Edge of Desire

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “Yeah, well, I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night,” he grunted under his breath, looking away, while dread began to curl its way through his insides, sickening and cold.

  He’d just started to turn away, figuring it was better just to get the hell out of there, before he said anything else that was going to raise her suspicions, when her next words stopped him in his tracks. “I saw what happened.”

  Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he braced himself as he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see the fight, Hope. But that asshole started it.”

  She shook her head, blinking from the rain that was pattering against her face. “I don’t mean the fighting, Riley. I mean…what happened while you were fighting him. Just before you knocked him out. I saw your hands. Your…teeth.”

  Doing his best to keep his voice low and even, he said, “It’s storming like crazy out here, Hope. I doubt you were able to see much of anything.”

  “I think you’d be surprised,” she argued, and he knew she wasn’t going to just let it go. Wasn’t going to let him blow it off as a trick of the lightning…the torrential weather.

  Hoping like hell that he could make her understand, Riley closed the distance between them, lifting one hand from his pocket with the intention of pushing her hair back from her face. But as he approached her, she took a quick step back, scrambling away from him. He flinched, as if she’d slapped him, and his hand fell, hanging loosely at his side.

  Her chest was rising and falling with the force of her breathing, her mouth opening and closing twice before she finally managed to say, “I think I should go inside now.”

  Riley stared, while an angry rush of words that needed to be said got jammed up in his throat. Not that she gave him the chance to say anything. She simply looked into his eyes one last time, searching, seeking, then turned around and quickly made her back inside the house, shutting the door behind her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HUNCHED WITHIN a thick hooded jacket, Gregory DeKreznick made his way along the wooded outskirts of town, thinking over the scene he’d just witnessed from the cover of the woods, the rain masking his scent so that he could watch undetected. He didn’t like the idea of anyone screwing with the Merrick’s woman—unless that someone was him. The only reason she was still breathing was because he’d decided to wait for the perfect moment before having his fun with her. And until that time came, he was getting a kick out of messing with Buchanan’s mind. He knew it had to be wearing ol’ Riley down, waiting for Gregory to make his play for the tempting little brunette. Knew the gnawing worry had to be eating the guy raw inside, and he actually grinned a little at the thought.

  Slipping through the rainy night, he made sure he wasn’t being followed, same as he’d been doing since leaving Westmore’s headquarters back in Colorado several weeks ago. He didn’t want Westmore’s goons following after him, doing their best to cover his kills. Where was the fun in that? No, he wanted the bodies found. Wanted Buchanan to know that he was close…and waiting. Wanted to enjoy watching him sweat, wondering when Gregory would strike out against the ones he cared about…the ones who meant something to him.

  And while he hungered for Buchanan’s blood, he was feeling better than he had in a long while. The college girl on Saturday had been sweeter than he’d expected, fighting him to the bitter, bloody end. He was still riding high on the memory of that perfect moment when he’d finally given her a taste of what she was in for. When he’d allowed his fangs to slip free, and buried them deep in one of her pale, quivering breasts. Her terrified, pain-filled scream had startled the birds from the trees, leaving the forest around them silent and still, so that he could hear her every whimper…every breathless sob as he set about showing her just how foolish she’d been to wander off with a stranger.

  Smiling at the recollection, Gregory was just about to head out of the woods, walking into the parking lot of a local bar, when a tall, bald behemoth stepped into his path, the man’s ice-blue eyes telling him that he faced another Casus. Though the human host was a stranger to Gregory, it took him only a moment or two to discern the guy’s true identity, same as he’d done with Pasha.

  “Miles,” he purred, unable to recall the bastard’s last name, but then they’d never been on speaking terms. Miles was one of those sanctimonious assholes who perpetually kissed Calder’s sainted backside, which meant that Gregory had always avoided him like the plague. “I should have known you’d be coming along sooner or later. Did Calder send you here to keep an eye on us? Make sure we’re all being good little soldiers?”

  Shaking his head, the Casus said, “I’m here to offer some advice, Gregory. If you’re smart, you’ll take it.”

  “Let me guess,” he drawled, rocking back on his heels as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Calder wants me to be a good boy and stop messing with his precious little plans. Am I right? Is that what you were sent here to tell me?”

  “The time for warnings is over,” Miles grunted. “You were already told to follow the rules. Since you refuse to obey your orders, they’ve made you public enemy number one. They’re waging war against you, Gregory. Giving orders to kill you. You need to report in to Westmore and make amends. If we’re going to win this war, we need to stand together. We can’t afford to lose you.”

  “Actually,” he murmured, “I like standing on my own. Never was any good at playing with others.”

  “If you don’t abide by the rules and help Calder acquire the Markers,” Miles argued, “there will be consequences.”

  He lifted his shoulders with an indolent shrug. “I have nothing, so there’s nothing they can take away from me.”

  Miles’s icy gaze narrowed. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

  “And just what is that supposed to mean?” Gregory rasped, not liking the insinuation behind the Casus’s quiet words.

  “Just think about what I’ve told you,” Miles murmured. “They’re not happy with you, Gregory. Not at all.”

  “Aw, now you’re just breaking my heart.”

  He expected the man to keep arguing, but Miles just shook his head again and headed back into the shadowed forest. Gregory stood for a moment in the silvery threads of moonlight, thinking over what the Casus had said, then shook off his uneasiness with a muttered growl. So what if Calder and Westmore were gunning for him? They didn’t scare him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to head back, kissing up, promising to be their golden boy just so that he could get back in their good graces. Screw that. He worked for no one but himself.

  As he made his way through the town, he thought for a minute of calling Pasha, then brushed off the idea. They’d made their deal. If she decided to screw him over, he would see to it that she paid for the mistake. And for the moment, she had her uses. She was doing a stellar job at staying close to the shifter, but then she always had done some of her best work on her back. The Watchman had no clue he was playing bedroom Olympics with the enemy, and by the time he realized his mistake, it would be too late. She would keep her pulse on the Marker situation through the Watchman, and once it’d been found, she would put her plan into action. The shifter would be taken into their possession, then used to draw out the others. Knowing Pasha, she’d probably carve off pieces of him, one by one, tossing them out like bait, until the others came running. And once they did, she and Gregory would finally have what they wanted. Which was all three Buchanans in one place, at one time. Pasha would get the sheriff, and Gregory would not only get the pleasure of stripping the skin from that eldest son of a bitch who’d killed his brother, but also of the little sister. He’d do Ian quick, satisfying the bloodlust, and then play it slow with Saige, using her to quench his other, more interesting desires.

  It was perfect, but for the Miles issue. After so many hellish years in Meridian, Gregory had grown comfortable with hatred and rage. They had become his constant companions, along with the relentless, gnawing ache for escape and revenge. Now that he was fr
ee, he was enjoying the human banquet of opportunity that surrounded him. But tonight, he needed something with meaning…and he knew just who to use. The human was a cocky bastard, which always made it more satisfying. With a soft smile on his lips, Gregory made his way to the motel he’d heard the shifter mention after the fight. A hundred-dollar bill at the front desk bought him the information he needed, as well as the assurance of privacy.

  His smile broadened when he saw that the room faced toward the forest, which would make for an easy escape. Raising his hand, he knocked against the pale green wood.

  “What do you want?” Capshaw sneered as he jerked open the door, a hand towel pressed beneath his bloodied nose.

  “You,” Gregory drawled, his fist slashing forward and connecting with the center of the man’s chest. The violent blow shoved the human halfway across the room. Walking inside, Gregory locked the door behind him.

  Capshaw scrambled to his feet and tried to fight back, but Gregory was too strong…too powerful. The first bite is always the sweetest, he thought, sinking his fangs into the human’s shoulder and coming away with a warm, bloodied chunk of meat. The sound that came out of Capshaw was like something from a terrorized child, and he was forced to slice his claws across the human’s throat—just enough to keep him from screaming…but not enough to kill. Not while he was still having so much fun.

  As Capshaw tried to crawl away, Gregory tilted back his head, spread his arms wide and allowed the rest of the change to flow over him. His shredded clothes fell to the floor, and then he dropped to all fours, a low, graveled laugh surging up from his monstrous chest as he stalked toward his prey. “And now,” he drawled, the graveled words distorted by the muzzled shape of his mouth, “it’s time to let the games begin.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Tuesday evening

  AS THE SUN FINALLY bled into the horizon, the sky bloomed with one last violent burst of color, streams of deep ochre and crimson cutting into the heavens like a patchwork of painful wounds, while the clouds bled an endless stream of rain-colored tears. The ominous, dramatic imagery fit Riley’s mood to perfection, considering they’d just endured another day of foul-weathered searching that had turned up nothing. Saige had been all apologies when she’d called that afternoon, upset that she hadn’t been able to pinpoint the Marker’s exact location. None of them wanted to consider the possibility that the cross might have already been found. Might already be in the hands of the enemy.

  They’d searched for as long as they could, until the weather had eventually halted their efforts. Kellan had already headed into town, despite Riley’s arguments, claiming that he was too frustrated to pace the cabin with him, leaving Riley to brood alone.

  Though they’d visited the café for breakfast and lunch, Riley hadn’t seen Hope the entire day. He and Kellan had talked with Millie, who assured them that Neal Capshaw hadn’t called or tried to put in another appearance, and Riley had already made a few calls, getting in touch with the bastard’s parole officer. If Capshaw had any sense, he’d hightail his ass back to North Carolina and stay there, never setting foot in Purity again.

  Millie had also claimed that Hope was working in the back office for the day, buried in paperwork, but Riley knew when he was being avoided—not that he blamed her. She was only doing what was smart. What was sane. She’d wanted to use him for pleasure—to finally scratch the itch that had been burning beneath both their skins for far too many years. She wasn’t looking to get pulled into the middle of his nightmare. Not for the simple sake of lust…for pleasure. And certainly not with someone who was more monster than man. Things might have worked out for his brother and sister, but Riley knew he couldn’t expect Hope to embrace what he was, what he was becoming, for the simple fact that she was not in love with him.

  If he had half a brain, he’d be relieved that she now knew better than to get anywhere near him. She’d keep her distance, which would hopefully keep her safe…as well as make things infinitely more simple for the duration of his stay. He could find the Marker, get the hell out of town and take the Casus with him. Find some remote place to stand his ground, and that would be that.

  And yet he couldn’t deny the rush of emotion that swept through his body when he drew in a deep breath and caught her scent blowing in through the screen door. The blinding, burning spill of relief that came just from having her near. It felt so right, when everything else had gone so impossibly wrong.

  Riley watched the door, waiting for her to come into sight, her warm, mouthwatering scent filling his head…his senses. Filling the places that had been hungry and empty and wanting for the past thirteen miserable years of his life. And while he couldn’t deny how good it felt to see her, he dreaded what he knew was coming. What she’d come there for. Dreaded having to tell her the truth about his family and the Merrick and the Casus, knowing damn well it was going to send her running.

  And maybe that wasn’t all bad. Maybe it would be the thing that finally got her out of town, away from Purity, so that he could stop living in fear of her being hurt because of him.

  She came up the porch steps and peered through the screen, opening it and stepping inside the instant she spotted him leaning his shoulders against the stone-faced fireplace. Her long, windblown hair was damp from the rain—her face dewy and freshly scrubbed, without any makeup to detract from the purity of her natural beauty. She wore a long, loose gray sweater that hung off one shoulder, along with jeans and her boots. Small silver hoops shone in her ears; her only other jewelry a silver ring that she wore on her right thumb.

  “You know why I’m here,” she said in a low voice, crossing her arms beneath her breasts as she stared straight at him with those beautiful, topaz-colored eyes, their thick lashes casting shadows against the luminous curve of her cheeks.

  “After last night, I’m surprised you aren’t afraid to come here alone,” he drawled, and there was no mistaking the bitterness that flavored his words.

  She winced, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she moved farther into the spacious room, taking a seat on the foot of his bed. Rubbing her palms against her thighs, she pulled her lower lip through her teeth, then quietly said, “I’m sorry I reacted the way that I did last night, Riley. It was just too much, on top of everything else.” Pressing one hand against her chest, she said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…I didn’t have any room inside to process it.”

  “And what changed?” he grunted, making sure the hem of his T-shirt was covering his fly. It was hardly the time for a hard-on, considering his mood—not to mention the circumstances—but Hope was sitting on his bed, looking so beautiful and tender and soft, there wasn’t any goddamn way he could stop it from happening.

  “What changed is that I finally calmed down,” she said in response to his question. “To be honest, I’ve spent most of the day trying to find the courage to face you, Riley. Not because of what I saw. I know it doesn’t make any sense. I mean, you’d think I’d be terrified, right? But…” Her voice trailed off with a nervous flutter of laughter, and she lowered her gaze as she lifted her shoulders in a baffled, what-the-hell-is-happening kind of gesture. The laughter faded, and she drew in a deep, trembling breath, staring at her hands as they fisted into tight little knots on the tops of her thighs. “I don’t know. The hardest thing is facing you, after what happened with Neal. It’s so embarrassing. All of it. The fact that I married such a horrible person.” With another deep breath, she lifted her gaze, trapping him with its honesty…its strength. “I found the courage to come here, and now I’m hoping you can find the courage to tell me the truth. Because I think I deserve it, Riley. After everything that’s happened. I think I have a right to know what you’re hiding.”

  Guilt crept up around the backs of his ears, and he tore his gaze away, staring out the window at the darkening forest, his heart beginning to beat with a hard, heavy rhythm as he watched the fog begin to twine itself around the trunks of the trees. His throat felt tight…his face hot. �
��It’s ugly, Hope.” His voice was low…gritty, like something that’d been crushed and ground into gravel.

  “And my past isn’t?” she asked, giving a hard, brittle laugh.

  “This isn’t just my past,” he grunted, scraping one hand back through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “It’s my future.”

  She absorbed that for a moment, then simply said, “No more lies, Riley. Just tell me what’s going on.”

  Worried about what he might accidentally “move” with his newfound power, he shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way to the window, giving her his back. “You’re better off not knowing, Hope. You have no idea how badly I wish I didn’t know.”

  “What?” she asked. “How bad can it be? Are you a vampire? A werewolf? Do you turn into some kind of giant green hulk?”

  Despite his frustration, a ragged laugh tore from his throat at the image her words created. “No, honey. I don’t go green.” He blew out a rough breath, shaking his head as he forced himself just to get it out. There was no way to sugarcoat it…to make it pretty. The truth was more often than not an ugly, raw slice of reality, and he was about to dish her out an entire plateful. “But Kellan, yeah,” he admitted in a low, shaky voice. “He’s a…werewolf. I know how freaking insane that sounds, but it’s true. Kell’s brother, too. Though I think they prefer being called lycans.”

  He tensed, waiting for her reaction, anticipating anything from laughter to hysterics to anger, but a heavy, thoughtful silence was all that met his hoarse confession. Looking over his shoulder, he could only shake his head at how composed she looked, sitting there on the bed with her hands folded in her lap, the curious, trusting expression in her eyes saying that she was waiting for him to go on. God only knew she hadn’t reacted the way most people would, but then he’d already known that Hope was unique. Special. She’d always looked at the world a little differently than everyone else, so maybe that would be his saving grace in getting her to understand the dark, sometimes terrifying, extraordinary world he’d become a part of.