Edge of Desire

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Riley took in the stranger’s short black hair and pale, ice-blue eyes. “You’re the one who warned Kellan the other night, aren’t you?”

  The corner of the man’s mouth kicked up with a wry grin, his rugged, arrogant face showing not a trace of fear. “I’d nod,” he drawled, “but I rather like my throat in one piece. But, yeah, that was me.”

  “And just who the hell are you?” Riley asked, slipping the Glock back into his holster.

  “Call off your brother,” the stranger murmured, “and I’ll be happy to tell you everything, including what I know.”

  Riley nodded at Ian, and his brother snarled as he lowered his hand, shoving the guy away from him.

  “Now, first things first,” the man said. “Right now, there are about fifteen more of Westmore’s men closing in on you.”

  As if in response to his words, several figures rushed from the shadowed forest and surrounded them, the pouring rain having made it impossible to scent their approach. Though the men didn’t carry any weapons, every last one of them was fanged, their eyes burning with the now familiar flickering glow of red.

  Facing their attackers, the four men backed into a tight circle, while Riley slanted a dark look toward the blue-eyed stranger who stood on his left. “If you know how to kill these bastards,” he snarled, “now might be a good time to share it.”

  “Only wood can kill them,” the man said in a low voice.

  “Wood?” he grunted. “Are you friggin’ serious?”

  The stranger nodded. “Sounds bizarre, I know. But the only way to take them down is to stake them through the heart with solid wood.”

  Shrader made a rude sound in the back of his throat, reaching behind him to slip his gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Are we seriously going to listen to this prick?” he grunted, releasing the deadly claws and fangs of his beast, his eyes glowing a bright, glittering amber in the stormy darkness.

  “We can argue later,” the man said. “Right now, I suggest we pick up any branches we can find and start taking them down.”

  “I have a better idea,” Riley muttered, cutting his gaze up toward the windblown branches of the trees, the storm-tossed limbs reminding him of raised arms swaying to some violent, primal rhythm. “When I give the word, you guys hit the ground. I’m talking flat out.”

  “What the hell are you going to do?” Shrader snarled, while Westmore’s men started moving in, their red eyes flickering like demonic bursts of light in the rain-drenched darkness.

  “Just do it!” Riley shouted, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes, focusing on what he wanted…creating the image in his mind with sharp, specific detail. “Now!” he suddenly roared, clenching his teeth as he opened his eyes and blasted out the mental command. The power surged through him, a sharp, piercing pain radiating through his head, and he bent forward, a warm spill of blood pouring from his nose, same as it had when he’d used the gift to keep Hope’s door closed during the fight. But this time it was stronger…the pain ripping through him like a knife as he lifted his gaze, watching the trees shake, almost as though a violent earthquake was vibrating up from the ground beneath them. A deep, guttural roar tore from his throat, the pressure in his head excruciating, and then the trees exploded into movement, the gnarled, heavy branches slashing toward the ground and spearing through Westmore’s men. Bloodcurdling shouts of agony filled the air as the branches drove through their backs, piercing straight into their hearts, then bursting from their chests with bright, gruesome sprays of blood.

  Riley held it for as long as he could, until the pressure became too great and he released his hold on the power, the branches instantly whipping back up into the air, taking the bodies of Westmore’s men with them. A great, crushing wave of relief swept through him, and his legs gave way, his knees hitting the muddy ground, sinking into the wet earth, his lungs working so hard it felt like they’d explode. He heard someone mutter, “Holy mother of God,” and Riley lowered his head, not wanting to see the horrific results of what he’d done.

  “Are they all dead?” he gasped, working to draw in a deep breath.

  “Most of them got staked and the rest are running,” Shrader told him, his deep voice cut with a note of awe, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. “I gotta tell you, man, that was some pretty serious—”

  “Are you okay?” Ian grunted, cutting the Watchman off, and Riley could tell by the tone of his brother’s voice that he was once again in his human shape.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Just have a helluva headache.” Riley glanced up at the blue-eyed stranger, who was standing to his left, the man’s expression one of curiosity and caution. “Thanks for the tip,” he muttered, pushing his wet hair back from his face.

  The guy nodded, and Shrader approached him, a belligerent expression pulling the Watchman’s face into a hard scowl, his fangs and claws withdrawn back into his body for the time being. “My, what blue eyes you have, Grandma,” he sneered in a warped rendition of the classic line from Little Red Riding Hood. “You wanna tell us what you’re doing helping out the ones your kind is trying to kill?”

  “I might be one of the unlucky few in my family to inherit the Casus’s baby blues, but I’m not a bad guy,” the stranger murmured. “At least, not yet.

  “And if you’re smart, you’ll listen to me. From what I can tell, Westmore’s men were the first wave of tonight’s attack. The second wave should be coming along any second now.”

  “Until then,” Riley gasped, pushing himself to his feet, “why don’t you go ahead and tell us who you are.”

  “Better yet, what are you?” Ian demanded, while Riley made his way to one of the nearby trees, resting his back against the rough bark, his body still drained from the effort of using his power.

  “My name’s Noah Winston, and I’m someone whose family bloodline is pulling me into the middle of the coming war, just like it’s done to the Buchanans.” A wry smile tipped at the corner of his mouth. “We’re just not intended to fight for the same side.”

  Shrader gave a low, rough laugh. “Winston? I get it now. You belong to one of the Casus bloodlines. I’ve heard the name before.” Looking toward Ian and Riley, he said, “The Winstons have been under Watchmen surveillance as long as the Buchanans. They’re one of the strongest Casus bloodlines known to exist. Descendants of human women who were raped by those Casus bastards, and somehow managed to survive.”

  Catching Noah’s icy gaze, Riley said, “If your bloodline’s so powerful, why haven’t the Casus shades used you as hosts yet?”

  “Rumor has it that they’re saving us for when the big names come across. Personally, I’d rather remain standing in my own skin, and so would the rest of my family. Like the Buchanans,” Noah explained, “we’ve had our own students of the paranormal. Family members who devoted their entire lives to discovering what they could about the return of the Casus. Along the way, they’ve uncovered pieces of the puzzle that I believe can help you. For instance, what do you know about Westmore and his men?”

  “We know they’re not human,” Riley admitted. “But that’s about it.”

  Noah nodded, saying, “We figured you weren’t aware of their species. To be honest, outside the Deschanel—or vampires, as they’re more commonly called—there are few who even know of their existence. But they’re called the Kraven, the unfortunate byproduct of a Casus and a vamp. Like the human females who bore children after Casus attacks, there were even a greater number of vampires who gave birth after being raped by those monsters. The Deschanel clan looks on the Kraven as an embarrassment—an abomination—which is why their existence is such a closely guarded secret. One that few of the Consortium even know about. The Kraven can pass for humans, and it’s believed that while they have incredibly long life spans, sometimes living for hundreds of years, they also go through long periods of hibernation. They’re not as strong as a pure-blooded vamp, and their fangs only come out at night. For the most part, the Kraven live in the shadow of
the Deschanel, treated little better than slaves.”

  “That would explain how Westmore was able to give the Collective the location of the vampire nesting grounds,” Shrader muttered.

  Noah nodded. “They’re considered somewhat unstable, but not stupid. For Westmore to betray the Deschanel, he must have a good source of protection in line.”

  “Which might explain why he wants to bring back the Casus,” Ian murmured.

  “Possibly,” Noah replied. “Though he’s an idiot if he thinks he can make a deal with the devil and survive. But to be honest, we don’t know a hell of a lot about his motivations or what he’s after. And, at this point, we don’t understand his obsession with the Markers any more than you guys do.”

  Scrubbing his hands down his wet face, Shrader muttered, “Christ, this thing is like a fucking onion. The deeper we peel it, the shittier the smell.” Glaring at Noah, he said, “And how is it that no one knows you’re here? Where’s your surveillance?”

  Noah’s mouth curved in an arrogant smile. “I slipped them back in San Francisco.”

  Shrader grunted in response, muttering something about the Watchmen unit assigned to the Winstons. Though Riley tried to focus on what the Watchman was saying, it was becoming harder to concentrate, his heart pounding…his body burning with heat, despite the frigid chill of the rain. He hadn’t experienced the full change yet, but it was coming.

  Narrowing his gaze on Noah’s rugged face, he suddenly said, “If you’ve been hanging around town watching everyone, do you know where Gregory is?”

  “He’s most likely with the female,” Noah murmured. “I imagine they’ll be coming along anytime now.”

  “Female?” Ian grunted, his body going rigid with the same jolt of surprise that had just slammed through all three of them. “What female?”

  Noah looked around at their shocked expressions, then slowly shook his head. “You didn’t think the Casus would all be males, did you?” he asked with a low laugh. “Immortality didn’t come until puberty, and from what I’ve heard, very few of the women made it that far. But there are females. Pretty vicious ones, too. Not the kind of bitches you want to go messing around with. Your redheaded friend must have some serious balls to try to screw this one for information.” Frowning, he said, “How is it that he knows about her but you guys don’t?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Riley growled, his heart beating so hard it damn near burst its way out of his chest, as he straightened away from the tree.

  “The little green-eyed bitch,” Noah grunted. “She’s one of them.”

  “A Kraven?” he asked, while a cold, deadly fear began to creep through him, sickening and rank, making him feel ill.

  “No, a Casus,” Noah told him, an uneasy look spilling over the man’s face.

  “But she has green eyes,” Riley growled, fisting his hands at his sides. “And the Casus’s eyes are blue, damn it.”

  Noah shook his head again. “Not the females’ eyes. Those are always green.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” he gasped, reaching out with one hand to steady himself against the tree as his head began to swim.

  “What?” Ian asked, the single word thick with frustration. “What’s going on?”

  “Kellan,” he growled. “It’s all been some kind of setup!”

  “What has?” Shrader grunted, sounding thoroughly confused.

  “Kellan has been seeing some woman in town since we got here. Picked her up at some bar. Christ, he told me he was going to call her and have her come to the motel to wait with him and Hope tonight. He was worried about her being alone during the storm.”

  Shrader and Ian were both stunned into silence, their grim expressions mirroring their dread.

  Taking an aggressive step toward Noah, Riley snarled, “Why didn’t you warn him?”

  “I thought he knew!” Noah shot back. “That he was using her to try to get information. It never occurred to me that he didn’t know she was one of them!”

  Shaking with fear, Riley pulled out his cell phone, but there was no service. Cursing under his breath, he took off running, thinking that if he could just reach the house before the second wave of the attack arrived, then he could grab Hope’s keys and use her car to get to town. He could feel his control slipping, the Merrick’s rage struggling to break free, but he did his best to beat it down. Whatever happened, he couldn’t lose it.

  Not yet, damn it. Not yet.

  Pushing his body as fast as it would go, he raced through the forest, knowing only that he had to do whatever he could to reach her…before it was too late.

  STANDING AT THE motel-room window, Kellan watched as the storm seemed to swell with rage, a series of jagged lightning strikes illuminating the drenched night in violent splashes of brilliance. He cast a quick look down at his watch again, wondering where Pasha was. He’d called her on his way into town with Hope, and they’d agreed to meet at this motel, since it was closer to Millie’s than the one where she was staying. But now he wished he’d just gone ahead and picked her up. She should have been there by now, and the worry was only adding to his sharp, seething frustration. He didn’t mind protecting Hope—knew that Riley would never have let her go with him if he didn’t trust Kellan to keep her alive, which was a hell of an honor. But it still chafed that he was missing out on the battle.

  Choking back a growl, he wondered when they were going to stop treating him like a kid, then immediately found himself shaking his head. Hell, they were probably just waiting for him to stop acting like a screwup. Waiting for him to grow up and stop letting his dick get him into trouble.

  “Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Hope asked from the chair she’d been sitting in for the past half hour, her soft voice pulling him from his internal grumblings.

  Sending her a crooked grin, Kellan did his best to ease her tension, noticing the way her hands were twisted together in her lap, her face pale…eyes shadowed by fear. “Yeah. Riley’s a tough son of a bitch, and he’s got Ian and Shrader with him. That should be enough to scare the shit out of anything or anyone who tries to mess with them.”

  “I tried to call his cell phone,” she murmured, “but the storm’s knocked out my reception.”

  “Yeah, mine, too. But they’ll come into town and meet us here just as soon as they can.” Trying to get her mind onto something other than her worry, he said, “Hey, did Riley ever tell you about those tattoos on his shoulder? About what they mean?”

  She shook her head, giving him a curious look. “No. I thought they were just designs.”

  With an easy smile tipping the corner of his mouth, Kellan explained how Riley’s tattoos were actually a blend of different symbols and words, ranging from Celtic to Asian to Egyptian, all of them with one basic theme. Hope. According to Riley, the design had started with one small symbol, and then he just kept adding from there, until the dark tattoo had eventually grown into the swirling pattern that it was today. She absorbed the story with a soft look of wonder on her face, obviously making the same connection that he had between her name and that symbolic badge of “hope” that Riley wore on his body.

  Checking his watch again, Kellan cursed a soft string of swearwords under his breath, and she said, “Do you think something’s happened to your friend?”

  “I hope to hell not,” he rasped, hating the sickening slide of guilt that was beginning to creep through his insides. He’d told Pasha several times not to tell anyone that she knew him, and he’d always been vigilant in making sure that no one followed him when he met her in town. He’d been careful, damn it. But he still couldn’t get the weird feeling out of his gut. The one telling him that things were going south…and fast.

  When headlights suddenly flashed across the window, he blew out a rough breath of relief, and immediately went to the door, yanking it open. Though he hadn’t gone into detail, Kellan had told her that his friends were expecting some trouble out at Millie’s tonight, explaining that he was bringing Hope into town to
keep her out of any possible danger. She probably thought he was crazy, but he didn’t give a damn. All that mattered was keeping the women safe until this thing had played itself out. She parked next to Riley’s truck, and he watched as she climbed out of her car, holding her coat over her head as she made her way through the heavy rain, the wind whipping her long hair across her face.

  “Has something already happened?” she asked, taking in his and Hope’s tense expressions as she rushed into the room. “You both look pale.”

  “Not yet,” he muttered, shutting the door behind her. “But I’ve been worried about you. What took you so long?”

  “Sorry,” she told him, tossing her coat onto the foot of the bed as she sent Hope a friendly smile, “but the weather’s awful. Most people are leaving town until the worst of it’s over, and I got caught in the traffic.”

  Kellan made the introductions, and then went back to his place by the window, too restless to sit down. He half listened as Pasha made idle chitchat with Hope, talking about the town, the café, while his thoughts centered on his friends back at Millie’s. He’d just checked his phone for the umpteenth time, shoving it back into the case clipped on his belt, when Pasha came up behind him, her cold hands massaging his tense shoulders. “Don’t worry,” she murmured, pressing her voluptuous body against his back, her fingers dancing their way up the strained cords in his neck. “I’m sure the Buchanan boys will handle themselves just fine tonight.”

  Before her words could sink in, there was a sharp sting on the side of his throat, and he lifted his fingers to the burning skin, jerking around to face her. Wondering what in God’s name was going on, he winced from the pain in his neck and said, “How did you know that, Pash?”

  “How did I know what?” she asked, taking a step back, her expression one of confused innocence.

  Sweat was covering his skin now, his mouth dry, the fire in his neck spreading…climbing into his face. Sinking into his chest. “I didn’t say anything about Riley’s brother being in town,” he growled. “So how did you know that he’s here? How do you even know who the Buchanans are?”