He dropped his head and his cheek grazed hers. Almost there.
The sound of a lock disengaging echoed in the room, and the door swung open.
They both turned to look at the man—a wolf gargoyle if Cian’s senses weren’t off from the poison—who ducked beneath the frame to get inside and closed the door behind him.
Someone on the other side engaged the lock.
“Emma? Are you okay? I just heard you were here.”
Cian was on his feet before the other gargoyle took a single step in her direction.
“He’s a friend.” Emma winced and tried to stand, and Cian turned to help her.
“If he hurt you,” the wolf began, glaring at Cian.
“I’m fine, Dillon. Unless you count my legs falling asleep under him.”
Ignoring the newcomer, Cian kept her close. “You could have left me wherever they dropped me.”
“And have to listen to you complain about another head trauma?”
Head trauma? Ah, the concussion.
She shrugged. “The floor was cold.” She didn’t give him a chance to challenge her motivations further before focusing on her friend. “Tell me you can get your brother to let us out of here.”
Cian frowned. “Brother?”
“Dillon’s brother owns the casino we’re in, the Wolf’s Den.”
“Did he catch you counting cards?”
She scoffed. “Counting cards is not illegal. It’s just…frowned upon.”
Dillion snorted at that, then shook his head. “Sorry, Emma. He’s sort of barred me from the penthouse.”
She crossed her arms. “What did you do this time?”
Cian shot a glance first at Emma, then Dillion. “Does she normally sound that scary?”
“Tell me,” she pressed, ignoring Cian.
“It had nothing to do with slipping a human any ambrosia if that’s what you’re thinking.” His shoulders slumped. “It’s my mother.”
Mother, sister, ex-girlfriend and some crazy blackjack dealer he’d seduced a week ago, Cian decided after listening to the guy pour his heart out to Emma for at least fifteen minutes.
He stopped trying to keep track after the last time Emma’s fierce glance promised bodily harm if he tried to interrupt one more time. Apparently Dillon’s problems with females—numerous problems—were more important than the fact that they were still locked up.
And not only was Emma showing little interest in using her magic to get them out of there, but he was as protective of her as ever. Dillon could cry all he wanted, but if he tried to catch another glimpse of Emma’s cleavage, Cian was putting his fist in the wolf’s face.
He didn’t realize his claws had burst through his skin until Emma scowled at him, in particular at the grating sound they made against the chair he sat on.
Shooting Cian a curious look, Dillon nodded toward the door. “I should go. I’ll try to talk to my brother again, but the reward for delivering you to Gareth is enough to tempt even the most loyal, Emma.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He knocked on the door and just before it opened, Cian gave thought to making a move.
“We’d make it down the hall. Maybe,” Emma said, reading his mind in that eerie way of hers. “But we’d never make it past the Korrigans blocking access to the main casino floor.”
“Maybe you’re content to sit and wait for your sorcerer friend to arrive, but I’m not.” The four walls were starting to feel too close, crowding him. He knew it was in his mind, but after being trapped for a century, he didn’t want to spend a minute here longer than he had to.
“What should I do? Pretend to be sick and you’ll hide behind the door and jump out when someone comes to check on me?”
He perked up. “You don’t think they’d be expecting that?”
She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t caught up on much television yet, have you?”
“I fail to see what one has to do with the other. Fine, you want to stay, then undo your spell and I’ll leave you to your fate, sorceress.”
“It would be that easy for you, wouldn’t it?”
Right now the only easy thing to do would be haul her close and kiss her until neither of them could see straight. The thought of leaving her here, leaving her anywhere, made the cat snarl at the back of his mind. He was counting on the spell being reversed to fix that.
She sighed. “It’s more complicated than it seems.”
“Uncomplicate it,” he gritted out.
“I can’t… Wait.” She held up a hand when he started to tell her he was done waiting. “How good are your tracking skills? And don’t give me that arrogant look as though I should just assume you’re a skilled hunter.”
“So I should just tell you that I’m a skilled hunter?”
“But not the best. Only the best can track through Avalon’s barren region.”
He snorted. “It’s not being able to track someone through that region that makes someone the best. It’s catching them.”
“And I suppose you’ve accomplished such a feat,” she mocked.
“Was there ever any doubt?”
At his admission, Emma’s gaze turned calculating, and he instinctively knew she’d set him up. He just didn’t know what for.
“You want to be free of me? Then you’ll help me track my sister before she’s taken to Gareth.”
He burst out laughing, then stopped when Emma didn’t join him.
“You’re serious?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, the determined look on her face saying it all. “I’d sooner pledge my soul to Morgana.”
“Not even she can undo another sorceress’s spell.”
Red slashed across his vision. “I wasn’t wrong about you at all, was I? You truly are a manipulative bitch who doesn’t care who she hurts.”
She flinched, but didn’t back down. “Do we have a deal or not?”
He stalked away from her, whirling back around a moment later. “Do you enjoy playing with peoples’ lives?”
“No more than you enjoyed playing with mine when you refused to release me.”
He glared at her, saying nothing.
“Not so high and mighty now, are we?”
The door across the room opened, and Dillon popped his head inside. “My brother wants to talk to you.”
Cian lowered his voice. “Stay close to me.” He didn’t like being backed into a corner—and Emma had him good and trapped—but leaving without her wasn’t an option.
If it took playing along until a way out of their current situation presented itself, he’d bide his time. Later he could be annoyed with himself for not anticipating such a move on Emma’s part. Right now he needed to stay focused so he could take advantage of any opportunity that presented itself—and Dillon was staring at Emma’s chest again.
The wolf glanced at him, then quickly looked anywhere in the room but at Emma.
“Why is the sorcerer after you to begin with?” Cian asked as they stepped into the hall. Immediately they were flanked by two men in camouflage gear, with two more taking up the rear. “Did you turn him to stone too? Maybe make him fall in love with a troll?”
Emma ignored him. Thankfully Dillon didn’t. “She’s been promised to Gareth.”
Cian stopped, snarling when one of their armed escorts shoved him to get him walking again. “What do you mean promised?” Because it damn well couldn’t mean what he thought it did. His animal half considered Emma his and spell or not the man wasn’t much further behind.
“You been living in a cave, dude?”
“Something like that.” He shot Emma a dark look, but she was too busy staring at the floor.
“They did do something to you, didn’t they?” It was the only thing that explained why she hadn’t used her magic against the men surrounding them. It made sense that a group as organized as their escorts appeared to be would have measures in place to contain powerful magic.
It couldn’t be a handcuff or chain. Something more discr
eet maybe. Although she hadn’t complained back in the room. And why was that? She’d made numerous references to the chain nulling her magic weeks ago.
When the doors at the end of the hall parted and they were ushered inside a room only a little larger than a closet, a wave of uncertainty rolled through him. Only when the doors closed, sealing them inside, did he back up, snarling.
He knew there was a name for the box they rode in, had seen them on television. Being familiar with what it was didn’t stop the cat from rising to the surface.
“He’s fine.”
Hardly, which was why it took him a moment to notice the arrow pointed at his stomach.
Emma stepped between the two closest guards and faced Cian. The box jolted and he growled, searching the ceiling for its weakest point.
“Look at me.” She caught his face between her palms, forcing him to meet her gaze. “We’re safe.”
He watched the words form on her lips. They just didn’t make any sense when his heart felt like it was going to pound straight through his chest.
And then all he knew was sweet softness. Achingly sweet as Emma slanted her mouth across his. Everything but his mate faded into the background, the icy panic freezing his blood replaced by a rush of heat.
Her body pressed up against him, fitting snug, chest to thighs. So snug there was no way she would have missed how hard he was. Her fingers speared the ends of his hair and he groaned into her mouth.
Moments ago he’d been afraid she was going to get hurt if he didn’t keep a grip on his panic. Now he feared she would pull away before he got enough of her. He just didn’t know when that would be.
Emma wasn’t sure if she’d pushed him against the wall to get him farther away from the arrow or so she could lean into him completely.
The longer she stood there, losing her mind to a kiss that started out as a means of distracting him, the more she suspected it was the latter. She would have given anything for another minute of feeling his lips slide across hers, drugging her in slow, possessive degrees.
She vaguely registered the chime of a bell as the elevator doors opened, and she tried to ease back. He curved his palm around her nape, keeping her right where she was. Objecting would mean pulling away and pretending she wanted to stop, and they’d barely gotten started.
Though one more hot stroke of his tongue and she might be done. Right there. In front of the men who’d gone speechless around them, she could collapse in a quivering pile of sheer want.
“Em,” he whispered against her lips, and the equilibrium keeping her on her feet was shot all to hell.
“Really, Emma? A cat?” Dillon scoffed in disgust, then spun around, smashing his fist into the closest guard’s face.
Cian jerked her to the side, knocking one guard off-balance while he nailed the one directly behind her in the jaw.
Something hit the floor. The crossbow. With little room to maneuver, the last guard still standing could only try pushing her out of the way to reach Cian. Light flared between them and he howled, cupping his crotch.
“Go,” Dillon yelled, gripping the guard’s head and yanking it down to meet his knee. He shoved Emma out of the elevator, then delivered a solid kick to the third guy’s stomach and hit the panel.
Catching Cian’s hand, she pulled him into the hall as the doors scrolled closed, leaving them in the penthouse’s marble foyer. Off to the immediate right was a lounge area and beyond that an elaborate dining room. Everything was painted in caramel and deep chocolate browns, the furniture leather and solid looking.
She’d bet Dillon’s brother was a bachelor.
“We need to find the stairs.” They would have to be close to the elevator, wouldn’t they?
Cian left her side, venturing deeper into the penthouse.
“Hey,” she hissed.
A door on the right swung open and she instantly recognized Mr. Crossbow. Cian, having the element of surprise, caught the guy around the neck and tossed him—head first—into the door. Bones crunched on impact.
She didn’t get the chance to see if the guy was still conscious. Cian slammed the door shut, then grabbed her hand, keeping her close as he led her down a hall on the left.
“Looking for a closet to hide in?” she quipped.
“Well, I was thinking about finding a bed to crawl under, but I like your idea better.” He stopped. “Do you hear that?”
A thump echoed from farther down the hall. Cian headed in the same direction.
“You won’t be able to track my sister if we get caught.” Judging by the murderous look he shot her, he didn’t appreciate the reminder.
Guilt swirled in her stomach like curdled milk. As frustrating as he was, she hated having to force him to help her. She’d almost told him the truth downstairs, but if he knew her sister was the one who’d cursed him, he might decide to let Gareth have them, at least until he saw reason. By then both her and Elena’s fates could be sealed.
Right now the gargoyle was her best shot at getting to Elena, and whether he liked it or not he needed her too. Another thump, followed by a grunt.
The room opened up ahead of them and a cage, like something from an ultimate fighting match, dominated the center of the room. Two men—one with the same red dragon tattoo as Cian’s on his back—were locked together, angling for a hold that would take the other to the floor.
Cian released her hand and strolled into the room like he owned the place.
A century in stone really had caused some brain damage.
The guy with the tattoo noticed them first. He frowned, and the slip in concentration cost him. He went down hard, his opponent wrapping his legs around him like a human pretzel.
Cian stopped and tucked his hands in his pockets. Giving up on trying to blend into the background, Emma joined him in time to see the pinned guy get his arm free and do some kind of move she had to tip her head to follow.
His opponent tapped his shoulder and the pair parted.
Hopping out of the ring, his mouth split into a wide grin. “Cian.” He slapped him on the back in greeting. “I didn’t know you’d been freed. Man, it is great to see you.”
Maybe things were finally looking up. If this guy knew Cian, maybe he stood a chance of talking Dillon’s brother into releasing them.
The guy fixed his gaze on Emma and his grin widened. “Tell me you’re not with the cat and I’ll lay my heart out right this second.”
She didn’t get the chance to respond before Cian stepped close, the low growl of warning unmistakable.
He laughed. “So it’s like that, is it? Easy, friend, I have no interest in tempting your female.” He winked at Emma before motioning them to the bar tucked near the window offering a panoramic view of the Strip. “Tell me you caught up with the sorceress bitch that left you in stone.”
She felt Cian’s glance at her, and her cheeks heated.
“Never mind.” He handed her and Cian a shot glass. “So what are you doing in Vegas?” He paused, glass halfway to his lips. “No one told me you were on your way up actually.” He glanced back the way she and Cian had come. “Vincent?”
Emma winced. “If he’s about six-foot, blond and wicked with a crossbow, he’s catching a catnap in the bathroom.”
“Why…” He turned the full impact of those wolf eyes on her as though sizing her up for the first time. “Your name isn’t Emma, is it?”
She nodded. “And you’re Dillon’s brother, Mac.”
“Shit. And you’re the gargoyle who was brought in with her?” He directed the last part to Cian. “What, tangling with a sorceress wasn’t enough for you, you had to go and provoke a sorcerer by taking his intended as a mate?” He rubbed a hand down his face. “How did you two wind up here alone anyway?”
“We were looking for a closet actually.”
Cian snorted and Mac gave her a strange look. “Forget I asked. You can’t stay here though.”
Footsteps echoed down the hall, and they turned as another joined them. �
�You threaten to feed some of your people to Morgana’s trolls again? They’re all running around…”
The newcomer stopped when he spotted them.
Mac grinned. “Yeah, Lucan. It’s him.”
Tall, blond and with eyes so dark they were almost entirely black, he greeted Cian with the same enthusiasm as Mac had.
Emma cocked her head. “Lucan? As in the wraith who marked Kennedy?”
Like the gargoyle clans, the former Knights of the Round Table had also been punished by Rhiannon. Even those most loyal to Arthur hadn’t escaped the goddess’s wrath. She’d permanently bound them to her, hiring them out to the highest bidder for engagements that usually involved assassinating other immortals.
Kennedy had mentioned that ignoring or prolonging the completion of a job literally drove a wraith insane. It was only a matter of time before the unspeakable pain they suffered for defying the goddess turned into a vicious bloodlust that eventually overtook them, consuming them until they completed their assignment.
As if that wasn’t enough, they were forced to drink blood to survive, and the venom in their phantom claws made even the most fearless immortal nervous to be in the same room with them.
Cian arched a brow. “I left you alone with Sorcha and Kennedy for an hour.”
She shrugged. “Girls talk. She doesn’t hold it against you, you know.” She doubted passing that along would ease the guilt she’d momentarily glimpsed in the former knight’s eyes.
“Tristan still does.”
“Give him some time.” Cian turned back to Mac. “What did you mean about not staying here?”
Mac shot him an apologetic look and motioned for them to follow. “I mean some of Gareth’s pals are on their way to get her. My team was just the middleman.”
“They might have my sister, Elena, with them.”
Mac shook his head. “I don’t think so. My contact mentioned that his group was splitting up and only he and two others were coming for you.”
Cian frowned, looking at Emma. “Why would this sorcerer only send three men to collect you?”
“He’s arrogant?” she offered, though that wasn’t the whole truth.
Mac ran his fingers along the top edge of a painting. “Admitting I released you won’t be good for business.” He shoved the key into the wall and another set of doors scrolled open to reveal another elevator. “You get them out of here and I’ll deal with Gareth’s people.”
Primal Pleasure: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3 Page 10