Master of Dragons

by Angela Knight

  All right. “Semira may be able to guide us the rest of the way in, but Kel and I need to work another spell first. She said she’ll need the power.”

  “At least it’s a chance,” Soren said. “In the meantime, we’ll meet with Arthur and Llyr and start working out the details of the attack.”

  Kel nodded. “And pray the rebels are somewhere in those mountains you saw.”

  “Nineva’s at work on the final spell to power Semira now,” Kel told Arthur, Llyr, his queen, and both councils of the Magekind. They’d met in the council chambers as soon as the sun set and the vampires woke. “It’s a complicated piece of magic.”

  “The question is, will it be enough? And will you be finished before Arralt and his rebels complete whatever they’re going to do to the wards?” Morgana asked grimly.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s going to be a race.”

  “One way or another, we’d better have everybody in place and ready to go as quickly as we can,” Arthur said. “Kel, you really think your people are going to cooperate with us?”

  “After the dressing down Cachamwri gave them?” Kel snorted. “They wouldn’t dare do anything else. He can be pretty damned terrifying when it suits him.”

  “Which would be gratifying, if only we had a little more time to practice this,” Llyr said. “I am not pleased with the idea of taking all these different forces into battle without having drilled them together first.”

  “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to take what we can get,” Arthur told him. “And pray it’s enough.”

  Diana spoke up from her seat as she cuddled her sleeping infant against her breast. “I’ve been talking to the Direkind Council of Clans. We’ll be able to count on at least a couple hundred Dire Wolves. They’ve already started gathering—we just need to gate them in.”

  “Two hundred magically resistant seven-foot-tall were-wolves.” Morgana sat back in her seat and smiled like a cat. “That should scare a few rebels.”

  “It’ll scare them a lot more if they don’t have Dark Ones for backup,” Arthur growled. “Otherwise, we’re going to need every dragon, vampire, witch, wolf, and fairy we can muster.”

  Kel rose from his seat. “And on that note, I’d better get back to Nineva. If she’s on schedule—and I’m sure she is—she should be ready for me by now.” He left them to their strategy session and strode out into the corridor, trying to ignore the way his stomach was coiling itself into a sick knot. This time, the spell had better work.

  They stood in vast rows. Thousands of them, grim-faced and ready in their black armor, swords and axes hanging from sheaths.

  Ready to fight and die to make Arralt ruler of the Two Kingdoms.

  He paced along their ranks, stopping here and there to bark critiques of the state of one’s sword or the tightness of another’s cuirass. To his satisfaction, Arralt saw no doubt in the eyes of any of them, only a fanatical devotion.

  For centuries, he’d been recruiting his army, building it man by man from those who’d suffered at his father’s hand. Ansgar being Ansgar, there’d been no lack of recruits.

  He only wished it were his father he’d meet in battle tonight, his father who’d fall to his sword. Llyr Galatyn would be a poor substitute.

  Still, watching the life bleed from the king’s eyes would be sweetly satisfying. Galatyn had, after all, stolen the revenge that should have been his.

  How his mother had railed at him when Llyr slew Ansgar. “You’ve failed me! I carried you in my womb for nine months, you rapist’s spawn, built your power all these centuries, taught you forbidden magicks—and you waited too long! That monster was to die at your hands! Yours!”

  “So I’ll slay Galatyn. I’ll still take the throne.”

  Her still-lovely face had twisted in contempt. “Llyr is Cachamwri’s Champion now, you fool. He can draw on the power of the Dragon God himself. You have no hope against him. He’ll take you apart, even with your army.”

  Galling as it was to acknowledge it, Arralt had known the bitch was right. He would have to build his power another way.

  He’d found the means in his mother’s ancient, forbidden books—books written by the Dark Ones’ collaborators centuries before the aliens were driven from Sidhe Earth.

  Arralt quickly realized the only means he had of gaining the power to defeat Galatyn was an alliance with his people’s former conquerors. It had been an idea breathtaking in its risk. The Dark Ones could easily destroy him. Indeed, given their vicious nature, the odds favored his death.

  Yet not to take the chance meant the death of his dream. Worse the death of his revenge.

  He’d chosen to take the chance, even though it had meant he had to murder his own mother. Just any slaying wouldn’t have powered a gate that far. It had to be the utter betrayal of the very person who gave him life.

  Of course, killing the little bitch had been no real hardship. In her determination to turn him into the weapon of her revenge, she’d tormented him from the day he was born.

  Now Arralt would finally discover whether his gamble would pay off—or destroy him completely. Would his army defeat Galatyn’s? Even if he won, would the Dark Ones keep their agreement and let him claim his throne? It could go either way.

  Looking out across the ranks of his men now, he knew that many of them would be dead before dawn. He, too, might well be dead, or a shamed captive in chains.

  Or king.

  Arralt felt his lips curve up in a grin of pure exhilaration.

  Evegnii watched General Arralt stand looking over the army with that gut-chilling smile. And wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he himself was doing here.

  Joining the rebellion had seemed like such a heroic adventure five years ago—a noble effort to overthrow Ansgar the Tyrant, who’d ordered the torture of Evegnii’s father for acts of sedition.

  Sedition. His father had gotten drunk and bitched about Ansgar’s taxes in a tavern, not knowing one of the king’s toadies lurked in the taproom crowd. He’d died in the torturer’s hands.

  At first, joining the Army of Semira had promised everything Evegnii hoped. He’d enjoyed the camaraderie of his fellow rebels and the challenge of mastering the art of combat. Surrounded by so many veteran warriors, he’d learned much.

  Then Llyr had killed Ansgar. Soon afterward, the general’s mother had died under mysterious circumstances, and Arralt himself had vanished for months. When he returned, it was amid rumors that he’d found a chilling ally: the Dark Ones.

  Evegnii began to realize he’d made a horrible mistake. Llyr was said to be a good king—and everyone knew what the Dark Ones were. He was tempted to desert on the spot.

  He thought better of it after seeing the public execution of one captured deserter. Evegnii had no desire to be gutted and used to power some act of death magic.

  Death magic, for Semira’s sweet sake.

  Soon, if the rumors were correct, they’d all ride into battle by the Dark Ones’ side. Evegnii’s sergeant had already warned the entire unit that he’d kill any man who fought with anything less than courage.

  Cursed. No matter what he did, Evegnii knew he was cursed. His one hope was to fight like a berserker and pray the general hadn’t lied when he’d sworn to reward his men for winning his throne for him.

  If only Evegnii didn’t have the sinking feeling that his own children would curse his name for this night, no matter what riches Arralt might heap on his head.

  Not that it mattered. He had only one choice.

  Fight or die.

  SIXTEEN

  Kel found Nineva where he’d known he would: standing beside the great bed, just beyond the pattern of runes she’d painted on the floor. He could feel the magic hanging in the air, waiting for them to provide the fuel that would ignite it.

  Which, he suspected, would require very little effort on his part. Just looking at her was enough to make his libido burst into flame.

  In contrast to the sexy crimson negligee
she’d worn the last time, she was dressed in a white lace gown that spilled over her sleek curves all the way to her bare feet. A circlet of red roses rode her blond curls, worn loose around her slender shoulders. The Mark of Semira glowed gold on her breast, burning brighter than he’d ever seen it, a silent testimony to the power in the room.

  “You look like a bride on her wedding night,” Kel said. His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. His heart had drawn into an hard, aching knot.

  She moved toward him. The lacy train of her skirt dragged on the floor, reminding him again of a wedding gown. At least until she got close enough for him to see the shadows of pink nipples peeking through the lace. “I want this time to be about more than the spell.” Small, cool hands came to rest on his chest as she lifted her gaze to his. “I want it to be for us, too.”

  Kel knew what she was thinking. If they died in battle tonight, this might be the last time they ever touched. He brushed the rise of her fragile cheek with a thumb and gave her his best slow, seductive smile. He’d used it a thousand times on countless women, but it had never set up painful echoes in his own chest before. “I’ll do my best.”

  Nineva smiled back, but hers was genuine and warm. “Oh, I know. You’ve never failed me yet.”

  He kissed her. It was openmouthed, fierce, just the way she needed it. He broke it only long enough to scoop her into his arms and carry her to the bed. Magic bubbled on her skin as they crossed the boundaries of the spell, then danced down her back as he lay her on the mattress. When she looked away from his handsome face, she saw the interlocking globes of glowing runes orbiting the bed. The Goddess Mark throbbed in answer, hotter than she’d ever felt it. Which was no surprise: Semira herself had guided her in working the spell this time, and the power of it seethed like a building storm.

  Then Kel came down over her, covering her with that big, hard body of his, and she forgot about everything else. For once, he’d abandoned his usual casual clothing in favor of a flowing white shirt open to the waist of tight black trousers that were, in turn, tucked into boots.

  She smiled into his eyes, trailing her fingers down the muscle revealed by the open V of the shirt. “You look like you just escaped from the cover of a romance novel.”

  He grinned, but the humor didn’t reach his somber eyes. “Hey, I figure if it’s good enough for Fabio, it’s good enough for me.”

  Nineva wrinkled her nose at him. “You do realize I was about ten years old the last time Fabio was on the cover of a romance?”

  “That’s right, make me feel old.”

  “You are old. You’re also immortal, so it doesn’t count.”

  His forced smile faded. “Are we trying too hard?”

  “I was just thinking that.”

  “That’s the problem.” He brushed his knuckles across the rise of her cheek. “We’re both thinking too much. We’re going to ruin it.” She knew he wasn’t talking about the spell.

  The kiss he gave her this time wasn’t the practiced seducer’s version, but one that spoke of need and heart. She looped her arms around his neck and gave herself up to his mouth, savoring the slow stroke of his tongue.

  By the time he drew back, they were both breathing hard. For a moment, neither spoke as they stared into each other’s eyes. The hard, guarded look was gone from his, replaced by tenderness. He looked down her body, his gaze lingering on her lacy bodice. “You know, the more I look at this nightgown, the more I like it.”

  She gave him a deliberately saucy smile. “I thought you would.”

  Rolling onto his side and bracing on one elbow, he trailed his fingers over the lace in a featherlight touch. Her nipples beaded under the thin fabric. His eyes flicked up to her face, and one corner of his mouth curled up in a wicked half-smile. He lowered his head. She watched as he extended his tongue and gave the tight point a slow lick through the lace. A little sizzle of pleasure darted through her at the delicate touch.

  Next came a nibble, followed by a gentle rake of the teeth that managed to drag the lace across the point, teasing it even harder. Nineva hummed in pleasure.

  “Soooo,” she purred, a sudden memory making her grin. “What’s this I hear about forked tongues?”

  His eyes flashed up at her. “Don’t start.”

  “Oh, come on…”

  He closed his lips around her nipple and gave her a hot, strong suckle, swirling his tongue over her through the lace. She instantly lost interest in teasing.

  Kel’s free hand grew busy with the full skirt of her gown, gathering the fabric up until he could find his way beneath. When his warm palm found the smooth skin of her thigh, she sighed in pleasure, arching against him in anticipation.

  He was still suckling her through the lace, making the fabric wet from his mouth. Yet the lack of full contact with that skillful tongue was maddening, and she squirmed.

  Hungry to touch him, she reached for the deep V of his shirt again, sliding a hand beneath the soft, skin-warm fabric. She teased his nipple and had the pleasure of his groan.

  As if in retaliation, he cupped her sex through the lace of her panties. Nineva rolled her hips in a shameless plea for more, and he traced a finger along the seam of her satin-covered lips. She could feel hot cream flood her.

  Still stroking that finger back and forth, he gave her nipple another slow swirling suckle, then switched his attention to the other one. Hunger rising, she lifted one hand, on the verge of banishing their clothes.

  “No,” he breathed, his gaze colliding with her in hot command. “I want to undress you.”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips, caught by his predatory stare. “Okay.” Her voice sounded embarrassingly weak.

  Kel sat up and flipped her full skirt up over her hips, baring her slender legs and the tiny lace panties that just barely covered her sex. Approval lit his ruby gaze, and he wrapped a big hand in the thin lace at her waist. One ruthless tug ripped the panties in two. He tilted his head as he tossed the scraps aside, his gaze locked on her most delicate flesh.

  In contrast to his cavalier disposal of her panties, the fingers that touched her blond curls were oddly reverent. “You’re so pretty here.” He inhaled, his lids lowering over those vivid eyes. “And you smell so sweet.”

  Nineva watched, almost quivering with the intensity of her need, as he settled between her legs. Big hands cupped her knees, spreading them wide as he lowered his head. She braced up on her elbows to watch as he kissed her on her pale curls.

  Then he gave her one lingering lick, right over the seam. Not pushing inside. Just teasing.

  Nineva threw her head back and groaned. “Kel, you’re driving me crazy!”

  “Good.” Another lick, just a fraction deeper. Tasting, but stopping well short of touching her aching center. His hands moved up her sides to cup her breasts through the gown.

  Kel licked her again, deeper, longer, as his thumbs played over the lace-covered tips of her breasts. She squirmed helplessly.

  From the corner of one eye, she saw something flare bright. Automatically, she glanced over. It was the spell globe, glowing hotter, revolving faster, as if their mutual need fed it.

  For a moment the thought of the spell—and the battle to follow—almost jolted her out of the mood. But then Kel’s clever tongue thrust deep, raking right over her clit, and the wave of pleasure made her throw back her head and cry out.

  He ate at her slowly, with swirls and thrusts of that wicked tongue and slow, tugging nibbles of her lips. At the same time, he caught the soft lace of her bodice in his fingers and raked it back and forth over her nipples, teasing them deliciously.

  Nineva fisted both hands in his hair and held on for dear life as he taunted her. Teeth. Tongue. Fingers. All working to spill molten pleasure along her every nerve ending until she writhed like a cat.

  Around them, the spell was glowing with a hot red light.

  She tasted like a midnight sea, of magic and wild, elemental femininity. The slow, unconscious roll of her hips against h
is mouth was driving him insane. His cock was as hard as a sword blade, aching where it pressed into the mattress. Kel wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out against the driving need to take her, but he was determined to bring her to orgasm with his mouth first.

  When she finally stiffened against him with a scream of helpless pleasure, it was all he could do not to moan in relief.

  The next moment, her beautiful gown fell prey to his impatient hands as he ripped it in two like a child attacking a Christmas gift. He sat up, his cock jerking as it throbbed in time to his heart. He wanted to fall on her like a barbarian, but somehow he held onto his self-control.

  He had to brand the memory of her moment of perfect pleasure on his very soul. He knew he’d need it later.

  She looked down her slender body at him, her opalescent eyes dazed with pleasure, her lips swollen, her blond hair tumbled in disarray around her face. Her breasts rose and fell in hard, panting breaths, topped by sweet pink nipples as full and swollen as cherries. Those beautiful legs of hers were spread wide, and the golden curls between them were wet from his mouth and her own desire.

  With a growl, he caught her hips, angled them upward, and aimed his aching cock for her tight opening.

  The first thrust was blinding. Her sweet flesh clamped around his cock, lusciously wet and tighter than a fist. Kel shuddered at the delicious perfection and wondered how the hell he’d ever last.

  He’d just have to find a way. He wasn’t giving this up an instant before he had to.

  Teeth clenched, he lowered himself over Nineva, braced his fists beside her shoulders and began to slowly thrust. She groaned and wrapped both endless legs around his waist.

  Each slide of his cock into her slick flesh was a taste of paradise—and an exercise in delightful torture as he tried not to come. Clawing for control, he looked down into her lovely face. Which was a serious miscalculation, because there was nothing as arousing as the sight of Nineva lost in pleasure, opalescent eyes sparking with magic. Her soft lips shaped sensual moans in time to every entry.