SIX
Unaware of Reece’s growing lust, Erin was still trying to understand the complex relationships between vampires and Majae. “But Merlin could do spells, right?”
He took a deep swallow of brandy and let it burn all the way down. Maybe his preoccupation with Erin was his imagination. But he doubted it. He tried to concentrate on the problem at hand. “Early Fae males once enslaved the females. It was easy, because the males were both stronger and could work spells. So millennia later, when the Fae created us, they made sure our females could defend themselves by limiting our powers. The end result is that we’re the muscle and they’re the magic.”
“Huh.” She slid a hip onto the tabletop and absently picked up a strawberry from a tray. “So you’re one of the Knights of the Round Table.”
Reece blinked, her misinterpretation jolting him from his sensual preoccupation. “Uh, no. That was before my time. Look, you know the Grail legend?”
“Yeah.” She bit into the strawberry. He fought to ignore the sensual movement of her lips. “King Arthur sent his knights to search for the cup Christ used at the Last Supper.”
“Right, but it wasn’t really Christ’s cup. That part was tacked on later. The real Grail was Merlin’s magical creation. The knights and ladies who proved themselves were allowed to drink from it, and when they did, it transformed them. They became Magi and Majae. From then on, they were able to pass on the potential to become Magekind to their descendants.”
“So their children became little witches and vampires. Bet that made for an interesting home life.” She angled her head, sending bright blond hair sliding over the globes of the pretty breasts swelling over the neckline of her Merry Widow.
He looked away. “It certainly would have, which is why it doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?”
“Well, think about it. Even the best families have kids who don’t turn out quite right.”
“True.” Erin started picking over the tray of fruit again. He focused his attention out the window. “And if one of those Mage kids went bad—”
“—you’d have a royal mess,” Reece finished. “So the way Merlin set it up is, you could only become one of the Magekind if they chose to grant you the full power. And you only got the full power through…well, sex.”
She looked up. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m afraid not. Repeated contact with the Majae or Magi’s bodily fluids—saliva, sperm, whatever—triggers a gene in the Latent that causes him to transform.” Which, he told himself sternly, is what will happen to Erin if you don’t keep your hands off.
She looked dubious. “You mean it’s sexually transmitted, like HIV?”
“Basically. You need at least three encounters to trigger it, though. Sometimes more, but never less than three.” He’d love to take her like that, over and over again…. Stop that.
“So that whole thing about being bitten three times to become a vampire—”
“—is complete myth. I became a vampire by having sex with the Maja the Majae’s Council sent to convert me.”
“They sent her?” She was watching him curiously. He wondered if she’d picked up on his unease. “That sounds pretty cold.”
He shrugged. “And it was, though I didn’t realize it at the time. I fell wildly in love with her, but she dumped me as soon as I made the transformation.” Now, that was a thought to cool his burning blood. Maybe if he remembered the way Sebille had laughed at his passionate proposal…
“Bitch.” Her angry growl made him glance back at her. He instantly regretted it. She’d pursed her lips into a deliciously erotic shape that made him imagine what it would feel like to slide his erection between them. Sweating, Reece focused on the nearest window and tried doing a calculus problem in his head.
Oh, this was not good.
“So what happened?” When he looked over at her blankly, she prompted, “With the Maja who turned you into a vampire. The one who dumped you.”
Reece rubbed a thumb against his aching forehead. He was developing a tension headache. “Nothing. That was it. Look, love has nothing to do with Gifting somebody. It’s all a very deliberate, very serious business, because you’re giving them incredible power. In fact, the Majae have a council whose sole purpose is deciding who gets Merlin’s Gift and who doesn’t.”
“What happens if somebody gets the Gift when they’re not supposed to?”
He remembered Lizzie. Now, there was a thought to cool anybody’s lust. “The Council hands down an order of execution.”
“You mean—they just kill the Latent?”
Reece nodded. “Along with whoever turned him or her. The Council doesn’t screw around.” He took a deep breath, then regretted it when it got him a lungful of her maddening scent. “And that brings me to you.”
She stared at him. “Me?”
“You’re a Latent, Erin.”
Avalon
Lance and Arthur sat at the Round Table in the High Council Hall, a bottle of some Maja’s donated blood between them. In contrast to the barbaric splendor of the chamber with its massive wooden timbers and stone floor, both were dressed like the twenty-first century men they’d become.
Lance had changed for the occasion into slacks and a black cable-knit sweater, while Arthur wore a pair of worn jeans and a T-shirt with the slogan, “Once a King, always a King—but once a Knight’s enough.”
Lance wondered absently what smartass had given him that. It was an odd fashion choice for the Liege of the vampire’s Magi’s Council, the group that, with the Majae’s Council, decided Magekind policy.
He sipped from his goblet, barely conscious of the fiery taste. His attention was focused on the next chamber. Through the massive wooden doors, he could hear the sound of rhythmic female voices. “Hear that?” he said to Arthur. “They’re chanting.”
His friend frowned. “They shouldn’t have to work that hard, not on a simple locator spell. Unless—”
“—something’s blocking them,” Lance finished the thought. “Something with a lot of power. What are we dealing with here, Arthur?”
The Liege of the Magi’s Council combed one hand restlessly through the short, neat beard he’d recently regrown. “The only thing I know about this situation is that I don’t like it. I despise waiting in the dark, not even knowing where the enemy is.”
Lance smiled reluctantly. “It’s a lot easier when they just point us somewhere and tell us who to kill.”
Arthur dropped his hand from his beard to finger Excalibur’s hilt. The big blade’s enchanted jewels gleamed against the Table’s dark wood. “I’ll admit, I’d welcome a little action. I don’t like knowing one of my men is in danger when there’s nothing I can do to help him.”
Massive doors creaked open. Both men looked up as Guinevere, Grace, and Morgana sailed through, none of them looking happy. “Somebody’s doing a damn good job of blocking us from finding Reece,” Grace said, dropping into a chair next to her husband.
Morgana curled a lip, her dark eyes flashing. “They don’t know us very well if they think it’s that simple to stymie us.” She gestured, her long hands moving in a gesture as abrupt as it was graceful.
A massive book appeared on the table before her. Easily a foot thick, the tome’s aged leather cover was inset with emeralds, sapphires, and rubies.
“Grim,” Morgana said, crossing her arms in the pale cream suit she wore, “we need your help finding a demon.” She looked at Grace and said, “Describe your vision for Grim. He should be able to—”
“Uh, Grandmother?” Grace dipped her eyes down at the book, which remained stubbornly closed.
Morgana’s brows lowered in concern. “Grim?”
The book didn’t respond.
“Merlin’s Grimoire!” Arthur thundered.
The book always opened at the sound of Arthur’s voice, but today the cover didn’t even stir.
A palpable chill settled over the room. “Grim’s not—?” Lance began.
Guinevere laid a slender hand on the book’s cover, then looked up at them in relief. “No. It’s still alive. I sense its magic. But something has bound it in sleep.”
“That thing dared set a spell on Merlin’s Grimoire?” Minute flashes of lighting glittered in Morgana’s eyes. “He’s going to pay for that.” She looked up at Grace and Gwen. “I’ll call the Majae’s Council. We’ll break this spell, and then we’ll just see what this arrogant bastard thinks he can hide!”
Morgana swept up the Grimoire and stalked out, Gwen and Grace at her heels.
Lance looked at Arthur as the door closed behind him. “This whatever-he-is managed to put a spell on Grim right under the noses of the Majae?” He sat back in his seat and blew out a breath. “Oh, that’s just not good.”
“No,” the former High King said. “It’s not.”
The Cell
Erin stared at Reece in disbelief as a chill spread over her. “Me? A Latent?” Suddenly the conversation that had been a welcome distraction from their predicament became all too personal. “A Latent and the young vampire who could transform her—all magical potential, yet without enough real power yet to be a pain in my ass,” Geirolf had said. “The perfect blood sacrifice.”
The conversation had made no sense at the time. Now it did, and she wished it didn’t. “Oh, shit.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“There’s been a mistake. I don’t have any magical powers.”
“Yet.”
“At all, Reece!” She shook her head. “I’m thirty years old. Don’t you think I would have noticed by now if I could wiggle my nose and pull a rabbit out of my butt?”
“Now, that,” Reece told her, “is a really revolting image.”
“Not as revolting as the idea of me as a witch!”
Champion sighed. “Look, if you think about it, you’ll find it makes sense. Like the time you and David went to that farmhouse that belonged to the killer—”
She frowned. “You mean Gary Evans?”
“Right. You were looking for clues to the kidnapping and killings in town. How did you know that building was connected?”
Erin swallowed, remembering the sudden cold prickle of knowledge that had stolen over her when she’d seen candlelight flickering from the darkened barn. “I don’t know. I just had a hunch.”
“You get a lot of hunches that pan out like that?”
“Yeah. But so does everybody in law enforcement. Something doesn’t quite fit or looks out of place, and when you investigate, you find something’s wrong.”
“But I’ll bet you get more of them than most people.”
She hesitated before she admitted, “Okay, there were jokes about it in the Bureau—the way my hunches always seemed to play out. That was why David was so willing to investigate. But a couple of hunches do not constitute evidence that I’m some kind of witch.”
“Not yet. But you could be, if we made love often enough.”
“No. Forget it. I am a descendent of one of the Knights of the Round Table? I don’t think so.”
“Sorry, babe, judging by the scent, you’re one of Bedivere’s. Bet you’ve got a great-grandparent who was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
“You can tell who my great-grandfather was from the way I smell?”
“The Magekind are immortal, Erin. We have sex with a lot of people. If you couldn’t recognize your own bloodline, you could end up banging your own daughter without knowing it. Or your sister, for that matter. Just ask Arthur.”
She raked both hands through her hair and tried to regroup. “So I have at least the potential to gain these…powers, right?”
“Yeah.” His gaze sharpened and heated. When he spoke again, the words emerged as a sensual growl. “If we make love.”
She went still as a thought occurred to her. “Could I break us out of here?”
“Possibly, but there are two problems with that.”
“One of which is that Geirolf plans to kill both of us in some kind of sacrifice.” Erin grimaced. “So if we do it and I can’t get us out, we’re screwed. Talk about pressure. What’s the other one?”
“You could go insane.”
She looked at him a long moment. “Okay, explain that.”
“Sometimes new vampires can’t control the hunger, though that’s comparatively rare. But Majae—when you Change, all the energy of this alien dimension suddenly crashes in on you. Some people can’t handle it, and they become dangerous. That’s why the Majae’s Council vets everybody before they allow them to undergo the Change.”
“And executes people who Change without permission as a way to discourage that kind of thing.”
“Right.”
“Well, that’s stupid.”
Reece snorted. “Sweetheart, the Majae’s Council is the least of our problems. If I do turn you, and you can’t get us out of here, it’s not just us Geirolf is going to kill. That spell he was talking about is sympathetic magic. It’s designed to wipe out every Maja and Magus—all Earth’s protectors—in one shot. That would give him free rein to do whatever the hell he wants with humankind. He set himself up as a god before. What’s he going to do this time?”
“Nothing good.”
“Got that right.” Reece stood up and began to pace, his long, muscled legs carrying him from one end of the cell to the other. “Geirolf feeds off death energy. The minute he gets rid of us, the entire human race becomes his personal All-You-Can-Eat buffet. With a side order of Sidhe.”
She winced. “That was a truly unspeakable pun.”
“Believe me, it’s no joke. Because he won’t be the only one we’ll have to worry about. Other Mageverse aliens will show up looking for the leftovers the minute Merlin’s wards are gone.”
“Great.” She scrubbed both hands over her face. “Just fucking fantastic.”
“And that’s just the aliens. In the last century the human race has gained the ability to destroy itself hundreds of times over. Magekind has been working our collective ass off behind the scenes, trying to keep the human race from committing mass suicide. But it’s always been a fight. Right now we’re about one deep breath from a religious World War. We’ve never had one of those, and believe me, we don’t want one. So if the Magekind goes bye-bye—”
“—millions of other people won’t be far behind.”
His expression was cold and grim when he turned to look at her. “If I don’t Change you, Geirolf can still kill us, but he won’t be sacrificing a Maja.”
“But if you don’t Change me, we don’t even have a prayer of escaping.”
He sighed and fell into the nearest chair. “That’s about the size of it.”
Erin groaned. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”
They spent the next hours pacing and arguing as they tried to arrive at a solution to the problem of escape. Erin banged furiously on the window, trying to attract the attention of one of the magical beings beyond the glass, but nothing responded.
Meanwhile, Reece explored the walls and windows, looking for a weakness he could use to batter an escape route. But the cell was rock solid. All he gained for his trouble were bloodied knuckles and a gnawing, desperate frustration.
And what was worse, every breath he took carried Erin’s scent, eroding his self-control another desperate inch.
When he finally gave up, he found her lying curled up on the floor on a pile of furs. With that unconscious gallantry he’d noticed before, she’d left him the bed.
Her slender arms hugged her own torso as if for comfort as her glorious blond hair tumbled across the dark pelts she lay across. Looking down at her, he felt tenderness tug at him.
He found himself wishing she were a bitch. It would be so much easier to keep his hands off her if he didn’t like her so damn much.
Reece bent and started to pick her up so he could carry her to the bed. Then he drew in a lungful of her scent. The wave of lust that crashed over him sent him backing warily away.
Touching her right now was not a good idea.
Stymied in his attempts to play gentleman, he stalked over to the bed and flung himself down on it to stare sightlessly at the ceiling.
Unfortunately, he knew there was no way he could sleep. Dawn—and the Daysleep it would force on his vampire body—was still a couple of hours away.
With a sigh of resignation he rolled to his feet and began to pace. If there was only some way he could signal the Magekind…But judging by the constellations outside, the cell was on the other side of Mageverse Earth.
He spun on his heel to pace the other way, and his eyes fell on Erin. She lay on her side, the lush curves of her hip and waist in relief against the black fur. One delicate pink nipple had escaped the confinement of her corset, and he could see the gold curls between her legs shimmering through the white lace of her panties. He imagined spreading those sweet thighs, sinking deep, forgetting the impossible situation that confronted them.
Once. He could take her one more time. That would be enough.
Be honest, you horny bastard. Once wouldn’t be enough. Not as long as I’m under this spell.
His balls literally ached, and the roots of his fangs throbbed. His cock was as hard as a crowbar. Reece jerked his eyes away from the distilled temptation of Erin Grayson’s lush little body.
Dammit, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this much. The spell was slowly turning up the heat on the Desire every moment that passed.
Reece wheeled away from her and stripped off his robe in a single violent yank, then dragged his silk trousers off. Naked, he strode to the Roman bath that took up one end of the room.
Stepping up onto the marble lip of the pool, he hoped it was ice cold.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t, he realized as he descended the steps into the waist-deep water. More like blood temperature. But it was some distraction, anyway.
Reece sat down in the water, letting it close over his head. He concentrated on holding his breath, hoping the eventual need to breathe would take his mind off his clawing desire for Erin.
But as he floated there, he felt the silken slide of the current ghosting over his bare skin like the brush of a woman’s fingers. His cock throbbed with the need to sink into Erin’s hot, cream-filled sheathe. He shuddered.
Dammit, I will not do this. Spell or no spell, I control my body. My body does not control me.
The water swirled gently against him, caressing his rock-hard shaft and the sensitive skin between his thighs. Erin’s hands had felt so soft when she’d touched him there.
Reece stood up, the water sluicing off his aching body. “Dammit.” Desperate for some way to distract his clamoring hunger, he looked around the room.
Just in time to see a collection of bottles and jars appear on a tray at one end of the bath. He stared at it. Oh, now that was interesting. What was it Geirolf said: “The cell provided for my every physical need—except freedom.”
When he stepped dripping from the bath to investigate, a stack of towels appeared on the floor. Reece scooped one up and dried himself off, considering the possibilities.
Testing, he wished for a Stinger Missile and looked around hopefully. Nothing. He tried wishing for a pitcher of blood next, but when he looked into the ewer on the table, it still held nothing but wine. Damn. Evidently Geirolf had found a way to alter the spell just enough to keep him hungry.
At least when it came to his vampire needs. There was still that intriguing collection of bottles.
When he picked one up and shook it, Reece found it contained some kind of oil. He pulled the elegant cork and sniffed cautiously. It smelled like sandalwood, but there didn’t seem any taint of magic to it.
Well, maybe he could take care of at least one hunger. He carried it to the bed.
After pouring a handful of scented oil into his palms, he threw himself down and wrapped his fingers around his cock. He wasn’t too proud to jack off, if it made it possible to stay away from Erin.
Reece forced himself to take his time. He needed to spin this out, make it last as long as possible. Maybe it would help him regain control, at least for a while.
Arching his back, he thrust his rigid shaft up into his palm, remembering what it had felt like to slide into her silken cream. She’d gripped him like oiled silk wrapped around his cock, and her nipples had tasted maddeningly of her erotic musk. Inhaling sharply, he found the room full of her scent. Reece closed his eyes with a low groan and drew it more deeply into his lungs as he stroked his shaft, cupping his tight balls with the other hand.
Then, in his mind, he let himself make love to her as he didn’t dare do in reality.
The Grand Palace of the Cachamwri Sidhe
Janieda flew into the throne room to find King Llyr Aleyn Galatyn pacing before his throne, his strides long and angry. She stopped to hover in the air, watching him, her wings beating slowly. They’d been lovers since his last wife died, at least a hundred years. Yet even after so long, his royal beauty never failed to take her breath away.
Like all those of the Galatyn bloodline, the king was tall, far taller than Janieda even in her full form. His body was leanly muscled, a fact made wonderfully evident by his dark blue doublet and hose. Intricate embroidery in silver thread glittered against the dark fabric, beaded here and there with emeralds that matched those in the silver coronet he wore. More of the stones gleamed against the soft blue leather of the thigh-high boots that hugged his long legs.
The dark expression on his handsome face made Janieda swallow and hope she wasn’t the one who’d aroused his ire. “Llyr?” she asked softly, landing on the gleaming marble floor. With a thought, she grew to her full height and approached him hesitantly. “What has you so angry, my love?”
“They refused me,” Llyr growled, still pacing. “Again! Those proud bitches turned their arrogant noses up at every one of my offers.”
A shaft of relief cut through her, but Janieda was too experienced a courtier to let it show. “And they always will.” He turned toward her, his opalescent eyes flashing. She forced herself to confront his anger. “I’m sorry, My Liege, but you know how the Majae’s Council keeps a tight rein on its witches. To allow one of them to become your queen would put her forever beyond their control. They’ll not do that.”
“Shortsighted fools,” he growled and wheeled away, his velvet cape swinging wide from his body. “An alliance would benefit them as much as it would the Cachamwri Sidhe.”
Janieda allowed herself a slight sneer. “They care only for this Great Mission of theirs, this plan to save the mortals.” She snorted. “A waste of time, if you ask me. They all eventually die anyway.”
“Well, if my brother wins this war between us, the Majae may well wish they’d bothered to assist me,” Llyr said, dropping into his throne to glower. “I know Ansgar. With me gone, he’d turn his attention to mortal Earth with a conqueror’s eye.” He tilted his head back and stared grimly at the ceiling. “Unfortunately, I will not be around to gloat.”
“Did you…” She hesitated a moment, then continued carefully, “Did you tell them about Geirolf?” He had said before he left that he intended to warn the Majae that Merlin’s ancient enemy had escaped his cell.
Llyr’s handsome mouth tightened. “No.” He made an impatient gesture. “Perhaps I should have, but I was so infuriated at their treatment of me that I did not.”
Janieda relaxed fractionally. As long as the witches did not discover Geirolf’s cell had a new occupant, her secret was safe.
At least for a while.
The Cell
“Erin—” The voice drew her from sleep with its low, male growl of sensual need.
Erin opened her eyes and blinked at the stone ceiling overhead without recognition. She lay on a pile of furs, but the floor below that was hard. Where the hell—
Champion gasped.
She sat up quickly and looked around for him, her heart pounding as the unbelievable events of the last several hours rushed back.
He was sprawled facedown on the bed. For a moment of raw, unadulterated panic, she thought Geirolf had done something to him. Then he moaned, and the rasping hunger in the sound made her take a second, harder look.
He was asleep, his lashes fanned dark against the arrogant angle of his cheek.
Erin sucked in a deep breath and blew it out in relief. He must be in the Daysleep he’d mentioned sometime before she’d dropped off herself. Magi—vampires—needed that deep, almost comatose rest as much as they did blood.
Unlike Merlin’s people, they’d been born in a nonmagical dimension, so the rules were slightly different for them. They took blood and the psychic energy of pleasure from their partners, but it was in sleep that they drew on their connection to the Mageverse to power their abilities.
Champion sighed and moved, his powerful torso flexing. Erin blinked as it hit her he was completely naked.
And beautiful.
When he’d made love to her, his erotic assault on her senses had made it impossible to concentrate on anything but what he was doing. Now her fascinated gaze tracked over the curves and angles of hard-packed muscle, the long, strong legs, the brawny line of his glutes. He had an utterly gorgeous ass. She felt a sudden, wicked impulse to sink her teeth into it.
Grateful for the distraction from a grim reality, Erin sat up and ogled him shamelessly. Even asleep, Reece wore an intense expression on that battered pirate face of his. A tight line cut between dark brows drawn low over his closed eyes, and his mouth was open slightly, revealing the points of his fangs. One arm was bent, hanging off the bed, corded biceps bulging as he held a handful of the fur cover gripped hard in a big fist.
“Erin,” he whispered again.
She blinked. Was he dreaming about her?
Then, as she watched, he thrust his hips into the bed beneath him.
Oh.