Immortal Flame (The Excalibur Duet Book 2)

by Kim Loraine

  Immortal Flame

  The Excalibur Duet #2

  Kim Loraine

  Copyright © 2018 by Kim Loraine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: OliviaPro Designs

  Edited by: Ellie McLove My Brother’s Editor

  Proofreader: Allison Irwin

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Kim Loraine

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  This book is the second part of a duet. It contains scenes of a mature nature between three consenting adults, yes, three. That’s where this note stops. I don’t like spoilers! Thank you for reading.

  xoxo,

  Kim

  Chapter One

  Gwen

  “This isn’t going to be pleasant. We can’t call him to us. We’ll have to go to him,” I say, staring at the marble countertop in the kitchen.

  Brooks is silent for a moment, his large frame a calming presence in my chaotic world. “Okay, and what does that mean?”

  My heart leaps at the knowledge that this man, who has made it clear that he wants me, is going to help me find Lancelot. I have my magic. We can save Lance. I feel it within me. My vision said Lance would live and I have to trust this is the right path.

  Butterflies beat their wings in my belly as I reach for Brooks’ strong hand. Closing my eyes, I whisper my spell, weaving it around us both and tying us to Lancelot. Wind whips my hair and Brooks tightens his grip on my hand as we’re transported to the place we’ll find my knight. I hear birds singing and the light of the sun filters through my closed lids. Taking a deep breath, I’m surprised to find fresh air and the scent of grass and roots.

  I blink a few times and gasp. Camelot. We’re in Camelot. It has to be, but it’s turned to ruins, a forest growing in the place the beautiful city once stood.

  “I know this place,” Brooks whispers, and a bolt of shock strikes me straight through the chest.

  “So do I.” I can barely breathe.

  “Why do I know this? Where are we?”

  Unease curls in my heart and I release my grip on his hand. Was the demon right when he said Brooks was Arthur?

  I swallow past the lump in my throat and try to play it off. “I could be wrong, but I’m fairly certain we’ve been brought to the place where Camelot once stood.”

  “How do you know that?”

  My gaze drifts to a spot to the west, and I see it clear as day, the pyre they built for me stood right there in what once was the courtyard. A few crumbling stones form the foundation of the tower Arthur had been in while his sentence was carried out. “You never forget where you’ve died.”

  I can tell he’s shocked. “Which way do we go?”

  My hands tremble with the unwavering memories of my most painful end. My end at his hand. But we have to find Lancelot, and I can’t leave Brooks behind. I link our hands in hopes of hiding my anxiety and let the spell become my singular focus. The invisible chain wrapped around my heart tugs me toward Lance. I point to the north. “That way. Can’t you feel it?”

  Brooks closes his eyes and nods. “Yes. I feel it.”

  We follow the pull of the spell through overgrown paths, the call of my magic growing stronger with each step. I’ve released Brooks and run ahead, desperate to find my Lancelot. I’m going to give that man a piece of my mind when I find him, but at least I’ll be in his arms again. Bursting through a clearing, I stop short at the sight of a pile of gray ashes. My stomach turns. No. It isn’t him. It can’t be.

  Something glitters in the light at my feet and I can’t help but kneel to pick up the object. I know this chain. The last time I saw it the moonstone was hanging from it. “This…the moonstone was on it.” I gesture to the pile of ash. “Whoever this was had my power and was using it against us all.”

  “So, it was Lancelot who freed your magic,” Brooks states.

  “It had to have been him. Oh, God,” I whisper, bringing my fingers to my lips. My chest hurts at the mere thought of Lancelot suffering. Of losing him forever. “Is that…”

  “No, darling, no. It can’t be him. I still feel the pull. If he were dead, would this spell have worked?”

  He’s right. God, he has to be right. Relief washes over me and I take a shaky breath. “You’re right. Nothing would have happened. I wouldn’t be able to sense him.”

  “Then we continue on our path.” Brooks caresses my shoulder and slides his hand down my arm until our fingers are once again linked. I don’t stop him. I need the comfort. I need him to hold me together because I’m about to fall apart. “Come on. We do this together.”

  We continue forward, signs of a battle obvious in the clearing. But it’s the hawthorn tree that stops me. Lancelot is here. My heart is pulled to the same tree where we loved each other under cover of darkness centuries ago. Of course he would be there, waiting for me. “Lancelot!” I call, rushing up the hill to find him. But Lancelot isn’t there. My connection to him breaks, my heart turning to nothing, just an empty vessel when I see the sword. That damned sword sits driven into a tangle of roots, taunting me.

  I fall to my knees in front of Excalibur, letting my heartbreak consume me. “He’s gone. He’s gone.” I faintly hear Brooks calling my name, but I can’t focus on anything but Lance. Standing, I wrap my fingers around the hilt of Excalibur and pull with all my might. I have to get this sword. I have to bring him back. I scream in desperate agony when the blade doesn’t move.

  “How do you know he’s gone?” Brooks asks, and I realize I’ve been repeating the mantra over and over.

  “I can’t feel him anymore. He’s not on this plane.” I don’t want the words to be true. I can’t live without Lancelot just as surely as we can’t stop the apocalypse without his help.

  Brooks pulls me away from the gleaming sword and holds me to his chest but then he steps toward Excalibur and everything changes. A vision hits me hard, Brooks with Excalibur and the jeweled scabbard Arthur always wore. Brooks wielding the sword with all its power. Brooks, taking his place as The Once and Future King. Oh, God. Brooks is Arthur. If I wasn’t sure before, I have no doubt now.

  My vision fades, leaving me with a faint headache, but my heart turns over as I stare in shock. Brooks touches the hilt of the sword and the wind whips around him as the blade emanates a bright glow and slides free of the roots as though they were only holding them gently. He holds the blade high before looking directly at me. The pain and regret is palpable when he looks into my eyes. He’s remembering it all.

  He falls to his knees and lets out a soul-baring sob. I can’t help but go to him. We’ve been through too much for me to abandon him now. I put him through too much. Then he turns his face to me and kisses me hard. It’s not a kiss Arthur would have ever given me, but I know that’s who he is.<
br />
  “Guinevere,” he murmurs.

  “Arthur.” I sigh his name, putting aside the past hurt for the future we have to save—together.

  Then, as though my king echoes my heartbreak, he says, “We have to find Lance. We have to bring him back to us.”

  Chapter Two

  Brooks

  One touch changed everything. In the blink of an eye, I became a different person. Two lives in one mind. I was Arthur Pendragon. I lived and loved, and then I lost it all.

  Excalibur lies discarded on the ground, my hands still shaking from the overwhelming rush of memories continually crashing into me like waves in a vast, wild ocean. Lancelot is gone and I have no idea how we can move forward without him. My Guinevere kneels beside me, her gentle hands rubbing my back as she holds me.

  “Gwen,” I begin, but have to stop because of the ache in my heart at the memory of how our life together ended…of what I did to her.

  “Arthur, don’t.”

  I shake my head and pull back from her. That name feels strange. It’s the ghost of a man I was, but Brooks is still here. Brooks is still who I am. My angelic grace sings in my veins, a reminder that in this life I have a calling. I am Nephilim. Half angel, half human, and determined to end the apocalypse. “Call me by my name in this life. Call me Brooks. Arthur was a coward who did you wrong. If I’d been any kind of husband to you, I’d never have let my counsel send you to the pyre.” Even now the vision of her being led to her death makes nausea curl in my gut.

  “You had no choice.” Her voice is tight, and I know she’s remembering the flames.

  Again I shake my head. “I sent word to Lancelot. I thought he’d come for you. I had no doubt he’d rescue you and then I’d come find both of you.”

  Tears swim in her eyes. “But he had already been imprisoned in purgatory. You couldn’t have known. From the beginning we were set up to fail. My curse ensured that.”

  Anger blooms in my chest. “I still sent you to death. By the time I realized he wasn’t coming—” I have to swallow past the lump in my throat before I can finish. “I was too late.”

  I should’ve done so many things differently and our current situation proves I’m still making mistakes. I failed my wife. I failed my best friend, the man I loved as I loved Gwen—the man I could never have.

  It’s strange to have two lives playing in my mind. My past was filled with unrequited desire for Lancelot and a love for Gwen that was born of respect and friendship more than sexual need. But now? Now my want for Gwen is of a much more carnal nature. Until I touched that damn sword she was the only one I wanted, but my desires are at war with one another and I don’t know how to handle them. My past self loves them both, my present self craves them both. Either way, I need them…both.

  “We have to find Lance,” I say, getting to my feet and holding out a hand for hers.

  She turns sad eyes on me but takes my offered help as she rises. “He’s gone. The sword abandoned him…he lost his fight with the demon blood.”

  I bend down and take up Excalibur once more, the weight of the blade in my palm a calming thing, as though I’ve been missing it all this time. “Something isn’t right about this. He returned your magic. If he wasn’t worthy why would he do that?”

  “I…I don’t know. But I can feel it, Brooks. Lance is gone. He’s as good as dead.” The pain in her voice makes me wish I could fix this for her. “I’m not sure where we go from here.”

  “Gwen, look at me.” She locks gazes with me and I’m hit with a wave of emotion so strong my knees nearly buckle. Our bond is more than an arranged marriage hundreds of years ago. My angelic nature pulses with the power of our connection. Gwen is my soul mate. Just as my father fell from Heaven for my mother, I would do the same for Guinevere. After taking a steadying breath, I push back the instinct to tell her what just happened and take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, a gesture I’ve never used before with her. “Wherever we go, we go together. You are mine. I won’t put you at risk.”

  She nods and her brow furrows. “What is it I’m seeing in your eyes? There’s so much passion. Arthur never looked at me that way.”

  “I may have been Arthur, but I’m still Brooks. I still desire you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  Her breath hitches but she doesn’t respond, instead she links our hands. “We need to talk to my sisters.”

  I clear my throat and send a pulse of my grace through my palm and into her. When she tenses and looks into my eyes with a question hovering unasked between us, I say, “I can make this easier on you. Your powers only just returned.”

  She closes her eyes and the world around us swirls and tilts. I shut my own eyes and my grip on Excalibur doesn’t loosen. Gwen is taking us somewhere, and I have to trust in her. As we’re transported through space and time, I’m hit with a vision of the enchanted ruby belt that matches the sword. It’s not complete. Excalibur won’t serve its purpose if it isn’t whole. We’ll fail our mission if we can’t find the scabbard.

  When I open my eyes I’m greeted with rolling green hills, gray cold skies, and the stern faces of four people. One of whom is certainly a fallen angel.

  “You said he was hot,” the small blonde says, her Irish accent strong. “You definitely didn’t lie.”

  The man behind her grumbles and pulls her close, his big body making her look even more petite. His palm rests on her pregnant belly and I see the flash of a gold wedding band on his finger. “I’ll have you know I’m right here, Beauty.”

  The blonde smiles. “I’m aware, Beast.”

  The other woman is tall and statuesque, her frame lean and regal. “Made your choice, I see? No threesome in your future?”

  Gwen stiffens beside me. “Helena,” she hisses. “Now is not the time.”

  “Where’s your knight?”

  The question hangs between us until Gwen releases my hand and steps forward. “Gone. He’s…I don’t know how to find him.”

  “You tried the locator spell?” Helena asks, pulling Gwen away from me and into her arms.

  “We found the sword. Brooks…he’s Arthur.”

  Helena’s dark gaze finds me and I feel her power hovering on the edge of threatening. “You said he killed you. He’s responsible for…burning you.” She whispers the last and I fight the urge to protest.

  Gwen looks back at me and all I see is hope in her eyes. Then she turns her attention to her sisters. “The three of us know enough about past lives to understand we can’t change what’s happened, only move forward and do better.”

  Helena takes a long breath, but nods. “I suppose. And Excalibur? Does he hold that power?”

  “I do,” I say, not wanting Gwen to speak for me. “It was locked in the roots of a hawthorn tree. When I touched the hilt I remembered…everything.”

  She furrows her brow and steps toward me, but the fallen angel at her side sucks in a sharp breath and steps in front of her. “None of that, love. I’ll be the one examining this…Nephilim.”

  “I told you what he was, Tamiel,” Gwen argues, but the fallen steps forward and takes me by the arm.

  “Who sired you?” Tamiel closes his eyes and I feel the force of his grace pushing against me. “Why can’t I sense him?”

  I pull my arm out of his grip and square my shoulders. I’m a tall man and my presence intimidates most, but not this bloke. “You’d do well to keep your hands off me, mate.”

  “Mate?” The angel laughs and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “I’m not your friend. You might be the child of one of my brothers, but that doesn’t mean you’re on our side. All I know is Gwen shows up here with you instead of Lance, heartbreak written all over her face, and Gabriel has said absolutely nothing about you being part of this.” He stands between me and the witches, the large man who’d been protecting the blonde taking up a place beside him. Upon closer inspection, I can tell he’s a shifter.

  “What do you want to do here, Tamiel?” the shifter asks, his
voice a low rumble colored by a thick Scots accent. Now that he’s nearer I feel the wolf inside him close to the surface. No wonder the little blonde called him Beast.

  “I’m not sure. Helena, take Gwen inside. We need to have a chat with my…nephew.”

  The last thing I want is to let her out of my sight. I just got her. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

  Tamiel’s wings extend and his eyes glow with the power his angelic grace affords him. “Do not challenge me, Nephilim.”

  I’m not backing down. “Gwen and I are in this together. The two of us stay together.” My hand rests on the hilt of Excalibur and my own grace burns as it gathers power and sends it all to the blade.

  “Bloody hell,” the shifter murmurs. “The sword is fucking glowing.”

  I raise the sword and ready to defend myself. “Don’t make me use this.”

  The fallen angel’s hands glow bright with power. “I’ve been fighting longer than both your lives combined. You won’t win. Not even with Excalibur.”

  “That’s enough!” Gwen appears between us, her hands held out, sparks of blue magic flying from her fingers. “The two of you need to stop this. Tamiel, Brooks is meant to be part of this. I feel it in my bones.”

  “But…Izzy was fooled once before,” the shifter says. “Don’t you recall what happened with Tristan?”

  “I haven’t forgotten that, Grant, but I can assure you, I’m under no love spell.” Her voice is so sure and strong, just like the queen she once was.

  “And how can you be certain?”