Touch of Surrender

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “You kill me,” he groaned, pushing the damp strands of hair back from her face as he stared deep into her eyes. “So hot and wet and tight. I could stay in you all night, Morgan, and never get enough.”

  She gasped as he reached down and touched the swollen knot of her clit, rubbing in slow circles until he could see the pleasure haze in her eyes. He lifted his hand, wetting his thumb, then used it to rub that taut bud in tight, slippery circles.

  He pushed up on his free arm, watching the way his cock stretched her, his ruddy skin slicked with her glistening juices, his breath coming in rough, ragged gusts. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he growled.

  “So are you,” she murmured, arching beneath him, and he caught the way she flicked a quick, greedy look at the vein pumping at the side of his throat. Pride roared through him, all but turning him inside out.

  “Take it,” he told her, turning his head to the side as he lowered himself over her. “Take as much as you need.”

  She groaned, touching the tip of her tongue to his skin, then sank her fangs deep, the hungry little pulls of her mouth shooting through his core, reaching all the way down to the head of his cock. He gasped for breath, grinding himself against her clit with each pumping thrust of his body as he drove himself into her, needing to get closer…deeper, until he was in every part of her. Even the ones where he didn’t belong. Where he couldn’t stay.

  They came together, on a long, cresting wave that drained them both, his face buried in the curve of her shoulder, their bodies left panting and twined together, slick with sweat despite the chill in the air. Kierland knew he should pull away, but he couldn’t, needing to soak up every moment of time with her that he could.

  He hated that with each second he moved closer to Kellan, he was also moving closer to the moment when he would have to tell Morgan goodbye. Their time together was slipping away too fast. He wanted to find Kellan, wanted to make sure his brother was safe….

  But, damn it, there was a part of him that wanted just a little more time with the woman in his arms.

  A part that didn’t want to lose what he’d only just found.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Casus/Kraven Compound

  Wednesday, 2:00 a.m.

  “THE WOLF IS GETTING CLOSER.”

  Westmore’s tone was conversational as he crossed his arms over his chest in a casual stance, his shoulder propped against the iron bars of the psychic’s cell. Most men would have found it difficult to sound so at ease when conversing with a woman who was beaten and chained to the floor, but the Kraven felt no pity for the frail creature. He’d ordered Raine’s beating late the previous night, when his scouts had reported spotting Kellan Scott traveling through the Wasteland in his wolf form, heading straight toward the compound, no doubt acting on some half-baked plan to steal the Markers in their possession. The instant Westmore had heard the report, he’d come to Raine, knowing she would have seen the Lycan’s approach with her powers.

  Seen it…and kept the information to herself, which had earned her this latest little punishment.

  “I’m going to add the Watchman to my collection,” he murmured, wishing she would lift her face so that he could see her eyes. He was beginning to have an unhealthy obsession with that brilliant, unusual gaze of hers, and the knowledge made him frown.

  “You no longer need him as a hostage now that I’m helping you with the maps,” she whispered, her husky voice weak with hunger and pain. “So why take him?”

  “You know the Markers are only good to me if I have them all,” he replied. “I need the five that the Watchmen have in their possession.”

  A soft, brittle burst of laughter, and she shook her head, the metal cuffs circling her wrists scraping against the stone floor as she pulled her arms beneath her. “It’s all just a waste of time,” she told him, “because you’re not going to win.”

  His eyes narrowed with outrage, and he silently wondered just what it was going to take to break her spirit. “You can’t see the future,” he seethed. “Only the past.”

  A trembling groan as she pulled her legs to her side, and then she said, “I don’t need to be a seer to know what will happen in your war. Evil like you always makes a mistake sooner or later. Usually comes right around the time that your ego gets too big to control. The more you think you’re invincible, the harder the fall.”

  “Bold words for a young woman whose baby brother is my newest plaything.”

  She stiffened in reaction to the soft words, trying to raise her torso off the ground, but her bruised, bloodied arms were shaking too badly, and he laughed quietly under his breath. “Let me tell you about this one Casus who escaped from Meridian last year,” he murmured, enjoying her struggles. “His name’s Gregory, and he has this thing for fingers. Crazy as a loon, but the guy could give lessons on good, wholesome torture. You couldn’t imagine the things he’s done. Things that I could so easily do to the rest of your loved ones.”

  “I’ve seen Gregory.”

  The words were soft, barely a whisper, and he was certain he must have heard her wrong. “What did you say?”

  She took a deep, rattling breath, her voice a little stronger as she gritted her teeth and finally managed to push her body into a sitting position on the blood-covered floor. “I’ve seen Gregory. Seen you fail to capture him…and fail to kill him, as well.”

  A new edge of alertness sharpened Westmore’s gaze, his fingers curling around the bars of her cell. “When? Where? Can you see where he is now?”

  She lifted her chin, pinning him with her hate-filled glare. “Let my brother go,” she told him, “and I’ll tell you what I’ve seen.”

  Rage flooded his system, making him shake. “You think to negotiate with me, you little bitch?”

  “I call it making a deal. And trust me when I say that you don’t have any choice. Because I know what he has planned for you, and it isn’t pretty,” she whispered, the corner of her busted mouth curving the barest fraction as she gave him a cold, deadly smile. “If you don’t want to end up just another one of his victims, Westmore, you’ll give me what I want.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Wednesday evening

  ALTHOUGH THEY’D BEEN traveling through treacherous territory all day, they’d avoided running into any of the Carrington vampires, thanks to Ashe’s knowledge of the area. After carefully navigating their way through a steep, rocky ravine that bordered the lands claimed by the Carrington nest, they were finally nearing the place where they’d be taking shelter for the night, and Morgan was again grateful for the chance to get out of the cold.

  “Look down there,” Ashe murmured, nodding his dark head toward the east, where the silvery gleam of the moon illuminated a small structure in the valley below, nestled amid a bower of fir trees. The cabin was one of several that were used by the Förmyndares when they traveled into the Wasteland, but it was only by chance that they’d found themselves near enough to use it, the “pull” of Kellan’s blood that she was following thankfully leading them through this particular valley. “We should be there in another twenty minutes or so.”

  “Thank God,” Morgan groaned. “My feet feel like they’re going to fall off.”

  “And you need to eat,” Kierland murmured at her side, the rough note of concern in his deep voice making her smile. After the wild, melt-your-brain-down orgasms he’d given her the night before, they’d caught a few hours of sleep, wrapped around each other like some erotic work of art. When he’d woken her, his dark voice whispering in her ear that it was time for them to head out, Morgan had stiffened with nerves, worried about how he would treat her after the things that had happened during the night. All the words that had been growled and whispered and confessed. It was with a startling rush of pleasure that she realized he wasn’t going to take ten steps back and act like a belligerent prick. Instead, he’d been mellow, kind of quiet, lost in his thoughts, but…close. He’d stayed by her side, making sure she was okay, helping her when they ha
d to make their way through tricky passages or across narrow, rickety bridges.

  He’d even been less confrontational toward Ashe, who kept sliding her teasing, lopsided grins when Kierland wasn’t looking, the I-told-you-so look in the Deschanel’s brilliant gray eyes making her flush with color as she tried to warn him with her dark glares to cut it out.

  “If you guys can get a fire started when we reach the cabin,” she murmured, bracing her hand on one of Kierland’s hard shoulders as he helped her down the last boulder, the thicket of trees spreading out before them the final obstacle before they reached shelter, “I’ll heat up the cans of soup we brought. It’s not much, but at least it’ll be hot.”

  The Lycan flashed her a sexy grin, then moved behind her, taking up the rear as Ashe led the way down the narrow path that wound through the woods.

  Morgan’s mind wandered as they hiked deeper into the towering forest, shifting between worried thoughts for Kell and nervous misgivings about the state of her heart. She’d known that getting involved on a physical level with the gorgeous werewolf was going to seriously mess with her emotions, but she’d had no idea just how deeply she would be affected. Instead of it hurting when he walked away, it was going to rip a big aching hole out of the center of her chest. No way to avoid it. The damage was done. And yet, even knowing how it was going to end, she couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like the next time she got her hands on him.

  She’d tried to come up with a way to explain the mad intensity of her need and her crazy, out-of-control emotions, but she couldn’t. All she knew was that it went far beyond the surreal, mind-shattering ecstasy that he drenched her in, to something deeper…and infinitely more devastating. When he touched her body, he found his way to some sheltered, shadowed part inside of her that had been cold and dark and silent for years, but was now screaming at the top of its lungs, craving warmth and light and noise.

  “Does it seem a little too quiet all of a sudden?” Ashe murmured, his low voice pulling her out of her internal thoughts as he came to a stop on the path before her, his dark head turning slowly as he stared into the murky depths of the forest.

  Slick, icy fear shuddered through Morgan’s veins, and she shivered, her lips trembling. “I have a bad feeling,” she whispered, the uneasy sensation of being watched prickling at the back of her neck.

  They each dropped the heavy packs they were carrying on the ground, and Kierland moved closer to her side, sliding a sharp look toward Ashe, who was lifting his nose to the air. “You scent anything?”

  The Deschanel shook his head, his handsome face pulled into grim lines of frustration as he looked at them over his shoulder. “But I gotta admit, I’m suddenly getting that bad vibe, as well.”

  “There’s something here,” Morgan murmured. “Something close.”

  Before Kierland was able to respond, the forest exploded with movement. It was like something out of a movie, the perfect choreography of bodies soaring through the air, dropping from the upper branches of the trees to trap them on the path, dozens of pairs of silver eyes glowing with predatory fire in the moonlit shadows of the forest.

  Kierland cursed something harsh and gritty, shoving her against a tree and planting his big, muscled body in front of her as they found themselves facing a feral nest of redheaded Deschanel vampires. Their lethal fangs were already fully distended, as well as their razor-tipped talons. And in the center of the group was Micah Sabin, his tall body still clothed in the same ragged, bloodstained clothes he’d been wearing the day before, a fresh bruise darkening one cheek, his chin and throat sporting streaks of dried, midnight-colored blood.

  “Micah?” she gasped, peering around Kierland’s broad shoulder. “How did you get free? Where’s Juliana?”

  “Juliana is probably back at our compound, wringing her hands like a good little girl, worried about what I’m going to do to her new friends,” he sneered, the look of madness in his eyes even more pronounced than it’d been the last time they’d seen him.

  “They just let you go?” Ashe asked him, keeping a careful eye on the surrounding vampires as he moved closer to her and Kierland.

  The corner of Micah’s mouth curled with a snide smile. “They didn’t have much choice, considering I managed to get my talons around the throat of one of my cousins. She was a sweet little thing,” he rasped, his chest heaving with the force of his breaths. “Poor Jules couldn’t stand the thought of her getting hurt.”

  Bile rose in her throat, and Morgan had to cough before she could ask, “And where is the girl now, Micah? Is she okay?”

  He flinched, his eyes tightening for a fraction of a second, and he shook his head as if to shake free of an unwanted memory. “I don’t know where she is,” he answered in a thick, broken voice, then shook his head again, that wild look of feral aggression washing over him once more. “It…it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I found you. Been looking for you all bloody night and day.”

  “And who are your friends?” Kierland prompted, his voice deceptively soft as he slowly drew his gun from behind his back, while Morgan and Ashe did the same.

  Micah sent Ashe a hard smile. “They’re Carringtons. I knew, from what you told Juliana, that you were heading for the new Kraven compound. When I escaped, I made my way to the Carringtons and offered them a deal, since they’re always desperate to get their hands on fresh meat. Told them that I’d share the meal, if they’d help me catch you.”

  “And now what?” Ashe growled, sounding every bit the deadly warrior that she knew he could be.

  Jerking his chin toward Kierland, Micah said, “They get the two of you, and I get the woman.”

  “We won’t let you have her,” Kierland stated in a calm voice, but Morgan could hear the undercurrent of rage that roughened the edges of his words.

  The vampire started to say something in response, then flinched, his brow pulling tight, as if with pain, the poison polluting his bloodstream no doubt ravaging his sanity, as well as his body.

  “Micah,” she murmured, keeping her voice soft…gentle, “you don’t have to do this.”

  “You’re wrong.” His chest jerked with the heaviness of his ragged breathing, his skin clammy and pale. “I have to. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. You…you smell too good. I…can’t stop thinking about it. Your blood. Your body.”

  “You can’t have her,” Kierland repeated, the low words carefully drawn out, as if he was speaking to a confused child. “I understand how you feel, but you can’t have her, Sabin. She’s mine.”

  “Not for long,” Micah rasped, and as he signaled with his hand, the Carrington vampires attacked.

  “Don’t let them bite you!” Ashe shouted, firing off shots as the poisonous vamps rushed toward them. “Remember, they’re contagious!”

  Though they were each unloading a steady stream of bullets, there were too many wild-eyed, bloodthirsty monsters charging them. Both men were forced to engage in hand-to-hand combat, doing everything they could to keep Morgan protected behind them. When one of the poisonous bastards snapped at Ashe’s arm, barely missing his powerful forearm, the handsome Deschanel went ballistic, his gun slipped back into the waistband of his jeans as he released his talons and began to rip out throats with deadly accuracy. It was a gruesome, blood-spattered scene, but Morgan didn’t have time to be squeamish. Kierland had his hands full fighting off Micah and the rest of the Carringtons, and Morgan forced herself to stay calm as she aimed her Glock and took shot after shot, doing her best to help.

  But it wasn’t easy.

  The feral, poisonous vampires reminded her too much of the ones who’d killed Nicole all those years ago, and she could feel the icy twinges of panic struggling to take hold of her. Fear swamped her system, perspiration dotting her upper lip, trailing down the side of her face, her lungs constricting. Catching sight of her panicked expression, Kierland started toward her, and Micah and the rest of the Carringtons took immediate advantage of the situation. With hi
s back exposed to his enemies, they sprang at the distracted Lycan and mobbed him. Morgan screamed with rage as the group dragged Kierland away and disappeared into the darkness of the forest. She shouted for Ashe, but he was too busy fighting off his own attackers.

  Gotta do this myself. Can’t lose him. Would rather die than lose him.

  With a deep breath, Morgan gripped her gun in both hands and set off running, thanking God every second of the way that she’d taken Kierland’s blood, since she was able to follow the “pull” that led her toward him. They were dragging him deeper and deeper into the dense woods, the thickening darkness making it nearly impossible to see where she was going. Something snarled at her, rushing her from her left and she lifted the gun, firing her last bullet with a shot that nailed the vampire right between his silver eyes. He went down. And stayed down. Morgan knew the shot wouldn’t kill him, but it was going to take him a hell of a long time to heal, and she hoped his ass was a frozen block of ice before he regained consciousness.

  Ignoring the trembling fear scraping down every nerve ending in her body, she chained her infuriating panic into submission and kept moving, stumbling again and again as she followed the “pull” that led her toward Kierland. It was stronger than any other she’d ever felt, and it wasn’t just centered in her chest. She could feel it burning in every cell of her body, her entire being focused on following him…finding him.

  With a stifled curse on her lips, she pushed through a thicket of something sharp and thorny, and had to choke back a cry at what she found on the other side. Kierland stood in the center of a small clearing, arguing with Micah, while the Carringtons surrounded him, and she was out of freaking bullets! She had only one weapon left—the tiny glass vial, or “sparkler,” that Gideon had left for Kierland in his apartment. Morgan had remembered to ask Ashe what it was for while they’d been hiking the day before, and he’d explained that it was a sort of bomb. Though not like any explosive she’d ever known. Specifically created to kill vampires, a “sparkler” created a blast of magic designed to annihilate any Deschanel within a twenty-foot radius. Gideon had obviously thought it was the perfect weapon to give them, considering they had been headed for the Wasteland.