Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (29 page)

ALTHOUGH THEY’D BEEN traveling through treacherous
territory all day, they’d avoided running into any of the Carrington vampires,
thanks to Ashe’s knowledge of the area. After carefully navigating their way
through a steep, rocky ravine that bordered the lands claimed by the Carrington
nest, they were finally nearing the place where they’d be taking shelter for
the night, and Morgan was again grateful for the chance to get out of the cold.

“Look down there,” Ashe murmured, nodding his dark
head toward the east, where the silvery gleam of the moon illuminated a small
structure in the valley below, nestled amid a bower of fir trees. The cabin was
one of several that were used by the Förmyndares when they traveled into the
Wasteland, but it was only by chance that they’d found themselves near enough
to use it, the “pull” of Kellan’s blood that she was following thankfully
leading them through this particular valley. “We should be there in another
twenty minutes or so.”

“Thank God,” Morgan groaned. “My feet feel like
they’re going to fall off.”

“And you need to eat,” Kierland murmured at her side,
the rough note of concern in his deep voice making her smile. After the wild,
melt-your-brain-down orgasms he’d given her the night before, they’d caught a
few hours of sleep, wrapped around each other like some erotic work of art.
When he’d woken her, his dark voice whispering in her ear that it was time for
them to head out, Morgan had stiffened with nerves, worried about how he would
treat her after the things that had happened during the night. All the words
that had been growled and whispered and confessed. It was with a startling rush
of pleasure that she realized he wasn’t going to take ten steps back and act
like a belligerent prick. Instead, he’d been mellow, kind of quiet, lost in his
thoughts, but…close. He’d stayed by her side, making sure she was okay, helping
her when they had to make their way through tricky passages or across narrow,
rickety bridges.

He’d even been less confrontational toward Ashe, who
kept sliding her teasing, lopsided grins when Kierland wasn’t looking, the
I-told-you-so look in the Deschanel’s brilliant gray eyes making her flush with
color as she tried to warn him with her dark glares to cut it out.

“If you guys can get a fire started when we reach the
cabin,” she murmured, bracing her hand on one of Kierland’s hard shoulders as
he helped her down the last boulder, the thicket of trees spreading out before
them the final obstacle before they reached shelter, “I’ll heat up the cans of
soup we brought. It’s not much, but at least it’ll be hot.”

The Lycan flashed her a sexy grin, then moved behind
her, taking up the rear as Ashe led the way down the narrow path that wound
through the woods.

Morgan’s mind wandered as they hiked deeper into the
towering forest, shifting between worried thoughts for Kell and nervous
misgivings about the state of her heart. She’d known that getting involved on a
physical level with the gorgeous werewolf was going to seriously mess with her
emotions, but she’d had no idea just how deeply she would be affected. Instead
of it hurting when he walked away, it was going to rip a big aching hole out of
the center of her chest. No way to avoid it. The damage was done. And yet, even
knowing how it was going to end, she couldn’t stop thinking about what it would
be like the next time she got her hands on him.

She’d tried to come up with a way to explain the mad
intensity of her need and her crazy, out-of-control emotions, but she couldn’t.
All she knew was that it went far beyond the surreal, mind-shattering ecstasy
that he drenched her in, to something deeper…and infinitely more devastating.
When he touched her body, he found his way to some sheltered, shadowed part
inside of her that had been cold and dark and silent for years, but was now
screaming at the top of its lungs, craving warmth and light and noise.

“Does it seem a little too quiet all of a sudden?”
Ashe murmured, his low voice pulling her out of her internal thoughts as he
came to a stop on the path before her, his dark head turning slowly as he
stared into the murky depths of the forest.

Slick, icy fear shuddered through Morgan’s veins, and
she shivered, her lips trembling. “I have a bad feeling,” she whispered, the
uneasy sensation of being watched prickling at the back of her neck.

They each dropped the heavy packs they were carrying
on the ground, and Kierland moved closer to her side, sliding a sharp look
toward Ashe, who was lifting his nose to the air. “You scent anything?”

The Deschanel shook his head, his handsome face pulled
into grim lines of frustration as he looked at them over his shoulder. “But I
gotta admit, I’m suddenly getting that bad vibe, as well.”

“There’s something here,” Morgan murmured. “Something
close.”

Before Kierland was able to respond, the forest
exploded with movement. It was like something out of a movie, the perfect
choreography of bodies soaring through the air, dropping from the upper
branches of the trees to trap them on the path, dozens of pairs of silver eyes
glowing with predatory fire in the moonlit shadows of the forest.

Kierland cursed something harsh and gritty, shoving
her against a tree and planting his big, muscled body in front of her as they
found themselves facing a feral nest of redheaded Deschanel vampires. Their
lethal fangs were already fully distended, as well as their razor-tipped
talons. And in the center of the group was Micah Sabin, his tall body still
clothed in the same ragged, bloodstained clothes he’d been wearing the day
before, a fresh bruise darkening one cheek, his chin and throat sporting
streaks of dried, midnight-colored blood.

“Micah?” she gasped, peering around Kierland’s broad
shoulder. “How did you get free? Where’s Juliana?”

“Juliana is probably back at our compound, wringing
her hands like a good little girl, worried about what I’m going to do to her
new friends,” he sneered, the look of madness in his eyes even more pronounced
than it’d been the last time they’d seen him.

“They just let you go?” Ashe asked him, keeping a
careful eye on the surrounding vampires as he moved closer to her and Kierland.

The corner of Micah’s mouth curled with a snide smile.
“They didn’t have much choice, considering I managed to get my talons around
the throat of one of my cousins. She was a sweet little thing,” he rasped, his
chest heaving with the force of his breaths. “Poor Jules couldn’t stand the
thought of her getting hurt.”

Bile rose in her throat, and Morgan had to cough
before she could ask, “And where is the girl now, Micah? Is she okay?”

He flinched, his eyes tightening for a fraction of a
second, and he shook his head as if to shake free of an unwanted memory. “I
don’t know where she is,” he answered in a thick, broken voice, then shook his
head again, that wild look of feral aggression washing over him once more.
“It…it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I found you. Been looking for you
all bloody night and day.”

“And who are your friends?” Kierland prompted, his
voice deceptively soft as he slowly drew his gun from behind his back, while
Morgan and Ashe did the same.

Micah sent Ashe a hard smile. “They’re Carringtons. I
knew, from what you told Juliana, that you were heading for the new Kraven
compound. When I escaped, I made my way to the Carringtons and offered them a
deal, since they’re always desperate to get their hands on fresh meat. Told
them that I’d share the meal, if they’d help me catch you.”

“And now what?” Ashe growled, sounding every bit the
deadly warrior that she knew he could be.

Jerking his chin toward Kierland, Micah said, “They
get the two of you, and I get the woman.”

“We won’t let you have her,” Kierland stated in a calm
voice, but Morgan could hear the undercurrent of rage that roughened the edges
of his words.

The vampire started to say something in response, then
flinched, his brow pulling tight, as if with pain, the poison polluting his
bloodstream no doubt ravaging his sanity, as well as his body.

“Micah,” she murmured, keeping her voice soft…gentle,
“you don’t have to do this.”

“You’re wrong.” His chest jerked with the heaviness of
his ragged breathing, his skin clammy and pale. “I have to. I haven’t been able
to get you out of my head. You…you smell too good. I…can’t stop thinking about
it. Your blood. Your body.”

“You can’t have her,” Kierland repeated, the low words
carefully drawn out, as if he was speaking to a confused child. “I understand
how you feel, but you can’t have her, Sabin. She’s mine.”

“Not for long,” Micah rasped, and as he signaled with
his hand, the Carrington vampires attacked.

“Don’t let them bite you!” Ashe shouted, firing off
shots as the poisonous vamps rushed toward them. “Remember, they’re
contagious!”

Though they were each unloading a steady stream of
bullets, there were too many wild-eyed, bloodthirsty monsters charging them.
Both men were forced to engage in hand-to-hand combat, doing everything they
could to keep Morgan protected behind them. When one of the poisonous bastards
snapped at Ashe’s arm, barely missing his powerful forearm, the handsome
Deschanel went ballistic, his gun slipped back into the waistband of his jeans
as he released his talons and began to rip out throats with deadly accuracy. It
was a gruesome, blood-spattered scene, but Morgan didn’t have time to be
squeamish. Kierland had his hands full fighting off Micah and the rest of the
Carringtons, and Morgan forced herself to stay calm as she aimed her Glock and
took shot after shot, doing her best to help.

But it wasn’t easy.

The feral, poisonous vampires reminded her too much of
the ones who’d killed Nicole all those years ago, and she could feel the icy
twinges of panic struggling to take hold of her. Fear swamped her system, perspiration
dotting her upper lip, trailing down the side of her face, her lungs
constricting. Catching sight of her panicked expression, Kierland started
toward her, and Micah and the rest of the Carringtons took immediate advantage
of the situation. With his back exposed to his enemies, they sprang at the
distracted Lycan and mobbed him. Morgan screamed with rage as the group dragged
Kierland away and disappeared into the darkness of the forest. She shouted for
Ashe, but he was too busy fighting off his own attackers.

Gotta do this myself. Can’t lose him. Would rather die
than lose him.

With a deep breath, Morgan gripped her gun in both
hands and set off running, thanking God every second of the way that she’d
taken Kierland’s blood, since she was able to follow the “pull” that led her
toward him. They were dragging him deeper and deeper into the dense woods, the
thickening darkness making it nearly impossible to see where she was going.
Something snarled at her, rushing her from her left and she lifted the gun,
firing her last bullet with a shot that nailed the vampire right between his
silver eyes. He went down. And stayed down. Morgan knew the shot wouldn’t kill
him, but it was going to take him a hell of a long time to heal, and she hoped
his ass was a frozen block of ice before he regained consciousness.

Ignoring the trembling fear scraping down every nerve
ending in her body, she chained her infuriating panic into submission and kept
moving, stumbling again and again as she followed the “pull” that led her
toward Kierland. It was stronger than any other she’d ever felt, and it wasn’t
just centered in her chest. She could feel it burning in every cell of her
body, her entire being focused on following him…finding him.

With a stifled curse on her lips, she pushed through a
thicket of something sharp and thorny, and had to choke back a cry at what she
found on the other side. Kierland stood in the center of a small clearing,
arguing with Micah, while the Carringtons surrounded him, and she was out of
freaking bullets! She had only one weapon left—the tiny glass vial, or
“sparkler,” that Gideon had left for Kierland in his apartment. Morgan had
remembered to ask Ashe what it was for while they’d been hiking the day before,
and he’d explained that it was a sort of bomb. Though not like any explosive
she’d ever known. Specifically created to kill vampires, a “sparkler” created a
blast of magic designed to annihilate any Deschanel within a twenty-foot
radius. Gideon had obviously thought it was the perfect weapon to give them,
considering they had been headed for the Wasteland.

Morgan could only pray to God that it worked.

Using her blood-tracking ability to determine Ashe’s
whereabouts, making sure he wasn’t within the bomb’s blast radius, she took a
deep breath. Then she drew back her arm and lifted the “sparkler” high in the
air, ready to slam it to the ground just like Ashe had instructed her to do.
None of the vampires noticed, their focus on Kierland as he roared at Micah
that if he had any balls, he’d stop hiding behind the Carringtons and fight him
one-on-one. Micah shouted back, pacing from one side of the clearing to the
other, and just as the Deschanel turned in Morgan’s direction, he caught sight
of her from the corner of his eye, his wild gaze zeroing in on the small vial
she held in her hand. He might have been out of his mind, but he recognized the
weapon. Just as the vampire turned to run, chaos erupted in the clearing, the
Carringtons losing their patience and attacking Kierland, who looked like a
thundering god as he took on all of them at once, his powerful body twisting
and turning with a sinuous, predatory grace that would have been beautiful to
watch, if she hadn’t been so petrified for his safety.