Touch of Surrender

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “And how do we know they’re not still here?” she whispered, while he pushed open the door and walked into the apartment.

  “Intuition?” he offered over his shoulder.

  “Intuition my ass,” Morgan muttered, sniffing at the air. There was only a faint trace of a rich, tantalizing scent that reminded her of Ashe, so she figured it belonged to Gideon. Made sense, since it was his apartment. But that was all she could pick up.

  “This must have been what he meant by that ‘catastrophe’ comment,” she called out, stepping over a sofa cushion. Though the apartment had obviously been gorgeous at one point, it now reminded Morgan of something that’d been caught in the middle of a stampede. Furniture was overturned, covering the floor, along with upended drawers and shredded upholstery. “Since Gideon mentioned it in the message, he must know about it. Which means that he’s come and gone since the place was wrecked. What do you think happened?”

  “Either someone was looking for something,” Kierland grunted, turning in a slow circle in the middle of the thrashed room, “or the vamp has really pissed someone off.”

  Morgan pushed her hands into her pockets and shrugged. “From what I’ve heard about Gideon, there’s no telling. He’s considered the ‘wild one’ in the Granger family, and knowing what I do about Ashe, that’s some distinction.”

  Kierland raked his hair away from his forehead and said, “Just look around and see what you can find.”

  Walking into the kitchen, Morgan almost laughed when she spotted the envelope stuck to the stainless steel surface of the fridge. It was held in place by a magnet that read “Mind your fingers, I bite….”

  “Hey, Kier. There’s an envelope in here marked WOLFMAN. I’m thinking that means you.”

  He came into the kitchen, opened the envelope and gingerly pulled out a small glass vial. Inside was a shimmering, pearlescent liquid, but there were no identifying labels to say what it was. With a deep notch etched between his brows, he pulled out a piece of paper next and scanned the handwritten lines of script.

  “What’s it say?”

  He muttered something under his breath that sounded like “Bloody idiot,” then handed her the note so that she could read it for herself.

  Kierland,

  Got your message and sorry I can’t be of assistance. My advice is to ask Ashe. I can imagine how you’re reacting right about now, which is why I left you this note instead of calling. Plus, I wanted you to have the “sparkler.” Thought it might come in handy where you’re headed. If you don’t know how to use it, Ashe can explain.

  Don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’m following a lead on the Death-Walkers. Could be something big, but I hope to hell it’s not true. If it is, we’re going to have a problem. Like we need more of those, eh?

  Haven’t been able to get in touch with Ashe for you, but I’ll keep trying. Not sure where he is at the moment…. I’ll let you know when I find him.

  And don’t worry about locking up when you leave. Got someone coming to fix the door this afternoon. I’d have waited for you, but time is tight and I knew you were too much of a nosy bastard not to go ahead and let yourself in. Can you hear me laughing?

  Gideon

  Morgan slid a curious look toward the vial that Kierland still held in his hand. “Do you know what a ‘sparkler’ is?”

  He closed his fingers around the object and shook his head. “You?”

  “Not a clue.” Propping her hip against the small island that stood in the center of the kitchen’s granite floor, she braced herself for the inevitable argument that was sure to come with her next words. “So I guess this means we’re going with plan B, then.”

  He snorted, crossed his arms over his wide chest, propped his shoulder against the fridge, then snorted again. “I thought I already told you that lame-ass joke isn’t funny.”

  “You got any other bright ideas?” she asked, knowing damn well that he didn’t. “Face it, Kier. Ashe is our best option.”

  He made a thick, guttural sound in the back of his throat, while a muscle began to tic below his left eye. “And how exactly are we meant to find him?” he muttered, the scent of his fury rising, making her feel as if his anger was a living thing there in the room with them. A deadly predator, dark and impossibly dangerous. “Christ, Morgan. His own brother doesn’t even know where he is, and he isn’t returning your calls.”

  She took a deep breath, then quietly said, “Actually, that won’t be a problem, because I can track Ashe, as well. Even more easily than I can track Kell.”

  FEELING AS IF HE WAS ABOUT TO burst the confines of his skin, Kierland walked out of the kitchen and headed for the full-length wall of windows that covered one entire side of the apartment, thankful that Morgan couldn’t see his expression. He felt too raw, as if a layer of skin had been peeled away, leaving nothing but blood and bones and this visceral, destructive burn of fury clawing against his insides.

  He could tell by her footsteps and her scent that she’d followed him into the room, though she was careful not to get too close.

  “So you bit him, too?” He ground his jaw, unable to get the infuriating image of Morgan sinking her fangs into Ashe Granger out of his head. And she must have done it more than once, if she had a better “track” on the vamp than she did on Kellan. The thought of it made Kierland want to put his hands around something and squeeze. And by something, he meant Granger’s throat.

  Huskily, she said, “Don’t you think that falls under the category of ‘We really shouldn’t go there’?”

  “I’m starting to think that maybe we should.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to face her. “If we’re going to be stuck using Ashe as a guide—” just saying the words made him feel like killing something “—then I need to know exactly where things stand between the two of you.”

  She gave him a hard, steely stare. “We’re friends, and that’s all you need to know.”

  Cocking his head a little to the side, Kierland studied her expression. “No lingering resentment after what he did?”

  “You mean dumping me?” she guessed, surprising him with a soft laugh.

  “Yeah.”

  “Nope.”

  She said it so easily—almost too easily—and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Unless that’s not how it really happened.”

  With a quick, startled blink, she asked, “What are you talking about?”

  Watching her closely, he said, “I’ve always assumed that he got wind of what you’d done, going after him on orders the way that you did, and his pride demanded he break it off with you. That even knowing you’d fallen in love with him, he couldn’t get past what you’d done. But considering the way he would still watch you, unable to take his eyes off you…I don’t know. There’s always been something that didn’t quite add up. So now I’m thinking that maybe that wasn’t how it happened, after all.”

  With a soft, feminine snort, she shook her head and smiled. “Why would any woman in her right mind dump a guy like Ashe? And for that matter, why would you even care?”

  “Like I said before, you were worth more than the Consortium realized. Hell, Morgan, you had more natural talent than any other student I’d ever had.”

  The roughly spoken words produced an immediate effect in her, the confident smile replaced by a look of almost vulnerable emotion that seemed completely unlike her. The slender column of her throat worked as she swallowed, and then she tore her gaze away from his, her hands pushed back into her pockets as she said, “If that’s true, then you’ll be happy to know that they’ve changed their minds about my worth. I’ve been offered a place on the Consortium’s Private Guard.”

  Kierland stared, stunned by what she’d just said. Being offered a place on The Guard was one of the highest honors any clansman or -woman could receive, the position one of both wealth and prestige. Comprised of the most highly skilled warriors from all the clans, The Guard provided special security not only for the Consortium, but also t
o any persons of importance who were put under the Consortium’s protection. If the circumstances were different and the Consortium leaders were supporting their fight against the Casus, Kierland had no doubt that Guards would already be stationed at Harrow House. But the Consortium had become too bogged down in bureaucracy, corruption and their own egos to take appropriate action, and were now doing their best to ignore the problem.

  “So unless the Consortium’s stance on your conflict with the Casus changes, this is the last time you’ll be stuck working with me, Kier. In a few months, I’ll no longer even be a Watchman.” Her mouth twisted with a tight, bitter smile, and she suddenly looked back at him, locking her luminous gaze with his. “And after that, you and I won’t ever have to see each other again.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kladno, Czech Republic

  Sunday afternoon

  IT WAS HELL FOR KIERLAND, sitting there in the trendy coffeehouse, watching Morgan zone out as she stared at a snapshot of Ashe Granger that she’d tucked into the photo flap inside her wallet. To make it worse, it was a photograph of the two of them together. Morgan was sitting in the bastard’s lap at what looked like some sort of Christmas party, a sexy red and black Santa hat on her head, her slim arms wrapped around the vamp’s wide shoulders. They were both smiling, looking happy to be together, and Kierland wondered for the millionth time what the guy had been thinking to walk away from her.

  Or maybe the vamp hadn’t been thinking at all. Maybe he’d just been a dumb, arrogant jackass who hadn’t realized what he’d had until he’d lost it.

  Whatever the reason, Kierland couldn’t help but wonder if Ashe wished for a different relationship with Morgan now. And if so, how the hell was he going to deal with that when the three of them were trudging across the effing Wasteland together?

  Though he was a werewolf, Kierland had always considered himself a rational, civilized male. One who had remarkable control over his baser, predatory instincts. But he knew his limits. Knew exactly how much he was capable of handling…and what would push him over the edge. He was already worried sick about his brother. Not to mention the war. Throwing the Morgan problem on top of that worry was like letting an arsonist play with matches. Sooner or later, something bad was going to happen…and then the whole thing would end up in hot, fiery flames.

  “How long is this going to take?” he muttered, sounding like a recalcitrant old grump. He wondered if that was how Morgan thought of him, and grimaced as he shifted in his chair, his long legs cramped from sitting at the table for so long. “We’ve been here almost two hours now. If I have any more coffee I’m gonna be bouncing off the friggin’ walls.”

  “I’m almost done,” she murmured, transferring her gaze from the photograph to the map of Europe that she’d laid out across the table when they’d first sat down. She ran her fingertip lightly over the surface, reminding Kierland of a scene from a movie he’d seen that had portrayed a group of teenage girls playing with a Ouija board. Except in Morgan’s case, the magic really worked, her ability to blood-track an extraordinary gift that had been handed down from her ancestors. When they were closer, she didn’t need a map to follow the signal, but when too much distance separated her from her target, she said that the maps helped her to “zone in” on a specific area.

  “Okay,” she finally whispered, slipping the photograph back into the small leather backpack that she carried like a purse. “I think I’ve got him, but he’s not as near as I’d hoped.”

  When they’d driven out of Prague that morning, after leaving Gideon’s apartment, she’d told Kierland to head west, since that’s where she’d “felt” Ashe’s pull coming from. As they’d traveled down the motorway, her directions had gradually become more specific, until they’d found themselves heading north, toward the German border.

  “I’m thinking Hannover,” she told him, slipping the backpack onto her shoulder. “But I won’t know for sure until we get closer.”

  As they left the café, walking down the busy market street, Kierland found himself thinking back to the news she’d delivered that morning about the job with The Guard. It’d been impossible to hide his shock at the stunning announcement. He’d demanded to know the details, and she’d explained that the reassignment to his Watchmen unit was only temporary, until March, when she would be taking her first special protection assignment in southern Australia. It seemed that one of the Guards on the detail was retiring at the end of February, and Morgan would be taking his place.

  When he’d laughed and told her that she’d be bored out of her mind within a week, she’d just shaken her head and smiled. Apparently, she was going to be assigned to an eccentric family of human scholars who were studying ancient scrolls from the lost civilization of Atlantis, which had always been a topic that fascinated her. Then she’d gone on to say that it was the perfect job for her, because of the freedom and space it would afford her. A sprawling ranch house in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but wide open skies and red sand that stretches as far as the eye can see, was how she’d described the family’s home, and he could tell that she was genuinely excited about the relocation.

  Kierland, on the other hand, was still trying to come to terms with how he felt about it. Though he’d been working the idea over in his mind throughout the long hours of driving that they’d already done, he hadn’t come to any sort of conclusion. All he knew was that the relief he would have expected still hadn’t made an appearance…and he was starting to wonder if it ever would. A month ago, if you’d asked him how he’d felt about the prospect of never seeing Morgan Cantrell again, he’d have instantly responded with some smart-ass comment about his prayers finally being answered. And at the time, he would have meant it.

  Only…now, he was beginning to realize just how wrong he would have been. He still wasn’t comfortable around her…and yet, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of never seeing her again, either.

  It took forever to make their way down the busy market street, some kind of local bazaar drawing an eclectic assortment of shoppers. Kierland stayed alert to their surroundings, too seasoned a soldier to overlook the possibility that their enemies could be watching them, waiting to attack as soon as they got the chance.

  “Let’s cut through here,” he indicated, curling his fingers around Morgan’s upper arm as he guided her through the crowd, heading for a covered shop arcade that led to the street where they’d parked. “It’ll save us time.”

  She said something in response, but he lost the words beneath the hundreds of overlapping voices. As they headed farther into the arcade, the crowd became horrendous, bodies pressing in close until it was difficult to breathe. At first Kierland was just focused on keeping his hold on Morgan’s arm, making sure they didn’t get separated—but then he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of her panic-stricken expression.

  Stopping in the middle of the crowd, he turned and took both her arms, pulling her close. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She was shivering, her eyes clouded with fear, but she only stammered, “N-nothing. It’s…nothing.”

  “You’re lying,” he growled, hating that shattered look on her beautiful, sweat-misted face. “Damn it, Morgan. You’re as white as a ghost. Did you see something?”

  The crowd surged around them like a violent ocean current, pressing into her back, shoving her against him, and she gasped, her eyes going huge. “Can’t…can’t breathe,” she choked out, and it scared the hell out of him.

  Swinging her up into his arms, Kierland ignored the outraged shouts of those around them and started shoving his way through the mass of shoppers, snarling at anyone who didn’t get out of his way fast enough.

  When they were finally outside, he headed straight for the nearest truck he could find parked on the curb of the road and carefully sat her on the hood. Standing between her long legs, he ran his hands over her upper arms in what he hoped was a soothing, calming touch. “Are you sick, honey? Come on. Talk to me.”
>
  “I’m fine,” she mumbled, looking down, her hair shielding her face. Kierland reached up to push the heavy strands behind her ear, but she flinched. He stepped back a little, taking his other hand from her shoulder, sensing that she needed the space.

  Rubbing his hand over his mouth, he wondered what the hell had caused her to panic like that, while a strange surge of protective instincts flooded his system, creating chaos in its wake. Suddenly everything seemed to be shifting on him, turning wrong side up, the perceptions he’d always held about this woman twisting and flipping. Despite the hard-ass persona she tried so hard to project to the outside world—tough, fearless, independent—he was starting to realize that there was a core of something tender and soft in her. And maybe something even a little bit broken. Something Morgan was trying hard to hide from him…that she didn’t want him to know about.

  “I’m better now,” she whispered, still keeping her face averted. “Can we…can we just get to the car?”

  Kierland wanted to demand an explanation then and there, but knew she wasn’t going to give him one. “Are you sure you’re ready to move?” With the edge of his fist, he lifted her chin and studied her pale, drawn features. “You still look a little green around the gills.”

  “Probably just too much caffeine, but I’m fine.” She wet her lips, and took a deep breath. “Really. Let’s just go.”

  The Spider was parked about a block down the road, and after walking close by her side to make sure she didn’t pass out on him, Kierland opened the passenger’s door for her, waiting until she was settled with her seat belt on before shutting it. He drove through the town, vaguely familiar with its layout, since he’d done some work there for the Consortium several years ago. Wanting to avoid the traffic, he headed for a two-lane, less populated road that wove around the outskirts of the town, cutting through thick evergreen woodland, the ground still covered with the lingering remnants of the last snowfall.