No one bothered the two tall, grim-looking males as they made their way
through the club, the human guests giving them a wide berth. “Where are you
staying?” the vampire asked, once they were standing on the sidewalk, the
bitter January winds whipping at their clothes and hair.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Kierland told
him they had rooms at the Whitney. Then he kept pace at Granger’s side as the
vampire headed north toward the hotel. “You gonna explain what you were up to
back there?”

His voice flat, Granger said, “Work.”

“You’re on assignment?” he growled, knowing that the
Förmyndares sometimes worked undercover for the Consortium on special cases,
infiltrating Deschanel organizations whose illegal activities threatened the
security of the clans.

“It’s not any of your goddamn business, but I’m not
working for the Consortium,” Granger replied, his tone thick with scorn. “Not
all of us care to sit around and wait for orders to be handed down. If there’s
a problem, we deal with it.”

It wasn’t the first time Kierland had heard that sort
of insult levied against the Watchmen and their rules of engagement, and it
wouldn’t be the last. The highly trained shifters were never meant to interfere
in the workings of the clans until their superiors said differently. They kept
“watch” over the preternatural species and reported their findings, only acting
when the Consortium ordered them to.

At least, that was how it was meant to work. The first
time Kierland had broken the rules, Nicole had lost her life. His knee-jerk
reaction had been to follow all future orders to the letter, to the point of
obsession—until the Casus had returned and the Buchanans had needed his unit’s
help. And ever since Kierland and his friends had chosen to act on their own
orders, waging war against the Casus without the consent of the Consortium, the
Lycan had found himself breaking one rule after another. It was as if a chain
reaction had been set into motion, culminating in those intensely erotic
moments a few hours ago.

Suddenly, the Consortium’s “golden boy” had become the
biggest rule breaker of them all—not that Kierland would ever make such an
admission to Granger. Instead, he curled his lip and muttered, “The rules that
govern the Watchmen are there for a reason.”

“And are you really going to lecture me about obeying
those pompous bastards?” Granger questioned in an easy drawl. “From what I
hear, wolf, you’re no longer even on good terms with the grand ol’ Consortium.”

Kierland could have told him that the leaders now
viewed him as a loose cannon that they couldn’t control, but held his tongue.
The last thing in the world he wanted to do was make it sound like he and the
vamp actually had something in common. “My unit’s fight against the Casus is
nothing like your idea of vigilante justice, Granger, and you damn well know
it.”

“Sticks and stones,” the vampire murmured, slanting
him a wry smile as he lifted his dark brows. “And dare I ask what you’re doing
here? I’ve been trying to figure out what could possibly be dire enough to
bring you and Morgan together, then send you coming after me. But I’m
completely at a loss.”

“We need a guide through the Wasteland,” Kierland said
in a raw, muted voice.

The Deschanel cut him a hard, swift look, all traces
of sarcasm and humor dulled by shock. “What the hell for?”

Rubbing at the tension knots in the back of his neck,
Kierland explained about his brother’s plan to get captured by Westmore and
taken to the Kraven’s hidden compound, so that he could rescue Chloe Harcourt. Ashe
shook his head the instant Kierland mentioned Kell’s name, saying, “I should
have known it had something to do with Kellan. No way in hell would Morgan risk
something this insane unless someone she cared about was in trouble.”

Kierland grunted in response, his thoughts suddenly
diverted by the strange realization that he hadn’t reacted to the Deschanel’s
words with his customary possessive bite of jealousy. Two days ago, he’d have
sworn that Morgan had, at some point in the past, been to bed with his brother,
considering how close they were…and he’d have been wrong. She could have been
lying all the times she’d told him that she and Kell had never been involved
sexually, but for some illogical reason, Kierland actually believed her. He
didn’t trust her worth a damn, but he believed her. He had no proof. No
evidence. And yet, as strange as it was, his gut instincts told him that they
hadn’t.

What was even stranger was the dawning discovery that
even if they had screwed around together, Kierland would have still wanted her,
and that thought was so bloody out of character for him that he wanted to
retreat. Wanted to take ten steps back from the situation, from her, and give
his mind the time to figure out what was happening to him.

Time, however, was something he didn’t have.

He and Granger made the last block of the walk in
silence, until they reached the Whitney and took one of the side elevators up
to Morgan’s room, avoiding any curious eyes in the hotel’s lobby. “Is she
asleep?” Kierland asked, unable to see her face beneath the heavy fall of her
hair, her body relaxed in the vampire’s arms.

“Barely,” Granger murmured. “So keep your voice low.”

It was impossible to conceal his worry as he asked,
“Is this normal?”

Granger studied his expression with a mixture of
surprise and curiosity. “She reacts this way sometimes,” he finally replied.
“If the panic gets a strong enough hold on her, it pretty much wipes her out
afterward.”

As they exited the elevator on the eleventh floor,
Kierland took out the extra key they’d given him at check-in and opened the
door to her room. Stalking toward the huge window on the far side of the room,
he stared out over the glittering city, listening as Granger softly pushed the
door closed behind him. The fiercely possessive animal inside him writhed with
the urge to turn around and rip Morgan out of the vampire’s arms, but he locked
himself in place, his every muscle coiled hard and tight with seething tension.