“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 sa
me 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.”
“A man who acts like a damn child. There are a million things that could go wrong. Chloe could already be dead for all we know.”
Morgan knew it was a testament to his fury that he could utter those words without wincing. “According to her sister’s ghost, she’s still alive.”
“Was still alive. God only knows if she still is. You know damn well that Monica is no longer communicating with Molly. And what was the point of sending you here in person, anyway? It isn’t going to stop me from going after him, and Quinn knows that.”
Quietly, she said, “You’re not thinking it through, Kierland.”
“I’m thinking just fine,” he argued in a raw voice. “Where did you leave your bags?”
“At your hotel.”
“Call the front desk and tell them to have your things brought to the airport. Your ass is going back home to Nevada. I’m going after Kellan alone.”
She started to respond, but he cut her off, saying, “It’s for your own good, Morgan. This is only going to get uglier from here on out. I don’t want someone who’s not part of the group put in danger.”
“No, you just like to call me in to act like the professional piece of meat.”
He slid her a quick look before focusing that glowing green stare back on the road. “You still pissed about Ian’s awakening?”
Ian Buchanan was not only a friend of theirs, but he’d also been the first to have his dormant Merrick blood awakened by the return of a Casus named Malcolm DeKreznick. Worried that he might accidentally take the life of the woman he loved, Ian refused to give his awakening Merrick a proper feeding, which could only be done by taking blood during sex. Kierland had asked Morgan to come to Colorado and offer the use of both her body and her blood to the stubborn Buchanan, so that he could finally face the Casus who had been preying on innocent human victims, and she’d agreed.
Morgan could only thank God that Ian had refused to touch another woman, knowing he would lose Molly forever if he did, since Morgan had had no desire to go through with it. Ian Buchanan was a gorgeous alpha male, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who did one-night stands, much less the kind who jumped into bed with a man she didn’t even know.
Though that was obviously what Kierland thought of her.
She knew that of all the female Watchmen in his acquaintance, he’d specifically asked her because he believed she was the type of female who could easily give herself to a stranger. And the soldier in her had seen the rightness of the plan. Had known that giving the Merrick what he needed to defeat the Casus was the “right” thing to do. But deep down, Morgan strongly suspected that the woman in her would never have been able to see it through.
Wrapping her arms around her middle, she turned her face to stare out the passenger-side window. “To be pissed about anything that you do, I would have to actually care, Kierland. And I know better.”
“If you knew anything,” he muttered, “you never would have come here.”
“And you’re wrong about my not being part of the group,” she said, still not looking at him. “I might as well tell you now, I’ve transferred to your unit for the time being.”
Stunned silence, and then a low, hoarse rasp. “You can’t do that.”
“It’s already been done,” she murmured, rubbing her arms. “Quinn put in the request for me, and the Consortium approved it yesterday.”
“Quinn is going to get his ass kicked,” he growled, dropping the Spider into a lower gear.
She snuffled a soft, bitter laugh under her breath. “Yeah, he said you would say that.”
He didn’t say anything for a heart-pounding span of seconds as they sped through the foggy streets of Prague, the old-world architecture of the city lending a ghostly edge to the night. And then the eruption came, blasting against her like a hot, dry wind. “Fine. Don’t go back to Reno. I don’t care one way or another. But you’re going back to England, Morgan. We are not going after Kellan together.”
Blowing out a tense breath, she said, “Actually, you can’t go without me, Kierland.”
“Wanna bet?” he grunted, the low, guttural words sounding more animal than man.
Morgan turned to look at him. “Name the stakes. Because I’m not going to lose.”
He turned his head toward her as he stopped at a red light, eyeing her with such a violent dose of rage, she almost flinched. Holding her ground, she said, “You might never find him without me.”
“What are you saying?”
He glared, not comprehending. “Bread crumbs?”
“Before Kell left for Norway, he came to see me. Said to tell you that if things worked out the way he wanted, I was his trail of bread crumbs. Because he doesn’t think you’ll be able to find him otherwise.”
Morgan knew the instant he realized what she was saying. The instant all the dots clicked together in his head to form a complete, coherent picture. A shudder moved through his long body, and she braced herself for the storm she had no doubt was about to hit. “He fucking didn’t.”
“Actually, he did.”
The sudden blaring of the horn from the car behind them made her jump, and he hit the gas, accelerating through the intersection at a dangerous speed. “You linked with him?” he asked in a hard, gritty voice.
Thanks to her eclectic bloodline, Morgan had been gifted with the unusual, but not unheard of gift for some breeds of blood-tracking, which enabled her to “track” the location of a person once she’d taken their blood.
She nodded in response to Kierland’s question, watching him warily from the corner of her eye as she said, “That’s why you can’t leave me behind.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE LOOK KIERLAND CUT IN Morgan’s direction was one of pure, savage fury. “Are you telling me that you took his blood into your body?”
With a frown, she explained, “Stop making it sound dirty, because I didn’t sleep with him. Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve never slept with him. I took his wrist, and Quinn was in the room with us the entire time.”
His mouth twisted with an expression that was too mean to be a smile. “And I’ll bet Kell just hated it, huh?”
True, blood-taking tended to arouse the one being bitten, but that hadn’t been the case with Kell. The idea made Morgan cringe. God, she thought of the Lycan as a brother, for crying out loud. But she didn’t waste her breath trying to explain it, when she knew Kierland wouldn’t believe her anyway. Instead, she simply said, “He did it for you.”
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