Master of the Moon

by Angela Knight

  Light blazed up, blinding him. Instinctively, he jerked his head away. Rough bark scraped his face.

  When at last the dazzle faded, he found himself looking at the vampire. She smirked at him, one hand propped on her hip, the other holding an illumination spell that cast a cool blue glow over the clearing they stood within. She’d pinned him against a tree. He couldn’t move.

  Her carmine mouth exposed shining fangs as she spoke. “Here’s the deal, baby. Ansgar takes care of your furry girlfriend for me, and I take care of you for him.” Light flared in her right hand, coalescing into a butcher knife. “’Course, you and White Fang won’t enjoy it much—but we sure will.”

  Ansgar’s big fist flashed toward her face, but Diana twisted aside, blocking the blow with an upthrust forearm. Pain blazed in her wrist, but she ignored it, shooting a rabbit punch into his ribs.

  He lifted a brow. “Very nice.” Then he backhanded her with a slap that made her see stars. She danced back, trying to work her way over to the executioner’s block and the axe it held. If she could just get her hands on that weapon…

  Casually, Ansgar grabbed the neck of his velvet tunic and ripped it like paper. The ragged sound of tearing fabric was loud in the heavy stillness of the room. Diana sneered at his massive chest. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

  He smirked, lips stretching across white teeth, his pale eyes burning through the black tangle of his hair. “Yes.”

  And as much as she hated to admit it, he was impressive—even taller and broader than Llyr, so massive as to look just shy of muscle bound. But even more frightening than his sheer size was the terrible anticipation in his gaze.

  Diana backed up and started circling him, trying to get to the axe. Ansgar followed, thick brawn moving like boulders under the pale flesh of his torso. If he got those big hands on her, she was finished. He had too much reach with those long, powerful arms, and he was too damn strong. The axe was the only chance she had.

  If she could get to it.

  Luckily, Diana had grown up sparring with her brother, who was every bit as big as Ansgar. Unfortunately, she also knew Jim London had never gone after her full force, even when they were kids. She’d get no such mercy from the Sidhe king.

  Seeing her chance, she leaped for the block. With a blood-chilling roar, Ansgar charged. Her heart catapulting into her throat, Diana spun aside, lashing out at the side of his knee in a vicious kick.

  But before the blow could land, Ansgar grabbed the back of her jacket and jerked her off her feet. The kick went wide as he hauled her into the air. Instinctively, she threw her arms up and slid right out of the coat, hitting the ground on her ass. She rolled up onto her shoulders to power a kick up at his balls, but he leaped back, ugly malice in his laugh.

  “Nice jacket,” he taunted, holding the coat in the air as she bounced to her feet. Grabbing it between both big hands, he ripped it in two and dropped the pieces on the floor. “I’m looking forward to the shirt.”

  She sneered at him, hoping the ice in her belly didn’t show in her eyes. “Fuck off.” He meant to rape her before he killed her. She couldn’t say she was surprised.

  He laughed and charged again. “Oh, eventually.”

  This time she spun aside and shot a kick into the back of his knee. He went down cursing, only to roll to his feet again in one smooth motion. Dammit, she’d missed. If the blow had landed squarely, it would have shattered the joint.

  Ansgar looked her over, his gaze chill with calculation. “You do know some technique, don’t you?”

  Diana didn’t waste time answering. She had to kill him, that much was obvious. She was probably dead one way or another—she had no delusions that she could get out of the palace without being caught—but at least Llyr and his people would be free.

  Her mind ticked through the lethal strikes she’d learned in the various martial arts classes she’d taken over the years. Unfortunately, she had to get in close to use any of them, and that gave him a chance to use those big hands. Not that she had a choice. She wasn’t going to let him have the perverted pleasure of raping her.

  Diana’s thoughts flicked to Llyr. She just hoped to God he hadn’t tried to go after the vampire, powerless as he was. If she had to die, at least he should survive.

  The knife sliced into his skin in a shallow cut that burned ice cold. Llyr clenched his teeth as the vampire leaned into him, her skin damp with lecherous sweat. She’d stripped him and set up a field to keep them invisible to the mortals who still searched the woods around them. Llyr could hear them calling in the distance.

  Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do to help him. He was alone with his killer.

  “Oh, you’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?” the vampire purred. “That’s good. I like a challenge.”

  Had Ansgar already killed Diana? Probably not. He’d want to play with her a while, like this perverted bitch. Which meant there was still time. Time to call the Dragon God—if only Cachamwri would answer.

  Llyr closed his eyes to block out the vampire’s smirk and sought to still himself. He had to concentrate, block out his fear for Diana and himself, block the pain, block everything but his need for Cachamwri.

  Pain blazed up in his right shoulder, slicing diagonally across his chest. Just deep enough to hurt. Llyr fought to ignore it as he focused all his attention on calling the Dragon God. Cachamwri, he thought in the Old Tongue, you vowed to help the King of the Cachamwri Sidhe in his hour of greatest peril. This witch means to butcher me to feed her lust; my brother will enslave my people and rape my woman.

  Then save them, the Dragon breathed in his thoughts. Deep within himself, Llyr started. Cachamwri had never spoken to him before.

  Evidently, this really was his greatest hour of need.

  Hope rose in his mind, but he tamped it down. Carefully, he answered, Ansgar has stripped me of my magic through treachery. I must call on your strength, Bright One.

  Another red-hot stab of pain almost jerked him from his trance, but he managed to hold on to Cachamwri’s glowing presence.

  “You try my patience, fairy,” the vampire snarled in his ear. “If you’re not going to play, I’ll kill you now and be done with it.”

  She hurts you, the Dragon said. I can feel your pain.

  “Yes!” The word emerged as a shout as a knifepoint scored his nipple.

  The vampire laughed. “That’s better. Oh, much. Now let’s try this again.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Help me! Llyr demanded.

  The dragon’s silence was nerve-wracking played against the backdrop of white-hot pain. You are the scion of a line of heroes, Cachamwri said at last. In the past, I could count on the kings of Cachamwri to act for me in the realm of flesh. But I ask myself if your father’s blood has run thin, given such a son as Ansgar.

  Llyr licked his dry lips. Lend me but a fragment of your power, and I’ll rid my line of him. As to your will, you need only make it known. This time his ferocious concentration was such that the pain of the vampire’s knife didn’t even touch him.

  He could sense the Dragon God’s disapproval. So willing to spill a brother’s blood.

  The judgement stung. Ansgar is no brother of mine. He’s killed my wives and all my children, and he would make slaves of my people.

  The Dragon was silent so long Llyr almost lost hope. Still, I am not sure you are worthy of my Breath, and I do not care to give such power to one who cannot be trusted with it. But as I made a vow to your forefathers. I shall give thee a choice. I shall kill this mad witch and free you, or I shall kill your brother. I will not do both.

  It was all Llyr could do not to cry out in disbelief and despair. If you restore my magic, I can save myself.

  That is not the offer. The Dragon’s mental voice was unyielding. Make your choice, Sidhe king. Live or die.

  Sick horror welled to choke him as he imagined what the next hours would be like. But there was no choice. Then let me die. Save Diana and my people.


  Are you sure, Sidhe king? The witch means to scoop out your heart while you scream.

  He wanted to curse, but he didn’t dare. Cachamwri was the only hope Diana had. My heart is already bespoke, Bright One. My woman and my people have it safe.

  A noble epitaph, Sidhe king. I hope you endure your fate with the same bravado. And the Dragon God was gone, leaving only cold, bitter darkness in his mind.

  Llyr opened his eyes and sneered at the vampire. “What are you waiting for, whore?”

  Rage blazed in the witch’s eyes. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that. I’m going to make you scream.”

  Diana leaped into the air in a scything kick aimed right for the side of Ansgar’s jaw. It was riskier than hell; the kick might break his neck if it landed, but if she missed, she’d be vulnerable.

  He jerked his head back. His hand blurred up. She twisted, but his fingers closed brutally hard over her ankle.

  Ansgar jerked her out of the air so hard her neck whiplashed painfully. Diana yelped.

  “Impressive move,” the Sidhe said. “Stupid, but impressive.”

  Then, with an offhand jerk, he smashed her face first into the granite wall. Pain detonated in her head, and she went limp, stunned.

  Distantly, Diana felt herself slam into the cold stone floor as he dropped her. Cloth ripped away from her legs. Her bra dug into her back as he grabbed it between her breasts and jerked. Weakly, she swung a fist at his nose, but he backhanded her. She saw stars and tasted blood. “Fucker.”

  His looming face grinned down at her. “Yes, thank you, I intend to.”

  Grimly, Diana fought to focus her swimming wits. She damn well wouldn’t just go down like this. She lay still, trying to project stunned submission as she waited for her chance. Not moving felt much too good to her aching, battered body, but she fought the animal instinct to submit and hope he’d be satisfied with raping her. She knew he wouldn’t.

  Ansgar rocked back on his heels to look down at her, his cold gaze appraising her naked body. “Oh, you are lovely,” he said. “Not as busty as I prefer, but rather lithe and charming. Perhaps I won’t kill you after all.”

  A chance. Diana mustered a seductive smile, hoping the calculation didn’t show in her eyes. “Please. You don’t have to hurt me. I can make it good for you.” Blood trickled from her swelling lip.

  Ansgar snorted. “What kind of fool do you think I am?” He reached for her.

  “Are you fool enough to waste the opportunity to have a willing werewolf in her Burning Moon?”

  He hesitated, interest stirring in his eyes. “Burning Moon?”

  Diana licked the blood from her lips with a slow pass of her tongue. She watched excitement flare in his eyes. “Take a deep breath, Ansgar. I know you feel it. No male is immune to the scent of a werewolf female in heat—not even Sidhe. How do you think I had Llyr so enthralled?”

  His pale gaze flicked down her body. “I can think of any number of ways.”

  She forced a smile. “Flattering.”

  Suspicion darkened the heat in his stare. “You fought hard, for a willing woman—or whatever it is you are.”

  Diana shrugged. “No she-wolf yields easily. How else can one be sure a male is worthy?”

  Ansgar sneered. “Oh, I’m more than worthy of you.”

  Not even on your best day. “Prove it.”

  She had him. She could see it in the leap of speculation on his face. The fact she might be trying to play him only made the temptation greater; it wouldn’t even occur to Ansgar she could be a serious threat to him.

  His lips curling into a taunting smile, he reached for her breast. She fought to keep the revulsion from her eyes as he touched her.

  The knife plunged viciously into his side, forcing Llyr to clench his teeth against a scream.

  “Ahhhh,” the vampire purred, her green eyes bright with sick excitement. “That was good. Let’s do that again.”

  He spat in her face.

  Her head snapped back in fury. “Oh, you are a fool!” Slowly, she wiped the spittle away.

  “It was worth it.” Llyr laughed, knowing the mockery would drive her into a frenzy. His only chance now was to goad her into killing him quickly.

  “Bold words. Let’s see if you—”

  Fire! A searing explosion of heat and light detonated in his chest, so white-hot he thought for a moment she’d induced a heart attack.

  Until he felt the vast, shining intelligence invading his mind. What?

  It does burn, I fear. Cachamwri said in his mind. But then, it is the Dragon’s Breath. That was when Llyr recognized the power that poured in behind the pain.

  Magic. He had magic again. Cachamwri had answered his prayer after all.

  I thought you’d decided I wasn’t worthy, he thought, dazed by the sudden onslaught of hope.

  I needed to make sure of you, Cachamwri said. But you were willing to sacrifice yourself for your woman and your people. That is no coward’s act, nor is the love in you a sham. It burns as bright as my power.

  Llyr felt the Dragon fill him, flooding him with strength and magic such as he’d never known in his long life. When the dazzle faded from his eyes, he saw the vampire staring at him, her mouth gaping. “What the hell was that?” she demanded, backing up a pace. “You lit up like a firefly.”

  “No.” Llyr bared his teeth at her. “Like the Dragon’s Breath.”

  The spell blazed out of him in a boiling wave of power, rupturing the enchantment that bound him on its way to her. She screamed and threw up a shield. The blast poured against it, sending sparks bouncing into the night. The vampire yelped as some of them tunneled through to scorch her skin. Llyr jerked away from the tree, grinning in furious pleasure.

  Yet even in his euphoria, he could feel lead weighing his legs. Blood ran hot from the dozen knife wounds scoring his flesh. He gathered the power and sent it swirling through his body. The gouges burned and tingled as they healed.

  The vampire backed away, her eyes wide. “Where did you get all that power?”

  Llyr bared his teeth at her. “From a god.” Quick as thought, he sent his magic to summon a sword from the palace armory. Wary that his powers might disappear again, he drew the first nonmagical blade he found; it wouldn’t vanish no matter what happened. He grinned in sheer ironic pleasure as it appeared in his hand. It was Galatyn the First’s own blade that filled his palm with its massive, welcome weight. But there wasn’t time to find nonmagical armor, so he generated some with a spell.

  The vampire’s gaze flickered as she saw the enchanted plate form around him, but she managed a sneer. “A god. Yeah, right. Big deal, baby—gods die. And so will you.” A red glow surrounded her, leaving her armor behind when it retreated. The knife in her hand became a sword.

  Baring his teeth, Llyr leaped for her, bringing the sword down in a savage two-handed swipe, using his magic to boost his stroke’s power. She brought her blade up to parry, but the force of his blow drove her to one knee. The pleasure of it spread a grin across his face, broad and feral.

  Until her sword burst into a blaze of power that lifted him off his feet and threw him.

  He landed rolling, shaking off the blast as he surged to his feet. She threw up a hand and shot a lightning bolt at the tree next to him.

  A massive rolling crack! split the air. Llyr ducked aside as the tree fell with a thunderous boom. “Missed,” he taunted.

  “I won’t next time.”

  They began to circle, stalking one another, blades lifted. Llyr watched her, calculating the power she was burning. How much had she bought by killing Miller?

  Not enough, he’d wager.

  Llyr dropped his guard to lob a power blast at her with lethal force. She shielded. Sparks showered as the attack hit, but he didn’t even pause, following the strike up with another and still another, hammering at her shield, driving her to retreat. He followed, refusing to let up the pressure, forcing her to use more and still more of her magic.

  “Bastard!”
she screamed, realizing what he was doing.

  “No.” His lip curled. “That would be my brother.”

  Her shield barely held against his next blast. He summoned another, knowing it would be the last. She didn’t have the magic left to block it.

  And the vampire knew it.

  She sank to her knees, her armor vanishing to be replaced by a shimmering gown of virginal white. Green eyes widened in an expression of pleading, the effect heightened by the tears that welled in her eyes. She lifted trembling hands. The sword she held shrank back into a knife, as though she no longer had the power to spend on the bigger blade. “Mercy!” she pleaded.

  Llyr gave her a cynical sneer, the power blast hot in his fingers. “The same mercy you gave me?”

  “It’s not my fault!” she cried. “Ansgar told me he’d kill me if I didn’t take care of you!”

  “The way he made you kill all those men?” Furious, he stalked toward her, adding power to the spell he was readying. “Do I look like a fool?”

  “He…I…” She lost her pleading expression in a snarl. Power exploded from her hands. Apparently she had enough for one more blast after all.

  Llyr blocked it with a summoned shield, then stepped in and swung his sword. She fell, dead without a sound.

  He blew out a breath, relieved, but he knew he didn’t have time for triumph. Ansgar had Diana. Lifting his head, Llyr drew on the power of the god to find Diana’s trail.

  Blood. Magic. And the scent of wolf on the wind. She’d passed this way. With a flick of his wrist, Llyr sent the witch’s body up in magical flames to avoid any questions Diana might not care to answer later.

  Then he started to run, following the sweet, tempting wisp of his lover’s scent. And prayed she still lived.

  Llyr found the spot not a hundred yards farther. The magical traces of Ansgar’s gate still lingered in the air, glowing gently to his Dragon-enhanced eyes. With a flex of his will, he opened a gate of his own, following exactly the path of his brother.

  Then he stepped through.