Gwen D’Morte and the Stolen Sword (The Avalon Institute Book 1)

by Eve Stone

  “I’m not trying to hurt you. I swear that’s the last thing that I ever want to do. You mean so much to me and no matter what happens that is never going to change.”

  He huffs. “Tristan Locke changes everything.”

  I shoot him a warning glare. “I feel the same about Holly.”

  “Can we talk?” he asks, lowering his voice. “But not here. Somewhere private?”

  “I’m heading to my room right now. Come with?”

  We walk side-by-side in companionable silence for most of the walk to my dorm.

  “I’ve missed you, you know,” he says, finally breaking the silence. “I hardly see you anymore.”

  I groan. “It’s this damn trial. I can’t wait until it’s over.”

  He bobs his head. “I can imagine. How are you doing with that?”

  “About as well as I can.” I let out a harsh breath. “I’ve completed one trial and I’m about to complete the second.”

  “That’s good. I knew you could do it,” he says with a smile on his voice.

  “Where have you been?” I say, bumping my hips into him.

  “Around.”

  As much as I want to press, I don’t. If he’s started something with Holly, it’ll sting. That’s something I can’t deny, but he has every right to. I’m with Tristan now, so I can’t refuse him a chance to be happy too, but that doesn’t mean I have to subject myself to hearing about it. I’m not ready for that yet.

  I let us into my room, and he takes a seat at my desk. “About Holly.”

  I raise my hand quickly to stop him. “Let’s not. You don’t have to tell me the sordid details. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

  He shakes his head. “Please let me talk.”

  I acquiesce, sitting on my bed and giving him my full attention.

  “I have recently been…tasked, to siphon some knowledge from Holly.”

  My lips purse and my nose scrunches in confusion, but I don’t speak. He wants to talk, I’m going to let him. He lets out a deep breath, putting his palm to his head in frustration.

  “I’m not explaining this well. I was essentially asked to spy on her and extract some information. You’re not supposed to know about this. Actually, no one is supposed to know about this. I could probably get in some serious trouble, but I had to tell you. I didn’t want you to think that I had wanted Holly over you,” he says, words rushing out.

  “So, you made out with her just to get information?”

  “Yes,” he admits.

  “Laaance, that’s kind of low. I have no love lost for Holly, but I even kind of feel bad for her. She seemed to really be into you.”

  “I know,” he groans. “And now I can’t shake her. But my challenge came directly from the top.”

  The use of the word challenge has my head snapping to his. “Lance, are you one of the six additional champions?”

  He pales, telling me all I need to know.

  “Gwen, you can’t say anything. God,” he says, standing quickly and beginning to pace. “I could…I don’t even know. Be banished?”

  “Calm down,” I whisper shout. “I’m not gonna tell anyone, besides, I knew about the extra champions. All of us did.”

  “Humph, I thought we were all supposed to be kept secret. We weren’t supposed to reveal our identities.”

  “None of the others know. Let’s just say I came into contact with a folder pertaining to all this information. Well, Tristan and I.”

  “Tristan knows,” he says in what sounds like panic.

  “Yes, but funny thing…you weren’t on that list. There were only five additional names.”

  He frowns, “That doesn’t make sense. If you saw the list of champions, my name should’ve been on it. Chancellor Andrews recruited me himself.”

  Damn Andrews and all of his secrets. His demerits are adding up quickly. It’s odd that Lance is one of the champions when his name is absent from the list, but Chancellor Andrews has acted dubious.

  “Lance, does the Chancellor have you spying on anyone else?”

  He looks away from me. “I think it’s best if I don’t answer that question.”

  A non-answer. Typical Lance when he’s trying to avoid something uncomfortable.

  “As I’m sure you are under an oath, so am I. Please don’t ask me any more questions and just trust that I’m on your side. And that I’m keeping an eye out for you.”

  I smile at my friend. “You always do.”

  I stand from my bed, walk over to him, pull him into a hug, and place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

  “I’m exhausted. I’m gonna take a shower and go to sleep.”

  He takes my hand and walks towards the door. He goes to step out but stops, turning back around to face me. “Be safe, Gwen. Something is brewing. I don’t know what it is, but I’m trying to get to the bottom of it.”

  You and me both.

  “I’ll be careful,” I assure.

  I go to close the door on him, but stop at the sight of Tristan leaning up against the wall adjacent to my door. He looks murderous, but I can’t get past the rest of him. His one jean clad leg is up against the wall, supporting him. I practically drool at the way the pants fit him. My eyes scan over him hungrily. A black V-neck t-shirt clings to his chiseled chest, but the scowl he wears is the most impressive thing about him. He is very unhappy. His arms are crossed, hair perfectly disheveled, and his blue eyes shine with ire.

  He shoves off the wall, heading towards us. Lance eyes him, but doesn’t say a word as he passes by.

  “What was he doing in your room?” he says with barely contained fury.

  I grumble, knowing I’m not going to escape this question. “I promised him that I would hear him out about Holly.”

  “And,” he questions impatiently.

  “And,” I parrot. “It’s none of your business.”

  “He was in my girlfriend’s bedroom. It is my business.”

  One pointed eyebrow of mine rises at his declaration. “Girlfriend, eh?”

  He grabs me by my hips and pulls me into him, so that we’re flush against each other. “My girlfriend,” he snarls all alpha like.

  “I suppose I could get on board with that,” I say, smirking.

  His lips meet mine roughly, branding and claiming me, and I let him.

  “I want you out of these clothes. Now,” he growls, pushing me back through my door until the backs of my knees hit the bed. My butt hits the mattress as I willingly pull my shirt over my head.

  There is nothing seductive about it. I want to be rid of my clothes just as much as he wants them off. The memory of his tongue pushes me to hurry in desperation. It’s my turn to please him. This time, I’m taking control. I want to make him feel as good as he made me feel.

  He steps up to the bed and my fingers fumble with the button of his jeans. Once it’s undone, he helps me to lower his pants and jeans from his hips. I gasp as his impressive length is exposed. I have never seen something so magnificent. I’ll never say those words aloud, but truly, it’s impressive. My cheeks heat at the thought of how it’ll undoubtedly hurt when he finally takes my virginity.

  His dick hardens under my intense perusal. Without asking, I dip my head forward, running my tongue up the length of his shaft. He groans my name, which only serves to push me further. I wrap my lips around the top of this cock, alternating between licking and sucking. He grips the back of my hair, pulling just enough to sting a little, but feeling so good.

  Wetness pools between my legs, and I have to restrain myself from using my free hand to pleasure myself. Instead, I cup the bottom of his balls, playing and toying as I run my swollen lips up and down over his cock.

  I know he’s getting close at the first taste of saltiness coating my tongue. It makes me desperate to bring him to his knees.

  “Baby, I’m gonna come,” he half moans.

  I pump my lips harder and faster, using my hand to move over the bottom of his shaft.

  “Gwen, please. I need
to be inside of you.”

  I lick and suck a couple more times, but I can’t agree more. I want to take this to the next step.

  I love Tristan. I always have. We may have gone our separate ways these past few years, but my feelings have never died. He’s always been the one I planned to lose my virginity to, and with the next trial looming and the uncertainty of everything, I don’t want to wait.

  “Yes,” I say, giving him permission to have me. All of me.

  He leans over me, motioning for me to scoot toward the top of the bed. I do. He pulls my black leggings from my legs, taking my panties with them. I lay bared to him. His blue eyes feast over my body, hooded with want.

  His hand go between my legs, pushing one and then two fingers into my pussy. He pushes them in and out, rubbing the moisture he’s creating along my folds, priming me.

  When he’s completely situated over me, cock positioned at my entrance, he leans down, placing delicate kisses along my jaw. “Are you sure, baby?”

  I nod.

  “I need to hear you say it, Gwen.”

  “Yes. Please, Tristan.”

  Without another word, he pushes into me, breaking the barrier that I’ve carried since birth. I squirm under him, the pain searing through me as I stretch around him. He stays still, allowing me to grow accustomed to him. A tear slides down my cheeks, a mixture of pain and being overcome with emotion.

  “Are you alright?” he whispers.

  “I’m okay,” I smile, but it probably looks like a grimace.

  “I’m going to move now, okay?”

  “Okay,” I say, awaiting the onslaught of more pain, but it never comes.

  Instead, what once felt like fire being lit within me turns to indescribable pleasure. My eyes shut as my hips flex, relishing in the feel of him. Tristan sinks into me over and over, bathing me with adoring compliments and reassurances. I bask in his praise and the feel of him inside of me.

  Ecstasy washes through me, building a steady climb towards an orgasm so strong I can barely control myself. I’m a woman possessed as I reach for the release I crave.

  “Gwen, come for me,” Tristan says hoarsely.

  His finger comes to my swollen clit and rubs. My back arches as all the pleasure ripples through me. Tristan calls out as he empties his come inside of me. When he’s done, he falls on top of me, both of us breathing heavily.

  “Gwen, you are a goddess,” he says between labored breaths.

  I chuckle. “That good, eh?”

  He groans. “You have no idea.”

  I lean in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

  “We didn’t use protection,” I say, suddenly feeling ashamed at my lack of caution.

  “You’re fine. I took care of it.”

  I narrow my eyes.

  “For another day,” he offers, trying to get off the topic.

  I don’t push because I trust him. He’s a gifted sorcerer; no doubt he has taken care of everything. We lie together for hours, wrapped in each other’s arms. We stay like that until I fall fast asleep.

  The cloaked figure was dragging Excalibur behind her as I followed. This time, I was going to find out who our murder was. As she turned towards me, I was disappointed to only find darkness. Her face was shadowed by the cloak. I had no doubt at this point that it was a woman. The delicacy of the gloved fingers, the petite nature of the person, all would make it hard to be any man. Not impossible, but hard.

  When the doors flew open, the figure stepped out, finally lowering the hood. Her back was turned to me, but I took in the long raven black hair that fell to her mid back. I was right, definitely a woman.

  “I have it now. We’re even,” the cloaked woman said.

  Another woman—the coven leader, no doubt—stepped forward. “Dowager Coven releases

  you of your debt.”

  The raven-haired woman handed over Excalibur to the witch.

  “We’ve added a bonus for you,” the witch added. “Your council will pay for all of their lies.”

  The cloaked woman bowed her head in thanks.

  With a few enchanted words from the coven, they all disappeared.

  I sit up quickly in bed. Lying next to me is a sleeping Tristan. I shake his shoulders “Tris, wake up.” I huff when he doesn’t so much as rustle. I shake him harder. “Wake up,” I say, louder.

  Tristan jerks awake. “What? What’s wrong?” He says in a state of confusion.

  “We need to go see Chancellor Andrews. Now.”

  Within five minutes I’m out my door and heading towards the Chancellor’s office.

  Tristan, still half asleep, is on my heels, nearly tripping as he pulls his sweatshirt down over his head. He reaches out, tugging on my arm to slow me down.

  “What’s going on? What happened?”

  “I dreamed.”

  It’s all I need to say. He can read between the lines, but he stops me instead, wanting a better explanation. Lowering his voice and leaning toward me, he whispers, “You know who the killer is?”

  I shake my head slowly. “No, but I can tell you that it’s a woman.”

  “If you don’t know who she is, then why are we rushing off to the Chancellor’s office? It’s not even seven o’clock. Chances are he won’t even be there yet.”

  “I don’t care. We have to find him.”

  He stops me. “Did something else happen?”

  “It was a witch coven.”

  “We already suspected that,” he sats, narrowing his eyes.

  “I know which one. I’ll tell you all about it when we find Andrews.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  We make it to the Chancellor’s office right as he’s unlocking his door.

  “Miss D’Morte. Mr. Locke. To what do I owe this pleasure?” His forlorn expression belies his words, but I don’t bother to ruminate on that for long.

  “Why were you having Lance follow Holly?”

  “What?” Tristan says, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

  I put my hand up to silence him, eyes never leaving Chancellor Andrews.

  “So, you know about that,” he shakes his head, eyes downcast. “I knew that you would be Mr. Druitt’s downfall.”

  “You can’t punish him,” I say, lacking warmth. “I promised him I would never tell a soul, and I meant to kept that, but somethings come up that’s forcing me to go back on my word.”

  “That is?” he presses.

  “I’ve been keeping a secret,” I say, and his eyes widened marginally, prompting me to continue.

  “I’ve been having dreams.” I pause, wondering if this was a bad idea to tell him. My father’s warning has been to keep quiet about my abilities in order to save myself, but if my secret could help uncover the mystery surrounding the murders and these trials, so be it.

  “I’ve dreamed about the Knight’s murder. I’m certain of it.”

  He guffaws outright. “That’s impossible. Your father told me himself that your powers were weak,” he says the words, but his eyes betray him. He doesn’t believe what he’s saying. He knows something I don’t.

  “You knew, didn’t you,” I accuse.

  “You foolish girl,” he says sadly. “You should’ve never told a soul about that. Your father has worked for years to prevent anyone from knowing about your abilities.”

  My eyes narrow. “What do you know about my father?”

  “He’s a good man, Gwen. I know that in your eyes he hasn’t been a good father, but he has always loved you.”

  “How would you know that?” I bark.

  “Because we’re friends and I’ve helped him keep secrets over the years to protect your family. To protect you.”

  “Protect us from what?”

  He doesn’t answer me for several minutes. I’m just about to rip him a new ass when he finally speaks.

  “The council,” he breathes. “You see, my secrets have nothing to do with the trials. They revolve around a secret order looking to overthrow the current cou
ncil.”

  I gasp and Tristan grunts. “Overthrow them? Why?”

  “They’ve gotten too greedy. Too powerful. They’re making decisions for the whole society without a care for anyone but themselves. A few members of the council fear that they’ll be our entire society’s downfall.”

  “Is my father a good guy or a bad guy?”

  My question is so childish, but I feel like the world as I know it is unraveling. There’s nothing I can do to control my surroundings and suddenly I’m feeling off balance and unsure of everything.

  I have always thought my father the villain, but now, I’m not sure. For once, I have hope that I’ve misjudged him.

  “Good, Gwen. Always good. He was protecting you from the exploitation of the council. Had they known what you were capable of, they would’ve taken you at once and used you to their advantages. You wouldn’t have had a childhood.”

  I exhale. A weight lifts from my shoulders that I’ve carried my whole life. Knowing that my father really is on my side makes me want to cry. All these years of hate I’ve carried is nothing more than a misunderstanding. Because why? He doesn’t think I’m mature enough to understand that we’re in danger?

  “It seems that all the years of planning that your father has done are for nothing, now that you know about the secret order.”

  “You have told me little about this order,” I snap. “Maybe you should keep talking.”

  “No. That’s your father’s place. So, go on. Tell me about these dreams.”

  I want to argue, but I have come here for different reasons and I need answers. “I will, but first you need to explain to me what Lance was trying to get from Holly.”

  “I think you know,” Chancellor Andrews says. “I have reason to believe that a witch

  coven was involved with the murders.”

  “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  He smirks. “There are some secrets, dear girl, that an old man must keep.”

  “Don’t you think your secrets have gotten you in enough trouble?” I challenge.

  “Not nearly as much as it could if the council knew every ability that I possess.”

  Curiosity is killing me, but I know that he won’t bend on this, so instead I get back to my reason for hunting him down.