They started up the stairs together. Davon tried not to think of people climbing the steps to the guillotine. When they reached the top floor, he stopped to meet her gaze. Aching. Longing. “I guess I’ll have to sleep in my bedroom. Otherwise you’ll wonder…”
Her hand locked in his hair and dragged his head down for a kiss that held tongue, teeth, and raw desperation. When Alys finally drew back, she rested her forehead against his. He spotted the shine of tears on her eyelashes. “I need you,” she said in a ragged voice. “I don’t care if it’s the world’s shortest quickie. I need… Not to think for the next thirty minutes.” The cinnamon eyes lifted and caught his. “Can you do that for me?”
He reached up and cupped her face in both hands. “I’ll do my damnedest.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, and she nodded and turned toward her bedroom door as if unable to speak.
They entered together. Like the rest of the house, it was a beautiful space. A glorious stained-glass skylight depicted a wreath of intertwined roses, irises, lilies, and bluebells, fairies playing among the blooms. An enormous bed, this one lacking a canopy, lay centered beneath it. A magnificent tapestry bedspread repeated the floral pattern against a background of white silk.
Usually Davon liked to take his time examining the room, checking to see what new magical decoration had appeared since the last time he’d entered. This time he was too busy aching to care as he followed her to the bed.
Alys put the circlet’s box on the elaborately carved oak nightstand. The click of wood meeting wood rang like a gunshot.
Davon caught her shoulders and spun her around, hauling her into his arms. She moaned, the sound desperate and grieving, as his mouth came down over hers, his tongue thrusting in to stroke and circle hers.
They stood there eating at each other in kisses fueled by anxiety and helpless need. Finally Alys dragged her mouth away and stared up at him, breathing hard. “Oh God, help me forget. Help me think about something else.”
Davon reached for the sundress she’d worn during that last trip to Mortal Earth, but Alys gestured. Light flared, and every stitch they were wearing vanished.
Her abrupt, graceful nudity took his breath away. He took an instinctive step back so his gaze could slide down the full length of Alys’s body, taking in the round, high breasts, the slim waist, the lean, muscular grace. His fangs began to throb in time to the pulse in his dick. Every inch of his body clamored for the taste of hers, the smell of her, the velvet press of her skin.
“I don’t want slow,” she told him, a ragged note in her voice. “I don’t want gentle. I need hard and fast and mindless.”
“I can do that. Will do that. Exactly the way you need it.” It was a vow. Davon moved back in, pulling her close to kiss his way down the line of her throat, tracing the delicate veins with the tip of his tongue, listening to her heart thunder more in despair than desire.
It was up to him to change that. To make sure she wanted him as something more than a distraction.
She looked up at him, her eyes eating the rainbow light. “Now’s good.”
He grinned. “Yes, it certainly is.”
Davon bent, swept her off her feet, and tossed her lightly onto the bed. Her laughter sounded a little too tight.
And became a startled gasp as he landed on her a heartbeat later, flattening her beneath his male weight. Deliberately letting her feel just how much bigger he was. How much stronger he was.
He met her gaze. And for the first time in all the years he’d known her, he let the predator show, abandoning his careful self-control for once in his damned life.
* * *
Alys gasped as he rolled over her like a storm, his mouth hot and greedy. The sting of his fangs raking across her skin was just the perfect pain to jerk her out of the spiral of fear.
His fangs scraped her skin as he nibbled and sucked his way down her belly, drawing blood. He muttered a rough apology and stopped to lick and suckle that tiny wound, cleaning it with wild circles of his tongue. As he caressed and stroked with skillful hands, he squeezed just a bit too hard, moved just a little too fast.
And it was just right. Just exactly what she needed to empty her mind of everything else but Davon.
His mouth found her nipple, sucking, fierce, each hot tug sending a comet of pleasure flashing through her body.
She watched the roll of muscle underneath his smooth brown skin. And stroked him, loving the feel of him under her hands, the strain and stretch of his powerful body as he worked to build her need.
Rearing in his arms, Alys found his shoulder with her mouth, tasting hot sweat. Drinking in that intoxicating vampire musk. “Let me taste you,” she panted, suddenly dying to stuff her mouth with cock. To give him the same pleasure he was giving her.
“No.” His eyes lifted to meet hers, narrow, fierce, brooking no opposition.
“But…”
Before she could do more than yelp, he dragged her hips up and draped her knees over his shoulders. Instinctively, Alys tried to struggle, but she had no more chance against that vampire strength than she did against a runaway stallion’s.
She jerked as Davon’s mouth found her pussy and began to lick. His tongue flickered over and around her clit as one finger slid into her pussy. Pushed deep, pulled out, scissoring and stretching her as he ate her with dark male greed. Fangs scraped that most delicate flesh. Not in a bite -- exactly -- more like a teasing sting. A reminder that for all Davon’s good soldier instincts, there was a predator just beneath.
She’d assumed they’d have to use lube, given… well, everything. But as that long tongue tormented her clit in rhythm with his working fingers, her pussy swelled and grew slick. She cried out into the mattress, bright piercing streaks of delight racing through her body. The muscles of her thighs began to shake.
Davon went right on feasting. The tip of a fang caught her again, and he rumbled a rough apology, closing his mouth over it -- and engulfing her clit at the same time. He suckled so hard she dug her nails into the mattress and yowled like a cat.
“Yeah. That. I want more of that sound.” He jerked up away from her, lifted her by the hips, and tossed her to the middle of the mattress. She jackknifed up, but he landed between her spread legs, grabbed her by the thighs, and flipped her onto her face. One hand closed on the back of her head, holding it down as he hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her ass into the air.
His thick cock brushed her juicing slit. Found the opening. And pushed, filling her in a hard, merciless rush. And God, he felt huge and delicious and she screamed as he kept coming and coming, stretching, pulling, pain and pleasure and…
“Mine. Mine, mine, mine,” he chanted, punctuating each word with another thrust, circling his hips, making her feel every glorious inch of his cock screwing in and out of her pussy.
Alys had never felt so turned on, not even by lovers with centuries more experience. I didn’t love any of them. Crying out, frantic in her arousal, she slid a hand between her legs and found her clit. Stroked it as he pounded, his thick cock raking slick walls, every thrust wringing more and more pleasure out of her body. Her orgasm barreled closer, fierce as a solar storm.
Hooking an arm around her chest, Davon dragged her up and the back until she was kneeling upright, changing their position. Then he hauled her onto his lap and impaled her on that thick cock again.
“Merlin’s beard!” she gasped.
He laughed in her ear. “Merlin didn’t have a beard. Merlin looked fifteen.”
“Who the fuck cares?” she hissed as he began to pound her with a delicious lack of mercy.
Alys tossed her head back, half-blinded by the waves of sensation he exacted with every stroke. Davon nuzzled her arched throat and chuckled, à la Bela Lugosi, “I vant to drink your blood.”
“Take it!” Alys spread her legs and angled her body until she could impale herself again and again on the rigid jut of his cock, crying out in agonized pleasure, loving the raw intensity of
the penetration.
He didn’t bite.
She wanted him to. Desperately.
He reached between her legs to find her clit as he hunched fiercely up into her. She felt the hot, wet stroke of his tongue as he licked the line of her throat, tasting the veins there. “Jesus, Davon, would you just fucking do it?”
“You sure?” There was a taunt in his voice.
“Yes!” It was a scream, a plea, shameless and hungry.
Davon bit deep, his fingers dancing over her clit. That delicious pain was just what she needed to hurtle her into a ferocious orgasm. She screamed as he drowned her in fire, the pleasure rolling on and on as he drank, her pleasure-tormented body writhing in his arms.
He bellowed as he came.
* * *
Davon gathered her back against him, cuddling her in his arms. “God, I wish I could go to sleep with you.”
“There isn’t time.” Her voice sounded harsh, hoarse.
He wanted to ask if he’d ever have a chance to do this again -- if they’d die tomorrow. Shuddering, he remembered the hours of practice -- and how many times he’d fucked up the timing of a sword stroke or a leap. If he did that tomorrow…
His arms tightened convulsively. “Jesus, I hope I don’t fuck this up.”
She turned her head, angling it to look up at him. “You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.” When she opened her mouth, he said, “Yeah, you saw it, but something could go wrong.”
“It won’t. Kiss me.”
With a deep groan, he leaned forward to take her lips, swirling his tongue around hers. Feeling his chest ache even as he gave her all the heat and hope and fear in him. Finally, she lifted off his lap, pulling free of his softening cock. It felt as if something tore. She pivoted on her knees to face him, taking his face between her palms. Cinnamon eyes stared deeply into his. Demanding belief. “I love you.”
He froze, and for a moment it seemed his heart stopped.
“You look so shocked.” She stroked his hair back from his forehead, toying with the longer curls at the crown of his head.
Davon licked suddenly dry lips. “When did that happen?”
Her lips twitched, and for a moment the warmth in her eyes overcame the pain and fear. “I’m not quite sure. I think you’ve been sneaking up on me for a while now.”
A memory rose, and he smiled. “I remember the first time I saw you. It was at the party to celebrate Warlock’s defeat after the attack on Avalon.” Reaching up, he stroked a hand through her wild black curls. “There was so much power around you, you made my skin tingle.” His smile widened. “Then again, the tingle may have been because you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And you scared the hell out of me.”
She snorted. “The Mad Alys rumors probably had something to do with that.”
Davon shrugged. “Maybe a little. But I started falling in love with you then. I’ve never stopped.”
She gave him a smile, though he could see the effort in it. “We’ll get through this. Trust me.”
“Trusting you has never been the issue.”
“Then trust you. I do.” She tilted her head back to look at the skylight and sighed. “And we’ve just run out of time.”
Alys crawled across the bed to the nightstand where the box waited. Flipping open the lid, she looked down at the gleaming circlet for a long moment. A shudder ran the length of her body. “Let’s do this.”
Let’s don’t. But he didn’t say it.
Alys squared her shoulders, took the circlet out of the box and slipped it on, adjusting it until the curling vines framed her face. Blowing out of breath, she lay down, stretching out on the big bed.
Davon eased down beside her, encircling her in his arms, needing to hold her. Because this might be the last time.
“I love you,” she said again.
“And I love you.” His arms tightened convulsively. “I won’t fail you.”
“I know you won’t.” The circlet began to glow, dim at first, then brighter and brighter as the magic built. Her eyes met his, and for a moment he saw her terror. Then they rolled back and her face went blank as her eyes closed.
Davon lay staring at her, battling a suffocating wave of fear. At last he pulled the circlet off her head and tucked it back in its box. He picked the box up and carried it downstairs, where he returned it to its place on the lab shelves.
That done, he dragged himself back up the stairs to his bedroom and climbed into bed to wait for the sun to put him out of his misery.
* * *
Sunset liberated Davon to jerk awake in a rush of fear and adrenaline.
He shuddered, remembering his nightmares. Most of the time the Daysleep was like being hit with a hammer -- you went down hard and didn’t wake up again until the sun went down. If he had dreams, he usually didn’t remember them.
Today, he’d dreamed of watching Alys die.
It was a good thing vampires didn’t have prophetic visions -- that was the Majae’s burden.
He hoped.
Davon rolled out of bed, battling yet another wave of anxiety. No sooner had his feet hit the floor than Alys called through his bedroom door, “Davon, we’ve got a job. Come on.”
Davon grimaced, hoping he’d join her to find he’d dreamed the whole terrifying thing.
He knew better.
Carefully, he arranged his features into an expression that would hopefully pass for alert rather than devastated and terrified.
When he stepped into the hall, Alys waited, fully armored. She made a graceful, swirling gesture and magic rolled around him, a spill of effervescence tingling across his skin to become his own armor.
Automatically, he put a hand back to feel the hilt of his usual sword in its back scabbard. “What’s the mission?” he asked, knowing exactly what she’d say. Hoping he sounded normal.
“Bres is sending a team to hit a Maja who’s gone on sabbatical to raise her children on Mortal Earth. We’re going to get there first and tell her to gate for Avalon with the kids.” She bared her white teeth. “Then we’re going to kick Fomo ass.”
Davon nodded and asked, because he normally would, “Are we calling for backup?”
She shook her head. “There are only four of them. We can handle them without breaking a sweat.”
It would be a lot more than four, but he didn’t tell her that. The taste of betrayal burned his tongue like acid. He hoped to God nothing of what he felt showed on his face. Luckily Alys was already turning away, sweeping one hand in an oval, her fingers shaping some tight bit of magic to direct the gate.
It instantly bloomed outward, and she stepped through. Davon strode after her, his belly tying itself in a sick, writhing knot.
His booted feet came down on a gleaming wooden floor. Glancing around, he saw they were in a bedroom that belonged to a pair of small boys, judging by the twin beds shaped like the Batmobile standing against opposite walls.
A Latina woman sat with the children in her lap, staring at them in frozen astonishment from one of the beds. The kids were ridiculously cute, maybe four or five years old, so close in age they look like twins. Both had enormous brown eyes and tousled chocolate curls, and both wore matching Captain America jammies.
Their mother had been reading Where the Wild Things Are. Appropriate.
The witch’s dark eyes narrowed, taking on an enraged glint as a shield popped up around the three. She looked barely twenty-five -- but then, she’d look no older if she were Arthur’s age. For a moment, he thought he and Alys were about to get force-fed a fireball. Then she blinked and visibly relaxed. The shield winked out. “Alys? What are you doing here?” A faint Spanish accent softened her vowels.
“I had a vision, Carilla. Bres is sending an attack team to grab you and your kids. You need to get them to safety in Avalon. Now.” She gestured toward the gate she’d left open.
“Bres?” The witch’s eyes went wide and appalled. “You have got to be kidding me!” She looked bac
k at her children, and instantly her expression smoothed as she forced a smile. “Come on, boys, we’re going to Mommy’s house in Avalon.” She lifted the younger of the two and put him on his feet beside the bed.
The other scrambled to the floor. “But I thought we were going to go to the movie tomorrow!”
“I’ll take you to see Smoke instead. If you ask him nicely, maybe he’ll turn into a tiger for you and let you ride him around.”
At that, both boys’ faces lit. They made no further protest as she guided them toward Alys’s open gate. Before they started through, Carilla paused and shot them a look of concern. “Have you called for backup?”
Alys made an airy gesture. “Not necessary. Davon and I can handle it.”
“You sure about that?” The Maja frowned deeply, her gaze sliding to Davon, who tried not to look as grim as he felt. Her lips tightened. “If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’ll call backup for you.”
And she will, too. It just won’t do any damn good.
Carilla disappeared through the gate with her kids, thus ensuring their survival. They’d have all been dead in ten minutes otherwise. Alys turned and gave Davon a Mad Alys smile. She did love a good fight. “Let’s throw our blue friends a surprise party.” Then her gaze narrowed and went sharp, staring at him. “What’s wrong?”
Crap. “Nothing.”
“Yeah, right. Look, I’ve seen this. They’re not going to lay a hand on either one of us.”
Davon gave her the confident smile he’d once employed to encourage parents, even when he feared their kid would die on the table. “Of course not. I have faith in us.”
She grinned back. “You should.”
He followed her out of the bedroom and down the hall, through a den strewn with Legos and action figures. The kitchen they passed through still smelled of garlic and spaghetti and a hint of the cleanser the Maja had made obvious use of. She was serious about pretending to be a “normal” mom for her kids. At least all three would survive this. He and Alys had accomplished that much.
Davon had never been so terrified, including the night he’d expected the werewolves to execute him for Jimmy Sheridan’s murder.
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