Master of the Moon

by Angela Knight

  His eyes widened. “Shit.”

  “Yeah.” Diana got in and started the car, then drove across the yard. The car bumped over the curb and back onto the street. She hit the gas and headed for home.

  Llyr, sitting pale and silent, suddenly spoke. “It is not a good idea for mortals to know so much about us, Diana.”

  “I told you, the chief can keep his mouth shut.”

  “Not if someone casts the right spell on him.”

  “Okay, that’s a point,” Diana admitted. “But when I first told him about me, I never expected to encounter any other magical beings. Direkind rarely have any contact with the Mageverse.”

  He nodded reluctantly. “I suppose not.”

  She stole a glance at him. To her hyperacute senses, he didn’t smell healthy. “How are you?”

  “Half blind. My head feels as though someone has driven an iron spike into each eye, and my shoulder feels like raw meat.” His voice dropped. “But I am still far better off than the men who died for me.”

  Diana winced. “I’m sorry about your guards.”

  “I should have protected them. I…”

  “Llyr, who was whose bodyguard?”

  He threw her an impatient look. “They were my guards, but I was their king. It’s my responsibility to protect my people against magical threats.”

  “Isn’t that a little unrealistic? The President of the United States doesn’t expect to protect the Secret Service.”

  “Your president does not have my power.” He turned a brooding gaze out the window. “Yet I allowed my men to be separated and butchered because I was so intent on creating that spell, I didn’t realize what was happening.”

  “What spell?”

  He shrugged. “Something that would have allowed me to sense when the vampire appeared so we could stop her.”

  “Damn, I wish you’d been able to complete that. It would have come in handy.”

  “Yes.” He sucked in a breath as they bounced over a pothole. He must be in serious pain. She only wished she could do something for him.

  “How fast do you guys heal on your own?”

  The car rounded a curve and he hissed as the shoulder belt put pressure on his arm. “I do not know from personal experience, but I’m told it’s fairly quickly. With any luck”—Llyr blew out a breath—“the shoulder should be fine by tomorrow.”

  “It had better, or I’m taking your ass to the hospital,” she told him grimly. “A one-armed king wouldn’t be much good to the Cachamwri.”

  “Let’s hope it does not come to that,” Llyr said. “Going to your hospital would make matters entirely too complicated. Once my powers return, it’s possible I could bespell the mortals into forgetting about me, but I would prefer to avoid the problem altogether.”

  Diana drummed her fingers on the wheel. “When do you think your people will realize something’s wrong and come looking for you?”

  He started to shrug, then froze with a wince. “That depends on whether someone has a vision that I’m in need of help. If that were to happen, they could locate me almost immediately. Unfortunately, my advisors knew I intended to remain in Verdaville for several days while we searched for the vampire, so it could be some time before they start looking.”

  “And in the meantime, I’ve got to keep the vampire from killing you.”

  He sent her an icy look. “I am more than capable of protecting myself.”

  “Thus the ten-man bodyguard team.” She snapped her teeth closed. Great going, Diana. Stomp the man’s ego.

  “I am alive, am I not?” Llyr growled. He immediately looked stricken. She knew he was thinking about the men he’d lost.

  Diana pulled the car into her driveway and pulled as close to the door as she could get before she went to help Llyr.

  By the time she reached the passenger side, however, he’d already opened the door and was levering his way grimly to his feet. His expression was set and white, and from the stiff, too-careful way he moved, she knew he was in a great deal of pain. She reached for his waist, but he warned her off with an icy glare. “I can walk.”

  “You can also fall on your face.”

  “If I do, it’s my affair.”

  She scowled at him in frustration. “You’re being impossible. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, but I don’t particularly care.” He started toward the door, his steps much shorter than his usual confident stride.

  Diana huffed, bit back the half dozen comments on male pigheadedness that leaped to mind, and went to open the door for him. He hobbled past her.

  “It’s a good thing it’s four o’clock in the morning,” she said, trying for a mild joke. “Otherwise it would be all over town tomorrow that the city administrator brought a naked man home.”

  He grunted.

  Okaaay, Diana thought. We’re definitely not in the mood for humor.

  She directed him through the living room and down the hall to her bedroom. Flipping the covers back, she watched him gingerly lower himself onto the mattress. Bruises had begun to bloom across his body like huge purple flowers. The gash in his shoulder had stopped bleeding, but drying blood covered his left side.

  She frowned, looking down at him. “I have got to get you cleaned up. You can’t sleep that way.”

  “I’ll…” He lifted one hand as though about to cast a spell, then lowered it with an expression of disgust. “Still nothing.”

  “So we’ll do it the old-fashioned way.” She went off to gather what she needed.

  Diana returned a few minutes later with a basin of water, a cloth, and some kind of metal box she held tucked under one arm. Llyr suppressed a sigh of resignation, knowing this was probably going to be a painful process, given the state of his battered body. Though frankly, his head was pounding so viciously, a little extra pain would hardly make a difference one way or another.

  “Fortunately, the mayor gave me a first aid kit for Christmas one year,” she said, putting the basin down on a small table beside the bed. “I don’t generally keep medical supplies in the house, since I can heal damn near any wound just by transforming.” With ruthless efficiency, she started tearing clear wrappings off the box.

  Llyr sighed. “The last time I was powerless, my grandmother put me back to rights with one spell.” He shifted on the pillow as Diana flipped open the box and rummaged inside. He had to bite down on his lip to keep the grunt of pain behind his teeth. “I’d dearly like to have her here now.”

  “Well, you’re just going to have to make do with me tonight. Or this morning. Or whatever—ah! Ibuprofen! Just the thing for that headache.” She pulled out a small bottle, uncapped it, and poured some pills into her hand, then handed them over. “Hang tight, handsome. I’ll go get you some water to take those with.”

  Llyr watched her pretty rump roll as she got up and headed for the bathroom. Her cheeks in those tight blue pants were deliciously rounded, seeming to beg for his hands. Despite his pounding headache and the tearing pain in his arm, his cock twitched. He smiled without humor. I must be in better health than I thought, if I can get a cock-stand just watching her cross the room.

  Then again, Diana could probably give a corpse a cock-stand. Particularly this time of year, with her body producing all those potent pheromones.

  Listening to the sound of running water from the bathroom, Llyr bounced the pills in his palm and contemplated the idea of a seduction. Unfortunately, he had a feeling he’d disappoint them both. He felt wretched.

  If she’d even let him get close after the way he’d slapped her down this morning. Llyr grimaced in regret, knowing he should apologize.

  By the time she came out a moment later, his cock had surrendered to both reality and guilt. But when she bent to hand him a goblet of water, the curve of her breasts was enough to make it twitch in interest. She lifted a brow at his sigh. “Just bemoaning my injuries,” Llyr said, his gaze lingering on her breasts.

  “Take the pills.”

  “Human medi
cine.” He snorted. “Any Sidhe child could do better.”

  “Yeah, well, unfortunately we don’t have any Sidhe kids here, so you’re going to have to settle for the pills. You might be surprised. When I’ve got a headache and it’s inconvenient to transform, they work wonders.”

  As he obediently downed them, she dipped the cloth in water and rubbed up a lather with a bar of soap.

  He was forced to pull in a breath when she went to work cleaning away the dirt and blood. Yet despite the sting of the cloth rasping over his injured skin, her touch was so light and deft, he found himself swallowing his protests. True, he was perfectly capable of washing his own hurts—but it was so much more enjoyable when she did it.

  Which reminded him. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  She looked up at him, a dark brow lifted. “For what?”

  “For the way I treated you this morning.”

  She stiffened slightly. “Oh. That.”

  “Yes, that.” Llyr hesitated, trying to think of a way to explain. “What happened to my guards today isn’t really all that unusual for me. I’ve lost four wives and ten children to assassins.”

  Her eyes widened. “My God.”

  “Being someone I care about isn’t a particularly healthy role.”

  She gave him a long, cool stare. “So you’re saying this morning’s brush-off was your way of keeping me safe.”

  He owed her honesty. “And myself, as well. I have grown weary of losing people.”

  Diana fell silent, stroking the cloth over his skin. They fell into a dark silence while he remembered the wives he’d lost. And the children, all his handsome, bright children…

  “My father says there’s nothing a parent fears more than burying a child,” she offered finally.

  Llyr nodded sadly. “Particularly for my kind, for the Sidhe are much less fertile than humans. And to lose so many is particularly painful. Mind you, all my children were adults when they fell to Ansgar’s assassins—the oldest was four hundred years old. But the point is, they were immortal. They should not have died at all.”

  He let his head fall back against the pillow as the memories poured in on him. “Ansgar has a great deal to answer for,” Llyr said softly, as his shoulder and head throbbed in renewed pain, an aching backdrop for his grief. “And one day, I’ll make him pay full measure.”

  It really wasn’t fair, Diana thought. Llyr was obscenely beautiful even when he looked as if he’d gone fifteen rounds with a tyrannosaurus Rex. What was more, the sadness on his handsome face only added to his appeal.

  He lay back against the mound of pillows, his brilliant hair tumbled around his brawny shoulders. She made a mental note to brush it for him; there were leaves and sticks tangled up in it from his flight through the trees.

  Diana had never considered herself much of a nurturer, yet she found it oddly satisfying to tend his injuries. When the water went cool and rust-colored, she returned to the bathroom, emptied the plastic basin, and refilled it with warm, soapy water again.

  Stepping back into the room, she found herself stopping just to look at him. He seemed to be dozing, as though finally worn out by pain and sadness, his athletic body lax against the sheets.

  Frowning, she wondered if she should wake him. She seemed to recall that people with head injuries shouldn’t sleep. And considering the way he’d slammed into that tree, he was virtually guaranteed to have given himself a good concussion.

  She went to sit beside him and cleared her throat. “How’s your head?”

  “Aches.” He didn’t open his eyes. “But your mortal pills do seem to have helped.”

  “What year is it?”

  “Sixteen hundred and four.”

  Oh, hell. “’Fraid not, Majesty. Try 2005.”

  He cracked one eyelid. “Sidhe years, not your calendar. It’s the sixteen hundred and fourth year of my reign.”

  Diana stared at him. “The Sidhe calendar is based on how long you’ve been on the throne?”

  “The Cachamwri Sidhe’s is. Though the calendar of the Morven Sidhe is the same, since my brother took his throne at the same time.”

  Damn. He’d been king sixteen hundred years. “It’s a wonder you’re not even more arrogant than you are.”

  His tone went dry. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Tilting her head, she appraised him. “You seem to be tracking pretty well, assuming you’re right about the date.” Scooting closer, Diana gently probed his head. His eyes drifted shut. She got the distinct impression he enjoyed her careful touch. “No lumps,” she said finally, after a thorough exploration. “That’s a miracle in itself.”

  “I managed to put up a cushion the instant before I hit. Must have been the last of my magic.”

  “I hate to think the shape you’d have been in if you hadn’t. No way in hell would I be capable of treating a head injury like that.” Relieved, she dipped her cloth in the water and went back to washing him off.

  “I don’t know. You’re doing quite well.”

  Meeting his brilliant eyes, Diana felt heat pour into her cheeks. Oh, great, I’m blushing. She ducked her head. “Thanks.”

  Finished cleaning him off, she bandaged the sword wound in his shoulder with a sterile pad and tape, then went on to treat the rest of his cuts and scrapes with a tube of antibiotic gel. He relaxed with a sigh.

  She’d just finished bandaging one of the nastier scratches on one arm when she realized he had an erection. The long, heavy shaft lay over his belly in a rigid curve, thick and flushed dark.

  Diana’s Burning Moon sex drive instantly awoke with a low mental rumble. Damn, that was all she needed.

  This really isn’t the time, she told it. It didn’t seem to care.

  ELEVEN

  “You can’t possibly be turned on,” Diana protested faintly.

  “And yet, the evidence suggests otherwise.” There was dry amusement in Llyr’s tone.

  “It certainly does.” God, she wanted to wrap her hand around his thick, hard shaft, cup those heavy balls in her palm…Diana dragged her eyes away.

  His gaze dropped to her chest. “What do you call that tunic you’re wearing?”

  She glanced down. “It’s a T-shirt.”

  “I like the way it hugs your breasts.” His voice rasped. “Though I don’t particularly care for the wording.”

  Diana grinned. Printed in big white letters across her bust was 25% SWEETHEART—75% BITCH. “It was a gag gift from my brother. He said it’s only fair to warn people. Not that I wear it out in public, since the mayor wouldn’t exactly approve.”

  “Neither do I. You’re not a bitch, Diana.”

  “Oh, I can be. Believe me.”

  “I’m not talking about your wolf form.”

  “That’s not the only one I do, Llyr.” She thought about showing him the Dire Wolf, then decided against it. There was nothing like watching his sex partner turn into a seven-foot monster to give a man a sudden case of impotence.

  A big, warm hand descended on her thigh. “I would like to make love to you,” he said softly. “But I fear not being able to finish what I start.”

  Her libido gave a disappointed growl, but she shushed it and rose to her feet. “I’m pretty wiped out myself. Good thing it’s Friday.” Bending to pick up the basin, she paused. “Actually, Saturday morning.” She shrugged and dropped the washcloth into the water.

  He watched her carry the basin into the bathroom. “What difference does that make?”

  “Means I don’t have to work tomorrow. Most mortals work Monday through Friday. Which means we both get time to recuperate.” Diana emptied the basin down the sink. “Here’s hoping Vampire Bitch takes the weekend off.”

  “Unfortunately, I doubt we’ll be that lucky.”

  “I do, too.” She washed out the basin and rinsed the rag before tossing it into the dirty clothes hamper, promising herself she’d do the laundry later. “Then again, maybe you hurt her and she’ll stay holed up a while.�
�

  “It’s possible. That explosion when our spells collided probably hit her as hard as it did me.”

  Diana, on her way back into the room, stopped in her tracks. “Well, that would explain the holes in the wall. Looked like she was blown right out of your room, across the hall, and into another one next door. Where she evidently killed the occupant.”

  He raked a brawny hand through his hair. “We have got to do something about her. She can’t be allowed to continue this.”

  “We’ll get her.”

  “If she doesn’t get me first.”

  Diana woke to the scent of aroused male. The Burning Moon sizzled through her blood in response, and she opened her eyes.

  Llyr lay next to her, still gloriously naked and deeply asleep, despite an impressive erection.

  An erection that had figured prominently in the hormone-addled dreams she’d enjoyed curled up against his delicious body.

  She rolled onto one elbow and contemplated him. One or the other of them had kicked the covers off during the night, and the flowered top sheet lay wadded at their feet. Diana could look her fill.

  Sunlight poured across the pale contours of the king’s body, gleaming in his golden hair. His cock reared over his belly in a long, smooth curve. Her first impulse was to pounce on it, but mindful of his injuries, she squashed the urge.

  But as she scanned him, Diana was delighted to note the constellation of bruises and scrapes had already disappeared. Carefully, she peeked under the bandage on his shoulder. To her relief, it, too, had faded into a faint pink scar.

  “You really do heal fast,” Diana muttered. “Good thing, too. I’ve got a feeling we’ll be seeing more of Vampire Bitch.”

  Looking up, she checked out the alarm clock standing on her bedside table. It was just after noon; they’d slept the morning away.

  The question is, her libido purred, is Llyr up to a brisk game of erotic Twister with a very horny werewolf?

  “Well, his cock certainly thinks so,” she muttered. “And who am I to argue?”

  She rolled onto her belly beside his hip and contemplated his straining erection. Shooting a wicked glance up his torso at his sleeping face, Diana purred, “Wakey, wakey, Tinkerstud. I want to play with your magic wand.”