Lancelot

I don’t quite remember where I am when I wake. This isn’t the bed I’ve grown accustomed to. But then the last night comes to me in flashes. Guinevere. The woman stole my bedroom without so much as a question of whether or not I was using it. So like a queen. Though I didn’t correct her. There was something innately satisfying about knowing she would be sleeping in my bed. And from the breathy cries of my name on her lips last night, she found her own satisfaction as well.

I spent far too long reveling in those sounds as I tried to fall asleep. Eventually, I must’ve drifted off, but my dreams were plagued with sighs and moans, and I woke up hard and desperate for relief. I want her. I’ve always wanted her. Even as she broke my heart.

I wander down the hall toward the living room, fatigue from a night of fitful sleep weighing on me. I need some hot tea and then possibly a cold shower. Music floods the room, fast-paced and strange, but I like it. And that’s when I see her dancing. Gwen is perfection in one of my few shirts. It’s too large for her small frame, falling at mid-thigh and offering the most enticing tease of her legs. With her hair braided to one side, dark strands framing her face, she looks like a siren sent to ensnare me.

“Where did you find that shirt?” I ask, hoping she won’t hear the tension in my voice.

She jumps in fright, eyes wide, a little squeak of surprise leaving her lips. “Holy hell, you scared the ever-loving shit out of me.”

Her bare legs look smooth and soft and I want to touch them. “And you are a thief.”

She cocks an eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest. The movement lifts the fabric of her shirt higher, flashing a teasing view of the tops of her thighs. “Thief?”

“That’s my shirt.”

“I figured as much.” The kettle on the stove begins whistling and she breezes past me, hips swaying as she goes. I have to grit my teeth and take a long breath to stop myself from pulling her to me. Even still, I follow her into the kitchen and watch as she pulls two mugs from the cupboard. “Tea?” she asks, nothing but innocence in her tone.

“Are you going to apologize?”

“For offering you tea?”

“For stealing what’s mine.”

She bites her lip and ponders, but then shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so.” Pouring hot water into each mug, she keeps her gaze away from me. “It was hanging on a hook in the bathroom in my room.”

“That’s my room. Another thing you stole.”

“And what about the things you stole from me?” Anger burns through her words.

“I stole something? Please, my queen, enlighten me.”

Her gaze meets mine, fury and fire swirling in the depths of her eyes. “My life, for starters. You stole my life by being here. I could’ve been happy without magic, living with my sisters and doing nothing other than caring for them and their children. But no. You had to come charging in with your sword and your swoony hair.”

Words fail me at her outburst. She drops a tea bag in each mug and picks up her cup. Then puts it back down.

“Here. My sister sent me some clothes. They should arrive soon.” Before I realize what she’s doing, Gwen pulls the shirt over her head, baring her tantalizing breasts and perfectly curved body. My mouth runs dry and the erection I’d managed to tame comes roaring back to life.

She tosses the balled-up fabric to me and grabs her mug. “I’ll be in the shower.” Then the temptress strides past me, breasts bouncing and begging for my touch.

I have to fight a groan at the sight of her full, round arse covered only by a lacy undergarment. If I were a weaker man, I’d tear those off her with my teeth. But I’m not. I will not. Once she’s out of sight, however, I give in and palm my shaft through the fabric of my sleeping pants. I haven’t been inside a woman in close to a thousand years and Guinevere is testing me.

The air around me shifts and my ears pop, the tension of my arousal vanishing as apprehension takes hold instead. Turning on my heel, I stop short at the sight of Tamiel, the fallen angel who brought me out of purgatory. He’s wearing a slight frown as he assesses me.

“Where’s Gwen?” he asks, surveying the room before coming back to me.

“In the shower.”

“Ah, so it’s that way already, is it?” His frown turns to a smirk.

“No, it’s not.” I pull the shirt Gwen had been wearing over my head. Fuck, it smells like her. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to make sure the two of you haven’t killed each other.” Then he holds out a large bag. “And to deliver this to Gwen.”

“You’re an errand boy now?” I shouldn’t goad a fallen angel, but my mood is sour and it’s the only thing that makes me feel better.

“Helena won’t use her power in her condition. She’s being…cautious. The woman is worried something will happen to our child if she transports herself through her angelic grace.”

I take the offered bag and nod. “I’ll see my lady receives this.”

“You seem…better.”

“Day by day. Though I’ll admit, I don’t know if I’ll ever be my old self.”

He nods. “Demon venom is nasty stuff. I’m surprised it didn’t kill you outright.”

“I thought it had. It seemed like I was in Hell.” I shudder at the memory of being forced to experience Guinevere choosing Arthur, growing heavy with his child, loving him instead of me. The two of them banishing me from their sight forever. I’d been trapped in an endless nightmare of the future I’d always been afraid I’d have to endure.

“That’s the effect of the venom. I had to watch Helena die over and over until I came out of it. Not something I’d wish on my worst enemy, that.”

“I wouldn’t call it pleasant.” I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “Is there anything else you require?” I want him to leave me to my Gwen. She could come out of the shower at any moment, wrapped in nothing but a towel. He may be married to her sister, but Tamiel is still a man.

The angel chuckles and shakes his head. “Gabriel told us this is something the two of you must go through alone. He’ll return as soon as you’re healed. But should you need us to help, we’re just a call away.”

I don’t understand what he means, but I am not going to ask. Instead, I nod. “The sooner this is over, the better.”

He chuckles. “You two really don’t like each other, do you?”

That makes me frown. I loved her until she broke our bond. I’ll never be able to get over that. “You try living with the woman who rejected you. It’s not easy. I just want this over and done with so I can move on with my life.”

A smirk tells me I’ve amused him. “Best of luck with that one. I’ll leave you to your” —he gestures at me— “tea.”

Then the pressure in the room changes as he vanishes. The leather straps of the bag filled with Gwen’s belongings cut into my shoulder, reminding me of the real reason for Tamiel’s visit. I head down the hallway, listening for the sound of water. When I hear the sweet sound of singing coming from the partially open door, my chest tightens. In all the time I knew her, Queen Guinevere never sang. But her voice is beautiful. Haunting and mesmerizing.

I sit on the bed and just…listen, taking it all in. The harsh reality gripping me that once upon another time she could’ve been mine. But I wasn’t good enough. She chose Arthur.

I grit my teeth and rest my head in my hands. Arthur. He was my best friend, my king. I loved him, and I betrayed him, for her. I suppose I got what I deserved, a heart ever yearning for the one thing the two of us couldn’t share. Gwen’s love.

A soft shocked gasp pulls me from my wallow. Gwen stands in the doorway, long hair damp and dripping over her shoulder. She’s wrapped in a fluffy blue towel and her cheeks are rosy, eyes bright. She looks…perfect.

“What are you doing?” she snaps.

“Delivering your clothes. Tamiel says hello, by the way.”

She pulls her towel tighter and glances at the door. “He’s here?”

I shake my head. “Not anymore.” Then I rise, looking her over. “I didn’t know you had such a gift for song, my lady. Yet another part of yourself you kept hidden.”

Her eyes widen. “Y—you heard me singing?”

“I did.”

Those perfectly arched brows pull together, a frown of concentration. “Sit down, Lancelot.” Her tone is strong and commanding.

“Why?”

She shakes her head and smiles. “Oh, thank heaven. It doesn’t work.”

“What doesn’t?”

“My song. I’m a siren, but along with my magic, the siren spell is gone.”

Now it all makes sense. My wild and crazy abandon, the love that ate away at my sanity. Queen Guinevere never loved me. She craved me, wanted to control me, and bewitched me with her siren song in order to get what she wanted. She’s the one responsible for all my suffering.

Gwen

“You’re a siren.” Lancelot’s voice is rough and broken.

“I am.”

“So…none of what I felt…what I still feel echoes of…none of that is real?”

How do I want to answer this? I could tell him I used my song on him, forced him to think he loved me so I could have him, but that would be a lie. I don’t know if I can lie to this man. But if I do, that will end everything between us. He’ll live under the false notion that our past is made from a spell and not a true connection.

“I…Lance, I wish I knew what to say to make this better.”

Blazing eyes lock onto mine. Anger, hurt, betrayal. “I was in love with you. I would’ve given my life for you, Gwen. But now I know it wasn’t real. How could you do that to me?”

My heart aches for the sadness in his voice. As angry and hurt as he left me all those centuries ago, I can’t let him think his feelings weren’t real. “I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I have never used my song. Not a single time in any of my lives.”

That strong jaw of his clenches and he stands. “How can I believe you? You could have me under your spell even now.”

“Take off your clothes.”

His expression is incredulous. “My lady?”

“I said, take off your clothes.”

“No.”

“Don’t you see? If I had you under my spell, you would be powerless to argue. You’d do whatever I told you. No question.”

He drags a hand through his thick hair and sighs. “I understand. I don’t know what is a worse fate, thinking I loved you and lost you, or thinking you betrayed me with magic.”

“You never loved me. Neither of you did.” I fight the tears in my voice. “Because I loved you both, and if you had truly felt the same way, our tale would’ve ended very differently.” Now that I know love was the key to breaking my curse, it’s even more obvious that Lancelot wasn’t my true love. If we could have broken the curse, it would’ve happened long ago.

“Don’t presume to tell me how I feel.”

“I’ll tell you whatever I damn well please. Now get out of here so I can put some clothes on.” Anger boils my blood as the last few minutes replays in my mind. He basically accused me of being responsible entirely for our transgressions. The man put all the blame on me. He was willing to believe he’d had no choice in his feelings.

“Gwen,” he starts, but falters.

“Don’t even try. You’ve only proven to me that it was a blessing I never ran away with you.”

The look in his eyes cuts me deep. There’s so much pain. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I believe I’d rather be in purgatory than trapped here with you any longer.”

He stands and runs a hand through his hair again, that compulsive gesture something I used to live to see. There’s something about the way his body shifts and the expression on his face. It’s erotic. But right now, I want nothing more than for him to leave.

“Get out.” I bite out the words because if I don’t, I might cry.

With a slight dip of his chin, he leaves and as soon as the door closes behind him, I let tears trail down my cheeks. Taking a harsh breath, I wipe my face and pull myself together. I can’t let him hurt me any longer. There’s too much at stake. My sisters need me to be strong. I’ve been good at pretending since I lost Lancelot the last time. I’ll continue the charade and close myself off. He can’t hurt what he can’t find.