Invincible: The Curse of Avalon #4

by Skye, Sariah

  “Ava?” Mathias called once again, and I winced. “Come on, and bring that Scottish bastard with you! Rhys found something!”

  “Something?” I looked at Trystan in confusion and we just shrugged. “Unless you won the lottery or aliens are out back, I’ll stay here, thanks!” I shouted back, and Trystan snickered behind his hand.

  “Avie!”

  “Ugh. Five minutes!” I called back and grumbled.

  Trystan reached over, and pulled the blanket off of me once again, revealing my naked body to the chilly air of the room, and I let out a shriek. “Up and at ‘em, luv!”

  I released a crabby snarl. “I don’t wanna. I like it here,” I whimpered petulantly. I loved Mathias and the guys, but out there was the real world. Out there was Arthur and Nimue and witches needing things and—gulp—Rhys needing birth control because he was a man-whore. In here I was just Ava Dawson with Trystan Munro, without a care in the world. Pouting, I watched as Trystan moved to get out of bed, but before he could get up, I crawled towards him on the mattress, a flirty expression in my eyes and I eagerly sought his mouth with my own. He easily gave into the kiss, threading his hands through my blonde hair, lips parting when I probed for entry. Then his eyes opened before he narrowed them in a glare at me. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “Is it working?” I asked seductively.

  “Yep.” Trystan wrapped his arms around me and pulled my naked body into his, my bare breasts pressing against his taut, muscled pecs and he moves to kiss me feverishly and sexy romp number two between us for the last eight hours was about to begin, when we both were startled by the loud, deafening shriek of Bash’s ward-alarms going off.

  “Guessing that has something to do with Rhys?” I suggested, pressing my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the chaotic noise. Dogs barked from the living room, and the guys were yelling back and forth. I sighed begrudgingly and exchanged a regrettable look with Trystan before I slid out of bed to find my clothes, discarded last night. Trystan, with a groan, rose his hands over his head in a deep stretch and let out a little grunt as he headed for the attached bathroom, not bothering to care that alarms were ringing or that he was stark naked.

  I found my shirts and leggings on the ground and exhaled with relief when the alarm was finally shut off. That didn’t mean whatever was there was no longer there, so I figured I should probably get moving. Hopefully it was only a witch who’d accidentally did her spell a bit too close to the perimeter, and she accidentally set off the wards.

  I had begun to dress when I realized: I had no underwear. Scowling severely, I glanced on the floor, tossed aside the blankets, everything, I couldn’t find them.

  You have to be kidding me… “Trystan, did you take my damned panties?” I hollered to him in the bathroom.

  “I thought ye hated that word?” He shouted back, avoiding the question.

  “I’m never going to live that one down…” I muttered. “No, seriously, what did you do with my panties? Do you secretly put them on when I’m gone and dance around in the mirror to ‘I Feel Pretty’?”

  Trystan emerged from the bathroom, wearing a pair of green plaid boxers—dammit, no more naked Trystan—and burst out laughing. “Och, I’ve been caught.”

  “Ha. No really, where is my underwear?” I demanded, crossing the room to give him a gentle shove and defiantly resting my hands on my hips, tapping an irritated foot.

  He reached out a hand and brushed it under my chin. “A man’s got to have something of inspiration for when he’s… alone.”

  Blinking repeatedly, I wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or grossed out. Right now, I was going with grossed out. “I’m… just going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” I began to head out of Trystan’s room when I paused, and went for the bathroom instead, swiping the bottle of toner and the jar of face cream I kept on the sink.

  “Och, why ya taking those? You not coming back?” Trystan asked with confusion.

  “Of course I am. I’m borrowing them for Mathias’ room. He… used all mine,” I replied with a grimace.

  Trystan snorted. “You’re kidding me?” He fell on his bed, laughing uproariously and I left him there in his fit of giggles.

  With a groan, I emerged from Trystan’s room, barely coherent enough to toss my hair in a messy ponytail and not trip over a wolf and three dogs as I stumbled down the hallway. “The fuck is going on?”

  “About time you emerged,” Mathias said, giving me the once over. I blushed, knowing he probably knew exactly what happened in that bedroom. “Sleep well?”

  “I was until you started yelling,” I pouted, purposely stalking past him to plop on a chair, but he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back into him, leaning over to pelt my cheek and temple with little, scratchy bearded kisses, his fair falling into his eyes and tickling my forehead.

  “Staahhp,” I warned, not very convincingly. I caught the eye of Xander, who was sitting at the island, expectantly waiting for me. Obviously. “The hell is going on?”

  “Not sure,” was all Bash replied. He had the secret wall panel and the weapon closet open and appeared to be watching some sort of video. “I’m not sure what’s out there.”

  Trystan emerged from his bedroom, shirtless and still appearing a little groggy. I tried not to grin too hard as he brushed his hands over his face and hair, trying to look composed. The reason he looked so tired was well… me.

  And I liked that.

  “Och, shite,” he grumbled, adjusting his plaid pants so they weren’t nearly almost falling off. “Now what is going on?”

  “It’s Mordred!”

  We watched the wizard pop in suddenly, but Bash was in concentration and didn’t, so he startled and jumped about five feet in the air. He turned and glared severely at Rhys.

  “Goddammit, we need to put a bell or something on you so you stop sneaking up on us like that! Fuck!” Bash shook his head, cursing under his breath.

  “Nevermind that. Mordred, you say?” Mathias cocked a brow. “How do you know? Have you seen him?”

  Rhys rolled his eyes. “Duh, I tried to tell you that earlier.”

  “No, you came in here going ‘guys, guys, there’s something outside’!” Xander argued, jumping up and down in his seat, pretending to sound giddy and weird like Rhys. My hand went to my face to stifle my huge laugh, as Xander grinned at me.

  “How do you know, though?” Mathias asked, ignoring Xander’s immature display.

  Rhys snorted. “Please. I sensed a magic surge in the vicinity and followed it. He looks just like that bitch Nimue—it’s him.”

  The guys all exchanged grim looks.

  “Were you seen, Rhys?” Bash inquired, but Rhys flicked his long hair over his shoulder, puffing out his chest and posturing proudly.

  “Of course not,” he said flippantly, as if it should be obvious. “But it could be some sort of trick. He was wearing the tabard of Camelot, so I assume it was him but…”

  “—but we can’t be too careful. Good thinking.” The wheels were obviously turning in Bash’s mind and he was in the closet rummaging for only the gods knew what when it came to the genius siphon.

  Rhys’ mouth dropped open. He ran up beside me and whispered into my ear. “Did he just pay me a compliment?”

  Snickering, I grinned. “I think so.”

  “Well damn. Here I thought Trystan was the only one who loved me. Now I guess maybe the hot genius does too.” Rhys wiggled his brow at me, and I reached out to shove him playfully.

  “Shite, yer mad…” Trystan grumbled behind us.

  Mathias reacted by sighing audibly with irritation. “Where was he, Rhys?”

  “He didn’t actually breech the wards, did he?” Xander piped up, and Rhys shook his head.

  “Nope. He was standing there looking confused and bitching about how tough they were to penetrate,” Rhys said with a smirk, and from inside the closet we could all hear Bash laughing evilly to himself.

  “So, he was at the edg
e of the property?” Mathias gave a pointed nod to Xander and Trystan. “Weapon up, boys. We’re gonna meet ourselves a prince.”

  Chapter Six

  The new Avalon area was so large that it was quicker to drive to the edge of the property. We piled in Mathias’ Suburban, Trystan in front with Mathias, Rhys in the middle next to Bash, Xander and I at the back. It was pretty unbelievable to think the guys owned this much. And how. Good thing that they did though.

  The edge of the property was closed off by a fence and a gate that required one of our handprints to get in and out of. Mathias rolled down the window and waved his hand at a plate, and the gate parted. Literally, we were a fortress. It was amazing that Rhys ever got in.

  “Where is he supposed to be?” Mathias asked.

  “Not sure. Just somewhere out here. He was, anyway,” Rhys said, and we parked just outside the gate, and waited. Mathias shut his window; the temp was about twenty degrees cooler beyond Avalon. It couldn’t have been more than 45°F.

  We didn’t have to wait long. Much like the way Nimue ported out, a swirl of shadow appeared nearby, and slowly Mordred’s form appeared. Though, somehow it wasn’t nearly as dark or disconcerting as Nimue’s.

  Rhys was the first out, not even bothering with pesky automobile doors. He teleported straight out just inches from Mordred, and glowered at him. He flicked his hand to the side and summoned a very ominous ball of green, swirling magic. Xander from next to me appeared impressed, cocking his head to the side.

  “There may be hope for the crazy ass yet,” he murmured, and Bash grunted in approval.

  Boys.

  Mathias and Bash were first out, and Xander grabbed my hand and stayed glued to me. Territorial streak, I imagined; at least this time it wasn’t towards the other guys. For that, I was thankful.

  As usual, Trystan brought up the rear, having no qualms about sliding his hand over my backside. At one time their territorial streaks would have angered me, now it was actually endearing, because I knew the reasons why: they loved me. And, they weren’t controlling or anything at all; just…cautious.

  Mordred stood patiently, waiting for all of us to file towards him. He had tanned skin and the same dark hair as Nadina, and Arthur’s icy eyes, but even still he was nowhere near as foreboding or slimy as either of them. There was an actual air of amicability radiating off him. He carried no obvious weapons, which was a good sign but he probably didn’t need one with his bizarre shadow magic. Still, as Bash always said… magic always had a weakness. And that weakness was currently in the form of a six-foot, sexy as fuck, broad shouldered and lithely muscled blond incubus.

  As soon as Bash approached him, Mathias allowing him to take the lead since he was the magic genius, Mordred lowered himself into a sweeping bow. “It is good to meet you. I am Mordred of Camelot.”

  Bash’s chest puffed out in a skeptic grunt. Behind his back, I watched him slip a sachet out of his jeans pocket and pour some of the white powder into his hands, smoothing them together. The whole thing took about two seconds, he was lightning-fast. With that, anyway—not where it counted if you knew what I meant. He held out his hand with a newfound confidence. “Sebastian Porter. Good to meet you.”

  Reluctantly, Mordred grasped his hand and they shook once. “Are you here to kill us? Do you have any weapons on you? Are you going to do something to Avalon? Backstab us to Arthur or Nimue? Hurt my fiancée or my brothers?” One of Bash’s eyes narrowed expectantly

  “I do have a single dagger, and I will show it to you. I mean no harm with it, and no to all the rest, but I appreciate your caution. Truth powder, is it not?” Mordred pulled his hand away, admiring a light substance on his hand.

  Bash was tense being found out, but after a moment he relaxed when the powder did whatever the hell it was supposed to do. “Good. If you’d been lying or had any sort of lie on your tongue, even your birthdate, you’d be dead where you stood. Or at least severely incapacitated.”

  “Shite.” Trystan muttered behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to exchange an awed nod with him. Sometimes, Bash was downright frightening the way his mind worked. I was beginning to think even scarier than Mathias at times. You expected Mathias to be scary; he was hulking, large, foreboding. You’d never expect it of Bash with his boy-next-door-good looks.

  “What about the weapon?” Bash demanded firmly.

  “Ah, yes.” Bash was on guard, poised to act if Mordred should betray us. Mordred lifted a hand in a gesture of surrender, while reaching under his tabard with the other, and retrieving a hidden, dark-metallic blade. The blade was curvy on both sides, with a gilded hilt, and totally black. “Enhanced with shadow.” He offered it to Bash, who swiped it away, his scrutinizing gaze never leaving Mordred. Bash palmed the hilt, holding the weapon in front of him, looking it over intently.

  “No poison, but the shadow is interesting. What is its purpose?” He asked, eyeing both the weapon and Mordred with curiosity.

  “Just makes it stronger and a bit lighter. I also like the way it looks,” Mordred replied, with a gentle smile. Rhys almost grinned at that. But not quite.

  “Right. You won’t mind if we hold this?” Bash didn’t wait for an answer, he shoved the blade through the belt loops on his jeans.

  “Of course not,” Mordred insisted. Bash didn’t reply, just kept his intense, wary gaze on him.

  “Well, now that we have that out of the way,” Mathias said. Satisfied Bash had done his thing, he approached Mordred himself. “If you hop in the car, we can drive you over the wards. We won’t allow teleportation on the premises.”

  “Except from me!” Rhys added, and Mathias scowled briefly, and rolled his eyes.

  “Except from the crazy wizard.” Rhys was positively giddy.

  “Car?” Mordred asked uncertainly.

  “Oh yes. Big, noisy, smelly. A bit like a horse—or Trystan—but easier to ride,” Rhys quipped, and behind me I heard the sound of hand slapping on skin when the Scot facepalmed himself.

  “Och, that daft bastard. I’ll have you know, Merlin, I’m quite damn easy to ride, if you have the right equipment,” Trystan retorted, slapping me in the ass. “Isn’t that right, luv?”

  Shaking my head, I decided to oblige him. “Yes, Trystan. Whatever you say.”

  “By the gods, you got her to agree?” Xander exclaimed in mock amazement. “Without an argument?” He pretended to bow down over and over again, like he was worshipping some god.

  I glared at him. “Keep it up, Elsa, and that will be the only bowing I will allow you to do for the next month.”

  Mordred smiled cautiously at our obnoxious banter, as he reluctantly climbed into the vehicle, looking out of place in his crimson tabard and medieval clothing as he sat in the modern contraption. I took my normal seat in back in between Bash and Xander, and Rhys scowled when Mordred attempted to sit next to him. He moved to the complete edge of the seat by the window, still balancing a ball of green magic in his hand. In fact, he was pretending to juggle it back and forth between both hands, like a ball.

  “Merlin. It’s a pleasure to make your official acquaintance, finally,” Mordred greeting politely, nearly looking like he was going to have a heart attack when the vehicle roared to life and started to move.

  “Hmmph.” Rhys turned up his nose at the prince of Camelot, with a sneer on his handsome face. “Of course it is. Wish I could say the same.”

  Bash and Xander tittered and chortled into their fists from either side of me, and Rhys tossed them an amused yet satisfied grin over his shoulder. Nothing like the enemy of the enemy to make them friends. Men are so damned weird.

  We were silent the rest of the way to the house, and Mordred appeared positively mortified the entire way, startling with each bump and roar of the vehicle. Rhys literally looked overjoyed, watching the “prince” suffer.

  “So, this is Avalon now,” Mordred mused out loud, as we pulled into the driveway. “It is…different than what I expected.”

  Rhys snorte
d in reply. “Of course, it is, Dark Prince. You’re centuries behind the times. Get with it.” He slapped Mordred gently in the arm, and Mordred turned to give him a scathing death stare.

  “And I suppose you are ‘with the times’, is that right, Merlin?”

  Rhys tossed his ponytail flippantly over his shoulder. “Of course. I even have a Zune and everything.”

  Bash let out a loud, high pitched laugh, reaching over my lap to smack Xander in the arm. “You want to tell him, or should I?” Xander just grinned impishly.

  “Knock it off,” I scolded, pushing them gently with both hands. “I can still cut you off, you know.”

  “Yeah, but you won’t,” Xander replied under his breath, but smiled sweetly at me when I glowered at him.

  “Enough, all of you,” Mathias demanded, as we all filed out of the vehicle. Mordred appeared a little green, but no worse for the wear.

  Igraine and Morgause had wandered from their cottages towards the center of the property, and I introduced him.

  “Prince Mordred of Camelot,” I replied formally. “This is my grandmother, Igraine, and my aunt, Morgause.”

  Mordred dipped at the waist, offering a reverent bow. “It is good to finally meet you.”

  “You as well,” Igraine said politely.

  “Would you care to join us?” Mathias asked the witches, and they both nodded.

  “That is why we are here,” Morgause replied, as Mathias led the group of us into the house.

  “Won’t you sit down?” Mathias requested formally of the prince, and Mordred cautiously sat in one of the plush chairs, appearing surprised at how it felt. The gladiator chose to stand and make himself imposing, his thick arms gently flexed as he folded them over the wide expanse of his chest. I felt a warm shudder shoot through me as I watched him; he was so damned sexy he didn’t even need to try. His brown eyed stare caught mine and the corner of his mouth quirked into a little smile, but he remained his generally imposing self.

  Xander and Bash sat side by side on the sofa. Xander pulled me into his lap, and I stretched my legs over Bash. Trystan appeared slighted and left out but when I blew him a kiss and gave him a naughty wink. He grinned smugly, flopped a large cushion on the floor and sat on the ground within my arm’s length.