Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05

Prague, Czech Republic

Saturday night

THE CLUB REEKED OF SEX, DRUGS and rock ’n’ roll.

If you can call that god-awful noise rock, Morgan
Cantrell thought, wishing she’d brought along a set of earplugs. Though she was
hardly an expert, the female Watchman doubted the techno trash blaring out of
the club’s sound system at one hundred decibels could even be classified as
music. Torture seemed a more fitting description. Her eardrums—far more
sensitive than a human’s—were probably bleeding in protest, but she tuned out
the pain, focusing instead on her target. On the man, or werewolf, that she’d
specifically come to track down.

Filled with every kind of depraved vice imaginable,
the dark, trendy establishment was the last place on earth she ever would have
expected to find fellow Watchman Kierland Scott. And yet, Morgan knew the tall,
auburn-haired hunk wedged between two willowy, scantily dressed swan
shape-shifters was Kierland. Even with the distance of the massive, strobe-lit
room between them, she recognized the hard, rugged angles of his gorgeous face.
Recognized that racehorse-lean body that looked as lethal as it did delicious.
He wore a faded pair of jeans that hung low on his hips, scuffed leather boots
and a soft white shirt that perfectly showcased his sun-darkened coloring and
muscled physique, though she knew he would have chosen the clothes solely for
comfort. Despite his outrageous good looks, he wasn’t vain or pretentious. He
was just pure, mouthwatering male animal. Beautiful. Dangerous. And built for
sin.

Morgan’s breath shortened just as her pulse quickened,
and she burned under her suddenly too-tight skin, feeling as if she’d swallowed
something hot and thick. It didn’t matter how they felt about each other.
Didn’t matter that they couldn’t stand to be in the same room together. Despite
how much she disliked him, he always made her feel as if she’d been injected
with an overdose of sex hormones…or some kind of head-spinning aphrodisiac.

Don’t you mean how much you wish you disliked him?

Pushing the heavy curtain of her hair over her
shoulders, Morgan tuned out the irritating voice in her head and focused
instead on her surroundings, instinctively searching for any signs of danger.
The establishment was obviously geared toward nonhuman clientele, as it was
packed with wall-to-wall clansmen. A dynamic, diverse collection of paranormal
species, the ancient clans had lived hidden among human society for centuries,
the secret of their existence guarded by the organization of shifters she and Kierland
worked for, called the Watchmen.

When Morgan had first walked through the door, leaving
the howling January winds behind her, she’d been overwhelmed by the strong,
thick scents of the varying species all roiling together on the dance floor,
their sweat-slicked bodies moving in a kind of hypnotic, sexual frenzy. There
were Lycans, witches, various shifters and even a few Deschanel vampires,
though they looked over the crowd with the same cocky expression as Kierland,
as if they found all the writhing madness a bit beneath them.

Wearing jeans and boots herself, along with a tight
black turtleneck sweater, Morgan had more skin covered than any other woman in
the club, which suited her just fine. She hadn’t come to join the meat market.
She just needed to talk to Kierland and tell him why she was there.

So get on with it, then. Don’t just stand here
gathering dust.

“Right,” she whispered under her breath, and yet, she
didn’t move, her heartbeat picking up speed while her skin went cold and
clammy, even with that sensual burn of heat still smoldering inside her. There
were too many people, and without enough space, she could feel that familiar
flare of panic that had haunted her for the past decade creeping up on her.

Taking a deep breath, she struggled to maintain
control. It would be deadly to lose her cool in a place like this. There were
too many predators who might seize on the opportunity to bully her. See her as
easy game and move in for the kill, for no other reason than she was weaker
than they were.

Descended from a freethinking line of shifters who had
bred with various species from generation to generation—lion with fawn, wolf
with lamb—Morgan was unable to take the shape of any specific animal, and was
therefore considered “lacking” by most of the shape-shifting breeds. The
prejudice sucked, but it was the nature of the beast for many of the clans. And
she hadn’t let it hold her back from what she’d wanted, which was to become a
Watchman like her paternal grandfather had been. She’d simply trained longer
and harder than her peers, tirelessly honing her skills to compensate for the
fact that she could only manage a small set of fangs and short claws, and had
ended up a damn good Watchman as a result. She no longer even thought of her
inability to shift as a weakness, but used it to her advantage, knowing her
adversaries often underestimated her.

The only true weakness she had was this nauseating
fear of being crowded in by people, the sensation worse when she was indoors,
without the freedom of the skies over her head. She wanted so badly to turn
tail and return to the wide-open spaces of the night, but there was no turning
back. Though she hated the situation, she would have to fight through it. Would
have to force herself into that massive, swirling crowd if she was going to
make her way to Kierland on the other side.

“Just do it,” she quietly growled, her hands flexing
at her sides as she took a step forward, and then another. Her vision swam and
her throat started to close up as a trickle of sweat slipped down her spine,
but she pushed on, refusing to give in to her fears.

Don’t look at anyone but Kierland. Just stay focused
on him.

It was easy to follow the mental instructions, since
the Lycan was so big. So…satisfying to watch, and she wasn’t the only one who
held that opinion. More than a few hungry, covetous stares covered his tall,
muscle-sculpted form, drinking him in, coming from women and men alike. You
could literally feel the power emanating from him. The strength and deadly potential
that he held under such masterful control. It was mesmerizing, drawing you
closer like a spell, until you just wanted to press up against him. Touch his
dark skin with the sensitive tips of your fingers, just to feel that hypnotic
power pulsing and buzzing beneath the surface.

As she watched, he leaned back against the long bar,
his stance casual as the blond shifters pressed in close to his sides, their
looks so similar Morgan figured they must be sisters. Maybe even twins. They
were exceptionally beautiful, but then swans always were, their pale skin and
nearly white-blond hair denoting their species. They were also, in Morgan’s
experience, all a bit birdbrained…and well-known for their jealous rages. They
weren’t going to like her moving in on their territory—and she knew, without
any doubt, that the hardheaded Lycan would be less than thrilled to see her.

He always is.

It was odd, how much that particular truth still
bothered her. After a decade of discord between them, during which they’d avoided
one another as much as possible, she really should have gotten used to it by
now. Frustrating that she hadn’t been able to master that simple concept, no
matter how hard she’d tried.

She’d last seen him a week ago at Harrow House, his
family estate in England and the house where his Watchmen unit had recently
relocated from Colorado for protection purposes. Though Morgan herself had been
a part of the Watchmen compound in Reno for the past five years, she’d joined
up with Kierland’s unit a month ago, after his brother Kellan had called,
saying that he and the others could use her help protecting a little girl named
Jamie Harcourt from a group of Casus monsters who were hunting her. Together,
Morgan and the others had made it to England, where they’d met up with
Kierland. He’d stayed at Harrow House with them until all the necessary
security upgrades had been made to the previously abandoned mansion, but the
second he’d been able to leave, he’d run. Though his friends had wanted him to
stay, he’d claimed he still had unfinished business in Prague, where he’d been
in negotiations with the Consortium, the governing body of officials who ruled
over the remaining ancient clans.

Or maybe he’d simply been itching to get back to his
girlfriends.

Shaking off the disturbing thought, Morgan was trying
to decide the best way to approach him, when Kierland’s head suddenly shot up,
and she knew he’d scented her. Strands of dark auburn hair fell over his brow,
and the full, sensual shape of his mouth compressed into a hard, tight line the
moment his pale green gaze zeroed in on her. Although severe irritation was
carved into his fierce expression, it was that piercingly sharp, almost
violently intense glare that made her shiver.

What? Like I expected him to be happy to see me? Get
real. He’d rather cozy up with a rabid chipmunk.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded in a low rasp,
the instant she was within hearing distance. “Are you alone? Where are the
others?”

She wasn’t surprised by the rapid sequence of
questions, considering how dangerous it was for the Watchmen at the moment to
be out on their own. After all, they were at war.

Although the Watchmen weren’t meant to interfere in
the world of the clans, unless ordered to do so by their superiors, times had
changed with the return of the Casus—and the awakening of the once formidable
Merrick clan.

Though the Merrick had once been one of the most
powerful of the ancient clans, their numbers were decimated after years of war,
and they eventually took human mates. For centuries, the clan’s unique traits
had remained dormant within their human descendants—until the recent return of
the Casus and the beginnings of the war.

A sadistic race of immortal creatures who were
imprisoned over a thousand years ago for their crimes against humanity and the
Merrick, the Casus had finally discovered the means to escape from their
metaphysical holding ground. Needing the power that came with feeding upon
their longtime enemies, they began to hunt down the awakening Merrick,
determined to destroy them once and for all.