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 to 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
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 to 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
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