TheKingsLady

by Shannan Albright

  So wrong on too many levels to count!

  She huffed out a breath, concentrating firmly on her irritation and not her body’s reaction to this man. “Now, where am I and how do I get the hell out of here?”

  “You don’t,” Arthur stated with a simple shrug of one massive shoulder.

  Gwen gritted her teeth, concentrated on her breathing and for a few seconds, her entire focus narrowed to the inhale, exhale once, inhale, exhale, twice, and then a third before she felt the calm settle on her shoulders. “You can’t hold me here. I want to go home. Now!”

  Those dark-brown eyes sparked, a hard glint warning her she treaded on dangerous ground. “Make no mistake, I would love nothing more than have you out of here. It’s just not going to happen. Not right now and not until you are no longer in Vance’s cross hairs. So get used to the idea.”

  For some reason, his words stung her more than she cared to admit. Why should she care if he wanted her gone, didn’t she want out just as bad?

  Yes, sure she did.

  “You can’t keep me here indefinitely you know. I do have a life, friends who will miss me.” Okay, that was a lie.

  She never felt quite like she belonged anywhere. School was an adolescent nightmare. Awkward and shy, she was more comfortable in a library among books than doing face time with her peers. As an adult…well, not much changed. It wasn’t like she had no friends. No, there had been a few who she actually liked and had things in common with. They just went their own way after school, and the particular commonality once shared stretched and finally broke with time. Not that she felt lonely, she had Salt and her aunt.

  Thinking of her aunt left a sharp stab of pain in her heart. The idea of never seeing her again, hearing her voice filled her with a mild panic. She took a long cleansing breath and pushed the thought deep inside. Later, once she was alone, she would succumb to the grief. At the moment, she needed to figure out how to get out of this mess she found herself in.

  “Well, your life will just have to deal with the interruption,” he snapped out between clenched teeth.

  The guy really had issues with women, or perhaps it was just her. She didn’t know what she did to make him dislike her so much and hated the feeling. She missed something very important. Only she had no clue what it could be.

  “Easy for you to say when it isn’t you being held against your will,” she groused.

  Arthur sighed. The sight of his broad chest rising and falling held all of her attention. She couldn’t help it. The way his muscles bunched tight and released beneath his tee shirt… dear Hecate, give her strength, Arthur could tempt a saint!

  She gave herself a mental shake, time to get back on track. Hoping he didn’t pick up on her sudden flare of lust, she flicked her gaze up to his face, relieved to find not a flicker of knowing in those warm brown depths.

  “Look, I realize this isn’t fair to you, and yes I also know you have a life you want to get back to. All I’m asking is for you to stay here until we can assure your safety. After all, it was your aunt’s dying wish, her last words asking us to keep you safe and out of Vance’s hands.”

  “Why me? Why now?”

  He gave another shrug, which brought her gaze sliding to the tightening of his pecs, her mind threatening to derail a second time. She ground her back molars in frustration, forcing her to once again meet his penetrating stare.

  “I have a feeling it has to do with your powers. They are quite developed from what I witnessed.”

  “Yeah, not as developed as that black-haired woman, Merci. She neutralized me quite easily.” She didn’t try to hide the bitter tone from her voice.

  “Few are in her caliber, being a direct descendant of Morgan le Fey. Don’t feel too bad about her subduing you.”

  She blinked at his outrageous claim. “Uh, huh, and I’m supposed to believe this.”

  “Don’t see why not. It’s the truth and shouldn’t be too much of a stretch of the imagination since you are a witch.”

  “Being a witch and believing in Arthurian legends are two completely different things. One is a reality, the other fantasy,” she argued, her hand swiping through the air between them.

  With a movement so quick it stunned her, he grabbed her hand and pulled her up against his chest. She could feel his heart beat through her chest, his warmth penetrating through her clothes to send tendrils of warmth through her body. Her pulse quickened at his masculine scent. His gaze sparked with hunger, and she couldn’t find the strength to pull away if her life depended on it.

  What was it about this man that brought her brain to a screeching halt and her body up in flames? Caught in his stare, the need to kiss him swelled through her. All logic and rational thought packed up and vacated to parts unknown. She wanted him in a way she never wanted anyone before.

  Oh, there were men in the past. Two lackluster experiences with sex cured her of her virginity…and gave her a serious body complex from the criticism heaped on her about her weight.

  But this…this need went beyond anything she ever experienced, and it scared the crap out of her.

  * * * *

  Arthur found his thoughts behaving like leaves caught in a whirlwind and sent scattering in every direction. Deep cerulean eyes pulled at his gut. A light smattering of freckles spread from her nose to her cheeks that he never noticed before, but now imagined tracing with his mouth. Her full lips parted, so pink and inviting, his teeth ground together in an effort to control his urge to pull her to him and claim those inviting lips. Would she be as sweet as she looked?

  Oh, man he so wanted to find out.

  Her body sent his blood to boiling with all those lush curves. He wanted to explore every delectable inch, dip and hollow. Hear her cry of pleasure in his ears and taste her on his tongue. The thought made his cock press uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.

  With her soft curves pressed tight to his body, her sweet honeysuckle scent wafted to him. He bit back a groan as his body grew even harder. Gods damn, the woman was killing him. A siren leading him to places he should know better than go, especially with this female. Yet the need grew, morphing into obsession to take what she offered. Unknowingly or not, the need ramped him up, torqueing his body to the next level.

  Her lips hovered just inches from his, too damn tempting. Without knowing how, his lips brushed ever so lightly against hers. The touch sent an unexpected bolt of lust skittering through his bloodstream at mach one. Deepening the kiss, his teeth nipped at her bottom lip in silent demand for entrance and oh, hell yeah, she opened for him on a soft moan.

  He wasted no time. His tongue swept inside and tasted the sweetness of her. Bringing her tighter still, his hands moved over her back to her soft rounded hips and cupped her ass, grinding her into his aching erection. Her small hands traveled up his arms, exploring his body.

  And oh, fuck yes, those fingers of hers did diabolical things to his control as they stroked, smoothed and then went up to tangle in his hair. She pulled him closer, meeting his kiss with demands of her own.

  He broke the kiss and took a shaky breath. Satisfaction swept through him as he drank in the sight of her kiss-swollen lips, her heavy-lidded eyes glassy with desire. That he put that look on her face filled him with savage satisfaction. With a deep growl in the back of this throat, he went in again, capturing her mouth in a kiss more demanding than the first.

  One hand rose, grazing her hip, the curve of her waist and up to her full breasts. He cupped her, feeling her nipple harden against his palm. Stroking his thumb against it, he rasped out praise for her body, her responsiveness. Rewarded when he felt her shudder in reaction, a small gasp escaping her, added fuel to an already raging lust racing through his bloodstream.

  Breaking the kiss on a ragged groan, he moved his hand up to tangle with her fiery curls, so soft… He gently pushed them back away from her face, marveling as they wrapped around his fingers like a caress. “I want inside of you beneath me, those sexy legs wrapped around me ti
ght while I fuck you,” he rasped out, his voice a deep husky growl of need.

  She blinked. The passion in her gaze dimmed as her eyes narrowed and anger flashed in their depths, a sudden squall rising from a sea of…oh shit. Her lips pressed tightly together. “Not likely to happen, let go, now.”

  Her words were better than a cold shower, shocking him back to reality. What the hell was he thinking? This female was off-limits for far too many reasons to count. How could he forget her betrayal? Her actions led to the ultimate downfall of Camelot, the loss of a loyal friend whose sword could have turned the tide of the battle of Camlann. Because of her adulterous actions, he lost everything.

  Fuck that, never again. He swore no woman would hold sway over him in this life, and he would be damned if his resolve weakened, repeating the same mistake in this life.

  The woman could go to the nine levels of hell before he fell into that trap. His anger flashed where passion once burned, turning his desire to ash and leaving a deep hollowness in his gut.

  He took a step back from the witch who haunted him with such tenacity. “Don’t worry, this won’t ever happen again,” he replied with more than a touch of frost in his voice. “Dinner is at six. Someone will be by to escort you to the dining room so don’t be late.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply or to see what reaction his words would have on her. Spinning on his heel, he marched out the room, closing the door behind him firmly.

  He needed to avoid being anywhere near the woman, especially with so many things on his plate needing his attention. He felt comforted by the idea as the heels of his boots made a soft tapping noise in the empty hall. Yes, Gwen McAllister would be easy to ignore.

  Chapter Five

  “So it is true. She lives.” Lancelot Du Lac, fiercest of the legendary knights, a warrior unparalleled in the art of the sword, looked ready to bolt out the door.

  If circumstances were different Arthur would have found his old friend’s discomfort amusing. As things stood?

  Not so funny.

  Sitting in his high-backed chair he let his attention wander toward the majestic view of the Pacific Ocean out the bay window. He felt nothing of the pleasure it usually inspired in him. “Yes, but there is something off, there is no recollection of me. Not a glimmer at all.”

  “Enchantment surely, for I know of the reincarnations of you and your knights. And how you keep the memories of the lives you lived.”

  He studied Lancelot’s rigid stance, a black scowl forming a crease in the middle of his brows. His dark hair pulled back from a face unchanged in all the centuries he had…what, been hanging in limbo?

  It still came as a surprise when he saw Lancelot. Living in Avalon preserved his youth, but all those centuries existing with the repercussions of what he had a hand in must have been living hell for him. And now Gwen returned and with it, old wounds which never quite healed. With their own friendship barely mended he wondered if Gwen’s sudden reappearance in their lives would break the tenuous threads.

  A dark whisper rose up from the back of his mind. Would Lancelot pursue Gwen? The idea sent a spike of rage through him. Something hidden deep in him rose up.

  Mine.

  Cursing his stupidity, he viciously locked the rage and possessiveness down, forcing it into a dank, dark vault, locking it up tight and throwing away the key for good measure.

  Taking a long cleansing breath, he rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension out of the muscles bracketing his neck. “Enchantment or not, my dealings in regard to Miss McAllister will not change. I wish to be rid of her as quickly as possible.”

  Lancelot’s gaze bored into him a minute before shifting his attention to the window and the sea beyond, his voice pensive as he spoke, “There was a time when I thought naught else but to have the Lady for mine own. Now, I am unsure how I feel. You must think me callous, a knave and worse. Yet, I will be truthful in this as with all else.”

  “As will I, my friend, as will I.”

  “What is to be done with her?”

  “For now, we watch, wait and keep her safe until we defeat Mordred.”

  Arthur’s skin prickled with the sudden wash of magic in the air and swiveled his seat to the door in time to see Viviane shimmer into view. Her long locks pulled into pigtails fell to her shoulders, the shimmering waves of white blonde and pink matching the bows on her tight fitting ruffled shirt. Her barely there leather skirt rode high up shapely legs encased in black hose and matching ankle boots. Arthur shook his head in wonder at the fashion sense of the goddess.

  “Who are we watching?” Viviane questioned as she gracefully moved to Lancelot’s side.

  He hid a smile at the shell-shocked look on Lancelot’s face as he stared wide-eyed at the woman who barely stood to his shoulders. He schooled his features and cleared his throat before addressing the Goth goddess. “Do you remember the debriefing we held after we rescued Colin and Juliet from Vance’s underground lab?” At her slow nod, he continued, “And about the woman who saved Colin’s life from Mordred’s magic?” Another nod from the goddess, this time with an air of impatience. “That, Viviane, was the aunt of a woman named Gwen McAllister.”

  “All right I’ll bite. And who pray tell is this Gwen McAllister?”

  “Guinevere,” Arthur bit it out as if just saying the woman’s name left a bad taste in his mouth.

  “No freaking way! You wouldn’t put that…that woman under the same roof as the both of you would you?” She looked from one man to the other, her eyes narrowing into angry slits of blue fire. “Well, would you?” The demand charged the air with a crackle of energy, all goddess with attitude.

  “The kicker is the woman has no recollection of her past lives,” Lancelot interjected in a futile attempt to head off what had every indication of being a major explosion.

  “How can she not remember who she is?”

  “Gwen is a witch and so was her aunt. Perhaps the woman placed a spell on Gwen to forget,” Arthur waved a hand in the air in frustration. “For whatever reason, right now the reality is, she has no recollection of any of us. And from my brief meeting with her this morning, probably thinks I’m delusional. Not that I can blame her really. Learning that the Arthurian legends we all grew up with are true could be a bit hard to swallow.”

  Viviane squared her shoulders. “I’m going to see for myself. She could be faking, and I wouldn’t put it past the deceitful little twit.”

  Arthur rose suddenly from his chair at the same time as Lancelot grabbed her arm to detain her. “Oh, no, you will meet her in about twenty minutes when she comes for dinner.”

  Inhuman sparks crackled in the goddess’s pale blue eyes, the guise of the young Goth dropped away in her fury as she rounded on the two men. Her voice reverberated in the room as her magic built. “You do not have the right to interfere if I choose to see the female.”

  What happened to the even natured, rational goddess he knew and relied on go? What stood before him radiating outrage certainly couldn’t be the same entity. And why such strong enmity toward Guinevere? For some reason, the urge to protect Gwen surged through him in an overpowering tide of need, nearly dropping him to his knees from the strength of it.

  By all the gods what was wrong with him? He didn’t care what became of the witch, he couldn’t. He needed to remember her betrayal, his need to prepare for Mordred’s next attack.

  Yet his thoughts still strayed. Her image rose up in his mind as he had left her in her room. Lips pink and swollen from his kiss, large blue eyes staring up at him slightly glazed with her desire, her hair tousled, the bright strands catching the light in a blaze of burnished fire tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. His fingers ached to touch those silky strands.

  Her nipples were hard as they strained against her tight tee shirt her body a voluptuous feast for the taking. He hardened at the memory and silently cursed his raging lust.

  He forgot the last time he got laid and clearly, that problem needed to b
e rectified and quickly. Perhaps he would go with Simon and Darius to one of their hangouts tonight, ease this irrational desire. Then come back and deal with Gwen with a logical, clear head.

  Yeah, and pigs fly.

  Viviane’s voice yanked him from his thoughts, and he looked down at her expectant face. “What was that?”

  She rolled her eyes and huffed in exasperation, fists resting on her hips, “I said who is fetching our guest? I hardly think anyone here would be thrilled to see her let alone show her around.”

  “Andrea volunteered. It seems she feels sorry for the girl, same with Juliet.”

  “Well, they like any stray that crosses their path. They don’t know how much of a viper she really is.”

  “Now, Viviane, that’s not true, and you know it,” Lancelot admonished her gently. “I have, not once seen you act this way. In all my centuries of knowing you, you’ve never shown malice toward anyone.”

  She seemed to deflate in front of Arthur’s eyes. Her cheeks flushed as she lowered her gaze to the floor. “I know, but she caused so much turmoil…I’m afraid history will repeat itself. You both just repaired your friendship and right now the extra strain could be too much.”

  “You are assuming I still have feelings for Guinevere,” Lancelot’s tone held a harsh note of accusation. “I assure you I do not. I am not the same man who once walked the halls of Camelot. I know what I want in a woman now.” He paused until the goddess raised her gaze to his. “And what I do not.”

  The meaning was not lost on Arthur and from the look on Viviane’s face, she got it. Well, well, Lancelot and Viviane? Who would have guessed and now the goddess’s animosity toward Gwen made perfect sense. She was jealous. Whether his old friend knew it or not, his single days would soon be over.

  The poor bastard.

  The thought of another man of his falling into the seductive web of a woman brought a hollowness to his chest. He recognized the loneliness within him and accepted it. After all, he made the choice never to fall in love, and he would keep true to that choice.