“TMI,” Kel said dryly from his scabbard. Both of them ignored him.
“You talked me into it.” Gawain swept her into his arms and stepped through the gate. Relieved, she banished it. “And in case there’s any doubt, I’m not feeling patient enough to deal with all these clothes. So unless you want me to start ripping them all off…”
“All right, all right!” She banished their clothing with a flick of magic.
Naked, wearing only Kel’s scabbard slung across his back, Gawain strode toward the couch. Lark met the dragon’s jeweled gaze over a broad, brawny shoulder. “Is he always like this?”
“No, actually.” Instead of the amusement she’d expected, the dragon’s expression was thoughtful. “You seem to have gotten under his skin.”
“Go to sleep, Kel.” Gawain slid one hand out from under Lark’s legs as he reached back to angle the scabbard out of the way. As she grabbed for his shoulders, he sat down on the couch. “We’re about to get a little busy.”
“I rest my case. He’s not usually this rude.” The dragon rolled his eyes, then obediently closed them and stiffened into solid steel.
Lark shook her head at Gawain, caught halfway between irritation and lingering desire. “I know you’re hungry, but for God’s sake…ahhhh!” She yelped as he caught her under the backside, lifted her like a rag doll and draped her thighs over his shoulders, then buried his face against her sex.
“Gawain!” Startled, Lark grabbed for his wrists as he lowered her torso until her head and shoulders rested on the floor, her back against his shins. She squirmed and yelped, feeling completely helpless. “What the hell are you doing?”
Wicked amusement rumbled in his voice. “Eating dinner.” His tongue flicked over her clit, swirling around the hard little button before he closed his lips and suckled it into a red-hot knot of pleasure.
“Oh my God!” Lark gasped, bucking in his hold.
He chuckled and slid one hand down the length of her body to cup her breast. Licking and teasing, he simultaneously thumbed her nipple until her nervous system buzzed like a cricket.
“Gawain!” she moaned, squirming helplessly. She couldn’t believe he was doing this. He’d been dominant before, but this stark sexual conquest was outrageous.
Not to mention wickedly arousing.
Ignoring her writhing struggles, Gawain slid his tongue deep in her sex in a wet, luscious caress while scissoring the tip of her breast between two strong fingers.
It felt amazing.
Groaning, she tightened her legs until she could roll her hips against his mouth.
Gawain lifted his head slightly and grinned at her, his mouth wet, his gaze wicked. “Like that?” Releasing her breast, he reached between her thighs before lowering his head to suckle her again. A long, skillful finger pumped deep in and out of her core, each plunge spiking her pleasure hotter.
“God, yes!” She felt utterly helpless in his powerful grip, her senses overcome by his mouth and plunging fingers. Any lingering outrage drowned without a whimper.
An orgasm began to gather low in her belly, coiling tighter as he closed his lips over her clit and sucked ruthlessly.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered helplessly, rolling her head on the carpeted floor as the pleasure surged through her in a burning wave. “Morrrre…”
Gawain picked her up again, lifting her high and spreading her wide. Startled, she grabbed for his shoulders, meeting his fierce, satisfied gaze as he positioned her over his erection. As if she weighed no more than a rag doll, he lowered her onto his rigid cock.
Lark stiffened and gasped as its meaty length slid into her. “Gawain!” She dug her nails desperately into his shoulders. In this position, he felt a foot long.
“Yes?” His feral grin bared his fangs as he rolled his hips upward, driving that incredible cock deep.
Unable to answer, Lark could only writhe.
At first it was almost too much as she felt him pushing his way into her tight, slick flesh. She whimpered, the sound blending pain and pleasure.
He froze and searched her eyes. “You okay?”
She panted, her body adjusting slowly to his stark invasion. He was just so damned big. “’M fine.”
“You sure?”
Her body was beginning to report its delight with his massive cock. “Yeah. Oh, yeah!” She gasped as her hunger began to rise again. “More…”
Gawain’s smile was tight and feral. “Good.” Slowly, carefully, he started thrusting.
Lark groaned. Each stroke felt luscious, overwhelming. She shuddered in pleasure, staring into his hot, green eyes. His handsome face was tight with fierce desire, his teeth gritted as he fought for control.
“That better?” he demanded, grinding up at her.
“Oh, God!” she whimpered. “Oh, man!”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He bit his lip and increased the pace, delving his cock deep between her tight, slick walls. Faster, then faster, each stroke tightening the spring of her orgasm until it pulsed on the edge of explosion.
Increasingly desperate for more of the sizzling pleasure, she began to meet his thrusts, grinding down on his thick shaft.
“Gawain!” She threw her head back and screamed as the climax boiled out of nowhere with a furious storm of delight.
A big hand locked in her hair, pulling her head to the side. He leaned in and sank his fangs into her throat.
Lark jolted, feeling Gawain’s massive cock thrusting deep into her even as he began to drink. Overcome, she clung to him as the pulses of pleasure went on, as sweetly merciless as Gawain himself.
Gawain drank, rolling his hips upward into Lark’s slim, lovely body. With every thrust, need curled tighter and tighter in his balls. He wrapped his arms around her, loving the silken feel of her skin under his hands. She shivered, a delicious little tremble that hit him like a punch in the gut.
His orgasm roared up in a hot blast. He stiffened and cried out against her throat.
The storm went on, pulsing fiercely, driving him to arch his back and drive himself to his full length. Gasping, he held himself there for a long, luscious moment before collapsing back against the couch.
“Man,” Lark whispered.
“Yeah,” he panted, his heart thundering.
“That was…”
“Yeah.”
They fell silent as they fought for air, content to cling together for mutual support.
Suddenly a new impression made its way into Gawain’s pleasure-saturated mind. Lark felt so delicate, so fragile in his arms.
And so…precious.
He’d made love to countless women, Majae and otherwise, since becoming a vampire all those centuries ago, but somehow the experience had never had such pure resonance to it. As if it meant far more than simply feeding a driving physical need.
Merlin’s beard, he thought, stunned.
Were Arthur and the knights right after all? Was he falling for Lark?
TWELVE
Diera cried out as her climax broke over her like a wave of honeyed fire, sweet and burning at once. Automatically, she tightened the grip of her legs around Antonio’s narrow hips, pulling him closer. That was all it took. He slammed to his full delicious length and roared out his pleasure.
At last Antonio collapsed over her, mantling her in his warm, sweating weight. “Christ, woman,” he moaned into her neck, “you’re killing me!”
“You’re an immortal. You’ll get better.” She smiled, smug as a cat, and curled her arms around his powerful back. They’d already made love once tonight after returning from the High Council’s Joint Session, and her throat still stung from his fangs. She didn’t care. It had been exquisite.
“Insatiable wench.” Antonio rolled over onto his back, tugging her on top of him. As he looked up at her, the smile faded from his face. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”
There was so much awe in his eyes, she found herself believing him.
What’s more, he made her feel be
autiful. Made her feel young for the first time in a long time. Every time he touched her, she felt more and more of the old bitterness flaking away. Years of loneliness meant nothing in Antonio’s arms.
“The beautiful one in this bed is you,” she told him, stroking a hand through his long, tangled dark hair.
His lips twitched. “You do realize we’re on the verge of getting gooey.”
“I’ll risk it if you will.”
In answer, he threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her head down for another of those long, dizzying kisses.
When they came up for air again, Diera let herself collapse across his chest, feeling as boneless as a silk scarf. She thought back over the months she’d known him, remembering how long she’d tried to pretend he was only a green boy instead of the warrior he was.
Bless Morgana’s spell for uniting them. Antonio had instantly recognized the assignment as the opening he’d been looking for and had devoted himself to seducing her.
She’d managed to resist him for barely three hours. No surprise, really, considering the groundwork he’d laid over the past months.
“How did I stay away from you so long?” Diera murmured softly.
“I have no idea. I’ve been working on you for months. I thought I’d never get you into bed.”
“I’ve been an idiot.” Thoughtfully, she combed her fingers through his tangled hair. “Lark and Gawain looked good together tonight.”
Antonio stiffened. “Do not mention that man’s name in my bed.”
She lifted her head and grinned, perversely pleased with his show of jealousy. “Cool that hot Italian blood. I only meant she’s good for him. Better than I ever was.” Diera sobered. “Probably because I was never really in love with him.”
Her lover went still, searching her eyes. “What leads you to that conclusion?”
“You,” she said simply. “I never felt the way about him that I do about you.”
His muscular chest rose beneath her as he caught his breath.
“I thought I should love him,” Diera said softly. “He was everything I thought I wanted, after all. But we never really fit, and he knew it. That’s why he refused to Truebond with me. He was wiser than I was.”
“He was an idiot.”
“No. He just wasn’t you.”
“Truebond with me.” Antonio’s eyes widened, as if he’d spoken the words without intending to. “I mean…”
For a moment she thought the panic in his eyes was a fear she’d take him seriously when he hadn’t really meant the words. Disappointment clutched at her soul.
Then strong hands clutched her shoulders. “Don’t send me away. I know this is sudden—I can wait. But let me stay.”
Diera stared down into his handsome, pleading face, realizing his panic was born of the fear she’d reject him. Warmth expanded in her chest, melting that last chip of bitter ice buried in her heart. She cupped his cheek in her hand. “Do you really think me foolish enough to throw away such a precious gift?”
Thick, dark brows furled, and he searched her gaze. “Don’t be kind to me. Don’t let me hope if you only mean to let me down gently.”
She snorted. “Gawain could tell you I’m anything but kind.”
“I repeat, Gawain is an idiot.” Anger snapped in his eyes, mixed with a gratifying flash of jealousy.
“And I repeat, I never felt about him the way I feel about you.”
Hope leaped in his gaze. “Does that mean…?”
Her heart demanded she seize this chance with both hands, but she was too honest for that. “I would love nothing more than to Truebond with you, Antonio. Sharing a link with that lovely soul of yours would be the greatest pleasure in my long life. But we’ve only known each other a few months.”
“I can wait.” His hands tightened around her waist. “Just give me a chance to win you.”
She took his face between both hands. “Antonio, you already have. I’ve known countless Magi, seduced them and been seduced by them. I’ve never known a man like you. And I want to bind you fast to my soul. But you’re so young…”
“Not so young that I don’t know what I want.” Anger tightened his deliciously masculine mouth. “I may not be centuries old, but I’m not a boy either. I’ve romanced more than my share of Majae, and I know when the Desire is trying to do my thinking for me. God knows you’ve got its enthusiastic support, but my heart, my soul, and my mind want you even more.” He tilted up his chin in challenge. “Touch my thoughts and see.”
Diera closed her eyes and let her consciousness flow through her fingertips. He made not the slightest attempt to block her, opening himself without flinching.
Contact.
She caught her breath as she saw him completely for the first time.
Antonio was right. There was nothing boyish about him. Instead, she found power, strong and sure and very male. Flaws, too—he battled a certain bitter jealousy of Gawain for holding her love for so long—but he didn’t try to hide them from her.
But even more than that, she sensed Antonio’s basic decency, the fierce desire to protect and nurture those weaker than he. Which, she realized as she touched him, was almost everyone.
Most of all, she sensed his love for her. It had grown in him slowly as he’d worked with her and Lark, but he’d thought it fruitless. He’d believed he’d had no chance against Gawain’s memory. But when Morgana’s spell had partnered them, he’d seen his chance, and he’d taken it.
He’d been thinking about Truebonding with her for days now, but he’d been afraid to say anything, fearing her rejection.
Rejecting him was the last thing on her mind. They belonged together. It didn’t matter how briefly they’d known each other, or how long she’d known other men.
This was right.
Still, she had to remind him. If we do this and one of us dies, it could kill the other.
Or the healthy one could keep the injured from dying, he said. Either way, I’ll accept the risk. One thousand years or one hour, being with you will be worth it.
Diera smiled into his handsome face. That’s all I needed to hear. Closing her eyes, she called her magic and let it spill over them in a warm flood. In seconds, its intensity built to a white-hot burn that melted their mental barriers like mist in the sun.
She felt him. Felt him far more profoundly than she had a moment before, felt him sinking into her very bones and blood, felt his strength and sure power and keen intelligence wash over her like warm, sweet sunlight. And he felt her. In the mirror of his mind, she saw herself as he did, all fierce will and pride and wit. Saw the beauty that took his breath.
As the Truebond snapped into full force, Antonio’s eyes widened with a child’s wonder, then narrowed with a man’s satisfaction. There you are.
She could feel him like a sweet and glorious dimension just waiting to be explored. Yes, here I am.
Silent as a wolf, wrapped in an invisibility spell, Richard moved around the outskirts of Avalon. His heart pounded in long, strong beats, and his palms were damp. Yet beneath that anxiety, his entire body thrummed with borrowed magic.
The spell his dragon ally had given him had worked, allowing him to punch through the city’s shields without being detected. Still, Richard knew all it would take to doom him was some clever Maja sensing the death magic at his heart. Even the dragon’s power couldn’t save him from the collective rage of the Magekind.
Perversely, Richard found that thought only added to the knife-edged excitement pouring through him. Despite the odds, he was going to pull this off. He could feel it in every cell. He was going to find the Maja he was looking for, kill her, and steal her magic.
And Bors was next.
Luckily, he had a good idea of his target’s location. Richard knew this section of the city well; he’d spent his boyhood playing knight in the manicured gardens of the surrounding homes. He’d dreamed of being a hero then. Becoming a Magus like his father, fighting evil, and feeding from beautiful Ma
jae.
Living forever.
Instead Bors had told him he didn’t deserve to be a Magus, and the Magekind had turned their backs on him. Even his own mother had washed her hands of him.
She was dead now, killed by one of Geirolf ’s sorcerers. Somewhere deep within him, the boy Richard had once been grieved for her.
But the man he’d become thought it was no more than she deserved. After all, she’d rejected her own flesh and blood.
Still, every time he killed one of the cultists, he thought of her.
And now, there was nothing to stop him from killing Bors, or anybody else for that matter. They were all bought and paid for as far as he was concerned.
Like the one whose house he slipped toward now.
He knew her well. She’d served him cookies as a child and made him laugh with her magic. He’d dreamed about her as a teenager—hot, sweaty dreams of becoming a Magus while thrusting between her long legs.
When Bors had rejected him, he’d used the charm she’d once given him to call her. She’d come, and his heart had leaped with hope.
But when he begged her to give him Merlin’s Gift, she’d refused, her gaze level and cold. She’d come, she said, to tell him she’d heard about his teenaged indiscretions. “Turn away from the path you follow, Richard. You can still live a productive life as a mortal.” Her eyes had hardened even more. “But a mortal is all you can ever be.”
Humiliated tears in his eyes, he’d cursed her. She’d had the gall to look pitying before she gated away.
Well, she was the one who’d deserve pity by the time he was done with her.
Richard went through the wards against her elegant French chateau as if they weren’t even there. Even the massive double doors melted away at his approach. He stepped into the marble foyer with a sensation of triumph. A cool smile on his face, he scanned the crystal chandelier high overhead, then flicked a glance down to the bronze statue of Diana that held a place of honor directly beneath it.
Such elegance. Such riches. Too bad none of it would save her.
Master of Swords Page 18
