Touch of Temptation Page 2

  The Casus were out to destroy the Merrick and unleash their sadistic hungers on the world, the Watchmen were determined to stop them, and they were all after some nifty little crosses called the Dark Markers. As the only known weapons that could kill a Casus’s soul and send it to hell, the Dark Markers were the hot ticket that everyone wanted a piece of. The Watchmen also suspected that the Markers could somehow be used to bring about “the flood”—a scenario in which the gates of Meridian would break open, allowing the monsters to escape. If they were right, it would explain why Westmore and the Casus were seeking the weapons as seriously as Kellan and his friends. But they didn’t know for sure…and although Raine’s powers were strong, she claimed that Westmore was one of her blind spots, which made it impossible for her to tell Kellan why the bastard wanted them. It also meant that she couldn’t tell him what Westmore had planned for their future.

  Kellan had already been at the compound since last Thursday. If he hadn’t figured a way out by the upcoming Friday, he was confident his brother would launch an attack on the compound to get him out. Kierland knew where he was, and according to Raine, his brother had made unlikely allies in the Wasteland who were ready to help them. But Friday was a long five days away, and Kellan wanted both Chloe and Raine out before then. Though Raine had managed to negotiate her little brother’s release, as well as a reprieve from her torture by threatening to withhold information that Westmore wanted, and Chloe had been deemed off-limits to Westmore’s men, he still worried about them being surrounded by such monsters.

  And when it came to Chloe, Kellan couldn’t discount the risk that he personally posed to her safety. The wolf might be a part of him, but when it came to the little witch, he didn’t trust it any more than he’d have trusted a wounded animal. It was in pain from the poison, seething with hunger for her, and like any wild animal, it cared for naught but its own wants and needs. Which was why he’d be staying the hell away from her once they’d escaped, leaving her under the protection of Kierland and the others.

  But first, he had to get her out, and if they ended up having to fight in order to escape, then he was going to need the little witch’s cooperation. They needed to talk, and one way or another, he was going to get her to acknowledge him.

  “Kellan, did you hear me?” Raine’s soft words were edged with a touch of impatience.

  “Yeah, I heard you,” he rasped, careful to keep his voice as quiet as possible. Although Kellan’s cell was situated between the two women, and the walls between each cell were made of solid sheets of metal—which meant that Raine couldn’t see into Chloe’s cell—he knew the psychic was monitoring Chloe for him with her powers. “Is she still out of it?”

  “The drugs they gave her to calm down were pretty potent. She’s still sleeping off the effects, but should be fairly clearheaded when she finally wakes up.”

  The thought of those drugs being injected into her system by Westmore and his quack physician made Kellan curse under his breath, his fingers digging into the iron bars with enough force that they could have snapped.

  Although Chloe’s mother had been a Mallory witch, her father, who’d died when she was young, had been a direct descendant of the Merrick clan. When Kellan had been taken captive three days ago, he’d learned that the primal Merrick blood within the witch was already awakening, desperate for its first feeding, its hunger weakening her more each day. Since keeping her healthy was part of Westmore’s plan—at least for the moment—he’d had his doctor try to improve her condition by “feeding” blood into her system through an IV. To keep her calm, they sedated her beforehand, which meant she’d been fairly out of it since Kellan’s arrival.

  And the thought of what they might be doing to her while she was so defenseless made him see red. Literally.

  “Are you sure they haven’t touched her?” he forced out through his gritted teeth. “Haven’t harmed her in any way?”

  “I’m sure. I’ve heard Westmore warn the others that she’s to be left alone. He gets furious if they even look at her the wrong way, because she’s meant to be Calder’s gift when he escapes Meridian.”

  Thanks to their prior confrontations with the Casus, Kellan and the other Watchmen knew that Calder was the name of the monster who’d taken charge of things in Meridian and was now working with Westmore to bring about the Casus’s escape.

  Raine added, “Calder was adamant that she’s not to be touched—or awakened with a real feeding—until he’s here to claim her.”

  In other words, until he was there to carry out her rape and murder.

  Wanna tear the bastard’s throat out, his wolf snarled, and Kellan nodded, this time in complete agreement with that feral part of him. The only godsend to this entire nightmare was that Calder apparently didn’t plan to escape from Meridian anytime soon, which meant that he didn’t pose any immediate danger to Chloe.

  Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about Kellan.

  “She’s scared of me,” he said to Raine, and even with his anger and exhaustion riding him hard, the regret in his tone was clear.

  “Why do you think that?”

  Kellan snorted. “You’ve heard what happens when I try to talk to her through the wall that separates our cells. I know she can hear me, but she won’t even respond.”

  “It’s nothing personal. She’s just…wary of all men, but not scared. She simply doesn’t trust her effect on them.”

  He paused in surprise, thinking over what Raine had said. He’d assumed that Chloe’s reticence had been simple fear because of what he was. A stranger. Not to mention a werewolf. And one who was looking every bit the predator after what he’d been through to get to her.

  But apparently he’d been wrong.

  Shaking his head, he asked, “Are you saying that she won’t talk to me because she’s afraid the Mallory curse is going to affect me?”

  “That’s exactly what she doesn’t want to happen. She already feels guilty enough that you risked your life to come here for her. The last thing she wants to do is start tampering with your emotions.”

  As a Mallory witch, Chloe possessed an unusual power that heightened the emotions of those around her to extreme levels. Though Kellan had heard of it before, Olivia had explained the Mallory curse to him in greater detail, describing how it had locked into the varying powers of the once-powerful Mallory witch clan and channeled them into the mother of all spells.

  “I didn’t come after her because of some bloody curse,” he muttered.

  “I know that and you know that. But Chloe…well, she doesn’t know what to believe.”

  He grunted in response, wrenching the door open another inch, the gap almost wide enough that he could squeeze through. But he had to be careful. In order for his plan to work, Kellan had to break out of his cell without actually damaging the door, leaving Westmore and his goons none the wiser.

  “How’s that door coming?”

  “They weren’t fooling around when they built these cells, but I’ve almost got it.”

  As far as Kellan could tell, Westmore’s team had taken what had originally been some kind of ancient fortress buried within the heart of the Wasteland and turned it into a nearly impenetrable compound. The location was meant to be top secret, but Kellan had managed to find it, thanks to a large amount of cash he’d unloaded on some unsavory Deschanel vampires who’d heard rumors of the compound’s location—and who had no liking for anyone coming into their territory. Kellan had expected the fortress to be hard to get into, which was why he’d allowed himself to be captured to begin with—but it meant the place was going to be just as hard to get out of.

  He’d been hoping to find some kind of weakness he could exploit once he was inside…and it seriously pissed him off that he hadn’t.

  Still, Kellan couldn’t complain that he’d been completely unlucky, considering they hadn’t killed him. Instead, they’d kept him alive, just as he’d suspected they would, believing he might prove useful when they decided to
go after the Dark Markers that the Watchmen had already found. Of course, the Casus had beaten the hell out of him for an entire twenty-four hours, wanting him to admit that he’d come there for the three Markers in their possession, and Kellan had finally given them a false confession. Then they’d thrown him into the same cellblock as Chloe, not realizing she was the true reason he was there.

  Kellan didn’t know if Westmore’s men had constructed the cellblock, or if it’d been part of the original structure, but he’d managed to use his claws to pick the lock on the door. And after that, all that’d been left to do was pull. Hard.

  “She’s starting to wake up,” Raine told him. “So as soon as you’re finished with that door, I’m going to put myself into a Transsi.”

  “What the hell’s that?”

  “It’s a kind of light trance state that psychics can go into when we need to rest, but don’t want to go fully into a sleep state. So you, uh, don’t have to worry about me overhearing anything.”

  “Overhearing what? I just want to talk to her, Raine. I’m not going to start grilling her for private information. And if you can ‘read’ her, it’s not like she’s got any secrets from you anyway, right?”

  “Think about it, Kellan. You need to be ready for what’s coming. Her Merrick awakening is in full swing now and she’s starving for fresh blood. Not to mention sex.”

  “And what does any of that have to do with me?” he demanded, every muscle in his body going rigid with tension.

  A short, heavy silence followed, until Raine snuffled a soft sound under her breath that sounded suspiciously like laughter. “I might not be able to see the future,” she murmured. “But something tells me the Merrick witch is going to take one look at you and see more than the guy who’s risked his life to save her. Whether she’s comfortable with the idea or not, Kell, she’s going to see you as the man who can give her exactly what she needs.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE INSTANT CHLOE MANAGED to crack open her gritty eyelids, she was met with the stunning sight of Kellan Scott standing outside the iron bars that covered the front of her cell.

  And while there was a part of her that was amazed she hadn’t immediately screamed from shock, the other parts were still too busy taking in his deliciously dark, dangerous good looks.

  Even with the fresh bruises healing on his face and upper body, as well as an evil-looking bite wound at the side of his throat, Chloe figured he had to be the best-looking male she’d ever set eyes on. She stared from her place on the cell’s spindly cot, her body shivering beneath a thin blanket, while he stared back from the other side of the bars, one wide shoulder propped against the heavy gray rods of metal. He wore nothing but a low-slung, bloodstained pair of jeans, his long feet and broad, kinda sweaty chest completely bare. With his thumbs casually hooked in his front pockets, she had the feeling he was trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible, and it almost made her smile.

  Nice try, Lycan. But it isn’t working.

  No, this was definitely no lamb. Chloe could all but feel the raw force of his masculinity blasting against her, and knew his wicked reputation—the one Raine had told her about when the psychic had “seen” him traveling across the Wasteland as he’d made his way to the compound—had been well deserved. The guy all but oozed an “I’m a drop-dead gorgeous badass” vibe with those rugged features, shadowed jaw and what was truly a mouthwatering bod. At least a couple of inches over six foot, he was ripped with hard, corded muscles that were perfectly formed beneath the dark sheen of his skin, the raised veins and long lines of sinew adding to what was an already-stunning physique.

  He was more than a little dangerous looking, but he was also sexy as hell.

  And the thick-lashed, blue-green eyes… God, they were just overkill.

  The drugs they’d given her still had her brain kinda fuzzy, but Chloe lifted up onto an elbow and struggled to form the words she wanted. “How…” She coughed, and tried again. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Just a few minutes. I kept quiet because I didn’t wanna startle you while you were waking up.” With a ghost of a smile, he added, “It’s taken you a good five minutes to get your eyes open.”

  “I don’t understand,” she muttered, her forehead scrunching in confusion. “I mean, how did you get out of your cell?”

  “I managed to shove the door open,” he replied, pushing a hand through the dark, silky strands of auburn hair that almost reached his shoulders, his bicep bulging as the masculine tuft under his arm was revealed.

  Chloe rubbed her eyes. “But…the counterweights on these doors are massive! Not to mention the fact that the doors are locked!”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he found her reaction kind of funny. “You know I’m not human, Chloe. I don’t think they ever planned to hold a Lycan when they built these cells. Either that, or they have no idea how strong we are.” His head tilted a little to the side, his gaze focused on her with an unnerving intensity. “The hardest part was picking the lock.” He shrugged, adding, “After that, I just gripped the edge of the door and pulled.”

  “You pulled.” Her voice sounded strangely flat, no doubt with shock. “You just pulled what must have been a thousand pounds of counterweight and opened the door.”

  Something wicked flickered in those thick-lashed eyes, but his tone was deceptively light as he said, “I prefer to use my head when there’s a logical answer to a problem. But you can’t argue that there are times when some muscle comes in just as handy.”

  A wry smile touched her lips. “So doing something like that is no big deal to you?”

  Another shrug of those tough, massive shoulders, this one a little tense. “I’ve been traveling in wolf form to get here, so I’m running on excess adrenaline right now.”

  “Not to mention the fact that you’re…huge.” She stared at the way his powerful hands rested against the faded denim of his jeans, his thumbs hooked in his pockets, and felt strangely consumed by hunger in a way that she never had before, as if craving were an actual living thing coiling inside her body.

  With a hard swallow, Chloe cleared the husky note from her throat and continued talking. “You know, it’s probably an odd thing to say to a man I don’t even know, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen hands quite as big as yours.”

  He didn’t say anything in response, just used one of those sun-darkened hands to rub the back of his neck, while a warm rush of color crept across the bridge of his nose and his sharp cheekbones. Transfixed, Chloe watched the way his eyes turned kind of heavy lidded, trying hard to remember why she’d been so determined to ignore this guy.

  Must not have been thinking straight. He’s too beautiful to ignore. It musta been the drugs….

  She knew she was probably being rude, but she could not stop staring at his hands, mesmerized by them. His fingers were scarred, but beautiful in the way that only something on a guy could be. Not pretty, but long and perfectly sculpted, with short-clipped nails that’d been bleached by the sun.

  Then, with her next breath, she remembered the old saying about big hands, big feet, big…

  Her gaze took a swift pass over the heavy bulge behind the fly of his jeans…and damn it, now she was blushing right along with him.

  “So anyway,” he finally rumbled, no doubt saving her from making another embarrassing gaffe, “the reason I’m out here is because we need to talk.” The words were deep and deliciously raspy, creating an immediate physical reaction in Chloe’s body. She noticed the slightest trace of a British accent in his words, mixed with the harder American pronunciations, an underlying grittiness that no doubt came from the fact he wasn’t any more human than she was. If she’d had to describe it, she would have said he had one of those husky voices that sounded like a man saying wicked things in a woman’s ear while he surged deep inside her body. The kind of sex-roughened voice that starred in all of Chloe’s favorite fantasies.

  And now this man was here, in the fles
h, watching her with the most mesmerizing expression on his face, looking as if he wanted to eat her alive.

  I have got to be dreaming….

  Raine had told her the Lycan was coming, but Chloe hadn’t really believed her. After everything that Raine had been through—traumas Chloe knew were going to haunt the psychic’s memories for the rest of her life—she’d worried that the woman was comforting herself with some kind of imagined rescue. Then, two days ago, when Chloe was returned to her cell after an examination by Westmore’s doctor, the werewolf was suddenly there, pacing behind the iron bars of his own cell, reminding her of a caged animal. He’d looked like someone who’d just been dragged out of a war zone, but even flying high on their drugs, she’d thought he was…beautiful.

  And now Mr. Beautiful had sneaked out of his cell, putting himself in close proximity to her, and oh…damn. With a low groan, Chloe suddenly recalled why she’d been trying to ignore him the past two days. Why she’d kept refusing to respond to his questions.

  More than once, the Lycan had moved to the front corner of his cell that was closest to hers and tried to talk to her, but she’d never acknowledged him, pretending to be asleep. Of course, with all the drugs they’d been pumping into her system, she had actually spent most of the past two days knocked out.

  But she was finally awake, and he was obviously done waiting.

  And this is a bad, bad idea. I’ve got a starved Merrick inside me, and any second now it’s going to wake up and see something too good to resist.

  As if he sensed her tension, he looked a little grim as he ran that dark gaze over her blanket-covered form. “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

  “No,” she murmured, forcing her sluggish body into a sitting position. Careful to keep the blanket over her lower body, since she was wearing nothing but a pair of panties and an oversize men’s dress shirt, she leaned against the wall and pulled her knees into her chest. The shirt had been given to her after the last one had gotten drenched in blood during her captors’ failed attempts to “feed” her through an IV, the panties and bra a clean set they’d obviously taken out of the luggage she’d been traveling with when they’d kidnapped her several months ago.