Master of Swords

by Angela Knight

  “I’ll go with you,” Galahad told him. The two men started threading their way through the crowd.

  Bors had spotted Arthur and was dragging him out of the crowd. Laughing, the group drew back to give them room.

  “That man is potted,” Caroline announced, watching them.

  Lark shot her a look. “So are you.”

  “I’m entitled.”

  Lark looked at Bors, taking in the strain on his face that neither joking nor alcohol could fully relax. “So is he.”

  The knights of the Round Table formed a laughing, clapping semicircle, catcalling and taunting each other. They were the elite warriors of the Magekind, the oldest and most skilled of the vampires.

  Looking at all twelve together, Lark felt almost overwhelmed by the solid weight of legend: Arthur, Lancelot, Galahad, Bors, Gawain, Tristan, Percival, Marrok, Kay, Cador, Lamorak, and Badulf. They weren’t all conventionally handsome—Kay in particular had just a touch of thug to him—but they were all muscular and athletic, radiating a kind of raw masculinity that would make any woman’s libido hum.

  Then, one by one, they stepped to the center of the half-circle and began to dance as the crowd stood back to watch.

  Being men, they turned it into a contest—vying against each other in blurring swordplay and stomping, dazzling footwork, leaping and spinning to the sprightly music of drums, fiddles, and flutes. Some of the single men pulled their shirts off, apparently to ensure the Majae got a good look.

  “I’m hot!” Badulf explained over the catcalls of his brother knights.

  “You certainly are!” a Maja called back.

  He tossed her his shirt. She caught it, grinning like a woman who’d just captured something a lot more interesting than a little sweaty cotton.

  Lark hooted and clapped as Badulf began to dance in a blatant bump and grind.

  “Hell of a show, huh?” Caroline yelled over the crowd noise, appearing at her side with two cups of that deadly Mageverse punch. She handed Lark one and took a drink of her own.

  Lark was just tilting her cup up when Tristan swaggered into the center of the circle, pulling off his shirt. She choked. “Ack! Noooo!” Slapping her free hand over her eyes, she spun around as Caroline hooted at her. “Tell me when it’s over!”

  “Oh, come on, Lark! Tristan’s a stud.”

  “Shut. Up!”

  “Man, look at those abs.”

  “You’re married!”

  “But I’m not blind. Oooo! Nice move.”

  “That’s my great-grandfather you’re lusting after, you perv!”

  “Yeah, but you’ve gotta admit, he’s extreeeemely well-preserved.”

  Lark shuddered. “Just tell me when it’s over.”

  Five interminable minutes later, Caroline, giggling like a hyena, told her it was safe to turn around.

  Arthur had stepped into the center of the group. Lark settled back to watch, sipping her concoction.

  He wasn’t the handsomest of the knights—that was Tristan, much as she hated to admit it—nor was he particularly tall, though he was solidly muscled. But there was something about him that riveted the eye, something he seemed to radiate like his own kind of magic. Looking at him, Lark suddenly saw why his knights were willing to follow him without question, despite his sometimes spectacular temper. He might hold an elected position on the High Council now, but he was still king. And he always would be.

  Then he began to move, slowly at first, a slight smile quirking his dark beard as he rolled his narrow hips. Almost lazily, he whirled Excalibur, first simply by rotating his wrist so the great sword described a glittering circle. Then he tucked his left arm in close and broadened the movement so the blade spun around him in a blur of light. His feet moved faster and faster, heels clicking on the cobblestones. Lark grinned, realizing he was wearing cowboy boots. As the drums beat faster, he segued into more complex sword work, as though fighting imaginary enemies, powerful shoulders flexing under the thin black fabric of his T-shirt.

  “You know, Arthur is really sexy.” Caroline said in her ear, sounding increasingly tipsy after all that lethal punch.

  Lark shook her head. “You really are a perv.”

  “Oh, God, you’re right.” Caroline’s eyes widened in horror. “I’m lusting for King Arthur. Is that, like, blasphemy or something? I’m going to hell, aren’t I?”

  “Hey, Arthur!” Galahad promptly called. “My wife thinks you’re hot!”

  Arthur stopped dancing to throw his head back in a roar of laughter.

  From somewhere in the crowd, Guinevere yelled, “Keep your distance, wench!”

  “Oh, God,” Caroline moaned, covering her face with both hands. “Just kill me now. Please.”

  Lark grinned, watching Arthur walk over to Galahad and slap him on the back as the two laughed. “Don’t sweat it, Caro. I think he’s flattered.”

  She parted her fingers, revealing glittering dark eyes. “I’m going to kill my husband. I’m going to turn him into a frog. Better yet, something without a dick. Do frogs have dicks?”

  Biting her lip to suppress her hoot of laughter, Lark managed, “I have no idea.”

  “Don’t you ‘Now, Caroline’ me!” her friend called across the crowd, apparently reacting to something Galahad had said in their Truebond link. “Keep it up, Kermit, and you’ll be guest of honor on a plate of frog legs.”

  Lark wrinkled her nose. “Ewww.”

  “Dream on!” Caroline shouted, apparently still arguing with her husband.

  Galahad left the line of knights and stalked toward them, a gleam of heated determination in his eyes, a half-smile on his lips. The crowd around them broke into cheers.

  “Yeep!” Caroline retreated, holding out a hand to ward him off. “Keep your distance, Kermie!” She squealed when he pounced, snatching her into his arms. “You put me down right this minute, or I swear you’ll be looking for a froggy wheelchair!”

  “We’ll just see who eats whom, Miss Piggy,” he rumbled, striding away. “I find I have a sudden craving for witch.”

  Lark wasn’t at all surprised when Caroline twined her arms around her husband’s muscular neck and kissed his ear, giggling boozily.

  Grinning, Lark turned to see Gawain step to the center of the circle. His eyes were fixed on hers, so hot and male with sexual demand, she forgot her amusement in a surge of instant heat.

  He swung his sword up in an arc over his head, and as he did, Kel spilled a river of sparks in his wake.

  “Show off!” Arthur shouted.

  Gawain laughed, but he didn’t stop, spinning the sword over his head and around his body. With every move he made, sparks fell over his rocking hips, or the bunch and play of his thighs under his jeans.

  In contrast to the frenetic athleticism the other knights had displayed, Gawain moved almost lazily, forcing the music to slow into a suggestive, rocking beat.

  And his eyes never left hers.

  Lark stared back at him, enthralled by the play of muscle in his arms and shoulders as he spun the sword. The drifting flecks of light illuminated his face, throwing the strong facial bones into stark relief. His mouth parted, and she felt the sheer sexual kick of it all the way to her heart.

  Still rotating the sword, he turned his back, leaving her to stare at the sweeping line formed by broad shoulders and narrow waist. The muscled cheeks of his backside worked as he danced, each rock of his hips reminding her of the sensation of his cock sliding deep into her sex in a long, thick glide. Her nipples peaked and her mouth went dry.

  Slowly, he pivoted to face Lark again. His gaze locked on hers. She gasped at the blatant sexual promise in his eyes.

  “Dammit,” some Maja in the crowd said, “he never looked at me that way!”

  Everyone laughed—except Lark and Gawain. She was too hypnotized by him, by each move and flex of his big body. She barely noticed as the lights of the square began to go out one by one, extinguished by Kel’s magic, until the only illumination came from the slow
ly rotating sword.

  The laughter died to silence as a mood of thick, heavy sensuality descended over the Magekind crowd. Behind Gawain, even the knights had gone still, their attention focused on their chosen partners in the crowd.

  The music swelled to a crescendo as Gawain suddenly thrust the sword over his head. Kel stopped spilling sparks and began to glow like a torch, so bright Lark’s eyes stung.

  Abruptly the light went out, plunging the square into darkness.

  A sound rose, a kind of collective male growl, starkly sexual with hunger. A woman gasped a man’s name. Another woman squealed as her partner grabbed her.

  Lark’s heart was pounding. She blinked hard, trying to clear her dazzled vision.

  By the time her eyes adjusted, Gawain was standing right in front of her, stark hunger in his eyes.

  “Run,” he breathed.

  Without thinking, she obeyed, whirling to push her way through the crowd with him right behind her. Somebody laughed. “In a hurry, Gawain?”

  She ignored the woman and kept going until she shoved her way clear.

  “Run,” he rumbled again.

  Lark flung herself into a sprint, not questioning why, knowing only that her entire body throbbed with erotic heat. Behind her, she heard the swift pad of his running feet. Her nipples drew into tight points as she imagined what he’d do when he caught her.

  And he would catch her.

  The racing thud of his feet grew closer as he gained on her with every step. Her heart began to pound in the hard rhythm of arousal. He’d pounce on her in a moment, just take her down and…

  Lark sensed him grab. Instinctively she veered, grinning at his growled curse as he missed. Shooting through a stone gateway, she fled into the park that lay beyond it. The air smelled sweetly potent with the scent of Mageverse flowers. Banks of pale blossoms nodded in the cool breeze as she ran, and a fountain tinkled somewhere nearby. Hearing the crunch of a footstep right behind her, she darted behind an oak. A big hand flashed past, barely missing her as she ducked. Laughing, she whirled around the tree—

  And ran right into Gawain’s brawny arms. They snapped around her like a trap springing shut, strong and warm.

  His grin at her startled yelp was more than a little predatory. “Dinnertime.”

  “Not quite.” Lark grabbed him around one shoulder, hooked an ankle behind his, and tried to throw him as she’d been taught. It was like trying to toss a marble statue.

  Gawain’s grin only broadened. “You must be joking.”

  The next thing she knew, she was the one on the ground, pinned under his hard strength. Lark gasped, helplessly, impossibly turned on.

  He reared over her and flipped her onto her belly. Something rattled, and Lark felt metal encircle her wrists and click shut.

  “Hey!” She squirmed, but Gawain had already hauled one of her feet up and back. Click. Lark glowered over her shoulder and saw he’d locked one cuff of a set of shackles around her ankle. “Are you chaining me up?”

  Gawain grabbed her left foot and clicked another cuff around it. Chains rattled musically. “Yep.” His eyes glittered at her. “If you’ll recall, I told you I would when you tied me up.”

  Kel must have conjured the bonds for him; he hadn’t had them earlier. Her gaze flicked to the sword, but the dragon had gone stiff and metallic again.

  Gawain grabbed the back of Lark’s T-shirt and pulled. Riiiiiiip.

  “Cut that out!” She tried to kick at him, but with her ankles and wrists bound, she couldn’t move. “You’re not stripping me in public!”

  “Yes….” Snap. Her right bra strap collapsed. “I am.” He pulled again, and her left strap dropped to the grass in front of her eyes.

  We’ll just see about that, buddy. Lark concentrated, trying to dissolve Kel’s cuffs with her magic, but the steel remained stubbornly solid.

  Another series of tugs and ripping fabric, and Gawain calmly pulled off her bra. She thought about conjuring a new one, but a blade of grass stroked over one hard nipple.

  Oh, what the hell. Everybody in Avalon was off getting laid anyhow.

  Riiiiiiiip. Gawain had started work on her jeans.

  “You know, I could make those disappear for you.”

  “But I want to tear them off.” Desire and wicked humor deepened his voice to a rumble of lust. A minute later, he tossed the last scraps of fabric aside.

  And Lark was definitely creaming.

  He turned her over on her back, and she tensed, waiting for his touch. Instead he rose to his feet and reached for the hem of his shirt. As she watched, he pulled it off over his head, revealing the ripple and play of tanned muscle across his broad, powerful chest. Toeing off his running shoes, he reached for the fly of his jeans.

  A long, magnificent erection angled upward under the tough fabric. Lark licked her lips as his zipper hissed. His eyes never left her face as he grabbed his waistband and pulled jeans and boxers down. His cock thrust free, bobbing hungrily as he pushed his pants down his brawny thighs.

  Lark’s heart was pounding like a kettledrum by the time he threw his jeans aside. She swallowed. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

  Gawain sat down on the grass beside her and calmly took off his socks. His green eyes were hot with hunger and pure possessive male satisfaction as he looked over her bound nudity. “Payback.”

  That was what she’d been afraid of. She licked her lips. “What kind of payback?”

  Gawain flipped her across his thighs and lifted one big hand over her ass. He grinned toothily. “What do you think?”

  Lark stared at him, outraged. “You are not going to spank me!”

  “Actually, I am.” His palm smacked down. She jolted against his legs with a yelp born more of astonishment than pain. The swat had been too light to really hurt.

  Another swat, this one stinging. She yowled in earnest. “I’m going to turn you into a rabbit!”

  “Not a frog?” Another meaty slap.

  She tried to kick with her bound feet. “Poetic justice. All you want to do is fuck!”

  “Not so.” A rain of quick smacks hot enough to make her squirm. “I also like to bite.”

  “Ooow! I’m warning you, Bunnicula…”

  “I should have asked Kel for a gag.” Smack!

  “Jerk!”

  “Jerk? Is that the best you can do?” Smack! “No threatening to turn me into rabbit stew?” Smack! “A rabbit fur coat?” Smack! “A rabbit’s foot?” Smack!

  Panting, she managed, “How about a rabbit-shaped vibrator? That way I can shove a D-battery up your…” WHACK! “Oooww!”

  “If anybody’s going to shove anything anywhere, it’s going to be me.” He ran caressing fingertips over her backside, soothing the sting. Lark drew in a quick breath at the sensation. “You know, your ass has turned a really pretty pink. It’s giving me an erection.”

  “What doesn’t give you an erection?”

  “Where you’re concerned, not much.” He ran a hand down her bottom and between her thighs. A finger stroked, probed. She moaned as it slid deep. “Why, you kinky little witch! You’re creaming.”

  “Duh.” Another deep stroke. She laid her cheek against the grass and groaned.

  “I think I’ve made an error in judgment.”

  Oh, God, please don’t stop! “Yeah, you’ve pissed off a witch.”

  “No.” Another delicious stroke. “I chained your legs together.”

  She grinned into the grass. “Dummy.”

  He caught her by one calf and pulled her legs up until he could reach the chain around her ankles. But instead of freeing them both, he only unfastened the right cuff.

  A moment later, he had her left wrist chained to her left ankle. Her jaw dropped in outrage. “You are so not hog-tying me!”

  “Don’t bet on it, Miss Piggy.” He was already repeating the process with her right arm and leg.

  “I’m going to get you for this. I’m plotting my revenge right now!”

  “I r
eally should have asked Kel for that gag.” He turned her over on her back. “Well, at least I know one way to shut you up.”

  She glowered at him, halfway between laughter and arousal. “Only if you want me to bite it off.”

  He pushed her knees apart and settled between her thighs. As he lowered his head toward her deliciously spread sex, he lifted a blond brow. “Want to reconsider that suggestion?”

  Her eyes widened as he swirled his tongue over her clit. “Sir Gawain, I promise I would never, ever bite any—Oh, God!—sensitive parts of your anatomy.” His next long lick had her throwing her head back. Panting, she added, “And I really hope you won’t use those big, sharp teeth on mine!”

  Gawain grinned wickedly as he caught her nipples in both hands. “Would I do that to you?” Tracing the tip of his tongue around her clit in a delicious figure eight, he tugged the captured peaks. The stark pleasure made her squirm, despite the friction of the grass against her well-paddled butt. He drew back, twisting her nipples delicately. Green eyes glittered up at her. “Especially after the way you teased me and tormented me and wouldn’t let me come?”

  “What was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking I wouldn’t do this.” His stiffened tongue thrust up her core in a long, taunting stroke.

  Her spine arched. “Actually, I kind of hoped you would.”

  “Bad girl.” Another delicious, liquid tongue swirl as he teased and stroked her breasts.

  Lark lifted her head and smiled hopefully. “Maybe you should punish me with your cock until I beg for mercy?”

  His head lifted, revealing a truly evil grin. “Now, there’s a thought.”

  One minute his face was between her thighs. The next, he loomed over her, his body covering hers. She blinked up at him as he reached down to aim himself. “You’re fast.”

  He lifted a brow. “Not that fast.”

  He proved it as he slid into her one slow, delicious inch at a time, in a seductive satin glide. “Oh, Merlin’s Beard!”

  “You know…” Another inch. “…he didn’t really have a beard.”

  “Who cares?” She threw her head back. “God!”

  Gawain’s balls rested against her backside now, and she could feel his entire length stuffing her. Slowly, he began to pull out. She writhed against him, pulling helplessly at her bonds.