Wicked Temptation: The Siren Coven (The Excalibur Duet)

by Kim Loraine

  A sigh escapes me at her words, but I know she’s right. Instead of claiming her mouth and rekindling the fire between us, I step away and head into the kitchen. There’s a solitary bottle of white wine sitting unopened in the refrigerator—which, is a life-changing creation. When Tamiel showed me how the kitchen works, that had been my favorite aspect. I pull the cold bottle from the shelf and free the cork. Gwen stands at the entry of the kitchen with her fingers playing at the side of her neck. I know that gesture well. She’s aroused, intrigued, and it’s all for me.

  I watch her as I pour us both a glass of wine, and when I move toward her, she takes one small step back, as though she’s afraid to be too close. Leveling my gaze on her, I say, “Now, tell me about this curse.”

  Gwen

  Tell him about the curse? Lancelot just expects me to fall at his feet and tell him everything that’s happened to me since the last time he saw me. I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s always how it was between us. Except there was far too much he didn’t know about me when we were diving head first into a tumultuous love affair.

  “It’s…complicated.”

  He takes a long drink of his wine and leans against the bar. “I happen to have an abundance of time, Guinevere.”

  “Gwen,” I correct.

  He nods. “Gwen.”

  An involuntary shiver of longing rolls through me. His voice. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, that deep rumble, velvet soft and dark, lights a fire inside me. I stare at the golden liquid in my own wineglass and swallow hard. Liquid courage. That’s what I need. In a few short steps, I walk to the worn oak table and take a seat.

  “You won’t like it,” I say.

  He takes the seat across from me and stares me down. “I already don’t. I never thought I’d see you again. God in Heaven, I promised myself if I ever looked upon your face, I’d curse you to the ends of the earth.”

  I laugh. The sound is bitter and painful, but I can’t help it. Then I down my glass of wine and let the alcohol warm my belly. “Too late.”

  “Why did you leave me? Why did you choose Arthur?” His questions take the air from my lungs like a punch straight to my stomach.

  “Are you insane? You think I chose Arthur? I chose you. I broke his heart because of you. It was you who left me to be discovered and captured. I committed treason for you. Treason. Do you remember the punishment for a crime like that?” My heart is racing at the threat of those vivid memories.

  “Death. But obviously you escaped that fate. Here you are.”

  I shake my head. “If only. That was part of my curse. To die at twenty-seven and be reborn. Every lifetime I was alone, save the few times I found one or both of my sisters. Except for the one where I found you. I thought you might be the one to keep me safe, instead, you abandoned me.”

  His eyes widen and a soft intake of breath betrays his shock. “He…Arthur had you executed as a traitor?”

  Even now I can feel the heat of the pyre my husband had tied me to. The first witch to be burned at the stake. Of course, the stories romanticized the end of our legend. In most cases the writers gave me a reprieve and made Lancelot the great hero, riding in and rescuing me. Maybe if he’d done that, we wouldn’t be here now. Perhaps we’d have truly had our happy ending.

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I close my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath. “Yes. And you were off with Lady Elaine. When I found that you’d absconded with her, that you’d gotten her pregnant and abandoned me—”

  “How did you hear that?”

  “What does it matter? It’s true, isn’t it? Lancelot the virtuous. What a load of rubbish.”

  My visions are never false. The night I made my journey to our secret meeting place and found no trace of him, no gallant knight ready to steal me away from a fate destined to end in my misery, my gift of foresight showed me the truth.

  “Whatever you think of me, you must know I have never lain with another. Only you. Is that why you chose Arthur? Because someone fed you lies and deceived you?”

  No. This can’t be true. I don’t know what he thinks he’ll gain by telling me this. “Lies?” I push back my chair so hard it topples, but I don’t pick it up. Instead, I stride to the kitchen and fill my glass to the brim. “My visions aren’t lies. I saw you with her. Married. Your child growing in her belly.”

  “No!” he shouts, slamming his palm on the table. “I was faithful to you. I would’ve followed you anywhere. You mean to tell me a vision led you to crush my heart? A simple vision?”

  “My visions don’t lie.”

  “Are you so sure? Did you truly have so little faith in me? In us?”

  I can’t do this. “Stop! Enough. There’s no point in drudging up something so painful. We aren’t together. End of story. I can’t look at you another minute if you’re going to continue trying to be the good guy in our tragedy. There is no good guy.”

  “You need to understand one thing, Guinevere. I would never have left if you hadn’t pushed me away in the first place.” He stands and rakes a hand through his thick hair.

  “How? How did I push you away? I wanted everything with you, even if only for a short while before my curse took me.”

  His jaw tightens. “That’s not what you said to me under the hawthorn tree.”

  “I said many things to you under that tree.”

  “But only one of them broke my heart.”

  I don’t understand what he means. “I wanted you.”

  “And you had me. Multiple times if my memory is correct.” He sighs and shakes his head. “You’re right. Now is not the time to reopen old wounds. It’s late and my muscles ache. I haven’t been so active since before I escaped purgatory.”

  He looks weary, face drawn and pale. “How’s your arm?” I ask, stepping a little closer. I know what his answer will be. He’s in pain. I feel it too.

  “Hurts, but that’s not new.”

  “You know, I might not have my magic, but I can sense your pains just by reading the look in your eyes. You’re suffering more than you let on.” My hand goes to the place on my arm where the echoes of his demon scratches ache.

  Swallowing, he clenches his teeth and looks away. “Don’t treat me like you’re my nursemaid. I need rest and I’ll be set to rights tomorrow.”

  “You need a good soak in a hot bath to ease your limbs first.”

  He cocks an eyebrow and smirks. A slight hint of teasing glinting behind tired and pained eyes. “Are you attempting to get me naked?”

  I let out a disbelieving laugh. “No. But I can’t get my magic back if you’re dead from exhaustion. Wait there.”

  He doesn’t argue or follow as I make my way to the kitchen and search the cupboards, laughing to myself when I find the cheese and butter stored there rather than in the refrigerator. I move those to their proper place and grab the herbs I need along with the Epsom salts I’d had the foresight to buy.

  “What is all that?” he asks, eyeing my armload of items.

  “Herbs and salts. To help soothe your body.”

  He frowns. “Witchcraft?”

  “Don’t worry, it won’t shrivel your bollocks or turn your cock useless. That’s not the kind of magic I use.”

  “But you said you don’t have magic.”

  “It’s really just an herbal remedy. Trust me, I need you in working order. There’d be no sense in me doing something to hurt any part of you.”

  My cheeks heat at the thought of his body. The nights we’d spent under the stars still replay in my dreams even though I don’t want them to.

  “Fine, my lady. I’ll wait here until you have finished.”

  He won’t look at me, but there’s a spot of pink on his cheeks and I know his thoughts must’ve drifted, same as mine. I don’t say another word, just walk past him and down the hall. There’s an en-suite attached to the master bedroom and I smile at the sight of the large soaking tub. I’d opted for a shower earlier, but that tub is calling my name. The flat ma
y be small, but the bathroom makes up for what the rest of the space lacks.

  As the hot water fills the tub, I crush the herbs and add them to a bowl of Epsom salts I poured. I mix everything into the water and soon it smells divine. Soothing and perfect.

  The creak of a door catches my attention and I shake my head at the typical behavior of the man. He never could sit still for long.

  “Lance?” I call.

  He doesn’t answer, and a chill runs down my spine. Is someone else here? Standing, I turn off the water and walk into the bedroom to find him sitting on the bed, sleeves rolled up, the demon scratches an angry red and I shove up my own sleeve to see my arm mirrors his.

  “Guinevere,” he says, his voice faint and pained. “I can’t…I can’t see.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lancelot

  My vision is dark. All I can make out are vague shapes and shadows. This has happened before, during the early days of my recovery as the poison worked its way through my system, but I could usually feel it coming on. Not this time. It hit me like a kick from a horse—hard, fast, and unexpected.

  “I’m here,” Guinevere says, her soft words a comfort as I try to force the veil of shadow from my eyes. “Come. Take my hands and I’ll guide you. We need to get you in the water so you can calm your body.”

  “Your hands do nothing to calm my body,” I say, my thoughts drifting of their own accord to the feel of her skin on mine.

  “Charming. Come on, Sir Knight. Your wound looks worse rather than better. Izzy said it’d take time for you to heal. That means you should be resting, not posturing to impress me.”

  A chuckle rumbles in my chest at the idea I’d try to impress her. I have not had to try. Guinevere may have never once said she loved me, but the look in her eyes when they’d catch mine told me the truth. I was special. Until she left. “Can’t have you thinking I’m weak. A knight is only as good as his ability to defend his queen.”

  “Well, you’re basically blind right now, so how good does that make you?”

  She tugs on my hands and I rise, following her with nothing but shadows to guide me. But I know she won’t steer me wrong. As she said, she needs me. The scent of herbs and flowers overtakes me, soothing and invigorating all at the same time. “What’s that smell?”

  “Your bath. It’ll ease you. I promise.” She hesitates, tension radiating off her even though I can’t see her. But she’s still holding my hands, her fingers shaking ever so slightly.

  “What is it?”

  “I…I’ll need to help you into the bath.”

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I suppose you will. Though, truth be told, my vision should return soon. These episodes never last long. They aren’t real. Just a hallucination.”

  She releases my hands and part of me wants to reach out and pull her back. But then her fingers trail across my brow.

  “This has happened before?”

  “It used to happen daily. But like I said, they’re short-lived bouts of blindness. Minor inconvenience.”

  She laughs, the sound making my heart ache. “Minor?”

  “Well, perhaps minor isn’t the right word.” I feel her close the distance between us and I swear I can make out her shape, still shadowed, but somehow lighter. “What are you doing?”

  Her fingers play at the hem of my shirt, gripping the fabric and tugging upward. “These herbs work best when they’re in hot water. I’ll help you into the bath and then leave you be. It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked.”

  Oh, but she hasn’t seen me in far too long. As angry as I am with her for leaving me, my body responds with a primal need to make her mine again. I don’t want her to see how she affects me. “No. I’m not a child. I can undress myself.” I’m sure my words are too harsh, but I am barely holding on to my control as it is. If she puts her hands on my bare chest, I might give in and do something we both aren’t ready for.

  “If you kill yourself trying to get into that bath, I’ll never forgive you.”

  I almost laugh. “I don’t want your forgiveness.”

  “Good. Then I won’t ask for yours for what I’m about to do. Now, off with the shirt and trousers.”

  “Oh, I understand now. Is this all a ploy to see if I still look as fit as I did when we were together? I can assure you, I’m not much changed.”

  The light in my vision is growing, a pinprick in the center, spreading and vanquishing the dark. I can make out her face, blurry but close. She’s grinning.

  “I was hopeful you hadn’t let yourself go. After all, you’re pushing what…a thousand years old?”

  Her beautiful lips are the first thing I see clearly. It takes everything in me not to taste them with my own, feel if she’s really as perfect as I remember. “And you…you’re quite youthful for a dead woman.”

  “Not dead. You can’t be dead if you’ve been reborn.”

  I pull my shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor. Her eyes widen and she allows herself a moment to appreciate my toned body. Oh, no, I’m not going to let her know I can see every expression on her face right now. I’m going to take it all in and relish the hunger in her eyes.

  I almost flinch when she reaches out toward me. I crave her touch. But she pulls back and shakes her head, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. Then, clearing her throat, she says, “Trousers, Lancelot. You can’t experience the full healing power of these herbs if your skin doesn’t touch them.”

  “Lance,” I tell her.

  “What?”

  “I’m Lance, remember?”

  Her cheeks go pink and she touches her fingertips to her lips. Turning away, she gathers a towel and places it on the bench near the bath. Then she sits on the edge of the oval-shaped tub and tests the water. Her hair falls forward, covering her face, but reminding me so much of the girl she’d been when we met.

  I step free of my trousers and underclothes, my cock threatening to rebel and show her exactly what she does to me. I can’t make her help me now that I don’t need her aid. It wouldn’t be fair for her.

  “Throw me the towel, my lady. Then I’ll be fine on my own.”

  Her shoulders stiffen, but she keeps her gaze away. “But your eyes.”

  “Have recovered. I assure you, I can settle myself in the bath.”

  She grabs the white towel and holds it out toward me. “Take care not to fall asleep in the water. I need you here.”

  She needs me. Oh, God but I’ve wanted to hear those words. Unfortunately, they’ve come too late. Hearts aren’t easily mended, and mine is beyond saving.

  Gwen

  I stare at the tea leaves in the bottom of my cup, frowning down at a whole lot of nothing. Even my ability to see fortunes seems gone.

  “Ugh, bloody hell,” I mutter, shoving the mug and saucer away. It’s no use. I can’t force a damn thing.

  “I’m not sure what the tea has done, but you appear mightily cross with that mug.” Lance’s voice rolls over me, a wash of warm honey with the promise of perfection and safety. I haven’t spoken to him since last night, successfully avoiding him all morning and into the afternoon. We’re both performing delicate balancing acts to try and keep ourselves from falling into old habits. It’s hard to be near him and not want him. Lancelot is engraved on my heart as surely as a tattoo. And sure enough, with his teasing tone, he’s softened me once again.

  I slump in my chair and rest my head in my hand. “I can’t even read tea leaves. What use am I?”

  “We’ll get your magic. The angels seem to think I’m the man for this quest.”

  I laugh. “Sure, that’s what Gabriel said, but how? I have no magic. You have no magic. We can’t even pay for our food at the moment.”

  He covers my hand with his and stares into my eyes, the look in his making my chest tight. “I was your champion once, no magic required.”

  Angry or not, he is still the same devoted knight. “I…I have to get ready.”

  A frown furrows his brow. “For
what?”

  “Work. It’s my first day, remember?”

  “Work.” He says it like a dirty word—something unfit for a lady.

  “Yes, Lance. Work. You know that food you like so much? Since Tamiel isn’t here to provide it, and I have no magic, I have to work to get it for us. I explained this already.”

  “And you’re certain this is a safe place for a lady such as yourself?”

  No, not really, but I’m not going to tell him that. “It’ll be fine. My sister Izzy worked there before she met her husband. She managed with no trouble.” I think back on her past experiences and wonder how I’ll fare. Izzy is fiery and strong. She doesn’t put up with anyone giving her shit. Am I cut out for this?

  “If you would have me, I’d accompany you and see you safe, my lady.”

  There’s nothing but propriety in his tone. He really only wants to do his duty as my sworn protector, but Lancelot in a pub would be a disaster. “No. Stay here. Your arm is still healing and I can’t babysit you while I work.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “Babysit?”

  “Mind you. You know, like a child.”

  “A child? Need I remind you how much of a man I am?” His voice holds that deep growl. The one that tells me I’m about to be breathless from his kiss alone.

  I push back my chair and tear my gaze from his. “No. I am well aware. Come along if you must, but stay out of my way and don’t try to interfere.”

  He grins. “As you wish, my lady.”

  I can’t stop thinking about him. As I scrub my body in the shower, I’m assaulted by memories of the two of us bathing together under a waterfall in the moonlight. I ache for his touch, but I know that way lies trouble. Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around myself and grab another to wring the water from my long hair. As I select a pair of tight jeans and a blue V-neck sweater, I’m hit with a wave of longing for the look in Lance’s eyes every time I’d wear this color.

  When I’m finally ready, hair dried and styled into glossy chocolate waves, lips painted red, I make my way into the living room. Lance is seated on the sofa, his back ramrod straight and tense.