The Pendragon Legacy: Sons Of Camelot Book One

by Sarah Luddington

  “Make me forget. I wanted you last night, I wanted you more this morning. I want to feel you inside me,” he said. Those beautiful eyes were like glass doors into a man’s heart. His angry defiance, his fear and prejudice, his isolation from his family were there and so much more.

  I gently kissed his mouth. He groaned and reached for my face, holding it tight. I continued to kiss him while laying him down on the bed and I slowly straddled his hips, lying flat over him and making him feel my weight. His hands travelled down my back past my waist and further, pushing me tight to his body. His hips pushed up and his desire felt hard against my belly. We continued to kiss but the thrusting desire of his hips grew more urgent with each passing moment.

  Pulling back slowly I stroked his soft hair from his face. The scarring was bad, really bad but I forced down the anger it caused. “We don’t have to –”

  “Shut up, Holt,” he said quickly. “Don’t try and talk me out of this again. I don’t care how you make this happen but I want to feel it, feel you. I want to know and I don’t want to think, no more thinking. Make love to me, fuck me, hurt me, I don’t care!” He cried out his confused passion but didn’t fight against my weight.

  I remembered the heated fast passion of the previous night and a part of me wanted to match his lust but no – it shouldn’t be like that. This should be about exploration and driving him to the point of insanity with desire. I kissed his mouth briefly, then his neck and spent time drawing him into a world of physical sensation with hot breaths, bites and kisses. Down onto his chest, which rose and fell swiftly, tormenting each nipple until he tangled his fingers into my hair and pushed my mouth down harder into the muscle, making me bite him. It would mark but I bit him again, harder, deeper and he groaned my name, his grasp of my hair weakening. I devoured his ribs and the solid mass of muscle over his tight waist. Then I unlaced his hose and pulled down one side to reveal his hip bone. I worried at it and he gasped, flexing up toward my mouth, wanting more. I obliged.

  I bit both sides with equal savagery but didn’t touch his cock, in fact it remained caught in the leather of his hose. I wanted to make him tell me to suck him, lick him, draw him into my body.

  He whimpered. “Please, Holt. I want more. I want it all. Please...”

  I grinned and with deft, practiced hands I pulled his cock free and licked up it in one movement. Dark hair sprang around his phallus and balls, his length and breadth were perfect for me, neither too much nor too little and I’d make fine use of my mouth. I lowered my head and looked up his body as he watched me with a mixture of desire and confusion; I needed to chase the confusion away. I closed my mouth over his head and rolled my tongue over the smooth surface. His head flopped back on the mattress and he groaned my name again.

  I smiled and continued to work my magic. When I thought he’d grown used to my mouth I cupped his balls in my hand and played with them while gradually moving my fingers closer to their goal. His breathing came quickly and with desperation, his hips undulating hard and fast, making it hard for me not to choke. When his hands balled into fists on the bedding I slipped my middle finger inside him and pushed down, hitting that forbidden spot for male pleasure.

  “Fuck me,” he cried out. “Gods, don’t fucking stop whatever you’re doing. No, stop, I can’t hold on,” he gasped.

  I withdrew my mouth from his cock but continued to push into his body with my finger.

  “Kiss me,” he ordered, grabbing my hand and pulling me up his body. I rose, but kept my busy finger inside his tight dark core and we kissed. He bit my lip, thrust his tongue into my mouth harshly and clutched me, wanting something he didn’t know how to get from me.

  “I can make you come with no more contact than this,” I said, giving him a final escape clause. “I can suck you until you come.” I pushed into him further and added another finger. “Or we can go all the way.”

  “It hurts but it’s amazing,” he whispered, looking at me as if I were a god – he made me feel like a god. “I want to feel you come, I want to give you the same pleasure you gave me last night.”

  I smiled and nodded. We kissed and I worked with my fingers until I felt he was ready. Galahad took the oil off me, coated my raging hard-on with almost submissive gentleness and shyly looked up at me as he pushed his own fingers into my body. I was kneeling at the time on the mattress near his hips and I almost fell over in shock.

  “Good?” he asked quietly, those dark eyes now black in the growing gloom of a dying day.

  “Very,” I whispered, holding the beam over our head for balance as I rode his fingers for a while. I sighed in contentment at the sensations rippling through me over and over, growing slowly stronger and more desperate. When I’d taken enough pleasure from him, I gently pulled his hand away and lay him down once more. His knees opened wide for me and without any more words I knelt between his legs. I lifted his hips slightly with one arm holding the weight and slowly lowered myself over his body, guiding my way in so I didn’t startle him or worry him with unaccustomed fiddling.

  I found him open and ready. I pushed, Galahad gasped. “That’s more than I was expecting,” he managed.

  “Slowly, love. You take over,” I said.

  “No, move, more, in, more,” he whispered, with his eyes closed and his head moving from side to side as if in a fever. I did as instructed. I pushed and he groaned. I held still for a moment and he rocked back and forth. “More,” he said.

  More I gave and then his body relented and I won the fight. I slipped into Galahad and rather than be able to continue to use my sexual experience I found myself unable to think or breathe. I became one with Galahad du Lac and every fibre in my body cried out in relief.

  He took hold of my face and our lips merged again, his tongue deep and probing. My body became a thing of instinct, moving into and out of his to celebrate our passion and desire. We moved as one, in union, in harmony and it grew and grew.

  “Yes,” he cried out. No tricks, no power between us but our own brutal bodies. Bodies used for war – trained for death – and now speaking to each other of love.

  I lost control of the rising orgasm. The muscles in my body corded and I groaned low in my throat, my breath coming in short bursts. Galahad cried out as instinct and desire drove me hard into his body and he clutched at me, pulling me down and tight to his chest. His hips jerked hard against me and I held him tight – so very tight and the hard core of his body pushed against my solid belly and he shuddered, the orgasm ripped out of his control at last.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  He took a great shuddering breath, burying his head between my neck and shoulder. I held him and we rolled onto our sides. I kissed his hair and felt his back heave. He suddenly moved out of my hands and away from my body, actively pushing against my chest. I let him go.

  He sat over the edge of the bed and hunched his back, holding his head in his hands, his elbows on his thighs and a messy curtain of black hair hiding everything from me. His back juddered and a small sound escaped him but what it meant I didn’t know.

  I remained very still, watching him, wary of his reaction to our lovemaking. I didn’t know what to do. If I reached to comfort him would he welcome it or fight me? If he hated what we’d just done we’d both be in trouble. He’d probably kill me and I’d probably let him. The thought of his rejection made my own chest heave with agony.

  Long silent moments passed and the monster of fear grew large. I couldn’t face it and I couldn’t deal with the rejection.

  “I’ll leave you alone,” I whispered and finally shifted to climb off the bed.

  His hand whipped out and he grabbed my arm but didn’t move anything else. His grasp was so strong it hurt. “Don’t.”

  I tried to look through all that hair to see his face but it lay in a fine mist, obscuring everything. “Galahad?” I asked.

  “Don’t leave. I just... I just need some time.” He sounded rough – more like his father than himself.

 
I relaxed slightly so he knew I wasn’t trying to escape and I waited, our lust cooling on my body.

  He finally spoke but he didn’t move and he didn’t let go of my arm. “It’s so different,” he said. “To Valla. Being with you is so different. Despite all her strength she cannot be like you.”

  I frowned but said what I hoped was the right thing. “That’s kind of the point.”

  He turned his head at last but I still couldn’t see through the hair. I took a risk and reached for the curtain to hook it behind his shoulder. I moved slowly and for a moment he flinched back but I tried again and shifted the fine mist from his face, the unscarred half. He was so beautiful he stole my breath. His dark eye watched me and I smiled gently, hoping to encourage him to talk.

  “Let’s talk,” I said softly, coaxingly. “How do you feel? Is this... Am I what you want?” I asked, feeling brave suddenly – or maybe desperate to know the truth before the monsters in my head grew larger.

  “It’s very different,” he said again.

  I half laughed. “I think I need a bit more if I’m going to understand how you feel.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I’ve been taught this is wrong, that you are corrupt. I have let you corrupt me.”

  Fuck, that wasn’t a helpful sentence. His self-loathing was taking over. “Galahad, for me that felt like the most wonderful experience. I adore you and being able to make love to you was a privilege. I know you think this is wrong but I never will. There is no evil in love no matter who it is between, so long as both people are consenting.”

  He swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to feel.”

  If I hoped that making love to him would turn him forever to my side of the fence I’d been deluded. “You don’t have to like it or hate it – it’s just an experience you can add to a list of experiences.”

  Finally he turned to me completely and I bravely stared into his flawed face. “You were inside me, holding me, loving me – like I’ve done with Valla.”

  “Yes,” I said, allowing the generalisation to stand. I was fairly certain it wasn’t the same thing but I didn’t want to argue.

  “I don’t know how I feel about that,” he said.

  I knew then I was losing him. “You can feel whatever you want to feel, Galahad, but what I did I did with love.”

  He nodded. “I know, I know and I love you. I do... I just... I don’t know if it’s the right kind of love. I don’t understand.”

  I tried to smile but it wobbled because of the rising agony. “You are so young in some ways and the last few weeks have been a constant torrent of experiences and emotions. Give yourself time and space.”

  He nodded again. “Sorry.”

  I rose on shaking legs and began gathering my clothing, pulling my hose back on and slipping a shirt over my head. “Sleep, Galahad. Let yourself be at peace with all the madness and chaos. We can talk any time but I think for now you need to be alone.”

  He didn’t stop me. I opened the small door and slipped into the dark passageway before blindly stumbling up to the deck. The night air swamped my senses and felt good. Salty, warm and clean of human emotions. It dried the tears on my cheeks.

  “Holt?” I recognised Raven’s voice.

  “No now,” I said without turning from the rail.

  “Fair enough, lad. I’m here if you need me.”

  I nodded and I felt him move away. I stared out into the darkness of the night and watched the waves catch the moonlight, the only thing which gave us perspective on our watery world. The light flashed and danced, sparkling and breaking, so fragile and ephemeral. I wanted to find words to help me understand the last few days and nights but there weren’t any. I’d just reacted to different situations from the heart. I should have been thinking with my head but I couldn’t, I never did. It was a great failing in a king. But I failed at being a king most of the time and I failed at being a man. Torvec claimed to love me but had tricked me and lied to me, betraying us all. Galahad was a young man, confused and hurting. I should never have done it. I should never have let him talk me into making love to him. I should have held him and helped him mourn the scars on his beautiful face.

  In the end, I wrapped myself up in so much misery I gave up trying to think and stumbled to an empty place on the deck of the ship. I rolled up in a blanket and eventually slept.

  My dream tipped me over and I felt myself drowning, tumbling through endless water which sought to suffocate me. In panic I woke up and realised I lay on a madly tilting deck.

  “Holt!” came a loud cry.

  “Aye, Captain,” I yelled, instantly awake and moving into service. I scrambled on the canted deck and reached the forecastle. Raven clung to the wheel, fighting for control.

  “What the hell is going on?” I asked. I watched other men rushing from below decks and those on the deck rising quickly and seeing to their duties.

  “It came from nowhere,” Raven said loudly. The wind tore at the sails and he shouted orders to bring them in, trying to steady us in the heaving, rolling black mass of the sea.

  “A storm has never caught you unawares,” I said.

  “I know,” he said, clearly cross with himself.

  “It’s not natural, is it?” I asked.

  “What do you think, Holt? High winds are common here at this time of year, creating a good swell, but storms like this? Never,” he said. A wave crashed over the prow of the ship and several hands were washed off their feet. Safety lines were ordered by the first mate and we continued to plough through the rough sea.

  “Where do you need me?” I asked.

  “I need you and that wall of muscle you love so much, as well as Lord Fitzwilliam, up here following orders. While you’re at it, get the fucking wolves up, they can be useful for a change,” he said.

  I didn’t argue, just fought against the soaking waves now crashing almost constantly over the ship, and struggled below. I met Lance and Galahad, both holding onto the beams overhead while trying to move forward.

  “Raven needs us above deck, things are bad. A sudden storm and it’s nasty,” I said, trying to make myself heard over the groaning of the ship. I didn’t look at Galahad directly.

  “Can I help?” Kerwin asked from behind them.

  “Yes,” I called out. “We’ll need to stow everything way that can move. Tell the girls that’s their first job. Then they’ll be dealing with the injured if there are some, so they need to be ready.”

  I saw the dark shadow of the shifter nod and he back-tracked to the rooms used by the women. Lance and Galahad followed me. The moment I opened the hatch to the deck we were covered in briny water. Lance cursed but Galahad clenched his jaw and fought for dominance over the swirling water.

  “What’s first?” he called out to me.

  “The sails,” I said. “They need tying down tightly before they become too wet and drag the ship over or down.”

  “The rigging?” he asked.

  “If you’re brave enough,” I yelled over the noise.

  He grimaced but didn’t say another word, just headed for the rigging which would take us up into the sky and above the roaring sea. Should I be risking the likes of Galahad du Lac, only son and heir to the throne of Albion? Perhaps not but on a ship the only word that mattered was that of the captain. We worked together, shoulder to shoulder, heaving the wet canvas up and trying to fold it securely.

  “Hold tight in the rigging,” came a harsh cry from below. Galahad looked up instead of following orders and I yelled, inarticulate with shock, as a mighty wave of black water crashed into us. Galahad lost his grip on the wet canvas and wood we clung to; a moment later the water hit me. The unending power of that wave drove into my body and every muscle corded in an effort to cling to life but my mind screamed at me that I’d lose Galahad forever. The wave washed past me and I remained but my companion was gone.

  “No!” I screamed into the night and without knowing how, I stood on the cross-beam and threw myself off the Echo and int
o the plunging sea.

  Cold blackness. Was this death? I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t breathe. Galahad. The dark god of my world. Where was he? I tumbled over, yanked by the tumultuous waves, and realised I’d left Albion leaderless. I wouldn’t find Galahad in this. I couldn’t find the Echo. I’d plunged into the water because I felt my heart vanish and there had been no thought to the consequences. I would no longer be king because I couldn’t be trusted to make the right decisions. I followed my heart all too easily.

  A peace washed over me and I realised all I had to do was to give up and open my mouth.

  Something hard bumped against my torso as I turned, unable to find a way up to the air. I grabbed it automatically; dark hair swirled around me and strong arms grasped me in turn. I held Galahad. Something else nudged against me but I ignored it. Galahad was all that mattered. Holding him and trying to find the surface so he could live. But his hands began to lose their grip on me and I began to lose my grip on the reason to fight for the surface. The pain in my chest grew ten thousand times worse and far beyond endurance, so I didn’t endure – I let go...

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Noise rushed forward and away like a wave on a beach, little of it making sense. I clung to the blackness of peace but the persistent sound rushed forward again and this time I felt something gripping my shoulders.

  I groaned.

  “You’re alive,” sobbed a soft rich voice I knew.

  “Go away,” I managed, wanting to return to the peace of blackness.

  “Holt, please, wake up,” begged Galahad.

  I opened an eye and blinked several times. “Go away,” I repeated more clearly.

  “Please wake up,” he said.

  I sighed, my stomach convulsed and I rolled instantly onto all fours puking salt water everywhere. “Ugh,” I said.

  A strong hand rubbed my back and a soft voice coaxed me to think. “We are in trouble,” he said.