“You couldn’t be unsexy if you tried. If there’s even such a word.”
“It’s a word.” She chopped an orange into slices, wielding the knife so skillfully, he found himself wondering what she could do with a sword.
An image popped into his mind: Diana teaching a towheaded little Sidhe boy how to use a wooden practice blade. Except she wouldn’t be fertile with him anyway.
It made no difference. He couldn’t put a werewolf on the throne of the Cachamwri Sidhe. His people would never accept it, assuming his father’s ghost didn’t rise in rage.
But what if Kevir had been a werewolf—resistant to magic and a shape-shifter? Would the boy be alive today?
The thought made Llyr’s heart ache. He might be a grandfather now, a great-grandfather.
Instead of alone.
Unaware of his anguish, Diana had plucked the steaks from the oven and was busily transferring them onto plates. Suddenly she stopped and looked up at him, biting her lip. “Uh, I didn’t fix any veggies.”
“That’s fine.”
“Are you sure? Because I could open a can of corn or something.” She frowned. “If you even want veggies for breakfast.”
“The fruit’s fine.”
“I just don’t like vegetables, I’m afraid.” Carrying their plates, she started toward the table. “I mean, I’m willing to eat ’em deep fried, but otherwise they seem a little bit too much like rabbit food.”
Llyr smiled reluctantly. “And you eat rabbits.”
Diana shot him a guilty look. “Well, there’s an awful lot of them around here. They’re hell on gardens. I just thin the population down a little.”
“Of course,” he said, his mood lightening as he followed her to the table. “I’m sure the local farmers are grateful.”
“And it’s not like they’re people’s pets. Like cats. I never chase cats. Well, hardly ever. And when I do, I let them get away.”
As they sat down, Llyr found the temptation to tease irresistible. “Are you sure? You never take just one little bite?”
“Of course not! That’s disgusting.” She glared at him, honestly insulted.
“Ah. I apologize.”
“Okay, yeah, sometimes I’m tempted, but I always think that maybe there’s some lonely little old lady waiting for Fifi to come home. I just couldn’t do that to her.”
“So you let Fifi go.”
“Every time,” she said firmly.
“Of course.”
“You’re twitting me, aren’t you?”
“I’m afraid I can’t resist you either.”
“Eat your steak, you rotten fairy.”
He dug in and found it delicious. They ate in companionable silence until she said, “You know, I’m considering asking my brother to give me a hand with this mess. I’d feel better if he was here to help make sure Ansgar doesn’t get at you. Thing is, he’s very alpha. I’m afraid you two would not get along.”
“Alpha?” Another obscure mortal term.
“Alpha male,” she explained. “A leader type. He’s the kind of guy who walks into a room, and everybody else instantly wants to either follow him or start a fight. That’s the guys—the girls just want to bang him. So there’s usually a general kicking of the ass until he establishes to everybody’s satisfaction that he’s dominant.”
Llyr glowered over his steak. “He would not be dominant over me.”
She swallowed a bite and nodded. “There you go. You two just would not get along. And I’d spend all my time trying to mediate. So on the one hand, he’d be a great bodyguard, but on the other hand, he’d also be a huge pain in the ass. And I’m not sure which he’d end up being more, so I’m torn.”
Llyr wasn’t. The idea of turning to some strange male shifter for protection struck him as galling. “A better solution would be if I regain my powers and defeat the vampire, forcing her to confess she’s working for my brother. Preferably before someone else is murdered or your FBI decides to arrest you and your police chief.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “But in lieu of that, I’d take my people realizing there’s something wrong and coming for me.”
“Yeah, either would work. Wonder what’s taking them so long?”
“I have no idea,” Llyr said grimly.
The Dowager Queen Oriana swept into the High Council chamber with her Demisidhe servant fluttering at her shoulder, tiny rainbow wings a blur. A dozen Sidhe elders looked up at her entry. She watched varying expressions of dismay, irritation, and impatience cross their faces before every one of them took on a look of polite attention.
Dragon’s Teeth, what whey-livered idiots.
“Have you heard from my grandson?” she demanded, advancing on the council table.
“Aye, Your Highness,” Cradawag said from head seat, his face set in lines of elaborate patience. The officious old boor. “Just this afternoon.”
“Did you tell him I wished to speak to him?”
“Yes, Your Highness, but he is most busy,” Lady Oppida began. “He asked—”
Oriana stiffened. “Did he say he was too busy to speak to his grandmother?”
Oppida and Cradawag exchanged a quick look. “He is working on a very delicate spell, and…”
“I was crafting ‘very delicate spells’ two thousand years before that boy was born, and well he knows it,” Oriana snapped. “If he’s having difficulty with a spell, most likely I can help him with it.”
“But he asked specifically not to be disturbed, Your Highness!” Cradawag protested. “I really don’t think it wise…”
But Oriana had already turned on her heel and swept out the council door. As the guardsman stepped forward to close it behind her, she muttered, “And I really don’t care what you think, you great fool. Dragon’s Teeth, Becan, why does Llyr not fire the lot of those mincing idiots?”
“They did serve his father,” the Demisidhe pointed out, darting along at her shoulder. Cynyr had made Becan her aide centuries ago, back when he first conquered the Morven Sidhe and married her. At the time, she’d wondered if he’d intended the Demisidhe as a spy, but Becan had proven a staunch ally. And, over the centuries since Cynyr’s death, far more.
Not that she’d ever stopped missing the old rogue.
Llyr was a great deal like his grandfather, which was probably why she was so fond of the boy. A warrior at heart, a little arrogant perhaps, but courageous and true along with it, unlike that sneaking brother of his.
All of which were qualities his grandfather had had in abundance. That was why she’d fallen so hard for Cynyr to begin with, never mind that he’d conquered her people. The day that Morven rebel had slain Cynyr had been the blackest in her long life. Save, of course, for Dearg’s death in battle against the Dark Ones.
Dearg. Foolish boy. If only he had not insisted on making Ansgar king of the Morven kingdom. She’d warned him there would be trouble, and she’d been right.
“I don’t like this, Becan,” she said, striding down the jeweled corridor toward her own chamber. “Why has Llyr not contacted me as I requested?”
“Perhaps he is simply busy with his vampire hunt.”
“Or romancing that comely little werewolf. I like that even less. She’s too personable by half. What if he falls in love with her? My grandchildren would be puppies!”
Becan’s rich, masculine laugh rolled in her ears as they entered her chamber. She gestured the door closed. In a blink, he grew to full size—a thin, handsome man with clever dark eyes. It was really too bad she could never wed him, Demisidhe that he was.
“At least they would be able to take care of themselves, Oriana,” he said. “In any battle between a magical assassin and a Direkind shifter, I’d place my bet on the Direkind.”
“Well, that’s true enough.” She sighed. “But still—puppies!”
As she flounced onto a divan, Becan moved to prepare the heated wine she preferred. “In all seriousness,” he told her as he brought her a goblet, “I like not the fact Llyr has
not contacted you. ’Tis not in character.”
She took the heavy gold cup, lifting a brow. “I thought you said he was probably busy with his vampire hunt.”
“And indeed, he may well be.”
“Or Ansgar could be working some evil. That boy always was a sneaking creature. Did I tell you once I caught him tormenting a unicorn foal when he was but a lad? What sort of Sidhe would stoop to that? I told Dearg, but did he listen?”
“Well, he didn’t will Ansgar both kingdoms,” Becan pointed out.
“He couldn’t. Llyr bore Cachamwri’s mark.” She squared her narrow shoulders and put the cup aside with a clink. “Get me my scrying bowl. I’ll feel better once I’ve spoken to my grandson.”
Oriana concentrated on centering herself while Becan filled the ornate bowl with water for her spell. It was normally a simple enough bit of work, but contacting Mortal Earth was always a chancy business, as magic did not work well there.
Becan placed the bowl before her. She looked down into its depths, waiting for its shimmering surface to still. When at last it had gone smooth and flat, she sent her mind reaching out.
And slammed right into a barrier of some kind. She frowned and probed again.
The barrier disappeared so quickly she wondered for a moment if she’d imagined it. Llyr looked up from the bowl, an expression of annoyance on his handsome face. “What now?”
Oriana stiffened, hurt. He’d never addressed her in such a cold tone before. “I beg your pardon! I but wished to see that you were well!”
“Grandmother!” His expression flickered into alarm, then shifted into a warm smile. “I didn’t realize it was you. Excuse me.”
She studied his face in the water for a long moment. “Are you well, grandson?”
“Oh, aye.” He waved a hand. “Just busy with a rather involved enchantment.”
“If you need help, I have some expertise.”
“No! No, that’s fine. I almost have it.”
Oriana gave him a warm smile. “I would be more than happy to assist you, dear boy. I haven’t seen Mortal Earth in centuries. It might be a rather entertaining to see what the humans have got up to. I think I heard something about a moon landing, or some such absurdity…”
“It isn’t a good time, Grandmother.” Llyr’s tone was so chill, she stiffened. As if sensing her hurt, he smiled a trifle tightly. “This vampire I hunt is a dangerous creature. I wouldn’t want to risk you.”
She relaxed, mollified. “As you will, then. But if you change your mind, let me know. I can be there in a blink. Good luck, grandson.” Oriana gestured, shattering the image.
She sat for long minutes afterward, staring down at her own reflection in the bowl.
“Well?” Becan demanded.
“It felt like him. And yet…” She sighed. “Perhaps he is simply romancing his werewolf and doesn’t want an old woman’s interference.”
“That’s certainly possible,” her lover agreed after a pause.
Oriana shook her head. “Puppies!”
Ansgar fell back against his throne and wiped the sweat from his face. Fooling the old bitch had been a remarkably difficult piece of magic. She was much stronger than she looked. He’d thought several times during the conversation that she was going to see right through the spell.
He was running out of time. Sooner or later, they would trip to what he was doing.
Long before then, Llyr had better be dead.
Llyr was naked.
For once, however, he seemed to be completely unaware of Diana.
Bemused, she watched from the door of her living room as the Sidhe slowly circled the room in a catlike crouch, an expression of intense concentration on his face. He’d pushed the furniture against the wall, clearing out a space.
Now he pivoted, bringing both arms up and around in a series of exquisitely controlled punches and blocks. His dragon tattoo seem to writhe as he leaped upward in a scything kick. One long leg kicked out as the Sidhe spun completely around to land lightly in the exact same spot.
A cold snarl of rage on his face, Llyr advanced on his invisible opponent, throwing kicks and punches in blurring sequence before he stopped, pivoted, and started back the other way.
The way he moved reminded her of the martial arts katas she’d seen demonstrated, though the actual fighting style was obviously different. The Sidhe were stronger than humans, and the techniques he used were so intensely controlled and demanding, she doubted a mortal could have used them at all.
Llyr threw himself into another hard, low, spinning kick. Sweat flew off his body as he whirled, and ran in gleaming paths down his torso when he landed. Muscle flowed and worked under his pale skin as his unbound hair whipped around his body.
Diana had never seen anything so intensely male. Or as intensely erotic.
Then, as she watched in hypnotized fascination, she saw movement under the skin of his back. At first she thought it was a shadow, but as it slid around his torso, she realized it was something else altogether. Catching her breath in mingled fear and fascination, Diana stared hard as he pivoted into another blurring sequence of punches and kicks.
There it was again, a flash of blue along one long thigh. The outline of a tail snaked around his calf. Wings flexed across his back, blue shading into green. He whirled again, punching, and the image disappeared.
Llyr stopped pivoting to throw punch after punch into the air, muscles rippling under his pale Sidhe skin.
A shape began coalescing on his arm. She couldn’t quite make it out at first, but as she stared, she could see the colors growing brighter, its outline sharpening. It looked like the dragon tattoo come alive.
Suddenly he froze in place, his bunched arm trembling with effort.
Cachamwri’s mark flexed across his biceps. Then the dragon turned its head and looked at her. Its tail flicked out, wrapping down the length of his arm.
“Llyr!” she gasped.
He swore. The tattoo went flat again. “Dragon’s Teeth, Diana!”
Shit. He’d almost done it, and she’d interrupted. “God, I’m sorry! It’s just—I think I saw Cachamwri. The mark—it looked alive!”
Llyr tilted his head back and dropped onto the couch. His body shone with sweat as if he’d run a marathon in the past ten minutes. He lay there panting. “Yes, it was Cachamwri. He answered. For the first time, I felt him.”
Diana winced. “And I screwed it up. I should have kept my mouth shut.” She hesitated before daring to ask, “Is your magic back, then?”
“No, there’s still some kind of barrier blocking me from reaching into the Mageverse to draw power.” He shook his head. “But I’m linked to Cachamwri through the Dragon’s Mark, and the block doesn’t affect that. If I can only reach him…”
“You should have told me what you were going to try to do,” Diana said. “What if it went bad? I mean, maybe you should have a spotter or something.”
Llyr’s eyes flashed up at her and narrowed. Rising, he started toward her. Offended male menace shimmered off him. “I’m not in the habit of consulting others before I do my duty.”
Her heart started pounding in a kind of erotic dread she didn’t understand. “Well, maybe you’d better get in the habit, particularly given the situation.”
“And what situation is that?”
She considered attempting a diplomatic answer, but she’d never liked attempts to intimidate her. And he was definitely trying to intimidate her. “Your powers being gone.”
Llyr’s eyes narrowed. “You think me powerless?”
She licked her lips and stiffened her spine. “When it comes to your magic, yes.”
A hand snapped out and wrapped around her wrist. With a single hard tug, he jerked her up against his big, sweaty body. His smile was downright feral. “I think you’ll find I’m far from powerless.”
And then his mouth crashed down over hers.
The kiss was hard, hungry, with none of the tender seduction he’d shown her earlier. W
rapping an arm around her waist, Llyr dragged her hard against him as he ate at her lips with teeth and tongue. She gasped and tried to pull back, but he grabbed the back of her head and held her in place. The other hand cupped her backside, canting her hips forward against his suddenly rigid cock.
Diana managed to drag her head back from his rapacious mouth. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He gave her a dark grin. “Actually, I’m getting ready to fuck you.”
FOURTEEN
Something about the way Llyr held her, about the hot gleam in his eyes, about the touch of his hands made eager little flames gather between Diana’s thighs. She was appalled at herself. She should be kicking his fairy butt, not getting turned on. “Stop it,” she growled against his lips.
“I don’t think you want me to,” he whispered back, and started pressing tiny, biting kisses along the line of her jaw. Long fingers caught and cupped her breast, stroking and squeezing. Her nipples peaked.
Diana braced her hands against his chest and pushed, but he refused to release her. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
“The Dragon’s Breath,” he rumbled, voice hot with anticipation.
Alarmed, she lifted her head to meet the burn of his gaze. “What?”
“There’s a price for summoning Cachamwri.” He raked his hands up under the hem of her shirt. Before she could stop him, he whipped it off over her head. “I’m afraid the Dragon God isn’t particularly civilized.”
Llyr reached for her sports bra, wrapped both hands in the tough material, and pulled. It ripped, loud in the quiet of the room.
Mouth dry, heart pounding, Diana stared up at him as he surveyed her breasts with satisfaction. “Very nice.” He lowered his head and took her nipple with hungry lust.
Diana gasped as his tongue danced around the little peak just before his teeth closed in a delicate bite. She was swaying by the time he grabbed the waistband of her shorts and started pushing them down her thighs. Smoothly, Llyr knelt before her, still licking and biting at her breasts as he swept her pants down her legs. “Step out of them,” he ordered, his voice harsh.
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