Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (5 page)

He seamlessly slid the car up a gear, speeding down
the street, and rumbled, “Maybe now would be a good time to tell me what you’re
doing here, before we get attacked again. Which, considering the way this night
has gone so far, could be any second now.”

“Like I said before, it’s about Kellan.”

“Did he send you here?” Everyone knew that Kellan had
been furious when Kierland had left Harrow House alone, arguing that his
brother was taking too great a risk by staying in Prague by himself.

Wetting her lips, Morgan wondered how best to ease
into what she had to say. “Not in so many words.”

He shot her a quick, hard glance. “Meaning?”

“Look.” She took a deep breath, and wrapped her hands
around the strap of her seat belt. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m
just going to spill. Kellan has gone missing.”

Silence, and then his low, graveled rasp. “What do you
mean ‘gone missing’? He’s in Norway, searching with Noah for the next Marker.”

Noah Winston was a human who had the rotten luck of
carrying Casus blood in his veins—and it was bloodlines like Noah’s that were
being used as “human hosts” for the Casus shades that escaped back to this
world from Meridian, their name for the metaphysical holding ground where they
had been imprisoned over a thousand years ago. Not wanting to end up being used
as a “body suit” by the Casus, Noah had joined Kierland’s unit a few months
ago, determined to help the Watchmen and the Merrick find a way to stop the
monsters before it was too late.

“This is kind of a long story,” she began to explain,
“so just bear with me for a minute. When Kellan and Noah came back from Finland
a few weeks ago, Kellan took me into his confidence and told me that he had a
lead he was going to follow, if things panned out for him. While he and Noah
were in Norway, they panned out.”

“A lead on what?”

“On where Chloe Harcourt is being kept.”

“Olivia’s stepsister?” he asked, shaking his head.

Once a small-town kindergarten teacher, Olivia
Harcourt was now engaged to one of Kierland’s colleagues and best friends, a
tiger-shifter named Aiden Shrader. Although Olivia was human, her father had
married into a family of half-Merrick, half-Mallory witches, giving Olivia two
stepsisters. Her eldest stepsister, Monica Harcourt, had been murdered by the
Casus several months ago, after her Merrick awakening, leaving Olivia to raise
Monica’s daughter, Jamie.

But that wasn’t the entire story. For a time, Monica
Harcourt’s ghost had been able to communicate with a psychic in Kierland’s unit
named Molly Stratton, warning them that the monsters were coming after her
daughter. She’d also been able to tell them that Chloe Harcourt, Olivia’s
youngest stepsister, who had been feared dead, was actually being held prisoner
by the Casus at their secret compound. But Monica hadn’t been able to give them
a location, and now it was too late. Once they’d reached Harrow House and she’d
known her daughter was safe, Monica’s spirit had moved on from this world.

“That’s right,” Morgan said softly, in response to his
question about Chloe. “Kellan has gone off on his own to follow the lead,
determined to rescue her.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he take such a
risk for someone who means nothing to him?” The raw, sharp-edged words were
thick with frustration, as well as fear. “I mean, it’s tragic that this girl’s
been taken, and I want her found as badly as everyone else, but that’s no
reason for Kellan to go on a damn suicide mission to get her back. She’s a
bloody stranger, for God’s sake!”

“Kell feels differently. I’m not even sure how to
describe it. But there’s some kind of connection between them.”

He made a derisive sound, changing gears with a
violence that could’ve ripped the gearshift out. “Bloody idiot. He’s never even
met her.”

Morgan had known that trying to make him understand
was going to be the hard part, or at least one of them. “He carries her picture
around in his wallet, Kier. He’s…I don’t know, obsessed with—”

“You mean he wants to screw her,” he growled,
scrubbing his hand down his face. “Christ. His goddamn dick is going to be the
death of him.”

The youngest of his Watchmen unit at twenty-six,
Kellan had a questionable reputation when it came to sex and duty and trouble.
Morgan understood Kierland’s anger, and yet, she also believed that something
was happening to Kellan. That some kind of…change was taking place in his life,
and even though she couldn’t explain it and didn’t really understand, she loved
her friend enough to know that this was something he’d had to do.

“I understand how you feel, Kier, but I think there’s
something more to it than just sex or physical attraction,” she tried to
explain.

“And does the idiot have a plan?” he asked, shaking
his head. “Or is he just going to waltz up to the Casus and ask them all
sweetly to hand her over?”

“Kellan told me that if the opportunity presented
itself, he was going to allow Westmore’s men to capture him. He thinks they’ll
take him to the secret compound where they’re keeping Chloe, and once inside,
he plans on rescuing her.”

Ross Westmore was yet another name on the long list of
enemies they had going at the moment, and he probably resided right at the top.
He appeared to be the mastermind behind the Casus’s return, though they still
didn’t understand his motivations. For a time they hadn’t even been sure of the
guy’s species, either, but then they’d discovered that he was a Kraven, the
offspring of a female Deschanel vampire who had been raped by one of the Casus
monsters before their imprisonment. Within the vampire hierarchy, the Kraven
were considered an embarrassing secret and treated little better than slaves.
It was hardly surprising, then, that Westmore had turned against the Deschanel,
convincing the Collective Generals to partner with him in exchange for the
location of several Deschanel nesting grounds. A militant organization
comprised of fanatical humans who were intent on ridding the world of all
preternatural life, the Collective Army should have wanted the Casus dead, but
their greed had gotten the better of them, and the information they’d received
from Westmore had resulted in horrific massacres.

“And did you tell Kell that he was out of his goddamn
skull?” Kierland rasped, the warm, provocative scent of his body rising with
his anger.

“No.” She turned to look at him, staring at his hard
profile.

“Of course you didn’t. Because you’re such a great
friend, huh?”

Calmly, she said, “Sarcasm isn’t going to help the
situation, Kierland. But you already know that, don’t you?”

He growled, scrubbing the palm of his hand over the
bristled surface of his jaw again, the faint shadow of his ginger-colored beard
coming through, adding to his rugged appeal. “How did he get away from Noah in
Norway? Noah isn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t have let Kell just walk away.”

They made a sharp turn, and Morgan had to brace
herself. “There was a fight when Kell told him that he was leaving,” she
explained, while they crossed over the Vltava River. “It got pretty rough, and
according to Noah, Kellan actually went wolf on him.”

“Jesus,” he responded. “I’m surprised they didn’t kill
each other.”

“Noah came back this morning pretty banged up, but I’m
sure he got in some good shots on Kell, as well.” She coughed, then carefully
said, “Actually, there’s something else you should know. They didn’t find the
Marker in Norway.”

He cursed a string of coarse, ugly words under his
breath, his strong profile carved with grim lines of worry and frustration.
“Was there a note?”

“Yeah. Same as before.”

Another blast of stifled, graveled curses filled the
interior of the sleek sports car, not that Morgan blamed him. The situation was
dire, to say the least. In the past few weeks, members of Kierland’s Watchmen
unit had gone out to retrieve three Markers…and had only come back with one.
After Noah and Kellan had found one of the ancient crosses in Finland, Saige
Buchanan had quickly named Spain as the next location, and Noah had gone with
Michael Quinn, another Watchman and Saige’s fiancé, to retrieve it. But when
they’d found the cross’s hiding place, a note had been left waiting for them,
claiming that the Casus had already discovered the Marker and taken it for
themselves. Then they’d been attacked, and Quinn, a raptor-shifter, had
suffered a serious injury to one of his wings.

“Why wasn’t I called when Noah arrived solo at Harrow
House?” Kierland demanded. “Quinn knows better than to keep this kind of crap
from me.”

“Because we knew exactly what you would do when you
heard about Kellan, and he doesn’t want you running off on your own. It’s bad
enough that you’re staying here in Prague without anyone to back you up. The
last thing he wants is you and Kellan running around unprotected.”

More of that grim silence seethed around them, like a
physical presence inside the car, until he said, “What is Kellan even thinking?
If Westmore and the Casus can read the maps, which is looking damn likely at
this point, considering they’ve taken two Markers right out from under us, then
what will they need him for? It’s not like they’re going to exchange him for
the code. They’re more likely just to kill him on the spot than to take him
into custody and back to their compound, wherever the hell it is.”

“Kell believes they’ll use him to demand the other
Markers from us. The ones that your unit has already found.”

“Shit,” he muttered. From the way he thumped the
steering wheel with the flat of his palm, Morgan figured he obviously agreed.

“I’m pretty much of the same opinion, but Kellan is
set on doing this. As his friend—”

“As his friend,” he snarled, cutting her off, “you
should want what’s best for him.”

“And what if what’s best for him turns out to be this
woman?”

He made one of those thick, sarcastic sounds that only
a guy could pull off. “Spare me the romantic drivel, Morgan. It’s hardly your
style.”

“Don’t go there, Kier,” she warned in a low voice,
narrowing her eyes. “Because you have no idea what my style is.”

This time, the sound surging up from his throat was
sharp and explosive, and as he shoved the dark, wind-swept fall of his hair
back from his brow, she could see that a tic had started in his temple. “Chloe
Harcourt is not going to be anything but another notch in my brother’s belt.” He
ground out the words, forcing them through his clenched teeth. “And that’s if
he manages to get in the compound and back out again without getting his ass
killed.”

Another wave of silence settled between them, and
Morgan almost wished for more of the arguing, since it was in those charged
moments of waiting that his presence began to overwhelm her. It was painful,
being trapped inside the confines of the Spider with him. One of those
devastating little pains that you couldn’t reach with a careful, soothing
touch. A physical ache inside her blood and her bones that made her want to
throw open the door and run out into the cold, chilling freedom of the night,
just so she could escape it. He was too much—everywhere—the warm, mouthwatering
scent of him covering her skin…filling her head…sinking into her pores. He
smelled like something that Morgan wanted to take inside her mouth and sink her
teeth into, the dizzying effect of his scent making it difficult for her to sit
still, and she bit her lip, doing everything she could to hold in an
embarrassing moan.

God, she’d rather die than let the Lycan know she was
affected by his presence, the idea sending a cold, sickening shiver down her
spine. It reminded her of how she felt when she was having an attack, and she
frowned, unable to believe that she’d almost broken down while fighting the
guards. The only godsend to her panic disorder was that she’d never actually
freaked out during a battle. It was only afterward, if she’d been forced to
fight in an enclosed space, that the thick, suffocating blanket of leaden
anxiety would sometimes overcome her, squashing her down like a bug.

Strange, that she’d panicked tonight in the middle of
the fight. And stranger still that she hadn’t suffered any of that choking fear
during the fight against the jackals. But then, she hadn’t been in that second
battle alone. She’d had an enraged wolf fighting to keep the jackals away from
her, leaving her room to breathe…and work. It had been a truly impressive
sight, watching Kierland slice his way through the jackal-shifters. He hadn’t
even fully shifted to “were” form, and yet, he’d still cut a path through their
ranks like a tank plowing through a field of bodies.

Sliding a look toward him in the darkened interior of
the car, she watched the pulse of another tic begin in his strong jaw, and knew
she had to make him understand for Kellan’s sake. “Your brother isn’t a child,
Kierland. You may not like his decision, but he knows what he’s doing.”

“Like hell he does.”

After the death of their parents, she knew they’d been
sent to England to live at Harrow House with their grandfather. From what
Kellan had told her, it was Kierland who had taken over the care of his younger
brother, giving him the love and affection that he needed. “You’ve been taking
care of him for a long time, but he’s a man now, Kier.”