Master of Honor (Merlin's Legacy 5)

by Angela Knight

  “Believe me,” Ulf breathed, “It can definitely say the same.”

  With a delightful little giggle, she leaned in and engulfed his aching crown in her hot, wet heat. Her tongue swirled around the shaft, sending pleasure shuddering up his spine. God, how many times had she played silly games with his cock? He felt his eyes sting and blinked away the ache.

  Cheryl released him with a juicy pop and bounced to her feet. Smiling wickedly as she wrapped her around his neck, she sank against him, long and lithe. Her body felt deliciously soft in all the best places, trapping his aching cock against that firm little belly. The smile twisted into a grimace. “Maybe I’d better brush my teeth. I probably taste like the bottom of a ferret cage.”

  “No.” His hands wrapped around her elbows and lifted her off her feet. “And if you did, I wouldn’t care.”

  Evidently reassured by his hungry rumble, she grinned. “Glad to hear it.” She proceeded to climb him, limber as a cat, wrapping both long legs around his hips and kissing him with the same starved intensity he felt. Her body felt incredible in his arms, agile and strong and hungry.

  He relaxed into her with a sigh. This was definitely Cheryl, his love, the mother of his son. The woman who played silly games with his cock. Jesu, he wanted her. Craved the feel of her as she wrapped herself around him. He was addicted to her. Had been since that first night in Granger’s Books.

  Ulf kissed her, starving, tongue sweeping around hers, coiling and stroking. He could feel the points of her breasts pressing against his chest, the taut silk of her driving his need even higher. His arms tightened around her, and she made a soft grunt. Realizing he’d hurt her, he started to let go.

  Cheryl only wound herself tighter, long legs clamping over his hips, arms tightening around his shoulders. She pulled back from his mouth just far enough to speak. “I need you.” The admission sounded ragged. “It was… it was a really bad day.”

  He went still, realizing just how bad it must have been. She’d always made light of even her worst days, as if afraid complaining too much would drive him away. Not that he had room to talk. He’d never been honest about his own, either. No, I just used her as the cure for them. The thought brought the sting of familiar guilt.

  The sting became physical as her nails dug into his shoulders. “You stay here with me,” Cheryl told him, gaze hot and possessive, reading his mood as if they were Truebonded.

  “I have no desire to be anywhere else.” He looked away only long enough to climb over the edge of the tub and find the steps that led down into it. Cradling her tenderly, he descended into hot, swirling water. He was damned well not going to let anything else matter right now. Not Arthur. Not Gaia.

  Just Cheryl.

  Chapter Six

  “God, you feel so good,” Cheryl whispered against his cheek.

  Ulf smiled. “Just you wait.”

  She laughed, then caught her breath with a wince.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “A little stiff.”

  He laughed. “I feel your pain.”

  “Tacky, Ulf. Very tacky.”

  “Male. Comes with the territory.” He gazed down at her lean, elegant strength wrapped around him, loving the sight. What he didn’t love was the way her eyes had tightened in a flinch at some unwary movement. “Get down and turn around.”

  Smiling a little, she unwrapped those long legs and slid into the water, turning around to give him the access he wanted. His gaze dropped to the tempting curves of her ass as his mouth began to water. But she needed something else right now, so he laid his hands on her shoulders instead. “What have we got?” Gently probing, he found knotted muscle set like stones under silken skin. “Yeah, I’ll bet that does hurt.”

  She sighed in pleasure as he began drilling his thumbs into the tense coils, coaxing them into releasing. “Ooooh…”

  “That’s quite a set of knots.”

  “Yeah.” Cheryl sucked in a breath, her head rolling back. “God, that feels good. I didn’t know you were a masseur on top of everything else.”

  “It’s a combat survival skill. Even if you don’t end up with sword wounds, muscle spasms hurt. And there’s not always a witch around, so we knights had to learn to take care of the problem ourselves.”

  Her lips curled in a wicked little smile. “Now you’re making me imagine all kinds of homoerotic scenarios involving the Knights of the Round Table.”

  He barked out a laugh as he rotated his thumbs. “Well, you have time for everything in fifteen hundred years.”

  She turned to stare at him over her shoulder, looking so deliciously scandalized he had to laugh. “Like what? And with whom?” Her eyes widened. “Arthur?”

  “Arthur was taken,” he told her dryly. “Now lean over the side and let me work.”

  She reached for the towels stacked on the inset tub’s flat marble platform and draped herself over them.

  He grabbed a bar of soap and worked up a lather, then began exploring her back with slick hands, searching out kinks to massage into submission. He was appalled at the number of them he discovered. “You really have had a rough day.”

  Her only answer was a throaty groan that made his cock ache, his balls tighten, and the roots of his fangs twinge. The sensation reminded him of the fantasy he’d had for years -- drinking her blood. He’d never given in to the impulse. The spell that kept her from noticing his many differences would have imploded if he’d sunk his fangs into her.

  Besides, as much as he’d loved her, wanted her, Cheryl had only been mortal. Her blood would have lacked that delicious magical fizz Majae and even Latents had. The magic that made drinking Maja blood necessary to his survival.

  But that didn’t stop him from craving her. Wanting to claim her with his fangs as well as his cock. He’d had to ignore that need then, just as he had every intention of ignoring it now.

  Yet as he massaged her lovely back, her hips rolled, brushing her smooth, delicious ass against his stone-hard cock. A shudder of need ran through him, a dark longing to claim her, mortal or…

  Or… not.

  She’d relaxed completely under his hands, except for the slow, unconscious roll of her hips. The lingering scent of fear and stress had vanished from her scent, replaced by pleasure and building sensuality. Unable to resist the temptation, he bent to nip one round, perfect ass cheek. She went still, and her breath caught. “Ulf?”

  “Cheryl.” He took her lush little cheeks in both hands and spread them. He paused, studying the taut curves, the flower of her pussy lips beneath soft, neatly trimmed hair.

  Bending close, he gave her a long, slow lick down the pink crease. She gasped. The air flooded with the erotic perfume of feminine arousal. “Ullllllffff!” The groan sounded delightfully ragged.

  He started lapping along her wet folds from clit all the way to the tight pucker of her ass. And back again. The answering gasp was strangled. He grinned in delight and thrust his tongue deep, savoring the taste of her. Like distilled sex. Hundred-proof arousal. Ah, Cheryl. His favorite meal. He could eat her all night.

  Ulf’s fangs throbbed as he licked and suckled, savoring her scent, her taste. She made a throaty, desperate little sound. Her fingers gripped the tile as if she were hanging on to the edge of a cliff. Grinning wickedly, he decided to pry her loose. It’s going to be a sweet, delicious fall, my love.

  He thrust three fingers deep, enjoying her slick, tight grip as he went after her clit, circling it, teasing it until it was hard as a tiny ruby in the crimson silk of her pussy.

  Her hips bucked, pressing against him, seeking that extra pressure to drive her over the edge. “Oh, no you don’t.” Ulf gripped her long legs high on the thigh to pin her in place. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  * * *

  Cheryl’s eyes widened as Ulf’s big hands immobilized her. He’d always treated her like spun glass. But the rough dominance in his grip now stabbed right to the heart of the erotic fantasies she thought had died of sheer neglect.r />
  It seemed her sweet vanilla lover wasn’t just a vampire Knight of the Round Table -- he was every bit as kinky as she was.

  “Well, you have time for everything in fifteen hundred years.”

  Dayammmm!

  He released her. She started to twist around, see what he intended to do now, when she heard the splash of falling water as his muscled body left the tub. He plunked himself on the marble platform, grabbed her hips, and lifted her. As if she weighed no more than a rag doll, he arranged her on her knees with her back to him. Kneeling behind her, he caught her shoulders and pushed her head down onto that stack of towels, angling her ass in the air.

  “What are you…” She tried to straighten, but he grabbed the back of her head, pressing her face to the folded towels.

  “Spread,” he ordered, a note of dark, arousing command in his voice.

  Heart pounding, Cheryl obeyed, setting her knees wide for him. Heat flared like a fireball in her pussy, every nerve in her body igniting. He reared over her, and she felt the tip of his cock press the wet flesh he’d prepared with such rapacious skill. Then he entered, hard, luscious, sweetly endless. She cried out in shock and delight.

  He froze. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No! More. God, more!”

  Ulf growled, a sound blending relief, hunger, and lust. He began to fuck her, fierce and grinding, riding her so hard, she had to call on her new Gaia-born strength to meet his lunges. His shaft raked over every sensitive bundle of nerves she had as their hips bucked and slapped. The orgasm he’d stoked so ruthlessly with his mouth coiled tighter and tighter as he fed energy into it like a spring.

  He wrapped his arms around her from behind and sat back, lifting her with him, yet holding her impaled. As her weight settled into his lap, his long, brutally thick cock dug so deep it was almost painful. Cheryl gasped, glorying in it, loving the idea that he was finally cutting loose. Finally admitting she wasn’t spun glass. Seeing her as his match. His equal.

  Cheryl ground down on him. He pumped upward, muttering hot words Gaia’s memories identified as Latin obscenities. They sounded somehow musical and astonishingly filthy at the same time.

  His free hand clamped over her breast, tugging and pleasuring and twisting the nipple, rough and arousing. His other hand found her clit, danced over the slick little bud, shooting electric jolts of pleasure through her system with every ruthless dig of his cock.

  “Come for me,” he ordered, his voice feral as a wolf’s.

  She threw back her head, grabbing his hands with both of hers, digging in her nails. Drawing blood and not giving a damn. Too lost in their wild rutting to care.

  Until he said something in her ear that truly shocked her. “Move your hair. I want to bite you. I want your blood.”

  Cheryl’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t hesitate. Reaching up, she grabbed a fistful of thick hair and dragged it back. Arched her throat for him, shaking. And not with fear. Waited.

  He breathed against her throat, ragged pants, and his lips seemed to burn against her throat.

  “Do it!” she begged. “Oh God, please!”

  He struck. The feeling of those fangs sinking deep tore a scream of delight from her throat. A thought flashed in her mind -- I’m not Maja. I won’t taste as good…

  But he drank greedily anyway, fierce with hunger and need. If he felt disappointed, she didn’t hear it in his rumble of lupine pleasure.

  The bright sting of his bite only enhanced the searing sweetness of his cock. His skillful hands on her clit and nipple urged the delight higher, then higher yet, until it all crashed into a single white-hot crescendo. She threw back her head and came. Hard, bright pulses raked her, and she convulsed in his arms until he had to work to hold her.

  He climaxed, buried inside her, fangs and cock, his strangled shout muffled by her skin.

  Leaving them panting, locked together. With no more pretenses. No more lies.

  Not quite true, Gaia’s voice said in the heavy, sensual silence.

  Fuck off, Cheryl thought.

  * * *

  Valac had taken the form of the human he’d devoured when he first arrived. He’d have preferred the dragon, but he could hardly walk among the prey in such a form. Now he looked up at a tall human structure of artificial stone and glass. He read the sign outside with the knowledge he’d stolen from his prey -- Mecklenburg Memorial Hospital.

  Vengeance had been here. When he scanned the building with his magical senses, he saw smears of Errul magic scattered over the building. Some were so faint he could barely sense them, but there was no doubt.

  Why would Vengeance spend so much time in a place of healing for sick and injured humans? She was not a predator, so she couldn’t be feeding on their life force. It made no sense. And yet she’d returned here over and over, using her power on each visit. True, Vengeance wasn’t here now, but logically she would return, for whatever inscrutable reason.

  As he scanned the building, his gaze found the hottest pulse of Errul magic coming from one of the upper floors. It was much stronger and fresher than the others. A human who had received her magical attention was still here.

  He headed for the hospital’s double doors. If the human had been the recipient of Vengeance’s magic, they had some sort of connection. Valac could use it to lure her back. And kill her.

  * * *

  Cheryl! Gaia’s voice snapped, sharp with tension.

  Cheryl jolted, her arms tightening reflexively around Ulf’s muscled torso as they lay tangled in his bed. They’d retreated there after making love. “I’m awake!”

  “I noticed,” Ulf said, sounding amused. “It seems I wore you out.”

  She wasn’t listening, too focused on the cold fear flooding her body.

  We have to go, Gaia said. It begins.

  What begins? What are you talking about?

  The Hive scout has found the boy.

  Hive scout? For moment she had absolutely no idea what Gaia was talking about. Then the memories the spirit had blocked came roaring back. The Hive had slain the Errul. They’d sent a scout who had discovered Earth.

  Damn it, Gaia! Why did you make me forget that?

  Because if you’d remembered it, Morgana would have gotten it out of you. Arthur and the Magekind would have attacked the scout, along with his Knights, Ulf, and you. And you all would have died. The rest of the Magekind would have descended to avenge you and died in their turn. Humanity would have been left with no defense.

  Images flashed through Cheryl’s mind, vivid and sickening. Blood pouring from Adam’s mouth as the life was ripped from him. Ulf’s scream of despair and rage before he, too, died. Her own face, a mask of rage and helpless grief as she crouched over their crumpled corpses…

  How do we stop it?

  We must return to mortal Earth. Now.

  “And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” Cheryl said aloud, rolling off Ulf, her bare feet hitting the cold floor. She ran into the bathroom for her clothes.

  Ulf followed her. “Are you talking to Gaia?” A hard note of suspicion edged his voice.

  She ignored him, too busy jerking on her leggings and shirt. “We can’t open a gate here.”

  Ulf can, Gaia said. We can use the gate generator in his armory. Gaia flashed her a memory of it, sitting on the floor after his last use of it. There is a destination generator in your living room. Both devices were needed to conjure a gate without a witch to cast it.

  “Cheryl, damn it…” Ulf was dressing too, hurriedly sliding into jeans and shirt, then dragging on socks and boots. Evidently he sensed the situation had gone to hell. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you’re crazy if you think you’re leaving this house.”

  Cheryl finished stuffing her feet into her shoes. As she started for the bathroom door, Ulf stepped into her path, a thunderous frown on his face. “Forget it.”

  We need him, Gaia said. You must persuade him to help us.

  What? She stared up into Ulf’s face. How? A
nd he’s going to want to tell Arthur…

  You cannot allow it. Arthur will die.

  Turquoise eyes narrowed. “Cheryl, what’s going on?”

  “I’ve got to get the hospital.”

  “Why?”

  “The Hive scout is there. It’s going to kill Brandon!”

  “Hive scout? What are you talking about? And who the hell is Brandon?”

  “The scout is the one who attacked Kel in dragon form. He’s a member of an alien race of psychic predators called the Hive. Fifteen hundred years ago, the Hive destroyed Gaia’s people, the Errul. If we don’t stop him, he’s going to do the exact same thing to Earth. All the Magekind and every human on the planet will die.”

  Ulf stared at her, eyes wide with incredulity and growing fury. “You knew this and didn’t tell me?”

  “Remember how Alys hid what was going to happen in Times Square?”

  He frowned. “She said if she’d told us any of the vision she’d seen, it would have triggered the destruction of the Magekind.”

  “Exactly. Gaia and I are in the same boat now.” She met his hard, skeptical gaze. “Which means you can not tell Arthur. If you breathe a word of this, it’s all lost. Our chance -- our only chance is to go there and kill the scout ourselves.”

  “I can’t fight a fifty-foot dragon by myself!”

  “The scout won’t be a dragon this time. It’s inside the hospital, so it has to assume a form the corridors can accommodate. It’s set a trap for Gaia.”

  “How hell does it know about Gaia?”

  “It sensed the lingering traces of our magic from when we cured the boy. Brandon was dying from a…” She broke off, realizing she didn’t have time to explain. “Never mind. The point is that Gaia’s magic is like the scout’s. There are differences, but it’s close enough. And that means I can kill it. The Magekind can’t. You must gate me back to the house. Gaia has created a weapon that can kill it. We left it in the basement.”

  * * *

  Ulf stared into her eyes. They were wide and wild, but there was no sense of magic about her whatsoever. Of course not. This isn’t her universe.