Kel’s cobalt brows rose. “‘The dragon knight’?”
“That story’ll take longer than yours.”
He contemplated that, then shook his head reluctantly. “Then it’ll have to wait. Arthur told me to report in when I got you here, and we’ve taken too much time as it is. Let’s go.” His long leather coat swinging with every stride, he headed up the corridor.
Nineva admired the width of his shoulders a moment before hurrying in his wake. He had a fluid, catlike stride that made her silently curse his enveloping coat. She’d have really loved to see his ass.
Hello? Dragon.
Dragon I’m supposed to seduce.
Well, there was that. Nineva contemplated the seduction issue a moment, doubtful. She’d never tried to seduce anyone; she’d generally been the seducee. None of her amorous experiences had been particularly memorable anyway, having been more a product of loneliness than real desire. There’d been times she’d have done anything to connect with someone, even if that someone had been a bouncer, biker, or horny businessman. Two affairs and one dubious one-night stand didn’t make for much of a sexual track record. Or bedroom skill, either.
She sighed.
Kel looked back over his shoulder at her. “Problem?”
“Just contemplating my shortcomings.”
He gave her a teasing smile. “That shouldn’t take long—it’s got to be a brief list.”
Her spirits lifted at the warmth in his gaze, and she smiled back. “I guess gallantry is part of the whole Knight of the Round Table gig.”
“Yep.” His gaze warmed further. “But so’s honesty.”
“Oh, you’re good.”
Now his grin went downright suggestive. “So I’m told.”
Before she could come up with another conversational volley, he pushed open a massive wooden door and stood back to let her enter.
“I’m starting to miss the Soviets,” a male voice growled as they walked in. “The nice thing about atheists is they don’t think they’ll go to heaven if they blow up the fucking planet.”
A dozen men and women sat on a dais behind an enormous semicircular table. Its polished walnut front was carved with scenes of knights and ladies—fighting, working spells, drinking from the same grail portrayed in the entry-way statue. Overhead hung a huge chandelier, its crystals shaped like swords. A thick wine red carpet deadened their footsteps as Kel led Nineva to one of the few empty seats in the audience.
She tried not to gape as she stared at the group behind the table. In contrast to their rich surroundings, most of the twelve were dressed casually—in jeans, slacks, and knit or cotton shirts—though one woman wore a brilliant scarlet suit that set off her black hair and pale, flawless skin.
Yet Nineva’s attention was drawn to the bearded, dark-haired man who’d been speaking when they entered. Though well built, he wasn’t the tallest man in the room, nor was he the most handsome, yet something about him was arresting. Oddly, he wore a black T-shirt with an armless and legless knight on the front, along with the words “It’s only a flesh wound!” He looked familiar…
Nineva blinked, finally recognizing him from the statue in the foyer. Leaning over to Kel, she whispered, “King Arthur is a Monty Python fan?”
“Yeah, but for Cachamwri’s sake, don’t get him started on the Parrot Sketch. He’ll segue right into ‘I’m a Lumber-jack.’ I’ve got enough emotional scars without the thought of Arthur in drag.”
Despite his supposed taste for seventies Brit-coms, Arthur’s expression was grim as he turned his attention to a dark-haired man sitting in the front row next to a pretty blonde. “Reece, what kind of progress are you making?”
The man stood and squared his impressive shoulders as if he had bad news he wasn’t looking forward to relating. “Remember that al-Qaeda operative I’d recruited?”
Arthur winced. “They caught him spying for us.”
“No, the Americans captured him.”
“Hell. Tell your CIA buddies to turn him loose.”
“Too late. The terrorists know he was taken. Even if I get him sprung, they’ll assume he’s been turned. He’d be dead in a week.”
“Fuck.” Arthur aimed a glower around the table. “We’ve got to get some traction on this mess, people. We have to infiltrate that crowd.”
The elegant blonde at his elbow spoke up. “But even if we break up al-Qaeda, there are dozens of other nutball groups ready to take its place. Until we can get the extremist mullahs to stop preaching murder as a route to paradise, we’re never going to make any headway.”
Nineva frowned and leaned over to whisper to Kel. “I don’t understand—why don’t they just cast a spell on the mullahs and tell them to cut it out?”
Arthur lifted a dark brow. “Because Merlin told us not to. Is this your fairy princess, Kel?”
Kel rose to his feet. Nineva, after a heartbeat, did the same as he gestured in her direction. “Nineva Morrow, Princess of the Morven Sidhe.”
“Also part-time bartender and magician,” she muttered under her breath, trying not to fidget under the interested gazes leveled her way.
“Did you say you’re a bartender?” Arthur asked, amusement quirking his lips.
“Vampires have very acute hearing,” Kel told her.
Oh, great. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m sort of—in exile.”
Arthur’s faint smile became an outright grin. “Drop the ‘Your Majesty,’ kid. I haven’t been king in centuries.”
“Don’t you believe it,” one of the other men murmured. “Arthur’ll be king until he cocks up his toes.”
Arthur pointedly ignored the smiles that flashed in agreement. “Glad to see your mission was a success, Kel.”
“Not…entirely.” Tersely, he related his rescue of Nineva and the loss of the sword.
His listeners were frowning by the time he finished. “I’d like to know what Grim thinks of this mess. Hey, Grim…”
Magic flared at his elbow, a swirl of sparks that coalesced into a massive leather-bound tome. Without anyone touching it, it opened itself with a thump. “You called for me, Liege of the Magekind?” Its voice was deep, edged in a whispering sound like flipping pages.
“Yeah.” He made a beckoning gesture toward Nineva. “Come over here, kid. Let’s see what Grim can tell us.”
Nineva rose reluctantly and followed Kel toward the dais. “Grim?” she whispered.
“Merlin’s Grimoire. Merlin left him for us as a kind of magical database.”
“Okaaay.” She swallowed as she reached the dais and looked down at the book’s open pages. It was like looking up into a cloudless night sky—utter blackness swirled with stars. The unexpected glimpse of infinity made her head swim, and she blinked.
Then the pages were simply pages, marked with words in a language she could almost read. Yet the sense of magic about them seemed a physical presence, a kind of psychic weight. “Put your hand on me,” the book said in its whispering voice.
Nineva licked her lips and obeyed, then jerked her hand back. Instead of the smooth cool of paper, the page felt like living flesh, warm and yielding. “It’s alive!”
“This one’s quick,” Grim said, amusement edging his voice.
Arthur reached out, caught her wrist, and pressed her palm against the page. “Quit teasing her, Grim.”
“As you will.” With that, magic poured through her, foaming, tingling, tasting metallic. Like copper and blood. “Power,” the book whispered. “She has power. Her goddess bred true in her. She’ll burn so bright…”
Nineva shuddered.
“But is she good or evil?” Arthur’s voice was suddenly cold and unyielding.
“Good, of course. Her father knew his business. She’ll give herself to the fire to save us all.”
“No,” she breathed, as her stomach dropped like a stone. “Please, no.”
“Don’t fear, child. It won’t be so bad as all that.”
“What fire?” Kel sounded alarmed.
&n
bsp; “Yours.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Necessity.”
“You’re usually not this cryptic, Grim. What’s she going to save us from?” Arthur demanded, studying her with narrow-eyed attention.
“The Dark Ones.”
“What?” It was a chorus from everyone in the room, some of the voices outraged, others bewildered.
“What about Merlin’s wards?” the red-suited woman snapped, her dark brows pulling down into a scowl. “They’re supposed to keep those alien bastards out.”
“So they are. Our enemies mean to find a way to shatter them.”
“When are they going to make their move?” one of the men demanded. “How can we stop them?”
“That is not clear. There are many paths forward. But all of them involve this girl and the Sword of Semira.”
“Great,” Arthur growled. “Just great.” He turned to the red-clad woman. “Pass the word. Find out if anyone has had any visions about this…”
“I did,” Nineva said quietly.
Kel’s head whipped toward her. “What did you see?”
She shrugged. “Demonic-looking horned creatures, stepping through a dimensional gate into Times Square.”
“Any indication when?” Arthur demanded.
Nineva frowned, then reluctantly shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Arthur rubbed his forehead as if it ached. “We’d better meet with Llyr about this. He might have some ideas. Anyway, he’ll want to talk to you about this sword.”
Nineva stiffened in panic. At the last moment, she censored her instinctive Hell, no! to “I’d…rather not.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “That was not a request.”
“Sir, the king of the Morven Sidhe murdered my parents. I’ve spent my entire life running from his assassins. I have no intention of delivering myself into another king’s hands now.” Athur’s handsome face went regal with cold rage, but Nineva refused to let her own gaze drop. He wasn’t the only one with royal blood. “If you insist, I’ll have to leave.”
Arthur bared teeth that had lengthened into fangs. “You’re assuming I’ll let you. And under the circumstances, there’s no way in hell.”
Kel wanted to bury his face in his hands and groan as Nineva faced off with Arthur with the same stubborn lack of fear she’d shown him.
“Are you saying I’m your prisoner?” she demanded, her voice as chilly as Arthur’s expression.
From the corner of one eye, Kel saw a force globe form around her hand. He snatched her wrist and used his own magic to snuff it. That was all this needed—for her to throw a fireball at Arthur in front of the most powerful witches in the Mageverse. They’d fry her like a mosquito in a bug zapper. “Forgive her, my lieges. She’s had a difficult day.” He managed a stiff smile and squeezed her hand in warning. “And so have I, since Cachamwri himself instructed me to protect her.” So please don’t force me to protect her from you.
Apparently Arthur recognized the pleading he was trying to convey, because the former high king settled back in his seat with a grunt. For a long moment, he said nothing. “Ansgar was a psychopath, and I hated his ever-loving guts. I cheered when I heard he was dead. Llyr Galatyn, however, is a good king, and he’s proven himself an ally of the Magekind. He’s not his brother, Nineva, and he’s not going to hurt you.”
“With all due respect, I’m a rival for his throne. He can’t afford to do anything else.” A muscle flexed in her delicate jaw.
Arthur went dangerously still. “You planning to lead a coup, Nineva?”
Oh, hell. Kel’s gaze flashed to Nineva’s face as every muscle tensed. He gave her another warning squeeze. Don’t say anything stupid.
“Sir, I mean to stay as far away from the Morven rebels as possible. Anyone who’d help the Dark Ones invade is nobody I want anything to do with.”
“Sorry, kid, I’m not letting you sidestep the question. Do you mean to take Llyr’s throne?”
Nineva raised her chin. “I have no intention of taking it. But if it was offered, I would not refuse.”
Arthur laughed. Kel was relieved to hear genuine amusement in it. “An honest answer. And given that you’re a princess, I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”
Morgana Le Fay spoke up, leaning one scarlet-clad elbow on the table. “Unfortunately, this still doesn’t resolve the problem at hand. Llyr must be informed of the situation. We owe it to him. And in any case, if we’re going to have to fend off a Dark One invasion, we need all the help we can get.”
“Informed, yes,” Kel pointed out. “But that doesn’t mean we have to hand Nineva over—assuming he even asks us to.”
“He will,” Nineva said shortly.
Morgana cocked her dark head. “And what makes you say that?”
Nineva shrugged and drew down the neckline of her T-shirt to reveal the glowing Mark on her breast. “I’m the Last Avatar of the Goddess, the first woman born with Semira’s Mark in fifteen centuries. Many of the Morven Sidhe will see me as their rightful queen. Llyr can’t allow me to go free.”
“And Cachamwri wants you safe,” Kel said impatiently. “Llyr isn’t going to do a damn thing to you, especially if you and this sword of yours are so important in stopping the Dark Ones.”
“One way or the other, I’m going to arrange a meeting with Llyr as soon as possible,” Arthur told her. “I won’t insist you be present, though I would strongly suggest it. Once you meet Llyr, you’ll realize your fears are groundless. In any case, we won’t allow you to be taken prisoner.”
Her face expressionless, she inclined her head. “Thank you, sir.”
Kel had the distinct feeling she wasn’t convinced. He cleared his throat. “In the meantime, my liege, may I have your permission to help Nineva search for the sword?”
“Of course.” Arthur nodded shortly. “I’ll see if I can’t enlist Llyr’s help with that. His resources should shorten the hunt considerably.”
Nineva stirred as if about to protest, but evidently thought better of it. Kel decided he’d better get her out of harm’s way before her control broke. He gave the council a bow. “Then with your permission, I’ll get Nineva settled in. We’ll start our search in the morning.”
“Go. And feed her, will you?” Arthur flicked a look over Nineva’s face. “She’s looking a little pale.”
“I’ll do that.” Kel took her elbow and steered her for the door. She went with the air of a woman making a grateful escape.
As they left the council chambers, he considered and discarded a dozen lectures on how best to deal with Arthur Pendragon and his infamous temper. Though, all things considered, his friend had been rather restrained.
Kel flashed a glance at Nineva’s delicate profile as they started down the corridor. She looked so exhausted, he thought better of the lecture. “Arthur’s right—you do look pale. Any preferences in the food department?”
“Not really.” Then she cast him a cautious look. “What do you have in mind?”
“How about lasagna? You look like you could use the carbs.” Watching her blond brows arch, he grinned. “What, you were expecting barbecued virgin?”
“Of course not,” she said, a little too quickly.
“Good, because I swore off barbecuing virgins centuries ago. They give me hairballs.”
Instead of the laughter he’d expected, Nineva looked away.
“What’s wrong?” Abruptly remembering Grim’s prediction, he cursed. “You think I’m actually going to breathe fire on you.”
“Your own book seems to think so.”
“For once, Grim is dead wrong. There’s no way in hell I’d ever do anything like that.”
“Even to save us from the Dark Ones?”
“Even for that. First off, we don’t do human sacrifices—that’s their nasty little game. But even if we did, I wouldn’t have a damned thing to do with it. I wouldn’t use fire on my worst enemy, much less on you.”
&nbs
p; “Grim said…”
“Grim’s not sure exactly what’s going to happen—you heard him. Seeing the future is a dicey thing at the best of times. People have free will, and they may not choose the route a particular vision suggests.”
She didn’t answer, but her gaze was so bleak, so miserable, that he reached out and caught her chin. Her skin felt deliciously soft and warm under his fingers, but the fear in his eyes made him ache. He hated the thought of being feared by any woman, especially this delicate fairy princess. “How could you think I’d hurt you?”
“I don’t think you’re going to have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” Bending his head, he took that soft, trembling mouth.
He’d intended the kiss as a gesture of comfort more than seduction, a reassurance that he wasn’t the menacing monster she apparently thought.
He wasn’t expecting the desire that lanced through him.
Her lips were just as sweetly arousing, tasting of mint toothpaste and magic, tempting him into pulling her close. Her full breasts pillowed against his chest, teasing him with the promise of how they’d fill his hands. Unable to resist, he tunneled his fingers through the pale blond silk of her hair, enjoying the cool sensuality of it. The thought that she feared him made him feel sick at heart.
Determined to reassure her, he deepened the kiss.
Kel’s lips moved over hers, hot and skilled. His tongue slipped inside her mouth in a slow, suggestive thrust that tasted of magic and dark, wild things. He seemed to surround her with his broad-shouldered strength, his arms powerful around her back, her waist.
It had been a long, long time since she’d been kissed. Even then, it had never felt anything like this. Despite her instinctive wariness of this not-quite-man and his intentions, despite her fear of Grim’s predictions and her own dreams, something about him made her feel safe. Warm.
Alive.
By the time he lifted his head, hers was spinning. Nineva leaned against him and concentrated on breathing. “I didn’t know dragons kissed.”
His wicked mouth tilted upward at the corners. “Dragons do all kinds of things.”
“And very well, too.”
Master of Dragons Page 8