Master of Seduction (Merlin's Legacy 1)

by Angela Knight

  Rachel had done well in those tests, but she knew that might mean precisely zip when it came to whatever Nathan had in mind.

  “I suspect you’ll find the Avalon version a little more challenging. We fought some pretty weird crap a decade or so ago. Demons, giant bears, an enormous snake the length of a bus.” He grimaced as if in a particularly nasty memory.

  Rachel stared at him. “I thought you guys fought people like Nazis and assorted witch-burning assholes.”

  “We did, for most of our history, but we went through a very bad stretch in the mid-2000s. A demonic alien escaped from a prison Merlin locked him in centuries ago. He caused all sorts of chaos even after we killed him, thanks to his assorted nasty followers. It took a long time to clean up that mess, and we’re still dealing with the fallout.”

  “Oriana didn’t mention any of that.”

  “She damn well better not have. That crap was ‘I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you’ stuff.” He shook his head. “If you think being Magekind means you’ll always be ridiculously overpowered compared to the normal humans you fight, think again. And it’s important to remember that even when we do fight normal humans, they’ve got us outnumbered millions to one.”

  Rachel opened her mouth to question him further, but then Oriana walked back in. She handed Nathan a flat wooden box. “As requested. One headset for her, one for you, both loaded with those scenarios you wanted. But be advised -- they also record, and I will be double checking the results.” Judging by her glower, she’d better agree with any conclusions he drew.

  Gee gave Rachel a look that was considerably warmer. “If you need me, don’t hesitate to call. When you decide to head home for the day, I’ll be happy to open a gate back to your apartment.”

  A new thought occurred to Rachel. “How? This is the Mageverse. I’m pretty sure Verizon doesn’t have a cell tower in Avalon.” She bit her lip. “Damn, I hope nobody from the Sheriff’s Office called while I was here.”

  Oriana held out a hand. “Give me your cell, and I’ll enchant it.”

  She obeyed. Gee took it and closed her eyes. The ozone tang of magic stung Rachel’s nose, though she didn’t actually see anything. A moment later, the witch handed the phone back. “Don’t worry, you didn’t miss any calls from the department.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  Nathan stood. “If that’s all…”

  He headed out. Rachel got up to follow him, but Gee grabbed her forearm. “If you need me, I’m here.”

  “You always have been.”

  Nathan stopped at the door to shoot them an impatient look. “If you ladies don’t mind, we have a lot to get done before dawn.”

  “Bye, Gee.” She hurried after his broad, black-clad back as he strode through the house.

  They emerged through an intricately carved door onto stone steps that led down to a cobblestone drive. Rachel glanced up at the night sky -- and stared, her jaw dropping. Alien constellations spilled overhead in a river of light brighter than any stars she’d ever seen back home. The sky was dominated by a swirl of iridescent light she knew must be a nearby nebula. A quarter moon hung in the cloudless sky, spilling pearlescent light over the clusters of trees and elaborate flowerbeds that filled the lawn.

  I’m really not on Earth anymore.

  This was the Mageverse -- a parallel dimension where magic was a law of physics, making this universe’s Earth a much different place than the one where she’d been born.

  “Are you coming?” Nathan demanded, turning to look at her from halfway down the drive.

  “Oh. Yeah.” As she hurried in his wake, she stared around in dazzled awe. Buildings from a hundred different times, countries and architectural styles stood together: French chateaus like Oriana’s, honest-to-Arthur castles, Federalist and Georgian architecture, plantation houses, Italianate mansions. The street was cobblestone, and huge marble fountains stood here and there, surrounded by topiary and filling the night with the gentle splash and murmur of falling water.

  “Oh wow,” she said softly.

  Nathan chuckled. For once, there was no mockery in his voice. “Witch ego in action.”

  “What?”

  He gestured at one particularly impressive Gilded Age manse. “Everything you see was created by witches, either separately or acting in groups. But the idea is basically to show off. The bigger the building, the older and more powerful the Maja -- at least most of the time. The really old Majae consider this kind of thing a little vulgar, because they don’t have to prove anything to anybody. After all, if you’ve been Magekind for 1500 years, everybody knows you’re a heavy hitter.”

  Even more awed, she eyed the Gothic stone spires and massive walls. “So… I’ll be able to conjure something like that?”

  The humor fell from his eyes. “Assuming you survive the Gift -- and I give it to you.”

  He was starting to piss her off. “Look, I’ll survive. This is what I trained for from the time I was a child. Oriana did not go easy on us. Yes, I do understand what the price of being a Maja may be. Gee never sugarcoated anything.”

  His sensual mouth flattened. “Then why are you the first Kent in two generations to be offered the Gift? It’s not because we didn’t need the personnel. It’s because the Majae’s Council concluded the others would have gone mad. Oriana submitted name after name for consideration, but they were all turned down.”

  She stared at him. “You mean my mother… ? My aunt… ?”

  “Weren’t approved. The fact is, the majority of Latents wouldn’t be able to survive the Gift -- and there are a hell of a lot of people carrying that spell in their DNA after fifteen hundred years of us running around siring kids. Only a fraction of one percent are chosen, and some of them still go insane despite everything we can do to weed them out. And we don’t know why.”

  “Can’t the Majae do anything to save them? I mean, as powerful as they are…”

  Nathan didn’t answer for a long moment. Finally, he sighed. “A few years ago, Morgana created a magical collar designed to contain a new Maja’s power. The idea was to let each candidate gain her abilities gradually, with the hope she’d be able to control it better. It should’ve worked. That collar was even able to contain Morgana’s power -- and she’s the most powerful Maja we’ve got. But the very first Latent they tried it out on blew out the collar. Merlin’s Gift was simply too powerful for it. The girl went into a paranoid rage, and Bonnhome had to kill her.”

  “Damn,” she murmured, chilled. “Why would Merlin cast a spell that does that to people?”

  “He didn’t design it that way. It seems to be a side effect of the Mageverse hitting some human brains.” He studied her as they walked. “I want to give you every chance to survive. These tests will give both of us a chance to think about this, to make absolutely sure it’s what you want to do.”

  “But it is what I want to do.”

  “And every single Latent I have ever Gifted -- including the ones I had to kill -- said the exact same thing. I’m sick of killing girls I just made love to. Especially considering I’m the one who turned them into magical IEDs.”

  Daddy, daddy, daddy…

  “I appreciate the concern. But I’m not going to give up. And I will survive my transition.”

  Nathan’s face went stony. Turning away, he lengthened his stride. Rachel didn’t have to break into a run to keep up, but it was close.

  A few blocks away, he turned down a walkway that led to an impressive Greek Revival home with tall arched windows and wrought iron balconies. It wasn’t that large compared to most of the houses they’d passed, but it wasn’t exactly tiny either.

  “If Majae use magic to build their houses, where did you get yours?” Vampires couldn’t work spells beyond healing or turning into a wolf. For anything more, they needed a witch.

  He shrugged. “I rescued a Maja after she was captured by a team of Geiroff’s psychotic followers. She built the house for me to show her gratitude.”

&
nbsp; “So where do the other vampires live?”

  “Depends. The Majae built an apartment complex for the rookies. Sometimes a Maja you partner with frequently will build you something. It’s a big favor -- it takes a lot of magic, and it wipes the witch out for days.”

  “So the houses are permanent? Because it would really suck if the place disappeared around you while you were on the second floor.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, they’re pretty sturdy. Though I’ll admit, if the witch who created them dies, they do go away. Luckily, Majae don’t generally die that often.” He grimaced. “Not unless something nasty and magical is doing the killing. We don’t get that a lot, thank Merlin.”

  The house was as impressive inside as out, with tile floors, stained glass windows, and massive furniture, all leather and dark wood. The house wasn’t quite as packed with art and antiques as Oriana’s, but it was obvious why Gee had called it an armory. Exquisite swords, spears, axes, shields, dueling pistols, and assorted other weapons hung on the walls. A suit of plate armor, elaborately engraved, stood gleaming in the house’s foyer. As Rachel followed him over elegant black-and-white marble tiles, she found herself imagining how she’d decorate her own place.

  Assuming she survived the transition.

  Better not even think about that. It was never a good idea to dwell on all the things that might go wrong before you went into a dangerous situation. That could become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

  Nathan led the way into a long, narrow space with an arched ceiling she first assumed was a ballroom. But what really riveted her attention were the pair of murals that ran the length of opposing walls. The paintings depicted Renaissance duelists facing off against each other armed with rapiers, all deadly grace and lethal intent. One of them bore a distinct resemblance to Nathan.

  While she paused to admire one of the murals, he walked to a huge armoire that stood against the room’s back wall. Swinging its double doors open, he revealed an impressive collection of swords, axes, daggers, and quarterstaffs. Nathan put the box Oriana had given him into a drawer, then paused to contemplate the blade collection.

  He really did have the most incredible back -- broad shouldered, narrowing to a tight waist and a deliciously muscled ass under those black jeans. When he started to turn, she jerked her eyes guiltily away. A hint of a smile curved his seductive mouth, and she knew he’d caught her staring. “Keep your mind on business and off my dick. It’s by no means a sure thing you’re going to get it.” He tossed a sword at her.

  Startled, Rachel almost missed the catch. Her cheeks heating ferociously, she studied the weapon. Though it had the heft and metallic gleam of steel, when she touched the blade, it gave beneath her fingers. “What’s this made of?”

  “It’s spelled for use during practice, giving it the same weight and balance as a real blade. You’d have to work to hurt someone with it, and even if you did, I could call a healer.” He sauntered to the middle of the room and gave her a taunting finger wave. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “I thought we were going to use Gee’s circlets.”

  “Not this first time. She said she trained you in swordplay. I want to see whether the lessons took.”

  In other words, I’m about to get my ass kicked. Rachel had no illusions. Not only was Nathan a vampire, he was six or seven inches taller than she was, he’d been a professional swordsman during the Renaissance, and he had four hundred years of combat experience.

  Still, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had her butt handed to her, and, one way or another, it wouldn’t be the last. Her mind flicked feverishly through every bit of combat advice Gee had given her. Do the unexpected, especially when you’re badly outmatched. And it didn’t get much more outmatched than fencing a vampire duelist.

  Standard procedure in any sword fight was to circle and test your opponent, looking for weaknesses before you committed yourself to an attack. To do anything else was a good way to end up diced into sushi.

  Taking a deep breath, Rachel moved to face him, lifted her sword, and settled into guard.

  Nathan brought his weapon up and settled into position, balanced and graceful as a dancer. “En garde.”

  She exploded toward him with a roar, as loud and startling as she could make it, swinging her sword in a furious arc that would have decapitated him if the sword had been real. His blade thumped rather than rang against hers in a parry that knocked hers off line, then slashed downward to slap against her extended thigh. It stung like a bitch. Her bruised sternum howled.

  “Slow.” He shot forward, his blade licking out.

  Rachel immediately leapt back, snapping a cut toward his ribs that he parried in a blur of speed. This time his retaliatory smack landed across her forearm. She gritted back a cry of pain.

  She’d always loved swordplay. Gee had counted her as the best of her generation; she’d even bested her male Kent cousins. Though shorter than most men -- which meant her reach was also shorter -- Rachel was fast, and her endurance was greater because she didn’t have as much mass to move around. She knew how to take a beating too, since her cousins never pulled their shots.

  But in all the matches she’d fought -- even against Gee -- she’d never had her ass handed to her with such a cold lack of mercy.

  As she circled with Nathan, parrying his lightning attacks, her ribs took on a grinding ache. To make matters worse, that three-mile run earlier meant she didn’t have as much in the tank. Her attacks and parries slowed with each bruising impact.

  But damn it, she was going to land a strike if it killed her. Rachel charged, teeth clenched. He parried her swing so hard her arm seemed to reverberate. The flat of his blade slapped across her chest just beneath her breasts, right over the center of the bruise.

  Her knees gave, dumping her flat on her back, unable to even breathe.

  Nathan looked down on her, frowning in irritation. “I know I didn’t hurt you that bad. Get up.”

  The snap of command in his voice jolted Rachel into motion, but when she tried to sit up, pain slashed across her ribs like a whip. She fell back, curling around herself and fighting to breathe.

  “Oh, shit. What’s wrong?” He fell to one knee beside her. Before she could stop him, he grabbed the hem of her red T-shirt and snatched it up.

  * * *

  “What the fuck?” Nathan stared at the deep purple bruise that bloomed across her sternum. Gently, carefully, he tugged the tee off over her head, despite her hiss of pain, and studied her lean, athletic torso. A lacy white bra cupped delightfully full breasts he’d normally be a lot more interested in -- if not for that God-awful bruise.

  It was shaped like a teardrop and about two inches across. He knew damn well he hadn’t given it to her: it was too old, deep purple, going green around the edges. “What the hell?”

  “I got shot the day before yesterday.” There was a distinct wheeze in her voice. “Hit me in the vest.”

  Belatedly, he remembered a line in the news report Oriana had shown him about Rachel’s shooting incident. Damn it, he wished he’d remembered that little detail before he’d dragged her in here and beat the hell out of her.

  As he studied the bruise, measuring its location against his knowledge of human anatomy, a chill stole over him. “He’d have killed you if you hadn’t been wearing that vest.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. Hard to tell.”

  And what if the bastard had shot her in the head? The thought made Nathan feel a little sick. Anger rolled over him, replacing the shock. “Why in the fuck didn’t you mention this before we started? Don’t you have any sense?”

  Now she looked annoyed. “It’s just a bruise. Gee says you don’t let injuries stop you in combat.”

  “This wasn’t combat, you little twit. This was a practice session.” Nathan reached out to delicately probe the contusion. He didn’t think her sternum was broken, though it was hard to tell without X-rays. “And in any case, you don’t go into combat injured if there’s time to se
e a healer. You’ll end up getting yourself hurt worse, and someone will have to risk his life to save your ass. Which wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d been healed ahead of time.”

  She spoke through her teeth. “I’ll keep that in mind if it happens again.”

  “You’d better. You do realize that little display of feminine machismo was self-defeating? I’d thought Oriana exaggerated how good you are, since your speed and range of motion sucked. Hell, you could barely breathe.”

  Now he found himself impressed by her willingness to go after him so hard despite the pain. He’d fought with more serious injuries, of course, but still, bruised ribs were hell when it came to a sword fight. They impaired breathing and ached viciously whenever you tried to attack or parry.

  She hadn’t let it stop her -- until he’d hit her right across that bruise. No wonder she’d fallen on her ass. “Idiot.” This time the curse wasn’t aimed at her. He’d worked with enough gung-ho little twits to know you couldn’t trust them to take care of themselves. The kid had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

  Nathan was no longer sure it was even possible to discourage her. But he had to try. He really didn’t want her blood on his hands.

  Chapter Three

  Nathan rose and returned to the armoire to open the cabinet where he kept the first aid supplies. Rummaging through the assortment of bottles, jars and powders, he found the one he was looking for, plucked it out, and returned to her. She hadn’t tried to sit up -- probably an indication of how lousy she felt.

  “Take off your bra.”

  A mulish expression crossed her lovely face, and she opened her mouth.

  “Considering we’re supposed to sleep together, don’t you think modesty is a little out of place? Take off that bra.”

  Rachel frowned at him, but arched her spine and tried to reach around under her back to unfasten it. When she winced in pain, he realized there was no way she could do it without hurting herself more.