Vaughn grabbed Briana’s arm. “We need to go.”
On instinct she jerked free of his hold. “Lucan—”
“We can’t help him if we’re in pieces. Even if he can’t kill us yet, he can make it hurt like hell.”
The cell rattled as Lucan shook the bars, looking ready to tear right through them. Black pooled in his eyes. “Run,” he snapped. “Now. Can’t…fight…it.”
Pushing past Vaughn, she locked her fingers over Lucan’s. “You have to try. Do you know when I fell in love with you? Hey,” she cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze, knowing it was too late. She was losing him. “It was the moment you took my hand, after the lake, when you didn’t laugh at me for wanting to join the Guard.”
“Briana,” the pained growl bordered on feral.
“That’s the moment you stole my heart.” He needed to know that, needed something to hold onto as he spiraled into a place she knew she couldn’t reach him.
“Back away from the door.” Each word became less human sounding.
Helplessness radiated through her, and she forced herself to retreat. “It’s okay. I’m going to be okay.” She needed him to believe that. Both of them needed to believe that.
The cell door flew off its hinges, coming close enough Briana felt the breeze of it just missing her and Vaughn’s head. Nessa stepped into the corridor, her sword drawn. She made no move to attack them.
Briana couldn’t say the same about the wraith. He launched himself out of the cell, his murderous gaze locked on her. By accident or intentionally, Vaughn ended up between them. The few seconds it took the wraith to throw Vaughn away from him, allowed the Korrigan to burst past them and vanish around the corner.
The wraith bared his teeth at Briana, his lower half completely phantom. He stalked her in a circle, and she kept both the cat and her fear locked down. She knew if she moved or betrayed the damning emotion, he’d be on her and she wouldn’t have a chance.
Vaughn hauled himself to his feet. “I’m sorry, B. I have to go. If I don’t win…” He winced, holding a hand to his side where the wraith had clawed him. “He has my sister, Briana, and I’m the only chance she’s got. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t even get the opportunity to ask who in the hell Vaughn was talking about. Eyeing Nessa, her friend bolted after the Korrigan, leaving her to deal with the wraith on her own.
Lucan had warned her not to count on her friends.
Not the time, she reminded herself, watching Nessa take off after Vaughn. For his sake, he needed to catch up with the Korrigan before the huntress caught up with him.
Between one beat and the next, the wraith lunged forward. Using the door Nessa had thrown, she pivoted and jammed it up between them. Shoving it at him, she spun around to run—and slammed right into Kel.
The dragon’s hands came up to grab her. She was too distracted by the sight of the wraith’s phantom form bleeding through the cell door to fight Kel off. Now he’d have his chance to see her torn apart.
Murderous claws emerged from the shadow bearing down on her.
“Go.” Kel shoved her behind him. “I’ll slow him down.”
She wanted to tell him to stay out of the wraith’s way, but the very real possibility that Kel running interference might be the only thing standing between her and the wraith fulfilling the Korrigan’s command changed her mind.
Sprinting in the opposite direction, she focused on sifting through the scents, isolating the smell of rotting oranges to track the Korrigan. She refused to consider what would happen if her signed death warrant didn’t expire when someone—even Vaughn—caught up with Korrigan and ended the round.
An unholy roar rocked the walls somewhere behind her, but she didn’t dare look back. Didn’t even slow down until a curvy blonde dressed in a leather pants and a long dark jacket, lips stained blood-red, stepped into Briana’s path, stopping her cold.
Sweet Avalon.
Morgana.
Lucan knew Briana wasn’t dead.
He could have hurt her, maybe even killed her, but he hadn’t. She’d gotten away, saved by the last immortal Lucan would have ever expected.
Kel stood opposite him, bleeding all over the courtyard from the wounds the wraith had inflicted in Camelot’s dungeon only moments ago.
“Get out of my way,” Lucan snarled, having no problem taking another chunk out of the dragon he’d been fully prepared to kill the moment they’d been invited to participate in the Gauntlet.
“She’s gone.”
“No!”
Lucan whirled from the wall in the courtyard he’d been prepared to scale if that’s what it took to get back to Camelot. He refused to believe the competition was over, that Briana had been somehow left behind when Vaughn caught up with Treasach’s Moon and ended the round.
He faced Nessa. “We have to go back for her.” Lucan glared at the rest of the immortals watching him, waiting for one of them to so much as twitch…
The homicidal compulsion to kill Briana may have evaporated the moment the round ended, but not the urgency that continued to hammer him. He needed to find Briana. Now.
He thought he’d been prepared for the Korrigan when he stumbled across her cell, but he hadn’t been expecting Nessa. The huntress had been the first to fall prey to the manipulative bitch Morgana had locked in the dungeon. The Korrigan would still be locked up if Lucan had his way—or dead if the wraith had his—but like every other prize they’d retrieved, Treasach’s Moon had disappeared at the end of the round.
Just like Briana.
“You heard what Maeve said,” Nessa added, referring to the god’s dismissal of Briana’s disappearance as an unforeseen complication.
Ignoring the huntress, he stalked toward Vaughn. “You should have stayed with her.”
It took the wolf effort to climb to his feet, his hand still pressed to the wound left from the wraith’s claws. “I’m not the one who tried to kill her.”
The wraith snarled, knowing the gargoyle was right, and that only made the anger eating through Lucan a thousand times worse.
“She might be better off,” Elena began, falling silent the moment Lucan glared at her, unable to suppress the wraith’s certainty that Briana belonged with them. Always.
We promised her.
He shoved his hands through his hair. “There has to be a way.”
“Win the Gauntlet,” Vaughn drawled. “Barter the sword for her freedom.” He sat back down, sucking in a breath as he pulled his shirt away to check his wound.
“He can’t do that,” Nessa interrupted, crossing the courtyard to stand opposite Lucan. “That would mean betraying Arthur. You can’t do it.”
Fuck, they didn’t even know for sure the gods had Excalibur. “So I just leave her there?” Did the huntress even hear what she was saying?
Elena glanced from Vaughn to Lucan. “We freed one prisoner,” the sorceress reminded them. “We could do it again.”
“We?” Vaughn scoffed.
If the dragon hadn’t been between them, Lucan would have slaughtered the wolf.
“Unless Morgana allowed Treasach’s Moon to be taken.” Bran spoke up for the first time, saying what had already occurred to Lucan when he realized there hadn’t been a single guard watching over any of the prisoners.
Even Morgana wasn’t that cocky.
But none of that explained what the hell had happened to Briana. He knew he hadn’t hurt her, and the fact that the dragon had been the one protecting her was all that kept Lucan for lashing out when Kel eased back to lean against the wall and said, “All of this is assuming she’s still alive.”
“She is.” He knew that with a staggering certainty he clung to in the face of what that Korrigan might have compelled him to do. It didn’t even mattered that he hadn’t been with her during the competition. He’d still posed a threat to her.
Would always pose a threat.
Whatever it took, he would find a way to free her from Camelot—and then he’d fre
e her from the mating bond.
He wouldn’t allow her to be hurt again because of him. She wouldn’t have been anywhere near Camelot if he hadn’t talked to her that night at the Wolf’s Den in Vegas. If he hadn’t gotten near the penthouse that night, half hoping for a glimpse of her, she would have escaped the gods notice.
At every turn he’d made the selfish decision where Briana was concerned, stealing another moment, drawing out their time together until she was the one to suffer over and over. He couldn’t do it again. Once freed from the mating bond, she would be happy and safe.
She had to be.
For once the wolf was right. Win the Gauntlet and win the kind of power that he could use to get Briana back.
And it would only cost him everything he’d once believed in.
Lucan eyed the wall again, vaguely aware of the others leaving. Everyone but Kel.
“She wouldn’t want you to risk it.”
The dragon was the last one who should care what happened to him or Briana. What was he after?
“If she’s still alive—”
Lucan snarled.
Kel sighed, pushing away from the wall. “Then it’s for a reason. It’s your job to keep your shit together until you figure out what that reason is.”
If he wasn’t still struggling to deal with the fact that they’d come back without Briana, his head just might have exploded at Kel’s unexpected advice. Lucan had been just as shocked as every other knight and gargoyle on the field the day Kel had deserted them, but he didn’t know what to do with this.
Kel shrugged as though it didn’t matter if Lucan understood his motives. “I get it, you know. She changes everything. Makes you feel like someone else, someone you used to be before you became the monster you hate more than everyone else.”
Lucan watched Kel look at the wall like the dragon had thought about climbing it more often than he had.
“She makes you almost believe,” Kel continued, “for just a minute, that if you can love her enough, maybe it will make up for your mistakes.” He met Lucan’s gaze. “And you’d do anything to make that minute last for an eternity.”
The unexpected exchange rattled around in Lucan’s head long after Kel had left him alone, the dragon’s insight hitting much too close to home.
She’s ours.
Ignoring both the wraith and the gut-wrenching certainty that he’d never be able to let her go, Lucan forced himself to think about the final round of the competition, and eliminating every obstacle standing between him and winning.
“You didn’t eat your breakfast.”
Briana turned from the balcony that laid Camelot out before her, and faced the sorceress who had stunned her by putting her in a guest room instead of a cell.
Morgana took a taste of something on the platter that sat untouched on the table near the massive poster bed that could have slept half a dozen people. “I can see why.” Her nose shriveled up, the gesture not detracting from the face that would have been splashed across every woman’s magazine if the sorceress had craved a life on modeling runways.
“I’m still here.” Had been since the others had been snatched away, leaving her at the sorceress’s mercy. Morgana hadn’t volunteered any explanation for how she’d interfered with the brand on Briana’s hip that the gods had claimed kept them in control.
A lie?
“Indeed you are.” Morgana sprawled on the lounge chair opposite the balcony. The sorceress looked…bored.
“Why?”
They’d already played this game, and Briana was no closer to figuring out what Morgana planned to do with her in the end. It was driving her crazy not knowing what was happening with Lucan. Had the compulsion to kill worn off or was he losing himself to the madness?
“You interest me.”
“The last time I interested someone I ended up in the Gauntlet.” She’d already shared some details of how she’d come to be in Camelot, not seeing the point in hiding it, and Morgana hadn’t been particularly surprised.
She snorted. “The Gauntlet changes nothing.”
Briana hadn’t mentioned the prize was Excalibur. Supposedly. She tipped her head, watching the sorceress bounce a foot. “Why did you kill Gwen?”
Morgana sat up, grinning. “No one has dared mentioned Guinevere’s name in my presence in centuries.”
“Do I win a prize?” she muttered, half hoping she might provoke the sorceress into revealing her intentions.
Morgana burst out laughing. “You are the first one to talk back to me in a very long time, kitty-cat. I’ve missed it.” Rising to her feet, the sorceress strolled around the room. “I see now why Maeve chose to include you.” It was the first time the sorceress had mentioned either of the gods behind the Gauntlet, and it couldn’t be a coincidence.
Someone had to be feeding her information. One of the competitors somehow? Or the gods themselves? Briana couldn’t imagine what the point of the latter would be, but little of the competition had made sense up until now anyway. How could she expect that Morgana’s possible involvement would be straightforward?
“So what’s in it for you, kitty-cat? You don’t strike me as the type to enter the Gauntlet for power.”
Briana cocked her head. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
Morgana pursed her lips as though she wasn’t sure. “So not power or revenge,” she tacked on. Her shoulders drooped. “Don’t tell me it has anything to do with love.” She held up a hand. “Don’t even answer. Only a woman foolish enough to fall in love would pace around the room every other second like you’ve been doing since you got here.”
“I guess it’s not surprising that you’re spying on me.”
“What kind of hostess would I be if I didn’t?”
“Hostess? Some might say warden.”
Morgana pointed a finger at her. “You’re fun, and a little too bright to waste time micromanaging your brothers when you’re not playing with your glamour toys.”
“You’ve been doing your homework.” Whatever doubts Briana had about Morgana knowing much about her had been officially put to rest.
“Well I was thinking of hiring someone to upgrade my security system. I’ve recently had some unexpected trespassers.”
“I’m not sure you could afford me.” It seemed a safer response than asking if the sorceress had been sipping her own potions. There wasn’t a job in this realm or the next that she’d take from Morgana.
“You’d be surprised what I could offer you.”
Sensing that Morgana wasn’t about to elaborate just yet, Briana glanced at the untouched food on the table. “Will I have company at dinner as well?”
“Perhaps.” The sorceress smiled again, a chilling edge to her curved lips that kept Briana unsettled. “If you’re still alive by then.”
“Why haven’t you killed me already?”
The sorceress shrugged and it was the first sincere gesture Briana picked up on.
She took a seat on the lounge Morgana had abandoned. “How long did you keep Gwen alive?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Morgana winked, making it difficult to gauge whether the sorceress was trying to be likeable—which flew in the face of everything Briana thought she knew about her—or just screwing with her head.
The latter seemed the most likely.
She watched the sorceress pick up a few trinkets as she strolled around, the last one in particular snagging her attention.
“This was Mordred’s room,” Briana realized, voicing the discovery aloud.
“It was. It’s been empty far too long.”
Briana stared at her. What had possessed Avalon’s most powerful sorceress to set Briana up in her dead son’s bedroom? She wanted to attribute it to some creepy part of the plan to rattle Briana, but somehow that didn’t fit. Morgana was much too powerful to waste time manipulating people that way.
“You miss him,” she guessed.
Morgana arched a brow. “Am I portrayed as so unfeeling I couldn’t p
ossibly mourn the son I adored?”
Briana hadn’t thought about it. She had been too busy, like every other gargoyle, mourning the loss of friends and family and trying to adjust to a life lived only in darkness, hours of sun warming only their stone exteriors.
“When did you find your mate?” the sorceress mused.
Rising, Briana turned toward the balcony where the sun had come up a few hours ago. “Recently.”
“And does he love you?”
There was no hesitation on her part. “Yes.”
Morgana crossed to the wardrobe that still held men’s clothing Briana now knew had to be Mordred’s. “How do you know?”
“How do you know the sun will rise tomorrow?” There was no way to put her belief in Lucan into words. She only wished she’d seen past her own fear and Lucan’s determination to protect her earlier. Maybe they would’ve had more time together.
“An interesting comparison for a gargoyle. So your mate, who loves you, has he lied to you yet? Hurt you? Betrayed you?” Morgana tapped each fingertip in succession. “It’s what they do.”
“Are we still talking about me?”
Morgana arched a brow. “Clever kitty-cat.” She flipped through the clothes hanging inside. Her fingers lingered on a familiar shirt, the collar ripped, though someone had sewn it back together.
It took Briana a moment to place it, though it had been far more stained with blood the last time she’d seen it. “That belonged to Arthur.” Briana was sure he’d been wearing it in the illusion of the battle at Camlann.
Another coincidence? Or had it been exactly what he’d worn the day of that fateful battle and the sorceress had somehow gotten hold of it.
Morgana closed the door on the wardrobe.
“You miss him too.” Briana was too stunned by the possibility to think through the consequence of sharing that particular suspicion aloud.
Morgana turned around slowly, the move eerily lethal, though she made no move to attack. “My brother deserved his fate. He betrayed his family. He betrayed me.”
Betrayed how? Curious, but knowing that she risked riling the sorceress too much by probing too deeply about Arthur, she went with, “And Gwen? Did she deserve her fate?”
Primal Temptation pg-4 Page 25
