by Kim Loraine
“You all right over there?” Brooks asks, leaning close. His cologne smells rich and warm.
“Yeah. Just…a houseguest who fancies himself my protector.”
“Ah, I would’ve thought him to be a boyfriend by the way he watches you.”
A thrill runs through me at the word. “No. Not in a very long time.”
“That’s good to know.”
Is he…flirting with me? He can’t possibly be. “So, you’re the owner. Aren’t you a little young?”
His finger traces the rim of his glass as he stares at me. “This place has been in my family for generations. I inherited it when my mum died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
A slight shrug of his shoulders is all I get. I really put my foot in it with my new boss.
Lancelot clears his throat and places his empty pint glass on the bar with a loud thump. “Five minutes has come and gone, Gwen.”
I turn toward him, frustrated but also angry with myself for being spiteful enough to allow Brooks to flirt in front of Lance. “So it has.”
“Come.”
I want to fight him, but truthfully, I’d rather walk home with Lance over anyone else. He’s always kept me safe, regardless of whether we were lovers or not.
He walks around the bar until he’s right next to me, his large form equal parts comforting and terrifying. This man was my undoing once upon a time. “Allow me to escort you home, my lady.” He holds out his arm, and I take it. The slight wince when I brush his injury barely perceptible. Instinctively, I place my fingers on the identical spot on my own forearm, but I don’t feel pain.
Again, I glance at Liza. “Night, Liza.”
She stares open-mouthed and then narrows her eyes. “Is he…whisking you away?” Then before I can answer, she mutters, “Lucky bitch.”
Lance takes my hand and squeezes, his warmth flowing through me. “Come,” he says again, and this time there’s a promise of much more buried inside that word.
Hanging my short apron on the hook under the mahogany bar, I follow. I let him lead and hope he’s not taking me over a cliff. There’s too much truth in his eyes to leave room for doubts. Lancelot is loyal to his causes, whatever they may be.
Together we leave The Witch’s Brew Pub and there’s a tingle of magic about him that wasn’t there before. I can feel power surrounding him as we walk through the door and into the cool night air.
“You’re…different,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I am the same man I’ve always been.”
“No. You’re stronger. You feel…like Arthur.”
He flinches at that but doesn’t respond. I’ve hurt him. Gaze forward, he focuses on the path before us, his long strides causing me to run to keep up.
“Lance, I’m sorry. Slow down.”
A slight shake of his head is all I get. God, this man. We were both hurt by the other, our pride and our hearts permanently scarred and damaged. But he’s not angry with me, not really. He’s still holding onto the guilt of falling for his best friend’s wife. That won’t stop him from punishing us both.
“Lancelot, stop!” I shout the words with every ounce of regal authority I possess. His shoulders stiffen and he stops. Tension radiates from him, but his loyalty to his queen is ingrained in him.
When I catch up, I place one hand on his elbow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to compare you to him.”
His eyes won’t lock on mine. He’s looking straight through me. “I am not Arthur and I never will be.”
“I know that.”
“And you…the way you looked at that man tonight. The easy smiles and soft words. I should have known better than to think you reserved those wiles for me alone. I will always be second.”
Guilt swims to the surface. I had known it was cruel to allow the flirting. But Lancelot isn’t my true love. Should I really deny any other possibilities because he is here?
“Brooks is my boss. He’s not someone I want to date.”
“Date?”
“Court. Woo. Canoodle.”
Fury blazes in his expression. “Until our task is complete, there will be no…canoodling.”
“What happened when Gabriel visited?” My segue isn’t the cleanest, but we’ll go round in circles if I don’t change the subject.
Those blue irises find mine and something curls low in my belly— need, passion, desire. “I took up Excalibur. The sword is mine.” He touches his hip and the glowing outline of the blade shines in the dark. It’s faint, and if you didn’t know to look for it, you wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but I’ve spent enough time around that sword to recognize the power.
“I thought only Arthur—”
He cuts me off with a sharp, “Not anymore. Apparently, he lost his way after we left him. Gabriel says the sword only responds to one who is worthy. Our king was no longer that person.”
My heart breaks for the knowledge of Arthur’s downfall. He may have been the instrument of one of my deaths, but it was solely because his hands were tied. I had been exposed as an adulteress, accused of witchcraft, and convicted of both by his counsel. But I can’t let those feelings interfere now. One ghost from my past is more than enough. Lancelot and I have to stop the end of the world together, and to do that, I have to trust the angels.
“So, you’re the guy now?”
He nods. “I am…as you say, the guy.”
“Okay, hero, what’s next?”
“I have no idea.”
Lancelot
“You’re serious?” Gwen stares at me with utter disbelief written all over her face.
“I have to walk through trials. I don’t know what they are, but Excalibur will lead us.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes to the sky. “Oh, Heaven help me. So, we’re following the lead of a magic sword. Are we just going to wander aimlessly around London in hopes of finding the right path before we die of exhaustion?”
I have to work to push away the annoyance building in my chest. She’s right. We have no horse, no supplies. How are we supposed to do this without even the most basic items? Automobiles speed past us, as we walk down the darkened path. “Do you have one of those?” I ask, gesturing to the road.
She grins. “I don’t. But I can get one.”
Hand in her pocket, she pulls out her phone and dials. “What are you doing?”
“Calling reinforcements.”
We walk back to the flat while she chats with Izzy and makes arrangements for us. I don’t understand most of what Gwen says, but I hear the excitement in her voice. She wants to do this with me. When she hangs up, she turns to me, her eyes bright and smile wide. She looks so like the woman I loved. “All set, my lady?” I ask.
“Your iron steed will be here in the morning.”
“Iron steed?” I frown as I picture a horse made of iron. How could that work?
She laughs. “It’s called a motorcycle. You’ll see when Grant arrives.”
Motorcycle. I roll the word around in my mind. Intrigued by the prospect of mastering a modern beast. As we approach the building where our flat is housed, unease prickles along the back of my neck. I sense them before I see them. A faint scent of sulfur fills the air. It could be paranoia after my dealings with demons, but I’m not willing to take that chance. Putting myself in front of Gwen, I draw Excalibur as two dark figures step out of the alley and block our entry to the building.
“Lance, what the hell?” Gwen complains, grabbing my shoulder as though she’ll be able to move me. I will not let any harm come to her under my watch.
“Don’t, my lady.” She tries to step around me and I move to keep her hidden.
“I told you he had the sword,” the tallest man says, his thick cockney accent clipping his words. “Take it from him.”
They’re demons. I can see it in their eyes, but more than that, I can sense the evil in them as Excalibur’s power runs through me. A soft gasp of surprise falls from Gwen and I turn, dread curling in my gut. S
he’s in the arms of another demon, one I hadn’t thought to look for. I’m rusty, not prepared for this modern world and its overwhelming sights and sounds. They ambushed us and I fell for it.
The smaller of the three men rushes me, I hear his sharp intake of breath just before he takes off. Swinging the blade as I turn, I catch him across the chest, the wound a burning slice through skin and bone. He screams as light fills his body and he vanishes, taken to Hell where he belongs.
“Motherfucker,” the tall one mutters, stopping where he stands with fear in his eyes. That doesn’t stop me. I surge forward, sinking the blade deep into his chest and vanquishing him as well.
I turn my attention back to my lady, struggling against her captor. She grits her teeth and lunges forward, but he holds her fast. Her head hangs, and just as I think she’s given up, she slams the back of her skull straight into his nose. The crunch of breaking cartilage is gruesome and he groans in pain, releasing her as blood gushes down his face.
“How? You’re so small. They said you’d lost your spark,” he whimpers.
She stares down at him, breathing hard as she watches him writhe on his knees, hand over his nose. “I am not a damsel who needs saving. I am a queen. I save myself. That’s where you went wrong, demon.”
Then, for good measure, she walks up to him and kicks him in the bollocks, as hard as she possibly can. He falls to his side, coughing and moaning.
“I’ll leave my knight to dispatch you.” She looks at me and nods as I take up Excalibur once more and end him.
When I focus on her again, I can see the fight she’s having for control of her body. Her eyes are shining with fear, but her jaw is set and palms clenched in tight fists. She’s strong, always strong, but on the inside, she’s a mess.
“Inside, Gwen. We need to get inside.” I open the door and wait for her to go in, then follow behind, watching for any sign she’s going to lose the battle and fall.
To her credit, she leads the way into the lift and stays strong, head held high. But I know her. By the way her lips are pressed into a thin line, it’s obvious that she’s barely holding it together. The elevator doors slide closed and we stand there in silence, both staring at each other, hearts pounding, fear turning to something much more volatile as I close the distance between us.
I reach out to brush a stray piece of hair away from her face and she catches my wrist. But instead of pushing me away, she pulls a red button on the lift’s control panel and everything stops. “Don’t be tender and sweet, Lancelot.” Then my Gwen grips the back of my neck with the hand that had been holding my wrist and she pulls me to her.
It’s pure passion, undiluted and uncontrolled, when we connect. Just as it’s always been. Her lips beg me to take her as mine and never let go. They’re the cause of my fall from grace, the temptation I couldn’t abstain from, the sin I’d gladly commit for the rest of my life. My fingers find their way into her hair, twisting and tugging as I devour her like my life depended on her kiss.
A moan falls from her and she hitches her leg over my hip, the movement confident and wanton. It only serves to arouse me even further. My cock is hard and aching to be inside her again. After centuries without her, I don’t know if I can resist her much longer.
“God, Lance,” she murmurs against my lips. “We shouldn’t—”
Her hands drift over my shoulders and down farther until they reach the button of my jeans. A ripple of need runs through me at the promise of her hand on my length. The world around us fades away and it feels as though we’re suspended in mid-air. Everything is right when she’s in my arms.
“This is the fire brigade. Everyone all right in there?” A disembodied female voice fills the lift. Gwen and I break apart, both of us back to the real world.
“Yes. We’re fine. Just settling an argument.” Gwen’s words are tight with embarrassment. “Sorry.”
She reaches out and pushes the red button and the lift starts moving again. Her cheeks burn crimson, but there’s a smile on her lips. Lips swollen from my kisses.
The doors slide open and she steps out, into the hall and just like that, our moment is lost.
Chapter Ten
Brooks
I didn’t expect her to be so beautiful. Gwen. My newest task. A witch without magic.
The bar is long closed as I sit and sip my scotch. The amber liquid burns and leaves a smoky aftertaste in my mouth. It takes everything in me to stay in my seat, to keep myself from going after Gwen and her knight. The two of them have no idea of the true danger they’re in, but I can’t interfere yet. Not until word comes down the ranks.
The air around me shifts and my ears pop. A chill runs down my spine as I feel his presence in the darkened space before I see him.
“Father,” I mutter, eyes trained on the corner where I sense him.
“Brooks, you look well.” My father steps forward, his translucent wings glowing behind him. He says they’re a shadow of what they once were when he was a full angel. He’s worked hard to take back what he lost after he fell. He searched the earth for my mother and thirty years ago, he found her. Then I was born.
“Things are falling into place with the witch. But Lancelot has Excalibur. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
He grins. “Wasn’t it? I’m sure Gabriel hopes the knight will choose the side of good. But I fear he’ll go dark and we’ll lose him, just like we lost Arthur, before he can serve Gabriel and Michael. The man has been keeping far too many secrets.”
Unease pricks at my spine. I could tell from the moment I met her that Gwen was special. The last thing I want is her to be in danger. “And I will keep Gwen safe. She won’t understand until it happens—until Lancelot loses control. But maybe…maybe I can separate them enough for her to avoid repeating her mistakes with him.”
My father’s eyes glow amethyst. “She’s not safe if she’s in his arms, son. Your destiny is twisted with hers.”
I think of the possessive way the knight stared at Gwen, the lust in his gaze. He covets her. “But what can I do aside from watch over her?”
He steps closer and takes my hand, placing it on his chest. “Close your eyes. This is going to hurt.”
I do as he asks, and bloody hell, he’s right. My whole body burns as though he just doused me in petrol and lit me ablaze. But then it’s over, and I’m strong. Stronger than I’ve ever felt in my life. “What did you do to me?”
“I simply unlocked your power. You are Nephilim, Brooks, you know that. Now it’s time you stepped out of the sidelines and joined our ranks.”
Chapter Eleven
Gwen
“You’ve got demon blood on you,” I say, gesturing to Lance’s stained shirt. It’s not a lot, but I need something to give us some separation. That kiss was more than I’d expected, oh, who am I kidding? It was everything. There was a strange sense of completion when we were joined, the flow of what felt like magic easing the missing part of me. I’ve spent these many lifetimes avoiding men, not able to handle the thought of sex. Sex led to my death, so naturally, I never gave myself that option. But really…if I’m being honest, aside from Arthur, I wasn’t interested in sex with anyone other than Lancelot.
He glances down at his shirt and runs a hand through his tousled hair. “I suppose I should have a shower.”
I nod. I need the time to figure out the tangled web of emotions coursing through me. Our kiss felt so right. It was like two halves to the same whole finally being reunited. But then I think of all the times Helena and Izzy had been wrong. For God’s sake, Tristan returned and dosed Izzy with a love potion—twice. She’d thought him true, and he tried to kill her.
I pace the floor, listening as the echo of water on tile filters from the open door to the bedroom. My fingers rest on my lips, savoring his kiss as I try to come to terms with the effect he has on me. Am I really going to leave myself vulnerable to this man again?
But Lance seemed so genuine when he said he’d never lain with another. Had he no
t left me? Was it all a misunderstanding? Fear strikes me, sharp and cold. Was my vision not true?
Shaking my head, I fight with myself as I sit on the couch. My visions aren’t wrong. I saw them together.
Excalibur lies across the coffee table, the shining steel calling to me. Reaching out, I touch the hilt, then the blade. A burning pain has me letting out a soft yelp of surprise and when I glance at my finger, I see a bead of dark blood welling on my skin. The drop falls to the blade and without warning, everything goes dark.
My tall, forbidding husband stands over me from inside my tower where he imprisoned me after the guards caught me trying to find my lover. He shakes his head and sighs. “Guinevere, my beautiful queen. I loved you. I truly did. But now? Now you’ve spoiled everything. All that’s left for you is to beg mercy and condemn your knight to death.” Heartbreak colors each of his words. “If…if there was a way to prove you were carrying my child…perhaps I could spare you.”
I could save myself a terrible death if only I’d accept his offer. But I’d been taking a potion to prevent pregnancy since I’d married Arthur. There was no way I’d bring a child into the world knowing I’d be leaving him or her alone when my curse took me. I look him in the eyes and lie to his face. “I’m barren. You know this. We’ve been wed close to ten years and you’ve not once gotten me with child.”
He grits his teeth and growls, a fierce anger building in him. Betrayal shining in his eyes. “I suppose now that everyone knows about the two of you, it would be too easy to question the legitimacy of any child carried by you while Lancelot still lives.” He drags a hand through his hair and locks gazes with me. His eyes are red-rimmed and pleading. “You were never supposed to fall in love. Either of you. I gave Lancelot to you in secret with hopes you’d provide me an heir. In this case, your empty womb is a blessing.” That sends a sharp stab of hurt through me. Particularly after my vision of Lancelot with a wife awaiting a child.
