Knight of Wands (Knights of the Tarot Book 1)

by Mason, Nina

  He got quiet, as if collecting himself, before going on. “I took a lance to the chest and fell from my horse. Either the wound or the fall knocked me out, because the next thing I remembered, it was night. I came back to myself with the sickening odor of butchered meat swirling in my nostrils. All around me, friends and comrades lay in heaps, their faces frozen, their eyes glassy and staring. The battlefield was quiet apart from the wind, which felt as cold and merciless as the hand of death. Death hadn’t claimed me yet, but, given how wretched I felt, I was sure it wouldn’t be long.”

  Callum paused and looked over his shoulder, letting her see his anguished expression, before turning away again. “My head pounded like the drums of war, my lungs felt heavy and wet, my limbs were weak and leaden, and black blood bubbled from my punctured cuirass. There were numerous cuts and abrasions on my hands, and I had broken several bones, but these were minor injuries compared to the chest wound.

  “I was dying, I knew for a surety—of the blood loss, if nothing else. I was glad of it, too. I welcomed death; longed for it, even. I knew, you see, that if I did recover, I would never again be the same…and I would have much rather died in a useless battle than live on as a useless man.”

  His voice was strangled by strong emotion. Her heart ached for him, and she would have gone to him if she thought he’d welcome her comfort.

  Taking a breath, he went on. “Hooves sounded in the distance. It had to be an English patrol coming to stove in my head…or maybe scavengers to rob the dead and wounded. They’d take anything they could sell for a few pennies. Weapons, armor, boots, purses, buttons—even teeth, if they weren’t too decayed. Being a well-to-do nobleman, I had good, strong teeth. With any luck, I thought, they would kill me before yanking them out of my jaw.

  “The hoof beats grew louder. When at last horse and rider came into view, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was a lass on a pure-white pony with the longest mane and tail I’d ever beheld. I blinked a few times, sure I must be hallucinating, but she remained where she was, as big as life and as bonny as a woodland nymph.

  “‘Do any Scots yet live?’ she called out in a voice like music on the wind. When I answered, albeit feebly, she slipped off her horse, came to where I lay, and crouched down. Her black hair hung below her waist, her eyes were as green as emeralds, and light seemed to shine from within her. As she checked my wounds, she told me her name was Belphoebe, and asked me mine. It took all the strength I could summon to give her my answer. Learning I was the king’s astrologer, she said, ‘Our astrologers foresaw the slaughter. Why did you not warn your king?’

  “After I told her I had, and how he’d ignored my warnings, she withdrew a golden chalice from the folds of the gossamer garment she wore. Holding the cup to my lips, she urged me to drink. The beverage inside tasted like honey mead, but had to be enchanted. For no sooner had I drunk it down than my chest ceased hurting and the strength returned to my limbs.”

  Vanessa, throat tight, hung on every word. The story was incredible, gripping…and, inconceivably, true.

  Callum glanced at her again, then away. “After helping me to my feet, Belphoebe mounted her horse. I was still marveling at my miraculous healing when she grabbed me by the arm and swung me up behind her in a display of impossible strength. I clung to her, burying my face in her apple-scented tresses, as we rode hard toward the sea. When I asked where we were going, she simply answered, ‘To Avalon.’”

  He shot another backward glance at Vanessa, his eyes glittering. “I was astonished, as you might imagine, having always thought Avalon merely a mythical place.” He turned back to the window before going on with the story. “At the water’s edge, she urged her mount forward, into the water. The pony, to my amazement, ran across the surface, its silver hooves clinking like wind chimes as we galloped over the waves. Just before we reached the Farne Islands, the animal dove under, swam to the bottom, and cantered along the ocean floor. I was so dumbfounded by this turn of events, I hardly noticed I felt neither wet nor buoyant…and could breathe as normal.

  “At length, we entered an underwater cave, wherein an invisible force pressed down on me. Suddenly fearful, I clung tighter to Belphoebe and shut my eyes. The next thing I knew, we were on the shore of an island fortressed by cliffs. Towering pine trees edged the sugar-white sand and the sultry air carried the perfume of apple blossoms and honeysuckle.

  “Belphoebe urged the pony up a hill, stopping at the crest of the butte. Below us lay a deep, misty glen with a crystalline loch at its center. Dense groves of deciduous trees—all leafy and bright green despite it being autumn—bordered the shore. A tidal island with a castle upon occupied the center of the loch. A precarious-looking rope bridge connected the island to the shore. “‘What is to be my fate?’ I asked, deeply afeared.”

  When he stopped speaking, Vanessa waited on tenterhooks for him to continue his fantastic tale. When he didn’t, she cleared her throat and asked, “What did she say?”

  He turned and, for the first time since starting the story, met her gaze head on. “She said I was to be a knight to the queen.”

  A knight to the queen? That didn’t sound so very terrible.

  With a sigh, he turned away again and went on with the story. “Inside the castle, I was taken to the royal receiving room and stripped naked before the queen and her attendants. Shame and outrage cooked within me as they prodded and fondled me like a prize bull at a livestock auction. I kept telling myself this couldn’t be happening, that it must all be a dream of delirium brought on by my battle wounds, but, try as I might, I could not pull myself out of the hallucination.”

  He sighed again and took a moment before saying, “Once I’d passed inspection, two impossibly strong female faeries held my arms while the queen approached with a golden grail. It contained blood, which she poured down my throat. Within seconds, I became groggy and disoriented. The attending faeries forced me to my knees before the throne, whereupon Queen Morgan performed the ceremony of the accolade—striking a blow on each shoulder with a sword she called Caliburnus while dubbing me a Knight of Avalon.

  “Afterward, the faeries took me to a guardhouse, where they bathed and dressed me in a simple saffron tunic before showing me to a barracks. Other knights were there—all Scottish nobles who’d fallen in battles dating back to ancient times. Bannockburn, Boroughbridge, Dornock, Neville’s Cross, Piperdean, and many more. All, like me, were strong of body and fair of face.”

  Callum rubbed the back of his neck, then came and sat beside Vanessa. In a low, strained voice, he said, “You might find the rest disturbing, so prepare yourself. Unless you’d rather I didn’t tell you.”

  “No,” she said, touching his arm. “I want to hear everything.”

  “Very well…but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He licked his lips and looked away. “I asked one of the other knights, a big Viking Highlander called Axel, what our duties were. His answer both shocked me senseless and made me feel ill.”

  “What did he say?” she asked with strangling dread.

  “He said we were the queen’s drones.” After a prolonged silence, he continued. “Avalon, I soon learned, operated in the manner of a beehive. Below the queen were the ladies of the court, the royal archers, and the servants—in that order. Some of the faeries were sold as slaves to the denizens of other lands. Elves, vampires, and the like. From the guardhouse yard, I watched the comings and goings of these and other creatures I’d previously believed were purely mythical.

  “The males of the colony served only one purpose: the pleasuring of the females. There were three hierarchies of drone. The knights, who were fertile, serviced the queen; the squires, who were infertile, serviced the ladies of the court; and the pages, also sterile, were at the disposal of all.

  “Life at Castle Le Fay was like something out of a twisted novel. Pages walked around without a stitch, sporting erections. Couples fornicated openly, heedless of their audience. The queen took multiple knights to her bed, often orde
ring us to do things to one another as she looked on…or to pleasure ourselves while watching her with one or more of our comrades.”

  “Oh, my God,” was all Vanessa could think to say in her horror.

  “Weeks passed, but, since the sun never set, there was no way to mark the days. I missed the stars, my life, my freedom, my family and friends, and my dignity. I begged God for deliverance, but my prayers went unanswered. I lost hope, self-respect, and the will to live. Then, one day, four fairies hauled me out of bed and dragged me into the grove. After leading me to a clearing, they stripped me naked and staked me to the ground, spread-eagled, before pouring warm honey over my genitals. Terrified and thrashing against my restraints, I demanded to know why I was being punished.”

  With tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat, Vanessa asked, “What did they say?”

  Through clenched teeth, he ground out, “They said I was being punished for siring naught but drones.”

  Vanessa, heavy-hearted, shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither did I,” he said. “I only know she killed all the male children she bore…and made their fathers pay a heavy toll. The faeries left me there, naked and staked, to suffer the tortures of starvation, sunburn, and insects. The ground was strewn with fruit just beyond my reach. The fecund smell of its sun-rotting flesh sickened me even as my stomach cried to be filled. Thirst turned my throat to jerky. Wasps and yellow jackets stung where they’d poured the honey. Flies swarmed to me, buzzing, biting, and laying eggs.”

  Vanessa swallowed hard, sickened by the things he’d described. She also was outraged. How could anyone be so cruel—especially to someone who’d done nothing wrong?

  “Just when I thought I could bear no more, I felt the touch of caring hands. It was Belphoebe, come to set me free. She cut me loose and helped me to a stream, where she cleaned me up before taking me to a hidden cave. After laying me down on a bed of pelts, she sliced open her wrist and offered me the dripping wound. Blind and delirious, I drank her blood and felt better at once. Until she told me I was to be offered as the tithe.”

  “Tithe? As in a tax?”

  “Aye,” he said. “To the Dark Lord of the Thitherworld. Every seventh Samhain, each royal court must pay him a tithe in the form of a blood oblation. The tithe was due the next day…and the queen had designated me as the sacrifice.” He closed his eyes and took a breath. “So, I was to be sacrificed. For no worse crime than begetting sons.”

  Outrage over the faery queen’s cruelty erupted inside Vanessa. “She abducts wounded men, forces them to breed with her, and then subjects them to unspeakable tortures if they happen to impregnate her with a boy?”

  “Aye, exactly.”

  “But, but—that’s madness!”

  “Aye,” he said, “and Belphoebe agreed—the reason she helped me escape.”

  Remembering what he’d said earlier, Vanessa asked, “By telling the queen you were dead?”

  “Aye, and producing the heart of a boar to back up her story. Then, on Samhain, I waited for Morgan and the rest to ride out, assumed the form of a sea lion, and made my way back to Barrogill.”

  “Wait a minute,” Vanessa said, surprised. “You can change into an animal?”

  “Aye. Using ancient magic, I can turn myself into any sort of creature I choose.”

  Remembering her encounter with the lion, she exclaimed, “Oh, my God. The lion I saw in the garden was you!”

  “It was…out hunting to reduce the temptation to drink your blood.”

  “Drink my blood?” she repeated, intrigued. “What’s that like?”

  “Very erotic, actually.”

  * * * *

  Vanessa, who’d fantasized about giving herself to a vampire since reading Twilight in high school, was excited by the prospect of Callum drinking her blood. Crossing to the tall chest, she picked out a corset, a matching thong, and a pair of thigh-high stockings. As she put everything on, he watched with a scorching gaze that made her feel like a gazelle in the sights of a hungry lion. It also made her feel incredibly desirable.

  Deciding to put on some high heels to enhance the effect, she went to the armoire, pulled out an especially slutty pair, and slipped them on before parading past him like a runway model.

  “Well?” she said, turning to show him all angles. “What do you think?”

  “Nothing,” he said, pulling her down on his lap. “I can’t think when there’s no blood left in my brain.”

  Vanessa laughed and wiggled on his lap, confirming the truth of his statement. Wanting him naked, she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it open, exposing his sculpted torso to her view. God, he was sexy. Too fucking sexy for words—and so much more than that, too. If only Sorcha was right. If only he was her immortal beloved. But he couldn’t be, could he? Because there was no such thing, and even if a seed of real feeling sprouted from their affair, he would uproot it like a weed when he took her memories.

  The thought gave her pain, so she blinked it away, not wanting to spoil the mood of the moment. She ran her hands over his chest, delighting in the feel of his wiry hairs, and stared into his eyes. She didn’t know what she wanted or how this could work; she only knew she didn’t want to forget him. He gazed back at her in a way that almost made her believe he did care for her. Then, he closed the distance and kissed her softly—a brush of the lips, a nip of the teeth.

  He might not be her reason for living, but she still wanted to please him. He’d given her oral pleasure but she hadn’t returned the favor. Not yet, anyway, and suddenly wanted to very much. Moving her mouth to his ear, she whispered, “Would you like me to suck your cock?”

  “Oh, aye,” he said, “while I watch.”

  Aroused by his answer, she worked her way down his chest, planting soft kisses as she went. When she flicked the tip of her tongue against his nipple, it hardened instantly. He moaned and petted her hair with both hands. After teasing his nipples for several seconds, she moved on, slipping to the floor between his knees as she kissed her way down to the waistband of his jeans. Rather than open his fly, she gently gnawed his bulge through the denim. He groaned with pleasure and rolled his hips.

  Ever so slowly, she unbuttoned his fly, freeing his erection, which she peppered with kisses before closing her lips around the head. As her tongue explored every nook and cranny, she attempted to tug off his jeans. To make the task easier, he lifted his ass off the couch. When his jeans were off, she took him deeper and twirled her tongue up and down his shaft while playing with his balls.

  “I wonder if this is how a flower feels when a butterfly sucks the nectar from its stamen.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, letting go of him, “but it might explain why flowers are always so cheerful.”

  Hooking her under the arms, he lifted her with impossible strength. As soon as she was settled on his lap, he claimed her mouth, doing to her tongue what she’d done to his cock moments before. Taking hold of her ass with both hands, he dragged her sex up and down his, hitting her sweet spot with each delicious pass. The pleasure rose from her depths like a shark scenting blood in the water. He withdrew the bait, leaving her trembling and unfulfilled.

  “You’re a terrible tease,” she said, breathing hard. “Has anybody ever told you that?”

  He let out a small laugh. “I’m only a tease if I won’t give you what you want—and, believe me, I will.”

  “When?”

  Wearing a devilish smile, he moved his hands to her corset, took out one of her breasts, set upon the nipple with his lips and tongue, and teased her into a frenzy. Then, coming up for air, he met her gaze and asked, “May I, mo dearbadan-de?”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “May you what?”

  “Drink from you.”

  Her euphoria evaporated. “From my breast?”

  He nodded. “Heartblood is the best.”

  She scraped her teeth across her lower lip as she considered his request. “Will it hurt?”

  “Only th
e bite, after which it’s intensely pleasurable. I promise.”

  “In that case,” she said, more intrigued than afraid, “go for it.”

  He bit down, startling her with the sudden prick of his fangs. As he drew her blood, he flicked his tongue against her excited nipple. As the first wave of ecstasy crashed over her, he impaled her with his cock. Still sucking the blood from her breast, he thrust upward, again and again and again, driving into the core of her being until she broke apart like a germinating seed.

  Chapter 9

  An hour later, Vanessa awoke to find herself alone in a freezing cold room. Shivering, she cast around for the ghost. There was no shimmer, just the chill and the uncanny feeling of an unearthly presence.

  “Don’t leave him,” the ghost said from thin air. “He needs you.”

  “I can’t stay. Even if I wanted to, there are too many impediments.”

  “What impediments exist that love cannot overcome?”

  Love? The word startled Vanessa. Yes, she was developing feelings for Callum, but it was much too soon to be throwing around a word like love. “We live in different countries, for one, and, for another, he’s a five-hundred-year-old faery. He’ll never grow old or die…and I will.”

  “He’s a good man,” Sorcha said, glittering faintly. “Better than I realized when I married him. Better than the man I wanted instead.”

  Her statement hooked Vanessa’s interest. “You were in love with somebody else?”

  “Aye,” the spirit said. “A bonny man I met at a gathering of the clans, but who wasn’t good enough for my parents. As it turned out, they were right. He only wanted me for what I might bring to the union, not for who I was.”

  “Couldn’t the same be said of your marriage to Callum?”

  “At first, yes. But he always treated me with kindness and respect and took an interest in me. I believe he would have grown to love me, had I opened my heart. But I was too blinded by self-pity and resentment to see my family’s choice was better than my own.”