Wicked Temptation: The Siren Coven (The Excalibur Duet)

by Kim Loraine

  “First, breakfast. Then we need to make a plan,” he says.

  “A plan for what?”

  “We still have to stop Lucifer from opening all the seals. Without Excalibur to help us, that’s going to be decidedly more challenging.”

  My heart clenches. He’s right. I’m practically a little witchling with my magic so erratic, and we have nothing but his Nephilim power. Excalibur was our big gun.

  He puts the kettle on and grabs us each a mug. “I’ll call the coven and see what they can do. Rachel might have a contingency plan in place.”

  “Why would she have that?”

  “She’s always prepared for every eventuality.” He shrugs, then sighs. “And Anya mentioned Lance’s aura was clouded. I believe they attributed it to his conflicted feelings toward you, but perhaps it was the bargain he’d made.”

  Hurt courses through me. A bargain he made because of me. “I don’t kn—” My words cut off because I can’t breathe. A rush of power hits me straight in the chest, flowing through my veins like cold water through a glacial river path. My spine bows and my head is thrown back as my vision turns white and I lose control of my body.

  “Gwen! Holy fuck, Gwen!” I hear Brooks before I can see him, but slowly, my vision returns.

  He’s staring wide-eyed. The kettle whistles on the stove, but neither of us acknowledge it. “What was that?” he asks.

  “I think…I think I just got my power back.”

  With shaking hands, I gesture to the kettle and murmur a soft incantation. It raises off the burner and settles on an iron trivet in the middle of the stove. The whistling dies down until there’s no sound other than the ticking of the Grandfather clock in the hall.

  “How?” Brooks asks.

  “I’m not sure. It had been contained in a moonstone, but we had no clue where it was.”

  “Do you think Lancelot—”

  “I don’t see how.”

  A tickling sensation builds in my belly, growing stronger with each passing second. “Shit. Brooks?”

  He raises his eyebrows. “All right?”

  “I’ll be back. I’m being summoned.”

  “Summoned?”

  But, before I can answer him, I’m gone and my sisters, my coven, stand before me.

  “About fucking time,” Helena says, hand on her hip. “What the hell just happened?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Brooks

  Gwen has been gone for hours. I don’t know how to find her, but she said she’d return. I have to trust.

  Sitting in the library, I flip through the pages of a book of Arthurian legends. Are they legends? Was Kit lying when he said I am Arthur? I have no memory of a life before this one, nothing, except for a deep connection to Gwen. Though I have to admit, part of me feels a sense of loss now that Lancelot is gone. It feels…wrong to be just the two of us.

  “A bit of light reading?” Gwen asks, catching my attention from the doorway.

  “You’re back.”

  She nods. “Safe and sound. I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to explain.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Back to my coven. All three of us have our magic again.” Her happiness radiates and fills the room. It’s obvious now that I see her with her power, she’s herself again. Gwen wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace before pressing a light kiss on my cheek. “We can find Lance now. I can easily do a locator spell and we can bring him back. I know I can save him.”

  Unease curls in my gut. Can we? He was nearly changed by the time we figured out what was going on. I can’t bring myself to tell her he was too far gone. Instead, I nod. “Let’s give it a go.”

  “I’ll need something of his to track him with.” There’s such excitement shining in her eyes, it almost hurts. What happens when…if she finds him? She can’t be with us both. Can she? “Back in a tick,” she says, darting out of the kitchen. I hear the thump of her rapid footfalls on the stairs, and a few moments later, she’s back clutching a comb.

  “Are you sure that’s his?” From his constantly tousled appearance, I doubt Lancelot combed his hair with more than his fingers.

  “Yes,” she murmurs, running her fingers over the teeth of the black comb and pulling out a strand of dark hair. “Perfect.”

  She clears the counter and stares down at the marble, a frown on her face.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “This isn’t going to be pleasant. We can’t call him to us. We’ll have to go to him.”

  “Okay, and what does that mean?”

  She takes my hand and murmurs a few words. The world spins and goes misty before righting itself, but now, we’re in the woods. Soft birdsong and the rush of air as it caresses the leaves fills our surroundings. The scent of fresh earth and moss brings back a flood of familiar nostalgia without a solid memory for me to cling to.

  “I know this place,” I whisper.

  “So do I.” Her voice is faint and unbelieving.

  “Why do I know this? Where are we?”

  “I could be wrong, but I’m fairly certain we’ve been brought to the place where Camelot once stood.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Keeping her gaze away from mine, she murmurs, “You never forget where you’ve died.”

  I swallow hard and take a long breath as those words sink in. “Which way do we go?”

  She threads her fingers with mine and points to the north. “That way. Can’t you feel it?”

  I close my eyes and let my body guide me. She’s right. There’s a pull, a kind of magnetism. “Yes. I feel it.”

  We walk together through a barely visible path, the brush getting more dense as we go. Branches catch on our clothes, in her hair, but we press on. The call is too strong to ignore. My heart is racing in anticipation of what we’ll find. There’s too much at stake for us to leave Lancelot, but I know I’ll lose her when we bring him back to us.

  Gwen breaks through to a clearing before me and I nearly run into her as I follow behind. She’s standing still as a statue, staring down at a pile of ashes and an empty chain at her feet. Bending down, she collects the chain and inspects it. “This…the moonstone was on it.” She gestures to the pile of ash. “Whoever this was had my power and was using it against us all.”

  “So, it was Lancelot who freed your magic,” I state.

  “It had to have been him. Oh, God,” she whispers, bringing her fingers to her lips. “Is that…”

  “No, darling, no. It can’t be him. I still feel the pull. If he were dead, would this spell have worked?”

  Her shoulders sag in relief. “You’re right. Nothing would have happened. I wouldn’t be able to sense him.”

  “Then we continue on our path.” I caress her shoulder and slide my hand down her arm until our fingers are once again linked. “Come on. We do this together.”

  Signs of a struggle are all over the clearing. An ancient boulder is cracked down the middle, dark blood staining the rock. But then I see it, at the crest of a hill, the gnarled old tree with a twisted trunk and exposed roots of dark wood.

  “The hawthorn,” Gwen breathes. In that moment I realize her connection to this tree and jealousy burns through me. I read the stories of the knight and the queen. She rushes to it running around the trunk calling Lancelot’s name. Her voice cuts off abruptly and she cries out in surprise before I can get to her.

  “Gwen!” I run up the hill, desperate to save her from whatever trap had been set, but find her on her knees in front of a tangle of roots. There, glistening between them is the hilt of a sword.

  “He’s gone. He’s gone.” She repeats those words over and over, staring at the sword. Then she stands and grips the hilt, bracing herself, she pulls with all her might. Screaming her frustration into the quiet forest as the blade doesn’t move an inch.

  “How do you know he’s gone?”

  “I can’t feel him anymore. He’s not on this plane.”

  She’s right
. As soon as I caught sight of the sword, I lost my connection to him. My gaze locks on the ruby encrusted hilt still in her hands. I stride toward her and grip her arms gently, pulling her away from Excalibur.

  With trembling hands, I touch the sword. The once calm breeze swirls around me and light bursts from the blade as I pull it free of the tangle of roots with little effort.

  A life I didn’t know I’d lived flashes through my mind. Marrying Guinevere, making her my queen, loving her more than life itself, but needing someone else just as badly. Countless battles with my knights by my side—none more loyal than Lancelot. Morgan forcing my hand after she exposed Gwen and Lance’s affair. Losing both Gwen and Lancelot. But what aches most is the memory of living a lie by denying myself the love I needed. Love from both of them.

  I fall to my knees and a sob breaks free from deep in my soul.

  Gwen is there, her calming presence taking away some of the guilt and regret. I turn my face to hers and kiss her long and deep. It’s the kiss of a husband returned to his bride after a long absence, of a man begging for forgiveness, of a desperate lover asking for acceptance.

  “Guinevere,” I murmur.

  “Arthur.” Her sigh of my name fills my chest with hope for the future we should have had.

  “We have to find Lance. We have to bring him back to us.”

  To be continued…

  SNEAK PEEK

  IMMORTAL FLAME: THE EXCALIBUR DUET #2

  Chapter 1

  *Subject to change during the editing process

  Brooks

  One touch changed everything. In the blink of an eye I became a different person. Two lives in one mind. I was Arthur Pendragon. I lived and loved, and then I lost it all.

  Excalibur lies discarded on the ground, my hands still shaking from the overwhelming rush of memories continually crashing into me like waves in a vast, wild ocean. Lancelot is gone and I have no idea how we can move forward without him. My Guinevere kneels beside me, her gentle hands rubbing my back as she holds me.

  “Gwen,” I begin, but have to stop because of the ache in my heart at the memory of how our life together ended…of what I did to her.

  “Arthur, don’t.”

  I shake my head and pull back from her. That name feels strange. It’s the ghost of a man I was, but Brooks is still here. Brooks is still who I am. My angelic grace sings in my veins, a reminder that in this life I have a calling. I am Nephilim. Half angel, half human, and determined to end the apocalypse. “Call me by my name in this life. Call me Brooks. Arthur was a coward who did you wrong. If I’d been any kind of husband to you, I’d never have let my counsel send you to the pyre.” Even now the vision of her being led to her death makes nausea curl in my gut.

  “You had no choice.” Her voice is tight, and I know she’s remembering the flames.

  Again I shake my head. “I sent word to Lancelot. I thought he’d come for you. I had no doubt he’d rescue you and then I’d come find both of you.”

  Tears swim in her eyes. “But he had already been imprisoned in purgatory. You couldn’t have known. From the beginning we were set up to fail. My curse ensured that.”

  Anger blooms in my chest. “I still sent you to death. By the time I realized he wasn’t coming—” I have to swallow past the lump in my throat before I can finish. “I was too late.”

  I should’ve done so many things differently and our current situation proves I’m still making mistakes. I failed my wife. I failed my best friend, the man I loved as I loved Gwen—the man I could never have.

  It’s strange to have two lives playing in my mind. My past was filled with unrequited desire for Lancelot and a love for Gwen that was born of respect and friendship more than sexual need. But now? Now my want is for Gwen in a much more carnal nature. Until I touched that damn sword she was the only one I wanted, but my desires are at war with one another and I don’t know how to handle them. My past self loves them both, my present self craves them both. Either way, I need them…both.

  “We have to find Lance,” I say, getting to my feet and holding out a hand for hers.

  She turns sad eyes on me but takes my offered help as she rises. “He’s gone. The sword abandoned him…he lost his fight with the demon blood.”

  I bend down and take up Excalibur once more, the weight of the blade in my palm a calming thing, as though I’ve been missing it all this time. “Something isn’t right about this. He returned your magic. If he wasn’t worthy, why would he do that?”

  “I…I don’t know. But I can feel it, Brooks. Lance is gone. He’s as good as dead.” The pain in her voice makes me wish I could fix this for her. “I’m not sure where we go from here.”

  “Gwen, look at me.” She locks gazes with me and I’m hit with a wave of emotion so strong my knees nearly buckle. Our bond is more than an arranged marriage hundreds of years ago. My angelic nature pulses with the power of our connection. Gwen is my soul mate. Just as my father fell from Heaven for my mother, I would do the same for Guinevere. After taking a steadying breath, I push back the instinct to tell her what just happened and take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, a gesture I’ve never used before with her. “Wherever we go, we go together. You are mine. I won’t put you at risk.”

  She nods and her brow furrows. “What is it I’m seeing in your eyes? There’s so much passion. Arthur never looked at me that way.”

  “I may have been Arthur, but I’m still Brooks. I still want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  Her breath hitches but she doesn’t respond, instead she links our hands. “We need to talk to my sisters.”

  I clear my throat and send a pulse of my grace through my palm and into her. When she tenses and looks into my eyes with a question hovering unasked between us, I say, “I can make this easier on you. Your powers only just returned.”

  She closes her eyes and the world around us swirls and tilts. I shut my own eyes and my grip on Excalibur doesn’t loosen. Gwen is taking us somewhere, and I have to trust in her. As we’re transported through space and time, I’m hit with a vision of the enchanted ruby belt that matches the sword. It’s not complete. Excalibur won’t serve its purpose if it isn’t whole. We’ll fail our mission if we can’t find the scabbard.

  When I open my eyes I’m greeted with rolling green hills, gray cold skies, and the stern faces of four people. One of whom is certainly a fallen angel.

  “You said he was hot,” the small blonde says, her Irish accent strong. “You definitely didn’t lie.”

  The man behind her grumbles and pulls her close, his big body making her look even more petite. His palm rests on her pregnant belly and I see the flash of a gold wedding band on his finger. “I’ll have you know I’m right here, Beauty.”

  The blonde smiles. “I’m aware, Beast.”

  The other woman is tall and statuesque, her frame lean and regal. “Made your choice, I see? No threesome in your future?”

  Gwen stiffens beside me. “Helena,” she hisses. “Now is not the time.”

  “Where’s your knight?”

  The question hangs between us until Gwen unlinks our hands and steps forward. “Gone. He’s…I don’t know how to find him.”

  “You tried the locator spell?” Helena asks, pulling Gwen away from me and into her arms.

  “We found the sword. Brooks…he’s Arthur.”

  Helena’s dark gaze finds me and I feel her power hovering on the edge of threatening. “You said he killed you. He’s responsible for…burning you.” She whispers the last and I fight the urge to protest.

  Gwen looks back at me and all I see is hope in her eyes. Then she turns her attention to her sisters. “The three of us know enough about past lives to understand we can’t change what’s happened, only move forward and do better.”

  Helena takes a long breath, but nods. “I suppose. And Excalibur? Does he hold that power?”

  “I do,” I say, not wanting Gwen to speak for me. “It was locked in the roots of a haw
thorn tree. When I touched the hilt I remembered…everything.”

  She furrows her brow and steps toward me, but the fallen angel at her side sucks in a sharp breath and steps in front of her. “None of that, love. I’ll be the one examining this…Nephilim.”

  “I told you what he was, Tamiel,” Gwen argues, but the fallen steps forward and takes me by the arm.

  “Who sired you?” Tamiel closes his eyes and I feel the force of his grace pushing against me. “Why can’t I sense him?”

  I pull my arm out of his grip and square my shoulders. I’m a tall man and my presence intimidates most, but not this bloke. “You’d do well to keep your hands off me, mate.”

  “Mate?” The angel laughs and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “I’m not your friend. You might be the child of one of my brothers, but that doesn’t mean you’re on our side. All I know is Gwen shows up here with you instead of Lance, heartbreak written all over her face, and Gabriel has said absolutely nothing about you being part of this.” He stands between me and the witches, the large man who’d been protecting the blonde taking up a place beside him. Upon closer inspection, I can tell he’s a shifter.

  “What do you want to do here, Tamiel?” the shifter asks, his voice a low rumble colored by a thick Scots accent. Now that he’s nearer I feel the wolf inside him close to the surface. No wonder the little blonde called him Beast.

  “I’m not sure. Helena, take Gwen inside. We need to have a chat with my…nephew.”

  The last thing I want is to let her out of my sight. I just got her. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

  Tamiel’s wings extend and his eyes glow with the power his angelic grace affords him. “Do not challenge me, Nephilim.”

  I’m not backing down. “Gwen and I are in this together. The two of us stay together.” My hand rests on the hilt of Excalibur and my own grace burns as it gathers power and sends it all to the blade.