Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (7 page)

No matter what kind of spin you tried to put on it,
Kierland knew the facts. He’d made mistakes because of this woman. Unforgivable
mistakes that had resulted in tragedy, that had cost lives and he was still
dealing with the consequences ten years later. If he wasn’t careful, he could
too easily see himself heading down that same path again, and he knew damn well
where it would lead. Someplace he wasn’t willing to go. Not now…not ever.

It should have helped that he now knew her for what
she was. That the truth had finally shattered the illusions he’d built up
around her into a million fractured pieces, but lust wasn’t always a logical
thing. It didn’t reason or listen to advice. It just wanted, hungered…craved.

But that didn’t mean that he had to give in to it.

Rap…rap…rap.

The soft knocking pulled him out of the dark, tangled
web of his thoughts, and he rolled up into a sitting position. Clearing his
throat, he called out, “It’s unlocked.”

The door opened, and then she was walking into the
room, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against it with her hands behind
her, freshly scrubbed and wearing a light gray T-shirt with a picture of some
modern rock band on the front and loose black sweatpants. She’d showered, but
not even the lingering perfume of her shampoo and soap could disguise the
sensual scent of her body. It had always reminded Kierland of a rain-drenched
jungle in the spring, deliciously warm and provocative.

Taking a deep breath, he finally said, “If you’re
right about Kellan being somewhere in northern Norway, we could have a
problem.”

Her soft gray gaze stopped its casual perusal of the
luxurious room decorated in dark wood and pale creams, and settled on his face.
“We do have a problem.”

He flicked her a shuttered look from beneath his
lashes. “So then you think he’s in the Wasteland.”

The graveled words were delivered as a statement,
rather than a question, though Kierland wished to God that she was wrong. The
Deschanel Wasteland was where exiled “nests” or family units of vampires were
forced to live, once the Consortium passed judgment against them. Most vampires
resided in “nesting grounds,” which were located throughout Scandinavia and
Eastern Europe. The grounds were ancient, sprawling castlelike communities
where extended families lived for security, the lands protected by spells that
kept them hidden from the outside world. But the exiled Deschanel families were
forced into the Wasteland—a cold, desolate, dangerous region that had been
created by powerful magic—where it was every man, or vampire, for himself.

“I can’t be sure of the exact location until we’re
closer,” Morgan told him. “But that was our best guess the last time we talked.
It’s also why Kell was so determined that I link with him, since tracking him
by scent would be virtually impossible in that region.”

She sent a look toward the cell phone lying on the bed
beside him, and shook her head. “You tried to call him, didn’t you?”

Kierland let out a short, explosive breath. “I’m his
brother and he’s in trouble. Of course I tried to call him.”

Cocking her head a little to the side, she continued,
“I doubt he would have taken your call, since he knows you would just try to
talk him out of what he’s doing. But if he’s headed where we’re assuming, then
his phone is probably already dead. Technology doesn’t work in the Wasteland.
The spells used to keep the exiled nests inside its borders have a strange
effect on most forms of modern technology, rendering them useless.”

“I know that, damn it.” He took another deep breath,
which was stupid, since it just filled his head with more of her mouthwatering
scent. “I also know that two shifters can’t just go waltzing through the
Deschanel Wasteland,” he muttered. “If we wander outside of the neutral zones,
which will be damn easy to do, we’ll be ambushed within an hour.”

“Actually, I’ve already put in a call to Ashe. As a
Förmyndare, he’s well acquainted with the region. He’d be the best guide we
could find. I’m just waiting to hear back from him.”

Kierland was so stunned that a gruff bark of laughter
rumbled up from his chest. He stared at the delicate, fine-grained beauty of
her face, into the almost silver depths of her eyes, and hoped like hell that
she wasn’t serious. “Is that some kind of joke?”

Quietly, she said, “I know it’s not a solution you
would have chosen, Kier, but Ashe is our best option.”

From a purely unemotional standpoint, he could see the
logic in what she was saying. Förmyndares were otherwise known as Deschanel
Protectors, and it was often their duty to track down rogue vampires who tried
to find refuge in the Wasteland. As such, Ashe would have firsthand knowledge
of the dangerous no-man’s-land they were going to cross, just as she’d said.

Unfortunately, emotion was very much a part of the
situation.

“Like hell,” he muttered, the raw force of his tone
making her eyes go wide.

Ashe Granger was the reason so much animosity
continued to brew between him and this woman. Kierland hated that she trusted
the arrogant vampire who had worked with them from time to time during her
training at the academy. Always had. Always would. It wasn’t just that the girl
Kierland had wanted had run off and fallen in love with the vamp, though he was
honest enough with himself to admit that the sharp, explosive burn of jealousy
had always been a key factor. But he and Ashe had never been on friendly terms even
before Morgan had come between them, both of them too used to being in control
and doing things their own way.

Granger had been living near the academy when Kierland
had been an instructor there, and had reluctantly agreed to help train the
students to best defend themselves against rogue Deschanel. Then Ashe’s
reluctance had fled when he’d met Morgan, and the true hatred between the two
men had begun as the vampire made his interest in Morgan clear. Kierland could
still remember how badly he’d wanted to dismember the vamp the first time he’d
realized that Ashe was pursuing her. The destructive burn of jealousy had been
so strong, it’d pushed him to make the first of what had proven to be an
unforgivable series of mistakes that had simply fueled his hatred for Granger
over the years, the passage of time doing nothing to lessen the way he felt.

And he’d have been lying if he said there wasn’t a
healthy dose of loathing directed at his own ass for the part he’d played, as
well.

“What’s wrong with Ashe?” she asked, the notch between
her brows attesting to the fact that she truly understood nothing about men. “I
mean, I know you two can’t stand each other, but this isn’t a social outing,
Kierland. I would think you’d be willing to stomach having him along, if it
means being able to give Kellan help if he needs it. And it’s not like we’re
going to have a lot of other options here.”

“You still sleeping with him?” he rasped, taken by
surprise by his own question. He hadn’t meant to ask her that, damn it, but it
was too late now to take back the graveled words.

Morgan blinked at him, and he watched as surprise
spread like a slow, thick syrup through her gaze. “Honestly, Kierland. I can’t
see how my current relationship with Ashe Granger would be any concern of
yours.”

He narrowed his eyes, moving to his feet as he paced
to the far side of the room, where a well-stocked bar had been situated against
the wall. He was pissed at himself for asking the stupid question, and even
more pissed at her for not answering it. Without looking at her, he reached for
the bottle of single-malt Scotch and said, “For all I know, he’ll be too busy
screwing you to be any help. And I couldn’t promise that I won’t kill the son
of a bitch if I see him.”

Her breath made a short, irritated sound, and he could
feel the force of her gaze burning curiously into his back, his neck prickling
and hot as he twisted the cap from the bottle and poured. “If you’re going to
be childish and refuse to work with Ashe,” she said after a moment, “then I’m
assuming you have a better idea?”

He turned and rolled his shoulder, anticipating her
reaction. “Gideon,” he grunted in a low voice.

Her eyes went wide with comical surprise. “Gideon
Granger? Ashe’s brother?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, tossing back a much-needed
swallow of Scotch. “He has an apartment here in Prague, so we can pay him a
visit in the morning.”

With a thick note of incredulity in her voice, she
stated, “I know you’ve made some kind of deal with Gideon, but I didn’t realize
you trusted him enough to ask him for help with something like this.”

Kierland understood her reaction, considering how he’d
felt about vampires since one of his girlfriends had been killed by a rogue
nest of the bastards. Nicole was a human who’d lived near the academy when
Morgan was a student there, and Kierland had started dating her in order to
keep himself away from Morgan. After Nicole was brutally attacked by the
rogues, because of her association with Kierland, he’d been unable to stomach
being near any of the Deschanel.

Knowing all this, Kierland’s friends had been amazed
that he’d made the deal with Gideon. But he hadn’t been able to say no when the
Deschanel had approached him the month before. Gideon and Ashe had lost family
during the recent massacres carried out by the Collective. They knew that
Westmore was the one who had given the nesting ground locations to the human
soldiers, and they wanted revenge. In exchange for handing over Westmore, if
Kierland’s unit got their hands on him, Gideon had agreed to find out
everything he could about the Death-Walkers—and he’d already delivered with the
information about the salted holy water.

“I still find it hard to believe,” she whispered. “I
mean, that you actually made that deal with him. You’re not one to trust
easily, especially a stranger who happens to be a vamp.”

“I didn’t have much choice, did I? And Gideon has kept
his word, providing us valuable information.”

“But you really think Gideon will agree to help us
navigate the Wasteland?” she asked, her tone doubtful. “I’ve never met him, but
the impression I have from Ashe is that he’s a man who enjoys his luxuries. I
can’t see him trudging through those cold, dark forests out of the kindness of
his heart.”

“He’s helped before,” Kierland said, taking another
long swallow of his drink. “And the odds are high that Chloe is being kept at
Westmore’s compound. Considering how badly Gideon wants Westmore, I don’t think
it’ll take much to convince him to help us out.”

“If you’re feeling so magnanimous, then I feel
compelled to point out that Ashe has helped, as well. If it weren’t for him, we
might have never been able to destroy the vampires who killed Nicole. You know
that as well as I do.” Her fondness for the arrogant Deschanel was obvious,
making Kierland’s stomach turn. For years, he’d tried to understand what drew
them together. Was it just sex? Or did Morgan honestly like the conceited son
of a bitch? “He’s not the villain you make him out to be,” she added softly.

“I don’t care if he’s a goddamn saint, Morgan. If this
is going to work,” he ground out in a rough, hard-edged voice, his contempt
twisting his expression, “then that bastard’s name is not going to be brought
up again. Is that clear?”

She arched one slender brow, the corner of her mouth
twitching as she shook her head. “Are you truly operating under some kind of
insane misconception that I actually take orders from you? Because I can assure
you that I don’t.”

“You damn well will,” he rasped, slamming his glass
down on the bar.

Still leaning against the door, she crossed her arms
over her chest. “I know Kellan and the others often choose to follow your lead,
because you’ve proven to them that you’re capable of making the hard decisions,
as well as the right choices. I might respect that, Kierland, but until I see
it for myself, I won’t consider you any more capable of leading this project
than I am.”

By the time she was finished with her fiery little
tirade, a reluctant grin had worked its way into the corners of his mouth, his
irritation momentarily receding. “At times like these, it’s hard to believe you
were ever that shy, unsure little eighteen-year-old I used to know.”

“I haven’t been that girl for a long time.” Her head
tilted a little to the side as she said, “In fact, I’m surprised you even
remember her.”

“I remember lots of things,” he murmured in a slow
drawl, his grin melting into a lopsided smile as her cheeks turned a wild rose
color. He knew she was thinking about the way she’d used to blush crimson every
time he’d touch her during combat training, her hunger impossible for her to
hide in her inexperience. “Such as the fact that you weren’t nearly so good at
controlling your shields back then as you are now. Your pheromones were
especially easy to scent.”

“Trust me when I say that you don’t want to go there.”
The quiet words had an underlying thread of steel that he couldn’t help but
admire, even if their trembling edges touched a place inside him that he didn’t
want to think about. And just like that, the moment of easiness was gone,
replaced by the familiar swell of discontent and aggression.

Holding that pure gray gaze, he started to walk across
the room, closing the distance between them. “And what about us, Morgan? What
about our little problem?”