A part of him wanted for her to glow that way for him. Suddenly, it was imperative that he experience everything. Now, while he could. Cal twisted around, one hand on the dashboard. “Gennie, allow me to stay. Show me your family Christmas with Stevie, Rory, and Ben."
Gennie took her eyes away from driving for a moment, then focused back on her task. “I should give you over to Merle.” She sounded hesitant.
Call shook his head. “By your own words, the wizard will be at the party. I will return to my original form the next night and be out of your way soon enough.” His words tasted of grovelling, but he didn't care. The allure of being a part of a human ‘family’ became his grail. “Allow me this, please, Genevieve. Let me be a part of your family until Christmas Eve. After that, I will return willingly to Merlin's tomb."
The car stopped with a screech.
Cal flew forward. Before he hit the dash, he jerked back into the seat.
"What do you mean tomb?"
He barely heard her as he clawed at the seatbelt around his neck, fighting to gasp for air.
Unlatched from her own belt, she untwisted the seatbelt from his neck and shoulders. Taking his chin in hand, she met his eyes. “That means you're going to turn back, doesn't it?"
Pulling free of her grasp, he jerked and tugged the strap from his body. The metal tab hit the door and the seatbelt slowly retracted, like a snake slinking into its hole.
"That thing is dangerous! Why tie yourself into the car, if the seatbelt is going to choke you to death when the car stops?"
"Excalibur!"
He glared at her. "What?"
"What. Tomb?” She said each word with exaggerated patience.
Cal sighed, slumping into the seat while he avoided her beautiful brown eyes.
Outside, human families went about their daily lives. Children ran from dwelling to dwelling, laughing with their friends. That life belonged to Gennie and her people. Not a magical construct meant to serve the Greater Good.
"Genevieve, you are of the line of Pendragon. Do you not know your own legacy?"
Obviously not, from the firm line of her lips.
Lips he wanted to press his own against. To taste. Forbidden images of what humans did in the dark flickered in his mind. The images made his blood race and stirred his body.
He swallowed, forcing the words he did not want to think of, much less voice. His own destiny. His curse. “I am Excalibur, crafted by human and fae hands. Bound to both the Pendragon line and the stone. Once I am released, the wielder has three days and four nights to prove himself worthy. On the fourth day, if my owner fails, I return to my stone prison to await the next Pendragon."
Gennie shook her head. Her eyes fixed on him.
Did he see a shine of wetness?
"But ... I knew that. But ... you're human now."
He sighed, reaching out to touch a golden coil of her hair. “I told you, my lady. I am only a human pretender. The magic that binds us will rule."
She grasped the hand twined in her hair, unminding of the strands pulled free. “But ... why would Merle make you human if ... oh."
Cal's heart ached for the turmoil churning inside her.
Her head bowed. A wet drop fell on their joined hands. “To keep you out of Mordred's hands."
"Yes. And now that threat is gone. On Christmas day I will return to my original form. Should you take up your legacy, I may not have to return to the stone."
She raised her head to meet his eyes. Wet tracks marred the clean perfection of her cheeks. Denial filled her eyes. “I'm not the one.” She laughed, a harsh self-depreciating sound of denial. “Somehow, I think I lack the necessary equipment for that job."
Cal didn't care to argue the point. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned in, his lips scant inches from hers.
"Then show me how to live.” Brushing his lips across her soft bottom lip, he breathed in her scent. The flavour intimated things dark and delicious delights. “Show me ... everything."
* * * *
Gennie's emotions rocketed from being more turned on than she'd ever been in her whole life to grief-stricken with the thought of Cal being trapped. What must it be like to be aware but unable to interact? For thousands of years?
She'd go crazy.
Would it be cruel to introduce him to what he asked, then have him suffer with the knowledge of what he'd lost? Or would the greater sin be to refuse his wish? To track down Merle and hand Cal over like an object.
Logic said, hand him over. Magic made everything possible.
Twining her arms around his neck, she smiled. With Cal, she didn't feel uncomfortable. She felt bold. Alive. As if she'd known him forever. “Lesson number one. We get you a couple of changes of clothes and go to my apartment. I'll introduce you to my shower."
Excalibur raised one silvery eyebrow, a skill that she'd never mastered. “Shower?"
"Yeah. A. Wet. Soapy. Naked. Shower."
* * * *
Every nerve ending alive, Gennie sped as fast as she dared to the Wal-Mart superstore while Cal clutched both the door and the dashboard. His expressions fluctuated between the excited terror of a teen on a roller coaster to complete fascination, and she was going well under the speed limit.
His nose touched the window as he watched a work crew building a brand new mini-rise bank. He pointed to the industrial crane and heavy equipment. “What are those machines used for?"
"The cranes lift the beams in place for the different levels of the building.” Amusement bubbled in Gennie's throat. He looked like a boy on his first trip to the playground. “Don't hold me to that, though. I'm in healthcare, not construction."
He balked at the store's doors, moving back to watch the doors open and shut for another couple. Cal's eyes narrowed as he saw the flash of the sensor. “How does it work?” He demanded.
Gennie blew out a breath. She leaned out, catching his hand. “I don't know how the door works. You just walk in.” She tugged him behind and into the store and was immediately jerked to a stop in front of the singing Santa and Frosty display.
Cal pulled out of her grasp, behind a couple of giggling toddlers and their mothers. The children jumped up and down, gyrating along with the out of sync characters belting out pre-recorded holiday carols. Gennie almost shoved her charge into movement again until she noticed the way his gaze fixed on the children, not the ridiculous holiday animations. A different kind of wonder glowed in his eyes, softening the hard lines of his face.
Spinning wildy, one of the children careened into Cal's legs. The boy bounced back, falling into a shocked heap. His mother moved quickly. A round-faced woman with mussed hair pulled back into a sagging ponytail reached out at the same time Cal bent to right the child. Instead of pulling back, the woman smiled at Cal's dishevelled appearance.
Gennie fought the urge to run interference, especially with the light of appreciation as the woman noted the bits of grass in Cal's loose hair. There was no salvaging the grubby reindeer T-shirt and sweatpants.
The woman looked at Gennie with a small laugh as she nodded back at Cal. “Can you believe the trouble they get into? We just bought our first house and my husband is on the roof, staple gun in hand, determined to outdo everyone else's lights. I'm so afraid he's going to fall, that I had to get away for a few minutes."
Gennie laughed at the mental image of Cal doing just that.
Straightening, the woman swung the singing toddler onto her hip. Distracted, she turned to grab another child before that one darted off. “Good luck!” She called over one shoulder almost drowned out by her children's cries of, “Toys! Toys!"
Cal's bemused expression followed the woman. Harried shoppers barrelled past, a couple more women smiled indulgently at him as if their thoughts mirrored the woman's. “What did she mean by that? How do you out-do everyone else's lights?” Suddenly, Gennie wanted to maximise the Christmas experience for Cal. She wanted to be the first to share this with him, to rediscover the innocence of it through h
is unique perspective. He balked only a little, when she grabbed his hand to pull him in the direction of the men's clothing department. “Is it a competition?"
Trust him to figure that one out all on his own. The man had enough testosterone for twenty men. Guiding him through the maze of racks to the wall of blue jeans, Gennie paused to consider his waist size. Her eyes drifted over him. The man was huge. Not his actual waist, but he was over a meter and a half tall. Any shirt she got would have to come from the big and tall section to accommodate his shoulders. Did they even make jeans long enough to cover the tree trunks he walked around on? His thighs were massive and back up to his...
He rested an arm on top of the sturdy display shelf opposite the wall of denim, his dimples flashed in a very male smirk. Her mouth dried as a certain part of his anatomy grew under her scrutiny. His eyes, the most fascinating shade of blue, warmed. The smirk grew to all-out cockiness. “What size am I?"
Gennie choked. She wasn't sure, but by God she'd find out. She got to work searching the shelf, pretending that her body hadn't just turned into one throbbing hormone with just one goal in mind. She tossed several pair of jeans at him so that he had to clutch them, covering up the intriguing bulges that the T-shirt didn't hide. Piling shirts, socks and a belt on top of the pile, she decided that he had to be a jockeys man instead of a tidy-whitie kind of guy. As she pushed him into the dressing room with stern directions, disappointment struck her that she wouldn't see him stripping down.
The dressing room attendant fanned herself and grinned at Gennie. “Now, that's what I want to unwrap for Christmas."
She was spared by her cell phone chiming in her purse. Nick's number flashed on the readout.
"Ho, ho, ho!” His jolly bellow made her smile.
She couldn't resist teasing him. “Hey! You calling me a ho?"
"No, but I want that and my rake back before spring, missy.” The sound of organised chaos blended with his cheerful brotherly banter. “Or I might have to drop something terrible in your stocking."
"Save your threats. I'm not afraid of a little coal, Nick."
An evil chuckle vibrated through the phone. She could practically see his hands rubbing together. “I've got a hundred and fifty head of fat reindeer on the ranch. Who says I'm using coal this year?"
"Ewww!" She wrinkled her nose. “TMI. Waaay too much information. What did you want, Nick? Other than calling to gross me out."
"I'm looking for Merle. Hold on a sec.” Nick paused while Gennie froze. Her eyes tracked possessively back to the men's dressing room. The line muffled and she could hear him yelling something about ribbon and paper. He came back on, a bit breathless. “Anyway, his buddy Agdern—you remember? The old guy in Houston with all the museum stuff? He's trying to get an update on some hush-hush project of theirs."
The phone nearly slipped from her hand. She remembered Agdern. Vividly. Playing knight in her grandfather's basement had always been her favourite pastime. She was more shocked than anyone when Excalibur slipped from the wall under her hand. Worse, she couldn't put the sword back in place. Warm magic had infused her, making her feel powerful. Like one of the knights Uncle Art told her about.
Hours later the magic had burned through her. She'd been so sick and still wouldn't let go of the sword. It had taken two powerful wizards, Merle and Agdern, to separate her from the weapon and seal it away where she couldn't get to it.
"Gennie? Are you there?"
She sucked in a breath. With a shaking hand, she pushed the hair off of her forehead. She had no business dragging Nick into her problems. He was far too busy right now to stop and hunt down her grandfather. Besides, Agdern and Merle were probably out looking for Cal. No, they'd be out looking for a missing sword. Excalibur. “Yes. Uh. Sorry. Bad signal.” She flinched at the lie, knowing Nick probably had an eerie built in fib detector. “I haven't been able to get Merle to answer his cell phone."
"Genevieve!" Cal emerged from the dressing room. Dressed only in a pair of jeans and his own heart-stopping sexuality. He looked around, long grey hair swinging around his sculpted bare shoulders. Finding her, he pinned her with an imperious glare. The wings of his dragon tattoo seemed to flex mid flight as he tugged on the waistband of his jeans. “Look at this! This device is as dangerous as the seatbelt."
The dressing room attendant made a gurgling sound and fanned herself again. Gennie felt like she'd been given a reprieve. Who was she talking to? Cal's storm-filled face and warrior's body consumed her attention. “Nick, “she gasped into the phone. “I've got to go. I've got ... a ... a ... zipper.” She closed the phone one whatever he might have said and blinked up at the dangerously attractive man before her.
"Why would human men wish to castrate themselves with their clothes?” Oblivious to the stares by shoppers, he tugged again on the waistband of a pair of cargo style jeans that managed to not strain over his thighs. His totally ripped abs rippled with each movement. “I swear this thing tried to unman me."
She laid a hand on his arm in an attempt to soothe him. Instead, the combination of warm skin and crisp male hair sent a fresh stab of tingling awareness through her. The heated look he gave let her know the feeling was mutual. As did the evident bulge straining at the offending zipper.
The dimples came out in full force again, mischief and lust, dancing in his eyes as his fingers crept to her waist. “What fastens your clothes, Genevieve?” Barely testing the elastic waistband of her nursing scrub pants, speculation entered his molten gaze. He let go, pulling away before he turned in a circle for inspection, holding his arms out in a courtly manner seen only in movies. “Well, my lady. What do you think?"
His attention focused solely on her, paying no mind to the crowd of female admirers his presence generated. It was like getting a highly erotic preview for an exclusive male dance revue. Every muscle shifted as he turned, his hair sliding over his shoulders in a caress. The inverted triangle of his back tapered into the waist of the cargo pants. Gennie smiled. However he complained about the fit, the jeans bagged on his cute, flat derriere. The small imperfection made him still sexier.
He bent suddenly, capturing her lips in a quick kiss before her over-stimulated mind could lodge a protest. If it had wanted too. He winked, retreating to the dressing room with a roguish grin to dress once more in his ragged Christmas garb. Throwing one last heated look at him before the dressing room door shut, Gennie ‘acquired’ a shopping cart from a distracted shopper Yes, the move was underhanded, but she wasn't about to leave him to the tender mercies of the hungry-eyed women lining up empty handed at the dressing room counter. By the time she put his selections in the buggy, the growling sounds from his stomach pointed out how long ago breakfast had been.
She pushed the buggy to the store café, her own stomach alternated between hollow and cramped with tension. Her nerves remained tight throughout the meal, which consisted of both hamburgers and pizza, that Cal declared ambrosia for the gods. Gennie tried to relax as he pointed out every ornament, commented on each gadget that caught his eye.
Finally, Cal stopped her, his hand on her neck. With her eyes, Gennie followed the finger pointed up to a sprig of green hanging from a balloon and let loose in the store. His lips curved as he pulled her close. “Mistletoe.” His head bent, his breath warm on her lips as he stopped a scant space between them. “I know this tradition.” The air charged every nerve on end as he brushed his mouth over hers. The kiss deepened as Cal tasted her lips. His tongue swept inside her mouth touching hers in an intimate caress that made her want to wrap herself around his warmth forever. Her blood roared in her ears as they separated. The sizzling electricity in his eyes matched the need humming through her body.
Catching her breath, she steered the cart to the shortest line possible, not caring that she had more than twenty items. She couldn't get out of the store fast enough.
* * * *
Inside her tiny apartment, Gennie dropped the bags and stared as Cal inspected her little Charlie Brown po
tted Christmas tree. She'd picked up the scrawny thing several years ago to convince her family that she hadn't sunk deep into a well of depression.
Until the accident, Gennie had not even been aware of how much she'd wanted children. It had been a given. Find a guy. Get married. Have a buttload of kids.
And one incident took it all away.
She shook off the melancholy as Cal circled Charlie the tree.
He kept his hands tight behind his back, shoulders flexing unconsciously as he examined the lightweight bells and glass balls hanging precariously on Charlie's still thin branches.
The man was completely unaware of his appeal. His long silver-grey hair still had bits of leaf and twig trapped. The awful, grungy borrowed T-shirt and sweat pants clung to his magnificent warrior's body. Even his sockless feet stuffed into what had to be a size-too-small athletic shoes were sexy.
Oh, she talked a big talk all right. But now with him in her space, her stomach clenched with sudden uncertainty.
Cal looked up and smiled. The simmering heat in his blue eyes melted what resistance she had. He strolled towards her, hands still clasped behind his back. The borrowed shirt pulled across the planes of his chest. God, she wanted to jump him.
The smile stretched wider, tinged with satisfaction.
Damn him, he knew that her belly quivered. Her panties felt hot and damp, sticking to the scrubs she'd worn for two days straight.
Had she only found him in the garage just last night? It felt like forever that she knew and wanted him. Her inner muscles clenched and released, begging her to fill the space with him.
Cal reached out, trailing the back of one hand down her check. Shivers followed the path down her neck. His fingers slid over her collarbone, gently trailing into the vee of her shirt.
"Genevieve." He caressed her name even as his fingers slipped lower, teasing the bottom of her shirt.
Conjuring Cal Page 5