Primal Temptation pg-4

by Sydney Somers

  Had everyone been dumped into a different corridor?

  Listening for any of the others, Lucan walked toward the center of the cavern and the rock formation that appeared to move under the flickering torchlight surrounding the statue—a statue of a young man pulling a sword from a stone.

  Tintagel Castle?

  Lucan spun around, studying the crumbled walls and spears of light shooting through the occasional gap in the ceiling overhead.

  They’d been brought to Tintagel Castle, Arthur’s birthplace?

  He couldn’t think of any other place in Avalon or the mortal realm that could have the same statue, one finished just months after Arthur had restored Camelot. Although the last time Lucan had glimpsed the statue, it had sat in the courtyard.

  He’d visited Tintagel dozens of times after he and Arthur had become friends, and later when he’d sworn fealty to the lost king. It was within these castle walls he’d drunk from the Grail, becoming one of Arthur’s immortal knights.

  Centuries had taken their toll on the structure. Little remained of it above, he knew, a broken shell of a once glorious keep that human tourists flocked to now. Shortly after Arthur’s fall in battle, Tintagel Castle had been cast out from the protective seal of the veil and into the human realm.

  Rhiannon might have beaten Arthur’s half-sister to the punch when it came to punishing Arthur’s most loyal followers, but Morgana had done her worst. As soon as she’d seized Camelot for herself, she’d dispatched Mordred’s army to destroy everything Arthur had worked for. Once landmarks, monuments and even peace treaties between warring clans and houses had been eradicated, she’d turned her sights on the childhood home she and Arthur had shared.

  Destroying Tintagel wasn’t enough for the vengeful sorceress. She’d been determined to erase it from Avalon as though it had never existed. Had Morgana not felt compelled to thrust the great castle from Avalon, none of the mortal realm would have ever heard of King Arthur, heard the stories passed down from those who’d called Tintagel home when it had been shoved outside the veil.

  Caught up in the past that was forever reaching into the present to haunt him, Lucan took his time circling the cavern, pausing once more before the statue. As though he’d been there, the artist had captured the near desperate determination on Arthur’s face as he gripped the hilt of Excalibur.

  A reluctant grin caught the corner of Lucan’s mouth. Dozens of stories had been told about the sword and the stone and none of them had gotten it right. Historians and philosophers alike would be shocked to know that sword had been drawn to fight off the men Arthur had just robbed.

  And Lucan had helped him.

  Steeling himself against the fuzzy memories that tried to rise up, he turned away from the statue and gave himself over to his phantom self. It made moving between tunnels much easier.

  He’d long ago grown accustomed to the sensation of becoming nothing, losing everything but his consciousness, which could so easily be consumed by an uncontrollable blood lust.

  He might have wanted to apologize to Briana for what he’d said, but it didn’t make it any less true. If caught on the edge of losing his mind to a hunger he was denying himself, like what had happened in the alley, he knew full well he could be capable of eliminating anything that stood in his way of being free of such a curse.

  If he dared to believe such a thing was possible.

  The walls shook with the force of a dragon’s roar, followed by a scream—a woman’s. Elena maybe, or the enchantress. Not Briana.

  He ignored the sounds of the brewing fight, half hoping their fighting would collapse the walls on top of them, wherever they were. When he reached another tunnel, he slowed. He had no idea the corridors beneath the castle had been so vast. He doubted any human archeologist knew either or there would be signs of excavation.

  Gliding soundlessly across the floor, part of the shadows that clung to his soul, he kept his distance when he spotted the familiar dark-haired female in front of him.

  “I know you’re there, Lucan.”

  Surprised she’d noticed him so easily, he hesitated. She’d never picked up on his presence in his phantom form as far as he knew, not if he hadn’t wanted her to. Had the troll’s blood that weakened his healing also affected his ability to go undetected?

  Briana didn’t look back or pause to see if he followed when she turned down another corridor. He kept his distance at first, keeping only the glow of the torch she carried in view, and a few tunnel twists and turns later, he eventually caught up to her.

  He couldn’t imagine they were beneath the castle any longer, but magic could be deceptive, and it had taken a lot of it to push Tintagel beyond the veil.

  Briana stopped, her gaze locked on the wall to her right. Her brows scrunched together, making her appear even younger, more vulnerable than her early twenties when she’d reached maturity and frozen into her immortality.

  “How long do you plan on following me?” She pressed a hand to the stone wall, her frown deepening.

  “I wasn’t following you.” He emerged from the shadows, his booted feet scuffing the stones beneath him as he took solid form once more.

  Briana set her torch down and tested the wall with both hands. “Do you feel that?” She shoved at the stone face and the wall shook in a way that shouldn’t have been possible regardless of the castle’s age or Briana’s strength.

  Brushing the loose hair from her face, she faced him, then gestured down the dark corridor for him to continue on his way.

  Leaving her wasn’t an option. Not with Kel and the Fae wandering around.

  He walked past her, then planted both palms on the wall next to where hers had been. “These old castles walls are stronger than they look.”

  She cast him a wary look, but lifted her hands to push again. Even with both of them shoving at the wall it took time for it to give way. It slid a few inches in and then either age or design made the stones buckle and crumble.

  They both fell through the opening, chunks of stone and mortar raining down on them. He lifted his head to ask Briana if she was okay, but the words never made it past his lips.

  The hidden room was a treasure trove. Literally.

  Mountains of gems and coins and weapons forged in precious metal competed with gems of every shape and size imaginable. Fabric that looked like spun waterfalls was piled two-men tall and twice as deep. Statues and artifacts foreign even to Lucan lined the walls.

  “Sweet Avalon,” Briana murmured. She staggered to her feet next to him, and they took a step deeper into the room.

  More gems were pressed right into the ceiling and walls.

  “Like a needle in a haystack, huh?” Briana stepped into the corridor long enough to grab the torch she’d set aside.

  “This isn’t a game.”

  She surveyed the mountains of treasure and glanced back at him. “And here I thought we were playing for bragging rights.” He scowled, and she rolled her eyes. “I was joking. Maybe you should spend more time looking for the gems and less pretending like we’re working as some kind of team. We’re competitors now, right?”

  The sound of gravel crunching underfoot had them both spinning around. He grabbed Briana and tugged her against the wall, out of immediate sight of the opening. She froze next to him, her gaze locked on the wall. She reached for something, her hand blocking the view. She gripped whatever it was and tugged, her elbow jerking back and knocking into a stand loaded down with ropes of gold and coins two inches thick.

  Voices carried down the corridor at the same time the stand that rocked precariously tilted to the side. His hand shot out to steady it, but the jewel encrusted chalice on top was already falling.

  He and Briana reached to catch the cup at the same time, and when his fingers grazed the chalice, pain punched through his head, and everything went dark.

  “We were told it was time to retire.”

  Briana peeked through the opening in her tent. She scowled over her shoulder at her
best friend, Sheara, then resumed her watch. In the distance a burst of flame lit up the summer night sky, and voices cheered.

  “If you disobey your parents…” Sheara warned.

  “Then I’ll be no different than my brothers.” Her brothers who were out there enjoying the festival despite the lateness of the hour.

  “Your father—”

  “Won’t know.” Briana turned from the door, frowning at the clothes Sheara had discarded in favor of preparing for bed. “You’re truly not coming?”

  “And have my own parents refuse to let me accompany you again?”

  “We’re no longer children,” Briana argued, but recognized the stubborn light in her friend’s eye. It didn’t matter that Briana was only months from settling into her immortality. Until then, she was expected to respect her parents’ wishes.

  Maybe if she was more like Sheara, Briana would be content to go to bed. Knowing her brothers had carried on far later than this when they’d been shy of freezing into their own immortal skin didn’t help. Even now the three were among the hundreds who’d gathered for the celebration. King Arthur’s presence had drawn an even bigger crowd than usual.

  “Don’t be too long. Your mother may very well check on us.” Sheara advised, knowing Briana hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility.

  Grinning, she crossed the tent to the coverings on the ground that would serve as a bed. She arranged two spare gowns under the covers, as though she’d chosen to sleep in her animal form.

  Despite her refusal to come, Sheara laughed and tucked herself in. “Be careful. There are many unfamiliar faces among the King’s men.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to insist no one would harm her for fear of facing her brothers, but knew better. The recent battles as Arthur’s half-sister, Morgana, waged war, with her son at the helm of their armies, had proven there were many in Avalon who couldn’t be trusted.

  “Sleep well and I will tell you of my adventures in the morning.” Grinning, Briana slipped from the tent, watching for her brothers should they have left the celebrations in favor of returning to their family’s tents.

  It was so unlikely, she nearly laughed out loud at the mere thought.

  Hearing voices nearby, Briana ducked around the side of the tent, then another and nearly ran smack into her own parents. Both stood with their backs to her, their laughter rising over the music from a group of musicians close by.

  With the sound of her wild heart drowned out by the flutes and drums, she retraced her steps, skirting the edge of the sprawling encampment, watching everyone from a careful distance until she was well away from her family.

  She shouldn’t have to skulk around the shadows while her brothers cavorted with friends and warriors alike. Had she been born a male, she would have been able to join the Guard already. She hadn’t yet forgiven Cian for leaving her behind when he’d spent years insisting a life of service was not for him. Meeting Arthur had changed everything for him—for all her brothers—and while they fought for Camelot and Avalon, she was expected to pursue more feminine pastimes.

  She kicked at a branch lying across the flattened grass beneath her feet. She paused beneath a twisting tree at the edge of the clearing, watching her clansmen laughing and drinking. Lots of drinking. Music followed her as she rounded the next gathering of tents. Voices mingled and carried, stories of recent skirmishes with Morgana and Mordred’s army competing with epic tales about the first Campaign.

  She lingered near a group of men, listening to the tales of a dragon gargoyle so fierce he’d nearly destroyed an entire legion of Mordred’s men. All too quickly the talk turned to other victories, ones that included bedding women.

  Having spent so much time with her brothers—both to their and their mother’s annoyance—she wasn’t nearly as innocent as Sheara when it came to men and women. Still, her ears were burning by the time she heard a familiar voice rise above the others in the gathered men.

  Her oldest brother, Cale, said something she didn’t catch, but judging by the raunchy laughter that followed, it was just as well. By the time she retreated deeper into the cover of trees, her animal half hungered to run nearly as much the woman hungered to live as she wished and not as expected.

  The darkness didn’t affect her vision as she wandered along familiar trails. Earlier that afternoon she’d found not one, but all three of her brothers when they’d questioned her tracking skills. For the third year in a row, she’d tracked each of them easily, enjoying their exasperation a little too much.

  Smiling over the memory of that, she edged down a mossy embankment leading to the edge of the lake. Though night had fallen hours before she’d been sent to bed, the warmth of the day lingered.

  Lifting her hair off the back of her neck, she picked her way down the steepest part of the hill.

  Splash.

  She froze, and scanned the surface of the lake. Nothing moved and no scent of nearby animals or gargoyles carried on the breeze.

  A fish then?

  Unconcerned, she sat beneath the branches of a tree that reached over the lake’s glassy surface. She unlaced her boots, letting her feet touch the dewy grass.

  Another splash sounded a moment before her gaze found the dark head that surfaced in the middle of the lake. Too far for her to make out the face, Briana remained still, waiting.

  Broad strokes carried him closer, and the man’s feet finally found the bottom of the lake. He stood, his body caught in the moonlight. Scars that might have been hidden in shadow were easy to make out, along with the muscles that defined a warrior’s body.

  He glanced up the hill, seemingly unaware of her, and she recognized the face of the boy who’d teased her nearly as much as her own brothers had.

  Lucan.

  At least four summers had passed since they’d last seen each other, and in moments it became painfully clear that Lucan was far from the childhood boy she remembered.

  He waded toward shore, and Briana immediately lowered her gaze, her face heating as he emerged from the water and strode to where his clothes lay in a pile on the narrow, rocky shoreline.

  She lifted her head enough to peek through her lowered lashes. She should let him know she was there, but what if he told her brothers he’d seen her wandering about? As much as she welcomed the opportunity to point out the unfairness, she knew from experience—namely her parents’ punishment—that it would be pointless.

  So she remained perfectly still, drawing on animal instinct.

  Only once more did he glance in her direction, and she didn’t dare look away, knowing even the slightest movement might betray her presence.

  Laughter broke the nocturnal quiet, but no one approached the lake. The nearby voices, loud and thick with slurred words, eventually faded to match the muted celebration in the meadow.

  Lucan dressed, leaving his shirt for last. The long scar on his back appeared almost silvery under the moon’s light, the mark twisting along the side of his spine and up to his shoulder.

  From training to be one of Arthur’s knights?

  She knew in a few days’ time he would take his vows and drink from the Grail that would make him immortal like the half-god, Arthur. The event was just one more reason so many had gathered at this year’s festival. Many more would likely follow Arthur on to Tintagel and then Camelot where the ceremony would be completed.

  Lucan picked up his sword and threw his shirt over his shoulder, leaving his chest bare as he made his way up the incline.

  Briana didn’t move until the soon-to-be immortal disappeared over the hill, likely headed back to join the celebration. She stared at the spot he’d disappeared from view for a long moment, half wishing she’d had the courage to let him know she was there.

  She finally stood, waiting for the breeze to confirm she was alone before walking down to the edge of the water. Lucan had certainly looked older than the last time they’d met, more seasoned, as her brothers had when they’d taken up arms for Arthur.

 
; He hadn’t been the only one to change, she thought, glancing down at herself. Would he have noticed she’d left her girlhood behind or still view her as a child the way her brothers did?

  She shook her head. It didn’t matter. He was gone now and she knew full well she’d be better off if their paths didn’t cross.

  Cool water rushed over her toes, and she sighed in pleasure, tipping her head back to stare at the full moon partially hidden by the trees across the lake.

  The breeze shifted, bringing with it the scent of someone directly behind her. A crack sounded and she tensed, prepared to whirl around and face the potential threat, only to be held in place by the arm at her waist.

  “You risk much being alone at night, kitten.”

  She barely recognized the voice, but the scent she knew.

  “Knighthood has made you almost as sneaky as a cat, Luc.” Few could sneak up on her like he’d just done. The wind had favored his approach.

  “A compliment from the sharp-witted Briana Callaghan?” He released her and stepped back.

  Laughing, she turned around, her heart giving a twist in her chest at the wide grin spreading across his face.

  “Be honest. You knew I was there,” he teased.

  Briana smiled, deciding not to correct him.

  “Skills such as yours would be invaluable to the Guard.” He stooped to pick up her boots as she walked out of the water.

  Unsure whether or not he was still teasing, she shook her head. “Tell that to my brothers.” With only a mournful glance at the lake, she walked with him up the hill.

  Careful not to let her gaze stray too long to the chest she found nearly as intriguing as the eyes that matched the night-green forest, she debated how to slip away from him.

  “They only seek to protect you,” Lucan said.

  “They would see me locked in my room with no more than a loom and my parents for company.”

  He laughed, the sound making the cat stir under her skin.

  “It’s true.” She playfully bumped him with her arm. “They want adventure and to fight for Avalon, and yet I’m expected to cling to my mother’s skirts like a child.”