Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 (34 page)

With a gun in his right hand, Kierland lifted his left
and rubbed at the ache burning in the center of his chest, while his gut felt
like he’d swallowed a block of ice. It was impossible to describe the pain he’d
felt when Morgan had told him she’d loved him all those years ago. But it
didn’t matter. He couldn’t let it matter. Because the truth was that she’d
gotten over him and fallen in love with another man. One who probably still
loved her. And that was a risk he couldn’t take—the fact that even if Morgan
chose to be with him now, she might eventually change her mind and go running
back to the vamp. Not with his father’s blood flowing through his veins. No,
he’d rather live with the pain ripping him to shreds for the rest of his
miserable existence, than ever risk hurting her.

The winds were blowing colder, but he was thankful for
the light snowfall that would make it nearly impossible for the Kraven to scent
his presence. He’d been hiking through the woods for about twenty minutes,
heading east, and although the weather was making it difficult for him to scent
his brother, Kierland knew he was getting close. He could feel it, his senses
telling him that it wouldn’t be long now. He tried to clear his mind as he made
his way deeper into the towering, shadowed forest, focusing on the
mission…burying all the emotional crap that was scraping him raw—and then he
caught the glow of a campfire flickering in the distance, and he knew that he’d
found them. His heart began to beat in a hard, thundering rhythm, and he waited
for the flood of relief he’d expected to feel at this moment. But it didn’t
come. Instead, he kept hearing Morgan’s husky words as she’d begged him to
listen to her.

You have to have faith, Kier, because Kellan’s not
going to fail. This is too important to him.

Damn it, he needed to get the bloody woman out of his
mind. Now. Before he completely lost it.

He moved closer, stealthily silent, expecting to find
sentries guarding the perimeter of the camp, but there weren’t any. The
Carringtons who had survived the fight the night before obviously hadn’t warned
Westmore and his allies about their presence, but then he supposed one couldn’t
really expect loyalty out of a nest of marked, poisoned psychopaths, no matter
how much money had exchanged hands.

Hell, considering they were in the Wasteland, the deal
might not have even been negotiated on monetary terms. For all they knew,
Westmore might have offered the bloodthirsty vamps that “fresh meat” they were
so keen on, and his stomach curled at the thought.

As he drew nearer, Kierland could see that a fire had
been started in the center of a small clearing, and the Kraven were huddled
around the flames for warmth, their voices rumbling in conversation. They were
gossiping about two women that Westmore had in custody at his compound,
referring to one of them as “the witch.” She had to be Chloe Harcourt. When the
men made a lewd comment about the one they called “the psychic,” Spark, who sat
removed from the group, looked up with an expression of disgust. “Pigs,” she
muttered, then turned back to her reading, her brow furrowed with concentration
as she leafed through a small leather notebook.

And at the far edge of the clearing, about fifteen
feet away from Spark, sat Kellan.

Kierland’s heart clenched as he caught sight of the
thick metal shackle around his brother’s left ankle, the cuff attached to a
heavy chain that was locked around the trunk of a nearby tree. They’d chained
his brother to a tree, like a damn dog, and he choked back the feral rise of
fury, wanting to launch an immediate attack against Spark and the Kraven,
tearing their throats out with the wolf’s deadly jaws.

Pulling in a deep breath through his nose, Kierland
forced himself to stay calm as he assessed the situation. His brother looked
exhausted, with bruise-colored circles beneath his eyes and grim brackets
framing his mouth, his auburn hair now long enough to blow against the sides of
his face. There was a feral edge to the look in his eyes, as well as the way he
held his heavily muscled body, and Kierland knew that Kellan had been traveling
in full “wolf” form. Taking the complete form of his inner wolf would have
enabled Kellan to travel faster…and safer, than in his human or “were” forms,
but there were consequences. Their kind didn’t often take the complete shape of
their beasts, but when they did, they gave more of themselves over to the
animal…and could be dangerous as hell because of it. Their tempers were
shorter, and their aggressive tendencies became more pronounced. Which meant
Kellan would have to walk a very careful line when he finally found Chloe
Harcourt, or he would end up scaring the hell out of her.

Whoa. What’s that? What do you mean “when” he finds
her? Aren’t you here to stop him?

Cursing under his breath, Kierland scrubbed a hand
down his face, and wondered if he was losing his mind. Not only was he having
conversations with himself, but he was forgetting his entire friggin’ purpose
for being there. Which was to save his brother’s ass, whether he wanted to be
saved or not.

Do you really think this is what he would want? You
coming to his rescue? He has a plan, Kier. He’s a grown man and a helluva
soldier. Let Kell do what he thinks is right.

He scowled at the whisper of Morgan’s soft voice
slipping through his mind, and moved until he was positioned directly across
the clearing from Kellan. Kierland kept to the shadows, crouched behind a
massive toppled tree trunk with a SIG Sauer in one hand, just watching,
confident of the fact that Kell would sense his presence. He knew the bullets
wouldn’t kill the Kraven, since they could only be taken out with a wooden
stake driven through the center of the heart, but the bullets would slow them
down enough that he could get Kell out of there. A few moments later, his
brother took a deep breath, and raised his head, scanning the shadowed edges of
the clearing, his night vision far better than that of a human. Within seconds,
his brilliant blue-green gaze locked with Kierland’s, and he sent him a dark,
uneasy look of warning.

Using a swift series of hand signals they’d devised
when they were younger, while playing war on the sprawling grounds of their
grandfather’s estate, Kierland asked him if he was okay.

Kellan slid a surreptitious glance toward the Kraven
and Spark, making sure no one was watching him, then braced his elbows on his
bent knees, so that his hands were hanging loosely between his legs. Keeping
his gaze on the others, he signed Compound north. Thirty miles. She’s called
for backup. They’re taking me in tonight.

He waited for Kellan to look his way again, then found
himself signing You know what you’re doing? when he’d meant to warn him to get
down, so that he could open fire on Spark and the Kraven. What the hell was he
doing?

With his heartbeat roaring in his ears and Morgan’s
husky words still spiraling through his head, he watched as Kellan responded
with a sharp nod, his eyes bright with determination.

Okay, he signed. I hate it, but won’t interfere. We’ll
monitor the compound. Then set up a rendezvous two miles south. If you’re not
out by next Friday, we’ll attack. Just…get out of there as soon as you can. I
don’t want to lose you.

Kellan grinned at him, the boyish, lopsided tilt of
his mouth making Kierland want to throw back his head and howl. God, it hurt so
much to let him go. But Morgan was right. This wasn’t his situation to control.
Kellan wasn’t a child who needed him to make his choices for him any more.

Slipping away with a silent goodbye, Kierland felt
strangely lost as he turned and headed back the way he’d come, like a compass
that had suddenly lost its sense of direction. Something was happening to him,
everything spinning out of control, his mind caught in a loop that kept leading
back to one single, shining point of importance.

Morgan.

Christ, she’d been right. He was the one destroying
everything, with his insane control issues and the stupid, blind fear that he
couldn’t get past. He was the one who’d shoved everything into shit. He’d have
ditched it, the whole manic, screwed-up mess, if he could. But he didn’t know
how. He was trapped inside a prison of his own bloody making, and he was going
to lose her because of it.

Lose her? Hell, she was already lost. Gone. Driven
away by his miserable, prick-of-the-year attitude.

Unless I go after her. Get down on my knees and beg
her for another chance.

The urgent, fervent words echoed through his mind, but
he didn’t know what to do with them. Yes, he knew that he loved her. That he
wanted her. That he would’ve killed to have her. But where did that leave them?
For one, he was still scared shitless of what that love might do to him. Of how
it might get twisted and mangled by jealousy, until he’d become as big a
monster as his father had been. And then there was the fact that she hadn’t
told him she was still in love with him now. Only that she had been. Before
she’d run to Granger and fallen in love with the vamp.

So what in God’s name was he meant to do? He couldn’t
just let her walk away…and yet, he didn’t know how to trust himself to be a
part of her life, to be the kind of man that she deserved.

I need to talk to her. Tell her how I feel. Lay it all
out on the line, and let her help me. Give her the chance to tell me what she
wants, and help me figure it out. Together. Without freaking out on her.

It was terrifying as hell, the idea of opening up to her
and confessing everything that was inside him, but at this point, what did he
have to lose? He already knew what his life was going to be like without her.
Cold and pointless, until his bitterness had turned him into someone he no
longer even recognized. He had to at least try, damn it. Who cared if he made
an idiot of himself? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except for finding her
and throwing himself at her feet.

Driven by adrenaline and desperation, Kierland started
running, his legs pumping, picking up speed until he was racing through the
moonlit forest, determined to reach her before she…

Huh. How strange. Just like before with Kellan, his
brain derailed on him again, because his intended finish to that thought had
been…before she left with Granger and I have to chase her down, when all I want
is to talk this out, so that I can make sense of what is happening.

But it was a different track he found his mind
traveling now. One that had him running harder, faster, his muscles burning as
he pushed his body to its limits, a horrible sense of panic wrenching through
him. He didn’t know why, but he had the strangest sensation that something had
happened. Something bad. It was impossible to ignore the cold suck of fear in
his chest, in his gut, his entire being swamped with terror.

Too late, he thought. I shouldn’t have left her. I’m
too late.

Running as if the hounds from hell were on his ass,
Kierland had already covered over half the distance back to the cabin, when he
heard someone coming toward him in the opposite direction at an almost
identical speed. He could tell by the scent that it was Granger, the vamp doing
nothing to mask his presence, and they both came to an abrupt, jarring stop the
moment they caught sight of each other.

Granger’s grim, shocked expression confirmed his fears
that something had happened to Morgan. He could smell blood on the
bastard—Morgan’s blood—and something inside him cracked with a sharp, piercing
pain that nearly staggered him.

“What the hell’s going on?” he snarled, his beast
punching against the confines of his body, as furious and as worried as the
man. “I smell blood. Where’s Morgan?”

“You’ve got to hurry,” the Deschanel panted, his hands
braced on his knees as he leaned forward, struggling to catch his breath. “I
got her back to the cabin, but she’s in trouble. Bleeding. We don’t have any
time to lose.”

A red haze filled the Lycan’s vision, and he fought to
keep it together…to keep himself from sinking into the visceral, destructive
burn of rage and despair. “What happened to her?” he growled. “Was it
vampires?”

Granger shook his head. “Death-Walkers. The fool woman
masked her scent and snuck out of the cabin to come after you,” he muttered.
“By the time I realized what she’d done and went after her, they’d already
attacked.”

“Oh, Christ.” When the Death-Walkers hadn’t attacked
that first night, Kierland had foolishly assumed that the creatures hadn’t
followed them into the Wasteland. But he’d been wrong. And now Morgan had paid
for his mistake. “How’d you find her if she was masking her scent?”

Granger curled his lip. “I could smell the
Death-Walkers.”

“Where are they now?”

The vampire shook his head as he straightened to his
full height. “You won’t believe it,” he rasped, “but we have Juliana Sabin to
thank for running them off. She’s with Morgan now.”

“Juliana?” he croaked. “What the hell is she doing
here?”

“Micah managed to survive the blast last night and
made it back to his compound. In one of his more lucid moments, he told Juliana
what he’d done. She got her guards and started heading this way, to make sure
we were okay. It was just blind luck that they found us when they did and were
able to chase off those ugly bastards.”

Knowing there was no time to waste, Kierland started
running, only dimly aware of Granger keeping pace behind him, his entire focus
centered on Morgan. He was sick with fear, his body cold, his thoughts tangled
and twisted as he tried to wrap his mind around what had happened. They made it
back to the cabin within a handful of minutes. He immediately rushed inside,
not even sparing a glance at Juliana’s guards, who were setting up a camp in
front of the small structure. The scent of Morgan’s blood was overwhelming, and
Kierland broke out in a cold sweat as he moved in a numb haze toward the bed
tucked into the far corner of the room. Morgan lay stretched out on top of a
dark quilt, her eyes closed, her face and clothes spattered with blood. Juliana
Sabin was sitting in a chair beside the bed, using a cloth to clean the blood
from Morgan’s torn cheek. But the vampire rose to her feet as he and Granger
made their way across the room, murmuring that she would be waiting outside if
they needed her.