“You can’t beat me, Cat.” Warlock stalked toward him, raising Kingslayer as he came. The axe burst into red flame. “You don’t have the power.”
“You know what I’ve noticed about you, Warlock?” The voice was female, but so deep, Smoke didn’t recognize it. “You have a talent for biting off more than you can chew.”
Magic sizzled through the darkness, a blazing white blast that caught Warlock in the side. The werewolf howled as it picked him up and tossed him like a Ping-Pong ball in a hurricane.
Gods and devils, what now? Smoke spun.
Eva stepped out from around a block. She was in Dire Wolf form, but a great glowing rack of ghostly antlers crowned her head. Sparks danced from point to point in a way Smoke recognized. “Eva,” he whispered, “what did you do?”
She tilted her antlered head in a way that was painfully familiar, though it was nothing she’d ever done before. “Made a deal with what’s left of Zephyr.”
“Which couldn’t have been much.” Warlock vaulted a block to land directly in front of her. “I ate most of him.”
“Yeah,” Eva bared her fangs. “And he’s really pissed about that.”
Her fist swung. It must not have occurred to Warlock that she’d have the balls to hit him, because the blow rocked his head.
“You bitch!” He swung the axe at her, but the blade clanged against Smoke’s conjured great sword. The werecat rammed his shoulder against Warlock’s, driving him back a pace.
Smoke stepped in with a left cross that snapped the Dire Wolf’s head around. In the same motion, the cat raked his claws down Warlock’s belly, though the wolf jerked back so the blow didn’t quite gut him. Pivoting, he rammed his elbow at Smoke’s chin.
Smoke knocked the blow aside and struck, claws raking the Dire Wolf’s throat. Blood flew, and Warlock stumbled back with a yelp, one hand covering his wounded neck.
“That’s right, fucker.” Smoke sneered at the flash of fear in Warlock’s eyes. “You can die just like the rest of us.”
Unfortunately, he hadn’t caught enough flesh to really hurt the bastard—Warlock was damned fast. The werewolf sneered right back. “So can you, Cat. And you’re going to—right now.” He started to swing his axe.
Which was when Eva lowered her head and came up under Warlock’s guard to drive her suddenly solid antlers into the Dire Wolf’s gut. He roared in pain, the cry spiraling into a high, shocked yowl when she sent a spell crackling through her rack. The air filled with the nauseating smell of burning flesh.
Warlock grabbed for her antlers, as if to drag them out of his body, but his hand passed right through them.
Eva jerked her ghostly horns free in a spray of hot, red blood. Cursing her viciously, Warlock swung his axe at her head. Smoke surged forward meaning to block the blow, but Warlock was too damned fast, and he missed.
Eva leaped straight up, and the axe whizzed harmlessly past her clawed feet. She landed ten feet away with a neat, catlike thump. “Zephyr says to get that damned axe,” she growled directly into Smoke’s mind. “It amplifies his power. Without it, we can take him apart.”
“Ooooh, yessssss!” Smoke lunged forward, transforming his sword into an axe of his own. He hooked Warlock’s blade with his, dragged it down, and punched the Dire Wolf with merciless force, right in his sensitive nose. The blow loosened Warlock’s grip as Smoke twisted his axe, jerking both blades into a hard arc.
Kingslayer went flying. Eva reached up to grab the airborne weapon.
“Don’t you touch my axe, bitch!” Warlock roared in rage and leaped, snatching the great blade out of the air before her fingers could close around the handle. Power boiled red around the blade as he drew it back. Smoke smelled the familiar reek of death magic, and knew if the blow landed, she was finished.
He leaped over Warlock’s head and came down right in his path, both hands lifted as he reached for his magic and sent it all, everything he had, screaming into the Dire Wolf’s face. Even as he fired, he watched the axe arc toward his head and knew he was looking at his own death.
Eva’s slender hand reached past his ear. Far more magic than she should have had blasted from her palm, adding to his furious salvo.
The mingled energy hit Warlock like a freight train, smashing him backward right through one of the blocks. The thing shattered, but Warlock kept going, hitting yet another block, then still one more, before sailing over the edge of the cliff.
For a long, ticking moment, neither of them moved as they strained their ears. But there was nothing: no outraged curse, no roar of rage, not even a distant splash.
“I sure hope that got the bastard,” Eva said in a faint voice, “Because I just used up everything I had.”
“You’re not the only one.” Smoke limped toward the edge of the cliff to peer out into the darkness. Though he strained both his eyes and his magical senses, there was no sign of the Dire Wolf.
“You’re bleeding,” Eva said, walking up behind him. “There.” One of her furred hands touched a deep cut in his ribs.
He had no idea when he’d gotten it. “I must’ve missed a parry.”
“Not completely,” she murmured. “Or you’d be dead.” Her big, dark eyes met his, lovely and familiar even in her lupine skull. “Just as I’d be if you hadn’t stepped into his path. He was going to take my head.”
Smoke gave her a tired smile and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “No he wasn’t. You wouldn’t have let him.”
Eva cuddled against his chest, her furry arms encircling his equally furry waist. “I don’t know about that. He’s damn fast.”
They fell silent, clinging together like a pair of weary children, until she asked, “You think he’s dead?”
“We’re not that fucking lucky.” Smoke wondered whether he had the energy to levitate out over the ocean and search some more, then reluctantly decided it was probably beyond him. He’d wiped out his energy reserves.
Fortunately, he was willing to bet Warlock was in no better shape.
When Smoke cast the communication spell with the last of his magic, he got through to Guinevere. Twenty minutes later, dozens of witches and vampires were combing the ocean and every inch of island beach. But they found nothing.
“Do you think you got him?” Arthur asked, as the healer worked over Smoke’s collection of scrapes, bruises, and one of two really deep wounds. He was still in werecat form, since he’d been too drained to change. The healer looked tiny next to him, her hands trailing sparks as she gently traced his injuries.
Eva was already healed; Smoke had insisted the witch work on her first. Now she watched the Maja with quiet interest, as if absorbing her techniques.
Knowing Eva, she probably was.
“Frankly, I suspect he’s back in that lair of his licking his wounds and plotting revenge,” Smoke told Arthur bluntly. “He stole a hell of a lot of power from Zephyr.”
“And he was formidable even before that,” Eva put in absently.
Arthur cursed. “So basically we’ve still got to deal with the bastard. I’ll have to talk to the Direkind Council of Chosen again, try to convince the idiots to give him up.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Tristan said, appearing with a weary Belle at his heels. A light coat of sand covered his armor, and he looked tired and grouchy. Which was no surprise; he should be in the Daysleep now, but like Arthur, he’d woken when Belle had transported him to this night-shrouded hemisphere. “Those people really believe Warlock’s a god.”
“And they’ll protect him to the death,” Belle added, her expression grim.
Arthur growled. “Fanatics. Hate ’em. Every fanatic I’ve ever encountered has been a pain in my ass—including the ones who were supposed to be on my side.”
“Yes,” Smoke said, rising to his feet, the healer’s work finished. “But I’d like to point out that you’re still here, and they’re not. We’ll find Warlock, and we’ll take him out, just like all the others.”
“And we’ll make hi
m pay.” Eva’s eyes flashed white, and for a moment, ghostly antlers appeared over her head. “Get his axe and he’s done. We almost had it today, but he was quicker than I thought.”
“You do realize he’s going to come after Excalibur just as hard?” Tristan said, lifting a blond brow. “Because that sword is just as important to you as the axe is to him.”
“He’s not going to get it.” Arthur’s hand fisted on the sword’s hilt. “Trouble is, Merlin created those bastards to defeat us, and I’ve got a really ugly feeling they’re going to give it their best shot.”
Warlock swam in pain, his big body twitching and cold. It had taken everything he had left to create the gate back to his lair before he slammed into the ocean. He’d had just enough wit left to realize the impact probably would have killed him.
He still needed to shift to heal the burns that covered his body from the cat’s final attack. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the power. He was going to have to endure until his magic regenerated.
But until it did, he had plans to make.
He’d tried to resolve this fight with Arthur with a minimum of deaths. He’d meant to kill only Pendragon’s son, which would have made the Celt easy prey. When that plan failed, he figured stealing the elemental’s power would enable him to take Arthur out. But Smoke had proven to be stronger and more powerful than he’d anticipated. At least he’d obtained Zephyr’s magic.
He drew Kingslayer close with bloody, swollen hands and glared at the rocky ceiling of his lair. The Celt had to be brought low. And the past weeks had taught Warlock there was only one way to do it, even if it meant his own people would suffer in the process.
“War,” he said into the silence, his voice cracked and dry and weak with pain. “The Magekind must bleed.”
TWENTY-TWO
Belle took a break from the search long enough to open a portal to the gateway pool for Smoke and Eva, since neither was up to it just then.
Then she went back to work on her new hobby—pissing Tristan off.
Exhausted to the bone, Eva and Smoke walked into the pool hand in hand. The softly glowing water swirled around their feet, then their calves and hips as they waded deeper. And with every step, their bodies drank more magic.
“Oh, God,” Eva moaned over the sound of the waterfall thundering into the pool. Her maned head fell back as her eyes closed. “That feels almost as good as sex.”
Smoke laughed, a delicious male growl. “Nothing’s as good as sex with you.”
She opened one eye. It had already started to glow white. “Well, it does depend on the partner.”
“Doesn’t everything?” Sucking in a deep breath, he released her and dove, then began to swim toward the waterfall.
Eva followed suit, her arms stroking lazily as she kicked her way through the shimmering water. Opening her eyes, she watched with lazy interest as fish swam past, each the size of a dinner plate, scales iridescent and bright as rainbows.
She lifted her head as she reached the waterfall. Smoke had climbed up on one of the great black stones that surrounded the tumble of water so that the steam pelted his cat face, slicking his fur to his massive body. As she watched, magic swirled around him, and he shrank back into Sidhe form.
Eva pulled herself up onto the rock beside him and gasped in delight. The water pounding on her head carried a rush of warm magic that stole her breath. It felt delicious, and she tilted her head back and opened her mouth, gulping both the water and the raw power it carried from the dimensional portal overhead. As she drank, she let the magic roll through her body.
The shift to human barely hurt at all.
Eva opened her eyes to find Smoke reaching for her. She went into his arms joyfully, slipping hers around his neck as he pulled her tight. Their mouths met under the pounding spray, lips pressing, tongues stroking in a hot and hungry kiss that burned with magic.
His hands found her bare, thoroughly healed breasts and cupped her, his fingers rolling and pinching nipples that had gone pert and eager under the pounding tingle. She threw back her head and gasped at the startling intensity of the sensation he created. It was as if the magic made it more, somehow. Hotter, fiercer, even more luscious. He grinned against her mouth as if sensing her reaction.
They stood there on the slick black stone, hands drifting over wet skin, stroking and sliding and squeezing, savoring each electric zing of pleasure, each falling drop of magic.
Smoke dropped to his knees before her and parted the lips of her sex. She sucked in a breath as his tongue slipped deep. He sent a stream of enchanted water sluicing over her clit, and she damned near jolted into orbit.
That boy always was creative, Zephyr laughed in her mind.
Shush, Fluffy told him. I want to enjoy this.
Good God, Eva thought. I’ve got my own peanut gallery .
But then Smoke gave her another hot mouthful of magic, and her mind went deliciously blank. His tongue swirled lazily over her clit, tracing a slippery figure eight. She fisted her hands in his hair and let her head fall back, rolling her hips against his mouth.
He reached one hand up and found a nipple, then began to play with it lazily as his mouth slowly drove her insane. Fingers pinched and stroked and played as he alternated licking her clit and spraying mouthfuls of magic across it.
Her climax thundered out of nowhere, quick and hard and merciless, and she screamed into the delicious pound of the waterfall.
Her knees buckled, but Smoke caught her hips with one hand, steadying her. Then he lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder. And went back to eating her lazily as she gasped and moaned her way into another blazing orgasm.
Finally she fell back against the wet stone, limp as a drenched sock, weak from his ruthless pleasuring. Smoke pulled away from her and stood, one arm going around her waist, the other hooking under her knee to sling it over his hip.
Eva read his intention and grabbed his shoulders as she wrapped her other leg around his waist. He took her butt in both hands and lifted her just above the eager jut of his cock. The hard tip found her slick opening as he arched his hips and lowered her, pushing his width between her creamy lower lips, moving slowly, his eyes on hers.
Eva sucked in a breath, loving every inch of the exquisite penetration.
God, he felt incredible, his wet shaft beaded with magic, tingling and hot inside her.
Finally he was in up to the balls, and she let her head fall back, savoring him, loving his blazing length. His mouth found her throat, his teeth raking the sensitive cords of it, gently ruthless.
“God, Smoke ...” she whimpered.
“That’s right—Smoke,” he growled against her skin. “I’m your Smoke, no matter who else I am.”
She smiled as she tightened the grip of her thighs, hunching hard against his hips. “And I’m yours, period. As I always will be.”
Smoke growled in pleasure, loving the heat of her slick grip, the way her hips rolled in his hands as he held her plastered against his pelvis, his cock buried to the balls. “Always,” he gritted. “You do realize Zephyr made you immortal? Like me ...”
Her smile took on a fierce edge. “Just like you.” Digging her sharp little nails into his back, Eva hooked her ankles together and ground down on his cock.
The sensation of her slick cunt taking every inch of him nearly hurled him right to orgasm, but he held it off, desperate to ride a little longer.
He braced her back against the wet stone and stepped deeper into her grip, sliding that last delicious fraction into her cunt. The waterfall pounded down on their heads, drenching them in magic as they kissed again, licking, biting, tongues thrusting deep. Kisses that dizzied them as they ground together, cock in cunt, magic surging into magic, blending together in a blue-white glow that spilled over their skin, rolled from head to heels.
The orgasm tore through them both in a white-hot cascade that made them scream together in one long chorused howl of delight.
Singing their pleasure to
the magic.
Naked and deliciously limp, Eva floated in the magical pool, the fingers of one hand twined with Smoke’s as he floated with his head inches from hers, his body at an angle to hers.
“Damn,” she purred. “I can see we’ll be making a habit out of this.”
He growled a deep sound of assent, his eyes closed, his expression relaxed. She could sense his emotions as clearly as his own, as if they’d linked somehow, and she knew he’d never felt this at peace. Neither had she, though she knew there was so damned much to do.
They were going to have to set wards around the comic shop as well as her parents’ home and vehicles. If any werewolf got close, she and Smoke could gate there first and kick whatever ass needed kicking. They had more than enough power to take care of Warlock’s henchmen.
Unfortunately, Warlock had gained power, too, and he’d use it, God only knew how.
“We’ll stop him,” Smoke said, reading her thoughts, his eyes still comfortably closed. Apparently the waterfall adventure had indeed linked them. And wasn’t that luscious?
Better enjoy it now, Zephyr warned in his deep, ghostly voice. Because there will be war.
Then we’ll fight, Fluffy told him. And we’ll win.
Together. She couldn’t tell who’d thought that, but it didn’t really matter.
It was true.
EPILOGUE
Miranda bustled through the diner with two plates in her hands, the scent of fried eggs, pancakes, and bacon teasing her nose. She found the correct table and put the plates down in front of a middle-aged couple in their Sunday best, gave them a sunny smile and a “you’re welcome” in exchange for their thanks, and strode to the next table.
“Hi!” She smiled at the family of four, also fresh from the Baptist church, and started scribbling their orders on her pad.
Miranda had not expected to be happy. True, there were moments when grief for her mother weighed hard, especially when she went home to her lonely apartment. But Randy had found that as long as she kept busy, she could avoid her darker memories and concentrate on the present. The present, with its new friendships and bright hopes.
Master of Smoke Page 28
