Rhyannon Byrd - Edge of Danger

“And face Calder’s wrath?” Gregory mocked, clucking his tongue.

Royce’s words shook with his anger. “After the screwup Malcolm made of his assignment, don’t think for one second that Calder gives a shit about what happens to you.”

Gregory laughed. “And you think Calder cares any more about you, Royce? The truth is that he doesn’t give a shit about either one of us.”

Shifting back on his haunches, Royce released his hold on Gregory’s arms, eyeing him with a cold, hard stare. “He’s a good leader,” he ground out.

“Just not a very trusting one.” Gregory snorted, hoisting himself up onto his elbows. “Has he told you how he learned to send us across? Hell, he hasn’t even told you how many Markers we’re after, or exactly why we need them.”

Royce moved to his feet in a fluid ripple of powerful muscle, allowing his true form to gracefully slip away, easing back into the shape of his human host. “He has his reasons,” he muttered.

“Sure he does,” Gregory drawled, rolling his eyes. “And at any rate, tonight wasn’t my fault. This was the best chance we’ve had to grab her since she found the Marker. Would you have rather I just let her slip on by?”

“We were only going to grab her if we ran the risk of losing her. Otherwise, we were told to wait until she’s fully awakened.”

“And the Marker?”

“The Marker we could have stolen from her,” Royce growled, his lip curled with disgust. “But now, because of your little stunt, she knows we’re after her, which means she’s going to be guarding it as well as she can.”

“She already knew,” Gregory countered, his brows arched as he stared up from his place on the warm, damp ground. “Why else do you think she’s always looking over her goddamn shoulder? She knows we’re watching her.”

Royce’s mouth tightened, the muscles across his chest flexing with each of his hard, heavy breaths. “Knowing and suspecting are two different things. That Watchman bastard isn’t going to let her out of his sight now. And if he flew, chances are that he’s a bloody Raptor.” Royce glared down at him, his lip curled in an arrogant expression that made Gregory want to tear into him, as slowly and painfully as possible. “So now, thanks to you, we’ve lost her and the Marker.”

“Not exactly,” he offered in a soft rumble of words as he moved to his feet.

Royce paused in the act of turning away, his brow drawn in a deep frown. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that I don’t think she has it. At least not on her.”

At his sides, Royce’s big fists clenched tighter, the veins sticking out in sharp relief beneath the golden sheen of his skin. “What are you talking about?”

“I was able to cut her tonight,” he explained, rolling his shoulder, “which means she wasn’t wearing it.”

“Then she must have hidden it,” Royce murmured, raking one hand back through the thick, chocolate strands of his hair. Despite the fact that their human hosts—American brothers who had owned a tourist fishing boat in Rio—were almost identical in appearance, Friesen’s hair was not only shorter, but several shades darker.

“If she did,” Gregory drawled, “then she’s an idiot for not keeping hold of the only thing that can protect her.” Calder had told them that they would be unable to kill her so long as she wore one of the ancient Markers, the power of the crosses protecting her from their fangs and claws.

“Either that, or she’s very clever. Somehow she must have figured out that we’re after the Markers, as well. I told you before, you’re underestimating her.”

“Am I?” Gregory asked with a laugh as he scraped a palm over his rough jaw. “She ran tonight, just like a pathetic woman.”

Royce sent him an impatient look. “And since you said yourself she was running away from the Watchman, I think we can safely assume that had nothing to do with you at that point.”

“You’re giving her too much credit,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I keep telling you that she’s nothing more than food.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think of her, Gregory, because she’s my food. As soon as you know where your Merrick is, do as you like—but until then, stay away from mine.”

Gregory held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Come on, man. There’s no need to be so suspicious. I was going to bring her to you,” he murmured, enjoying the potent force of Friesen’s frustration as it blasted against him like a hot wind.

Royce jerked his chin and snorted. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“Still don’t trust me?” he asked lightly, wearing a ghost of a smile.

A bitter laugh fell from Royce’s lips. “Try ‘will never trust you.’”

“And yet,” Gregory said softly, his gaze hard and steady, “you need me.”

“I need that Marker…and then I need the woman. You, I have no use for.”

“Hmm, well, I suppose I would be lying if I didn’t say that the feeling is mutual,” he offered with a low, throaty chuckle. “And, like you said, I have my own waiting for me, so you can have her flesh.” It was a lie, but as much as he enjoyed taunting his comrade, he knew better than to push too far. Not yet, when they now had a Watchman to contend with.

And Gregory knew how touchy Royce was about the little Merrick bitch’s life.

According to legend, each time a Casus shade escaped from Meridian, one Merrick would awaken, in keeping with nature’s need for balance. In an effort to promote order among the newly escaped Casus, it’d been decided that since only a fully awakened Merrick could provide their kind with the “ultimate” feeding, each escaped Casus would be allowed exclusive rights to the Merrick their return to this realm had caused to awaken. It was an important rule, as only a Merrick could provide the power charge needed for the Casus to “pull” another one of his kind back from Meridian, bringing them across the divide. Seeing as how the desire to build their numbers so that they might rule as they once did was the driving force that motivated so many of his kinsmen, the awakened Merrick were going to become a hot commodity.

Gregory, however, couldn’t have cared less about his species’ power base.

The only power that concerned him was his own, and for that reason alone, he planned to eventually find his Merrick and kill it. But first, he’d deal with the Buchanans.

“Until you can focus,” Royce drawled, “you know damn well that you’re never going to find your own Merrick.”

“Oh, I’ll find mine,” he murmured, scratching lazily at his blood-spattered chest. He knew the full extent of Royce’s anger from the simple fact that the uptight bastard had failed to notice he was covered in blood. “But for now, our problem is Saige Buchanan. You can’t blame me for tonight. If you had been there, you wouldn’t have been able to resist any more than I did.”

“I’ve resisted so far, haven’t I?” Royce said over his shoulder as he headed toward the cabin. Though the moonlight somewhat softened its defects, it still seemed a marvel that the structure remained standing, its sad-looking roof sloping on the right side, as if it would eventually just slide its way into the dark, murky waters of the river.

“At least I didn’t come home empty-handed,” Gregory commented with casual indifference, following after him.

“Do I even want to know?” Royce asked with a hard sigh as he opened the front door.

Stepping inside the ramshackle structure, Gregory headed toward the lone sink and began running water in its stained basin. His reflection stared back at him in the dingy panes of the window before him, providing a hazy view of the moon and the wine-dark water that snaked its way through the jungle like a serpent. “I paid a visit to her little helper on my way back here.”