by Kim Loraine
"But now?"
"She's dead. She's gone and we don't have to worry about her."
But we do have to worry about Morgan. I just can't tell her that. I stroke her hair and press a kiss to the crown of her head. "Sleep now, my Gwen. We've got all the time in the world."
She laughs. "Except for that pesky apocalypse we're tasked to stop."
"Yes, except for that. But it will still be happening in a few hours. Right now, can we just be here? You and I in this bed together. Nothing looming, no fears. A knight and his queen."
"No." That one word sends ice through my veins.
"What?"
"No. I've told you before, I'm not a queen. We can be here together, but not as a knight and queen. We are a man and woman. Lance and Gwen. Lovers with no titles other than that."
I want to kiss her and tell her how I've longed for this moment, but I don't. I still have to tread carefully with this woman. Her life has been fraught with pain and betrayal. The feel of her nestled against me has my eyes heavy with the need for sleep, and soon I drift through the haze of a dream.
No. Not a dream. This is anything but a dream. The world around me fades to shades of gray, Gwen disappearing and a forest taking shape around me rather than the comfort of a bedroom. Purgatory. I can't possibly be back here.
"You're looking well, Lancelot. Better than I thought you would. Less...tense." Morgan's rich voice slithers over me, a serpent ready to strike, but I can't see her.
"Take me back. Take me to her."
Her laugh is dark and deadly. "Not so fast. Did you really think you'd get a happy ending? We made a deal, you and I."
No. No. No. I can't lose Gwen again. "You took my freedom and imprisoned me. We have no deal."
"Oh, my gallant knight, so righteous. You have to be more careful when making bargains with demons. I gave you what you wanted. Your heart and mind were cleared of Guinevere. I had to keep my prize safe until I needed you."
Demons? "You're a witch, not a demon."
She appears before me, her tall, thin frame clad in a tightly fitted gown of deep green. Morgan would've been beautiful if not for her now glowing red irises.
"I've lived a long time, amassed great power, and the demon who gave me the gift of his blood had faith in me. I'll never go back to being a paltry little witch again." She presses her fingertips to the glowing pendant which hangs between her breasts, a smile curling her lips. "Now, time for a little payback."
In an instant, she's next to me, her clawed hands gripping my forearm. "Release me," I say, reaching for Excalibur but finding my hand empty.
She tuts. "Forget something? Your sword can't help you now."
Her claw slices through my wrist and in one smooth movement, she slashes her own skin and presses our flesh together. The blood burns as it mixes with mine and she groans. "What are you doing?" I tug on her in an attempt to free myself, but she holds me fast, her demonic strength giving me no chance at escape.
"You are mine, Lancelot. Do what you will with your whore of a witch, but know that with every passing day my blood grows stronger inside you. I control your heart. You'll be by my side before this is over and it will be my name on your lips as you take your pleasure."
I wake with a gasp, my body on fire. My beautiful Gwen sleeps next to me, her soft breaths a comfort. Pulling her close, I work to control the pain coursing through me, remnants of the nightmare, nothing more. I tell myself this over and over as I breathe deeply and surround myself with the scent of my love.
But still, I can't help myself as I brush my fingers over my arm. A chill covers my skin at the feel of a thin puckered scar in the exact spot Morgan melded our blood, but the worst part is the discomfort is accompanied by an unwanted rush of arousal.
Gwen
I wake with the scent of sulphur in my nose, a strange and unnerving feeling settling over me. The last time I smelled this we were attacked by demons. I reach out for my knight but find cold sheets instead. Apprehension grips my chest. Has something happened?
A clatter from the bathroom has my stomach churning. “Lance?” I call. He doesn’t answer. Pulling every ounce of magic I possess into myself, I ready a paltry defensive spell. I don’t even know if it will work, but I can’t face a demon without some sort of protection.
My legs shake as I stand, the fear of what I’ll find on the other side of the door making my heart hammer against my ribs. The door isn’t closed completely, a sliver of golden light coming through and the sulphur smell getting stronger with every step I take. “Lancelot,” I say again, this time stronger.
A soft groan is my only answer, and now I’m really worried. I push open the door slightly and find my handsome knight, his hand wrapped around his very erect cock. I watch, hidden by the door, and feeling very much like a naughty voyeur. His eyes are closed as he moves back and forth over his length, soft grunts leaving him every time he reaches his crown. “Guinevere,” he whispers and I almost gasp, worried I’ve been caught staring.
Then he begins fucking his fist, hips pumping, muscles bunching in his abdomen. He takes his full bottom lip between his teeth and his breaths come faster. “Fuck.” His guttural groan has me clenching my thighs as desire pools between them. And then his body jerks, rope after rope of his pleasure jets from him and onto the towel he draped over the counter.
The door creaks as I inadvertently press my palm against the wood and Lancelot’s head jerks in my direction. I fall back a step when his eyes lock with mine. Eyes that aren’t the beautiful blue I’ve memorized, but glow a strange rust color.
What the fuck? “Lance?”
He closes his eyes and when he opens them, they’re the blue I’m used to seeing. I must be hallucinating. Clearing his throat, he glances down and then back at me. “I’m…you weren’t supposed to see that.”
His cheeks are slightly pink and his dick is still jutting out proudly. “You know, I could’ve helped you with your little problem if you’d asked.”
“Little?” He arches an eyebrow and smirks. “Interesting choice of words, my lady.”
“Okay, so maybe not little, but still…why would you come in here to take care of yourself when I was right there…ready for you?” Just the thought of him sinking inside me again makes my nipples harden.
“It’s too soon for me to take you again. I’ll hurt you.”
He’s right. My body might cry out for his, but I was a virgin in this life and the soreness between my legs proves his point. “There are other things I could do for you.” I step closer. “Things I could still do for you.”
He shifts and when my finger brushes the taut ridges of his abdominals, his breath comes out in a tight groan. “Guinevere…”
I kiss him then, the strange shade of his eyes a distant memory as I give myself over to our physical connection. The scent of sulphur still lingers, but I want him more than I want to figure anything else out. The air around us feels heavy with arousal and everything is colored by my need for him. I have a moment of panic, a sense of clarity that this isn’t normal, but then his fingers slide down my belly until they play between my legs.
“I want you,” he whispers. “I want you all the time. It never stopped. The wanting. God help me, Gwen, I fantasized about you even when I couldn’t remember you.”
The unbridled desire in his voice has me aching for him. I have to taste him. I slide to my knees and wrap my hand around his pulsing shaft. He shouldn’t be so hard after already spilling his orgasm all over the towel, but he is. He’s in need of me and I can provide relief. His long fingers thread in my hair, gripping a little too tightly but sending a wave of crushing desire through me all at the same time.
“Yes, take me in your mouth.” His words are a mixed demand and plea.
I lick his crown, tasting the salt of his earlier orgasm and he shudders. Everything below my waist tightens at the sound he makes. It’s a pained groan, a desperate sound begging for more, and I want to give it to him. His hand grips me tighter a
nd he thrusts his hips forward, pushing the blunt head of his cock between my lips.
The length of him is almost too much, but I wrap my hand around his base and stroke in time with my movements. I take him as deep as I can, moaning around his width.
“Oh, do that again,” he says, and I do. I give in to the wanton in me, the woman who cares more about his pleasure than my next breath.
His cock pulses in my mouth, balls tightening as I cup them. He’s close and I want every drop he has to give me. With a swirl of my tongue and a light scrape of my teeth over the sensitive head, he shudders and hot jets of his release fill my mouth.
I swallow him down and get to my feet on shaky legs. “There we are,” I say, a grin spreading as he takes in long slow breaths.
“That’s certainly one way to help me manage my lust.”
“Oh, there are many ways. So many ways.”
He runs his large palms over my arms and stares at me with an un-nameable emotion. I see that strange rust color in his irises and can’t help but frown. “What is it?” he asks.
“Your eyes. And I swear I smell sulphur. Can’t you smell it?”
The instant the words leave my mouth he tenses, then steps back, his hands leave my skin as though I’ve burned him. “No.”
His answer is so soft I can barely hear it, but I don’t understand why he is so upset. “Lance?”
“I’m sorry. I just…need a moment.”
“A moment?” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ve just sucked you off and made your damn toes curl, now you need a moment?”
“Don’t. This is a lot to take in. I finally have you and I’m terrified something is going to take you away.”
I can’t remind him of the truth, that he and I won’t end up together. He will leave me and I will marry Brooks. That’s what my visions tell me. “I spoke to Helena and Izzy.”
He frowns. “And?”
“They reminded me that I can’t live my life like I know the future.”
“But you think you do.”
“Because I absolutely know what’s going to happen. My visions aren’t wrong.”
“Except for the one that made you leave me,” he reminds me.
Closing my eyes, I take a long breath. “Except for that one.”
“But they were right. If I let myself, I’ll miss out on life because I’m hiding from something I can’t stop.”
“So, what do you choose?”
“Us. I choose us for as long as we have together.”
He relaxes and pulls me into his arms. “I’ll do everything I can to ensure we have forever.”
Chapter Twenty
Brooks
I’ve lost Gwen. She’s with him right now. When I knocked on her door late this morning and got no answer, I made the mistake of peering inside the room. The two of them were fast asleep, tangled in each other’s arms and I saw red. So, she’s made her choice and I failed to protect her from him.
My phone rings as I walk the perimeter of the house. I needed fresh air and separation. Answering without glancing at the screen, I bark a sharp, “Hello.”
“You have to get her out of the house.” Rachel’s urgent tone has the hairs standing on the back of my neck.
“What are you talking about?”
“She has to leave. She has to leave now. They’re coming for her.” The woman’s voice is tight with panic.
“Who?”
“The demons. Something breached our wards. I felt it this morning. Somehow a demon got through.”
I drop the phone and run inside, taking the stairs two at a time. Her room is empty when I burst through the door, the lingering scent of sulphur marking me nervous. All I can think is that she’s been taken. A demon got in and stole her away.
“Gwen!” I shout, running down the hallway, then kicking open Lancelot’s door. Nothing. No one. “Gwen!”
The house is silent, a heavy stillness settling over everything. Have I really lost her? She wouldn’t have left. The mission is too important.
Then I hear them. Soft voices, light giggles from her. I rush downstairs, following the sound and find the two of them in the sunroom, her bare feet on his lap. Unreasonable jealousy rushes through me at the sight.
Lancelot leans close and murmurs something in her ear, then he pulls her hand to his lips and presses soft kisses to her knuckles.
“So, you’ve made your choice?” I ask, not caring that I’m interrupting them yet again.
Lance at least does me the kindness of putting slight distance between them, but he’s pleased with himself. That much is clear by his expression.
“Brooks...I—” she starts, but I hold up a hand.
“Stop. We don’t have time for this. Rachel just called. There’s a demon in the house somewhere. It breached the wards.”
She stiffens. “What? No. We would know.”
“Don’t you smell the sulphur?” I ask.
She bites her lip. Oh, she did smell it. I can tell by the way she casts her gaze up toward where her bedroom is. “I did. This morning.” Lance looks at her with a furrowed brow. “While you were in the bathroom, Lance.” Her cheeks turn bright red and I want to punch him in the damned throat.
His face pales and he stands suddenly, his hand reaching for the invisible sword at his belt. “They’re here.”
Apprehension curls around my heart, the pressure and tension of possible conflict like a vise. “Where?”
He juts his chin toward the field, visible from the wide windows of the sunroom. “Just over that ridge.”
“How on Earth can you sense them?” Gwen asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s Excalibur? Or my demon scar?”
I cock an eyebrow. “You were marked and you didn’t die?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” He looks uneasy. “I don’t really know how, but I can sense them.” He’s lying.
Calling on all my grace, I pull power into my hands as Gwen stands and Lance readies his sword. Then, we open the back door and step out onto the picturesque grounds.
Three figures appear over the crest of the hill, dressed in black—neat and tidy as though they were coming for Sunday lunch.
“So, the three of you have found a way to make it work?” Kit asks, a teasing tone in his voice. His eyes are a dull red, power diminished by the light of the sun. “I didn’t take you for a cuckold, Nephilim.”
I bristle at his insinuation, but this is what demons do. They try to goad and poke and prod until their adversary loses focus. “It’s rather fun. You should try it. I’m sure one of your friends there would let you watch.”
His eyes flash. “Perhaps I’ll take your place.”
The thought of him being near enough Gwen to touch her makes my skin crawl. “You can try. You’ll fail.”
The demon grins, closing his eyes and taking a long breath. “From the smell of things, you have failed as well. She’s got Lancelot all over her…inside her. Perhaps history doesn’t always repeat itself.”
“What are you on about?” Gwen asks, cocking one hip.
“Don’t you recognize him?” Kit locks his gaze on Gwen and takes a step forward. The movement has Lancelot putting himself between the demon and Gwen before I can intervene.
Kit’s eyes widen and he backs away. He’s afraid of Excalibur.
“It is interesting,” he muses.
Gwen sighs. “What?”
“That this sword wouldn’t call to you, Brooks. After all…you’re the Pendragon.”
My heart lurches. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, come off it. You have to know. Why else would you put yourself in this predicament? Arthur’s soul…reincarnated into a Nephilim…doing God’s work. Oh, it’s rather poetic, don’t you think? The spoiled king and his faithless knight and queen. All of you struggling with your power. All of you weakened by the others.”
Gwen’s soft gasp tells me it’s the truth. As soon as Kit said the words I understood. My father telling me we were fated,
his insistence that I be the one to aid Gwen, to keep her from Lancelot. All of it comes to one blindingly painful realization. The three of us are destined for heartache.
“Gabriel would have said—” Lance begins, but I rush forward, grabbing Kit by the arm, reckless and angry.
“You underestimate my power, demon.” My angelic grace flows through my hands and up his arm. The veins under his skin glow and he screams. Smoke rises from his flesh as I burn him alive.
Still, through gritted teeth, the demon throws out one final barb. “Morgan says she’ll see you soon, Lance.” The words are strangled and tight with pain, but I feel the tension snap into place behind me.
The other two demons vanish, leaving nothing but scorched grass on the hill, as I take Kit to his knees and send him back to Hell where he belongs. My breath comes in harsh gasps long after he’s gone.
“Is he...” Gwen says but doesn’t finish her question.
I shake my head and let out a long breath as I turn to her. “He’ll be back. I don’t have the power to end him permanently.”
“I did. You should’ve let me take him down with Excalibur.” Lancelot’s tone is harsh and frustrated.
“I intervened because you played right into his hand. He had you distracted.” Dragging a hand over my jaw, I let Kit’s last words roll through my mind. “What did he mean, Morgan will see you soon?”
Lancelot won’t meet my gaze. He shakes his head and starts back toward the house. “We need to rework the wards. When will the coven return to the house?”
The two of us follow after him, unease and discord growing heavy between us. Lancelot tries to open the door, but the wood holds fast. It’s not locked. I have the key. He pushes on the door, chest heaving, frustration rolling off him in waves.
“Lancelot.” Gwen’s voice is hard and commanding. She’s the one keeping him out of the house. She’s using her magic. Part of me thrills at the knowledge she’s growing stronger. “What are you keeping from me?”