Edge of Desire

by Rhyannon Byrd

  She whispered his name, and he flinched, as if she’d struck him. Without a word, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Hope turned off the water and followed him out of the bathroom, watching as he pulled boxers, jeans and a shirt out of his duffel bag. He began to dress, each article of clothing that covered his muscular, breathtakingly beautiful body like a sheet of armor that cut him off from her. A series of locks that she couldn’t break through. That kept him imprisoned in a place she couldn’t reach.

  The pain ripping her open inside was suffocating and dark, like being stabbed. She rolled her lips inward, blinking rapidly, but it was no use. The flood of emotion came pouring out in a deep, violent torrent, and a dry, choked cry jammed up in her throat, her vision blurring as hot tears ran down her face. Walking to her closet, she pulled off the damp tank top and dressed with her back to him, then made her way to the window, staring out at the violence of the coming storm that seemed to be swallowing the horizon like some angry, gaping black maw.

  He quietly said her name, and she forced herself to turn and face him, swiping her fingers beneath her wet eyes, the tears falling in an endless, burning rush that she couldn’t stop…couldn’t control.

  “Please don’t cry,” Riley groaned, the husky words cracking with emotion, the sight of her tears making something inside him clench with pain.

  “I can’t help it,” she sobbed. “I haven’t cried in years. Not since I lost my baby. And now I’m losing you. I can’t…I just—”

  “Christ, Hope. I’m sorry. For everything,” he said in a ragged, gritty burst of words. “I never…I never meant for this to happen. I knew I didn’t have any right to touch you. I just…I couldn’t stay away. But I didn’t mean to hurt you. Not again. You’re the last person in the world I would ever want to hurt.”

  “Riley…I—”

  He shook his head, knowing that whatever she was going to say would destroy him. “You need to get going,” he told her, cutting her off, the gruff edge of his words making her flinch, as if they could physically bruise her. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?” he asked, taking the Beretta from his holster.

  She nodded, and he walked to where she stood, handing her the weapon. “I want you to keep the gun with you, Hope. Whatever you do, keep it close. There’s no telling how this is all going to play out, and I don’t want you taking any chances.”

  She stared down at the gun with a puzzled frown. “Will it do any good against them?”

  “The human host they inhabit can be killed, though not quite as easily when they’re in Casus form. But if you put a bullet in the head or the heart, it should do the trick and send the bastard’s shade back to where it came from.”

  She slipped the gun into the canvas bag she’d slung across her body, and he glanced at the clock on her bedside table, checking the time. “Kellan should already be downstairs waiting for you.”

  She nodded, and he could see the gut-wrenching truth in her eyes. The bright, shimmering, fragile emotion that burned deep inside her. It set her alight. Made her glow. Made him want to grab hold of her, and never let her go.

  Her glistening gaze moved over his face, as if she was memorizing every feature, and then she drew in a shuddering breath and turned away from him, walking toward the door. She opened it, her small hand gripping the handle, and then suddenly said, “Whatever happens, don’t forget your promise.” Then she walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

  Feeling hollow, as if his heart had just been scraped out of his chest, Riley stalked from the room, down the hallway, to the narrow window that looked out over the rainy parking lot. Moments later Hope walked outside with Kellan, and they climbed into his truck. She kept her head down, swiping her fingers under her eyes, and he knew she was still crying. It left a raw feeling in his gut, the painful sensation keeping company with the jagged wound that had been carved inside his chest.

  Holding his breath, he watched as they drove away, unable to move until the taillights finally faded away beneath the falling rain. Then he turned and made his way back to her bedroom, shutting the door. Walking to the bed, he crawled over the snow-white linens and grabbed her pillow, burying his face in the soft, Hope-scented cotton. And as the lashing rain continued to fall against the window, he let it soak in the hot, rushing burn of his tears.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Thursday night

  WAITING FOR THE END of the world. When measured against good ways to spend your time, Riley didn’t rank it particularly high on the list. It came in right around the bottom, along with having your heart torn out and sticking a red-hot poker in your eye. The café had been closed down for a few hours now, and Ian and Shrader were grabbing some food in the kitchen, while he stood with his shoulder braced against the wall, staring through the living room’s bay window. He kept his attention on the stormy woods, doing his best to keep focused on the coming battle. He wondered where Gregory was, and what he was doing. Not to mention all the other psychotic players who would no doubt make an entrance before the night was over. The Collective. Westmore’s men. The other Casus who had attacked Kellan. And where the hell was the one whose escape from Meridian had awakened him? It didn’t make any sense that they were waiting. All of them. Everyone. Something had to be going down, and he didn’t like it. It made Riley’s skin crawl, his insides churn.

  He heard the door push open, and a moment later his brother was standing at his side, offering him an ice-cold longneck. “So she’s the one, isn’t she?” Ian asked, bracing his shoulder against the opposite side of the alcove.

  Taking a long drink of the icy beer, Riley wiped the back of his wrist over his mouth, wincing from the cold in his throat as he said, “The one what?”

  Ian stared down at the beer in his hand, watching the icy vapor dance as he swirled the liquid around inside the bottle. “I’ve always wondered why such an upstanding guy like you never had a steady, when you were such a rock in everything else. Why you didn’t have the whole wife and kids and white-picket-fence thing going on. Now I get it. You’ve been holding out, wanting someone you thought you couldn’t have.”

  Riley shook his head, a dry, sarcastic sound jerking in his chest. “Would you listen to you? You don’t even sound like my brother. What the hell did you do with him?”

  Ian took a drink of his beer and smiled, his dark blue eyes glittering with a wry edge of humor. “Blame it on my soon-to-be Mrs. She’s helped me get in touch with my softer side. It’s like looking at the world through new eyes, and I see things now that I never would have before. Like the fact that you’re head over heels for Hope Summers.”

  Riley looked back through the window, his mouth pulling tight with a crooked, bitter smile. “Even if I am, it doesn’t matter.” His voice was low…gruff.

  “Yeah?” his brother asked. “And why’s that?”

  “I already told you,” he muttered. “No matter what happens, she’s not coming back to Ravenswing.”

  “Seems it would be a simple matter of asking her,” Ian offered in a low rumble, taking another deep swallow of beer.

  Scraping one hand against his bristled jaw, Riley kept his gaze focused on the stormy night, hoping to avoid another argument about what would happen at the end of the evening. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Ian gave a low grunt of frustration. “I know what’s going through your head and it’s madness. I’m telling you, Ri, you’re not going to cross over,” he growled. “It’s just not possible.”

  Before he could argue, Shrader came in from the kitchen, making his way toward them as he drawled, “So if ol’ Riley isn’t interested in Hope enough to keep her around, does that mean she’s free game?”

  One second the cocky ass was walking across the room, and in the next Riley made a quick motion with his right hand, ripping the Oriental runner beneath Shrader’s feet out from under him and the Watchman’s back hit the floor. Hard.

  “Uh, Riley?” his brother murmured, staring at h
im with wide, wondering eyes. “Did you just do that?”

  “Kellan didn’t tell you?” he asked, pushing his hand into his pocket.

  Ian shook his head. “Tell me what?”

  “I, uh, found what I can do,” he said, his tone flat, devoid of emotion. “The Buchanan ‘gift’ thing.”

  “I’ll say you did,” Shrader grunted, moving to his feet. Rolling his head over his thick shoulders, the Watchman muttered, “So what else can you do, Mr. Sunshine?”

  Riley curled his lip. “I can wipe up the floor with your ass if you don’t shut up.”

  Wearing a shit-eating grin, Shrader braced his feet and spread his arms wide. “Wanna give it a shot?”

  “Damn it,” Ian grunted. “Don’t let him rile you. And you,” he barked, pointing a finger at Shrader. “Stop causing trouble.”

  Rolling his shoulder, Riley turned back toward the window and lifted the bottle in his hand, finishing off his beer. He answered a few of Ian’s questions, explaining about his strange, newfound ability to control physical objects, telling him about the lamp and Thermos, as well as the way he’d been able to keep Hope locked inside the house while he’d fought Capshaw.

  “So…I, uh, talked to Saige a little while ago,” Ian murmured, changing the subject as he rested his back against the wall. “She thinks they might be close to finishing the next map.”

  “I don’t see what the rush is,” Riley commented. “We haven’t even found the third Marker yet.”

  “We’ll find it,” Ian said with a hard note of determination. “And then we’ll go after the next one.”

  “Yeah, we’ll be like the Energizer bunnies,” Shrader snorted as he sprawled into a corner of the sofa. “We’ll just keep going and going.”

  Riley started to ask if Saige had any idea where the fourth Marker would be, when the lamp sitting on the end table beside Shrader suddenly went out, casting the room into shadowed darkness.

  “There goes the power,” Ian grunted, turning to peer out the window. “And it looks like we’ve got company on the way.”

  Staring out at the distant woods, Riley searched for whatever had caught Ian’s eye and spotted the flashes of movement through the swaying trees. “I guess we were right about them coming tonight,” he muttered, a strange sense of finality falling over him.

  Opening the back door, Shrader stared through the violent, lashing rain, a slow smile curling his mouth as he said, “This is going to be fun.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re one crazy son of a bitch?” Ian asked with a low rumble of laughter.

  “All the good men are,” Shrader drawled, his smile widening. “That’s what makes us so good.”

  They stepped out onto the porch, and Riley pulled the door shut behind him. “Remember, we’re looking to take down the Casus any way that we can,” he rasped, taking the gun that Shrader had loaned him out of his holster. It was a gleaming 9 mm Glock, and although he wished that Ian had one as well, he knew his brother would refuse. Since the night he’d seen their father hold a gun to their mother’s head during an argument, Ian had never set hands on a gun, choosing instead to fight with the knife he always carried on him, or in the powerful form of his Merrick, which Riley knew he would be using during the coming battle. “At this point it’s better to send them back to the pit and get out of here alive. We’ll worry about sending them to hell next time around.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Shrader replied. “I’ll unload as many rounds into them as I can, then make the shift.”

  He nodded, knowing he was going to have to do the same, allowing the darkness within him to fully break free, transforming his body into Merrick form for the first time. As a tiger shifter, Shrader would most likely allow his claws and fangs to release, while keeping the human shape of his body, instead of slipping fully into the shape of his beast.

  Just before they headed down the porch steps, Riley reached out, grabbing hold of Ian’s hard shoulder. When his brother turned his head to look back at him, he said, “The minute you see that I’ve slipped away, you do it.”

  Ian’s dark eyes narrowed with anger. “I’ll do it only if it has to be done, Ri. And not a second sooner.”

  He started to call out something to Shrader, and Ian cut him off, snarling, “Don’t even bother. Aiden knows I’ll gut him if he even tries it.”

  He tried again, saying, “Damn it, you can’t—” when his brother cut him off for a second time.

  “Trust me, Riley. If I see…if I see it isn’t you inside,” Ian muttered, his deep voice tortured and low, “I’ll make it right.”

  He saw the truth glittering in Ian’s deep blue eyes and nodded. Looking toward the woods, he said, “Okay, then. Let’s get this over with.”

  As they quickly made their way across the slick lawn, the fury of the storm crashed down over their heads, drenching them from head to toe, providing the cover they needed to reach the woods. Ian made the change as they moved, his body fluidly shifting into the powerful shape of his Merrick. Deadly talons slipped through the tips of his fingers, his body expanding, bulging with muscle, while the bones in his face cracked and shifted, his nose flattening against his face, the Merrick’s fangs slipping from his gums. Riley and Shrader held their guns aimed at the trees as they moved, making their way into the cover of the forest. Shrader signaled that he’d go west, coming up behind whoever was out there, while Riley and Ian kept moving forward, separating as they traveled deeper into the woods. The seconds stretched out, ticking away…one by one, and then Riley caught a flash of blond hair from the corner of his eye, and in the next instant, a man was rushing toward him. Riley fired off a shot, but the bastard just kept coming, slamming him into the rough trunk of a tree, pinning his forearms against the bark.

  No way in hell is this thing human, he thought, struggling to break free of the man’s powerful hold, when the blonde threw back his head, revealing a long, lethal set of fangs.

  “Ian! Shrader!” he called out, lifting his knee and nailing his assailant between the legs. Riley could feel his own fangs stinging within his gums, the power of the Merrick’s fury pumping through his system, building…drawing closer…closer…urging him to rip the bastard’s throat out. He could smell the heat of the man’s body…of his blood. Could feel the beat of his heart. The rhythm of his pulse.

  “No,” he growled, his eyes burning from the sting of the wind and rain as he bashed his forehead into the guy’s hawklike nose. The blow whipped the man’s head back, but he released Riley’s left arm and countered with a sharp right that damn near broke his jaw.

  “Get down!” Shrader’s guttural voice suddenly shouted, and Riley threw himself to the side just before the Watchman unloaded a round of ammo into the man’s back. The blonde spun and fell to the ground, his body jerking as though he’d been electrocuted, his muscles contorting with violent spasms.

  “He isn’t human,” Riley panted, using his free hand to push his wet hair back from his face, while Shrader kept his gun trained on the man lying face-first in the mud. “He had fangs.”

  “Do you think he’s one of Westmore’s—” Shrader began, when the man stirred, pushing sluggishly up onto his arms. Shrader made a move, as if to fire again, but Riley held up his hand, catching sight of the healing wound in the man’s throat as the blonde straightened his upper body and gave them a cold smile.

  “You didn’t get those pearly whites out for Kellan the other night,” Riley called out over the distant boom of thunder.

  “He didn’t give me enough time,” the man replied, wiping his bloodied face on his arm.

  “And before, when we fought your kind at Westmore’s headquarters?” Riley asked, wondering what the hell this guy was. They’d known that Westmore’s men weren’t human, but he was no closer to identifying their species now than he’d been before.

  “We can only release our fangs at night,” the man explained, his thin eyes beginning to glow a strange, demonic red. “Plus, Westmore didn’t want us flaunt
ing our abilities. The fewer who know what we really are, the better. But these are special circumstances tonight.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked, wondering where Ian was, and hoping like hell that he was okay. “And why’s that?”

  “We’ve been given orders to do whatever it takes to bring you in before Gregory gets his teeth into you.”

  Riley’s mouth tightened. “And why do you want me?”

  “If he decides not to let your Casus have you, Westmore thinks he might be able to trade you for the code to the maps,” the blonde told him, his words cut with cocky arrogance, as if he enjoyed bragging about their plans. “But really, I think he just likes the idea of screwing Gregory over, since he knows how badly that bastard wants you.”

  “And is that why you were trying to get your hands on Kellan? Does Westmore think he’ll make a good trade as well?”

  The jackass smiled. “It would be fun to see just how easy it would be to break the two of you. We’re pretty creative when we want to be. Just think of the things we could do to any one of you. How long do you think your friends and family would hold out before giving us exactly what we want?”

  Ignoring the asshole’s taunting question, Shrader growled, “So where are your Collective buddies? We’ve heard they’re in town as well.”

  “Following Gregory,” the man said, pulling himself up to his feet. “They’ve finally been given the order to take him down. Calder had hoped one of you would manage to fry his ass so that he didn’t have to deal with him back in Meridian, but you were taking too long.”

  Riley was about to demand an explanation of just what Westmore and his men were, when Ian showed up, his lethal talons pressed against the throat of the man he steered before him. Looking at Riley, he said, “I don’t know who this prick is, but he claims you’ll vouch for him.”