“Maybe I’m just wondering if you’ll be sleeping with him on this trip, in return for his help, like you’ve done before.” They were rough, huskily spoken words, barely audible beneath the din of music and voices, but Kierland knew from the tight set of her jaw that she’d heard him.
Though Morgan turned her body toward him on the stool, she didn’t make eye contact. Her head was lowered, her gaze on the slender bottle in her hand as she said, “This is an issue for you, isn’t it?”
Setting his beer on the bar, Kierland ran his tongue over his teeth, wishing he’d just kept his effing mouth shut. “What is?” he asked, knowing damn well what she meant.
She lifted her head, locking her curious gaze with his. “Jealousy.”
The soft word made him cringe, and Kierland ground his jaw, figuring it safer not to say anything at all. Her head tilted a bit to the side, her eyes bright as she studied his expression, and whatever she saw there brought one of those strange, womanly smiles to her mouth that always left a man scratching his head, wondering just what in God’s name she was thinking. “I won’t be sleeping with Ashe,” she finally told him. “In case it escaped your notice, Kier, I happen to be sleeping with you.”
“And that means something?”
MORGAN FORCED DOWN AN instinctive burst of irritation, determined to keep her cool. On the one hand, the words coming out of the gorgeous Lycan’s mouth belonged to a jackass. But on the other, there was something in his eyes that made her think Kierland was hiding something behind his jerk-of-the-year attitude. She just didn’t know what he was hiding, and her brain was still too fried from the mind-blowing orgasms he’d given her to figure it out.
Setting her beer bottle on the bar beside his, she raised her brows and said, “One man is more than enough for me to handle, Kier. And before you start making ugly accusations, let’s just remember that I wasn’t the one with the psycho Barbie twins on Saturday night.”
His eyes went narrow, while frustration hardened his masculine features. “I already told you that I didn’t touch either one of those women,” he rasped.
“Only because I pulled you away,” she pointed out, shrugging her shoulders.
“And did I mention that I didn’t even want to touch them?” he shot back in such a low voice, she almost didn’t catch the words. Heat rose up in her body, prickling in her earlobes and behind her knees, her pulse suddenly rushing in her ears like an ocean surf. “They were just substitutes,” he muttered, raking his auburn hair off his forehead as he looked out over the club.
Morgan wet her lips, unable to take her gaze off his rugged profile. “Substitutes for what?” she asked, her body still experiencing a series of delicious little aches and twinges from having been so thoroughly used.
A low, gritty laugh fell from his beautiful mouth, and he said, “Like you mentioned before, we’ve probably gotten enough out in the open already tonight.” He ran a hand over the rough edge of his jaw, the rolled up sleeves of his white shirt revealing the long lines of muscle and sinew in his powerful forearms, and then slanted her a shuttered look. “Let’s find Granger and get out of here.”
With a nod, Morgan slipped off the stool. “I think he’s in one of those rooms over there,” she told him, pointing toward a far wall with several wooden doors leading to private rooms. They began making their way toward the closed doors along the edges of the crowd, and she noticed that Kierland kept his tall body positioned so that no one could get too close or bump into her. The protective gesture was so unlike him—at least where she was concerned—that it deepened the dreamlike sense of fantasy she’d been drifting in since that afternoon. Sooner or later, Morgan knew she was going to get a cold, hard slap of reality in the face, but for the moment she was still riding the high…and secretly enjoying the hell out of it.
“What now?” he asked, when they were standing outside the three mahogany doors, the rich brown contrasting sharply to the club’s pale sage-colored walls.
Pushing her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, she did her best to ignore the couple making out at a table to their right, and said, “I guess we wait. I’m not exactly sure which room he’s in, and since I have no idea what’s going on in any of them, I’m not about to start knocking on doors.”
He gave one of those gritty, wickedly sexy laughs in response, then propped his shoulder against the nearby wall. Morgan stood beside him, her attention focused on those three doors, trying to determine which one Ashe was behind, until she felt the blistering heat of a stare against the side of her face. Shifting her gaze toward Kierland, she found his eyes focused on her, instead of the doors. Her breath stuck in her throat, a thick, liquid heat spilling through her body as she spied the molten gleam that told her exactly what he was thinking about.
“Stop it,” she whispered, her pulse racing as she remembered what it’d felt like when he’d pushed his cock inside her, stretching her, burying himself hard and deep. He’d been everywhere, touching every part of her, the pleasure burn still buzzing beneath the surface of her skin like a powerful current.
“Stop what?” His mouth kicked up in one of those lazy, crooked grins that made him look like a devil—a gorgeous devil sent to earth to make all the good girls sin—and Morgan could literally feel her brain cells being melted down by lust.
“Stop looking at me like you want to eat me alive,” she said unsteadily, pulling her lower lip through her teeth.
“Can’t help that,” he drawled in a low, husky rumble, the wine-dark strands of his hair falling back over his brow as he flashed her a wide wolf’s smile. “Because it’s exactly what I want to do.”
Embarrassed by the schoolgirl’s blush she could feel burning in her cheeks, she used a dry tone as she stated, “You’ve already gotten off once today. Or…twice, actually.”
And she had a feeling he could have kept going, if they’d had the time.
His right eyebrow lifted in a slow, knowing arch. “What gave you the impression that once was going to be enough with you? Once didn’t come anywhere close to being enough.” A deep breath, and he looked away from her, a guttural edge bleeding into his deep voice as he said, “If anything, what happened in that hotel room today only jacked me up even tighter.”
It would have been impossible to miss the tension in those graveled words, even if Morgan hadn’t been watching him as closely as she was. “And that bothers you, doesn’t it?”
Staring at the doors, he shrugged, saying, “Everything about you bothers me. It always has. But I still intend to screw your brains out the second we’re back at our hotel tonight.”
Morgan’s breath caught on a sharp gasp, but before she could make any kind of response, the center door opened and Ashe Granger came through the doorway, his silver eyes widening with shock when he spotted her standing there with Kierland Scott. Dressed in black cashmere and jeans, the vamp was still as gorgeous as ever, his body long and lean and heavily muscled, his hair a rich, sable brown, the cut more severe than it’d been the last time Morgan had seen him. The short brush cut would have been too much for most men, but when you had a face like Ashe’s, it didn’t matter. In fact, it only accentuated the fact that his tall body and rugged face were…well, obscenely perfect.
It was said among the clans that the complex nature of the Deschanel was a delicate balance between the light and dark aspects of the world, and Ashe was a prime example. He was a thing of outrageous beauty, and yet…he was also a thing of sinister danger. The complex duality of his nature was a helpless allure to most women, and Morgan knew damn well that he never lacked for female companionship. But then, she also knew that none of the women who shared the vampire’s bed ever meant anything to him. Though Ashe made sure his lovers enjoyed their time with him, he seldom even recalled their names once he’d left their beds, and Morgan couldn’t help but feel sorry for her friend. After so many years on his own, she desperately wanted Ashe to find the love and peace and happiness that he deserved.
“Morgan,
” he purred in a low, decadent rumble, his smile a slow melding of sensual delight and hard-edged tension as he quickly snapped the door shut behind him and came toward her. “Stellar timing as always, sweetheart.”
“You could sound a bit happier to see me,” she murmured, her keen senses easily picking up on the predatory aggression she could feel blasting from the Watchman beside her. “I haven’t seen you for almost three months.”
“Happy isn’t good enough to describe how I feel when I see you.” His gaze slid to Kierland, and she could see him trying to figure out just what she was doing there with the Lycan. Ashe knew all about how Kierland had treated her for the past decade, and he wasn’t shy about voicing his opinions on the subject. “I’m just not too keen on your company.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Kierland muttered, pushing away from the wall. His hands flexed at his sides, no doubt imagining how good it would feel to curl his fingers into a huge fist and knock Ashe clear off his feet.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” she said quickly, moving a little to the side as she took a step forward, putting herself between the two primal, dominant males.
The corner of Ashe’s mouth twitched, and he said, “I’m sorry I missed your calls, honey. But I lost my phone a few days ago.”
Morgan grinned, since Ashe’s inability to keep track of his cell phone was an ongoing thing with the sexy vamp. He might have had the IQ of a genius, but the guy was notorious for setting his phone down in public places and then forgetting to take it with him when he left.
Jerking his chin toward her, the Deschanel said, “I imagine you’ve got something pretty important to say, seeing as how you’ve tracked me down, so let’s get somewhere we can talk.”
Surprised by the urgency she could sense in his husky words, Morgan started to ask him what was wrong, when the door behind him opened and four fair-haired Deschanel vampires came through, their pale eyes narrowing with fury when they spotted her and Kierland.
“What the hell is this?” the tallest of the group snarled, his gray eyes sliding over her face, before landing with a wrathful look of accusation on Ashe, who had turned to face the group.
Morgan didn’t have a clue what was going on, but whatever it was, she had no doubt that it was going to be bad. Sensing serious danger, she was thankful that Kierland had moved closer to her side as she whispered, “Ashe?”
Under his breath, Ashe said, “Not now, Morgan.”
“You working with these Watchmen?” the vamp on the far left growled.
“It’s not what you think,” Ashe told them, holding his hands up in one of those universal signals of Let’s just calm down and take it easy. “I just ran into an old friend.”
Dread turned cold in Morgan’s veins, and she reached out, curling her fingers around Ashe’s powerful arm. “What exactly were you doing in that room?”
“Shh,” he whispered, shaking free of her touch as he stepped toward the blond vampires.
“I knew we couldn’t trust him,” snarled the tallest one again, looking around at his comrades. “Förmyndares are all the same. He wasn’t interested in making a deal. He was just trying to set us up.”
“Deacon’s right,” one of the others grunted, his face turning splotchy with rage.
“Morgan, get out of here,” both Kierland and Ashe commanded at the same time, their deep voices shredding her pride. Obviously, neither of them thought she was strong enough to fight, expecting her to just turn tail and run. She wanted to tell them both off and stand her ground, but she could already feel the icy tendrils of panic clutching onto her throat at the thought of facing the vampires, the irrational fear like a set of murderous hands squeezing off her air supply.
Morgan turned on her heel, her vision swimming, knowing only that she needed to flee, to escape—but there was nowhere to go. Another half dozen golden-haired vampires were now blocking them from the rest of the club, their pale gazes focused directly on her.
Oh, hell, she thought, stumbling back a step, her heart all but pounding its way through her chest. As the sounds of battle broke out behind her, the wall of vampires moved closer, their eyes burning with hunger and rage. A screaming darkness crashed through Morgan’s mind, her lungs burning, aching, desperate for air….
And then her world turned black.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTER MORGAN’S BLOODCURDLING scream caught their attention, Kierland and Granger finished off the four foulmouthed vampires who’d started the fight. Then they went after the second group who were taunting a clearly hysterical Morgan. The club’s human customers had moved back, giving them a wide berth as they battled against the remaining blond vamps, all of whom looked to be related to the four that had followed Ashe out of that private room…and were now knocked unconscious on the floor.
Whatever Granger was mixed up in, Kierland would have been willing to bet his fortune that it wasn’t good or legal or sane.
With the large human presence in the club, no one released their claws, talons or fangs, making the fight purely a contest of skill. The vampires were ruthless, but not as well trained as he and Granger. With a bone-crunching kick to the last vamp’s jaw, the bastard went down…and stayed down. Pushing his hair back from his face, Kierland immediately turned toward Morgan, a low growl rumbling up from the depths of his chest at the sight of Ashe Granger already kneeling beside her. She sat on the floor, blood dripping unchecked from her nose, her eyes still hazy and unfocused with panic as she stared blankly into space. She’d obviously tried to fight the assholes, but hadn’t been able to hold her own against them under the circumstances.
Not that he had any better understanding of what those circumstances were, except that she didn’t do well when crowded in by people…or vampires.
With Ashe on her right, Kierland dropped to his knees on her left. He reached out to place a careful hand on her shoulder, and she flinched, shaking her head, her lashes fluttering. “It’s over,” he told her, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. She turned her head, blinking as she gave him a slight, shaky smile, and he started to reach for her, intending to lift her into his arms, when she turned to look at Ashe. In the next instant, she launched herself at the Deschanel, all but crawling her way up the guy’s body.
“Get your damn hands off her,” Kierland bit out, as Ashe clutched Morgan against his sweater-covered chest and moved to his feet.
The vampire rolled his gray eyes and started to step around him, but Kierland moved into his path, blocking his way, unable to control the rage that clawed through him at the sight of her in Granger’s arms. He had no justification for it. No valid reason for objection, and certainly none that he would own up to, but it didn’t stop him from saying, “If she needs to be held, then I’ll do it.”
Granger appeared torn between irritation and amusement. “It isn’t sexual, you ass. I’m comforting her.”
Baring his fangs, he repeated, “I’ll do it.”
Morgan’s face burrowed deeper into the vampire’s shoulder, her arms locked tight around his neck, and Granger slid Kierland a taunting smirk. “Call me crazy, wolf, but I don’t think she wants you to.”
“And you think you know what she wants?” he demanded in a quiet snarl, wanting to throw it in the arrogant vamp’s face that Morgan had spent the afternoon in bed with him. That just hours ago, he was the man who’d been driving into her, making her scream with pleasure. The only thing that stopped him was the thought of how Morgan would react if he did it, which only pissed him off even more.
He didn’t want to take her feelings into account, damn it. Especially when she was clinging onto the vamp like she wanted to slip under his freaking skin.
“I think I know her wants a hell of a lot better than you do,” Ashe murmured in response to his question. “What were you thinking, taking her into a club full of vampires?”
“What do vamps have to do with anything?” he forced out through his gritted teeth.
“She can’t stand them.” Gra
nger’s head cocked a little to the side, his tone tinged with derision as he guessed, “Or didn’t you know?”
Sweeping his gaze over the way she’d plastered herself against Granger’s chest, Kierland made a thick, sarcastic sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, she really looks like she can’t stand you.”
For a moment the Deschanel simply stared at him, and then a mocking smile slowly curled his mouth, revealing the tip of a fang, and he pulled Morgan closer to his chest. “I’m the rare exception to the rule. She trusts me. Knows I’d rather die than hurt her.” A pause, and then he added, “Which is more than can be said for the other men in her life.”
“I’m not fighting with you now.” Kierland ground out the words, his rage and frustration like a physical thing in his body, punching against his insides, his wolf wanting the vamp’s blood the way an addict wanted his fix. “But as soon as she’s calmed down, I’m kicking your ass.”
“I’ll look forward to you trying,” Ashe drawled, heading toward the front exit as Kierland stepped aside, then followed after them. No one bothered the two tall, grim-looking males as they made their way through the club, the human guests giving them a wide berth. “Where are you staying?” the vampire asked, once they were standing on the sidewalk, the bitter January winds whipping at their clothes and hair.
Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Kierland told him they had rooms at the Whitney. Then he kept pace at Granger’s side as the vampire headed north toward the hotel. “You gonna explain what you were up to back there?”
His voice flat, Granger said, “Work.”
“You’re on assignment?” he growled, knowing that the Förmyndares sometimes worked undercover for the Consortium on special cases, infiltrating Deschanel organizations whose illegal activities threatened the security of the clans.
“It’s not any of your goddamn business, but I’m not working for the Consortium,” Granger replied, his tone thick with scorn. “Not all of us care to sit around and wait for orders to be handed down. If there’s a problem, we deal with it.”
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