Primal Temptation

by Sydney Somers

  Another snarl and then the tiger was gone again, running in the direction of the altar.

  Moving slower than she wanted, Briana followed when Lucan pursued, skidding around the last corner and back into the altar room. Briana watched the tiger slink backward.

  The chains lay only a few feet behind them. There was no sign of Maeve, Aren or Morgana…

  Briana’s gaze darted back to the chains and she knew exactly what Morgana was there to claim.

  Before she got the opportunity to warn Lucan, Kel’s body shot out of the shadows and nailed the tiger in the side. Shaken, the animal regained its footing, but Lucan was already on him, and the tiger’s huge body crumpled under the force of another staggering blow.

  The sounds of the chains clinking together sent the tiger into a keening frenzy, though he made no move to get up.

  “I’m so sorry, my friend.” Lucan closed the cuff around the tiger’s neck, and by the time he finished securing the chains, the tiger had been once more replaced by the man.

  “Con?” Lucan dropped to his knees if front of the former knight. He shot a helpless look at Kel. “What the hell happened to him?”

  Kel didn’t offer any theories to explain how Constantine ended up here after his disappearance centuries ago.

  “Con?” Lucan reached a hand out, but the other immortal didn’t so much as lift his head when Lucan tried to talk to him.

  “Well done.” The burst of applause jolted Briana, her body overloaded with adrenaline. Soon she’d feel every ache and slice from the tiger’s claws, but at the moment all she felt was relief and a little worried when the gods joined them.

  Morgana, who Briana hadn’t noticed until then, walked to where Lucan stood. Her lips parted in a surprised grin. “Lancelot.” She nodded to where he held the end of the chain. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  Lucan jerked the chain out of the sorceress’s reach.

  “Is that supposed to stop me?”

  Growling softly, Briana positioned herself between them before the sorceress tried physically removing the chain from Lucan’s hand.

  Morgana glanced around the room, then back to Briana, having no problem recognizing her. “Really? This one?” She couldn’t have sounded more disappointed if she’d tried.

  “Briana, don’t.” Lucan set his hand on her back, but didn’t grip her fur.

  More amused than annoyed, Morgana shook her head. “Don’t you ever get tired of trying to save everyone, Lancelot? Hasn’t history taught you that it’s a waste of time?” She cocked her head. “I do wonder though, if you had to choose between her and your brethren, who would you pick?”

  Briana snapped her jaws, wanting the sorceress’s complete attention.

  Morgana huffed out a breath. “You’re becoming a little inconvenient, kitty-cat. I have no doubt he’d choose you, but would he keep you?” Eyes narrowing a fraction, she studied Lucan’s face. “I cannot imagine what the gargoyle sees in you, knight, but it pays to be selfish sometimes. Selfless acts are overrated.”

  Lucan gave no indication he knew what the sorceress was talking about.

  Briana stayed next to Lucan as the sorceress nodded to Aren, and whatever the god did transferred the chain from Lucan’s hand to hers. “Better. Now my other item,” she prompted.

  Aren vanished, reappearing a moment later with a chalice in his hand.

  “No!” Lucan lunged forward, too late to prevent Aren from handing it to Morgana.

  With the chalice in hand and Constantine on his knees next to her, Morgana gave Briana a little wave, and all three of them disappeared.

  “How in the fuck did she do that?” Elena asked, though Briana didn’t have a clue when either the fledgling sorceress or Vaughn had joined them. Nessa and the enchantress were still missing, while Bran stood off to the side, still looking as shell-shocked as Lucan.

  “Congratulations!”

  Briana wasn’t sure how Maeve and Aren could look disappointed and pleased at the same time. Not enough bloodshed for them, she imagined.

  Lucan stripped off his shirt and held it out to her. Taking that as a sign he needed her back in human form, she let the cat slide back under her skin.

  The shirt was over her head and his arms were wrapped around her before she was even back on her feet. Her eyes slid shut, no one else mattering now that she was back in his arms.

  “I wanted to come after you,” he whispered against her hair.

  “I know.” She squeezed her arms around him. “I got bored waiting, so I came looking for you instead.”

  His lips found her forehead, his smile bringing her own to the forefront. In a minute he’d remember she was bleeding and that they’d just lost one of his closest friends to Morgana.

  “Don’t mind us,” Maeve said, the exaggerated sweetness in her voice sharper than the sword she held in her hand. “Unless you’d rather us award this to someone else.”

  Lucan glanced at Briana, indecision darkening his night-forest eyes.

  Frowning, she took a step toward him. It wasn’t nearly enough to stop the choking wave of fear that rolled through her, sending her heart into a backspin. “Luc?”

  He shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

  The churning in her stomach worsened as the echo of Morgana’s words rang in her ears. “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t do it.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I can’t live—”

  “Without you,” she finished. “That’s what you were going to say, right?” With trembling hands she caged his jaw, searching his eyes for any sign that she wasn’t about to lose him for good. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” Not today. Not ever.

  “You don’t understand.”

  She didn’t let him say another word. She rocked up on her toes, silencing him with her mouth. For one painfully long second she thought he had no intention of kissing her back, and then he locked his arms around her, hauling her flush against him.

  Twining her arms around his neck, she surrendered entirely to the slow heat that spiraled into an all-consuming flame that could never be extinguished. She refused to believe this would be their last kiss, the last time she’d feel his breath on her lips or the comfort of his arms holding her close.

  And it took every bit of strength she had left to pull away when she knew that he’d already made his decision. But that certainty didn’t stop her from ignoring those around them to say one more thing. “Arthur regretted waiting too long to fight for Gwen. Don’t make the same mistake. Fight for me. For us. Always fight for us.”

  A slow smile curved his lips. “Always,” he echoed.

  She’d been so sure he was going to release her from the mate bond that she was sure she hadn’t heard right.

  Reading the confusion on her face, he palmed her cheek. “I’ll always fight for us.”

  “I see you’ve made your decision then,” Maeve interrupted. “The sword is yours.” She tossed the weapon to Lucan, and when his fingers closed around the hilt of the blade the inside of the mountain vanished.

  Once more they found themselves standing a few feet apart on the same stretch of sidewalk where they’d first been snatched away. Thankfully night had fallen, making them—her in a T-shirt that only came mid-thigh, and him with a sword—a little less conspicuous.

  Not that either of those things would have stopped her from launching herself into his arms anyway. Ignoring the lingering pain from her wounds, she closed her eyes and tucked her face against the column of his throat.

  “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” She tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “I thought…” She trailed off, shaking her head, the searing tightness at the back of her throat making it hard to talk.

  “You weren’t wrong. Going into the last round I had every intention of releasing you from the mate bond whether you wanted me to or not.”

  “Luc—”

  “But,” he cut in, “what I was going to say before you interrupted me earlier, was that I don�
�t know how to let you go. The second I realized I won the last round, I tried to imagine my life without you, and everything was just…gone. I’ve lost family, friends, my freedom, but giving you up? Imagining that was the most terrifying moment of my existence. I know I should walk away, that you’d be better off without—”

  She slapped her hand over his mouth. “You should probably stop there.”

  Laughing he pulled her hand away, pressing a soft kiss to her palm before holding it over his heart. “I love you, Briana Callaghan.”

  “I love you too.”

  “I still can’t believe you won,” Briana said a while later.

  Her wounds had closed and she sat opposite Lucan in the house she shared with her brothers, neither of them sure how long they had before one of the others came looking for the sword Lucan had yet to let go of.

  “Do you think it was too easy?” he mused, not for the first time.

  “Are you asking because no one died?” The Gauntlet had always been painted as a gory death match and most of them had escaped with relatively minor injuries. It was just one more thing that confused the hell out of her.

  He shrugged. “It’s lighter than I remember.” He opened and closed his fingers around the hilt.

  “You haven’t tried to summon Rhiannon.” With the sword he could bargain for his release. No matter what kind of grudge the goddess held, the sword would give her back the one thing she craved more than anything—her son.

  “What if it doesn’t work?”

  She searched his face. “Are we talking about awakening Arthur or letting go of the wraith?”

  Lucan rubbed his chest. “I’ve wanted to be free of it for so long…” he trailed off, frowning. “The wraith could have taken over and killed everyone the second I was inside that volcano. I wanted it to.” He tugged her close, his expression brutally savage. “I would do anything to protect you.”

  Briana slid her arms around his neck, tucking her face against his throat. “And that’s supposed to worry me? Maybe you should think back to my reaction to the redhead in the parking lot.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not the same.”

  “Stop. We’ve both lived lives surrounded by violence, war, death. We can’t change that, can’t change how it shaped us. I love you, all of you.” She tapped his chest. “Even the darkest parts that you seem to think make you a monster.”

  He didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t give him the chance to argue. She opened her mouth over his. Whatever he decided didn’t matter nearly as much as making him understand that this—their kiss, their trust, their love—was all that really counted.

  They’d figure out the rest.

  Both of them were breathing hard when she pulled away, smoothing her hand across his jaw, unable to stop from touching him. “We need to make some plans.” They couldn’t stay here with Excalibur in their possession. It was too risky.

  “I know.” He stole another kiss, lingering over her lips. “And you need to eat something.” He glanced down at her growling stomach and grinned.

  “Something quick.” That along with a shower, and then they’d need to get moving.

  She started toward the kitchen, her limp still a little pronounced.

  Lucan caught her gently around the waist. “Stay here.” He handed her the sword. “I’ll get you something. Just be prepared to come to my rescue if Tristan comes home.”

  She tried not to wince. She hadn’t managed to get hold of any of her brothers yet. “He’ll get used to it. They all will.”

  Lucan snorted, but left her without saying anything about snowballs in hell.

  Alone, she stared at the sword, the mark on the hilt looked…off to her. She’d never held Excalibur before so why did the mark stick in her head? She closed her eyes, mentally hunting for whatever made her think she’d seen it before.

  It reminded her of the Gauntlet symbol, but like the bottom half of it had been scratched off…

  In the catacombs, the other mural…

  More than one. She jumped to her feet. There had been more than one sword. “Lucan!”

  On her feet, she limped toward the kitchen, making it only halfway across the room. The Fae materialized in the room, throwing out his hand the moment his gaze landed on her.

  Old magic plowed into her, slamming her into the wall. The sword they’d been told was Excalibur landed at her feet. She reached for the weapon, but the Fae beat her to it.

  “I’m sorry.” He drove the blade into her abdomen.

  Lucan had already turned around when something hit the wall. He sprinted the last few steps, and some of the tension drained from his spine when Briana stepped into the doorway just as he reached it.

  And then he noticed the blood seeping through her fingers.

  No.

  She fell into him, crying out when he tried to break her fall. Sheltering her in his arms, he scanned the room behind her, but they were alone.

  What the fuck happened?

  Blood covered both of them by the time he lowered her to the ground, and his fingers shook as she tried to check her wound.

  “Who did this?” He heard the wraith’s voice leave his mouth, though he was still firmly in control.

  “The Fae.” She nodded to the floor just inside the door. “It’s not Excalibur.” She cried out, her claws sinking into his arm as he peeled back her shirt. “It’s Mordred’s sword.”

  His eyes closed. Not Briana. He couldn’t lose her already. It was too soon, and not fucking like this.

  Breath frozen in his chest, he didn’t ask how she knew about Mordred’s sword or why the gods had intentionally misled them. He needed to stop the bleeding first. Everything else came second.

  She stopped his hand. “It won’t heal.”

  He couldn’t accept that, not even as the sword lay there, taunting him, her blood darkening the blade. Sweat dampened her forehead. The fever was already setting in.

  Snatching the sword off the floor, he stood. “Rhiannon!”

  Jostled, Briana hissed out a breath, fear creeping into her eyes as she stared up at him.

  “Rhiannon!” He yelled for the goddess until he was hoarse. “Rhiannon, show yourself.”

  “Luc.” Briana held a hand up to him.

  Throat on fire, he dropped next to her, wanting to haul her into his arms but knew how much pain it would cause her.

  “You disappear, refusing my call, and then you think to summon me?”

  Lucan’s head snapped up at the sound of Rhiannon’s voice. The goddess stood in the middle of the room, her long red hair pulled back from her face, gold arm bands that still carried the crest of Camelot snug around her biceps. She didn’t look impressed, and that made the fear and anger ripping through his gut even worse.

  “Save her.”

  “You do not command me, wraith.”

  He squeezed Briana’s hand, the blood so dark against her already pale skin. “Help her!”

  The goddess looked at Briana long enough for him to know that Rhiannon recognized her. Her gaze drifted to the sword at his side. “Where did you get that?”

  “It’s yours.” He stood and threw it at her feet. “Everything is yours. Just…save her. Please. Take the sword, take my fucking soul, but help her.”

  “You could ask me for anything in exchange for that sword, even your freedom, and you want me to help a gargoyle?”

  “My freedom means nothing if she dies.”

  Although he had the sword to offer, he was still a little stunned when she crouched next to Briana. Her eyes softened, and he felt hope creep through him.

  She shook her head. “It’s impossible.”

  “No.” That wasn’t good enough. She could do this. She could save Briana.

  Lucan dropped to his knees. He’d thought about making the goddess suffer over and over for what she’d done to him, done to everyone who’d loved and trusted Arthur, but he’d never imagined himself begging her for anything. “Please.”

  “I couldn’t
save my own son.”

  He clenched his jaw so hard the pain radiated across his skull. There had to be another way. He looked at where Briana lay. Her lip trembled but she tried for a smile. Just like Arthur had.

  She knew she was going to die.

  “There must be something,” he tried again, panic clawing up through his chest.

  “I’m sorry. There isn’t.”

  His eyes slid closed, and then he felt Briana’s hand on his knees. He bent and touched his forehead to hers. “I won’t let you go.”

  “This wasn’t your fault.”

  “No.” His voice shook, and it took a moment to speak without his voice cracking. “I promised.” Godfuckingdamn. This wasn’t doing everything he could to keep them together. “Don’t leave me, Briana. You can’t.” He needed her too much.

  “Luc, I don’t want to suffer like Arthur.” She cupped his cheek, raising his face to meet her gaze. “I don’t want to die like that.”

  Her meaning sank in, and his heart cracked wide open. “Don’t ask me…” the words stuck in his throat. He could not take her life. He wouldn’t.

  Interlocking their fingers, he thought of what Kel said to him about keeping his shit together.

  “The Fae,” he said to Rhiannon. “Bran. He did this. Why?” Maybe if he could figure out the reason, then just maybe…

  Rhiannon eyes widened. “Bran? Impossible. He’s looking after—”

  The goddess whirled mid-sentence, her arms going up to block the fist that came out of nowhere.

  Maeve and Aren stood opposite Rhiannon, a familiar-looking dagger in Aren’s hand. One of Constantine’s?

  Lucan hadn’t even wrapped his mind around all three gods standing only a few feet away when Maeve dove for the sword.

  Lucan kicked it out of reach, then retreated, keeping Briana behind him. The goddess snarled at him, then pivoted back in time to see Aren stumble away from Rhiannon.

  Taking advantage of the goddess’s distraction, he slipped his arm under Briana and dragged her out into the hall. Briana screamed in agony before gritting her teeth through the end of it, and the wraith howled.

  “It hurts,” she panted.

  “I know, kitten.”