White Knight

by Nicole Flockton

“You need to go home,” Sasha murmured quietly as she stopped in front of him.

  “Or I need a drink. Want to join me at the pub for a quick ale?”

  Yeah, that’s a good way to keep your distance from her. Maybe she’ll say no. Hopefully, she’ll say no.

  “Sounds great. Let me get my stuff.”

  Okay, not a problem. He had self-control. He could keep his hands to himself, his lips to himself, his dick in his pants.

  One drink. That’s all. Just one drink.

  Derek kept repeating one drink in his mind as they made their way to the car park.

  “Do you want to go together?” he asked. Way to prolong the date, you pillock—no not a date, a drink. Just one drink.

  “Sure.”

  They were almost at his car when the lights in the car park went out. Inky blackness overtook them, stealing sight.

  “Seriously, Derek, you’re going to have to learn to control that. I don’t think maintenance will be able to explain the bill you’re running up for the company,” Sasha’s teasing voice whispered through the darkness, barely penetrating the eerie silence.

  “It wasn’t me. Stay close.”

  He went to pull Sasha to him when the lights flicked back on. The brightness blinded him momentarily, long enough for someone to hit him on the back of his shoulder, propelling him to the concrete floor.

  Sasha’s scream filled his ears as he slammed hard into the ground. Calling on his martial arts training, he bounced back up and assumed his fighting stance as his vision cleared.

  “Hey,” he yelled.

  Three men dressed head to toe in black surrounded them. One had an arm raised, ready to strike Sasha as she attempted to break away from the other attacker’s hold. Another stood in front of Derek, mirroring his posture.

  Red haze took over every cell in his body, as the man struck Sasha across the cheek. Derek’s energy began to buzz through him, starting at his toes. The man confronting him rushed forward, and Derek braced, muscles bunching. With an efficient round kick, his foot connected with the man’s jaw. The assailant crumpled to the ground, his head cracking on the concrete. He wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

  One down, two to go.

  “Derek!”

  He turned toward Sasha’s frantic cry; the other two men had picked her up and were carrying her away.

  No way were they going to take her from him. As he had in the boardroom against Lance, Derek harnessed the energy already pulsing through him, fizzing in his blood. He hoped to God what he was about to do wasn’t going to be the biggest mistake of his life.

  With the electricity vibrating through his bloodstream, he envisaged a ball of energy.

  In an instant, a ball of bright white light rested in his palm, neither hot nor cold to the touch. The stench of burning ozone filled his nostrils. He raised his arm and hurled it in the direction of the man about to open the back door of a black van. The ball whizzed through the air, crackling, and landed in the middle of the accoster’s back, wrapping tentacles of silvery lightning around his body. The man jerked and flailed as the electricity sparked through him.

  The man holding Sasha loosened his grip as his accomplice lay on the ground, still seizing. She spun and kneed the guy in the groin. The man backhanded her as he doubled over, hard enough to flip her around.

  This was the second time that bastard had hit her. Derek was going to kill him. But before he had a chance to generate another energy ball, two small figures emerged from the shadows and overpowered the guy until he, too, lay in a heap on the concrete.

  Derek didn’t even bother with the dwarves who’d come to their aid. Instead, he rushed to Sasha, crumpled on the ground.

  “Sasha? Princess, are you okay?”

  He brushed his fingers over her face. She flinched when he connected with the large red welt on her cheek, her skin paler than normal in a way he didn’t like.

  “Hurts,” she whispered.

  Derek tightened his grip. In his periphery, he heard Haden and Tristain talking. He didn’t know if they were calling the police or discussing what to do about the three unconscious men in their car park. His focus remained on Sasha.

  “Shhh, I won’t let anything happen to you, princess.” His hand shook as he adjusted his grip to bring her closer. God, the world was spinning out of control. He lowered his lips and gently laid them over Sasha’s.

  Yes, this is where he belonged.

  Chapter 10

  A subtle cough penetrated the sexual haze overriding Sasha’s senses and flooding her body with a sweet sensation she didn’t want to let go.

  Slowly Derek pulled back, his dark gaze unwavering, a smile lurking in their depths. Only she wanted to chase his lips, get back the kiss that had blocked out the pain in her cheek and brought back flashes of her time as a battlefield nurse in WWII.

  His lips hitched in that heart-stopping grin of his. “The real world is calling.”

  “Do we have to answer?”

  “Don’t worry, I have plans to take us both back to paradise.” He snuck one more swift kiss. “Later.”

  He got to his feet and held out a hand, helping her up. “You need to see a doctor.”

  “No.” She waved that away. The stabbing sensation in her face had decreased to more of a light throbbing. “Some ice and I’ll be fine.” But she didn’t shake off the arm he’d draped around her, as she once would’ve. Derek made her feel cherished and safe. Possibly for the first time since . . .

  Oh, heavens. Was it disloyal to have feelings for a man other than King Arthur Pendragon? Fifteen hundred years was a hell of a long time to hold on to a love who’d died. Who hadn’t loved her back the same way anyway. And being in Derek’s arms was just . . . right.

  She’d never considered a mortal man because she’d known she’d outlive him. After losing Arthur, she didn’t want to risk that kind of pain again. But if she could get her mortality back, maybe—

  Sasha choked back a small gasp. Wait a minute. That battlefield, that vision . . . the perspective was all wrong. She had seen the scene through Derek’s eyes. That was her across the room, tending one of the men.

  Holy. Shitballs.

  How could he have been involved in WWII? Was he a reincarnated soldier? No, reincarnation didn’t exist. Or did it? Jeez, she was losing her mind.

  “We’ve called the police,” Tristain interrupted her haywire thoughts.

  I must be in shock. Her head hurt from all the unanswered questions, not to mention the two blows to her cheek.

  Tristain glanced at the military-style watch on his wrist. “They’ll be here any minute.”

  “Thank you for your help.” Good. At least she sounded calm and not like the shaking little girl deep inside who’d been scared silly. “We’re lucky you showed up.”

  The two shared a cryptic glance, and Tristain dipped his head.

  “It wasn’t luck,” Haden said.

  Must protect her.

  Sasha frowned as she caught the random thought. Was it said out loud, like that time when she’d heard Derek? But that was weeks ago. She must have imagined Haden’s thought.

  “What does that mean?” Derek’s arm tightened around her.

  She’s one of the fated.

  Okay, she definitely heard that this time. She directed her attention to Haden, focusing her ability to plant a thought, to direct actions. Lift your right arm. Haden raised his arm, a quizzical look on his face.

  Right, so she could still nudge people to do things, nothing wrong with her power. She tried to focus again on Haden, but nothing. She heard nothing. Maybe she hit her head when she fell and was hearing things.

  The flash of blue and red lights preceded the cop cars, which entered the parking garage.

  “We’ll explain everything after the police leave.” Tristain cast Derek a hard stare. “And we’ll want to know exactly who and what you are. In the meantime, a Taser is what electrified that guy you fried. Agreed?”

  Derek jerked a nod.
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  Sasha’s heart rate kicked into high gear. What, exactly, were they planning to share? She cast a glance upward to find Derek’s jaw granite hard. He’d risked his life—and exposure of his power to others—to save her. Tristain and Haden had seen him, so his secret was out. But what about her secrets? She still had a stone to steal and destroy and a sorceress to avoid. But could she ruin Derek with those actions?

  Shit. What a mess.

  • • •

  “Thanks for your help.” Sasha shook the hand of the officer or detective—she couldn’t remember what title he’d given before he’d started in on all the questions.

  They’d hauled away the three thugs who’d attacked them. Then they’d taken her back up to the boardroom and sat her down with a cup of tea. Derek, Tristain, and Haden had been taken away separately for questioning.

  “I’ll be right down the hall,” Derek had said, giving her hand a squeeze. She’d held on to the warmth that tiny gesture had engendered in her through the long night.

  Now, finally, the police left, and silence reigned in their wake.

  “Hey.” Derek popped his head in. “You okay?’

  She rubbed her tired eyes. “Yeah. You?”

  Instead of answering, he moved inside, picked her up off her chair as though she were a feather, and sat down with her across his lap, his arms wrapped around her.

  Sasha dropped her head onto his shoulder, exhaustion nipping at her heels. “I’d push you away and give you hell for manhandling me, but I’m too damn tired.”

  He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her. “I can tell.”

  She meant it. Tomorrow she’d reestablish the distance between them. Right now, he felt too good against her.

  A sharp knock made them both swing their gazes around to find Tristain standing in the open doorway. “Sorry to interrupt. My brothers are here to talk if you’re both ready.”

  She pushed away, but Derek tightened his arms around her, so she stayed.

  Other than compressing his lips, Tristain didn’t bat an eye. Interesting. She got the impression he wasn’t too happy with her and Derek getting close to each other. Could it be a professional objection? Somehow she didn’t think so. Tristain had always struck her as the least judgmental of Arthur’s knights. A true warrior, he tended to be the strong, silent type. Even now, he kept his thoughts to himself.

  “I know it’s late.” Tristain interrupted her own mental speculation.

  A groan escaped her. “I’m really tired. Can we do the dissection discussion tomorrow?” Sasha didn’t have to fake the droop to her shoulders. Her eyelids had turned to sandpaper, scraping over her sensitive eyes in an effort to close and stay that way. And her white silk blouse had lost enough buttons in the scuffle that she had to hold it closed.

  Tristain gave her a sympathetic smile, his dark blue eyes surprisingly kind. “The problem is . . . we’re concerned the men who attacked you won’t be the last.”

  What will she say when we tell her a witch is after her?

  Sasha tried not to jerk in reaction. What the hell? Was her power manifesting? Why now, after fifteen centuries, could she now hear thoughts? That power would’ve been handy a long time ago.

  Damn it all to hell, something else she needed to deal with and figure out. Had those thugs been after her? Had Morgan sent them for her, and if so, why hadn’t the sorceress come after her sooner? Getting at her when the dwarves were nowhere near would’ve been easier. They might be little people, but they were strong, trained knights of Camelot. And Derek—what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been with her? If he had left the office when he should’ve, she may not be sitting here with only a bruised cheek. Thank God for his instinct.

  Tristain flicked a glance at Derek. “And there are questions that need to be addressed.”

  Damn. Meeting with them for a kumbaya-let’s-share-secrets powwow should only be done when fully alert.

  She sighed and leveraged herself off Derek’s lap. “Let’s get it over with then.”

  Tristain turned and left, and she moved to follow. Only Derek’s hand on her arm stopped her. “You sure?”

  Those two words. So simple. But it’d been ages—maybe never—since someone had looked out for her. Truly looked out for her. And her alone. Derek had his own secrets to hide, his own agenda to deal with, but he was worried about her. The cement block she’d built up around her heart started to crumble a little.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Her lips twitched.

  “What?” he asked, gaze suddenly hot.

  She resisted the urge to lick her lips now; he’d track the movement. Her body responded to the heat flaring in Derek’s eyes. Desire flooded through her veins. “You said we. I’m wondering when we became a we rather than a you and me.”

  He chuckled as he rose to his feet, escorting her out the door with a hand at her back. “Who would’ve thought, after that night when you wouldn’t let me save you from that prat in the pub.”

  Sasha tilted her chin up to give him a steely-eyed glare, though she allowed a smile to linger on her lips. “Who said I needed saving?”

  She hadn’t, actually. Her plan had been to plant the thought in Baldy’s mind that he would have more success outside, but then Derek turned up. She’d also had years of self-defense training. Tonight, though, she’d played the part of the damsel in distress to keep her cover. Her face had paid the price, although she had managed to kick the guy in the family jewels.

  “Maybe it was just an excuse to hit on a gorgeous woman who caught my eye.”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks. She never blushed, except around him, apparently.

  Lance’s office didn’t have enough seating for nine. She and Derek stood together, side by side, and bore the dwarves’ speculative looks, ranging from curious to a strange kind of anger—from Lance, of course.

  Lance leaned an elbow against his dark mahogany desk, his easy body language at direct odds with his glower. “We’ve reviewed the security footage from tonight, and Tristain and Haden have filled us in on everything.”

  Lance’s gaze zeroed in on Derek. “That’s quite a . . . talent you have.”

  Derek frowned. “You don’t sound surprised or shocked to see energy balls shoot out of my hands.”

  Sasha tried to school her features to appear similarly confused and suspicious.

  “Tell me about you, and I’ll tell you why,” Lance knocked the metaphorical ball back in Derek’s court.

  Derek narrowed his eyes then glanced her way, as if asking her what he should do. Her heart swelled. He wanted her opinion! No one had ever trusted her in this way. “They’ve seen it. Might as well tell them.”

  He shrugged and turned back to Lance. “There’s not much to tell. As you probably assume, I don’t tell people about it because”—he spread his arms wide—“who the hell would believe me? I didn’t know I could do the energy ball thing until tonight anyway. I’ve only started attempting to control this talent. Until recently, I blew out a lot of lightbulbs, but that was about it.”

  “When did this start?” Haden asked.

  Derek moved his focus to the blond dwarf whose green eyes reminded Sasha of the purest emerald. “Since I was a kid.” He crossed his arms, setting his feet wide. “I’ve shared my thing. Now it’s your turn. Who is after Sasha? And why?”

  The dwarves shared a look, as if debating how much to say.

  Just get on with it. Maybe she could cut through some of the bullshit without revealing her situation.

  “The stone that disappeared. It wasn’t a normal thief who took it, was it? That’s why none of Derek’s systems were triggered.”

  Derek jerked his head to stare down at her.

  The others collectively leaned back. She crossed her arms, leveling a look of impatience on them. “Given how easily you accepted energy balls, I’m guessing something . . . unusual . . . is going on here. Doesn’t take a genius, fellas. So, spit it out. What’s going on?�
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  “A woman with whom we’ve been . . . dealing for many years is after the larger stone we showed you,” Waine spoke up. “It holds magical qualities that she desires.”

  Derek coughed beside her. “Assuming we believe in magic, what qualities?”

  “It’s called the Immortality Stone. And we’re not entirely sure. We were told of the stone by a powerful wizard. We’ve searched for cent . . . for a long time, and only recently found what we thought was the right stone.” He glanced at Sasha, who remained passive. “But we’ve been wrong before.”

  “A wizard? What, like Merlin or something?” Derek scoffed.

  Sasha mentally grimaced. Exactly like Merlin. Her father.

  “Something like that,” Waine finally said. “And the woman who wants it is also a powerful witch.”

  Or bitch. Sasha kept that to herself, then had to bite back a slightly hysterical laugh as seven thoughts echoed her own.

  “Okay.” Derek shook his head, as if trying to wrap it around a new reality.

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  Another set of glances. “When you touched the Immortality Stone, it glowed,” Waine said. “That’s how we knew for sure we’d found the right one.”

  “It glowed. So what?” She layered as much skepticism in her voice as possible.

  Waine looked to Lance, who nodded. “We suspect the wizard tampered with the stone, so we can only guess at everything it does. One theory is that it’s connected with an ancient prophecy. It’s complicated, but the basics are that sev . . . er . . . several extraordinary women would appear one day, to be paired with powerful men, their perfect matches. Both the men’s and women’s combined strengths would serve to defeat evil.”

  Gareth stepped beside his brother. “Rumor has it they came close once. With Camelot.”

  “As in the Knights of the Round Table? That Camelot?” Derek asked. Instead of sarcasm, though, he appeared somewhat stunned, a green hue under his skin that hadn’t been there moments ago.

  “Exactly,” Gareth said. “The stone is supposed to glow when one of the fated women touches it.”

  “And it glowed when I touched it,” Sasha stated, feeling faint. This couldn’t be right. So, the stone wasn’t tied only to their immortality?