Edge of Desire

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Not that he slept with women indiscriminately, or ones he didn’t like. He just chose partners who were safe. Who could match his sexual appetites, and enjoy sex for what it was, without involving complicated emotions in the mix. Simple, clear-cut, mutual exchanges of pleasure. That was all he’d ever had—all he’d ever been able to find.

  Until now. Already, the cutting edge of desire that Hope brought him to was screwing with his head. They didn’t have an emotional attachment. The rational part of his mind knew that. Accepted it. But he also knew that sex with her would be unlike anything he’d ever known, pushing him to levels of need that he’d never come close to experiencing. He’d always suspected that would be the case, but the reality of facing her again after all these years was so much more than he’d been prepared for.

  His fictional idea of the person she would become had been based on the girl he’d known, but the woman standing before him now was a stranger. She was all grown up, the product of years that had had nothing to do with him. Unknown experiences that had shaped her personality, like powerful forces of nature upon the planet. Rushing waters that cut through the ground, digging deep, shifting and shaping and molding the earth into something new. It should have made it easier, but instead, he found that the “real” Hope was so much more fascinating than his imagined one. Throwing pies at him. Losing her temper. Hammering questions at him that afternoon with an intensity that would have put even the most seasoned investigator to shame. Facing him barefoot in the moonlight, with the wind whipping through her long hair, unwilling to back down or to let him intimidate her. She was fire and heat and passion, and he just wanted to pull her around him like something warm and soft, until she could melt the cold burn of fear sitting in his gut like a leaden weight. Fear of the darkness inside him. Of the danger closing in around them. Of what he was becoming…changing into.

  Despite knowing that the Merrick were the good guys in a fight against one of the most deadly evils the world had ever known, Riley couldn’t let go of the bitterness he’d felt for so long. He couldn’t embrace the family legacy breathing down his neck like Saige had always done, largely because of what it had cost him. His mother, Elaina, obsessed to the point of mental instability. His brother, Ian, who had finally left home to get away from her. His sister, simply because he hadn’t been able to deal with Saige’s own ardent devotion to the search for answers about their family bloodline. And then Hope, who had been the crushing blow, nearly doing him in, so violent he was still reeling from its force thirteen years later.

  He’d been too shocked for most of the day to really process it—this colossal screwup of fate. But now it was sinking in, soaking into him, and with it came a sharp, piercing rage.

  He wanted to know what kind of jackass was looking down on him, pulling the strings, as if some cosmic prankster had taken over the heavens, tossing the dice with his life. And with Hope’s.

  He’d been putting it off all evening, knowing he needed to have this talk with her, but dreading it all the same. Just being near her threatened his ability to keep himself together. Another chink in his emotional armor. A constant struggle that he knew, instinctively, was going to grow worse with each passing day.

  He’d tried to think, to put together a plan, while he and Kellan had spent the afternoon getting the layout of the town. There was no doubt that the Casus wouldn’t be far behind them, if they weren’t already there. The best plan was to stay at the cabin, and find the damn Marker as quickly as possible. Then get the hell out of Purity, taking his troubles with him. If he could keep his distance from Hope, then maybe she’d go under their radar. He’d warned her about the danger, but hadn’t gone into specifics. God willing, he’d be able to spare her the details. He didn’t want her looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life, living in fear. There was still promise for Hope. Happiness. That rose-colored dream. He didn’t want to shatter it with death and monsters and terror. Didn’t want her jumping at every sound she heard in the night.

  And yet he knew she wasn’t taking him as seriously as she needed to.

  It was both a blessing and a curse that she and Millie actually lived in a section of the house that was blocked off from the café. Having her so close would undoubtedly make watching out for her easier. But it also meant she was more accessible, which presented an entirely different sort of danger in itself. The thought made him want to turn around and haul his ass out of there, but concern for Hope, as well as guilt, kept his feet rooted in place. He couldn’t leave her alone with the Marker buried there on her land. And he couldn’t go back to Colorado and dump all this on his family. He still felt bad over the way he’d treated Saige when she’d tried to warn him at their mother’s funeral that she feared the awakenings were coming. About the way he’d kept quiet when Ian’s world had started going to shit, stupidly trying to convince himself that his worst nightmare wasn’t coming to life. He’d been wrong, and Ian had damn near paid the price for Riley’s stubbornness.

  He’d made so many mistakes already, he couldn’t afford to make any more. Which meant he had to see this through to the end. Do what good he could for his family, while there was still time. He’d find the Marker, take out as many Casus as possible, then put the issue to rest, once and for all.

  He just had to keep Hope safe till it all played out. Then the danger would move on to wherever the next Marker was hidden, and he’d be out of her life. Forever.

  Doing his best to ignore the sickening feeling that came with that thought, he leaned his shoulders against the rough bark of the trunk behind him. Breaking the heavy silence that had settled between them like a thick, weighty presence, he finally said, “So.”

  He watched as her mouth twitched with the shadow of a grin. After a long, dramatic sigh, she said, “Uh-oh.”

  He quirked one brow. “What?”

  “It’s just that that ‘so’ is such a leading kind of word. Tips you off right away that something bad is coming. Something deeply personal. Like, so, how long have you been into ritual sacrifice? Or, so, why did you decide to become a raging lesbian?”

  The corner of his mouth curved, his own grin feeling foreign on his face, as if the muscles had almost forgotten how to do it. “Huh. So you’ve become a raging lesbian?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” she offered with a low laugh, shaking her head. “Though I sometimes think life would be infinitely more simple if I had.”

  This time he arched both his brows. “How so?”

  Rocking back on her bare heels, she said, “The female mind I at least understand.”

  “Men aren’t such a mystery,” he countered.

  Hope snorted, rolling her eyes. “So says one of the most complicated men I’ve ever known.” A moment of tangible silence settled back between them, the playful exchange fading as their gazes locked into one another. Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, she seemed to force herself to say, “At any rate, I know what you were going to ask and, no, I don’t want to talk about him.”

  There was something in her tone…in that haunted look in her eyes that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, while a visceral, deadly rage twisted through his insides. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” she said too quickly, and he ground his jaw, struggling to stay calm. Even though Riley knew her answer was a lie, he bought it. He didn’t have any other choice. It was either swallow the sugarcoated pill she was shoveling at him, or risk releasing that part of himself that he always struggled to contain.

  But inside, under those layers of emotional concrete, he was roaring, ready for blood. To take the bastard apart with his bare hands and make him suffer. He’d seen how much damage a man could do when he wanted, and he knew just how defenseless a woman could be when facing such a prick.

  “At least tell me why the asshole is in prison,” he growled, struggling to keep his breaths deep and even.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, staring into the thick, impenetrable depths of the forest. “If I
wanted you to know, I’d tell you. But I don’t even want to think about him, much less discuss him with you.”

  “Tell me anyway,” he growled, the words hard with impatience as he pushed away from the tree and took a step toward her.

  Her head snapped back around, the look in her eyes warning him not to come any closer. “Drop it, Riley. It’s ancient history. One I’ve done my best to forget.”

  He drew in another deep breath, studying her through his lashes. “I could just look into it, find out for myself.”

  Hope snorted again, rolling one shoulder in a whatever gesture, while inside she was recoiling, shrinking into herself, hating that he would eventually learn the whole sordid story and know just how stupid she’d been. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t already done it,” she snapped, turning away from him with every intention of heading back toward the house. Until he latched on to her arm, spinning her back around.

  “How do you know that I haven’t?” he asked, his voice a soft, husky rasp of sound, contrasting sharply against the hard cast of his features, his expression one of mounting frustration and rage.

  “I just know,” she whispered, practically hanging there in his hold, her neck craned back so that she could see his face. “I can tell by the look in your eyes.”

  He made a gruff, disbelieving sound under his breath, but it was the truth. He didn’t have that look, the one that said he didn’t know how to deal with it. Didn’t know what to say. People always got that same uneasy shadow in their eyes when they learned about what had happened to her, and she hated it.

  His expression tightened, as if he’d experienced something piercing and sharp, those dark eyes staring down at her, the moonlight giving them an odd glow as they struggled to break through and see inside her mind. He breathed out her name, the hand on her arm clenching, and something electric sparked between them. Something dangerous and wild. Something that made them both stiffen with awareness, just before he quietly said, “You need to go inside, Hope. Now.”

  Her lips shook, but she didn’t argue as he released his hold on her arm. And as she turned, making her way back toward the beautiful, gray-shingled house, she could feel him watching her, every step of the way.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sunday morning

  TAKING ANOTHER fortifying sip of her coffee, Hope leaned her shoulder against the wall of her bedroom as she watched Kellan Scott install a sleek, expensive-looking motion detector beside her window. Beneath a stormy, slate-gray sky, the frothy caps of the Pacific Ocean could be seen rolling in through the rain-splattered panes of glass, while a watery thread of pale sunlight filtered into the room. She didn’t want to think about how much the high-tech device would cost her, but made a mental note to ask Riley the next time she saw him, since Kellan had refused to give her a price. The charming, good-natured flirt had claimed the security devices were free of charge, considering he and Riley were the ones who’d brought the danger to her doorstep. And while he had a point, Hope refused to take anything on charity. Especially from a friend of Riley’s.

  After a fitful night’s sleep, she’d awakened early and gone down to do the daily baking, allowing Millie a chance to sleep in. Not long after opening, her two new tenants had come into the already bustling café, and every female head had turned. Not that Hope could blame them. The two newcomers to Purity were an impressive sight, as well as a formidable one, both over six foot and packed with solid muscle. After Kellan had teased her about whether or not she intended to throw another round of pies at Riley, they’d had breakfast, and afterward Riley had gone outside to make some calls on his cell phone. Grabbing the backpack he’d come in with, Kellan had then told her he was ready to install her extra security. She’d left Millie in charge, along with two of her best staff members, and taken Kellan into the residence part of their house through the connecting kitchen.

  They’d made some idle chitchat about the house and the café, but now, as Hope watched him work, she took advantage of the easy silence that had settled between them to collect her thoughts. There were questions she wanted to ask him about Riley, but she knew she had to get the wording just right. The last thing she wanted to do was sound too eager…or too desperate. But before she’d even managed to formulate the first one, Kellan beat her to the punch, the faintest trace of a British accent to his words as he said, “So what exactly happened between you and ol’ Riley anyway?”

  He was hunched down by the base of the window, his attention still focused on the sensor, his back to her, so that she couldn’t read his expression. But there was no mistaking the curious edge to his words, no doubt brought on by her embarrassing reaction to seeing Riley yesterday, after so many years of brooding over the way that he’d treated her.

  Though a part of her still believed that he’d deserved everything she’d literally thrown at him, Hope couldn’t help but feel mortified that so many people had witnessed her violent reaction. With the way that gossip ran wild in a small community, she had to assume that everyone in Purity had probably heard about the infamous “pie fiasco” by now.

  Coughing to clear her throat, she set down her coffee and responded to Kellan’s question with one of her own. “He, uh, didn’t tell you?”

  “Riley?” he snickered, fiddling with something that made the device make a low, buzzing sound for a few seconds. “Naw. That guy doesn’t tell me anything. But after yesterday, I have a feeling it’s gotta be one helluva story.”

  “I don’t normally do things like that,” she murmured, her cheeks burning with heat.

  He shot her a disarming grin over his shoulder. “The pies? They were a riot, but I was talking about Riley. About how he acted.”

  She blinked, not understanding. “What about him?”

  Turning back to his work, Kellan said, “The guy completely lost his cool when he saw you. In the time that I’ve known him, I’ve seen Ri in some pretty intense situations, and he’s never batted an eye. Never lost control, not even once. He always just pulls it all in, never letting anything out, and then he sees you and whap! The guy’s been shaking like a leaf ever since.”

  A shaky, girlish giggle escaped before she could choke it back, and she covered her mouth, wondering where the quiet, detached Hope had gone. The one she’d lived with for so long now. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but that’s not exactly the imagery I would use to describe Riley. He seems so…intense. Grim, even.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been a rough time for his family lately. Hell, for all of us.”

  “How so?” she asked, thankful that he’d eased into the subject on his own.

  He hesitated for a moment, as if deciding how best to respond. “It’s a long story,” he finally rasped, putting his tools back in the pack that sat on the floor beside him. “One that—”

  “You won’t be telling.” Riley’s gruff, husky voice suddenly cut in, making Hope jump, as if she’d just been caught doing something that she shouldn’t.

  “And that’s my cue to go,” Kellan murmured, flashing her another deep-grooved grin over his shoulder. “I still need to install some sensors in Millie’s room, but if you come over here, I’ll show you how they work. This one on the window will operate exactly the same as the one I installed on the back of your door.”

  Without looking at Riley—though she could feel the force of his presence filling the room, sharp and aggressive and insanely male—she moved to Kellan’s side and listened as he explained how to set the high-tech gadgetry when she went to sleep at night.

  “Wow, that’s impressive,” she said when he was done with the simple explanation.

  Kellan flashed her a killer smile. “I’m more than just a pretty face, eh?”

  “And not an immodest bone in your body,” she drawled, rolling her eyes.

  He stood up and tapped her on the nose. “Let’s leave my body out of it, sugar, or I’m going to get myself in trouble.”

  A soft laugh fell from her lips as Riley looked between the two of them, th
en slowly shook his head. Kellan grabbed his backpack, winked at her, then headed out into the hallway, turning toward Millie’s room as he left them alone. Riley kept his eyes on her face while taking a drink of his coffee, the white mug appearing fragile in his strong, sun-darkened hand, then tore his gaze away, looking around the room. His eyes darkened as they roamed the white wooden furniture and froth of antique white lace on her bed, the fierce intensity of his expression somehow intimate and personal, as if he were looking into secret parts of her heart. That was how it felt as he stood there in her private space, her chest painfully tight while he stared with a quiet absorption at the virginal-looking four-poster bed. Hope had never slept there with a man. In truth, she’d never been with any man but her worthless ex, and Neal had left such a bad taste in her mouth, she’d simply lacked the desire to seek out another sexual relationship. She’d thought Neal had probably killed that part of her, but that theory had been annihilated the instant Riley Buchanan had walked back into her life.

  And watching the devastatingly sexy sheriff stare at her bed only confirmed that fact, her body going deliciously warm at the thought of falling onto the snowy expanse of white lace with him, his hard, heavy weight pressing her into the thick feather comforter. Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she lifted her gaze, and found herself trapped. Not by a physical touch or restraints, but by deep, piercing blue that had always held the power to make her feel wild. Desperate. Out of control. She’d been too innocent to know how to act on those primal, carnal impulses when she’d known him before, but not anymore. If she were brave, she would have simply thrown herself at him. Tackled him onto that mountainous bounty of white linen and lace, his dark, muscular body in stark contrast against the virginal white, and have had her wicked way with him. Peel the T-shirt and open flannel from his broad shoulders, and run her hands over the hard, flat shelf of his chest…his stomach, soaking in the heat of his skin, the breathtaking power of heavy muscle and sinew.