Cat eyes considered her. “You could . . . encourage him to embrace his destiny.”
“Arthur and Guinevere have ordered me not to tell Logan I’m a Maja.”
Morgana’s smile was as thin as a razor, and just as sharp. “So don’t tell him.”
Giada’s eyes narrowed. “They also ordered me to stay out of his bed. Repeatedly. And I will not disobey them.”
“Will you not?” There was a note of silky threat in her voice.
Giada swallowed and lifted her chin. “No.”
Lush lips thinned, and Morgana’s voice snapped like a whip. “I am your liege!”
Giada stared at her, anger beginning to heat her veins. She wants me to seduce him into the Gift without warning him! “And I gave. My. Word.”
“You’re from the twenty-first century. Your word is . . . flexible.”
Now she saw red. “No. It’s really not.”
Morgana settled back against the settee’s arm and eyed her, gaze now cool with calculation. “No. I see it isn’t.” Her dark head tilted as she studied Giada with unnerving intensity. “You’re not the most powerful Maja, are you?”
“No.” Giada met her gaze without flinching, anger making her reckless. “And yes, you could fry me like a mosquito in a bug zapper.”
“Oh, child! So melodramatic!” Once again, Morgana threw back her head in pealing laughter. It was beginning to seem a little over the top. “I have no interest in hurting you! I want to help you. After all, you’re all that stands between my beloved nephew and a very ugly mortal death.”
Riiiiight. Giada just looked at her, brows lifted.
“And I do want him to survive long enough to become a Magus.” She reached behind her neck, thrusting out her impressive cleavage as she took off her emerald necklace. The gemstone swung with a hypnotic glitter as she extended it to Giada. “This will amplify your connection to the Mageverse, allowing you to draw power more easily.”
Giada eyed the gem warily. “That’s very generous, but I couldn’t . . .”
“Do you wish to save Logan’s life or not?”
She blew out a breath and extended her hand. “Well, when you put it like that . . .”
Morgana poured the emerald and its golden chain into her palm, sending a hot tingle racing up her arm.
Concealing a shiver, Giada looped the necklace over her head. “Thank you.” She meant it.
Giada had lived most of her life as the most gifted person in the room. Finding herself a less-than-powerful witch grated on her. Particularly now, when everything depended on her magical skill.
Morgana gave her a curt nod and rose from the settee like a cat uncoiling. “Keep it with you. You’ll need it.”
Knowing a dismissal when she heard one, Giada rose and bowed. “Thank you, my liege.”
The witch nodded and escorted her to the door. Giada fled, feeling she’d made a narrow escape.
Morgana watched the young Maja stride across her garden. A gate appeared before her like a glowing doorway of light, and she vanished through it in a ripple of magical energy.
Slumping, the Maja swung her front door closed. There would be repercussions for this night’s work. The girl wouldn’t discover the deception—she didn’t have the power.
Guinevere, however, did.
Arthur’s wife would know the minute she touched the necklace that it was spelled to do more than enhance the child’s power. She and Arthur would be furious. So would Logan and Giada, for that matter.
But it wouldn’t be the first time Morgana had angered her half brother, and it wouldn’t be the last. She wasn’t looking forward to facing his rage—or Logan’s either, for that matter. But she’d long since accepted the fact that someone had to do the jobs others were too honorable to do.
Morgana didn’t enjoy such jobs, and she certainly wasn’t proud of doing them, but she’d always done what was best for her people no matter the cost.
And she always would.
“Is he dead?”
The woman tightened her grip on the cell phone. “No.”
Her father swore, hissing curses in a deadly voice. “Useless female. I should have known you would not have the stomach for this.”
“My stomach is not the problem.” She took a deep breath and wrestled her irritation into submission. Father had never recognized her strength, her determination. All his hopes had rested on her older brother’s shoulders, despite Trey’s obvious flaws.
But she’d sworn that by the time she was done, he’d see her worth, strength, and intelligence. She’d prove she was more than the mere female he considered her. “They’ve got a witch watching him. She disabled the first bomb.”
“They suspect?” Alarm rang in his voice. “I told you they must learn nothing!”
“And they haven’t.” With an effort, she kept her tone cool and level. “They simply suspect someone is targeting their Latents. And they’ll never learn anything different, because I’m going to take care of her. Once she’s gone, Arthur’s spawn will be dead within the day.”
“Good. I want that bastard Celt to suffer as I have.”
“He will.”
“But carefully. I do not want our shame common knowledge. Too many enemies would turn it against me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, Father. They’ll never trace any of this back to you. I have taken great care to make sure the assassin knows nothing. And you know I will never betray you.”
“See that you don’t.”
His tone sent ice creeping up her spine. She could almost feel the weight of his fist. She licked dry lips. “How is Mother?”
“No better. She is sedated most of the time.” He sighed. “She fears how our people will react if this becomes known. And her grief . . .” Silence stretched, vibrating and taut. “She has never been strong, even for a female.”
Her fingers tightened on the cell phone. “Our people will know only what you want them to know. And Arthur will pay in blood.”
In the dream, Giada was tied up again.
Red silk scarves bound her spread-eagled to the four-poster bed. Moonlight fl ooded through the window, painting Logan’s muscled body in silver light as he reclined next to her. His eyes blazed red, and fangs glinted in his lazy smile as he twirled a long white plume between his fingers.
The feather danced over one nipple as Logan teased her with delicate little strokes. She chuckled at the ticklish sensation, squirming. He watched her twist in her bonds, blatant male possessiveness in his gaze. “Mmmmm,” he purred, his voice so deep, the sound alone was enough to make her hot. “Don’t you look good enough to eat.”
Giada grinned up at him. “You’re a bad man, Logan MacRoy.”
“Oh, darlin’, you have no idea.” He grinned back, wicked. “But you will.”
He drew the ostrich feather along the full underside of her breasts, then fl oated it across her ribs to make her jerk and giggle.
Giada looked up at him, loving the way he studied her as if trying to decide what luscious, wicked thing he was going to do next. Her mock helplessness in her silken bonds only added to the sweet heat. She knew how completely safe she was with him.
He lifted his eyes to hers, lids dipping lazily as he stroked the feather over her stomach, teasing first her belly button, then the spread of her thighs. He bent his head and breathed softly, puffi ng into the soft nest of hair there until she smiled in anticipation.
“You smell wet,” he murmured, his smile hot.
Giada laughed. “I am wet. You have that effect on me.”
“Yeah?” He rolled between her legs. “Let’s see just how wet I can make you.”
Logan bent his head and parted her lips with his fi ngers, then settled down to lick. The fi rst pass of his tongue made her squirm. Pleasure swirled through her, lazy and hot. He nibbled, teased, stretched one arm up her torso to fl utter the feather over the curve of her breast. She rolled her hips in helpless pleasure at the delicate sensation.
Heat ex
panded through her in gorgeous waves, growing hotter and more intense with every swirl of his tongue. She surrendered to the passion, let it crash through her.
Until he rose between her thighs and settled on top of her, weight braced on one arm, his gaze predatory. Taking his cock in hand, he aimed it for her slick opening. And thrust in one hard, demanding stroke that buried him to the balls.
They caught their breath together. He felt so thick, so overwhelming and delicious. He reared back, plunged deep again. And again. And again, rolling his powerful ass in those breath-stealing lunges.
Giada cried out in pleasure. Orgasm stormed through her, tearing a ragged yowl from her throat. Logan growled back as he lowered his head to seek the thumping vein in her neck. And bit, sinking his fangs deep in one quick, painless stroke.
Wrapped hard in his arms, impaled, surrendering, Giada let herself fly.
Only to wake, shivering, in the dark, her body thrumming with the dying echoes of her climax.
As she wondered yet again whether it had been vision or dream.
Across town, Logan jolted awake, sweating, sick at the taste of dream blood and the sight of Giada’s bloodless corpse. And tried desperately to persuade himself it had been only a nightmare and nothing more.
The next morning dawned clear and bright, under a sky of a particularly piercing shade of Carolina blue. The drive to the sheriff’s office required more patience than Giada usually had, as she negotiated the bustling Greendale traffic through the city’s sprawling downtown. The stream of cars poured past clothing and antique stores crowded shoulder to shoulder with restaurants and bars. A couple of corporate headquarters presided over the low skyline with brick faces trimmed in cream and banks of windows like huge green mirrors.
In Greendale, anything over three stories looked like a skyscraper.
Finally reaching her destination, Giada drove her Toyota Camry into the sheriff’s office parking lot and pulled into her assigned space.
As she got out, juggling a newspaper and a cup of cooling drive-through coffee, Logan looked up from locking his own car door. “Hey.” His smile flashed as he walked over to her, and her too-susceptible heart began to beat far too fast with the memory of last night’s dream. She barely noticed the rumble of a car pulling up behind her.
“Ready for another exciting day in the world of—” Logan broke off, his eyes widening in horror. “Gun!” He leaped even as he roared the warning, slamming into Giada with desperate, bone-jarring force, powerful arms wrapping around her. Coffee and paper went flying as they crashed down in a heap. A pistol fired with an oddly flat firecracker pop. Giada’s head hit the pavement, touching off a cascade of stars behind her eyes.
She stared at the light show in dazed incomprehension as a car engine roared, accelerating away.
Someone just shot at us.For a stunned, breathless moment, Giada lay on the cold pavement, under Logan’s warm, panting weight, waiting for the next bullet. It didn’t come.
“Giada! Are you all right?” He peeled himself off her, dark eyes searching her face as he drew his gun. “Giada!”
She struggled to suck in a breath—but her stunned, frozen lungs refused to obey. Got the breath knocked out of me. She cast a quick spell, shocking her diaphragm into motion. “I’m okay,” she wheezed.
“Great. Just relax.” He rose into a crouch to snatch a look over her car hood, then holstered his gun again and pulled his cell phone off his belt. “Bitch’s gone. Fuck, holy fuck.”
“Jesus Christ!” a voice bellowed in the distance. “MacRoy, you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I just took a graze.” He started running his hands over Giada’s body in a fast, professional search for broken bones. “Call Dispatch and put out a BOLO for a black four-door Honda Civic with tinted windows,” he said over his shoulder. “Late model, maybe a 2009. Driver was a white female from what I saw, red or brown hair, definitely armed. And call for an ambulance. I think Giada’s hurt.”
“Plates?”
“I was too busy eating pavement to get the tag number.”
I’m supposed to protect him, and he saved my life. The thought slid through Giada’s dazed mind, followed quickly by Somebody just tried to shoot me.
She might be immortal, but her ability to heal just about any wound would do her no good if somebody put a bullet in her brain. She’d be dead before she could hit the ground, much less cast a spell.
“Giada?” He touched her face to collect her dazed attention. “Can you tell if you’re hurt anywhere? I hit you pretty hard.”
“You saved my life.” The words emerged as a croak. She winced and put a hand up to probe the back of her skull. Her fingertips discovered a very tender lump and something sticky. The bump pulsed a protest. “Ouch. My head.”
“Just lie still. You don’t need to go anywhere right now.”
“What the hell happened?” a harried male voice demanded.
Logan looked up. “Somebody tried to shoot Giada. Shell casing should be right over there.” He straightened to point. Giada’s eyes focused on a snaking trail of blood down his left forearm. “God knows where the bullet is. Probably under the car somewhere.”
She sat up so fast her head swam. Ignoring the sensation, she reached for him. “You’re bleeding!”
“I’m fine.” He gently urged her back down. “Be still, Giada. You don’t know how badly you’re hurt.”
She frowned, studying the blood trickling down his arm. “Is that a bullet wound?”
He shrugged. “Just a graze.”
“A graze?” She stared up at him, wanting badly to heal the wound, but knowing she didn’t dare.
By now, cops and civilian employees had gathered around them, all talking at once. The deputies began to search the parking lot for the bullet and its casing. Light flashed, blinding her as something whined—an evidence tech with a camera.
A beefy gray-haired man crouched beside Logan to gaze down at her in concern. His face was long and craggy, with a hawk nose and a thick Wyatt Earp mustache. He wore dark brown slacks, a cream shirt that bulged over a slight potbelly, and a gold and brown checked tie. It took Giada a moment to recognize Sheriff Bill Jones as his sharp hazel gaze searched hers. “Do you know why somebody would try to kill you?”
Giada blinked up at him and lied over the wail of an approaching ambulance. “I don’t have a clue, sir.” Except somebody’s trying to murder Logan MacRoy. And somehow they’ve figured out that I’m here to protect him.
Things had just gotten really complicated.
The next several hours were a blur of probing fingers and equally probing questions, along with assorted medical tests, none of which Giada enjoyed in the least.
Despite their best efforts, the ER staff of Greendale County Medical Center found nothing beyond a collection of scrapes and bruises caused by slamming into the pavement under Logan’s shielding body.
Giada had indeed suffered a concussion, but she’d healed that herself in the ambulance. Morgana’s emerald pendant was every bit as effective as the witch had promised, allowing her to draw energies from the Mageverse with no effort at all, daylight or no daylight.
She could have gotten rid of her road rash just as easily, but Logan had already seen the cuts, and she knew his suspicions would be aroused if they healed too fast. So Giada clenched her teeth and left the scrapes alone, ignoring their gritty sting.
Logan, too, had gone to the ER at the sheriff’s insistence, ending up in the room beside her own. The minute their caretakers were distracted, he slipped around the curtain separating them. A thick white pad covered the bullet graze on his forearm as he studied her with brooding eyes. “You’re sure you don’t know who the shooter could have been?”
“Like I told the last dozen cops who asked, I haven’t the faintest clue.” Giada slid a hand over her head and grimaced. Her chignon had collapsed into a haystack of tangles, some of which were sticky with blood. Her favorite black suit would never be the same; a bloody hole had been ripped
in her slacks over her left knee, and her white silk blouse was filthy and torn.
CSI Barbie was not looking her best.
“And before you ask,” Giada continued, ticking off the items on her fingers, “no, I wasn’t dating anyone back home, particularly not anyone with stalker ex-girlfriends who might want to blow me away out of jealousy. No, I don’t know any crazy rival chemists or fired coworkers. No nutso roommates either. I have no idea why anyone would want to kill me.” Except that they want me out of the way so they can kill you. “Maybe it was just some random fruitcake I cut off on the interstate. Who the heck knows?”
Logan gave her a tired smile. “I gather the detectives have been giving you the third degree.”
“And the fourth and fifth degree, too. I think they’re working on a doctorate.” She slid off the gurney and winced as her knee protested. “I just want to go back to my hotel room and sleep for about twelve hours.”
“About that . . .”
“Oh, jeez, what now?”
“I think you should come home with me.” Logan held up a hand as if to block her protests. “Not so I can hit on you again. You’ve got my word on that. If you are being targeted, I’d just feel better if you had someone with you.”
Giada stared at him, bewildered. “You want me to stay with you?”
“If you’re not comfortable with that idea, I can ask Sam Taylor—you know, the woman on the bomb squad? Jenny’s handler? I’m sure she’d let you stay with her for a few days.”
“No, I trust you. Especially considering you saved my life today.” This could work, she realized. It would give her an excuse to stay close to him even when he wasn’t on duty. “I really don’t think anybody’s after me, Logan, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take precautions.”
One thing was for sure, though. She was going to have to stay on her toes at all times. That gun could just as easily have been aimed at Logan as at her.
And she couldn’t protect him if she was dead.
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