Briana dropped to her knees, and the water rode up to her chest. “I apologize for the intrusion, Lady of the Lake.”
Lady of the Lake. The four words at the bottom of the map.
The white form made up of threads of light and menacing shadows, dispersed, revealing a woman who looked no older than her early twenties and dressed entirely in white. Waves of long black hair fell halfway down her back, her narrowed eyes so dark they reminded Lucan of the wraith’s.
“And you are?”
“Late to the show,” Elena put in.
A wave nearly twice the size of the sorceress slammed into her, knocking her back in the water. She came up sputtering.
“Briana Callaghan.”
The Lady of the Lake, an immortal shrouded in more mystery than the gods, tipped her head, regarding Briana with interest. “Another gargoyle?” She glanced at Kel, dismissing the dragon who didn’t move except for the flaring of his nostrils. “And your business with me?”
“We’re competing in the Gauntlet.” Again Elena answered.
This time the water came from behind the sorceress, lifting her off her feet and holding her immobile as the Lady of the Lake turned in her direction. “I know well who you are fledgling, but unless you wish to die in this competition here and now, you will be silent.” She faced Briana once more. “Show me.”
Briana rose, tugging at her pants and revealing the mark of the Gauntlet branded on her hip.
The ancient one’s gaze moved to Lucan where he continued to try to reach Briana. “He’s protective of you,” she mused. “Unusual.”
Something in her eyes had Briana growling.
“I have no interest in your mate, gargoyle.” She released her hold on Elena at the same moment the water receded, draining back into the earth faster than seemed possible.
With the water gone, Lucan slogged across the muddy ground to reach Briana’s side.
The Lady of the Lake sighed, her expression so still Lucan almost missed the blink of sadness that crossed her face. “I will honor my vow.”
Briana glanced at him, equally confused. Vow?
A length of chain appeared at Briana’s feet, and he nodded to where the thick ropes of silver all but hummed with old magic. She glanced from the chains to the Lady of the Lake. “What are they for?”
“Not what. Who.” The Lady of the Lake’s gaze shifted to Lucan. “He will not be taken without them.”
“I don’t understand.” The chains offered no clue as to who they were meant for.
Briana frowned. “Where do we find him?” Whoever he is, went unsaid.
Shaking her head, the ancient one burst apart in a blinding white cloud of light, receding into the trees like a fog moving back out to sea.
Alone once more, the other immortals digested what just happened, looking at each other—and then Kel charged.
Lunging forward, Lucan struck the dragon’s body, barely slowing him down. But it gave Briana the few seconds she needed to snap the chains off the ground.
One minute he was trying to hold off a wall bent on trampling both he and Briana to get the Lady of the Lake’s chains, and the next he was slamming into an entirely different one.
Lucan stumbled back, spinning around in his room at the mansion. Briana wasn’t with him.
The wraith stirred, claws raking along Lucan’s awareness wanting to find her, but not nearly as much as the man still reeling from her confession.
He should have figured it out on his own, should have realized her feelings were as genuine as his own. If hadn’t been so determined to protect her from himself…
He stopped, bracing his hands on the door, old doubts surfacing.
We’ll find a way.
Her words haunted him now. It didn’t matter how certain he was that Rhiannon would find a way to end him before she’d ever willingly release him, he refused to let Briana down again.
If he won the Gauntlet—
No. He cut off that line of thinking. No more what ifs. The only woman to get under his skin, to mark a place so deep inside him he’d have to cut out his heart to loosen her hold, wanted to be with him. Loved him.
And that was more than enough.
Despite the ties to Rhiannon, for the first time in centuries he felt free. Because of Briana.
He wrenched open the door, took a few steps into the hall, stopped.
Briana walked toward him, every tentative step taking way too long. He couldn’t wait anymore.
He strode toward her, extinguishing the distance that separated them, determined that nothing else would part them again.
She met him halfway, leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her mouth came down on his, her hands caging his face, the fierce tenderness threatening to take him to the floor.
His hands tangled in the hair at her nape, both of them tired, cold and wet—and he’d never known a better moment in his life.
Breathing hard, her eyes were shiny as they met his. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come to me or if you’d changed your mind.”
He silenced her with another kiss, dragging it out with long, thorough sweeps of lips and tongue until he’d convinced them both he was done pushing her away. She belonged with him.
Always had.
“I’m scared too,” she murmured, reading him too easily.
He was pretty sure that scared didn’t come close to describing the fear that drilled through his middle. The thought of something happening to her before had scared him. But now…
The wraith snarled, hungry to destroy a world that would dare hurt her in any way.
He kissed her again, carefully touching his lips to hers, more testing the waters than diving in. Everything between them had always felt rushed, stolen moments snatched from their real lives, and he didn’t want to rush this one.
He could never undo what happened in the past, couldn’t wipe out the memories of hurting her, but he could replace every single one of them with something so much better.
Her arms tightened around him, eating up every millimeter of space between them. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Tucking his face against her throat, breathing deeply, he carried her inside.
Chapter Thirteen
Briana held on for dear life. If she could feel the weight of Lucan’s arms, the slow caress of his mouth, then maybe she could convince herself this wasn’t another illusion. They were truly together.
It didn’t matter if the odds were stacked against them—a territorial goddess, a competition that could kill them before it was all over, her brothers—he was here because he wanted to be. Finally.
Lucan set her beside the bed, her body sliding down his in what felt like slow motion, touching every part of him. He left her long enough to close the door and then he was back. He turned his face into her hair, then her cheek, her neck.
She didn’t know how he could move so slow, touch so soft and still seem like he wanted to devour her whole. She could feel his hunger in the tremble of his fingers skimming down and up her back as he tugged her shirt off, in the way he kept constant contact with her skin, in the devastating gaze that rarely left her face.
It should have been too much, staring into eyes that revealed…everything. There were no secrets left, no misunderstandings. Everything was different and yet nothing had changed. She couldn’t get enough air, yet felt energized, alive in a way she only knew when they were together.
Lucan’s hands went to the button on her pants, working them over her hips and down, inch by inch. On his knees, he tugged off her footwear and freed her legs of the wet material, then folded his arms around her waist. He pressed his face to her abdomen and drew her even closer.
Neither of them moved for a long moment, and never in her immortal life had an embrace so humbled or rocked her. Centuries of bottled-up emotion and excitement ignited in her stomach—and that was before he opened his mouth on her skin.
A kiss. Then another. And another. Then he slid her u
nderwear down and off. He nudged her back to the bed, and she let her shaky knees go and sat.
Broad shoulders widened her legs, then more kisses—wet, teasing and setting every nerve ending on fire—followed up the inside of each thigh, his lips slowing, lingering the higher he went.
“Don’t hold your breath.” A carnal grin curved his lips, and she realized she’d been doing exactly that, every cell in her body waiting.
He bent his head, parting her folds with a long, silken stroke of his tongue. Gripping the edge of the bed, she squirmed beneath him. The next pass was even softer than the last, so soft she could barely stand it.
She lifted her hands to touch him, and he caught her wrists, pressing them back to the bed.
“Keep them there.”
The rough command unleashed a rush of heat that wrapped around her body, pulling taut with every lazy flick of his tongue, every swirl across her clit.
He pushed a finger inside her, then two, and she nearly came off the bed.
“Lucan.” She could almost feel his hands tightening around hers, as if he still held them, leaving her at his mercy.
His lips moved over and across her, his tongue curling around the aching knot that pulsed in wicked pleasure. One minute she had a hold of the sensations rioting inside her and the next they were ripped away in a feverish landslide.
She sank her hands into his hair, holding him to her as she lifted her hips, her body spinning tighter, tighter. A hard thrust of his fingers, another brutal pass of his tongue over her clit and a bone-deep shudder snapped through her.
Crying out, her eyes met his and the pleasure turned explosive, triggering an orgasm so intense she screamed out her release.
Pure male satisfaction crossed his face, and she melted into the bed as Lucan resumed kissing the inside of her thighs. Her slowing heartbeat picked back up the moment he stood, his hand going to his pants.
Needing to please him the way he did her, she sat up. She made quick work of getting his shirt off and then finishing with his pants and boots. Somewhere in the middle Lucan stripped off her bra.
“This one is new.” She touched the biggest scar on his shoulder.
“One of Morgana’s trolls.”
Rising to her feet, she circled him, remembering the marks that had both intrigued and worried her so very long ago. He’d barely known an existence without war and death, and if it took the rest of her immortal life, she vowed that he would.
He would know what it was to smile first thing in the morning and laugh until his stomach hurt. Days of it. Weeks. Years.
And he would know what it felt like to be loved first, last and every moment in between.
She pressed her lips to his skin, wishing she could replace every scar with a better memory, a sweeter one, a hotter one.
Watching his face, she closed her fingers around the length of his cock, and a sound of approval rumbled in his chest. From base to tip, she tugged as light and teasing as he had. The feel of him in her hand, smooth and hard, aroused her as much as if he continued to stroke between her legs.
Lucan’s eyes slid shut, his hands clenching at his sides. Rising up on her toes, she ran her tongue across his bottom lip, slipping inside to graze the tip of his.
He nipped at her mouth. “Don’t tease, kitten.”
She grinned. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” She moved to her knees.
Pumping slow and easy, she licked the length of him, and then pulled him into her mouth.
Lucan let his head fall back, sinking his hands into her hair.
Dead.
Someone had done the impossible and finally put him out of his misery. And now he was in heaven. Or at least on his way. And he knew without a doubt she was going to be the one to take him there.
He watched her tongue slide the length of his cock, her lips part as she closed her mouth over the head.
Ah, fuck.
Ruthlessly seductive, she took him deeper, the lush walls of her mouth sucking slow and easy. He tried not to tighten his fingers in her hair, tried not to quicken the pace of her decadent mouth taking him in, fought it to the point his legs locked and his ribs threatened to crack under the force of his beating heart.
She moaned around him, the slick suction deepening, and then he couldn’t help but close his hand over hers, pumping a little faster. The need to touch her for just a second rapidly turned into ten, then thirty, then sixty as he moved with the carnal pace she set—slower, then faster, then slower again, the most incredible torture he could imagine.
“Briana.” He was too close to coming.
Another long, lazy lick and she glanced up at him.
Cursed? Not even close. How could he consider himself anything but lucky with her on her knees and her heart in her eyes?
There still hadn’t been enough time to process that she was his. All he had to do was find a way to keep her, and prove to her every day after how damn lucky he was to have her in his life.
Dragging in a breath, he moved with her mouth, sliding between her lips and pushing deeper into the wet heat. The heady promise of release rolled across the back of his neck. He groaned and pulled her to him, laying her on the bed and following her down.
The bluest eyes he’d known stared up at him, and this time he felt no fear that he would drive her away.
She pinched his cheek, and he caught her fingers, bringing them to his mouth. “What was that for?”
“Making sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Shouldn’t you have pinched yourself?”
She scoffed, her smile playful. “It would probably hurt.”
He growled and rolled her on top of him, pulling her down to nip at her neck.
“Do it,” she murmured, offering her blood, part demand, part sultry plea.
“Last time—”
“I was fine,” she insisted. Gripping his shoulders, she moved her hips, rubbing the wetness between her legs along the head of his cock.
He gritted his teeth, the pleasure steamrolling through him. “You slept for hours.”
“Didn’t you wonder why I never went to stone? It wasn’t the venom in your bite that weakened me.” She shifted to rub against him again. “Think about it.”
How was he supposed to think about anything when her breasts were plastered to his chest, her nipples hard? Without even trying he could imagine the feel of them in his mouth, his tongue curling around the dark pink tips.
He gripped her hips. Gods, he could barely reason with himself, let alone her when all he could think about was touching her. He wasn’t sure if that made him weak or just fucking crazy about her. And it sure as hell didn’t explain why he dragged her up his body so he could reach one dark pink tip.
She sighed deeply, and he sucked her harder between his lips. “I want to feel you inside me.”
He had her on her back before she even finished speaking.
Every part of him burned for her. He hovered over her, bending to capture her mouth as he pushed inside her.
And then the world stopped. Complete and utter standstill.
He was damn sure he stopped breathing, knew he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence even if his life depended on it.
Sweet Avalon.
He told himself to go slow, every flex of his hips, every thrust, every single moment that he held still, a part of her, the pleasure deliciously excruciating.
“Luc.” Her back bowed, her hands going over her head to snare the blankets beneath them.
Slipping from her body, he gently bit on her nipple, letting the seeking pressure drag another cry from her lips. Thighs parted, a sexy flush darkening her skin, her dark hair spread out beneath her, she was still every bit the wild thing who had crept into his life with the same unexpected intensity that had her clinging to him.
And it had all started when she held that wooden sword at his throat, taunting him about embarrassing him further.
“Luc, please.”
She didn’t need to tell
him what she wanted. He wanted it too. Wanted to dive off the edge, crash into the pleasure that would snatch the breath from his lungs as she caught him all over again.
He couldn’t have stopped it any more than he’d been able to prevent the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t do that night—fall in love with her.
Impatient, she shifted beneath him, letting him slide even deeper. It couldn’t have been more than a millimeter, maybe two, and he shot to a whole new level of scorching need that stunned him.
He pumped his hips, letting the need for release dictate the mindless rhythm that consumed him. He slipped a hand beneath her hips, holding her above the mattress and making them both moan at the exquisite friction.
“Harder,” she breathed.
More than willing to accommodate, Lucan drove into her, and felt his control start to slip.
He fought the instinct, not wanting to drink from her so soon and risk the fragile bond—
Briana sank her teeth into the curve between his neck and shoulder, the bite hard and savage enough to make him clench his jaw, but it didn’t slow him down for even a second.
Every part of him roared in acceptance of the predatory brand that marked him as hers in every way, and he thrust inside her again. One more hot, slick glide that rocketed him to a mind-blowing release.
By the gods.
“Lucan?”
He opened his eyes, not sure how long he’d been lost to the almost violent orgasm. Briana cupped his cheek, and he turned his face into her palm. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Probably not,” she sighed, grinning.
Growling, he bit her hand in mock punishment, letting her teasing keep him from backsliding to a dark place. He’d lived in the shadows long enough. “I love you, Briana.”
“How did you get the nickname Lancelot?” she asked sometime later, her voice sleepy, content.
Drawing circles across her hip, he shrugged. “I was good with a spear?”
Briana arched a brow, not buying the easy answer. “Is that so?” She slipped a hand under the sheet, feeling her way up the inside of his thigh. Right when he thought she’d purposely misunderstood what he meant by spear, her fingers wiggled across his skin.
Primal Temptation pg-4 Page 23
