Master of the Moon

by Angela Knight

  With a thought, Adsulata clothed herself in a glittering gown that bared more of her lush body than it hid. A single stroke of her hand drew her violet hair into soft, sleek waves.

  Then, content with her beauty, she stepped through the gate to meet the one she loved. Her nipples tingled and hardened, her arousal heightened by the knowledge that she’d found the one lover who would enrage her husband most.

  As the gate vanished, King Ansgar Galatyn smiled slowly, and her heart beat faster at the hint of cruelty in the curve of his lips. “Well met, my darling.”

  When Diana returned to the chief’s office an hour later, she found the blue-haired guard standing at attention out side the door. He stepped forward with a snap and opened it for her.

  Lifting a brow, she walked in and he shut it behind her. Naois stood inside just to the left of the door, chest out, back straight, heels together. Which didn’t prevent him from watching her like a hawk.

  “Hello again, Your Majesty,” she said to Llyr, pausing to look up into the dark guard’s inhumanly beautiful face. “Before we leave, I think there’s a couple of things I’ll need to make clear.”

  The king glanced up from the thick tome he was reading. With a gesture, he made it disappear as he leaned back in his chair. “Go on.”

  Diana inhaled, drinking in the scent of magic and masculinity as she looked up at Naois. Rising onto her toes, she leaned toward the guard and angled her head, not quite touching him as she gave him a slow, seductive smile. His black eyes widened. Testing, she rested a hand on his chest, feeling the warmth and muscle beneath the linen of his suit. He tensed, then relaxed slightly as she did nothing more. She paused another moment, letting him breathe her magical scent. His heart began to pound under her hand. She licked her lips. Heat blazed up in his eyes. Around the room, the other men shifted restlessly.

  “First,” Diana said softly, “I think you should know that any man who tried to put a leash on me would regret it.” Her nails extended, growing into curving, two-inch claws. “Deeply.” She dropped her hand. “And second, the Direkind have better hearing than the Sidhe.”

  Point made, she turned away from the astonished guard to meet Llyr’s chagrined gaze. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I’ll take you to your motel.”

  The king hesitated a moment, obviously taken aback. “I apologize if my men’s comments offended you.”

  Diana gave him a smile that felt more than a little stiff. She’d been steaming for the past hour. Leash, my ass. “Think nothing of it. Shall we go?”

  When she turned to lead them from the room, she was satisfied to note wary respect in Naois’s dark eyes.

  Diana led her handsome Sidhe parade out of the building and into the parking lot to Gist’s big, black SUV. “We wouldn’t fit in my car, so I borrowed the chief’s,” she explained, keying the lock open with her fob and reaching for the driver’s door.

  The four men watched as she opened it. Egan awkwardly copied the motion with the back door and stood back as Bevyn and Llyr slid inside.

  “How long has it been since any of you rode in a car?” Diana asked as she and Naois got in.

  “Never.” When she looked in the rearview mirror at him, he shrugged. “I haven’t been to Earth in a century or so.” He examined the upholstery. “Though this is much more comfortable than the last coach I was in.”

  “Glad you approve.” Deciding she didn’t even want to attempt to explain seatbelts—the Sidhe were immortal anyway—she started the truck and pulled out. The motel was located out on the interstate, so they had a ten-minute drive ahead of them.

  “Tell me about your encounter with the vampire,” Llyr said as they started off.

  Diana complied, trying not to inhale as she spoke. There was far too much delicious masculinity sitting much too close, but she was determined to ignore her rumbling sexual hunger. After the bitch in heat crack, she had no intention of handing her arrogant Sidhe visitors any more ammunition.

  It was really too bad. If they weren’t such jerks, the Sidhe would be the answer to Diana’s Burning Moon prayers. She wouldn’t have to worry about infecting one of them if she got carried away during sex and bit her partner.

  That much of the myth was true: Merlin’s Curse spread through Direkind saliva, something like rabies. The Fey wizard had designed it that way, at least according to Granddad. The idea was that if the Magekind ever went evil, the Direkind could create an army in the space of a few days just by biting their new recruits. And since the Direkind was practically immune to magic, they could take anything their rivals could dish out.

  The problem was, Merlin’s Curse was even more contagious during the Burning Moon. A werewolf female had to be damn careful who she slept with at that time of year. One-night stands were out of the question, since it was too easy to infect a casual lover. Werewolf males, at least, only got really contagious when they had a strong emotional attachment with their partner, so one-night stands were all they did.

  Luckily the Sidhe were magical creatures, immune to the bite. She couldn’t infect one of them if she tried.

  Diana flicked her gaze to the mirror to catch a glimpse of Llyr’s face. Something in her tightened and purred. Seducing him would shut her libido up for a while, making it easier to concentrate on the problem of the vampire.

  Trouble was, it would also confirm the Sidhe’s “bitch in heat” theory. She really didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

  Diana frowned, drumming her nails on the steering wheel as she stopped at a light. Glancing toward the passenger side, she noticed Naois was staring at her hand. She looked down and realized her nails had grown into claws again. She stopped drumming and curled her fist around the wheel.

  This was ridiculous.

  By the time they pulled into the motel parking lot, her body was buzzing like a cricket. But as she reached for the truck door to get out, a thought pierced the fog of lust. “Wait a minute—how are you going to pay for the motel?”

  Llyr shrugged, watching Egan try to figure out the door latch. “With gold, of course.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. Your Majesty, you can’t do that.”

  “It’s perfectly good gold,” he said, offended.

  Diana grappled for patience. “Gold is not legal tender in the United States. The motel clerk would have no way to convert it. Besides, he’s going to expect an FBI agent to use a credit card.”

  “What is this?”

  She grabbed her bag from the passenger side floorboard, her libido growling like a Doberman when she reached past Naois’s legs to do it. Digging out a credit card, she handed it back to the king.

  Llyr glanced down at it. Light flared between his fingers, and there were two cards in his hand. “Now we have a credit card.”

  “Neat trick. May I see that?”

  The king handed it to her. The brush of his fingers touching hers sent a bolt of heat through her she tried to ignore as she looked down at the card. “This is my card, Your Majesty. It’s got my name and bank number on it.”

  Even his frown was gorgeous. “And this signifies?”

  “That the rooms would be charged to me. And I’d have to pay for them. The card means I have an account and a line of credit with this bank, which I pay on every month. It’s a loan.”

  Llyr gestured. Light flashed between her fingers. She looked down, and wasn’t remotely surprised to see the name now read Llyr A. Galatyn. Diana sighed. “Did you magic an account with this bank?”

  He shrugged. “No, because I do not know how the system works.”

  “Give the mortal a bag of gold,” Naois growled, impatient. “And bespell him into accepting it.”

  “Yeah, and then when he tries to deposit it, real FBI agents are going to show up asking real questions I really can’t afford to answer.” Patience was definitely not her long suit at this time of year. “Which would also apply if you tried to create cash. You’d get the serial numbers wrong, and then I’d end up charged as an accessory
to counterfeiting.”

  “This is wasting time,” Llyr said. “We will simply gate from the palace when we need to.”

  “Look,” Diana snapped, “I don’t want you beaming in and out in front of people like Captain Kirk. It’ll cause talk.”

  “If I don’t want them to talk,” Llyr said coolly, “they won’t talk.”

  She threw up her hands. “I’ll pay for the damned hotel room, okay?” Swinging the door open, she got out and slammed it with more force than was strictly necessary.

  “As you wish.” Her lupine hearing picked up Llyr’s reply as his men figured out how to open the door latches. “I’ll give the gold to you.”

  “Fine,” Diana muttered. “It’ll make a great paperweight.”

  Twenty minutes later, she was trying to show the Sidhe how to use a key card to open one of the rooms.

  The second time Bevyn flubbed the sequence of insert card-wait for green light-turn handle, Llyr gestured. Magic flared. The door swung open, and his men trooped in to check for assassins. “You make everything more complicated than it needs to be,” the king told her.

  Diana showed her teeth. “Bite me.”

  She thought he muttered, “I am tempted.”

  FIVE

  The little werewolf was abrupt and arrogant, verging on rude. Llyr had never been treated with so little deference in his very long life. She obviously had no understanding of his power and authority, and not the faintest concept of how to deal with royalty.

  He had no idea why he found her so appealing.

  Leaning against the bathroom door, he watched her try to demonstrate the workings of the plumbing to his guard. He didn’t bother telling her how inadequate these quarters were for a king and his retinue.

  “Would you object,” Llyr asked finally, “if we gated from inside this room? There’s no reason for us to actually stay here.”

  “No, of course not.” She smiled slightly, looking around at the two beds with their ugly blue coverings and the furniture that was made of pressed sawdust rather than solid board. “This isn’t exactly a palace, is it?”

  “Would you like to see a palace, Diana?” The offer was pure impulse, but he found himself hoping she would accept. “You are welcome to take the noon meal with us. We could discuss strategy.”

  She turned to look at him. A shaft of sunlight through the window sparked a flash of silver in the depths of her lovely eyes. “I’d like that.”

  It was her turn to hesitate when he opened the Mageverse gate. Llyr listened to her gasp at the magic that rushed over her skin as she followed him through the glowing opening. When he turned to look at her as she saw the palace towering around them for the first time, her expression of awe made his chest warm.

  He couldn’t resist taking her on a tour.

  It was odd. Llyr had lived in the palace for all seventeen hundred years of his life, but it was as if he’d never seen it until he saw Diana’s eyes light up.

  White marble gleamed underfoot, checkered with jeweled tiles. He looked up with pride at the soaring columns that supported the marble ceiling with gold buttresses. Intricate tapestries shimmered on the wall, woven with the protective wards that guarded the palace. Vases of enchanted flowers filled inset niches, and the furniture was as intricate and glimmered with Sidhe workmanship.

  Llyr found himself folding Diana’s long, soft hand into the curve of his arm as he led her around the palace. Her eyes rounded as Sidhe in silk, velvet, and jewels paused to bow to him in greeting. As he spoke to them, he breathed in her scent—human, yet not, tinged with something feral and sweet. It was fortunate he wasn’t wearing his usual doublet and hose, for lust hardened his sex behind the fly of his mortal-style breeches. He remembered his dream the night before, recalled the way she’d stroked over him like a cat. Shuddering, he hardened still more.

  Even as need clawed at him, he knew he should ignore it. He had a killer to catch, not to mention a whole list of responsibilities to his people and his line. Poor Janieda was scarcely in her grave. And she was only the latest in the list of women who’d died in his war with Ansgar.

  Despite his dream, Diana was not his destined queen. She couldn’t be.

  He glanced down. She’d turned her face away from his, apparently studying one of the tapestries they passed. Hot red painted the elegant curve of her cheek.

  She was blushing.

  Llyr took an involuntary breath, and her scent told him why. She’d gone wet. It was as though just the touch of his arm, the brush of his body had aroused her with the intensity another woman might feel after an hour of serious foreplay.

  He remembered her voice in the dream: “I burn…”

  And now so did he.

  Diana tried to concentrate on the lovely face of the Dowager Queen as Llyr introduced them. Oriana Galatyn did not look like any grandmother she’d ever seen, and those iridescent eyes were sharp as they flicked from her face to Llyr’s.

  Diana didn’t think she was imagining the disapproval in the Dowager’s gaze. Another Sidhe in the bitch-in-heat camp, she thought, and was relieved when Llyr led her off on the rest of the tour.

  The trouble was, she was beginning to feel that condemnation wasn’t all that far off the mark.

  At any other time, Diana would have been fascinated by the intricate frescoes and paintings, the parade of exquisitely beautiful people who stopped and nodded and spoke, worshipping Llyr with their eyes.

  But with the Burning Moon breathing fire across her skin, all she could feel was heat. She kept remembering the way he’d looked in the dream, his golden hair spilling across his pillows, his opalescent eyes sultry with need.

  With her hand tucked into the curve of his arm like this, it was too easy to feel the apple-firm muscle of his biceps shifting beneath his fine linen jacket. The warmth of his body radiated right up through the fabric. Every time he took a step, his hip brushed hers.

  Diana ached to peel that jacket off him and claw away the shirt until she could touch bare flesh. Her head was so full of his scent, she could almost taste him on her tongue.

  I’m not an animal, dammit. Despite the times she felt like one.

  Diana was so busy struggling with her hungers she didn’t even notice when he led her into one of the rooms until the click of the closing door brought her out of her stupor.

  Glancing around, she saw they stood in a bedroom filled with furniture so elegant and delicate, it would have made Versailles look vulgar. An enormous bed hung with red silk took up one side of the room, while a beautiful bathing pool occupied the other. A tapestry depicting a magnificent blue dragon swirled across one wall, shimmering with magic that illuminated the entire room.

  Diana’s heart gave an annoying bounce at the thought of being alone with Llyr in such a room, so she looked around for his men. They were nowhere to be seen.

  “Where are your guards?”

  “Guarding.” Llyr’s smile was tight. “From outside the door.” From the heat in his eyes, the Sidhe king was as tired of denying his body’s needs as she was.

  Diana took a deep breath. “This is not a good idea.”

  He didn’t even acknowledge her point. “Do you remember the dream?” His voice sounded low, rough, far from its usual urbane purr.

  She looked away and cleared her throat. “What dream?”

  “You know perfectly well what dream. The one where I almost took you.”

  “Or I took you.”

  The triumph in his grin made her curse her unruly tongue. “As you will.”

  Diana stepped away from him. Her heart was pounding. “Like I said, this really isn’t a good idea, Your Majesty.”

  “It may, however, be the only way either of us will stay sane.”

  “Or it may make a bad situation worse.”

  “You’re wet.” He said it like a challenge as he started toward her, stalking. “I can smell it.”

  Diana wished he hadn’t mentioned that, because now that she thought about it, she could smel
l his need, too. Spotting a window, she strode over to swing it open. Even the shutters were edged in gilt.

  A cooling breeze flowed into her face, smelling of alien flowers. “It’s the Burning Moon,” she managed. “I can’t help it. My hormones always go nuts this time of year. It tends to…affect men.”

  “It’s certainly affected me.” Llyr stopped just behind her. She could feel the heat of him all up and down her body. He took another step, and she felt the brush of his coat against her back. “In the dream, you said you burned, Diana.” His breath caressed the side of her face in a warm puff. “I offered to make you burn brighter.” The king’s voice dropped to a register she could feel in secret, female places. “The offer is still open.”

  Yessss, the Need whispered.

  Diana closed her eyes, trying to fight it. But God, it was hard. Year after year she’d battled the Burning Moon, and every year it had grown worse, as though her lack of a mate offended it.

  And there were easily two more weeks of this to go. She couldn’t survive it, not if she was supposed to work with him. Not if he was going to push her.

  A growl rumbled deep in her throat. Diana was scarcely aware of it. She whirled on him. Opalescent eyes stared down into hers. And then she was kissing him with all the hunger in her starving soul.

  Llyr’s arms came around her, warm and hard and strong. Suddenly desperate, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, dragged at it, trying to unwrap his luscious body so she could feast her hands and her mouth and her eyes. Something tore. He laughed, the sound at once ragged with hunger and rich with male satisfaction.

  The king hooked strong fingers in the lapels of her blouse, jerked. Buttons bounced, clicking on the marble floor, but she was too busy trying to get him out of his jacket to care. Cupping her breasts, he studied the lace cups that covered them. “What is this?”

  “Bra,” she gasped.

  He caught the fabric in both hands and pulled down. Her nipples popped free, swollen violently pink. “I like it.” Then his hot mouth covered the nearest peak, and she cried out.