Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 04 (31 page)

“Keep talking,” he demanded, forcing in those last
thick, heavily veined inches. “Tell me how you want it, Liv.”

“Harder,” she moaned, writhing beneath him. Her face
was cherry-red, her parted lips swollen and moist. “Faster!”

Her sex clamped down on him as he gave her exactly
what she’d asked for. Aiden would have been terrified he was hurting her, if
not for the way she grabbed his long hair and pulled him down to her. Her mouth
attacked his with a feral hunger as dark and desperate as his own, a breathless
cry spilling into his mouth as she crashed violently over the edge, her tender
sheath convulsing around him in tight, greedy pulls. She would have broken the
devastating kiss, gasping for air, but he took his hands from her knees,
holding her head braced between his palms as he took control of her mouth,
forcing her to keep kissing him while she kept on coming…and coming. It was,
without any doubt, the most beautiful thing Aiden had ever seen. The most
breathtaking experience of his life. Like being caught in the center of a
lashing storm, the orgasm drenched him, going on and on in a lush, clenching
caress that pulled him right along with her, straight over the edge.

Want to come inside her, the beast snarled. Flesh on
flesh. Fill her up.

He groaned, undone by the idea, trying to wrap his
lust-racked mind around how she would react. It was one thing to want him as a
man, but to come inside her without latex would mean accepting the parts of him
that were more, and he didn’t trust her enough to take that chance. Hell, he
didn’t trust her at all. Which meant that he was just going to have to suck it
up and accept the fact that this was all he could ever have from her.

And it wasn’t as if he could complain. Not when the
sex was already so good, it had all but blown the memories of every other woman
from his mind, erasing them from existence.

“I’m going over,” he growled against her mouth, coming
so hard that it hurt, the violent sensations ripping through him like a
mind-shattering blast of light and sound and bone-melting heat. As his body
released in hard, thick surges that damn near blew the top of his head off, the
beast launched its attack, fighting to break free, his fangs beginning to
descend in a sharp, hissing glide. Aiden wanted to collapse against the lush
cushion of her body, breathing in deep pulls of her warm, tantalizing scent as
her heart beat against his, and stay there…forever, but he had to move. That
instant. Before the beast pushed him to do those things that could never be
undone.

With residual pulses of pleasure still firing through
his system, he reached down to hold the condom in place as he pulled out of her
as carefully as he could, while those tight inner muscles struggled to hold him
inside her. Rolling to his back, he threw one arm over his eyes and gritted his
teeth, using everything he had to force the animal back into submission. It wasn’t
easy. Was, in fact, one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do.

Had he actually been stupid enough to think that he
could screw this woman out of his system? What a dumb ass. The experience had
been life-changing, head-twisting stuff, and it sure as hell hadn’t eased a
damn thing. He wanted nothing more than to go at her again, with nothing
between them. His body shoved a mile inside her. His fangs buried in the
smooth, tender curve of her throat, creating an unbreakable bond between them.
One that would mark her sweet little ass as his—as well as make it impossible
for him to ever leave her, no matter how deeply she grew to despise him.

I am completely losing it, he thought.

“Aiden, are you okay?”

The concern in those breathless words made him cringe,
and he locked his jaw, forcing out a gravelly “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. I can…tell that you’re lying. I wish you
would just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.” Frustration bled through the
quiet words, making them sharp. “God, I wish that you would tell me anything.”

Shaking his head, Aiden rolled up into a sitting
position, giving her his back as he moved to his feet and headed toward the
bathroom. He got rid of the condom, then walked back into the room, grabbed a
pair of jeans and a shirt and began pulling them on. He didn’t look directly at
Liv, but he was eating her up from the corner of his eye. She lay on the floor
with her legs folded to the side, arms crossed over her naked breasts, her skin
steamy and pink and damp, driving him out of his mind. Making him go as hard as
a friggin’ spike, as if he hadn’t just unloaded so violently he was still
reeling from the pleasure. He wanted to say something to make it right, but
knew that anything that might come out of his mouth at that moment would just
be a mistake.

Something had happened to him—broken him open—and now
too much was crashing down on him. Lingering fear of what he could have lost
earlier that day. Soul-shredding terror at what might happen if he failed to
protect them in the future. Not to mention how she would react if she ever
learned all the dark, ugly truths about him. And then there was the lust,
stronger than anything he could ever have imagined. That biting, twisting need
for possession. Somehow it was all wrapped up in a strange, fragile weave of
tenderness and longing and things he had no bloody frame of reference for.

It was dizzying, disorienting, and with no idea how to
handle it, Aiden sought the only option he could think of. Retreat. Hard and
fast and necessary, if he was going to be smart and stop this thing before it
snowballed any deeper into madness.

“Where are you going?” Her voice reached out to him
across the moonlit room, her gaze burning against his back as he pulled on his
boots.

“You take the bed,” he told her. “It’s time for me to
head out on patrol.”

It was a bullshit excuse, and he knew she thought the
same. But she didn’t argue or bitch or demand that he stay as she grabbed a
folded blanket off the foot of the bed, wrapping it around her naked body. He
didn’t know whether to be relieved or absurdly irritated by her reaction, which
didn’t make any sense, considering he was the bastard running out on her. With
each second that passed by, it was getting harder to hold himself together, but
he stopped at the door, knowing he owed her the truth before he left. At least
about Jamie. “Before I go, I need to tell you something. Something that bastard
told me today. It’s about your sister.”

“Monica?”

“Yeah. You see, the way the Mallory magnify emotions,”
he explained in a low voice, still not looking at her, “it, uh, affected the
Casus who took her life during the kill. That’s why they’re so desperate to get
their hands on her daughter.”

Shocked silence, and then a soft, shaky rush of words.
“But…b-but Jamie’s not even in her powers yet.”

“Yeah, well, she will be soon.”

“H-how do you know that?”

“For those of us who aren’t human,” he murmured,
hating the fear he could hear in her voice, “it’s easy to pick up.”

“Are you telling me that they want to kill an innocent
little girl because it will…” She could barely get the words out, not that he
blamed her. “What? Give them some kind of sick power high?”

“No,” he muttered, twisting the handle to open the
door. Aiden knew what his next words were going to do to her, but he couldn’t
be the one to stick around and comfort her. Not tonight. Not after what had
happened between them. “The Casus don’t want her power, Liv. They want to kill
her because of how it would make them feel. Because to one of those sick sons
of bitches, her death would be something that increased their pleasure.
Something that made them feel…unbelievably good.”

And with those gruff, ominous words, Aiden walked out
of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Prague, Czech Republic

KIERLAND HAD BEEN on the move, working to track down
Gideon Granger, since the moment he’d walked out of his hotel lobby late that
afternoon. The body count of his fellow Watchmen was stacking up, and he wanted
to know what was going on. Despite hitting all the Deschanel haunts in town, as
well as Granger’s private apartment in the city, he’d been unable to find the
vamp, and his frustration was mounting. Gideon hadn’t been in contact, and
Kierland wanted answers to his questions.

It would be dawn in a few hours, which meant that his
time was running out if he wanted to find Granger before daybreak. There was
one last nightclub that a young group of swan-shifters had suggested he check
out, the club’s clientele reportedly more clan than human, and he was making
his way there now. Cutting through an alley in one of the seedier parts of
town, along the east side of the river, he turned left and headed down a dark,
foggy lane that dated back centuries. Stone-faced buildings crowded close on
both sides of the cobbled road, the only light provided by the occasional
flickering gas lamp, the orange flames casting maniacal-looking shadows against
the pale stone walls. Up ahead he could hear the muted beat of some jarring,
god-awful modern dance music, and he frowned, finding it hard to believe that
Gideon would actually hang out in a club that played that kind of crap, even if
he was a vamp.

Making his way down the center of the road, Kierland
had covered no more than half the distance to his destination when a low, eerie
thread of laughter whispered through the foggy night, raising the tiny hairs on
the back of his neck. The childlike sound twittered like bells, but when he
looked behind him, there was no one else standing on the cobbled lane with him.
As he turned in a slow circle, a thick, rank stench reached his nose,
confirming his suspicion that he was finally getting a visit from whatever kind
of creature had attacked Aiden on Saturday morning.

“You gonna act like a coward?” he called out, his hard
voice echoing off the ancient stone walls of the surrounding buildings. “Or
show some balls and come out where I can see you?”

Turning in another slow circle, he struggled to see
through the deep, impenetrable fog, but it was like staring through dark, murky
water. He could find no trace of the creature…and then he heard a slight rasp
of breath just behind his left shoulder. With a quick spin, Kierland found
himself face-to-face with something that looked like death warmed over, but
only for an instant. Acting as if he’d startled it, the creature immediately
scurried back into the foggy darkness.

He’d have thought it had disappeared, except that he
could still hear its harsh, erratic breathing. “If you went to the trouble of
finding me,” he said in a low voice, “why bother hiding?”

Coming forward once more, the creature slithered
through the shadows as if it was nothing more than smoke, its form apparently
as vaporous as the one that had attacked Aiden, which meant that he was going
to have a hell of a time fighting it. “Granger was right,” Kierland rasped,
holding its yellow-eyed stare. “You’re not Casus.”

“Nice,” it lisped, its white lips spreading in a slow
smile that revealed jagged rows of sharp-tipped teeth. “One point goes to the
vampire.”

As it moved closer, he could see the bite marks that
covered its pale, cadaverous skin, the wounds jagged, as if pieces of flesh had
been torn away from its body. It was similar in appearance to the creature that
Aiden had described, except for a few significant differences. For one, this
thing didn’t have any of the Regan characteristics that had been apparent in
the other one. Instead, it had dark markings around its slanted eyes, reminding
Kierland of the Vassayre, one of the more reclusive clans that seldom came out
of the underground caves where they dwelled.

“Not to be rude,” he muttered, thinking that if he
could keep it talking, it might reveal something useful, “but you look like
something that’s been to hell and back.”

It clapped its chalk-white hands together, its
oval-shaped head tilting a little to the side as it scraped out another eerie
spill of laughter. “Very good, wolf boy. And a point goes to you, as well.”

“Yeah? You don’t look like a demon.”

“You’re right, of course,” it conceded with a low bow,
the moonlight glinting off the small horns protruding from its forehead. “But
then, not all demons dwell in hell, do they? And of course, not everyone in
hell is a demon.”

“If not a demon, then what are you?” he asked,
shifting his body so that his back wasn’t exposed to the open street, since he
didn’t know if this thing was on its own…or if it’d brought company.

“I’m something that has suffered more than any living
creature should ever have to endure. Tell me, do you have any idea of the
things they do to a body down there?” It glided closer, its feet not even
touching the ground. “Some of it’s so depraved, you can’t even imagine.”

“And how did you manage to escape? Far as I know, it’s
not exactly an easy place to break out of.”

Another soft thread of laughter filled the air, its
smile a sadistic blend of horror and hatred. “There’s so much that the Watchmen
don’t know. That you don’t understand. You try to play God and everything gets
all topsy-turvy.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he grunted,
quickly losing his patience.

“Oh, I can’t make it too easy for you, Lycan.” It
seemed to be gaining substance, becoming less vaporous as it slithered through
the air, slowly circling his body, careful to remain just out of his reach.
“Some things you’re just going to have to figure out for yourself.”