Primal Temptation

Pendragon Gargoyles 4

by

Sydney Somers

Dedication

To Jeff…

I love you more!

Prologue

He dreamed of her death.

The images shadowed his mind, creeping along the edge of conscious thought as he jolted awake.

He struggled against the heavy chains around his wrists and ankles, the abrasive steel tearing at his skin. Caught between dreams and the reality of his imprisonment, it took a few moments to recognize the dark, impenetrable crystal walls of his cell, the claustrophobic ceiling that left barely enough room to stand.

How long had he been here? Weeks? Years? Centuries?

It was impossible to tell.

He leaned into the cool stone where he sat on the ground, the uneven rock digging into his back. He ignored the uncomfortable sensation. It would pass as quickly as the irritation from the already-healing scrapes on his wrists.

He tipped his head back, staring up at where he imagined the sun might be shining overhead. By the gods, he longed to feel the warming rays on his face, the heated tingle of them sinking into his skin.

Instead he felt only the damp, gritty earth beneath him and the chill of the dark broken only by fragments of muted light from a torch in a nearby tunnel. A tunnel that might as well have been on the opposite end of the world for all the good it did him.

His eyes slid shut, the dream growing more distant as it did every time he fought to recall the details—blood, darker than crimson and smelling faintly of old magic, the cold unforgiving metal of the blade, the crippling sense of betrayal, heartbreak and fear.

So much fear it coated the back of his throat until he nearly choked on it.

The harder he concentrated, determined to learn everything he could from the images that would come to pass, the more he grappled with slippery fingers to catch hold of a cloud.

He punched the ground and threw a bloodied handful of dirt and rocks at the wall. He couldn’t remain here, couldn’t wait for his sentence to pass, especially not if he was meant to rot here for eternity.

If he did nothing, she would die.

And it would change everything.

Chapter One

“You are a goddess.”

Grinning, Briana Callaghan wiggled out from under the desk after checking the local connection on the custom-built security system she had nearly finished upgrading. “Say it any louder and you might be struck down by the real deal.” Immortal beings could be notoriously vain, and the goddess who came to mind was known for striking out for far less.

Mac sprawled in the chair pushed away from the desk, arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of him. He wore a white shirt and dark suit that probably cost more than her commission for this job, the top buttons undone and his tie half stuffed in his pocket.

He looked like he’d just come from a cover shoot for sexiest man of the year—an image at complete odds with her earliest memories of him swinging a sword, covered in dirt and sweat as he sparred with her brothers on a muddy field, talking of one day joining King Arthur on the battlefield.

The six-foot-plus gargoyle shifter shrugged, his wolf half glittering in his eyes. “What’s Rhiannon going to do? Curse me to spend my daylight hours trapped in stone?” He straightened in the chair, changing positions for the tenth time in less than three minutes.

Briana stood, smiling and bumping him with her arm in passing. “I’d tell you to get over it already, but you’re too broody to forgo personal pity parties.”

Mac’s eyes narrowed, and she laughed.

Every predatory cat, wolf and dragon gargoyle who called Avalon home had felt the goddess’s wrath when King Arthur, her only son, died on the battlefield at Camlann centuries ago. The vicious and bloody war between Arthur and his half-sister over Camelot had raged for years before Arthur fell at the hands of his own nephew.

Blaming the gargoyle race for Arthur’s fatal wounds, Rhiannon had made sure that even those who crossed the veil to hide in the human realm couldn’t escape the curse of being trapped in their stone gargoyle from sunrise to sunset. Overnight, the mystical stone once viewed as a gargoyle’s ultimate protection against enemies was turned against them, a prison sentence with no expiry date.

Although plenty of gargoyles shared Mac’s lingering resentment for the unjust punishment following Arthur’s death, Briana had made her peace with it a long time ago.

It was the latest change she struggled to adapt to.

With a glance at her laptop, she crouched once more to check the installed hardware. “Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?” How many centuries did the rest of the gargoyle race need to get used to the way things were? She scanned the programming code on her screen.

“Easy to say coming from someone—” Mac leaned forward, his voice lowering, “—who can now control the shift to stone.”

Her head snapped up, her smile vanishing. “My brother has a big mouth.” Considering how much time her brother Cian spent with his new mate, it was a wonder he’d pried his mouth off Emma’s long enough to do more than devour a few Big Macs, let alone confide in Mac.

Feeling the wolf’s curious gaze burning holes in her back, Briana deliberately focused on her laptop.

Control was still too loose of a term to describe the fact that she didn’t automatically turn to stone with every sunrise, and she’d gladly give that up if it would undo the fact that—like her three older brothers—she’d found her mate.

She refused to discuss who her mate was with her brothers, so she sure as hell wasn’t talking about it with Mac. He might have a reputation for getting people to open up to him, but she knew better. For every second he spent looking like he didn’t have another place in the world to be, he was pinpointing a weakness that he could use to his advantage later.

When she heard him fidget again, she turned around. “Don’t you have a casino downstairs to oversee? I’m almost done anyway, and you know you don’t need to be here for this.”

He stared at her, waiting.

“You know that dominant wolf thing and staring everyone into submission doesn’t work on me.”

His eyes narrowed, and she knew he was probably trying to remember a time he’d been successful with it before. She rocked back on her heels, glad she wasn’t at the mercy of the whole “pack” mentality that wolves placed such an importance on.

A few moments later Mac stood, wisely giving up on probing for more information. Cian had undoubtedly put him up to it. “I’m going, but only because we both know that when you say you’re almost done, it really means you’re going to tweak things for another couple hours.”

“I like to be thorough.”

“For what you’re charging me, I’d damn well hope so.” He shuddered. “Cristo would have only cost me half as much.”

Briana snorted. “That hack? He’s also the reason you needed me to begin with.” Frowning at the screen, she pulled up the chair Mac abandoned and dropped into it. “You’re not going to have any more theft problems when I’m done with this upgrade.”

“And you’re sure it will scare the shit out of any human thieves stupid enough to break into the hotel guest rooms, but not give them a heart attack?”

“I can’t promise that the Fae glamour I’ve got wired into this system won’t make a mortal piss his pants, but the illusion is nothing that’s going to bring the media or a huntress to your doorstep.”

Mac shuddered at the mention of the latter. “Crazy bitches. Did you know they got their girdles in a bunch when I refused to rent out my penthouse a couple weeks back after they decided to turn the Wolf’s Den into their new favorite playground?”

Laughing, Briana swiveled away from the screen. “Well that explains the naked picture of you they were circulating on the net.”

Judge, jury and oftentimes executioner, huntresses were hand-picked by Rhiannon to hunt down rogue immortals that threatened to betray the existence of Avalon to the human race. Getting on their bad side left immortals in a world of pain or dead.

Since Briana had become close friends with some of them after her oldest brother had taken a huntress as a mate, she knew firsthand how much trouble they could be. And that was if they liked you.

Apparently they weren’t fans of Mac’s.

She might have regretted mentioning it until she glimpsed the scowl on Mac’s face. It wasn’t easy to get a rise out of the laid-back wolf. “Could have been worse,” she added. “They could have Photoshopped in a really small pe—”

“Try not to have too much fun up here.” Cursing under his breath Mac headed for the door. “I’ll be in the control room when you want to check out the feed from down there.”

“I shouldn’t need to this time.” Still smiling, she turned back to the screen.

“You say that now. We both know you won’t be able to help yourself. You like to poke around down there too much.” He added something she didn’t catch, but sounded a little like room service.

She lifted her head. “Hmmm?”

He laughed. “Never mind. You’re too distracted with work and will just forget to eat anything I send up for you anyway.”

Sometimes it felt like she had four older brothers.

He paused in the doorway. “What should I tell Cian?”

“That I threatened to kick your ass in your fancy ultimate fighting ring down the hall when you asked me about it.” If she’d been more careful, Cian wouldn’t have discovered she turned to stone more out of habit than because of Rhiannon’s curse.

Mac scoffed but thankfully left her to her work.

The wolf turned out to be more right than she would have guessed. After another hour and a half of fiddling, she reengaged the security system in Mac’s penthouse and walked down the hall. By the time she reached the main room, she’d deliberately tripped the silent alarm, triggering the counter measures she’d programmed to deal with an intruder—human or immortal.

The whisper of shadow that crossed her peripheral vision was real enough to stir the predatory cat half of her. She fought the instinctive urge to drop into a crouch and shift.

The bright glow of the Las Vegas strip lit up the night sky beyond the wall of windows, making it easy enough to track the shadowy figure. Moving closer, its claws emerged from the phantom shape that had the cat snarling in her head.

Everything about the glamour looked and felt real as she watched, motionless, tracking the eerie glide that carried it toward her.

Leaving her wide-open to be jumped from behind.

Knocked sideways, the incredible force behind the unexpected attack threw her to her knees. Her claws burst through her fingertips, scraping the floor in an effort to maintain her balance.

What the hell?

Another blur of shadows materialized next to her. Only the silky kiss of awareness that teased across the back of her neck kept her animal half from pushing all the way to the surface.

Lucan.

She raised her head, watching the former knight face the menacing glamour bearing down on them. Only the top half of him seemed solid, the lower part of his muscular frame lost to the same shadowy webs of blackness that licked along the floor toward them like something out of a nightmare.

“It’s okay.” She pushed herself to her feet just as Lucan positioned himself between her and the wraith-like glamour now close enough to strike.

The system was programmed not to attack a human who could be injured simply by believing that what it was seeing was actually real. With immortals, however, the system was meant to be more aggressive. It wouldn’t take long for Lucan to realize his opponent wasn’t any more real than the Easter Bunny, but he could still be injured in the meantime.

“Lucan,” she tried again.

The rest of him seemed to evaporate on the air, and the temperature in the room plummeted.

“Disengage.”

The room brightened at the termination of the security program just as Lucan lunged forward. The phantom glamour vanished between one breath and the next, and thrown by the unexpected change, Lucan hit the floor, solid once more. The wisps of shadows surrounding him retreated, and Briana found herself staring down at the blond knight dressed in an Aerosmith T-shirt and faded jeans.

“What the hell was that?” Penetrating, green eyes locked on hers.

“Work.”

Back on his feet, he stood opposite her, searching her face. All at once she felt herself surrounded by his scent. A faint hint of iron lingered beneath the raw, dark pull of him that reminded her of the forest at night.

She allowed her gaze a moment to track down his chest and the hard wall of muscle that she spent way too much time thinking about touching, and then her control slipped back into place.

She took a step back to gain more space between them only to lose it when he countered with a step forward. She frowned at the inscrutable look on his face. “I was just testing out the modifications I made to Mac’s security system. If you hadn’t jumped me without a word, I could have told you that.”

His frown deepened and he glanced over his shoulder like he wasn’t quite sure the imitation wraith was gone. “A glamour?”

Nodding, she tried again to get a little distance between them, knowing it wouldn’t do a damn thing to soften the scent that tugged at her. It haunted her even in her dreams.

Lucan ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “I thought you stuck with human stuff. Like Dobermans.”

She shrugged. “I like to experiment now and then.” Innovating kept her immortal cliental coming back for more. A security system might not prevent an immortal from losing their head—which, along with fire and the rare mystical weapon, was the only way to kill someone like her or Lucan—but worked well as an early warning system for most.

“Experimenting? With a wraith? How dangerous was that thing?”

“Not as dangerous as you.” The real thing, she silently added, preferring not to voice where the inspiration for the glamour came from. “Might have given you a scratch or two. That’s all.”

Lucan scoffed. “It’s not me it would have scratched.”

She arched a brow at the same overly protective tone she frequently got from her brothers. Turning on her heel, she retraced her steps to Mac’s office. “I’m not the one who ended up eating the floor, unless you count when you shoved me.”

“You were just standing there.” There wasn’t a trace of apology on his face.

“I was doing my job.”

“Then maybe Mac isn’t paying you enough.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” Her smile trembled a little from forcing it. She looked away. “What are you so worked up for anyway?” In her experience the knight wasn’t easily rattled.

As if remembering that himself, his expression became unreadable and he fell into step with her. “I didn’t know Mac was increasing the security around here. No one has targeted him, have they?”

“Do you honestly think Mac would share something like that with me?” The wolf was even more stubborn than her brothers when it came to handling his own affairs.

Lucan shrugged, watching her from the corner of his eye. “Impressive, though.”

Surprised by the praise, she glanced at him.

“Why a wraith?”

Wondering if she was hearing something else besides just curiosity, she walked into the office ahead of him. “Because there isn’t a human or immortal who wouldn’t be scared to cross paths with one. No offense.”

Lucan couldn’t help what he’d become any more than she could help turning to stone during the day. Technically, she supposed she could help it now, but had been hiding it from her brothers for months. Until recently, they’d been too occupied with their mates to notice and ask questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.

“Your brother wasn’t scared of me.” Lucan stared straight ahead.

“Tristan was protecting his mate. And that wasn’t your fault, Luc.” She paused in front of the desk, not even realizing she’d reached her hand out until he carefully avoided touching her and stepped toward the window.

“I could have fought it harder.”

“And driven yourself insane in the process?”

As bad as the gargoyles had it, Rhiannon had reserved a worse punishment for those closest to Arthur. It didn’t matter that every one of Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table would have sacrificed their life for his—and many had on the bloody battlefield at Camlann—the goddess had made sure their fate was worse than death.

By enslaving every knight, forcing them to become her personal mercenaries—wraiths—they were blood-bound to complete any task they were assigned. Failure to complete an assignment triggered what some called a madness fueled by excruciating pain and offset by a mindless bloodlust.

According to her brothers, it was like watching a monster take over, swallowing the man and friend they knew and leaving behind a merciless, unfeeling beast. Finishing an assignment, one way or another, was the only way for Lucan to regain control.

“It all worked out,” she reminded him. Tristan’s mate had survived Lucan’s attempted assassination and was still keeping both humans and immortals in line at Pendragon’s, the bar Briana’s family ran.

“She isn’t alive because of anything I did.” He stared out at the Strip. “And the damage it caused…”

“My brothers don’t hold you responsible any more than I do.” Not entirely anyway. Lucan may have been compelled to kill her brother’s mate, but he hadn’t been the one who’d targeted her in the first place.

Wishing she could take away the regret in Lucan’s eyes, she contented herself with sharing the view. He glanced at her, but she kept her eyes trained on the neon lights and traffic moving below.

She wasn’t sure when she’d noticed his presence seemed to soothe the wildness inside her, but as much pleasure as she took in his proximity, she’d give anything to go back to how things used to be between them.

To a time when he didn’t go out of his way to avoid meeting her eyes and move so carefully, as though the thought of even accidentally brushing up against her was too much for him to stand. To a time when he’d been no more than her brothers’ friend—long before she’d ever wished things could be different between them.

Cian’s numerous stories of Lucan, before the knight had become another of Rhiannon’s victims, had laid the groundwork for a crush that had taken Briana by surprise. She hadn’t yet come into her immortality when they’d met centuries ago.

Their paths hadn’t crossed again until a few months ago, and not once in all that time had she stumbled across eyes such a haunting green or a smile that so tempted both woman and cat.

Lucan had nearly killed Tristan’s mate—making him persona non grata with her family—and that may have affected how he behaved when he was around Briana, but it was far more complicated than that for her.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Are you planning on running any more tests?”

“Probably.”

“Alone?”

She arched a brow. “I think I can handle a few glamours. I’ve been a big girl for a few centuries now.” She crossed to her laptop but something made her look over her shoulder at him. Was he staring at her ass?

His eyes snapped to hers, that familiar granite expression sliding effortlessly back into place right—but not before she imagined a flash of unchecked desire that she felt all the way to her toes.

“Lucan.” His name was out before she figured out what she wanted to say—what she’d let herself say.

“Say hi to Cian for me, Briana.” He didn’t waste time with goodbye before walking away, his footsteps fading into nothing.

She stared at the empty doorway long after he’d gone, then forced herself to push all thoughts of him from her mind and finish her work—a task made increasingly difficult with every chance encounter.

By the time she was satisfied with the system—which took her twice as long as it should have—she’d lost interest in fiddling with anything in the control room. She needed to get out of here, someplace she could run. She’d been ignoring the needs of her animal half nearly as long as she’d been burying herself in work, and the cat felt more on edge than ever.

It didn’t help that the ride down to the hotel’s underground parking lot took forever with guests hopping on and off at every other floor. Next time she’d remember to use Mac’s private elevator. A few floors up from the parking level, a guy in an Elvis costume got on and purposely brushed up against her. Already feeling caged in, she grit her teeth at the contact, barely curbing the urge to slash out with her claws.

He did a double take as he stepped off at the lobby—probably wondering what the hell was wrong with her eyes—and then the doors closed, leaving her alone and all too aware of how close the cat was to the surface.

Closing her eyes before she made anyone else look at her a little too long, she took a deep breath, then another. The doors finally opened and she pushed away from the back wall, walking as quickly as she dared without drawing notice.

She rounded the last row of cars, and the same slow tease of awareness caressed her senses. A heartbeat later she spotted Lucan leaning against one of the cement support pillars. He wasn’t alone.

She couldn’t have continued past them if she wanted to. Not when she realized he wasn’t just talking to the curvy redhead all but plastered to his chest—he was drinking from her.

Briana Callaghan was trouble.

It was the only thought that kept Lucan from releasing his hold on the slinky redhead curled around him. He’d been reminding himself of it long before he left the penthouse and the whole elevator ride down.

Getting as far from Vegas—as far from her—as he could was his top priority until the redhead had asked him to help find her car. Forgetting where she’d parked turned out to be the least of her problems once it crossed his mind to use the mortal to satisfy the only craving he could do anything about.

With his fangs buried in the luscious spot above her collarbone, he didn’t have to think about Briana’s silky brown hair and stunning blue eyes or imagine how soft her fingers would have felt laced with his.

From the first hard draw of the woman’s blood, his senses exploded with power. He’d long ago given up fighting the nature of the beast Rhiannon had knowingly unleashed inside every wraith when she made them require blood to survive. Without it, they risked losing control of that beast that would overtake them if they failed her the way she believed they all failed her Arthur.

Rhiannon had nearly broken him in the beginning by forcing him and every other wraith to prey and feed on others to survive. It was her he imagined was weak and helpless against him in the beginning, her blood that was spilled each time he was forced to drink from another, his hatred for himself overshadowed only by his hatred for Rhiannon.

The redhead made a sound of pleasure deep in her throat and snaked her hands up his chest, clinging to him. Her blood, rich and potent, only intensified his need, his hunger. But not for blood.

He squeezed his eyes tighter, willing away the images of Briana that crowded into his mind. He didn’t want to think about her, didn’t want to imagine it was her skin beneath his lips, her fingers sliding through his hair, her soft whimpers of pleasure.

Fuck.

If not for Briana’s glamorized wraith, he wouldn’t have lingered so long. The perceived threat to her had only sharpened the razor edge he’d been riding for weeks.

He knew better than to get that close to her. Maybe once he could have risked it—nearly had—but that was a long time ago, when he’d been convinced Arthur was untouchable.

But he wasn’t that naïve any more. Whatever hope he once carried he might someday be free of Rhiannon had died long ago, right around the same time he stopped believing in the foolish prophecy that Arthur would be resurrected when reunited with his lost sword, Excalibur.

Lucan knew it was Briana coming before she rounded the row of parked cars in the underground lot. He could have easily sent the redhead on her way and been gone himself. Instead he’d stayed exactly where he was.

There was no point in denying who and what he was. He’d stayed far away from Briana after the battle of Camlann, preferring her to remember the times they’d shared before a vengeful goddess had enslaved him, turning him into the darkest version of himself.

Had he known the feelings she’d so innocently awakened a lifetime ago would resurface a hundred times more intense, he would have done more to guarantee she never wanted to see him again.

Nothing good could come from a centuries-old longing that a goddess would ruthlessly exploit. Rhiannon would find a way to use it against him and wouldn’t care if Briana was hurt in the process.

It didn’t matter that her family had proven themselves by handing over two of the six mystical daggers that would supposedly lead to Excalibur. The goddess would never see reason where Arthur’s knights were concerned. Anything they valued was stripped from them, and he refused to see Briana suffer in any way because of him.

So Lucan stayed exactly where he was, his hands wrapped around the redhead, his mouth on her skin—and his gaze locked on Briana.

The darkness inside him stirred without warning, and he mentally tightened his control. It did nothing to temper the beast within that Lucan was starting to suspect had taken far too much interest in Briana.

Briana’s steps faltered, her eyes narrowing at the corners. The unveiled disgust on her face was exactly the response he had hoped for. He just hadn’t counted on it hitting him with the force of a battering ram.

The redhead sighed softly, and he slowly lifted his head from her neck, but didn’t let go of her, and he didn’t take his eyes off Briana.

With short, clipped strides, she stormed past him. She stopped a few cars down and unlocked her car with a stab of a button.

“When can I see you again?” Glassy-eyed, the redhead stared up at him, then frowned. She touched her neck. “Am I bleeding?”

Briana opened her car door, but instead of sliding behind the wheel, she shoved her stuff inside and slammed the door before backtracking. “Are you out of your mind?”

“What’s her problem?” The redhead slurred her speech a little, drunk on the venom in Lucan’s fangs that left his prey compliant. It would also soon make it impossible for her to remember their encounter.

The same venom was problematic to immortals, and in a gargoyle’s case would trigger the shift to animal and then stone. Only mated gargoyles could resist the automatic shift. At least Rhiannon hadn’t been so heartless as to leave the race’s young ones completely unprotected during the day.

Although indestructible in their gargoyle form, the shifters were also extremely vulnerable in those first moments at sundown when they broke free of the stone.

Briana surprised him by taking a menacing step toward the redhead, stopping only when the mortal scrambled backward. Her attention slid to Lucan. “Taking an awfully big risk here. Do you always feed where anyone could come along? Or would you just feed from them too?”

The redhead laughed, the loud sound echoing in the underground lot. “Feed from them?” She cocked her head. “How much has she been drinking tonight?”

Briana shoved her hands in her pockets, the casual gesture at odds with the feral expression. “Not too bright, is she?”

“Hey!”

Lucan roped an arm around the redhead’s waist before she got in Briana’s face. The sharp feline edge in Briana’s voice meant her cat was entirely too close to the surface, and letting a clueless mortal provoke her wouldn’t be smart.

“Let go.” She glanced down. “There’s blood on my dress. Why is there blood on my dress?” The panicked look on her face matched her frantic tone.

“Get him to pay for your dry cleaning,” Briana suggested and walked away. “And you should probably get a room next time. A few huntresses have taken an interest in hanging out here lately, and last time I checked even you had to abide by the same rules as the rest of us.”

He doled out punishments far more vicious than death, and she was lecturing him on staying on a huntress’s good side?

Leaving the redhead—who was already looking a little confused about what was happening—leaning against the pillar, he caught up with Briana.

“It can’t really come as that much of a surprise.”

“That you need blood, hardly. If I’m surprised by anything it’s that…” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Forget it.” She reached for her car door without looking at him.

He snagged her arm, turning her back around.

She growled low in her throat, her eyes gone completely cat. The startling blue depths blazed with a feral night glow. “I said, forget it.”

“You’re angry with me,” he ventured.

“Furious actually.”

“Why?” Revulsion he’d expected—counted on—but mad at him?

“Let go or lose an arm.”

Seeing as the tips of her claws were already visible, he believed she meant it. He still didn’t release her.

“You should go catch your snack before she faints.”

Lucan glanced over at the redhead, who was sliding down the pillar. Briana used the momentary distraction to jerk free of his hold. She wrenched her car door open and slid behind the wheel.

One step to the left prevented her from slamming the door. He searched her face, driven to figure out why she was so angry with him. He knew he shouldn’t care. Hell, he’d wanted her to go, and now there he stood blocking the way.

Fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, Briana cursed. “What do you want from me, Lucan?”

Everything. The word never made it past his lips, held there by the certainty that she would never be within his reach.

Without pressing her further, he moved back and shut the door. She stared at him through the window, a flicker of—disappointment? hurt?—blinking across her face. He stood motionless as she started the car, then turned away.

He was a few feet away when he froze, something on the air shifting.

Someone was watching them.

Chapter Two

Ass.

Briana gripped the gearshift, but didn’t put her car in reverse. She needed another second to clear her head. Probably a waste of time when Lucan’s proximity had shaken her so completely.

If she drove by and caught a glimpse of the redhead right now, she wasn’t sure she could contain the cat that wanted to shred the mortal to pieces merely for knowing the feel of Lucan’s hands on her.

Maybe it would be best if she waited for the pair to leave—

The back wheels of her car left the ground without warning, metal grating and shuddering as the hood buckled in front of her, the sound almost masking the snarl that escaped Briana.

She stared at the immortal crouched mere inches from the cracked windshield separating them. Even hunkered down, she could tell he was big. Over six and half feet tall big. His skin looked damp…and oiled? His black hair was cropped close to his scalp, making the Fae glyph tattooed to his forehead even more prominent. She didn’t recognize the cross-like shape, and since when did any Fae brand that part of their body?

The sword strapped to the Fae’s back surprised her. Most Fae, the oldest of Avalon’s immortals, tended to rely on their magic to defend themselves or on bargaining to trick their opponent into sacrificing the edge during a confrontation.

The stranger’s defined muscles guaranteed that he not only knew how to use the weapon, but that he’d had a lot of practice with it.

The Fae didn’t pay her any attention, his focus entirely fixed on Lucan. His lips curved in a chilling smile, that of a satisfied predator. He hadn’t stumbled across Lucan by accident.

He was hunting him.

The Fae leaped off her car, releasing a screeching war-cry. The unnaturally high-pitched noise made Briana clap her hand over one ear. She fumbled for the door handle with the other and shoved it open.

“Go!” Lucan was gone between one moment and the next, his phantom body dispersing and rematerializing behind the Fae that dove over the top of a parked truck to reach him.

Sensing the movement behind him, the warrior spun around, sword in hand. The glyph on his forehead pulsed as if alive on his skin.

Lucan slashed out with his claws, but his attacker dodged the blow.

“Leave, Briana. Now!”

Another screeching war cry brought her to her knees, making it impossible to go anywhere even if she wanted to. The cat hissed at the ear-piercing pain right along with Briana.

The Fae needed his voice box scratched out.

The vehicle closest to her shuddered as something struck it hard enough to move it a few feet. A second later something flew over her head—the Fae?—a pained groan replacing the war cry.

Throwing herself forward, she gave herself over to her animal half, knowing she risked exposing herself. Lies could be spun to explain a black panther on the loose in the parking lot. It was Vegas, after all. Explaining away the phantom shape facing off against a sword-wielding steroid junkie would be trickier.

The momentary discomfort of bones and muscles realigning as she shifted form was over before the Fae was back on his feet. His sword came down, catching the long shadows that hovered over him. Instead of dematerializing and reappearing as she’d witnessed Lucan do before, he seemed to solidify at the blow.

Victorious, the Fae pivoted to deliver a second strike. Springing forward, Briana put as much force behind the momentum as possible, connecting hard with his chest. Her claws gouged instead of maimed, but her teeth found the meaty tendons in the warrior’s shoulder as they struck the ground.

Tearing hard, she scrambled back to her feet. The smell and taste of her enemy’s blood pulsed through her, heightening the instinct to eliminate the threat. Head low, she snarled and swung around for another attack.

A sharp kick slammed her into a parked Jeep. Pain exploded along her side, but she didn’t stay down. Lucan had gone entirely phantom again, his claws making contact this time.

The Fae howled, the sound so much worse than the war cry. Stars erupted behind her eyes at the excruciating pain slicing through her head, streaking across her vision. The ground felt uneven beneath her paws, her body hovering on the verge of shutting down to avoid the agony.

The cry was silenced a moment later. Free from the weakening chains of pain, she gave chase when the Fae pivoted to retreat between two cars. He dove over a third before ducking behind another.

“Briana!”

Lucan’s voice sounded like he was underwater, her hearing still suffering from the Fae’s vocal assault. She skidded to a stop. If he was hurt and needed her…

Retreating, she padded back toward him.

“He’s gone.” Lucan peeled back the edge of his T-shirt, the movement exposing the wound that became visible as his human body rematerialized. Blood splashed on the concrete.

She growled at the sight of the injury and turned back around, scanning the parking garage. The taste of the Fae’s blood lingered, driving her to hunt and pursue her enemy. The scent of him tugged at her, giving her feline half too much control.

“Easy.” Lucan’s fingers brushed the length of her fur. “Not even the almighty tracker can follow a ghost. He’s gone.”

Instinct demanded she make sure of that, but warred with her need to stay close to Lucan. Eyes on the parking lot, she rubbed against him. She felt the cat inside her slowly retreat, leaving her in her human form once more as she crouched next to Lucan.

“You sure he’s gone?” She didn’t wait for a response. “How in the hell did he hurt you? I thought you guys were almost impossible to injure.” A trait that made all wraiths invaluable to Rhiannon, and as far as Briana knew, the goddess was the only one capable of incapacitating them.

Lucan ignored the question. “You shifted back.”

“And?” She cringed at the bloody gash along his side, guessing it was even deeper than it looked.

“You’re naked.”

“And?” Nudity was something all gargoyles grew comfortable with early on and given the time Lucan spent with first her brothers and then the Guard, he shouldn’t be surprised by that.

She ripped off a piece of his T-shirt, balled it up and pressed it to the wound.

“Do. Not. Move.” Jaw tight, Lucan avoided looking at her as he stood.

Briana resisted the urge to glance down and see just how much of the Fae’s blood she was covered in.

A car door slammed behind her.

“Here.” A blanket landed across her shoulders.

Vaguely amused, she wrapped it around herself, distracted by the blood that continued to flow from Lucan’s wound. It should have started to slow by now.

He nodded. “Don’t suppose he was just something extra special your Fae friends cooked up for your security stuff?”

“No. Dolan is good, but not that good.” And she sure as hell wouldn’t lose control of a glamour like that. “So you don’t have any idea who he was? I didn’t recognize the glyph.”

Although the mystical tattoos weren’t related to Fae family lines, they were often tied to particular territories in Avalon. The glyph on the warrior Fae’s forehead didn’t look like anything she’d ever come across. Between the Fae contacts she used for business and those she crossed paths with at Pendragon’s, she would have thought she knew them all.

“That makes two of us then.” Lucan hissed out a breath, holding his hand to his side. “Fucking burns.”

She ripped a strip off the blanket and moved toward him. “It’s not healing fast enough. You need to treat this. Mac should have something upstairs—”

“It’ll heal on its own.” Lips compressed, he stepped beyond her reach.

Fine. If the stubborn ass wanted to stand there and bleed, that was up to him. “He was hunting you.”

Seeming relieved that she was no longer trying to help him, his shoulders relaxed. Marginally. “Maybe. But he wasn’t here to kill me.”

If she knew where the Fae had vanished to, the cat in her wouldn’t have rested until she’d fucking ripped him apart.

The unexpected savagery of her thoughts alarmed her, and she mentally tightened her hold on the leash she could already feel slipping.

He searched her eyes. “Still a little blood-thirsty, huh?”

Managing a nod, Briana fisted the blanket in her hands. “So if he wasn’t looking to kill you…” she trailed off, biting down on another snarl that caught her hard in the chest. She inhaled through her mouth, doing her best to filter out the scent of the Fae’s blood and Lucan that shredded her control.

“He was playing with me.”

“How do you know?” It had looked like a genuine attack to Briana.

“A couple millennia of experience.”

“Your injury… He wanted to see if he could hurt you,” she guessed.

“Probably.”

So why had the Fae vanished instead of finishing Lucan off? “Whoever he is, he clearly wasn’t afraid that tangling with you might anger Rhiannon.”

Lucan shrugged, wincing as the movement caused him pain. “Assuming she didn’t put the Fae up to it.”

“She would do that?” It was no secret the goddess loathed Arthur’s knights, but it didn’t make sense that she’d allow another immortal to find a weakness with them. Rhiannon gained too much power—mystical objects, territory, loyalty—by hiring out her wraiths as mercenaries to risk losing them.

He offered another half-hearted shrug and a wince he almost managed to mask.

She touched his good arm. Blood still continued to ooze from his wound. “You sure it’s really healing?”

Fierce and dark, his gaze darted from her hand to her eyes. He jerked his head at her wrecked car. “I’ll let Mac know that you’re going to need a ride.”

“Wait—” That was all she got out before Lucan retreated, his shadow leaving behind only the sudden chill on the air.

Great.

Alone in the lot, she finally gave her bashed-in car a good once-over and tried not to cringe. What else could go wrong tonight?

“I can’t remember where I parked my car.”

Sighing, Briana ignored the redhead who’d come back to her senses none the wiser, and went to wait for Mac.

“Hundred bucks says he only lasts five minutes before being tossed out on his ass.”

“Two minutes.” This was followed by a giggle heavily influenced by too many shots of absinthe. The potent alcohol was a favorite among the immortals who frequented Pendragon’s.

Tonight Briana had more than her share of it buzzing through her veins. After spending the last couple of months buried in work, and then the last few days obsessively researching the mysterious Fae glyph from Lucan’s attacker—and finding nothing—she needed a night out.

At least Sorcha and Emma had thought she needed a night out.

Since Briana’s mind continued to replay what happened with Lucan in Vegas, she either hadn’t had enough to drink yet, or no amount of alcohol would let her forget that he’d deserted her without so much as a second thought.

That should tell her all she needed to know right there. Forget him and move on.

Except she couldn’t—not without picturing him with the stupid redhead. The female had been nothing to him but a means to an end—hadn’t she?—and yet thinking about his hands on her fueled Briana’s anger like nothing she’d experienced before.

“If you want to hit someone, just ask.” Sorcha rested her back against the bar and waved a hand at the crowd. The former huntress had started more than her share of brawls in Pendragon’s since she’d been reunited with Briana’s oldest brother. “I’m sure we can find someone foolish enough to tangle with you.”

“And give my brothers another reason to hover over my shoulder? I’ll pass.” Cian’s unspoken threat to do exactly that all evening had prompted her to take Emma and Sorcha up on their girls’ night out suggestion to begin with.

Now that she was out, though, and surrounded by a couple of hundred humans and immortals jam-packed in Pendragon’s, all Briana wanted to do was leave. At least at home she could work or surf the net. Something that didn’t involve pretending she was fit company.

If she stuck around much longer she would end up tangling with someone, and it would probably be one of her brothers. She knew they were worried about her, and she loved them for it, but if they didn’t take their suffocate-her-until-she-talks show on the road, she would end up lashing out at one of them.

“B?” Sorcha prompted. “Five minutes or two?”

Briana glanced up from the sketch of the Fae glyph she’d been doodling all night on napkins. Since the showdown in Vegas, she’d been showing the glyph around, hoping someone might identify it. So far only Emma had found it familiar, but couldn’t remember why or where she’d seen it before. “Who are you guys talking about?”

The question had barely left Briana’s mouth when she picked up on the familiar scent nearby.

Damn it.

“What?” Even drunk, Emma was a little too intuitive, picking up on Briana’s reaction.

“Nothing.”

Sorcha nodded to the stairs leading up to the office that overlooked the club. “The same nothing that has Cale watching over you like a papa bear?”

“Papa cat,” Emma corrected, then frowned. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?”

Briana refused to follow Sorcha’s gaze. Her oldest brother hadn’t pushed her to talk nearly as hard as Cian had. Cale preferred to say very little, waiting until she couldn’t take any more of his silent observation and caved.

The tactic may have worked when she was younger—and more than once she had dragged Cian down with her when she’d confessed whatever she’d been up to—but that was then.

Instead of confirming Cale was watching her from above, she swept the bar, trying to decide on the best escape route. One that wouldn’t give any of her brothers—or Lucan—the opportunity to corner her.

Pendragon’s was busier tonight than usual, the bar packed with bodies, some tucked close together in conversation, others gyrating against each other on the dance floor. Pulses of flashing color—red, blue, green, yellow—drenched the crowd, interspersed by flickers of a strobe light that made everyone appear to be moving in slow motion to the beat of the house band.

She wasn’t looking for Lucan, but knowing he was close made the cat stir restlessly inside her.

“Lucan has balls, I’ll give him that,” Sorcha continued as though he had been the sole topic of conversation all night.

“He’s not that bad,” Emma chimed in. She hiccupped a moment later and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Told you she couldn’t hold her liquor.” Briana said absently, holding her hand out. If she focused on her friends then she wouldn’t wonder if Lucan’s presence had anything to do with the concerns that were thankfully keeping her brothers from focusing entirely on her.

Sorcha dug a twenty out of her pocket and handed it over.

“I’m fine.” Emma slid off her stool, surprising all three of them by not even staggering. She smoothed her hands down her slinky black dress. “Cian thinks I’m fine too.”

Briana didn’t need to look to know her friend’s gaze had found Cian, who was no doubt standing right next to Cale. The pair’s mate bond was still so new they were rarely apart. Only one thing could pull Cian’s attention from his new mate—could pull the attention of all three of her brothers.

“I think they’ve spotted him.” Sorcha finished off her drink, her fingers flexing where her sword was supposed to be. Given how intimidating the ex-huntress was to even the most lethal immortals, Sorcha’s sword had been deemed bad for business.

“They won’t start anything in here.” Her brothers had a low tolerance for aggression in their club and every immortal in the place knew it.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Sorcha grinned proudly, knowing she’d started her own share of bar fights.

“And doubtfully the last.” Emma took a wobbly step, then dropped back onto the stool. “I think I’ll just wait here for your brother.” She tugged on Briana’s shirt to guarantee she had her attention. “Did I mention your brother has the most incredible—”

“Ooookay,” Briana interrupted, before she heard something that would scar her for the rest of her immortal life. “You’re cut off.”

Emma laughed. “I’m not talking about his cock. Though I have absolutely no complaints.”

Briana shuddered. “Moving on.”

Unfortunately, Sorcha took the suggestion and ran with it, pinning Briana with a knowing gaze. “We could always talk about you finding your mate and hiding that fact from everyone.”

Perfect.

Emma glanced at Briana and then at the floor.

Sorcha’s eyes narrowed. “What was that? Are you in the loop, Em?” She stared hard at Briana. “Does she know who your mate is?”

“I didn’t tell her.” Which was the truth. Briana didn’t know how Emma had pieced it together, but guessed it had something to do with the sorceress and Cian crossing paths with Lucan in Vegas a while back. Since then, Emma had given her plenty of openings to talk about it, but Briana still wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.

Sorcha’s eyes narrowed, the gesture almost masking her disappointment over being kept in the dark. “One of you two better start talking or I swear to the gods…” Sorcha trailed off, frowning at the gargoyle who shouldered his way to the bar.

The faint scent of ash lingered on the immortal despite the overpowering aftershave clinging to his skin. Dragon.

His gaze locked on Sorcha, and Briana rolled her eyes. Two other idiots had already tried picking a fight with Sorcha tonight and it hadn’t ended well for either of them. Obviously the dragon had missed how the last show ended or he would have rethought challenging the former huntress.

Briana stepped a little closer to Emma. The last thing she needed right now was Emma getting between Sorcha and the dragon the way she had with the last two. The smell of scorched jeans still hadn’t entirely faded, and as lucky as she’d been, Emma’s additional shots of alcohol since then couldn’t possibly be a good thing for her temperamental magic.

“Don’t I know you?” The dragon’s tone was accusing.

Sorcha tipped her head, considering. “You’re still alive, so I doubt it.” She turned her body, letting the dragon get a good look at the symbol on her arm band that still marked her as one of Rhiannon’s huntresses.

When Sorcha’s sword wasn’t enough of a deterrent—and any other time it usually was—immortals tended to back off when they recognized Rhiannon’s brand. Most gods either slept or couldn’t be bothered with the immortal races, but Rhiannon was the exception. Not only had she fallen in love with a human and gave birth to Arthur, but she recruited the huntresses that policed the immortal population. Few willingly tangled with those chosen to ensure humanity remained ignorant of Avalon at all costs.

The dragon apparently fell into the few category.

He bared his teeth at the sight of the symbol. His skin flickered iridescent along his jaw, betraying both his anger and the jewel-like tones of his scales. “You killed my brother.”

“You do know that as far as pick-up lines go, that’s hardly fresh material, right?”

Emma sighed dramatically. “Why is it always someone’s brother?”

A Fae close by snickered, and the dragon snarled before taking a threatening step toward Sorcha, his body shadowing her much smaller frame.

Ignoring Lucan’s teasing scent that continued to pull at her, Briana nudged Emma off the stool and back a few steps. She doubted the confrontation would escalate beyond trading insults, but if it did, Sorcha would need a little room to sweep the floor with him.

Without taking her eyes off the dragon, Sorcha shook her head. No doubt Cale was one leap from stepping in to protect his mate and she didn’t want him ruining her fun.

“Well, huntress,” the dragon began.

“Ex,” Briana felt compelled to add.

The dragon scowled at her, and she let her cat rise as close to the surface as she dared. She might not be the warrior that Sorcha was, but her brothers had made sure she could hold her own.

“Not worth it.” Emma touched her shoulder, and Briana noticed her claws were already out.

She blew out a breath, but it didn’t unlock one ounce of the tension that gripped her spine in an iron hold.

“You,” the dragon growled at Sorcha, “need to let me buy you a drink.” He grinned, and those close enough to witness the exchange let out the breaths they’d been holding. A few looked disappointed.

“Just one?” Sorcha winked.

The dragon reached a hand out, and then Cale was there, his cat in his eyes and a feral growl that couldn’t be mistaken as anything but a warning. Her brother might bend to Sorcha’s determination to fight her own battles—most of the time—but if another male looked at her too long, his claws came out.

Sorcha looped her arms around Cale’s neck. “Easy, tiger.”

Holding up his hands, the dragon backed off. “Just expressing my gratitude.”

Cale nodded grudgingly. “Try a thank-you card next time.”

With a tip of his head, the dragon disappeared into the crowd, leaving Sorcha to roll her eyes at her mate. “Was that really necessary?”

“No. But this is.” Sinking his fingers into her hair, Cale captured her mouth in a fierce kiss that had Briana on the verge of telling the pair to get a room.

The second she felt their collective attention shift to her, the same question she’d been dodging for weeks burning in their eyes, Briana mumbled something about needing to use the restroom and spun on her heel, squeezing her way into the crunch of bodies.

Next time she let herself be coerced into leaving her work, she damn well wouldn’t come here. Just because she was the youngest—and most vulnerable, in her brothers’ minds—didn’t mean she owed her brothers any explanations.

She was a stronger tracker than any of them, knew how to wield a sword equally with both hands thanks to Cian’s training, had been the one to push them kicking and screaming into the technological age, and yet they still seemed intent on believing she was somehow less capable.

When it came to their relationships with their mates, she hadn’t demanded any explanations and they certainly hadn’t offered any. More than once she’d been worried sick about what kind of trouble they’d landed themselves in. Tristan falling for a human. Cale seducing the lethal huntress sent to slaughter him for breaking the rules. Cian pursuing the sorceress he blamed for trapping him in his stone gargoyle state for a hundred years.

It didn’t matter that they’d spent centuries handling their own problems, and in the process inadvertently teaching her to do the same. The second they thought she was in trouble, they expected her to turn to them.

Given their overwhelming need to shelter her, it was surprising they’d confided the recent developments in Avalon. The growing whispers of an approaching Campaign—an immortal war to end all wars—weren’t to be taken lightly, and judging by the crowd tonight, many were completely oblivious to the fact that they might soon be forced to choose sides.

Dodging to the right to avoid a Fae and a human who stopped suddenly to make out, she slammed right into a familiar wall of warm muscle.

Briana did not look happy to see him, Lucan thought.

Even before she raised her head, her dark hair framing her face in untamed waves, tension turned her soft, warm curves hard and unyielding. He ordered himself to let go of her, to lower the hands gently gripping her waist, but it took another few seconds for his brain to get the message.

Only days ago he’d been determined to get far away from her, unable to take another moment of her innocent touching. He hadn’t needed her softness or compassion, didn’t deserve or want either, but standing this close he felt part of himself foolishly wishing for it.

Idiot.

A second before she stepped back, he could swear her body leaned into his just a fraction. More wishful thinking?

Disturbed by the direction his thoughts were rapidly taking, he took his own step back, only to be jostled toward her by the press of the crowd too absorbed in seeking their own pleasure to realize they should be keeping their distance.

Even among immortals there were rumors that simply touching a wraith was the kiss of death. Crossing paths with one was considered a bad omen for an immortal or their loved ones, as if a wraith was the equivalent to the humans’ grim reaper.

“Sorry.”

Briana tipped her head. “Are you apologizing for bumping into me, or ditching me in Vegas?”

“I needed to leave.”

“And that made it okay to vanish without a word?”

He frowned. She’d been safe at the time, or so he’d assumed. He’d witnessed how resourceful and ruthless she was when sparring with her brothers, all of whom made tough opponents.

Still, he found himself apologizing again. “I shouldn’t have left you there unprotected.”

Anger ignited her pretty blue eyes. “Forget it.”

She pushed past him, and he found himself stepping into her path. For the second time her reaction to what he’d done confused him.

“What?”

“I didn’t need your protection. I needed—” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Right now I’d just really like to know why everyone thinks I’m incapable of taking care of myself.” She looked at something above his shoulder. Probably the office.

Although he figured the statement was rhetorical, he responded anyway. “Your brothers?”

She nodded.

A burst of icy awareness snaked down his spine, and he spun around, scanning the area. Around him humans and immortals mingled and danced, no one raising anything more lethal than a glass or bottle.

A harder look revealed few Fae were in the vicinity and none of them bore the strange glyph on their foreheads. He hadn’t had any luck figuring out who had attacked him or been able to determine if they would try again. He’d been waiting for it, though, and hadn’t ruled out the possibility that Rhiannon had something to do with it.

Or was he just being paranoid?

“What’s wrong?” Her fingers touched his arm, and Lucan clenched his fist. Sensing the tension in him, Briana withdrew her hand.

“It’s nothing.”

“Like what happened in the underground parking lot?”

“That was more of a minor inconvenience.”

“Are you talking about the Fae warrior or the redhead?” She looked away the second the question left her mouth, but before he could decipher her meaning, she frowned. “I don’t suppose you and Tristan patched things up a little and no one told me?”

“Not exactly. I’m meeting Mac here.”

She sighed. “You might have stood a better chance of leaving in one piece had you gone with an alternate location.”

“Worried about me again?”

“No. I’m worried a fight will leave a mess that I’ll have to clean up when you’re all off licking your wounds.”

“You sound pretty certain they’d do some damage.”

She gestured to his side. “Knight or not, you’ve proven you can be hurt from time to time.”

His jaw clenched. “I’m no longer a knight.” Hadn’t been in a very, very long time. Whatever he’d done to deserve that honor centuries ago no longer applied.

Briana didn’t seem so convinced. “Some parts of us can never be changed, no matter what a goddess does.”

He used to think so, but knew better. “You can’t really be that naïve.”

She flinched at the sharp tone. “If by naïve you mean that I’m not afraid of being honest with myself, then I guess so.”

“Don’t make the mistake of confusing me with something noble and honorable. I’m not that man any longer.” Rhiannon had made damn sure of that.

“So you keep trying to remind me. Why is that?” Her gaze was far too perceptive.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She straightened, her brilliant blue eyes suddenly probing. “In Vegas. Was your little show with the redhead supposed to remind me of what Rhiannon did to you? Of what you think you are now?”

Glancing around for Mac gave him an excuse to look anywhere in the room but at her. “Putting on a show implies that I cared what you thought, when actually you were the farthest thing from my mind at the time.” The lie nearly caught in his throat.

Her expression betrayed nothing. Why did that seem worse than her telling him to screw off?

“I’ll see if I can get my brothers to back off for a bit.”

“No. I don’t want to be the reason there’s tension between all of you.”

She muttered something that sounded a lot like, “Too late,” under her breath. “I’ve been handling my brothers longer than you. I think I’ve got it covered.”

His fingers closed around her arm. “I don’t need you to protect me.” Even as he said it, he found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone he could trust to always have his back, to have a fierce female like Briana next to him.

“Who said it’s you I’m protecting?” For some reason the flippant tone didn’t match the stubborn gleam in her eyes. That said, she pushed through a break in the crunch of bodies and slipped away.

He tracked her through the crowd, fighting the urge to apologize—again—for being such a dick.

Better this way, he decided, turning his attention to business. He wouldn’t have been invited here of all places if there wasn’t something important to discuss. There was a reason Mac had chosen Pendragon’s and not the Wolf’s Den, and now that Lucan had run into Briana, it had better be a fucking good one.

Mood all shot to hell, he found Mac tucked in an alcove near the rear of the bar, closest to the exit. The wolf appeared relaxed, leaning back against the wall, two fingers hooked around the neck of the bottle in his hand.

Eyes locked on something above Lucan’s head, Mac cocked his head. “Do you think it will hurt?”

Used to the wolf’s vague comments, Lucan waited for his friend to get to the point.

“When her three brothers, one of whom is still extremely pissed at you, come to kick your ass?” Mac clarified. “Because I can guarantee that if you keep looking at Briana like that, one of them is going to take a chunk out of your shadowy hide.”

Knowing he’d only fuel Mac’s speculation by denying that he looked at Briana with anything but casual indifference, he surveyed the club. He deliberately avoided glancing up at the three men on the balcony leading to Cale’s office.

“Tell me why you insisted on meeting here of all places? Vegas not good enough?”

Mac shrugged. “It’s fun watching you squirm.”

“I’m not squirming.” He was deliberately not moving any more than necessary actually. He wasn’t interested in provoking any of the Callaghan brothers. He still considered them allies, if not friends, and couldn’t blame them for hating him.

Mac lowered his voice. “That wasn’t squirming with Briana a second ago?”

He shrugged. “She was trying to play peacemaker.”

“Is that all it was?” Mac didn’t wait for him to answer. “Strange that she’s been friendlier than even Cian.”

The youngest Callaghan brother had been part of the Gargoyle Guard and fought alongside Mac and Lucan. Arthur hadn’t been in favor of a unit of gargoyle protectors in the beginning, but as the fight to free Camelot and unite all of Avalon heated up, he’d relented, taking it upon himself to help train every cat, wolf and dragon that enlisted. No one had expected The Guard would become as vital to Arthur’s success as his own knights.

And then Arthur had fallen in battle and everything changed.

Cutting off that train of thought, Lucan started to press Mac again for an explanation, only to be interrupted by a burst of feminine laughter.

“They’ll let anyone in here it seems.” Mac straightened as two huntresses managed to clear a path through the surrounding immortals.

Nessa, the tallest of the two, stopped. Clearly having overhead Mac, she smiled sweetly—and flipped him off.

The other huntress with her laughed before elbowing past a Fae. “This place is packed tighter than Merlin’s ass.”

A hush fell around them, every conversation grinding to a halt at the mention of the exiled sorcerer’s name. Not even the whispered mentions of Excalibur could silence a group of immortals so effectively, and there wasn’t anyone in the room who wouldn’t shed blood to possess the lost sword.

After Arthur’s defeat, the sword had vanished, along with Arthur’s heir, Constantine. The missing knight had supposedly forged the six mystical daggers that, when reunited, would point the way to Excalibur, and fulfill the prophesy of Arthur’s resurrection.

While Lucan couldn’t deny the existence of the daggers—the Callaghans had already found two—he wasn’t any more convinced that they would actually lead to Arthur’s sword than he was of finding Santa Claus living at the North Pole.

“Is nothing sacred to those mercenaries?” Mac paused. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Although mercenary was a far more fitting label for a wraith. While a huntress represented Rhiannon’s sense of preservation and justice, a wraith represented her sense of destruction and chaos.

As long as those who petitioned Rhiannon for a wraith’s service didn’t seek to strike out at the goddess, she didn’t care what the former knights were tasked to do—the more horrendous the job the better as far as she was concerned.

Lucan angled his body toward Mac. “You sure you’re just not jealous that they’ve got bigger balls than you do?”

Mac snorted. “I’d feel free to banter about he who shall not be named, too, if I had a goddess in my corner. And stop trying to change the subject.”

“I changed the subject? You’re the one shooting your mouth off when Nessa wouldn’t need a reason to stuff your tail down your throat.”

As if she heard them, Nessa grinned and blew them a kiss, the curve of her lips bordering on rabid.

“We were talking about Briana.”

“No, before you got fixated on your huntress we were talking about what we’re really doing here.”

“My huntress?” Mac sputtered. “I’d sooner have my fur ripped off with hot wax and hand-stitched back in with a rusty needle than spend two minutes alone with her.” He took a swig of his beer. “That female is not fighting with a full armory, my friend.”

Lucan waited, knowing Mac would eventually get to the point of their meeting, and hopefully without any more questions about Briana.

“What do you know about possession?” he finally asked.

“It’s nine-tenths of the law?”

Mac snorted. “I’m talking complete possession of an immortal, and I don’t mean someone being temporarily compelled by magic. I mean full on, get into their skin and drive the boat for a while.”

“I’ve never seen even Rhiannon manage something like that.” Few gods took an interest in immortals beyond Rhiannon’s huntresses. Most of them slept now, which was fine with Lucan. Sleeping gods didn’t grow bored and war with each other out of spite, or look to the immortal races, that they otherwise ignored, to fill their ranks. If Rhiannon wasn’t waiting for Arthur’s return, she too might have lost interest in immortal power struggles.

Mac sighed. “That’s what I thought, but something, or someone, was definitely behind the wheel. The guy had no memory of what happened, just the sensation that he wasn’t alone in his own body or some crazy shit, and then the next thing he knows, he’s breaking stone at sunset on Camelot’s walls.”

“Unfortunate.” Especially since Lucan doubted the unlucky gargoyle had an alliance with Morgana.

Arthur’s sorceress half-sister, Morgana, had laid siege to Camelot with what was left of her army after Arthur’s defeat at the battle of Camlann. She hadn’t even spared time to mourn the loss of her own son before laying claim to the only real home Lucan had ever known.

With casualties in the hundreds, countless wounded and Arthur dying, it had taken too long to rally those who could still fight. By the time they could make a strategic move to stop the sorceress, Morgana had already claimed the throne, killing Arthur’s wife, Guinevere, soon after. Whatever Arthur’s remaining forces—lost without his guidance and leadership—might have been able to accomplish, ceased to matter the second Rhiannon sought retribution for her son’s death.

“You’re late.”

Lucan glanced at three men who joined them. The accusing comment, which had come from Briana’s middle brother, Tristan, was laced with a tolerance he didn’t even pretend to mirror with his expression.

It didn’t matter that Tristan’s mate had survived the assassination attempt Lucan had been bound to carry out. He’d fought the murderous instinct to kill for as long as he could.

The fact that Tristan knew he’d chosen the agony and madness of failing to complete his assignment was likely the only reason the cat hadn’t tried to take him out after their confrontation months ago.

“Let’s take this conversation upstairs.” The suggestion came from Cale, who motioned to the office above.

Lucan followed the others, his gaze lingering only briefly on the bathroom door as they passed it.

“Ass kicking,” Mac hissed under his breath, strategically putting himself between Lucan and the bathroom he was pretty sure Briana had disappeared into.

“How bad is the situation?” Cale closed the office door, sealing the five men inside the rooms overlooking the bar.

Still feeling like something was off, Lucan chose to stay close to the window where he could keep an eye on things.

As if suspecting he knew exactly what Lucan wanted to keep an eye on, Mac joined him by the window. “Too early to tell yet. What have you heard?”

Cale leaned against his desk, his two brothers flanking him. “Same as you, a few very isolated incidents of immortal bodies being commandeered. Sorcha’s waiting to hear back from a few of the huntresses to see what they know.”

Mac surprised Lucan by not even wincing at the mention of the h-word. “Not sure what help they’ll be. So far this only seems to be a gargoyle issue.”

“For now,” Cale agreed. “Or it could be that other races don’t want to appear weak or vulnerable and are keeping their mouths shut.”

Whispers of another Campaign had every immortal on edge. The last Campaign, the bloodiest war between the gods to date, had nearly destroyed Avalon and took centuries for the immortal population to recover. Already some factions seemed to be aligning for any advantage that could spare them from being a casualty of a power struggle that made the one between Arthur and Morgana look like toddlers fighting over a tricycle.

“Until we know for sure I think we should play our cards close to the vest.”

Cian grinned. “Sure you’re not being a little touchy about huntress involvement after that picture—”

Lucan cut him off before Mac’s growl became more than a good-natured fuck you. “I think Mac has trouble trusting anyone who blindly follows a goddess who screwed us all over.”

“I think some people call it loyalty. You should try looking it up.” Tristan crossed his arms, his eyes more animal than human. Everyone in the room knew his comment had nothing to do with loyalty to a goddess, and everything to do with the fact that he hadn’t forgiven Lucan for betraying a centuries-old friendship and attacking someone Tristan loved.

Patch things up with Tristan? Briana had asked. The crew of the Titanic had stood a better chance of repairing the ship before it sank to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

“That’s unnecessary,” Cian put in.

Tristan glared at his brother. “Tell that to my mate.”

“We’re getting off track.” Cale threw both his brothers a pointed look before Lucan’s presence made things even worse between the Callaghans. “We need to keep each other informed of any new developments. If this is some kind of precursor to another Campaign…”

The tension in the room jumped the second Cale voiced the same concern every one of them was feeling.

Something unfamiliar washed across Lucan’s skin, and he shivered like someone had blown an icy breath across the back of his neck.

Tristan smirked. “Scared, wraith?”

Lucan frowned. Something wasn’t right.

“Oh, that can’t be good.” Mac stared at the dance floor. “I think you guys have got a bit of a problem.”

Following Mac’s gaze, Lucan expected to see a huntress at the center of the trouble brewing below. But when the bodies packed together in the middle of the dance floor dispersed to reveal two guys staggering back to their feet, his mouth fell open at the sight of the female standing above them.

Briana.

Chapter Three

One dance. What’s the worst that could happen?

This is what Briana got for listening to Emma. Drunk Emma. The one and only sorceress who was standing at the edge of the crowd, her mouth formed in a perfectly innocent O-shape. Next to her, Sorcha and Nessa high-fived each other.

Great.

As if she needed to hand her brothers another reason to give her a hard time. At best guess she had less than a minute to fix the situation or find herself facing the Pendragon Inquisition.

Briana stared down at the two men, really wishing they’d just stay on the floor.

She knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not when one of them was the same dragon who’d approached Sorcha earlier, and not when Briana had stupidly agreed to dance with him in the first place.

Without knowing anything else about the guy, she knew he wouldn’t just walk away after getting taken down by a female. Change had been even slower to infiltrate the immortal population, and the male superiority complex was very much alive.

Maybe she should have at least held back from shredding his wingman’s shirt when the shorter gargoyle had stepped in to cover his friend’s back.

Gods, what was wrong with her?

Dancing with anyone as though Lucan would care—much less notice—was beyond juvenile.

So what if the dragon had touched her ass? She could have walked away, could have warned him about losing a few talons before overreacting and throwing him to the floor.

She exhaled slowly. She could fix this, smooth things over with alcohol. A round of drinks—or three—on her and they could all forget the minor altercation—

Emma snatched a beer out of someone’s hand and held it up. “Fight. Fight. Fight.”

Sweet Avalon.

Where was Cian when Briana actually needed him? He needed to do something with his mate before she managed to incite a full-fledged brawl.

“Just hold on a second.” Sorcha stepped up next to her.

Thank the gods. At least someone was being sensible.

The ex-huntress surveyed the two gargoyles back on their feet. “You two need to decide who’s going to take her on first.”

What?

“Rock Paper Scissors?” Nessa offered helpfully.

Forget banning swords. These two were the real problem.

“I’m not fighting anyone,” Briana hissed at Sorcha.

Nessa pouted. “Bri, you need to fight or get laid. You’re wound tighter than my Slinky.”

Everyone was wound tighter than Nessa’s Slinky. “I’m fine.” Okay, maybe fine was a slight exaggeration with Twiddle Dee and Tweedle Dragon looking at their fists like they were contemplating Nessa’s suggestion.

Nessa pouted. “Every time I’ve dropped by to give Cale a hard time lately, you’ve been too busy tinkering with your cyber toys to hang out with Sorcha and me.”

Sorcha arched a brow at Nessa. “Cale? I thought you came by to see me?”

Briana sighed inwardly.

“Getting a rise out of Cale is just a perk.” Nessa grinned, but the smile vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.

The two of them froze, and Briana’s cat growled a soft warning in her mind. Neither of the men opposite them had moved, and no other obvious threat was visible, yet…

“Stay with the lush.” Sorcha nodded to indicate their trouble-magnet sorceress, then she and Nessa melted into the crowd.

Oblivious to the potential problem, Emma took a swig of the beer in her hand, but the dragon had his head cocked as though he, too, felt something was off but couldn’t pinpoint it.

Only half the surrounding immortals seemed to notice. The rest were too busy shoving their tongues down each other’s throats.

And Briana thought Sorcha and Cale needed to get a room. Damn.

“Now I remember why the glyph looked familiar.” Emma beamed. “The Gauntlet.”

Briana gave her a blank look, trying to remember if that was supposed to mean something… Oh crap.

“How about you dance with someone who can handle a real wild cat like you?” An arm swept around Briana’s waist, drawing her back against a hard, sweaty body.

Distracted by Emma’s revelation, she managed to curb the cat’s instinctive response to do some damage, but the look on her face must have warned the other two gargoyles off. Like her friends, they disappeared into the crowd.

She would have been relieved except she’d already spotted her brothers making their way toward her. Great.

Driving her elbow into the meaty gut behind her, Briana managed to gain enough wiggle room to turn and face the moron who probably deserved to lose an arm for snapping her bra strap like a bratty twelve-year-old.

Or twenty-one-year-old. The human in front of her couldn’t be any older than that.

“Guess I don’t need to Rock Paper Scissors anyone for you.”

Definitely a moron.

“Look, buddy,” she began.

Someone put a hand on her shoulder. Out of patience, she spun and—taking a page out of Sorcha and Nessa’s book—led with her fist.

And nailed Lucan in the jaw.

Lucan’s head snapped back, the unexpected blow—and even more surprising, the force behind it—sending pain radiating up the side of his face.

Where the hell had that come from? He knew he had pissed her off—twice now—but he still hadn’t been expecting that. He wouldn’t have lowered his guard with anyone else, and yet every time he turned around Briana kept getting closer than he anticipated.

He rubbed his jaw, making sure she hadn’t dislocated anything. He definitely preferred her fussing over his injuries compared to her explosive right hook.

Straightening, he finally got a good look at her. “Briana?” She still looked human, but her claws were out and all he could pick up on when he met her gaze was pure, lethal predator.

“Bitch is crazy.” The kid behind her stumbled backward, but she didn’t acknowledge that she’d even heard him.

A smart move on the mortal’s part. Lucan really didn’t want to have to save the ignorant fool. He’d noticed how much of Briana’s animal half had surfaced in the parking lot, but that didn’t come close to the aggressive tension radiating from her now.

“He’s still standing. Couldn’t you have hit him a little harder?” Tristan squeezed past a couple who were too busy feeling each other up to make room for him, then stopped next to Lucan.

Briana snarled, positioning herself between him and Tristan.

“Whoa? What the hell did I do?” Tristan shot him a furious look over Briana’s shoulder, as though her overreaction was somehow Lucan’s fault.

They might not be on friendly terms, but he and Tristan were in complete agreement about this. What. The. Hell.

The feather-light tease of old magic pulsed under Lucan’s skin, a lazy, seductive beat, but with Briana looking ready to go for Tristan’s jugular, he ignored the sensation to deal with the problem at hand.

This was the exact situation he wanted to avoid in the first place. He knew how much she loved her brothers and that each of them would sacrifice anything to protect her. Although his own family had been dead for centuries, Lucan knew how important that bond was and he refused to see it threatened because of him.

Briana might believe she was doing the right thing by stopping old friends from fighting, but not like this. Immortals could theoretically live forever, but time was still an enemy, ruthlessly snatching away the moments to set things right.

Tristan was smart enough not to touch his sister. “Talk to me, B.”

“You are not going to hurt him.”

His attention darted to Lucan. “Is there something going on that I need to know?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Briana answered at the same time.

Not bothering to repeat himself—Tristan would never believe him over his own sister—Lucan stepped to the right.

Briana didn’t let him get far, snagging his hand.

“Give her some room, bro.” Cian joined them, careful to give Briana a wide berth. He cocked his head, considering. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

Lucan frowned. He who?

Before Briana could respond—and Lucan was betting she wasn’t in much of a conversational mood—Cian spun around.

A short distance away, Emma stood smiling at her mate. The second Cian zeroed in on her, all concern for his sister melted away. Gaze locked on his mate, Cian’s expression revealed only…arousal?

What the hell were they serving in this place tonight?

“Cian?” Tristan waved his hand in front of his brother’s face.

Ignoring his brother, Cian crossed to Emma and scooped his mate over his shoulder. She giggled and gave them a little wave as Cian carried her away without a backward glance.

Tristan threw his hands up. “Is everyone losing their fucking minds?”

Tracking Cian’s progress to the stairs leading to the office, Lucan voiced the one question that wouldn’t leave him alone. “Who was Cian talking about?”

“What?”

“When he said to Briana, ‘He’s here’.”

“I think you have me confused with someone in the know.”

Something small and black flew past them and landed on the floor near their feet. Tristan picked it up, letting the lacy black bra dangle from his finger tip.

“You guys bring in some new entertainment tonight?” Lucan asked, noticing another piece of lingerie land on the stage at the foot of the lead guitarist.

“In what universe do you think Sorcha would ever let Cale get away with something like that?”

“Good point.”

Judging by the frown on Tristan’s face, the cat didn’t want to be in agreement about anything. “We need to go.” He reached for Briana.

Lucan felt the tension slice through her like it was his own, and snatched her hand away before she raked her claws down her brother’s chest.

Tristan stared at her hand. “Briana?”

A look of horror crossed her face, and she spun away from Tristan.

“Hey,” Lucan coaxed, tugging gently to get her attention.

Her fingers curled around his wrist and she turned her body into his, hiding her face in his chest. The hold she had on him was both vulnerable and intimately possessive. Rising up on her tiptoes, she murmured something that sounded like, “Better,” and drew her forefinger along his jaw.

A shiver raced up his spine. He fought the urge to close his eyes and concentrate fully on her touch, all too conscious of Tristan glaring at him. If not for the cat looking like he was ready to rip Lucan’s throat out, he might have leaned into the palm curving his cheek.

And why would he be that stupid?

The question drifted through his mind, but the longer he stood next to her, the less he cared about it being a bad idea.

Briana bit her lip, drawing his attention straight to the mouth he had no business staring at, let alone entertaining wicked thoughts about. How many times had he wondered if her breath would still catch right before he kissed her?

Tristan eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp enough to tear Lucan open from neck to navel. “Take your hands off her.”

Briana snarled and locked one arm around Lucan’s back, the message to her brother crystal clear—no one was separating them. Not without a fight.

Trying hard to ignore the sluggish warmth trickling into his bloodstream like a narcotic, Lucan scanned the room for an objective third party and came up empty.

“Look, whatever is happening is affecting her too.” If he kept talking, maybe he wouldn’t think about using his mouth for anything else.

“And what if it starts affecting you?”

If Tristan hadn’t realized it already was—that it was likely affecting all of them—then Lucan wouldn’t be stupid enough to point it out.

“I’m fine.” For now. Later was definitely up in the air. “You need to find Mac and figure out what the hell is going on.” Cale and Cian would be useless with their mates distracting them.

The crowd had filled in the space created during Briana’s showdown with the dragon, most of the surrounding people in various stages of kissing and groping each other.

“Sure,” Tristan snapped. “I’ll just send up a flare and hope he spots it.”

The longer they stood there, the more people joined the action. In less than ten seconds two T-shirts and a pair of underwear hit the floor. And that was only in the immediate vicinity.

Tristan shuddered and tossed away the boxers that hit his shoulder. “Jesus.”

Ten minutes tops and almost everyone in here would be naked. Lucan’s own clothing clung to his skin, weighing him down.

“Even the music has stopped.” Tristan’s voice barely registered. Lucan was too busy tugging at his shirt, seeking any kind of reprieve from the smothering material.

Stopping him, Briana slid her hand up his arm, curling her fingers around his biceps.

“I should probably stay with her…” Tristan trailed off, scanning the room for something and not finding it. His mate probably. “You could probably find Mac faster than I could.”

Again, Briana twisted around to growl at her brother. Lucan gripped her waist in case she lunged at him.

Tristan held up his hands. “Or not.”

Seemingly satisfied with her brother’s response, she leaned back against Lucan and tipped her head up.

“I’ve got her.” He said it without looking away from Briana, already half-drunk on the vibrant blue eyes watching him so intently.

“Don’t even think that I’m leaving her alone with you.”

Lucan had already won the argument. Tristan just didn’t know it yet.

Despite the teasing sweep of her finger across the top of his hand, Briana was very much still paying attention to the conversation and rolled her eyes. “Go.”

Tristan glanced between the pair of them. “So help me, if any of her clothes come off…” The unfinished threat hung between them.

“They won’t. She’ll be safe with me.”

“Vow it, wraith.”

“I give my word.”

Tristan looked less than convinced, but his attention kept wandering. “If anything happens to her, I’ll shove your sword so far up your ass it will tickle your fucking tonsils.” He lingered another few seconds, though Lucan didn’t notice the exact moment he disappeared into the crowd.

Briana had turned and twined her arms around his neck, fitting her body snuggly into his. “Dance with me.”

“I need to get you out of here.” He vaguely recalled that was part of the plan. However, leaving would mean sacrificing the feel of her molded so perfectly to him.

Briana smiled, slow and sexy, and shook her head. “We should stay. Dance.” She went up on her tiptoes and her cheek grazed his.

“There’s no music playing.”

Her fingers raked the ends of his hair, and he damn well knew that wasn’t part of the plan.

“We don’t need music for the kind of dancing I have in mind.”

The air around him grew thicker, hotter. If his clothes felt uncomfortable before, now they rubbed his skin like sandpaper.

“This way.” Grinning, she laced her fingers through his, tugging him away from the stripping masses. More than once they had to step over people already on the floor, tearing at each other’s clothes.

Mac?

Lucan watched his friend disappear down the corridor ahead of them and guided Briana in the same direction. With every step the drugging sensation of magic turned his thoughts a little fuzzier.

He glanced down at their linked hands, keenly aware of how soft and small her fingers felt intertwined with his own. He tightened his grip, and felt his chest expand when she squeezed back.

They hadn’t been this close in centuries. Everything since then had changed—except the way he felt about her. The girl she’d been had teased without malice, explored without fear, shared without expecting anything in return.

But the woman…she tested boundaries, laughed without restraint, loved fiercely.

And he couldn’t figure out how he’d made it through the centuries without her.

“Luc?”

Stepping into the pool of florescent light beyond the Employees Only sign, he paused long enough to look at Briana—and stopped in his tracks.

Forget Tristan and Mac. Forget the whole damn club.

Nothing was as important as being with her. Only the certainty they’d find a room along the corridor ahead stopped him from pressing her against the wall and seeing if her mouth tasted like peaches. The sweet scent had been driving him crazy since they’d left Tristan behind—

Fuck.

He closed his eyes. There wouldn’t be any tasting of anything. He’d promised she’d be safe with him. Betraying Tristan’s trust after all they’d been through was unthinkable.

After what he’d done, he’d have to be out of his mind to sabotage the very weak truce with the Callaghan brothers by giving into his attraction to a woman he would only hurt.

He needed to get Briana outside. Now.

In front of the last door before the exit, she stopped him. “Lucan?”

Would the sound of his name on her lips forever be a silken sweep of breath across the back of his neck? Getting space between them seemed the only sensible move, but everything about retreating from her felt…wrong.

She didn’t give him a choice. “Wait.” She hooked a finger in the waistband of his cargo pants and tugged.

His knees bumped hers and he flattened his hand against the door beside her head. It bought him just a couple of inches—not nearly enough with her body so warm and welcoming.

She trailed a hand up his chest, the path of her fingers sinking into the shirt he half wanted her to tear off him.

No, he corrected a second later, there was no half about it.

Alone with her for only two minutes and he’d never been so tempted to go back on his word. He’d sworn to keep her safe, but even he knew that sheltering her with his body didn’t count as keeping his vow.

Sweet Avalon, he was in trouble.

“Touch me.” Briana caught his hand, placing it over her heart, and the strong, steady beat slowed the wild drumming of his. “Now lower.”

His eyes snapped to hers.

“Don’t make me beg, Luc.” She whispered the words against his lips, bringing with it that tantalizing peach scent.

“We can’t.”

“Says who? You want to. You’ve always wanted to.” It was spoken with such confidence he was sure she must have read his mind countless times.

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Like it wasn’t a good idea at the festival?” The innocent question was a million miles from the seductive way she teased her thumb between her breasts, silently urging him to follow the same path.

He thought about lying, or pretending he didn’t remember the night he’d been so blindsided by his attraction and kissed her. And he hadn’t stopped there. Wouldn’t have stopped until she was locked beneath him, her nails raking his back and his cock deep inside her, night after night, if he hadn’t remembered he didn’t have the luxury of pursuing her.

And in all the years since, nothing had changed.

“I could have hated you for abandoning me.” She pressed her lips to his jaw, apparently recalling that night as clearly as he did.

“You should have.” He’d certainly hated himself for it. Maybe if she had, he wouldn’t crave her touch until it was a hunger that gnawed at him relentlessly.

“Tried. Tried for a long time. Didn’t take. Doesn’t matter now.”

“Briana—”

She bit down on his lower lip, letting him know her cat was playing with him. “Kiss me, Luc. I’ll go crazy if I have to spend another moment trying to remember what it feels like.”

His blood turned molten in his veins. He opened his mouth, but whatever half-hearted objection might have been perched on the tip of his tongue disintegrated the second her stunning blue eyes met his.

So beautiful. He cupped her cheek, his thumb gliding across skin so soft he could spend years learning every inch of her.

Kiss me.

Her words ricocheted around his head, slicing clean through the last of his restraint. He could barely remember why he was fighting the urge to take whatever she was willing to give him.

Hadn’t he waited long enough? Denied himself even the most innocent touch when every part of him wanted her exactly where she was—in his arms?

“Please—”

He opened his mouth over hers, and the first touch of her lips—soft and scorching—burned through him hotter and brighter than a flare. The heat seared all the way down to the bone as he dragged her into a kiss much faster and harder than he planned. Slowing down briefly crossed his mind, until she gripped his shirt and moaned.

Silky strands of her hair caressed the back of the hand he hooked around her nape. Every bold sweep of her tongue against his jerked at the chain keeping his darkest hungers staked deep within.

He pressed her harder against the door, skimmed his hands up her sides, then slipped them beneath her shirt. Gods, he needed to touch her. Touch all of her. She shivered, and he broke from her lips to explore the slender curve of her neck.

A couple stumbled into the end of the hallway but never made it any further. Not when the woman was pushed up against the wall, the Fae’s hand between her legs, pushing her skirt up.

Lucan twisted the door knob, wanting to have Briana alone. The door gave way only a couple of feet, and then slammed shut. But not before he got a glimpse of the guy inside.

Mac?

“Get your own damn room,” a woman snapped through the door.

“Nessa?” Briana laughed, then didn’t give either of them a second to contemplate what was happening on the other side of the door. “Come on.”

She shoved the steel exit door open hard enough to slam it against the back alley’s brick wall. The damp night air rushed over his skin, but did nothing to cool the fever raging inside him.

A fever that burned hotter when she threw him a tempting look over her shoulder.

The door hadn’t even shut and her mouth was beneath his. He wasn’t sure who reached for the other first—didn’t care. Once he anchored his hands in her hair, as though it could keep him grounded somehow, he cared only about memorizing the drugging taste of her, the way her lips parted eagerly under his.

Not even the ambrosia he’d drunk from the Grail on the day he became one of Arthur’s immortal knights tasted as incredible as Briana’s kiss.

The voice that cautioned him something was wrong was little more than a whisper now, drowned out by the roar of an ocean during a rising storm.

A silky murmur of approval hummed in her throat, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, stroking deep. Her fingers slid beneath his shirt, skimming his stomach.

He groaned. “I promised your brother—”

“That my clothes would stay on,” she finished for him. “Nobody said anything about yours.” She yanked off his shirt.

Finally.

She ran her palms up his chest. Pure feminine satisfaction sparked in her eyes. His own slid shut at the lazy exploration, her nails lightly raking on her second pass.

“Briana—” He bit down to silence the fierce demand she not play with him. He didn’t know how much he could take.

She stilled. “Haven’t you craved my touch?” She massaged the back of his neck before sinking her fingers into the ends of his hair, tugging just hard enough to make sure he was paying attention.

Had Excalibur itself materialized next to him he couldn’t have looked away from her.

She nipped his jaw. “Has wanting to touch me again never crossed your mind?”

“It’s never been far from it.”

Her cat showed in her eyes, and then she leaned in to seal her mouth over his. Need jack-knifed through him, and he locked his arms around her. With her body flush against him there was no longer a need to imagine the warmth of her skin, the softness, the sweetness—forbidden thoughts that haunted his dreamless sleep.

She somehow edged closer, her thigh sliding between his, and then there was nothing soft or sweet about his thoughts. Once more they revolved about her nails sinking into his bare back as he sank into her.

Hands in her hair, he pressed into her welcoming body, letting her know exactly how hard he was for her. She nipped his jaw, his ear, his bottom lip, pulling him into her mouth and sucking hard enough he ached to see her on her knees, sucking something far more sensitive.

Slipping his hands down to her ass, he lifted her off her feet, grinding her against the length of his cock.

“Luc…” The rest of her words were lost as he recaptured her mouth, sliding his tongue between her lips as slowly as he let her body slide back to the ground.

She tipped her head to the side, inviting him to tease a slow path to her shoulder.

The pounding of her pulse echoed in his head, and he lingered over the sweet spot. He dragged his teeth along her skin, rocked by a wave of hunger so intense it nearly dropped him to his knees.

Gods, he needed so much from her. So much.

The moment his fangs pricked her flesh, Briana whimpered, and he froze.

No! Fighting the ferocious need to hold onto her, he spun around.

She cut off his retreat, surprising him.

“I need to go.” He could feel the hunger invading every cell in his body, taking over. Where the hunger pulsed the deepest, the monster within him stirred. Lucan could again feel its interest in Briana when only blood and death ever appealed to that part of him.

She shook her head. “You can’t leave.”

“If you knew the thoughts running through my head you wouldn’t be standing in my way.” Thoughts he’d be wise to share, if only to make her understand. To make her run. If he lost control…

“You want to drink from me.” No fear or revulsion. Only…curiosity? “Don’t deny it.”

He wanted far more than just her blood. Always had. Which was why he needed to get as far from her as he could. He hadn’t dared touch her in centuries for fear of the consequences. If anything happened to her…

He should have left her with Tristan.

All too aware of the darkness pushing closer to the surface, Lucan made a move to go around her.

She growled, blocking his path once more. “You swore to keep me safe.”

“I thought you didn’t need my protection?”

Briana edged toward him like the lethal predator carefully buried beneath gorgeous blue eyes pleading with him to stay. “But the one thing I can’t protect myself from is you.”

He closed his eyes, his hands clenched tight at his sides. “Right now I pose the biggest threat.”

“Bigger than you think.” She touched his face, her palm cool on his overheating skin.

He hissed out a breath.

“Your eyes are nearly black, Luc. How far do you think you’d get before the madness drives you back to me?”

Fear, cold and sharp punched through his chest. It wasn’t losing himself that he feared as much as the wraith’s rising interest in Briana.

For years after Rhiannon had enslaved him—changed him—he’d been unaware of exactly what she’d done. He’d wake to the aftermath of destruction the wraith had unleashed when Lucan lost control, no longer able to fight the compulsion to follow Rhiannon’s orders.

As the centuries went by he’d learned to recognize the monster’s presence, its awareness. It’s determination.

And right now the wraith was determined to be close to Briana.

“If you give in now, you won’t lose control,” she pressed.

“You don’t know that.” The words were like blistering rocks in his throat.

Her lips whispered over his, her gaze reassuring. “And you don’t know that I’m wrong.”

He shook his head. “What you’re asking…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought aloud. She couldn’t possibly understand that if he opened that door, he couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t get hurt.

Briana forced her pulse to slow. She studied his face carefully, trusting her instincts. “You promised to keep me safe. You will. I trust you.”

She wasn’t afraid of Lucan, but even the depth of the haunting shadows in his eyes troubled her. Of all the things Rhiannon had done to Lucan, gradually stripping him of his faith in himself was the worst, and Briana could kill her for it.

But he was here now. With her. She’d waited too long to watch him walk away from her again. She’d been so careful not to think about him, as though avoiding it would somehow change things.

She’d spent months denying what she felt to her core—Lucan was her mate.

She wanted to tell him, wanted to soothe the scars she knew ran deeper than she imagined. She wanted to hear the steady beat of his heart when she fell asleep in his arms, see the lazy smile curving his mouth when she woke there.

She wanted to love him.

Lifting her hands to his face, she ran her thumb across his bottom lip. “Be with me.”

His eyes slid shut. She reached up, pressed a soft, lingering kiss to each closed lid. He trembled in her arms, strong and warm and just maybe feeling the same way she was, like if they let this moment pass it would never come around again.

And she couldn’t bear the thought of that.

Sliding her palm along his jaw, she swept her mouth across his, willing him to kiss her back, to want this as much as she did.

His hands gripped her shoulders, his lips parting beneath hers—

Lucan pushed her up against the wall, his whole body pinning her in place, immobilizing her. The unexpected move rattled her feline half and left Briana off balance. Once she caught her breath and tipped her head up, her chest threatened to seize up on her again.

Pitch black eyes held her in a death stare, the intensity competing with the almost painful hold he had on her.

Lucan was gone, she realized, or at least he wasn’t the one in control.

She knew only scant details of the darkness inside him that Rhiannon had created when she turned him from a knight to a wraith. Cian had told her only that it used to be like blacking out for Lucan, though the passing centuries had given him greater control.

But how much? Would he be able to stop himself if his dark half decided to drain her of blood entirely?

Knowing she couldn’t afford to ever fear this side of him, she chose to put her faith in the man and monster that held her heart in his hands, and boldly met Lucan’s eyes. Whether he was in control or not, he needed to know she wasn’t afraid of him or the wraith.

“Every skilled predator knows you should at least show some teeth when you’re trying to scare someone.”

The feral slash of fangs he offered didn’t frighten her. Neither did the way he stared at her throat as if he could bite it clean through. Not even the cat, who’d snarled at the wraith glamour in the penthouse, seemed concerned by the predator she faced now.

Because both woman and cat were convinced he wasn’t a threat.

“You can’t scare me.”

The last word was snatched away as he spun her around, pressing up against her back and pinning her arms above her head. Limiting her range of motion might have annoyed the cat if not for the heat of his body holding her in place.

He let go of her wrists to close his hand around her throat, but didn’t squeeze.

Determined, she craned her neck to look at him over her shoulder. “Plan on using your sword next?” Maybe she was naïve not to fear the wraith, but she hadn’t been lying when she told Lucan that she trusted him.

All of him—for better or worse.

A cold smile curved his lips, his dark gaze trained on her mouth. Head cocked, he drew his thumb across her cheek and then her bottom lip, as she had done.

“Do it,” she murmured, not entirely sure what she was asking. A million butterflies back-flipped in her stomach and she was sure her heart skidded to a stop when his brows crashed together.

She tipped her head, exposing her neck. Both the man and the wraith needed to know she didn’t submit as a sign of weakness, but one of trust.

Slow and possessive, his fingers trailed the path between her shoulder and her jaw. He leaned closer, his mouth hovering just below her ear, and she bit her lip, trapping her whimper inside. She refused to let a single sound shatter the moment.

Drugged by the seductive stroke of his fingers, she let her eyes close. He drew a circle around and around the thumping pulse-point below her jaw. Anticipation curled through her in silken waves, surprising her.

She’d never thought of him biting her, barely let herself think about kissing him. And now her whole body teetered on the edge of a desire so foreign and overwhelming she could barely stand still.

A shiver broke across her skin, leaving her hot and cold and every skin-tingling degree in between. Tension vibrated through his iron-clad frame and the fingers at her throat hesitated.

When she finally dragged her eyes open, she found herself staring into eyes a pure, rainforest green. He’d come back to her.

“Briana,” he whispered. He lowered his mouth to hers, working her over with such exquisite softness every nerve ending threatened to short circuit.

Seconds melted into minutes, each pass of his lips hotter, slower.

The back of his hand caressed her cheek, then he carefully turned her around, their bodies touching at every possible junction along the way. Holding her gaze, he slid his hand under her shirt.

She bit her lip when he didn’t take his time exploring, but boldly cupped her breast, his thumb circling her nipple. Already hard, the tip ached as he played and tugged before he freed her from her bra altogether. The heat of his palm made her moan, but not nearly as much as the possessive kiss he claimed a heartbeat later.

Short circuit? Her body was in full-blown overload, and Avalon help her, she was willing to go up in flames as long as he didn’t stop.

Unable to keep her hands to herself, she indulged the need to smooth her hands over the defined planes of his chest. He murmured her name against her lips as drops of rain hit his skin, beaded and trailed down to the waist of his pants.

Hypnotized, she watched the progress of those drops, blinking through wet lashes as the raindrops gave way to a shower. Neither of them moved, and his attention didn’t once waver. She’d been waiting so long for him to look at her like this—like he’d finally found what he’d been searching for.

Taking full advantage of that, she drew one nail down the middle of his chest. A glance was all it took to see how hard he was, his arousal pushing at his zipper.

His jaw tightened with the first scrape of her claw down the seam of his cargo pants, and he dropped his forehead to hers. “Have an itch you need to scratch, kitten?”

“Mmmm. All six feet of him.”

He laughed, the rough pitch betraying how easily he could surrender to the cravings she had knowingly forced him to face. “And if he bites?”

“I heal quickly.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

There was no time to interpret Lucan’s meaning. His mouth branded her skin, devouring her with a lazy, slick suction where her neck and shoulder met.

Arching into him, she found him with her hand, her fingers barely closing over the hard length of his cock before he snared her wrist.

“Maybe we should slow down and think this through.” Despite his words, he brought her hand to his mouth, pressing a wickedly hot kiss to her palm.

The ache for him deepened until it hummed under her skin. “It’s nothing we haven’t thought about before.” Thought. Dreamed. Craved. How she’d managed to last this long without touching him was a mystery greater than the origins of the Lady of the Lake.

“Foolish thoughts,” he whispered, his voice almost pained.

“According to who?” She rolled her hips, shamelessly rubbing against him.

“The goddess who holds my life in her hands.”

“She’s not here now, is she?” Her breath came faster as he slid a hand between her thighs, and then the buttons on her pants were open.

He bypassed her panties altogether, finding her damp for him. Satisfaction curved his lips in an arrogant smile. She gripped his shoulders, keeping him close. His thumb slid across her clit, rubbing in tantalizing circles that soon had her clawing at him for more.

Pleasure licked along her nerve endings and she moaned low and soft. Every fantasy she had dared to indulge was nothing more than a shadow compared to the taste of rain on his mouth, the teasing drag of his fingers up the inside of her thigh. And the way he watched her slide deeper into the delicious pleasure.

“If you stop…” The threat was left unfinished as Lucan stole her words, her next breath from her lungs.

Stole another piece of her she’d never get back, and all she could do was moan against the mouth that closed over hers hard and fast. The mindless swirl of his fingers between her legs drove every thought from her head. Every thought except for how incredible he would feel deep inside her.

Slower, then faster, he circled and stroked, spreading her wetness back and forth across her clit. Long glides of his fingers parted her folds before and after each slick swirl, slowing each moment she felt release within her grasp.

She moaned against his lips. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Then we’re nearly even.”

Feather-light now, his touch drove her mad. The more she hungered for it, the more he teased, like water continuing to dance away from a live wire at the last second.

Deliciously frustrated, she cupped his face, bringing him closer. “Please…”

Hunger and heat tangled inside her, tightening like the softest silk across her skin.

“Lucan…” Sweet tension clamped down on her muscles, holding her body prisoner as an explosive release rocked her.

“Easy.” Lucan’s arms kept her trapped against the wall when her legs would have given way.

Heart racing, she spared only a moment to catch her breath and then moved to help the rough hands that tugged at her pants, pushing them farther down her legs.

“I need to be inside you.”

Gods, she needed that too, needed him so much—

Something banged into the wall behind them.

“There you are.” Cian’s voice exploded into the night, and Lucan froze. “I hope you know where Briana disappeared to or Tristan will have your balls for brunch…”

Shit. Briana met her brother’s gaze over Lucan’s shoulder.

“Oh good. You found them.” Still half drunk, Emma stumbled outside after him. Unlike Cian, the sorceress wasn’t surprised to see them together, but when she glanced at Cian, realizing what they’d interrupted, she sobered. “The enchantress responsible for tonight’s orgy has decided to be a good girl.”

Cian’s jaw made a popping sound. “The spell was broken a few minutes ago.” Briana could almost hear the buzzer going off in Cian’s head like one of the game shows he loved as he realized who her mate was. “Well, fuck.”

Chapter Four

“Emma!” Briana prompted, tugging her pants up. If anyone could shut her brother up before he made everything worse, it was his mate.

And judging by the distant look on Lucan’s face and the way he held his body away from her, worse wasn’t that far off. He hadn’t released her, but his expression had already shut her out.

“Cian.” Emma tugged on his arm.

“Tristan… Oh, shit, Tristan.” Cian whistled. “Now I know why you didn’t say a damn thing.”

Of course her brother would choose this moment to verbalize his little epiphany.

“Go!” Briana snapped.

Moments ago she would have wished for someone to tell Lucan what she hadn’t had the courage to do for months now. One look at the granite hold he had on his expression, and she knew hearing it wouldn’t make a difference.

He’d already made up his mind to pull away.

The door clicked shut behind Emma and Cian, and somehow it sounded so much louder than being slammed open.

Without a word Lucan fixed her pants, then turned to grab his shirt. “We should go inside.”

Somehow she knew the fact that he wasn’t bolting immediately wasn’t a good sign.

“Your brothers will be worried about you,” he added.

After what just happened, he was thinking about her brothers? Second by second the euphoria that had left her breathless moments ago drifted away, and the harder she tried to hold on to it, the faster it slipped through her fingers.

She finally found her voice in the midst of the choking disappointment rising inside her. “And you wouldn’t want them to think you bailed on me.” No, he’d wait until he turned her over and then he’d retreat into the shadows. Again.

“I promised—”

“So that’s it? You want to just go back inside and act like none of this happened?”

He took a moment to meet her gaze. “The less your brothers know the better.”

“And then what? You disappear like you did in Vegas?” She couldn’t do that again, couldn’t watch him vanish knowing it could be weeks or months before she saw him again.

But there was really no stopping it, was there? The wraith’s black eyes were more welcoming than the hard expression Lucan wore now.

No. She wouldn’t watch him abandon her again, leaving her to face the dozens of questions her brothers would fire at her.

She strode past him, bypassing the door altogether.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Lucan caught up with her, his shirt back in place but ripped at the shoulder. Probably from her claws. “We need to go inside.”

“Maybe you do, but I don’t.” The one thing she needed wanted to pass her off like he’d fulfilled his obligation and be on his way. She couldn’t face her brothers right now, couldn’t stand the thought of them feeling sorry for her because she’d chosen the one man she couldn’t have.

She couldn’t pin down the moment both woman and cat recognized Lucan as her mate. For some gargoyles it was an instant awareness while it took others time to realize how deep the connection ran, not unlike the way humans fell in love. And some denied the truth, refusing to see the bond that attraction, biology or fate—maybe all three—conspired to set in place.

But once a gargoyle chose their mate—intentionally or instinctually—the bond was unbreakable.

“Briana—”

“Don’t.” She had known where this was headed the second Cian had burst into the alley.

“Don’t what?”

She pivoted coming within an inch of colliding with him. Her throat ached from holding onto the emotions tearing her up. “Don’t act like it was all because of a spell.”

“How else do you explain it?”

The cool, indulgent tone left her shaking her head. “You know it was more than that.” She’d seen the way he’d looked at her, felt the tenderness as much as the hunger when he’d touched her.

The rain came down harder, pelting her skin. She blinked through wet lashes, willing him to say something—anything that would stop the ache in her chest from cracking her wide open.

“What do you want from me, Briana?” Impatience flared in his eyes.

Hurt and anger boiled inside her, sweeping away the longing she’d clung so hard to. She raised her chin. “The truth.”

“The truth is that I’m nothing more than the pawn of a goddess and neither one of us can ever forget that.”

“No.” She took a step toward him, sliding her hands up to frame his face. “It doesn’t have to be like that. We can find a way—”

“Don’t be stupid. There is no way and even if there was…” He let out a breath, then pulled her hands away from him. “Whatever you thought you felt, it was nothing more than a spell.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he snapped.

She shook her head, the sting of tears burning behind her eyes. “I know you want to be with me.”

He let go of her hands. “Like I wanted to be with you back then?”

At the festival centuries ago…when he’d broken her heart.

Flinching, she stumbled away from him. “This is different.” It had to be.

His gaze softened and eyes that had held such heat and desire reflected only pity now. “Not for me.”

Briana retreated beyond his reach, every step threatening to break her. “Then I guess you were right.” She forced the words out, forced herself to believe them. “You’re not the knight I remember.”

“I was never the knight you remember.” He turned his back on her.

His name rose to her lips, but she pressed them together until they burned. She didn’t wait for him to reach the door before she turned away. He didn’t try to stop her when she walked away from him this time, and she didn’t expect him to.

He’d made his choice.

Go after her.

The compulsion pounded through Lucan’s brain until he wasn’t sure if it was the wraith’s need or his own.

He glanced back at the empty alley, his gut twisting hard. He shouldn’t have let her walk away like that, shouldn’t have…

Fuck! He drove his fist into the brick wall. The sound of bone cracking and the flare of teeth-grinding pain that followed didn’t compare to the weight of longing and guilt crushing his chest.

“If you need to hit something, I can go find Tristan.”

He glanced over his shoulder where Mac stood just inside the door. Lucan faced the wall again, bracing his hands on the wet brick, wishing the sight of his bloodied knuckles could make up for what he’d just done to Briana.

He cleared his throat. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” The door shut quietly as Mac joined him in the alley.

Lucan didn’t bother asking where the wolf had left his shirt. Half the Pendragon’s crowd was probably in the same boat. His own shirt was ripped, a stark reminder of what happened between he and Briana. He closed his bleeding hand, welcoming the bite of pain.

“If it makes you feel better, whatever you’re thinking about yourself, Briana is probably being much more creative.”

He shot his friend a dark look.

“You could always go after her.”

“And say what? Sorry some bitch goddess turned me into monster that could just as soon kill you as kiss you?”

“Actually,” Mac began, sinking onto a crate and resting his head against the wall. “I was gonna suggest ‘sorry that some enchantresses fucked with everybody’s head tonight’.”

Lucan blew out a breath.

“But your story is much more interesting.” He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “I wasn’t so far off the mark earlier, was I?”

“Does it matter? Like you said, an enchantress fucked with everybody’s head tonight.”

Mac nodded. “Maybe not everybody’s.”

Lucan flexed his good hand, thinking about punching the wall again. Briana had been affected by the spell, same as everyone else. He’d watched the change come over her inside the bar. Maybe for a minute there the past and present had blurred the lines beyond the enchantress’s magic, but that was all.

“Spell or not,” Mac added, as if reading his mind, “what else could you tell her? That you’d move heaven and earth to find a way to be with her?” Mac shook his head. “That would give her nothing but false hope and put her at risk.”

Lucan said nothing.

“Rhiannon would just as soon compel you to kill Briana if she thought it would hurt you.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he snapped.

Knowing that was the only thing that held him in check when she’d walked away. He didn’t deserve her. He knew that. But when he was with her, when he held her close enough she felt almost a part of him, he could almost convince himself that someday he’d earn the right to claim her as his own.

“Once the spell fully wears off…” Mac trailed off, frowning. He glanced at the door, and Lucan wasn’t sure they were still talking about him and Briana anymore. “Do you know what I loved best about Arthur?”

The change in subject had him watching Mac carefully. “That you could drink him under the table?”

Mac laughed. “That he persevered. First with his childhood and that bitch of a half-sister, proving to everyone, even himself, that he was a force to be reckoned with. Then with wielding Excalibur and uniting everyone, winning Gwen.” He gave Lucan a rueful smile. “And going to war with Mordred. It didn’t matter what it was, he always found a way.”

“Arthur’s gone.”

“For now,” Mac said quietly, “but what he taught us, what he believed in, stuck, for better or worse.”

“You just said—” Lucan cut in, knowing what Mac was getting at.

“I know what I said. I know that Briana staying far away from you is best for her. I didn’t say that it was best for you.”

Lucan couldn’t bring himself to argue the point, letting silence fall between them.

Mac let out a breath and nodded to his hand. “What’s up with that?”

Lucan stared at the cuts still oozing blood and frowned. They should have begun healing already. He touched his stomach, reminded of how long the wound from the Fae warrior had taken to heal.

He ripped off a section of his shirt to wrap around his hand.

“Where are you going?”

Not until Mac spoke did Lucan realize he’d started down the alley. “I have to make sure she gets home okay.” He couldn’t stay here and pretend that the hurt in her eyes when he’d insisted he didn’t feel the same wasn’t already haunting him.

Mac stood and walked toward the door. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Briana clenched her fists until her claws bit into her palms. Despite the cold rain, the few tears that managed to escape scalded her cheeks. Soaked, and shivering from everything but the rain, she forced herself to keep walking, embracing the anger over the hurt—anything to keep from feeling like she was broken inside.

In the back of her mind she knew there was something else she needed to think about, something important, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything other than replaying the scene with Lucan in her head.

The rain didn’t ease until she was a few blocks away from Pendragon’s. She could have used her phone to call for a ride, but that would mean facing questions she couldn’t answer. Preferring to be alone, she stuck with trudging through the rain, fighting the cat’s instinct to return to Lucan’s side.

Gargoyles became one of the Forgotten, those forever locked in their animal form, for less than being shunned by a mate. Would that happen to her? Would her animal side eventually become so unstable that she’d ignore her humanity altogether? Would the cat gradually coax her into hiding away from the rest of the world, until she forgot everything but sheer animal instinct? Or worse, pose such a risk to others that she’d need to be put down?

A flicker of movement ahead snagged her attention, and she ground to a halt on the sidewalk. A dot of green blinked like a drunken firefly, weaving through the dark toward her.

The cat growled, having had its fill of magic for one night. A dozen feet away the dot stopped, hovering mid-air. Maybe it was harmless—

“Briana!”

Lucan? She didn’t turn at the sound of his voice. Like a missile locked on target, the dot shot toward her. The burst of green slammed into her chest, knocking her off her feet.

She braced herself, anticipating a collision with the unforgiving sidewalk—and bounced on a soft mattress instead.

Heart pounding, she rolled off the bed and dropped into a crouch, her claws raking the stone floor beneath her.

Gone was the dark rainy neighborhood she knew as well as any program code she built from the ground up. No closed store fronts, parked cars or dim street lights barely holding the night at bay.

She didn’t recognize the sparsely furnished room she crouched in, her gaze skimming over the stone walls, aged wardrobe and marble vanity tucked in one corner.

If this was in any way her brothers’ idea of a joke, one of them—possibly all three—was going to lose a few entrails. It would be poor timing on their part, and she couldn’t imagine that after hearing Lucan was her mate that they’d be up for playing games.

Wary, she stood—and immediately winced. She carefully tugged at her damp cargo pants until she exposed the brand on her hip.

What the hell?

The symbol inked into her skin in black and red mirrored the cross-like Fae glyph she’d been unable to identify. Except now she knew it wasn’t Fae in origin at all.

It was the symbol of the Gauntlet.

She shook her head, struggling to recall what bits and pieces she knew of the millennia-old competition. One hadn’t even taken place in her lifetime. She studied the glyph closely.

Emma could be wrong. The sorceress had been drinking after all. The symbol might not have anything at all to do with the Gauntlet, immortal games that always signaled the start of the next Campaign.

It made sense though. With some talking about Avalon being on the cusp of another Campaign, the next Gauntlet couldn’t be far away. The deadly competition always marked the start of a war that left only casualties and no clear victor. Campaigns simply ended when the warring gods grew bored of fighting.

Her stomach churned at the possibility, but she didn’t let herself jump to conclusions. Maybe she’d drawn the glyph wrong or maybe Emma was way off base. Whoever had brought her here—the same Fae warrior who attacked them in the underground lot?—could have simply liked the look of the glyph.

Lucan.

He’d called her name, hadn’t he? On the street before she’d wound up here. Or had she imagined that?

How could she have been so wrong about him? And so supremely stupid to let herself believe maybe he felt the same way.

How many times would she open up to him only to have him throw her feelings back at her like they didn’t matter? She should have learned the first time instead of foolishly convincing herself things had changed because he was her mate.

She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

She took a deep breath, then another. If she wanted to figure out where she was and why she’d been brought here, she needed a clear head. She couldn’t afford to think about what happened or where that left her.

Instead, Briana focused on her surroundings. Her gaze slid over the furniture once more. The wooden door opposite her was the only way in or out of the room unless she counted the mirror on the vanity.

If it had been enchanted by a Fae she could use it to cross the veil into Avalon. That was assuming she wasn’t already in Avalon. The room didn’t offer any clues either way, making it impossible to rule anything out.

Across the room, the door creaked open.

Tension snapped down her spine and she instantly sifted through the new scents—dampness, earth, ash. A dragon probably. And…wet dog? Obviously a wolf had been in the area. Were they her captors? Or had others been taken?

Wary, she approached the door. Outside the same dull gray stones lined the hallway, the corridor stretching on in both directions with no visible end.

Following the dragon and wolf scents, she went right. She passed three other empty rooms, then took the stairs she only noticed when she was a moment from toppling down them. She backtracked a few steps, briefly appreciating the illusion that made the staircase appear to be part of the hallway.

The curved staircase made it impossible to see an attack coming more than a few feet in advance. She’d made few enemies compared to her brothers, but her family’s support of Rhiannon by entrusting the goddess with two Arthurian daggers they’d found had pissed off a good number of immortals.

Some immortals simply didn’t believe Rhiannon wanted to see the prophecy of Arthur’s awakening fulfilled, insisting she craved Excalibur’s power for herself. Which didn’t make sense to Briana, seeing as Rhiannon was already a goddess.

Other immortals had decided they were better off giving their loyalty to Morgana. It didn’t seem to matter that the traitorous bitch had pitted her own son, Mordred, against her half-brother. Briana didn’t know if the sorceress had insisted on her son leading their army or if Mordred had advocated for the position, eager to meet his uncle on the battlefield. Arthur and Mordred had only crossed paths once during the endless fight over Camelot, in the final battle that claimed both their lives.

Since Camelot was now a cesspool of the lowest, most disreputable immortals, some thought it was better to align with a power-hungry sorceress who made it no secret she wanted to rule all of Avalon, than an unpredictable goddess who had already meddled in immortal affairs too much.

Keeping close to the wall, Briana continued her downward trek long after she knew the stairs should have ended. She glanced back at the wall sconce she just passed, noting the height and path of the melting wax on the thick candle. Moments later she passed an identical candle. And another one.

“Nice trick,” she murmured to no one in particular. Hoping she wouldn’t spend forever trying to reach the bottom, she kept moving.

Avalon’s catacombs were famous for their ever-changing tunnels that kept immortals from finding their way out. The massive amounts of magic absorbed by the sanctuary the Fae had built to escape the first Campaign left many wondering if the endless caverns were actually alive.

Having never ventured beyond any entrance to the catacombs, she couldn’t be certain she wasn’t trapped in the massive caverns below Avalon’s surface. The castle and staircase didn’t match any description Cian had shared after getting lost in the catacombs with Emma only months ago, though.

Or were they just another illusion?

She got her answer a few moments later when she reached the bottom and the stairs spilled out into a modern foyer of a mansion right out of some Beverly Hills reality show.

Briana spun around. The stone staircase was gone, replaced by a glossy white marble staircase with a polished oak railing that disappeared to a floor above.

She didn’t know whether to be impressed or creeped out, but was definitely leaning toward the latter.

Passing through a large room with a huge flat-screen television, leather furniture and a variety of gaming systems that would have made Sorcha and Nessa wet their panties, Briana paused in the doorway to a dining room.

Beyond that she found an immaculate kitchen, another entertainment room, two bathrooms and a weapons room. Given how easy the weapons were to find for someone who’d been snatched off the street, she wouldn’t be surprised if they were magically safeguarded, or like everything else, an illusion.

That didn’t stop her from strapping two daggers to her calves and tucking a gun at the small of her back. Bullets couldn’t kill an immortal unless they had the kind of firepower behind it to remove a head, but the weapons gave her a small measure of comfort.

If someone could abduct her so effortlessly—and judging by the ten chairs in the dining room she wasn’t alone—then her assailant’s magic wasn’t anything to underestimate.

Heading toward a glass door that appeared to lead outside—appeared being the key word under the circumstances—she paused in front of a mural that looked sculpted right into the wall.

Layers of paint so thick they appeared three dimensional captured a bloody battle in the midst of a storm. At first glance she thought it was the fields of Camlann, a battle her brothers had fought in, Cian right on the front lines. But when she caught a glimpse of females among those perpetually locked in battle or lay wounded or dying on the muddy earth, she realized it was a Campaign.

At one time she’d envied the women in the mortal realm who’d been able to pass themselves off as men to take up arms. As determined as she’d been to join the Guard with Cian, she’d had to settle on using her strengths as a tracker far away from the battlefield, where females supposedly didn’t belong. If there had been even a remote possibility she could have masked her scent from the rest of her race, she would have disguised herself to take up a sword for Arthur.

The women in the painting, however, didn’t fight for the ideology and peace that Arthur had brought to Avalon and Camelot. The women bravely facing down enemies in the painting fought for their lives, pawns in a war fought among the gods.

If there truly was another Campaign brewing, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind Rhiannon would expect Briana’s family to fight for her.

Dismissing thoughts of the goddess and the haunting mural, Briana slipped outside.

Warm sunshine beat down on her the moment she stepped away from the door. She closed her eyes, indulging in the feel of the skin-tingling rays that warmed her skin.

She’d only risked stealing a few precious moments of sun in recent months, not wanting anyone to know she no longer needed to turn to stone at dawn. If woman and cat had chosen anyone but Lucan as her mate, she wouldn’t have hidden the truth from her brothers.

One good thing about her unexpected disappearing act was missing out on Tristan’s reaction to the news. Cian wouldn’t be able to keep the discovery to himself for long. He hadn’t wasted any time telling Tristan and Cale after he’d learned the truth about her controlling her shift to stone. She didn’t expect less now that her brother knew exactly who her mate was.

But once they knew, how long before one of them foolishly said something to Lucan? Or had the damage already been done? By now all three of them could have cornered Lucan not realizing that the news would mean nothing to him. If he’d felt sorry for her in the alley, she didn’t want to think how he’d look at her once he knew the truth.

The sensation of being watched crawled across Briana’s skin.

Senses primed, she ventured a little closer to the wall separating the grounds from the jungle that looked to stretch on for miles. Nothing crouched above, waiting to pounce, but the tease of magic that washed over her was unmistakable.

Vines as thick as her wrist hung from blossom-covered trees that bordered the manicured lawns and courtyard. Branches reached for the top of the wall and the flowers pulsed in shades of pink, red and blue, their leaves stirring in a breeze Briana could only see but not feel.

A security system.

Anyone who thought to leave through the jungle would likely find themselves snared in a net of twisting vines—possibly poisonous ones. Maybe not lethal, but strong enough to severely weaken an immortal.

More movement to her right had her pivoting to identify the potential threat. Across the courtyard a giant fountain poured water into a wading pool. The water spilled from it into a larger one made for swimming. On the other side of the water’s glassy surface, she spotted someone through the trees.

Pulse picking up speed, she skirted the edge of the pool. Keeping the castle masking itself as a mansion—or vice versa—in her peripheral vision, she cleared the trees.

A wave of power crackled on the air, raising the hairs on the back of Briana’s neck.

The woman’s dark hair blew in another empty breeze that didn’t touch the large, black-haired immortal opposite her. Flickers of iridescent color brightened his skin.

Briana had found the dragon she’d scented earlier.

“Scared, pet?” The dragon’s tone was bored and directed at the female opposite him.

The woman—a sorceress judging by the ball of blue fire that appeared in her open palm—cocked her head. “Do you think anyone’s pet would spend thirty-five hundred dollars on a pair of boots you just singed without the courtesy of a warning first?”

Something about the way the woman held herself struck Briana as familiar. Emma?

“The fire was the warning.”

“Dragons.” The brunette rolled her eyes. “All fire and brimstone. Have a little imagination once and a while. Might help you shake that predictable reputation you have.”

“Roasting little girls like you is how I earned my reputation.”

The laughter that burst out of the sorceress helped Briana put it together. Not Emma, but her infinitely more powerful twin sister, Elena.

“Really?” Elena stared at something on her hand. “Damn it. I just got this manicure yesterday.” She sighed. “I thought Kellagh the Black earned his reputation from abandoning his men when he realized Arthur might lose the battle of Camlann.”

The dragon betrayed no surprise that Elena had recognized him. Which was more than Briana could say for herself at hearing who the gargoyle was.

Rumors had abounded for centuries that the gargoyle traitor had become one of Morgana’s favorite mercenaries before his dragon half took over, leaving him as one of the Forgotten. Stories were still told to young ones that the bloodthirsty black dragon would snatch children right out of their bed if they didn’t mind their parents.

Kellagh the Black was here? Wherever here was.

“Briana, have you met Camelot’s feared dragon?” Elena sounded like she was talking about a harmless teddy bear.

Surprised that Emma’s twin had recognized her when they’d only met in passing once or twice, Briana only nodded. Elena wasn’t exactly one of her favorite people, seeing as the sorceress had trapped her brother Cian in his stone gargoyle form for over a hundred years. Cian had been willing to forgive her for the sake of his mate, but Briana wasn’t quite as quick to let it go.

Elena turned her back on the dragon, openly dismissing him as a threat. Her eyes narrowed at something over Briana’s shoulder. “Behind you.”

The vague warning came a heartbeat after Briana realized someone was stalking her.

“Briana!”

Lucan collided with a stone wall where the rainy street had been only moments before. Water dripped off him and the sword he’d drawn the second he’d witnessed her thrown backward.

And then she’d vanished before his eyes.

“Briana!” Ignoring the burning at his lower back from being struck by something, he spun around, scanning the unfamiliar room.

Where was he? And where the hell was Briana?

“I must have been a very good girl this year, and it’s not even Christmas yet.”

Lucan turned at the voice, spotted a woman perched on the edge of the bed next to him. He held his sword to the female’s throat. “Where is she?”

Innocent blue eyes blinked up at him before compressing ever so slightly at the corners. She lifted a hand to the sword, her fingernails grazing the blade. “Is she your female, this Briana?”

“No.” Claiming Briana that way placed an importance on her that would have too much potential to be held against them.

Ignoring the sword, the blonde peered up at him. “Then you’re fair game.” A carnal smile curved her glossy lips as a heady, sensual undercurrent hummed on the air, one that didn’t faze Lucan in the slightest. Enchantress.

He lowered his sword, but didn’t vanish it. “Did you bring me here?” As far as he knew, enchantresses didn’t have that kind of power.

She cocked her head, giving him a thorough once-over that reminded him of livestock being purchased at auction. “If I say yes, will you take off your pants?”

He gave her a hard look.

As if finally taking notice of the sword only inches from her face, her eyes widened in terror. “You’re a wraith.”

“And you’re about to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

She scrambled away from him, sliding off the massive poster bed. “I woke up here.”

“Are there others with you?”

“Like your Briana?” Disdain dripped from her words as though the enchantress had already made up her mind to hate Briana despite her apparent repulsion of him.

With a stiff nod, Lucan surveyed the room furnished similar to his old chambers in Camelot, then headed for the door.

The enchantress tripped after him, careful to keep some distance between them. “So you don’t know where we are either?”

“Not yet.”

She hesitated, then followed him

He blocked the door. “Stay here.” Here where she stood less opportunity of stabbing him in the back.

The Lady of the Lake’s wanton daughters were known to favor bed sport over other pastimes, but that didn’t mean he could dismiss her as a threat entirely. After the trouble at Pendragon’s tonight, he’d had his fill of enchantresses.

The reminder twisted him inside. The look of pain and betrayal on Briana’s face when he’d said he didn’t want to be with her, that he never had…

It wasn’t her fault that she’d been caught up in the lust-fueled magic. He should have chosen his words more carefully or waited for the spell’s effect on her to fully wear off. He shouldn’t have lashed out that way, but a spell or not, he couldn’t let her believe they could ever be together.

And then she’d been snatched away right in front of him.

If Rhiannon was responsible then he had only himself to blame. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the moment he’d dared give into the feelings Briana awakened in him, she’d been attacked and snatched away.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword to the point of pain.

“You’re not leaving me here.”

Lucan ignored the enchantress, too intent on finding Briana to worry about whether the other immortal stayed or followed him.

Her steps trailed his at a cautious distance as they descended a never-ending staircase at the end of the hall. He’d purposely allowed the shadows of his phantom form to trail at his feet, guaranteeing she didn’t get too close.

Had he realized how long it would take to reach the bottom, however, he would have locked her in the wardrobe. Either the female didn’t have enough sense to be quiet, considering they’d been abducted, or she assumed talking was of no consequence when she could attempt to seduce their captor into releasing her.

Lucan half hoped a troll had been responsible. Even an enchantress, who wasn’t exactly known for being selective about who she they slept with, would struggle with seducing one of Morgana’s experimental beasts.

“Seva.”

He’d refused to respond to anything the enchantress said, hoping his silence would discourage her endless chatter. So far it hadn’t taken. Sometime during their trek down the staircase, she’d forgotten to be afraid of him. Maybe another flash of his sword would remind her.

They finally reached the bottom of the steps, and he frowned at their modern surroundings, immediately glancing at the staircase behind them that no longer looked the same.

“My name,” she clarified. “It’s Seva.”

Lucan ignored that too. He didn’t know what he was doing here, but it wasn’t to make friends. He’d find Briana and figure out a way to get her back to her brothers.

Seva moved ahead of him, straight into the kitchen. “By the gods, I’m starving. You’d be surprised how hard multiple orgasms can be on the body. I really need to get my energy levels back up.” She opened cupboard doors, then a walk-in fridge. “Jackpot,” she called out. “Are you as hungry as I am?”

He waited for her to think that through.

She finally poked her head out of the fridge, her fingers curling protectively around her throat. “Please tell me you’re not hungry.”

He deliberately let his gaze linger on her neck, then moved on to explore the remaining rooms.

“Oooo, let’s go outside. I think they’re playing games.”

Lucan swung around. “Who?” He joined her in the doorway.

“Them.” Seva walked outside ahead of him, shielding her eyes with her hand. “Do you think she knows that wolf is stalking her?”

He followed her gaze past the pool, to the trees that nearly hid a group of immortals and the wolf creeping up on a brunette with her back turned.

Briana.

Chapter Five

On instinct, Briana twisted around to face the threat, her senses locking down the scent of a wounded wolf—fresh blood and damp fur—unprepared for how close the other gargoyle was.

The impact knocked her backward, the wolf’s front legs like granite battering rams to her chest. Toppling backward, she managed to jam her own legs up, using her feet to throw the wolf clear of her body as she hit the ground.

Using the wolf’s momentum, she carried through on the backward somersault that left her in a crouch, her claws scraping the pavement. A glimpse of familiar, star-shaped white fur on the wolf’s hind leg kept her in place.

“Vaughn?” The cat continued to snarl in the back of her mind, but in annoyance instead of aggression. Her feline half remembered all too well the games of hide and go pounce she and Vaughn had played growing up.

She hadn’t seen him in at least two hundred years, though. Not since his parents were killed by Morgana during the last rebellion to reclaim Camelot. Arthur’s half-sister had been merciless when it came to punishing those who’d risen up against her. The dozens of gargoyles and human slaves who’d survived the unsuccessful attempt to take back their lost city had been publicly executed.

Vaughn would have died with his parents if they hadn’t begged him to get his younger sister far away from the fight when it was apparent that Morgana’s army might win.

Conscious of Elena and the dragon watching, Briana stood and approached Vaughn. He shifted back to his human form with the same iridescent shimmer that accompanied every gargoyle change. His dark hair hung in stringy pieces across his forehead, not quite hiding his intense cobalt eyes. Dirt and dried blood covered his body, but not enough to mask the scars that marred his skin.

What the hell had happened to him? Had he taken his parents place in the rebellion that, despite dwindled numbers, continued to make things difficult for Morgana?

She took a step toward him.

Lucan materialized in front of her, blocking her way as he drew his sword.

Briana sucked in a breath, her body tightening under the onslaught of surprise, relief and hurt that pummeled her. She thought she’d heard him on the street, but couldn’t quite wrap her mind around him being up here too.

She forced herself to take a step back even though the cat wanted to rub against him until he ran his hands down her flank. The woman wasn’t nearly so welcoming, the sting of his rejection still too fresh in her mind.

“Lucan, don’t.”

Vaughn snarled at the press of the blade against his throat. “I don’t think your friend plays well with others, B.”

“It’s okay.” She touched Lucan’s arm, the muscles more rigid than the sword easily capable of taking her friend’s head. The familiar etchings on the blade made her frown, but the questions that came with the discovery were forgotten when she noticed the material wrapped around his knuckles was stained with blood.

Lucan’s gaze shifted to her—his eyes more black than green—and stared just long enough to remind her of what had happened between them only a short time ago. Her heart slowed to a painful rhythm that made her chest ache to hold his gaze.

He finally turned his attention back to Vaughn even as he spoke to her. “You know him?”

“He’s a friend.” A reckless childhood friend who’d chosen the wrong moment to stalk her the way he had when they were kids.

As her tracking skills had improved, Vaughn had found it increasingly difficult to take her by surprise. No doubt he would gloat over this minor victory, regardless of their current predicament. Getting in trouble had never stopped Vaughn from appreciating the adventure.

Angling his body toward Briana, Lucan kept his sword where it was. “Are you hurt?”

She held onto the pointless, Do you care? that rose to the tip of her tongue. There were more important things to deal with than the emotions running just as hot and sharp as they had in the alley behind Pendragon’s.

Vaughn flashed his teeth in feral warning at Lucan.

“Maybe the wolf needs a rabies shot.”

Briana glanced up in search of the voice, eyes widening at the sight of Nessa in one of the blossom-covered trees nearby.

The huntress perched on a gnarled limb. The red shirt she wore with her black pants had been ripped along one shoulder, barely held together where claw marks made both sides of the fabric nearly see-through.

Had Mac done that?

A vine slithered around the limb next to the toe of Nessa’s knee-high boot, but either the huntress didn’t sense the tree’s innate magic or she wasn’t threatened by it. The vine skimmed her boot just as she dropped to the ground, the tip of it lashing out and just missing her back.

Briana made a mental note to give all the blossom-covered trees a wide berth as Lucan finally lowered his sword, giving Vaughn the opportunity to stand.

“A rabies shot and clothes,” Elena added. “I have no interest in seeing the pup’s dangly bits.”

Vaughn angled his dark head, his grin as cocky as ever. “Best show you’ve ever seen.”

“If I wanted to see a real purebred specimen, I’d go to a dog show.” A burst of blue formed in Elena’s palm. The sorceress closed her fist and fired it like an all-star pitcher directly at Vaughn.

Her friend staggered back from the force of it, then clutched to his chest the towel that materialized, laughing. He glanced at Briana. “I think I just fell in love with the rookie.”

Elena made a gagging sound.

Briana’s head spun with the surreal turn of events. It still felt like only moments ago she and Lucan had been alone, her body on fire and her heart ready to make any sacrifice to be with him.

Between one scorching moment and the next, everything had come crashing down, leaving her scraped raw and forced to face the harsh truth she’d been denying for months—she and Lucan had no future.

She’d been in denial for weeks, convinced that if she didn’t think or talk about him then she wouldn’t have to deal with the situation. If she didn’t acknowledge he was her mate, she could stay in control of her feline instincts and keep her heart intact.

How blind she’d been.

Lucan turned his back on the others. His gaze flicking down her body then back up. “Okay?” he mouthed, and she couldn’t decide if she was grateful or not he kept the exchange between the two of them.

She managed a nod despite the temptation to admit she was anything but okay. She didn’t care to have the surrounding immortals know how shaken up she was—a group of immortals who wouldn’t come together on their own under any other circumstances.

Could Emma be right? Had they all been marked to compete in the Gauntlet?

The reality of that possibility was nearly as troubling as her own fate now that Lucan had made it clear where they stood.

Putting some much needed distance between herself and Lucan, she edged closer to Vaughn, her gaze falling on the same Fae glyph branded on the back of his shoulder. He wrapped the towel around his waist and turned his attention to the already healing wound on his leg, distracting her from the glyph.

Had he been shot? “What happened?”

“Hunting or fighting,” Nessa guessed her eyes narrowing in speculation.

“There are no rules against either, huntress.”

Briana had to drop her gaze over a foot to notice the Korrigan who’d joined them at some point.

Who would be next? The Easter Bunny?

As crazy as that sounded, she couldn’t rule anything out at this point. Highly dependent on their magic, Korrigans left their territory about as often as the fictional fluffy-tailed, chocolate egg lover. Beyond their borders it was far more difficult for them to entrance and enslave other immortals.

Barely four feet tall, the fairy with reptilian red eyes smelled faintly of rotting oranges. The cat snarled softly at the back of Briana’s mind. There was no way to know how far they were from Korrigan territory or how strong his magic was here. She kept from making direct eye contact knowing it would give the Korrigan a distinct advantage if he was as powerful here as his home.

So a wolf, cat and dragon gargoyle, a sorceress, huntress, Korrigan, wraith and an enchantress—Briana finally spotted the blonde wearing a clingy red dress that made the shimmery fabric appear painted on—all together in one place.

The only immortal race missing was the Fae. Did that explain who their abductor was? It certainly offered no clues to explain why Briana knew some of those gathered, and knew them fairly well. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

The Korrigan strode right up to Nessa. “What has your bitch goddess done now?”

“Back the Tonka truck up, short-stack. Nobody said anything about Rhiannon being responsible for this.”

Elena smirked at Nessa’s insult, but her expression quickly morphed to one of distaste as the dragon lowered himself to the ground, his back resting against the stone half wall that separated one section of the courtyard from another.

He closed his eyes and tipped his face up to the sun.

The sun… Oh shit.

She shot a glance at Lucan from the corner of her eye. He watched the dragon intently, unveiled fury darkening his expression until he looked right at her.

“Kellagh the Black!” Nessa growled.

Briana wasn’t usually grateful for the huntress’s innate need to go looking for a fight, but she was all for whatever kept Lucan from asking questions.

Nessa reached back for the sword she would have removed in Pendragon’s, and stalked toward the dragon as though her missing weapon changed nothing. Nessa and Elena had the same provoke and move-in-for-the-kill style of causing trouble that had made the two both friends and rivals since Emma had introduced them.

While Briana appreciated the distraction, she also knew it wasn’t a good idea to let things get too far out of hand considering no one knew what was going on.

She stepped into the huntress’s path. “Now isn’t the time.” It wasn’t by chance that they’d ended up here together. Something or someone had intentionally brought them here. Someone powerful enough to override a wraith’s blood tie to a goddess and likely a huntress’s ability to travel by thought alone. “Can you leave?”

Nessa scoffed. “And turn my back on Avalon’s biggest traitor?” Venom dripped from her words. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the dragon. Aside from the one questioning glance he’d thrown at Briana, Lucan, too, had kept his gaze locked on Kel. While his expression wasn’t nearly as murderous as Nessa’s, there was no mistaking the banked fury in Lucan’s eyes.

Kel folded his arms across his chest, unfazed by Nessa’s hostility.

“Are you anchored here?” Briana pressed.

Nessa glared at her, them seemed to consider the question. “Yes. I can’t flash.”

“Disappointing,” Kel drawled. “I’ve always wanted to see a huntress’s rack.”

“Don’t waste your time.” Elena cut in before the huntress lunged for him. “He’s just blowing smoke up your ass. Pardon the pun.” She shot the dragon an innocent smile over her shoulder.

Nessa didn’t look sold on the idea of leaving the dragon alone, but made no move to engage him at the moment.

Briana let out a breath, surveying the group and their surroundings. Aside from the brand only two of them wore as far as she could tell, there were no other signs they were about to be pitted against each other in a competition for an object of power that had the ability to affect the outcome of the next campaign.

“The sun is up.”

Whatever reprieve she’d been granted had just run out and Lucan wanted answers.

Vaughn whistled. “Startling observation skills, Holmes. Where did you find this guy, B?”

“He’s a friend of the family,” she answered, although friend no longer fit the role Lucan filled in her life. Neither did the fantasy she’d foolishly indulged in before reality had come crashing down around her.

The only thing worse than her brothers pressing her for details about her mate would be Lucan doing the same. There was no point in telling him anything when he’d been very clear about his feelings.

Elena strolled between her and Lucan, keeping both the dragon and Vaughn in her peripheral vision. So she considered both of them a threat?

The sorceress glanced at the sky. “An illusion.”

“It’s real.” Kel countered.

“We don’t even know where we are.” Briana tried changing the subject. If Lucan had to learn the truth, she’d prefer it not to be surrounded by a group of immortals that would find a way to use that knowledge against them. “We could be in the catacombs for all we know.” No one knew just how strong of an illusion the endless caverns and connecting tunnels could fabricate.

Kel arched a brow. “Clearly you’ve never felt the sun on your skin then.”

And the dragon had? He had to be mated then. Briana shivered at the thought of sharing that kind of bond with a gargoyle renowned for sacrificing his race’s well-being for personal gain, and cutting down those he’d called friends, leaving the path open for Arthur to be fatally wounded.

Elena tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder. “The castle rooms above both felt and smelled real, and yet faded faster than ashes on the wind by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs.”

Kel frowned at the subtle dig, but had no argument.

“It’s not real,” Vaughn added. “Not unless I’ve just found my mate.” He winked at Elena.

The sorceress rolled her eyes. “I’d sooner be burned at the stake.”

“So I’m not the only one who noticed our chemistry could set us both on fire.” Vaughn grinned, then yelped a second later, scrambling away from Elena.

The white towel he wore had a black scorch mark a few inches to the right of Vaughn’s groin.

Just as cocky as ever, his eyes gleamed with mischief. “You missed.”

“Did I?” Elena shrugged and ventured a little closer to one of the trees.

Hoping that settled the matter of the sun for now, Briana surveyed the gathered immortals. “Does anyone know who brought us here?”

“A god would be my guess.”

They turned at the sound of a new voice. Sweet Avalon, how many of them had been brought here?

Another immortal moved around the pool and through the trees toward them. A Fae, Briana guessed, feeling the suffocating press of old magic—very old magic—until it stretched over her skin like a glove that was trying to fit.

The Korrigan shuddered in distaste and Vaughn growled in warning.

The sensation faded quicker than expected, chilling Briana. Had the demonstration of power been intentional? The subtle frown on the Fae’s face suggested otherwise, but no being as old as the fair-haired male would have such a weak grip on his abilities.

“Told you,” the Korrigan hissed, taking an accusing step toward Nessa.

“Rhiannon’s not involved.” Nessa regarded the Korrigan with the same casual disregard for a worm under her boot.

“He just said—” the Korrigan began to argue.

“He,” the Fae clarified, his fingers tightening on a walking stick he clutched in his hand, “said it was a god. I never said which one.”

“The other gods sleep.” The Korrigan turned away, giving no indication he was intimidated by the Fae’s show of strength.

Briana wasn’t so willing to dismiss it, but the cat didn’t feel overly threatened by it either. Strange. Almost as strange as the colored blossoms on the trees pulsing faster as the Fae passed them.

“Are you certain?” the Fae asked. Appearing half-bored by the conversation already, the old one—who would’ve barely passed for twenty-five in the mortal realm—wandered around the courtyard, a curious guest fascinated with his surroundings. He didn’t comment on the tree blossoms but gave the overhanging branches a wide berth.

They worried even the Fae then.

Lucan caught Briana’s elbow and coaxed her as far away from the others as they could manage. Vaughn started to follow, hesitating only when Lucan stared him down.

“If you hurt her,” the wolf warned, baring his teeth.

“Back off.” Lucan took a threatening step toward the wolf, forcing Briana to put herself between them. While part of her wanted nothing more than to be alone and figure out a way to put Lucan out of both her mind and heart, no one else seemed capable of keeping the peace.

“He’s out of your league, pup,” Elena warned. Vaughn snarled at her advice, and she grinned and glanced at Nessa. “Fido might have a little bite to him after all.”

Ignoring the two women trading remarks, Briana nodded at her friend. “I’m fine, Vaughn.” She couldn’t say the same about Lucan though. Far too much black pooled in his eyes.

With another growl, Vaughn turned away, steering clear of both Elena and Nessa.

Lucan’s gaze followed him, and he took a step as if planning to go after Vaughn anyway.

“Hey.” She grabbed Lucan’s arm.

Lucan whipped around, his eyes dark and soulless. He cocked his head, but it wasn’t him considering her so carefully. The wraith was back and more than a little eager to wreak havoc if the tightening of his fingers around his sword was anything to go by.

She really didn’t need any more complications, and an unpredictable killing machine definitely complicated the hell out of everything. Glancing at his wounded hand, she wondered if that had anything to do with why the wraith continued to surface. For all she knew it happened a lot and she just hadn’t spent enough time around Lucan to know the difference.

Either way, it didn’t change anything. The wraith was here now, watching her intently. As if he knew she was trying to figure out what to do next, the wraith leaned in, lowering his head.

She kept still as his chest brushed hers, and the familiar scent of Lucan wrapped around her. Her gaze slid away from his long enough to confirm only the Fae paid them any attention.

Maybe too close attention.

The others had begun to argue again, fueled by the Korrigan insisting Rhiannon had to be responsible and what was Nessa going to do about it. Someone else would have to keep things from escalating. She had bigger problems at the moment.

The wraith inhaled, edging closer until their bodies touched. He felt much cooler now and a sliver of menace crackled on the air between them. The cat stirred, raking its claws along the edges of her mind the way it did when it wanted to play rough.

Not the reaction she would have expected.

“Luc,” she whispered, willing him to come back. At least then she’d know what she was dealing with.

His mouth whispered across her neck, and the harder her pulse pounded, the longer he lingered, his breath hot on her skin.

She tipped her head back, unsure what to say. “No one here is the enemy. Yet,” she tacked on, her voice barely audible. If the wraith believed the others were an imminent threat, he wouldn’t stop until he’d destroyed them all or went down trying—if such a thing was even possible.

An indulgent grin curved the wraith’s lips.

Right. If the wraith believed the others were an imminent threat, they wouldn’t be standing there having this conversation.

“It’s this place,” she guessed, looking over Lucan’s shoulder at the tree blossoms. “It’s making it harder for you to stay in control,” she guessed.

Curious black eyes stared back at her, watching where she lifted her hand to touch him.

“Don’t.” The rough voice was Lucan’s, but so much harder, colder.

The wraith hadn’t spoken to her in the alley, and she’d foolishly assumed it reacted primarily on instinct, like her animal half.

Although tempted to touch him anyway, she let her hand drop. There was no way to tell how volatile the wraith might be or whether or not Lucan was anywhere close to regaining control.

The wraith’s attention slipped to her mouth, lingering there, then he tipped his face up to the sun. “She will never allow it.” He glanced back at her, his expression impossible to decipher.

The sick feeling in her stomach at the thought of Lucan discovering the truth worsened. “Who?” she asked, though she was sure she knew.

“Rhiannon. We belong to her.”

If the wraith knew then…

“He doesn’t know.” The raspy voice, both foreign and familiar, did nothing to reassure her that Lucan hadn’t pieced the truth together. He’d obviously been curious about the sun’s effect on her.

“But you do.”

The wraith nodded.

Briana’s head throbbed from trying to make sense of everything. “How?”

Another smug grin. “I fear nothing.”

A killing machine who spoke in riddles. Even better.

Sensing the tension mounting between the others, she knew she had to figure out something before they turned on each other.

Feeling the Fae’s gaze, Briana turned toward him. She couldn’t do anything about the wraith at the moment, but maybe she stood a chance of getting to the bottom of whoever had brought them here.

The wraith stayed close—too close—and she did her best to ignore him as she approached the Fae. Not nearly as simple as it should have been when the wraith’s gaze never left her.

“What’s your name?”

The Fae took his time looking away from the wraith. “Bran.”

“Have you heard of this happening before?” She wasn’t prepared to voice her theory about the Gauntlet. There was no telling what that would do to the gathered immortals. As it was, they didn’t need a reason to be at each other’s throat.

“I’ve heard many things.” Bran tilted his head to indicate her shadow. “But not of a gargoyle with a wraith bodyguard. Impressive, though I wouldn’t trust him not to turn on you. Only Rhiannon can tame them entirely.”

That wasn’t a conversation she was having with anyone but Lucan. “Do you know who brought us here?”

“Perhaps.”

The wraith tensed beside her. Because of the Fae? Or the huntress walking back toward them?

Nessa, who’d given up on arguing with the Korrigan, crossed her arms. “Perhaps Briana will tolerate your games, but I lack the patience.”

“And also your sword,” Bran reminded her, smirking.

“Are you refusing to tell us what you know?” Nessa looked like she was really hoping he would.

“We don’t need to pick fights with each other,” Briana put in, though she knew it was a waste of time. If Nessa wanted to pick a fight there would be no talking her out of it.

“Don’t be naive.” Bran gestured to the group. “Look around. If we were meant to get along there wouldn’t be a thieving Korrigan among us, a member of a race so desperate for acceptance they enslave others to keep them company. Or a fledgling sorceress so abusive with her magic half of Avalon would sell their children to get even with her.”

“Only half?” Elena mused.

Bran ignored her. “Who would put a huntress within striking distance of Arthur’s betrayer? Or a knight, now a slave to the creature within, capable of killing all of us?”

Kel snorted.

The wraith merely smiled, but Briana suspected his amusement stemmed from thinking of ripping the Fae’s head from his body. Or maybe the dragon’s. Probably both.

Bran didn’t seem to notice or care what the wraith was thinking when he turned back to Briana. “What would you have all us do? Do Tequila shots and sing karaoke?”

“I could go for a drink right about now,” Vaughn muttered.

“Whatever we were brought here for,” Bran continued, “I guarantee it was not to get along.”

“That’s your opinion.” The Korrigan rose to his full height, barely reaching the Fae’s chest. “Assuming you’re not the one who brought us here.”

“Hardly.”

“And we’re just supposed to take your word on that?”

The Fae didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “Believe what you want.”

“Or maybe I’ll just make you tell us what you know,” the Korrigan challenged, the black veins beneath his dark complexion zigzagging across his face.

From somewhere behind her, Briana heard the dragon laugh and knew it was pointless to try and prevent any bloodshed. The best she could hope for was to stay out of the crossfire.

Chapter Six

Lucan finally felt the wraith retreat and mentally tightened his grip on the reins. With the exception of a few moments, he’d remained vaguely aware of what was happening around him.

Still, his control hadn’t slipped like it had in the alley or now in over two centuries. What had changed?

He glanced down at his hand, pulling off the make-shift bandage. The gashes from punching the brick had finally closed and no longer looked as red and angry, but still throbbed when he flexed his hand.

He vanished his sword despite the wraith’s protest. His dark side lingered much too close to the surface.

“Not another word, wench!” The Korrigan puffed up his chest, glaring at Nessa.

The huntress lunged for the dark fairy, looking like she wanted to tear him in half.

“Oh my, has the competition started without us?”

Like everyone else, Lucan turned at the sound of the new voice behind them, careful to keep both the Fae and Kel, the two genuine threats to Briana—he hadn’t made up his mind about the wolf—in his peripheral vision.

He wasn’t sure how many more unexpected guests they could handle before somebody did more than lunge. The tension in the courtyard was thick enough to choke on.

Briana angled her body toward him. The relieved expression on her face when she met his gaze faded much too quickly. If the others were tense, the weight of the world seemed to sit squarely on Briana’s shoulders, and he knew he was to blame for that.

Resisting the urge to fill the space she put between them, he glanced at the couple dressed like medieval royalty. It took half a second to realize they had just become the biggest obstacle to getting Briana home. He’d promised Tristan that he’d keep her safe and here she was surrounded by those capable of enslaving her or burning her to a crisp.

And then there was the wraith.

The darkest part of him grew increasingly curious about her. With immortals all but going for each other’s throat, the wraith should have lost interest in Briana, not stuck close to her.

Shaded by the largest blossom-covered tree, the couple’s faces were shadowed, yet the tease of power they exuded rode on the air like a mist, thickening and weaving around Lucan.

Had the Fae been right? Were the gods responsible for their abduction? If a Campaign was brewing, then sleeping gods would awake—and look for recruits.

“My apologies for bringing you here without your consent. My brother can be rather impulsive at times.” Beautiful to the point her face looked like chiseled porcelain, the red-haired female stepped away from the tree.

Even Kel, who lounged in the sun, unaffected by the Fae’s earlier remarks, stood, his gaze following the goddess’s casual stroll around the perimeter of the courtyard while her brother remained beneath the protective shelter of the tree.

Lucan edged a little closer to Briana, not fooled by the goddess’s interest in the courtyard’s lush greenery. Whoever they were, Lucan had to appreciate any circumstance that brought Kel to him, even if it had been arranged by a god.

The last time he’d seen Kel, the dragon had broken ranks during the battle of Camlann, fleeing with a handful of his men and leaving Arthur open to attack, which Mordred had taken full advantage of.

A respected leader in the Guard, Kel had also been a close friend to Lucan and Arthur, making his betrayal slice even deeper. Their days spent training as brothers in arms and nights drinking and competing as friends had meant nothing to the dragon. When the stakes had been the highest, Kel had turned his back on them, leaving them all for dead.

Not even Nessa’s hunger for justice could compete with Lucan’s gnawing need for revenge. If Kel hadn’t deserted, Arthur might not have fallen in battle and Rhiannon might not have lashed out, making everyone suffer for her loss.

Distracted by the slow burn of betrayal and the wraith’s subtle push to take action now, it took him a few moments to remember his priority stood two feet away. As grateful as he was that Kel had been delivered to him, he also wanted to curse those responsible for reminding him of what Briana looked like in the sun.

As much as the shadows and moonlight suited the woman who hadn’t flinched from the wraith, the sight of her in the sun—the lighter threads of her dark hair the color of fire, her eyes more stunning—took his breath away.

Most remarkable of all was the way she ignored the sun completely. Even the wolf, who’d agreed the sun was likely an illusion, continued to turn his face up to the brilliant light. The dragon had made no effort to hide his indulgence, and yet Briana remained unaffected.

“I am Maeve,” the female announced.

Nessa straightened. “The goddess of war.”

The wraith stirred, intrigued, but Lucan didn’t let the leash slip. Getting Briana back to her brothers came first, and then he could deal with Kel, even if it meant using the huntress to make it happen.

Maeve smiled, though her eyes narrowed at Nessa’s interruption. “I am known for many interests.” She waved in the direction of the tree. “My brother, Aren. We thank you for accepting our invitation.”

Elena snorted. “You might try going with a simple Evite next time.”

The goddess gave her a blank look.

It wasn’t hard to see why Elena had gained such a notorious reputation among immortals. It was rumored her house’s allegiance to Rhiannon was the only reason she hadn’t been confronted by a huntress or marked for assassination by a wraith.

“You have all been selected to participate in our games,” Maeve continued.

Elena frowned. “Games? Are we celebrating something?”

“Our awakening, of course.” Maeve’s brother finally stepped from beneath the tree. His hair was the same fiery red and nearly as long as his sister’s, though he wore his tied back. One half of his face was as flawless as his sister’s while the other looked as though someone had taken a blow torch to it and the pink, blistered wounds never healed.

“Why us?” Briana asked, challenging the goddess a little more diplomatically than Elena.

“You all met our criteria.”

The Korrigan threw his hands out. “How could a lusty wench—” he pointed at the enchantress who apparently did know when to keep quiet and stay under the radar after all, “—ever be competition for the largest tradesman in Avalon?”

Nessa snorted. “Don’t you mean slave-dealer? And by largest, I know you’re not referring to your size.”

Briana reached for Vaughn, turning him around.

Lucan’s instinct to put himself between the two of them rattled him. He flexed his fist at his side, certain the enchantress’s spell was still affecting him. Standing motionless, he watched Briana point to the cross-like glyph on the back of the wolf’s shoulder. Lucan might have noticed it sooner if he hadn’t been preoccupied with figuring out why the wraith had taken control twice now.

“And was the Fae warrior part of your selection criteria?”

Maeve tilted her head, her gaze fixing too intently on Briana. “For some of you.”

“And by games,” Briana continued, her chin rising a notch. “You’re referring to the Gauntlet.”

Lucan’s head buzzed. The odds of getting Briana home unscathed had just been stacked against them.

He scanned the faces of those around him, their expressions a similar mix of confusion, and for those not quick enough to mask it, worry.

So it was true then. Another Campaign was definitely brewing, another explosion of ego-fueled shows of power that had the potential to wipe out at least half the immortal population.

Worse than that, though, was the likelihood the battles would spill into the earth realm. Lifetimes ago such a war wouldn’t have touched humanity or exposed Avalon. There would be no avoiding it this time. Even Rhiannon’s drive to keep their world hidden from the human race would cease to matter in the face of war with others like her.

No one made a sound for a long moment.

The goddess ran her hand across a flower with thorns that looked sharp enough to sever a finger. “I knew there was a reason we chose to include you instead of another from your gargoyle clan.” Her gaze landed on Briana, and a chill ripped up Lucan’s spine.

“The Gauntlet is a myth,” Vaughn said, talking to no one in particular. “Isn’t it?”

Briana tensed beside Lucan. “The mark on your shoulder blade is the symbol of the games.”

Vaughn reached back. “What mark?”

“I have the same one on my hip.” Briana tugged the waist of her pants down enough to expose the symbol that mirrored Vaughn’s. “I imagine we all have one.”

Lucan knew the brand explained the irritation he felt at his lower back.

The lines around Maeve’s mouth tightened. “The mark is a safety precaution. The Gauntlet is sacred and we couldn’t have any of you leaving—” she seemed to choose the last word carefully, “—before everything was explained.”

What was there to explain? The little Lucan knew of the Gauntlet came from Rhiannon’s own lips, and even the goddess regarded the event as a waste of time. Gauntlet victors—mere immortals in her eyes—couldn’t possibly affect the outcome of a war between the gods.

“And if we choose to decline your invitation?” Both gods glanced Lucan’s way, and he welcomed their attention.

Neither man nor wraith liked how closely Maeve watched Briana. If she’d been a last-minute selection, he didn’t want them changing their minds and lashing out at her because she’d provoked them.

The gods exchanged long looks and laughed—the sounds high-pitched, unnatural—as if they were the only ones in on the joke.

Aren tossed an apple that appeared from nowhere, into the air. “So eager to return to murdering innocents in service to your goddess?”

Lucan knew when he was being baited and kept his opinion of Rhiannon to himself. He hadn’t been selected to compete because of his loyalty to Rhiannon, but nothing could be gained by admitting just how deep his hatred for her ran.

“Or perhaps you haven’t had your daily fill of slaughtering yet,” Aren taunted. “Have you fed today, wraith? That one has a pretty neck.” He pointed at Briana. “Or would you prefer another?”

With a snap of the god’s fingers, the same redhead from the underground parking lot appeared next to Lucan.

Her eyes widened and she stumbled back a step, her terrified gaze darting around. Her lips parted, but Aren cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Do not bore me with your questions, mortal.”

Her eyes went wild with the realization she couldn’t speak.

Aren wandered closer, paying no attention to the woman. “Is she not acceptable?” The god shifted his attention to Briana. “Your wraith’s new friend is quite beautiful, is she not?”

Maeve sighed. “Stop toying with them, brother. They’re our guests.” The redhead vanished with a snap of Maeve’s fingers. “No one will be forced to compete, but I will ask that everyone listens to our proposition before making a decision. I promise it will be worth your while to stay.”

“If he stays, then I hope you’ve got an endless supply of redheads for him.” Elena nodded at Lucan. “No offense.”

Maeve ignored the comment and continued her stroll around the courtyard, her long navy gown trailing across the stones behind her. “The Gauntlet is comprised of five rounds. Each one will be worth more than the last, making it possible to fail in the first rounds and still win by succeeding in the final challenge.”

“And how do we know the competitions haven’t been rigged?” Kel interrupted.

The goddess frowned.

“I believe the gargoyle wants to know if we plan on influencing the competition in some fashion.” Aren took a bite of his apple.

Laughing, Maeve approached the dragon. Her lips parted, her cheeks pink with amusement that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I suspect you meant no offense.” She stroked her finger along Kel’s jaw. “However—” the skin along the path of her finger darkened to a chalky concrete, “—I’d advise you to choose your words more carefully, lest you imply something you cannot take back.”

The lower half of the dragon’s face turned to stone, the rock face traveling toward eyes that remained hard and fixed on the goddess. With a knowing grin, she stepped back, releasing him. Within seconds his face returned to normal.

“No offense, but doesn’t allowing a wraith to compete put everyone else at a distinct disadvantage?” Vaughn asked.

Apparently Lucan’s doubts about trusting the wolf hadn’t been off the mark.

“Measures have been taken to ensure both the huntress and the wraith are equals among you.” Maeve gave him a smug look.

They’d restricted Nessa’s ability to flash, a god-like power that nearly always gave a huntress the edge during a confrontation. Lucan knew his ability to slip into shadow remained intact, at least partially.

“The attack in the parking lot,” Briana murmured, her gaze falling to the spot where Lucan had been wounded fighting the Fae warrior. She spun around to face Maeve, her voice dangerously low. “Troll’s blood?”

Their blood was toxic and slowed the healing process. It should have occurred to him before now that the Fae’s sword had been tainted with it.

Maeve shook her head. “The effects are temporary and merely to insure a more fair competition.”

If all his wounds took as long as his hand to heal, he definitely wouldn’t be at full strength during the competitions.

“Where was I?” Maeve’s cheerful grin mirrored a spoiled child’s. She strolled past Nessa and Elena. “You will remain here for the duration of the competition. If you agree to participate and then choose to leave the games before their conclusion…”

Aren drew an invisible blade across his neck, to Maeve’s giddy delight.

She clapped and spun around. “Until your brands are removed, you will be restricted to our home and the competition sites. Communication with anyone beyond these walls is strictly forbidden. It would be unfair to seek information or guidance from those without a personal stake in the games.”

Circling the wolf and the Korrigan, the goddess came to stand beside her brother who picked up where she’d left off.

“There are certain…protections in place here to prevent you from injuring each other in between competitions. How you choose to deal with your competitors during the games is your choice, but know that the weapons available to you are not capable of a killing blow. At least not until the final round.”

Lucan knew well that killing was a mercy the gods would resist when pain and suffering would be so much more amusing.

“And the prize?” The Korrigan asked.

Maeve beamed as though they’d finally gotten to the good part. “Whatever your heart desires.” Her gaze slid from Briana to the wolf. “Bargaining power?” She glanced at Kel. “Validation? Forgiveness?” She turned to Elena. “Or perhaps strength.”

The sorceress shifted under the goddess’s penetrating stare, but there was no denying the flash of interest in Elena’s eyes.

Maeve’s knowing gaze found Lucan’s. “Or maybe retribution?” She turned away. “As I said, whatever your heart desires. The possibilities are endless.”

“And what prize could grant such things?” the Korrigan pressed.

Maeve paused, her fingers idly tracing the design in the stone half-wall. “Do you doubt me?”

The Korrigan bowed his head. “I’m merely curious about the mystical object that could grant such gifts.”

Maeve lifted her hand and a trail of mist followed in its wake. A shape took form at the center of the darkening, swirling clouds.

“Excalibur,” Nessa murmured.

It wasn’t possible. Lucan took an involuntary step forward as though it would put him one step closer to the king they’d lost. A ray of light caught the tip of the blade and for a moment it hurt to look at Arthur’s sword.

An illusion.

Lucan knew it in his gut. So why then did it feel like his chest was pinned beneath the boot of an enemy, the pressure agonizing?

Not real.

The sword had been lost soon after Arthur’s fall. Constantine, Arthur’s heir, had forged six daggers that would supposedly lead to Excalibur when united. Lucan put no more faith in the daggers accomplishing such a thing than he did in the smoke and mirrors trick the goddess had just pulled.

Arthur was gone and no amount of treasure seeking would change that. Maybe Lucan couldn’t argue the daggers’ existence, but immortals—present company included—needed to stop looking to a myth to change their fate.

Some things simply could not be undone.

“I’m sure you forgive me for not revealing its location at the moment.”

“Excalibur was lost after the battle at Camlann,” Nessa insisted.

“Was it?” Maeve smiled. “You have until sunset to decide whether or not to participate.”

The gods vanished as quickly as they’d appeared, leaving everyone else still staring at the faded glimpse of the lost sword.

“Parlor tricks.” The Korrigan argued. “They couldn’t possibly have the sword if they’ve just awakened.”

“Just awakened for them could be a century for us.” It was the first time the Fae had spoken since the gods had appeared.

Eyes dark, the Korrigan shook his head. “Even if they did have it, winning the weapon would be a death sentence.”

“Maybe your pea-sized brain has forgotten how powerful that sword is.”

The Korrigan glared at Nessa. “I haven’t forgotten anything, certainly not that to possess Excalibur would invite war with either Rhiannon or Morgana. Or both.”

“Any war could be won with Excalibur in hand,” the enchantress put in, her sing-song tone deliberate and designed to weaken a man’s will. Or a dragon’s. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Kel throughout the exchange.

“Is that so?” The Korrigan shot a finger at Lucan. “Ask him how well that foolish belief worked for Arthur.”

There was no arguing with that, and everyone knew it. But neither had Arthur relied on Excalibur to fight his battles for him. The sword had been a symbol as much as the blade he’d used when he’d found no way around it. As far as Lucan knew, Arthur had never taken the weapon for granted, or the responsibility that came with possessing it.

Briana crossed her arms. “That’s assuming Maeve or her brother don’t have their own agenda for the sword. With a Campaign coming, what better immortal ally to have on their side than one who possesses Excalibur?”

“Why wouldn’t they just give it to an immortal of their choosing?” Elena asked, proving that the reckless sorceress wasn’t as flighty as rumored.

“Which proves it’s all a hoax.” The Korrigan walked away, apparently done with the conversation.

“Why do the gods do anything they do?” the Fae mused aloud, ignoring the shorter immortal’s departure.

“Because they can.” It was the only truth Lucan knew. With no real consequences for their actions, no one to hold them accountable, every decision the gods made mirrored their selfish outlook that every being’s sole existence was to entertain them.

Even the rules of the game, ones that allowed an immortal to supposedly win the entire competition by claiming a victory in the final round alone were a farce. Just one more way for the gods to show everyone else who was in control.

No one said anything for a long moment.

The enchantress and Kel were the first to follow the Korrigan back inside the mansion. Elena and her new wolf friend trailed behind them soon after.

“What do you think?” Briana glanced at Nessa.

The huntress glanced back at the spot where Maeve had offered them a glimpse of the prize. “If there’s a chance it could be real… We could bring Arthur back. Restore the balance of power in Avalon. We could be free.”

Briana frowned, her gaze considering.

A knot the size of Camelot’s round table lodged in Lucan’s throat. “You’re not thinking of staying?” She didn’t have the kind of training for something like this. He wasn’t sure even her brothers did.

Her brows scrunched together. “You’re not?”

Lucan didn’t answer. He had no interest in becoming another god’s puppet or using the Gauntlet to slip Rhiannon’s leash. Even if he believed the latter was possible, fantasies of freedom could undermine his already fragile control. Or worse, they could make him forget his responsibility to safeguard Excalibur.

Although he had his doubts that the prize was real, he couldn’t risk Arthur’s sword falling into the wrong hands. Any one of the immortals present could be seduced by Excalibur’s power and drag all of Avalon down with them.

But Elena was right about him needing a supply of blood. If he was strong enough he could go a couple days, maybe three, without it. Any more than that and he chanced losing himself to the wraith who wouldn’t hesitate to satisfy its hunger from the closest source.

How long had it been since he’d fed last? Twelve hours? Eighteen?

Nessa cleared her throat, and Lucan realized his gaze had locked on Briana’s neck.

He shook off his sudden preoccupation with blood, and focused on the bigger problem. “You can’t stay here.”

Determination squared Briana’s shoulders. “If there is even a chance—”

“Don’t be naïve. That sword is probably no more real than the sunlight.”

She met his eyes but not without taking a soft breath, the pulse beneath her jaw quickening a fraction. “It’s not your call.”

“Don’t make the decision to stay because you’re angry with me.”

“Angry?” she echoed, her voice turning glacial.

“Ooookay.” Nessa took a couple of steps back. “I’m gonna go and see if Elena has turned the wolf into puppy chow yet.”

He waited until Nessa and the Fae were out of earshot before continuing. “What happened in the alley—”

“There’s no point in rehashing it. You made yourself perfectly clear.”

Lucan searched her face for the raw emotion he heard in her voice, but found only stubborn resolve. “I never wanted to hurt you like that.”

Wildness brightened Briana’s eyes, and he knew she was close to letting her feline half to the surface. “It’s over with, right? We have other things to deal with.”

He forced himself to nod. “Getting you home comes first.” If Tristan wouldn’t be happy to hear about what happened in the alley, the gargoyle would destroy Lucan for letting her enter the Gauntlet.

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“I promised your brother—”

“That you would make sure I kept my clothes on,” she shot back, tugging at the shirt she wore. “Job well done.” She said nothing about how close they’d come to sliding her pants all the way off, or that those clothes hadn’t stopped him from touching her…everywhere.

“I told your brother that you would be safe with me. What part of the Gauntlet sounds safe to you? It’s a death match.”

“That’s not what Maeve—”

“Come on, Briana, you’re not that stupid.”

She flinched as if he’d struck her, but he made himself keep going. Saving her life was more important than sparing her feelings. “Do you think Kel would hesitate to cut you down at the first opportunity? He betrayed his king on the battlefield, leaving him vulnerable. If he could stab Arthur in the back, what would stop him from driving a sword into yours?”

Crossing her arms the same way her brothers did when they weren’t about to be swayed, Briana waited.

“Or the Fae or the Korrigan,” he pressed. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be at that creature’s mercy, a slave to his whims? Because that’s exactly what would happen if a competition took us close enough to his territory that he could access the dark magic there.”

She tipped her chin up. “I know the risks. I can handle myself.”

“You’re good with a sword and are one of the best trackers I know, but that doesn’t make you qualified for something like this.” He exhaled a harsh breath. “You weren’t even supposed to be here. If you hadn’t gotten out of the car in the parking lot and attacked that Fae—”

“The Fae that almost killed you?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, the glow of her eyes entirely feline. “Not that it matters anyway. I’m here now.” And not damn well leaving, according to her tone.

“You don’t have to be. It’s too dangerous for you to stay.” Why couldn’t she see that? “Your brothers—” he began.

“Are not here.” Her expression softened. “You know as well as I do all of them would stay if they were in my place.”

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind of that. Her entire family was far too devoted to finding the daggers, not even realizing that Rhiannon would take advantage of that loyalty until it no longer yielded her results.

All too aware that he was rapidly losing the fight to get her far away from here, he went with another approach. “By staying, you make us competitors instead of allies.” The wraith snarled in his head, disliking any claim that Briana was the enemy.

Her shoulders stiffened. “If that’s your preference.” She turned away, and on instinct, he grabbed for her wrist.

“Briana, wait.”

Slowly, she faced him, staring down at the hand that held her. “You really want me to go?”

Something flickered in her eyes, making him wary. He nodded, releasing his hold on her.

“Then give me a reason.” Vulnerable and still so damn beautiful it stung to hold her gaze, she looked at him the same way she had centuries ago. “Give me a reason to leave with you, Luc.”

He didn’t have the luxury of telling her what she wanted to hear. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Tell me what you really felt in the alley.”

A cold fist closed around his heart, squeezing tight. “We’ve already been through that. It was just a spell.”

She stepped toward him, her expression hopeful, and it was killing him. “And right now, here, you feel nothing for me?”

“I want to keep you safe.”

“Why?” She searched his eyes, but he refused to let her glimpse anything that would hurt her later. And he would. He had before and nothing had changed since then.

“I promised Tristan,” he finally said. It crossed his mind to lie to her, to take advantage of the spell that must still be lingering in her system, but admitting feelings he could never act on would be far worse than watching her be disappointed in him all over again.

“Right.” Briana wanted to cringe when her voice cracked.

She’d known where they stood, had felt every word they’d exchanged in the alley slice into her heart. And still she’d let herself hope, even if it was for just another few seconds, that maybe he’d changed his mind, realized he’d made a mistake.

“I’m staying.” Her words were careful, controlled.

“Then you’re a fool.”

Briana refused to let the comment sting. “Or maybe one of us needs to believe.”

He clenched his jaw. “Believe in what?”

“That some things can be changed if you’re willing to fight for them. The same thing Arthur believed in. The same belief that made you want to become one of his knights.”

Lucan snorted. “Like the Korrigan said, look how that turned out.”

Something inside her broke a little. He’d warned her in the alley that he’d never been the man she thought he was, and for the first time she had to face that maybe she had been wrong about him.

“The hunt for Excalibur can turn even the most trusted friend into an enemy. Your wolf or huntress friends would betray you for even a taste of the power or strength they could possess if they got their hands on Arthur’s sword. Do you realize that?”

“Not everyone would sacrifice their friends and loved ones—”

He laughed bitterly. “Of course they would. Under the right circumstances everyone is capable of betrayal.”

“Including you? You’d betray friends and people you cared about?”

He took a step toward her, close enough she could read the sincerity in his eyes. “In a heartbeat. To be free of Rhiannon, I, especially, would be capable of anything.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Lifting a hand to touch her, he seemed to think better of it, making his words even more unexpected. “You would be the easiest of them all to hurt.”

“You’re not making any sense.” She took an involuntary step back, chilled by the hardness in his eyes. “Why are you so determined to leave when staying could mean the difference between an eternity of servitude or getting your life back?”

“Do you honestly think winning will accomplish anything aside from trading one god for another? I don’t need another god manipulating me or taking the things I care about and hurting them, torturing them just to inflict more pain. Because that’s what they do. They wait and see what matters most in this world and when you lower your guard, even just a fraction, they swoop in and destroy it.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that what Rhiannon did to you? Is that why you—”

He grabbed her arms, hauling her close, his grip unbreakable. She would have thought the wraith was in control if not for the furious green eyes boring into hers. “Rhiannon had nothing to do with what I said in the alley. She’s not the reason I don’t want to be with you.”

The cat in her roared at the denial, dragging its claws along the edges of her mind and heart, shredding the last of the hope she’d secreted away. For just a moment she’d imagined winning the sword and using it to bargain with Rhiannon for Lucan’s freedom, and for what? Over and over again he’d made his feelings perfectly clear. He didn’t want to be with her. Didn’t want a future with her.

“I get it.” Three little words, and they ravaged her throat, tearing her down as much as they hardened something inside her.

“Then tell me you’re not staying.” His grip tightened. “I can’t be saved.”

The emotions heaped on top of each other crumbled, leaving in their place an arctic resolve to survive the Gauntlet—to survive Lucan. “If I’m staying to save anyone, it’s myself.”

Confusion ran riot across the handsome face a part of her still ached to touch. The cat’s needs warred with the woman’s better judgment, urging her to slide her palm across Lucan’s cheek. In another time and place, she could picture his forest-green eyes, so full of secrets and shadows, sliding closed as he lifted his hand to cover her own.

Only it would never happen.

Staying was her only option now. She couldn’t go home and face her brothers knowing she’d passed up the opportunity to fight for Excalibur. What would she tell them? That she was too scared? In over her head?

None of that mattered now.

She couldn’t let them down, not after everything they’d done for her over the years. Doing everything possible to win the Gauntlet and stop Morgana from driving Avalon into the ground was all that counted. No matter how worried or angry Briana’s brothers would be at her for staying, they’d understand her choice.

Winning Excalibur was also the only shot she had of freeing herself from a bond that had the potential to destroy her. Forged by the Lady of the Lake, the sword possessed unimaginable magic, powerful enough even the gods knew it could sway the outcome of the next Campaign.

And in the right hands, the sword’s magic might just be capable of making her forget that Lucan was her mate or force the cat to reject him. It wasn’t too late to move on with her life if her feline half turned away from Lucan, saving her from the self-destructive path of the Forgotten.

His hands fell back to his sides. “Briana?”

“You’re right. You’re not the man I remember. The man I foolishly convinced myself you were. We should be competitors. It’ll be better that way.”

“Don’t do this. I can’t… Your family can’t lose you.”

Where her heart might have quickened at what Lucan might have almost said, she felt only a steely determination. “And they can’t help me either.” She turned away from him.

“You don’t know what you risk by staying.”

“And you don’t know what I risk by leaving.” Clinging to the belief that she’d made the right decision—the only decision—she walked away from him.

Only when she was inside and alone in the kitchen, the others’ voices coming from another room, did she grip the edge of the counter until her claws scratched the granite.

“You’d think he’d have more reason than anyone to compete.”

Still riled up, the cat growled at Vaughn’s presence, urging her to take action. She just didn’t know which instinct was driving her the hardest—the yearning to mark Lucan as hers, or the determination to protect herself from the one person capable of hurting her the most.

She was crazy to stay, she knew that. Even though Lucan had praised her sword and tracking skills—something that meant entirely too much to her under the circumstances—she knew she didn’t have the same deadly training as he or Nessa possessed, or the magic that Elena and the Fae could wield.

But leaving would mean accepting that she’d been denied her mate. She’d meant what she said to Lucan. Her family wouldn’t be able to help her. She’d eventually become hostile and aggressive until the cat took over entirely. Not even her brothers could prevent her from becoming one of the Forgotten.

“What’s the story with you two anyway?” Vaughn slid onto a stool, and she noticed he’d exchanged the towel Elena had provided for a black T-shirt and jeans.

“It’s…” She hitched a shoulder, knowing she was better off saying nothing. While she didn’t have Lucan’s innate mistrust of everyone, she also knew anyone who stayed would be playing to win.

“Complicated as fuck?”

Despite herself, she grinned and turned toward him. His arms were open before she made the conscious decision to move into them. Strong and warm, the embrace felt safe, predictable. Like family.

She pulled back and gave him a once over. “So what kind of trouble were you in before this?” She motioned to their surroundings.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He grinned, but something dark flashed in his eyes. He gave her a hard squeeze, and crossed to the fridge to poked around inside.

“Anyone going to miss you if you stay and compete?”

He shot her a knowing look. “If you’re asking if I’ve hitched my rope to the mating post, then no.”

She smiled softly, the first genuine smile in what felt like forever. “Maybe I was asking about your sister.” Briana had missed both of them more than she realized. Their families had been nearly inseparable once upon a time.

Vaughn shuddered. “I pity the wolf that sets out to claim her. No one can flip a bitch switch faster than she can.”

“I’m going to tell her you said that,” she teased, knowing Vaughn would do anything to protect his sister, the same way Briana’s brothers would her.

“Sun is going down.”

She went along with the abrupt change in subject, following his gaze out the window where she caught a glimpse of Lucan across the courtyard.

Turning away, she wandered across the room, hearing the unmistakable sounds of someone fighting.

“Nessa and the witch.”

Briana cocked a brow at the term Elena would have taken issue with.

He shrugged unapologetically. “They’re sparring in the gym. It’s next to the weapons room,” he tacked on.

“And the others?”

“Haven’t seen the slave dealer for a while,” he said, referring to the Korrigan. “The Fae is meditating that way, and the enchantress and Kel are tolerating each other’s company in the dining room.” He motioned in the opposite direction. “She piled twice as much food on her plate as the dragon, and he could probably eat a small village.”

Movement from the corner of her eye snagged her attention, and she watched through the glass as Lucan approached the door on the opposite side of the room.

“Does he worry you?” Vaughn put a plate of cold chicken on the counter.

“He should worry everyone here.” Herself included.

Vaughn came to stand beside her. “I was talking about Kellagh the Black, but I can’t say your wraith friend doesn’t freak me the fuck out.”

“We’re not friends.” They weren’t anything anymore. It shouldn’t bother her to admit that, considering she and Lucan had barely seen each other in centuries until recently, but it did. Beneath her ribs she could feel the gnawing throb of the loss. “Lucan knows my brothers.”

Biting into a sandwich he’d pulled from the fridge, Vaughn cocked his head. “I’ve never crossed paths with a wraith until now.”

“Lucky for you that Morgana and Rhiannon aren’t BFFs, otherwise you might have been marked for assassination long ago.”

He grinned like it was a compliment he’d managed not to get himself killed serving the rebellion.

The door opened behind her and she kept her gaze trained on Vaughn. Her friend dove back into his sandwich without betraying how much the wraith intimidated him. He glanced over her shoulder to where Lucan stood.

The weight of the former knight’s stare bore into her. Though she didn’t acknowledge his presence, he lingered, his presence a bittersweet stroke across her fledgling resolve to forge a new fate for herself.

“The twisted bastards got the raw end of the deal with Rhiannon,” Vaughn murmured a few moments after Lucan had gone.

Briana didn’t comment. Focusing on the competition was the only hope she had of tempering the beast inside her. She forced herself to eat something with Vaughn, then followed him to the training room to watch Nessa and Elena for a while. He stretched out on the bench, looking much too at ease given the situation as he resisted both their attempts to get him to spar.

Watching the huntress dominate hand-to-hand combat left Briana a little nervous. She knew she could hold her own for a while, her brothers had guaranteed it, but she spent far more time working on her security systems these days than she did channeling her inner huntress.

“She’s trying to screw with our heads, you know.” Vaughn didn’t bother opening his eyes. “She wants us to be scared of her.”

“There will be much scarier things than Nessa to face.” Briana’s gaze landed on Kel, who stood just outside the training room. Things worse than even a dragon with a reputation for being a willing mercenary, unlike Lucan.

A gong sounded outside, and everyone stopped.

“Time’s up I guess.” Vaughn was the first on his feet and walking out of the room.

She was the last to leave the training room, mentally preparing herself for a competition two gods had decided to include her in, maybe solely for her connection to Lucan. If she hadn’t been in the parking lot that day, she might have escaped their notice.

Somehow she knew that would have been worse than being given the chance to change the path that fate and her mate bond had set her on.

By the time Briana joined the others, Kel and the enchantress were slipping outside to gather with everyone else. She kept her gaze from seeking out Lucan for as long as she could He stood watching Maeve and Aren, who lounged atop a snowy-white gazebo straight out of a bridal magazine photo op.

Below them, a black gong at least ten feet wide continued to vibrate in the center of the gazebo. The handle lay next to it where the Korrigan had tossed it aside.

“You’ve declined our invitation to participate?” Maeve pouted.

The Korrigan nodded.

“If that is your decision.” Aren lifted a hand and the vine covered wall that enclosed the courtyard parted, revealing a dense jungle on the other side.

The Korrigan walked toward it without looking back. As he disappeared into the surrounding foliage, Maeve sat up straighter. “Does anyone else wish to decline?”

Briana watched Lucan from the corner of her eye, but he made no move to approach the gazebo. The enchantress took a step forward, looking unsure.

A scream rang out and seconds later chunks of the earth rained down on the courtyard. No, Briana quickly amended. Chunks of Korrigan, including his head, which landed directly at the enchantress’s feet.

Hand over her mouth, the enchantress spun away from the gruesome sight. The Fae who sat on the ground, his back against a low stone wall, tipped his head up toward the gods. “I thought we could refuse?”

Aren nodded. “We did indeed say that. But we never said you would be allowed to live if you declined.”

Maeve giggled. “The competition begins at midnight.” The pair vanished along with the gazebo.

“Well, that settles it.” Vaughn glanced at Elena. “I guess you’re gonna get to spend more time with me, beautiful.”

Chapter Seven

Lucan stared at the door leading to Briana’s room but made no move to knock.

He knew he should apologize. He just wasn’t entirely sure what for. For sounding like a bastard when he warned her that she couldn’t trust anyone in this competition, not even him? Or for lying to her? Again.

He pushed away from the wall, taking two steps toward the door that loomed in front of him. The need to set things right between them ate at him. He just didn’t know what right was anymore.

Every time Briana got too close, she blurred the lines that kept him from making a mistake. Being with her—being anywhere near her—was a mistake that had hurt them both before, and here he stood with only a door separating them.

Bracing his hands on the frame, Lucan closed his eyes. Downstairs he could watch the others, shadow them while they remained oblivious to his presence, noting their strategies and skills. Instead he had to talk himself out of speaking to Briana for just a few minutes, as if that would ever be enough time to make up for the pain he’d already caused.

He reached a hand out to knock. The sight of his hand, pale and tinged an icy blue, stopped him. Although he didn’t feel the wraith’s presence, threatening his control, he spun away from the door.

Maybe it was better if he said nothing. If he smoothed things over—if that was even possible—he risked making her think she could rely on him throughout the competition.

A potentially costly mistake for both of them.

But how could he protect her if she continued to avoid him as she had since their last conversation?

Another glance at the door had him imagining her sitting at a desk, her dark brows scrunched in concentration, her fingers gliding across the keys of her laptop. More than a few times he’d caught a glimpse of her that way in her brother’s office at Pendragon’s or at her family’s home. Lost in concentration, she always remained unaware of his presence for long minutes, giving him time to watch every nuance of thought cross her face while she worked.

Frustration turned her cheeks a flattering pink while eagerness made her bite her bottom lip. Her eyes always narrowed slightly when something seemed to puzzle her, and her feet bounced nonstop when she was close to finishing something.

Each time their paths had crossed in recent months had been an opportunity to discover something new about her, until he’d found himself lingering a little longer, drawing out each moment until they almost pained him.

Despite their past, she’d always been quick to greet him with a smile, never realizing how such an innocent gesture—or worse, the feel of her skin brushing his—could so easily rattle him.

A fuzzy tingling started in his chest and he glanced down, frowning. What the hell?

A surge of power snapped through his body, an electrical current arcing through him. Spikes of green—the same as when they’d been snatched off the street outside Pendragon’s—filled his vision. The world swayed at the edges, and then he found himself standing in the mansion’s courtyard.

The sun had gone down hours ago, replaced by the glow of the moon that cast shadows across the group of immortals summoned once more without warning. The wolf looked ready to unleash his animal half, but Kel managed to simply look bored. If not for the tensing in the dragon’s sword hand, a subtle gesture Lucan recognized from their years spent training together, Lucan might have assumed he was far more in control than the other gargoyle.

Briana on the other hand… Was she excited? Eyes bright, she rocked on the balls of her feet with barely-contained energy. In place of the subtle aggression that Vaughn and Kel exuded, a hint of excitement hummed on the air around her.

Something was wrong. She couldn’t be looking forward to this, could she?

Careful to keep his scrutiny under the radar, he watched her from the corner of his eye, equally aware that the Fae was doing the same thing to Lucan.

Bran had made himself scarce most of the day, appearing long enough to witness the Korrigan’s dismemberment. Twice after that Lucan had been certain the old one was near, but hadn’t shown himself. The immortal made no effort to hide his own scrutiny.

Lucan returned the Fae’s critical gaze, making it perfectly clear the old one didn’t intimidate him in the least. Bran’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced away.

Message received then.

Lucan shifted his attention back to Briana, unexpectedly comforted by the sight of her in darkness. The night glow brightening her face was familiar, steady—and something he knew better than to rely on to keep him grounded should he lose himself to the monster Rhiannon created, the one stirring restlessly beneath the surface.

He blamed that on the fact that she moved closer to Nessa and Elena, clearly ignoring his advice. Maybe she was reluctant to doubt Nessa, but she couldn’t be foolish enough to trust the sorceress who had cursed and imprisoned Briana’s own brother for over a century.

Elena was no more of an ally than the Fae. She knew the power of Constantine’s daggers and no doubt had a taste for the strong magic she’d inadvertently used to trap Cian.

Lucan could only imagine the lure of Excalibur for an immortal entrenched in magic from birth. Wars between houses of sorcerers were legendary, their constant battles for more power almost as well-known as Morgana’s lust for Camelot.

A bolt of lightning struck the group and sparks chased away the shadows cast by the trees.

“Almost rivals a Vegas show opening,” Elena quipped under her breath.

If Maeve heard or understood her meaning, the goddess gave no indication. “I want to formally thank you all for participating in our games.”

Silence greeted her remark, and she cast her gaze around, eyes tightening at the corners. Apparently she’d been expecting a more enthusiastic response.

“The first competition begins shortly.” She gestured to her brother.

Aren stepped forward. “You are looking for three gems, the Eyes of the Afanc.” He held up a stone three times larger than a marble. The stone gleamed in iridescent shades of blue, then red, and finally black. “When a stone is in close proximity to another, the gem will glow, making it easier to locate the next one.”

Making it easier to track and take them from each other, Lucan silently added. He knew little of the Afanc beyond that Arthur had slain the creature, chaining and dragging the beast from the lake where it had ruthlessly preyed on those foolish enough to wade away from the shoreline.

Maeve picked up where her brother left off. “The competition concludes when all three gems have been located. You will then be returned to the courtyard.” She took the stone from her brother. “There will of course be consequences for anyone who attempts to leave the competition site or contact anyone not directly involved in the game.” She paused. “I should also mention that sections of the site have been manipulated for…entertainment value.”

Manipulated being code for sabotage. Either way, every one of them was at the mercy of gods who’d already proven they viewed their competitors like Mr. Potato Head toys.

Aren grinned. “And be wary of the location’s other treasures. Many have been enchanted and quiet capable of distracting those who lose sight of their objective. Off with you then.” He turned his back on them at the same time Lucan felt himself thrown backward.

He slammed into the ground, his palms sliding across dirt as dark as the surrounding charcoal walls. Accustomed to shadows, he made out the low ceiling and stone walls of an underground corridor. Dampness mingled with the faint smell of saltwater, and in the distance he could hear the muffled thump of water crashing against rocks.

Where was Briana?

Alone in the corridor, he stood. The glow of firelight flickered from the left. Wary of the more welcoming path, he studied the darkness to the right, tempted to go in that direction. His curiosity won in the end, and he went left, hoping the added light would give him a better look at his surroundings.

The tunnel ahead opened up to a wide cavern. The walls had crumbled in places, leaving caved-in debris to block some of the numerous tunnels that led away from the cavern.

Had everyone been dumped into a different corridor?

Listening for any of the others, Lucan walked toward the center of the cavern and the rock formation that appeared to move under the flickering torchlight surrounding the statue—a statue of a young man pulling a sword from a stone.

Tintagel Castle?

Lucan spun around, studying the crumbled walls and spears of light shooting through the occasional gap in the ceiling overhead.

They’d been brought to Tintagel Castle, Arthur’s birthplace?

He couldn’t think of any other place in Avalon or the mortal realm that could have the same statue, one finished just months after Arthur had restored Camelot. Although the last time Lucan had glimpsed the statue, it had sat in the courtyard.

He’d visited Tintagel dozens of times after he and Arthur had become friends, and later when he’d sworn fealty to the lost king. It was within these castle walls he’d drunk from the Grail, becoming one of Arthur’s immortal knights.

Centuries had taken their toll on the structure. Little remained of it above, he knew, a broken shell of a once glorious keep that human tourists flocked to now. Shortly after Arthur’s fall in battle, Tintagel Castle had been cast out from the protective seal of the veil and into the human realm.

Rhiannon might have beaten Arthur’s half-sister to the punch when it came to punishing Arthur’s most loyal followers, but Morgana had done her worst. As soon as she’d seized Camelot for herself, she’d dispatched Mordred’s army to destroy everything Arthur had worked for. Once landmarks, monuments and even peace treaties between warring clans and houses had been eradicated, she’d turned her sights on the childhood home she and Arthur had shared.

Destroying Tintagel wasn’t enough for the vengeful sorceress. She’d been determined to erase it from Avalon as though it had never existed. Had Morgana not felt compelled to thrust the great castle from Avalon, none of the mortal realm would have ever heard of King Arthur, heard the stories passed down from those who’d called Tintagel home when it had been shoved outside the veil.

Caught up in the past that was forever reaching into the present to haunt him, Lucan took his time circling the cavern, pausing once more before the statue. As though he’d been there, the artist had captured the near desperate determination on Arthur’s face as he gripped the hilt of Excalibur.

A reluctant grin caught the corner of Lucan’s mouth. Dozens of stories had been told about the sword and the stone and none of them had gotten it right. Historians and philosophers alike would be shocked to know that sword had been drawn to fight off the men Arthur had just robbed.

And Lucan had helped him.

Steeling himself against the fuzzy memories that tried to rise up, he turned away from the statue and gave himself over to his phantom self. It made moving between tunnels much easier.

He’d long ago grown accustomed to the sensation of becoming nothing, losing everything but his consciousness, which could so easily be consumed by an uncontrollable blood lust.

He might have wanted to apologize to Briana for what he’d said, but it didn’t make it any less true. If caught on the edge of losing his mind to a hunger he was denying himself, like what had happened in the alley, he knew full well he could be capable of eliminating anything that stood in his way of being free of such a curse.

If he dared to believe such a thing was possible.

The walls shook with the force of a dragon’s roar, followed by a scream—a woman’s. Elena maybe, or the enchantress. Not Briana.

He ignored the sounds of the brewing fight, half hoping their fighting would collapse the walls on top of them, wherever they were. When he reached another tunnel, he slowed. He had no idea the corridors beneath the castle had been so vast. He doubted any human archeologist knew either or there would be signs of excavation.

Gliding soundlessly across the floor, part of the shadows that clung to his soul, he kept his distance when he spotted the familiar dark-haired female in front of him.

“I know you’re there, Lucan.”

Surprised she’d noticed him so easily, he hesitated. She’d never picked up on his presence in his phantom form as far as he knew, not if he hadn’t wanted her to. Had the troll’s blood that weakened his healing also affected his ability to go undetected?

Briana didn’t look back or pause to see if he followed when she turned down another corridor. He kept his distance at first, keeping only the glow of the torch she carried in view, and a few tunnel twists and turns later, he eventually caught up to her.

He couldn’t imagine they were beneath the castle any longer, but magic could be deceptive, and it had taken a lot of it to push Tintagel beyond the veil.

Briana stopped, her gaze locked on the wall to her right. Her brows scrunched together, making her appear even younger, more vulnerable than her early twenties when she’d reached maturity and frozen into her immortality.

“How long do you plan on following me?” She pressed a hand to the stone wall, her frown deepening.

“I wasn’t following you.” He emerged from the shadows, his booted feet scuffing the stones beneath him as he took solid form once more.

Briana set her torch down and tested the wall with both hands. “Do you feel that?” She shoved at the stone face and the wall shook in a way that shouldn’t have been possible regardless of the castle’s age or Briana’s strength.

Brushing the loose hair from her face, she faced him, then gestured down the dark corridor for him to continue on his way.

Leaving her wasn’t an option. Not with Kel and the Fae wandering around.

He walked past her, then planted both palms on the wall next to where hers had been. “These old castles walls are stronger than they look.”

She cast him a wary look, but lifted her hands to push again. Even with both of them shoving at the wall it took time for it to give way. It slid a few inches in and then either age or design made the stones buckle and crumble.

They both fell through the opening, chunks of stone and mortar raining down on them. He lifted his head to ask Briana if she was okay, but the words never made it past his lips.

The hidden room was a treasure trove. Literally.

Mountains of gems and coins and weapons forged in precious metal competed with gems of every shape and size imaginable. Fabric that looked like spun waterfalls was piled two-men tall and twice as deep. Statues and artifacts foreign even to Lucan lined the walls.

“Sweet Avalon,” Briana murmured. She staggered to her feet next to him, and they took a step deeper into the room.

More gems were pressed right into the ceiling and walls.

“Like a needle in a haystack, huh?” Briana stepped into the corridor long enough to grab the torch she’d set aside.

“This isn’t a game.”

She surveyed the mountains of treasure and glanced back at him. “And here I thought we were playing for bragging rights.” He scowled, and she rolled her eyes. “I was joking. Maybe you should spend more time looking for the gems and less pretending like we’re working as some kind of team. We’re competitors now, right?”

The sound of gravel crunching underfoot had them both spinning around. He grabbed Briana and tugged her against the wall, out of immediate sight of the opening. She froze next to him, her gaze locked on the wall. She reached for something, her hand blocking the view. She gripped whatever it was and tugged, her elbow jerking back and knocking into a stand loaded down with ropes of gold and coins two inches thick.

Voices carried down the corridor at the same time the stand that rocked precariously tilted to the side. His hand shot out to steady it, but the jewel encrusted chalice on top was already falling.

He and Briana reached to catch the cup at the same time, and when his fingers grazed the chalice, pain punched through his head, and everything went dark.

“We were told it was time to retire.”

Briana peeked through the opening in her tent. She scowled over her shoulder at her best friend, Sheara, then resumed her watch. In the distance a burst of flame lit up the summer night sky, and voices cheered.

“If you disobey your parents…” Sheara warned.

“Then I’ll be no different than my brothers.” Her brothers who were out there enjoying the festival despite the lateness of the hour.

“Your father—”

“Won’t know.” Briana turned from the door, frowning at the clothes Sheara had discarded in favor of preparing for bed. “You’re truly not coming?”

“And have my own parents refuse to let me accompany you again?”

“We’re no longer children,” Briana argued, but recognized the stubborn light in her friend’s eye. It didn’t matter that Briana was only months from settling into her immortality. Until then, she was expected to respect her parents’ wishes.

Maybe if she was more like Sheara, Briana would be content to go to bed. Knowing her brothers had carried on far later than this when they’d been shy of freezing into their own immortal skin didn’t help. Even now the three were among the hundreds who’d gathered for the celebration. King Arthur’s presence had drawn an even bigger crowd than usual.

“Don’t be too long. Your mother may very well check on us.” Sheara advised, knowing Briana hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility.

Grinning, she crossed the tent to the coverings on the ground that would serve as a bed. She arranged two spare gowns under the covers, as though she’d chosen to sleep in her animal form.

Despite her refusal to come, Sheara laughed and tucked herself in. “Be careful. There are many unfamiliar faces among the King’s men.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to insist no one would harm her for fear of facing her brothers, but knew better. The recent battles as Arthur’s half-sister, Morgana, waged war, with her son at the helm of their armies, had proven there were many in Avalon who couldn’t be trusted.

“Sleep well and I will tell you of my adventures in the morning.” Grinning, Briana slipped from the tent, watching for her brothers should they have left the celebrations in favor of returning to their family’s tents.

It was so unlikely, she nearly laughed out loud at the mere thought.

Hearing voices nearby, Briana ducked around the side of the tent, then another and nearly ran smack into her own parents. Both stood with their backs to her, their laughter rising over the music from a group of musicians close by.

With the sound of her wild heart drowned out by the flutes and drums, she retraced her steps, skirting the edge of the sprawling encampment, watching everyone from a careful distance until she was well away from her family.

She shouldn’t have to skulk around the shadows while her brothers cavorted with friends and warriors alike. Had she been born a male, she would have been able to join the Guard already. She hadn’t yet forgiven Cian for leaving her behind when he’d spent years insisting a life of service was not for him. Meeting Arthur had changed everything for him—for all her brothers—and while they fought for Camelot and Avalon, she was expected to pursue more feminine pastimes.

She kicked at a branch lying across the flattened grass beneath her feet. She paused beneath a twisting tree at the edge of the clearing, watching her clansmen laughing and drinking. Lots of drinking. Music followed her as she rounded the next gathering of tents. Voices mingled and carried, stories of recent skirmishes with Morgana and Mordred’s army competing with epic tales about the first Campaign.

She lingered near a group of men, listening to the tales of a dragon gargoyle so fierce he’d nearly destroyed an entire legion of Mordred’s men. All too quickly the talk turned to other victories, ones that included bedding women.

Having spent so much time with her brothers—both to their and their mother’s annoyance—she wasn’t nearly as innocent as Sheara when it came to men and women. Still, her ears were burning by the time she heard a familiar voice rise above the others in the gathered men.

Her oldest brother, Cale, said something she didn’t catch, but judging by the raunchy laughter that followed, it was just as well. By the time she retreated deeper into the cover of trees, her animal half hungered to run nearly as much the woman hungered to live as she wished and not as expected.

The darkness didn’t affect her vision as she wandered along familiar trails. Earlier that afternoon she’d found not one, but all three of her brothers when they’d questioned her tracking skills. For the third year in a row, she’d tracked each of them easily, enjoying their exasperation a little too much.

Smiling over the memory of that, she edged down a mossy embankment leading to the edge of the lake. Though night had fallen hours before she’d been sent to bed, the warmth of the day lingered.

Lifting her hair off the back of her neck, she picked her way down the steepest part of the hill.

Splash.

She froze, and scanned the surface of the lake. Nothing moved and no scent of nearby animals or gargoyles carried on the breeze.

A fish then?

Unconcerned, she sat beneath the branches of a tree that reached over the lake’s glassy surface. She unlaced her boots, letting her feet touch the dewy grass.

Another splash sounded a moment before her gaze found the dark head that surfaced in the middle of the lake. Too far for her to make out the face, Briana remained still, waiting.

Broad strokes carried him closer, and the man’s feet finally found the bottom of the lake. He stood, his body caught in the moonlight. Scars that might have been hidden in shadow were easy to make out, along with the muscles that defined a warrior’s body.

He glanced up the hill, seemingly unaware of her, and she recognized the face of the boy who’d teased her nearly as much as her own brothers had.

Lucan.

At least four summers had passed since they’d last seen each other, and in moments it became painfully clear that Lucan was far from the childhood boy she remembered.

He waded toward shore, and Briana immediately lowered her gaze, her face heating as he emerged from the water and strode to where his clothes lay in a pile on the narrow, rocky shoreline.

She lifted her head enough to peek through her lowered lashes. She should let him know she was there, but what if he told her brothers he’d seen her wandering about? As much as she welcomed the opportunity to point out the unfairness, she knew from experience—namely her parents’ punishment—that it would be pointless.

So she remained perfectly still, drawing on animal instinct.

Only once more did he glance in her direction, and she didn’t dare look away, knowing even the slightest movement might betray her presence.

Laughter broke the nocturnal quiet, but no one approached the lake. The nearby voices, loud and thick with slurred words, eventually faded to match the muted celebration in the meadow.

Lucan dressed, leaving his shirt for last. The long scar on his back appeared almost silvery under the moon’s light, the mark twisting along the side of his spine and up to his shoulder.

From training to be one of Arthur’s knights?

She knew in a few days’ time he would take his vows and drink from the Grail that would make him immortal like the half-god, Arthur. The event was just one more reason so many had gathered at this year’s festival. Many more would likely follow Arthur on to Tintagel and then Camelot where the ceremony would be completed.

Lucan picked up his sword and threw his shirt over his shoulder, leaving his chest bare as he made his way up the incline.

Briana didn’t move until the soon-to-be immortal disappeared over the hill, likely headed back to join the celebration. She stared at the spot he’d disappeared from view for a long moment, half wishing she’d had the courage to let him know she was there.

She finally stood, waiting for the breeze to confirm she was alone before walking down to the edge of the water. Lucan had certainly looked older than the last time they’d met, more seasoned, as her brothers had when they’d taken up arms for Arthur.

He hadn’t been the only one to change, she thought, glancing down at herself. Would he have noticed she’d left her girlhood behind or still view her as a child the way her brothers did?

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. He was gone now and she knew full well she’d be better off if their paths didn’t cross.

Cool water rushed over her toes, and she sighed in pleasure, tipping her head back to stare at the full moon partially hidden by the trees across the lake.

The breeze shifted, bringing with it the scent of someone directly behind her. A crack sounded and she tensed, prepared to whirl around and face the potential threat, only to be held in place by the arm at her waist.

“You risk much being alone at night, kitten.”

She barely recognized the voice, but the scent she knew.

“Knighthood has made you almost as sneaky as a cat, Luc.” Few could sneak up on her like he’d just done. The wind had favored his approach.

“A compliment from the sharp-witted Briana Callaghan?” He released her and stepped back.

Laughing, she turned around, her heart giving a twist in her chest at the wide grin spreading across his face.

“Be honest. You knew I was there,” he teased.

Briana smiled, deciding not to correct him.

“Skills such as yours would be invaluable to the Guard.” He stooped to pick up her boots as she walked out of the water.

Unsure whether or not he was still teasing, she shook her head. “Tell that to my brothers.” With only a mournful glance at the lake, she walked with him up the hill.

Careful not to let her gaze stray too long to the chest she found nearly as intriguing as the eyes that matched the night-green forest, she debated how to slip away from him.

“They only seek to protect you,” Lucan said.

“They would see me locked in my room with no more than a loom and my parents for company.”

He laughed, the sound making the cat stir under her skin.

“It’s true.” She playfully bumped him with her arm. “They want adventure and to fight for Avalon, and yet I’m expected to cling to my mother’s skirts like a child.”

“An argument I’d be wise not to disagree with under the circumstances.”

Realizing how ridiculous it was to complain to her brothers’ friend of all people, she pressed her lips together.

“You’re not wrong though,” he offered, his expression far more genuine than even Cian’s whenever her brother indulged her complaints of being left behind. “But better to have a brother who would move all of Avalon to keep you safe, than not have one at all.”

The subtle hint of envy in Lucan’s voice surprised her.

He smiled and gestured in the direction of the meadow. “Or did you wish to stay longer and swim? I’d be happy to stand guard as you did.” His eyes dared her to deny that she’d been spying on him.

“I don’t believe you’re qualified.” At the top of the hill, she slipped her boots back on.

“Next time I’ll make note of the particular skill set required.”

She arched a brow. “Planning to strip down and swim for me again so soon? My brothers did insist you were bolder than I realized.”

“Ah, so the truth comes out.” He turned so that he faced her while walking backward. “You’ve asked them about me.”

“How much ale have you been drinking?”

Laughing, he turned back around in time to barely avoid a collision with a tree limb. His grin faded, though the smile remained in his eyes. “You weren’t even going to warn me about that, were you?”

Hiding her smile, she shrugged, keeping an eye on the path in front of them while they continued toward the tree-line. She tried hard to ignore the urge to sneak glances at him from the corner of her eye, failing far more than she succeeded.

Her attention snagged on another scar that bisected his ear. From training or the battlefield?

“It wasn’t nearly as courageous as you’re probably thinking.” Catching her staring, he curved his lips in a cocky grin.

Unsure whether to be annoyed, she settled on watching her feet instead of his face.

“That night I definitely had too much ale to drink,” he confided. “Cian spooked my horse, and it turned out that I wasn’t in any condition to control the beast.”

“Your horse or Cian?”

He burst out laughing and this time she found herself laughing along with him. Lucan bumped into her, his body soft and hard all at the same time and inviting her to lean closer. Her laughter faded, replaced by the warming twirls of butterflies that heated her stomach to a low simmer.

Lucan’s smile slipped away, his gaze serious and altogether impossible to look away from. For a moment she imagined he was about to step toward her, then he glanced out at the meadow.

Resigned to part ways, she watched people talking, singing and dancing around various fires lighting up the meadow. “Is it too much to ask that you don’t mention this to my brothers?”

“You’re retiring?” Something that mirrored disappointment flashed across his face. “The festival is pretty exhausting.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Then where are you going?”

Words escaped her. Although she’d half-expected him to do everything but walk her back to her tent, she’d sooner lick a Korrigan’s black toes than go to bed now.

“Come on then.” His slow smile was devastating. He grabbed her hand, leading her toward the celebration instead of away from it.

Chapter Eight

Lucan stopped next to a tent, snatching a piece of fabric off a rope hung for clothing. “Here.” He draped the fabric over her head, his fingers unusually clumsy as he tried to tie it beneath Briana’s chin.

Had her eyes always been so impossibly blue? The bottomless cobalt shade almost glowed around the edges.

A faint smile teased the corners of her mouth, and he hurried to finish the knot.

“There. To avoid being noticed by your family.” He smoothed the few loose strands away from her face, his fingers lingering far too long against her skin.

Briana Callaghan.

He wouldn’t have thought he’d remember her face, but the moment she’d tipped her face up in the moonlight, he’d felt the recognition like the hilt of a sword to the gut.

“Lucan?”

Letting his hand drop back to his side—a much safer place for it should any of her brothers spot them—and met her gaze.

“Where should we go?” The impish grin he remembered had blossomed into a stunning smile. No wonder her brothers were so protective.

Waiting, she cocked her head, and he remembered she’d asked him something. He’d blame the ale except he’d hardly had any all night. There might be a festival happening around them, but Arthur never let an opportunity pass to strategize with his men.

That left the woman herself responsible for the fact he couldn’t keep his thoughts from bumbling around in his head like one of Merlin’s sprites.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction at the corners. “Are you teasing me? Did my brothers put you up to this?”

“No.” He just hadn’t come up with a reasonable answer to her earlier question. The overwhelming urge to steal her away for a while longer where he alone could enjoy her company left him in unfamiliar territory.

Guilt snaked through him, a reminder of what was expected of him—what had always been expected of him.

“We’ll go anywhere you’d like.” Lucan pulled his shirt on, then reached for her hand again, unable to help himself. A dangerous action—one that would have his friends wanting to claw him apart. Though he was closest to the youngest Callaghan brother, he knew full well Cale and Tristan would be equally unimpressed with the direction of his thoughts.

But still he didn’t let go.

The crowd gradually thickened as they wove around tents to join the fun. Someone thrust a mug of ale into his hand, and then Briana’s. He watched her lift the glass to her lips and take a long drink without making a face.

Around them people sang and laughed, spinning exaggerated tales of Arthur in battle. Listening to them, a stranger would be convinced the half-god king was nearly ten feet tall and Excalibur forever stained red with the blood of his enemies. Few tales involved Arthur’s diplomatic strides to keep peace in Avalon.

They lingered through numerous accounts, each one more violent and graphic than the one before, Briana’s fingers alternately tightening around his as the storytellers cast their spells, drawing her in. Lucan contented himself with watching the pleasure of the experience light up her face, though she’d probably heard the same stories hundreds of times before.

Something else drew her attention, and she tugged him after her. Ahead of them, the crowd broke apart, surging toward them. Briana staggered backward, knocking into him. He caught her waist, her body leaning into his chest.

She laughed at the crowd and smiled at him over her shoulder.

Hypnotic. The effect she had on him—each glance more piercing, each touch more penetrating—confused as much as it enthralled him.

If she noticed he held onto her longer than necessary, she gave no indication, plunging back into the boisterous crowd and dragging him along with her. She changed direction mid-stride, leading him toward those gathered around two men in the midst of fighting one another.

Arthur wouldn’t be happy, Lucan thought, then recognized the two men battling with wooden swords. He watched Briana from the corner of his eyes, noting the second she realized who they were.

“Arthur?” she whispered under her breath, eyes wide.

Nodding, he maneuvered her closer.

Dirt-covered and grinning like the troublemaker he’d been in his past, Arthur kept his guard up, his movements slower, but more precise than the man opposite him. Constantine’s expression was far more serious, proving his reputation for smiling about as often as he lost a fight.

Their swords clashed as the two men grappled for the advantage, dodging blows and knowing when to get out of each other’s way. The size of their mock arena widened, more people venturing close to watch the match.

Arthur blocked a low strike, spinning in preparation of Constantine’s counter-move. One step ahead, the king knocked his heir backward. A knowing slash of lips broke the stoic mold on Constantine’s face.

Few men had been in a position to accept the responsibility of wielding Excalibur should anything happen to Arthur, and on more than one occasion Constantine had proven the most suited for the role. Had Arthur gotten around to marrying, as his people routinely encouraged, a blood-bound heir wouldn’t have been necessary.

Constantine lunged forward, nailing Arthur in the side. The momentum knocked Arthur off his feet.

The cheering crowd went silent.

“Will he be punished?”

Arthur laughed before Lucan had time to answer Briana’s question. Their king held up a hand, gripping Constantine’s forearm as the knight helped him to his feet. Those gathered surrounded the men, many talking at once.

Briana turned away, her gaze wistful.

“Your brothers are right, you know. The Guard is no place—”

“For a female,” she finished, not sounding convinced. “Women are just as capable.”

He rounded the closest tent, looking to make sure she followed before leaving his own sword and grabbing two wooden ones from the pile on the ground. When they were closer to the forest, he tossed one of the training weapons to her.

She surprised him by catching it, though her hand clenched uncertainly around the hilt.

He gestured to the tip of the sword. “You want to try to hit me with the pointy end.”

And just that quickly her mood shifted, challenge brightening her eyes. “I appreciate the clarification.”

Lucan circled her. “Being part of the Guard is more than just being capable. Your instinct needs to be honed as sharply as the blade on a real sword. You must be able to read your opponent’s eyes.”

He struck, but she blocked him, fumbling her sword in the process. By the time she recovered, he’d circled behind her.

“And you never want them to get too close.”

She spun around, her sword coming up in time to brush his throat. “Perhaps you should keep your distance then.”

How was it possible to be so impressed and aroused at the same time? With every swing of her weapon, she grinned wider, her steps increasingly bolder. While she failed to get so close again, she was surprisingly adept at blocking many of his attempts to knock the weapon out of her hand.

When he finally succeeded, between bouts of laughter that had drawn a small crowd of their own, she dove for the lost blade, reclaiming it with her wrong hand. Intent on taking advantage, he moved in to relieve her of the weapon entirely.

With a growl that was dangerously animal, she blocked him again, much too efficiently.

“Cian’s trained you to use a sword with both hands.”

She offered a secretive smile, her fingers flexing comfortably around the grip. “What are my eyes telling you now?”

“That you may be in over your head, kitten.”

Laughing, she went on the offensive, giving him more than enough time to note a weak spot he could exploit. He slashed up and across with his blade. Briana flinched under the force of the strike, but kept hold of her sword. Needing only another second, Lucan eased back a fraction—and ended up on his ass.

Briana didn’t waste a second, her weapon poised at his throat, her cat eyes hauntingly wild. “Do you yield?”

“Bested by a woman, Luc?” Constantine moved away, probably to avoid Lucan stabbing the foot that tripped him. “Perhaps you should stick with your horse and fancy spears.” He glanced at Briana. “No one is better than our own La—”

“Perhaps she should be among the Guard, after all.” Arthur joined them, his presence seeming to indicate the mock battle was over and sending the onlookers off in search of more entertainment.

“Forgive me for not curtsying, your highness.” She didn’t take her eyes off Lucan. “I don’t trust your knight not to retaliate.”

Arthur frowned. “Against a woman?”

“It’s not the retaliation I fear.” Her lips twitched. “But embarrassing him further.”

The rough and rich sound of Arthur’s laughter rent the air as he bent, offering an arm to help Lucan up. “Your family is no doubt proud of having another warrior in the family, Lady Briana. Your brothers often brag about their talented baby sister.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “I assure you, I am no child.”

“As Lucan can attest to.” Although Constantine’s lips were pressed into a flat line, Lucan knew the bastard wanted to laugh.

Her cheeks flushed. “I should go.”

Arthur touched her arm, his eyes as perceptive as ever. “Your brothers won’t hear of this if that is your wish,” he reassured her. “Though personally, I think you should claim responsibility. It’s a rare occasion that finds my friend at anyone’s mercy.” He nodded at Lucan.

“Very rare,” Constantine added, drawing a real sword from the scabbard he carried. “Although once they see this, more than just your brothers will have questions.” He offered her the weapon.

Briana’s mouth nearly fell open. “The Blade of the Black Heart?” Her fingers traced the dark etchings that ran the length of the sword.

Constantine nodded. “It’s yours.”

She jerked her hand back as though she’d been burned. “I can’t accept it. You need it to fight Morgana—”

“Any sword will do to slay the sorceress should I ever get close enough.” He shot a sidelong glance at Arthur, whose shoulders tensed at the mention of his half-sister.

“It would be an insult to reject such a gift,” Arthur said.

Not waiting for an answer, Constantine closed her fingers over the hilt.

Possessiveness, hot and sharp, snapped through Lucan. Having absolutely no claim on her or even the freedom to make one, he clenched his jaw and remained quiet. Arthur studied him, something unreadable passing in his oldest friend’s eyes, then he fixed his attention on Briana.

“My knight may think more carefully about approaching you now.”

Uncertain, Briana’s gaze sought Lucan’s, and he nodded, encouraging her to take it. The only thing fiercer than the weapon known for cutting a deadly path through the battlefield was the woman in front of him, yearning to be a warrior like her brothers.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she tested the weight of the blade, turning from Lucan to talk with Arthur, who ushered her ahead of him.

“Careful, my friend.” Constantine lowered his voice. “That one is not a plaything.”

He resisted the urge to rub the unsettling tightness in his chest. “It’s the only thing I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then take care. You risk much—”

“I will take my vows.” He hadn’t for a moment forgotten his duties and what he’d worked hard to build with Arthur.

Constantine laughed, slapping him on the back. “I was going to say, you risk much by turning from such a formidable female.” He broke away to catch up to the others, handing Briana the scabbard for the blade, a piece almost as equally impressive as the sword itself.

Then he and Arthur headed in the direction of their tents.

Alone with Briana once more, Lucan knew it was time to escort her back to her family’s tents. Maybe then he could ignore the overwhelming sensation to hold onto her for as long as he could.

They stuck close to the dark tree-line as they worked their way back across the meadow. She would have enough questions to face in the morning without running into one of her brothers now.

Briana said little on their trek back, though he sensed there were things she wanted to ask. Worried he might not be able to say no to any request she made, he picked up the pace making conversation difficult, and making it impossible to avoid the scene they walked into when they rounded the next grouping of tents.

Hidden in the shadows of the trees, two bodies were wrapped up in each other, clothes already half peeled off—the woman’s—the sounds of their moaning teasing the air.

He stopped, and distracted by her sword, Briana plowed right into him. Keeping them both upright was nearly as challenging as pretending he didn’t love every moment of her pressed up against him.

“This way,” he whispered, leading her into the woods, giving the couple a wide berth.

Guessing his reason for changing directions, she fell into step beside him, her footing more sure than his own on the uneven terrain. “I am aware that mated couples kiss now and then. Even unmated ones.” He heard the smile in her voice, and the mischievous look was back in her eyes. “You do know that Merlin didn’t simply leave me at my parents door one day?” She bent her head conspiratorially. “Or do you still believe in gnomes that bring treats in exchange for lost teeth as well?”

“Wench,” he teased. “And what would you know about kissing?” Somehow, he doubted her brothers knew anything about that.

“Kissing? I know about a lot more than—”

Groaning at the tantalizing images their conversation was about to inspire, he cut her off. “Just answer the question.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, thinking it over. “I can only say that I’ve been told I’m rather good at it.”

“According to…” he prompted, realizing too late that he was fairly sure he didn’t want to know the answer.

“My friend, Vaughn.”

He made a sound of disgust. “The boy always trailing after Cian?”

“Boy?” Briana laughed. “He’s barely a season younger than you are.”

“And one kiss makes you a rather good at it?”

“Who said anything about just one?” Her eyes twinkled, and she stopped. “You almost sound like I couldn’t handle more, or maybe just not yours. The same as I couldn’t handle your sword game?”

Lucan lunged for her, catching her around the waist before she could bolt, and hauling her to his chest.

Briana read the playful intent on Lucan’s face as easily as she had her brothers’ tracks that afternoon, but couldn’t evade capture. Not that she really wanted to.

“If you’re not prepared to use it…” he trailed off, angling his head at the sword jammed between them.

She let it fall to the ground at their feet. “I could say the same to you.” Her gaze strayed to his mouth that felt only a breath away.

Even if she’d had the chance, she wouldn’t have run. Wouldn’t have missed the feel of his arms trapping her against him, or the rapid rise and fall of his chest, as though his heart was racing too.

Lucan watched her, his expression unreadable. Gods, had she only imagined he felt the same feverish spark every time they touched?

Losing some of her courage, she shook her head. “If there is somewhere else you need to be—”

Something dark and a little bit feral flashed in his eyes. There was barely a second to prepare, and then his mouth closed over hers.

Sweet Avalon…

Hot and raw and mindlessly thorough, the kiss assaulted her senses. She clutched his shoulders, the whimper that broke between them coming from someplace deep inside her. Kissing Vaughn, even if it hadn’t been an experience they’d vowed never to repeat, could never have prepared her for the half-starved sweep of Lucan’s lips across hers.

Gargoyles were known for their dominant natures, but the brutal possession in Lucan’s kiss rocked her to the core, awakening an unfamiliar hunger. It stretched and reached inside her, craving more of the slick and scorching strokes of his tongue against hers.

Sliding her hands up the back of his neck, she sank her fingers into the ends of his hair. Her lips parted for him again and again as she found and matched the merciless rhythm. She’d never seen Lucan fight, but if he went into battle with even a fraction of the intensity that spilled over into her, she couldn’t imagine a soul touching him.

His teeth grazed her bottom lip. Sucking slow and hard, he pulled it between his own, drawing out the pleasure that spiked her bloodstream. Fitting herself closer to him, she indulged in his heat and strength, wanting to kiss him longer, deeper.

The certainty that she would never get enough of it—of him—punched straight through her chest. Nearly panting, she pulled back, pressing her fingers to her already swollen mouth.

Green eyes held her gaze carefully, an eerily calm lake on the surface, but with a fierce current raging beneath.

No, she hadn’t imagined anything. He felt it too.

Lucan didn’t try to stop her as she backed out of his arms, then she turned and ran. “You’ll have to catch me if you want more.”

“Briana,” he hissed after her, but she’d already left him behind, not caring if anyone heard them.

Knowing he’d follow, she let her cat rise close to the surface, guiding her as she lifted her gown to duck beneath branches and leap over fallen limbs and roots that turned the forest floor into a map of gnarled ropes.

She paused long enough to remove her boots, and ran until the celebration in the meadow had faded entirely, leaving only the woodland creatures to reach her ears when she finally slowed. It would have been easy to lose Lucan altogether, making it more of a challenge to leave a trail he could follow.

She tipped her face up.

A trail she could watch from above.

Grinning, she pulled herself up into the tree that split in two, twin trunks fighting for the moonlight. As comfortable moving among the leaves and branches as she was with the earth beneath her feet, she settled herself in the crook between the trunks, one leg tucked beneath her.

Surprisingly, Lucan didn’t leave her waiting for long.

He came into view moments later, bursting through the undergrowth. He slowed, crouching to study the ground. Carrying both her boots and her sword—what on earth had possessed her to leave such a gift behind?—he took another few steps, then paused to look at the twigs left broken when she’d passed.

When he studied her tracks for another moment only to turn in the wrong direction, she called out, “Do you always tromp through the woods like a drunken troll?”

Lucan laughed, spotting her easily. “If you’re waiting for me to come up there and get you—”

Pushing off, she jumped from the tree, and found only her boots and her sword on the ground. She turned, but he was already behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he had at the lake. He was much too fast for a human.

“Giving in already?” His lips moved against her neck.

Her eyes drifted shut, and she leaned into him. His groan of approval made the tightening low in her belly clench harder.

The heat from his palm warmed her through her gown, and she watched as he drew the backs of his fingers up her ribs, catching the side of her breast. A yearning so foreign, and so perfectly right, pulsed under her skin in delicious anticipation.

She tipped her head back, watching him. Eyes hooded with seductive intent, he continued to explore her, his feather-light touch growing bolder until she cried out when he finally closed his palm around her.

His thumb circled the tip of her nipple, increasing the throbbing pleasure that tugged between her thighs.

“Briana.” He groaned into her neck, his grip unbreakable. He turned her in his arms, his mouth finding hers, devouring her all over again. “We should go back, before it’s too late. Before I…” He sighed, the sound caught somewhere between regret and heartbreak.

“Before you realize exactly how good I am at this?” she teased.

“You seek to torment me.”

“No.” She pressed her hand to his heart. “I only seek to know you.”

He looked away. “What you find there may disappoint you.”

She bit his bottom lip. “Never.”

He smoothed the tangled strands of hair back from her face. After running through the woods, she had no doubt what she must look like, but she felt too alive to care. A silent war seemed to wage in Lucan’s head, and more than once he glanced past her in the direction they’d come from.

She felt more than saw the moment when he gave up on whatever would have pulled him away from her.

His thumb stroked the length of her jaw, the kiss he stole from her mouth overwhelming in its intensity. If he’d been possessive before, now every place he touched felt like a predatory brand that marked her bone-deep.

His fingers snagged the laces at the back of her gown, and she closed her eyes as the material slipped down her body to pool at her feet. If there had been a chill in the air, she wouldn’t have felt it, not beneath the gaze—pure ravenous heat at its core—that held her in place.

The night seemed to hold its breath.

She moved into his arms, and no step had taken so little effort or taken her so very far.

Lucan couldn’t stop from touching her.

Everywhere.

Spellbound by every blissful sound she made, drugged by the wild scent of her—crushed wildflowers and rainstorms—and drowning in the softness of her skin, he craved only to please her, the need poised to consume him completely.

Caging her hands in his palms, he captured her mouth—so soft and lush—in another kiss that spiraled away from him. She didn’t protest the way he ravaged her mouth, didn’t question the staggering thirst she unleashed inside him.

He drank from the sweetest lips, savoring every molten taste, losing a little more of his control. Later he could kill the gargoyle who’d dared to kiss her before, but for now he sought only to sample every inch of her.

Her tongue slid into his mouth, and he fisted a hand in her hair. She nipped at his jaw, daringly playful. “How can I barely breathe and still feel like I could run for miles?” Like fragile silk over heated-steel, her voice weakened him further.

He drew his thumb across her bare shoulder, her skin so pale and delicate compared to his sun-darkened hand, rough from training. “Maybe you should run.”

“You’d never catch me.”

The gut wrenching certainty that he would never stop until he found her kept him from agreeing. He bent, pressing his mouth to the slope of her neck.

She shivered in his arms, her nails lightly raking his chest. Her fingers brushed the edge of his shirt, lingering at the hem, but then too quickly fell away. Sensing her hesitation, he tugged it off and was rewarded with a soft sigh of feminine appreciation.

With Arthur and Constantine for company, he’d grown accustomed to women watching him, but never had he felt so exposed, at her mercy, as she stood there, drinking him in.

One by one, her gaze traced the scars on his body. He’d forgotten how many he’d picked up over the years, never once self-conscious of the healed wounds—until she drew an invisible path between each one. First with her fingers. Then her mouth.

Exquisite and agonizing, each caress burned a little hotter, a little deeper. Clenching his fists, he indulged her curiosity, welcomed the satin sweep of skin across skin. As though he hadn’t fully healed, she used only the barest pressure to explore him.

Her dark head bent with every pass, her palms heating up his already feverish skin.

The girl he’d teased, intrigued by in ways he hadn’t understood then, was now a remarkable woman with a spirit he wanted to chain himself to in hopes of forever holding onto some small part of her. Love was impossible for him—almost as impossible as being so taken with a woman he hadn’t seen in years—but the knotting ache under his heart said otherwise.

Unable to take any more of the blissful tenderness that could throw a stronger man off balance, Lucan tipped her head up, taking her lips with his.

Her tongue, greedy and increasingly demanding, pushed into his mouth. With as much care as he could manage, he pulled her down, her gown half covering the mossy ground beneath them as he came down on top of her.

Lips shiny, eyes sparking with an inner fire that ensnared him completely, she stared up at him waiting. He closed his eyes, lulled by the glide of her fingertips up his spine, and aroused by the squeeze of her thighs around his hips.

So fucking aroused.

She arched her hips, rubbing against his cock in slow, needy circles. Through the thin material of his pants, he could feel how warm and wet she was.

For him.

Sliding down her body, he palmed her breast. The tips—already hard—beckoned him, and he lowered his head. She gripped the back of his head, her claws lightly raking when he pulled her into his mouth. Rolling his tongue across her nipple, he released her only to draw her back in with a slow, greedy suck.

He couldn’t stop from grinding against her, the length of him throbbing, wanting inside her.

“Luc.” She licked her lips, and he rose up to conquer the lush mouth that was meant for him—just like the rest of her. Every sigh, every freckle, every strand of hair the color of the darkest ale.

Gripping her hips, he lifted her, sliding a palm beneath. There he could rub her ass, changing the angle as he pressed against her. Her whimper of pleasure filled his mouth, and he teased with his tongue, drawing another soft cry from her.

“I need…” Her breath caught, and he deepened the kiss, letting it spin out of control. Reveling in it. In her.

“Tell me,” he managed when he could speak.

She shook her head, but captured his hand and brought it to her thigh.

Watching the pleasure drift across her face, he dragged his fingers upward. Already damp for him, she parted her legs, letting him slide higher, through the slick moisture waiting for him at her core.

She never once looked away from him, not even when he raised his fingertips to his mouth. She bit her lip as he sampled her, letting her scent and taste fill his senses. Starved for her, his cock pulsed, the need to be inside her stealing over every inch of his body.

She wasn’t ready yet, but he’d get her there, to a place where she would writhe beneath him, her cries echoing against his ear.

Finding the slick knot between her folds, he circled in lazy strokes.

“Luc,” she hissed, her hands digging into his shoulders.

Resting on one elbow, he trapped each shuddering whimper between his lips, stretched every sensitized cry into a wild kiss nearly as untamed as the woman in his arms.

Back and forth, he drew his fingers through her wet folds, felt her become even wetter. She just might melt in his hand, he thought, her body trembling as he pushed her closer to release. Her hips lifted, rocking to every thrum across her clit.

So very close.

Panting, her chest rose and fell, her breasts rubbing against him. The hunger to move inside her, thrusting hard, raced across his skin, pulling tight. With his mouth on hers, his tongue sliding fast and deep, he traced her damp seam, flicking over and around her clit.

She moaned low and deep, her body tightening, trembling so perfectly. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, the flush of color across her cheeks so striking it was impossible to look away, giving him the most amazing view as she finally shattered in his arms.

Desperate and needing her in a way he couldn’t remember ever needing anything, he shoved his pants out of the way. The head of his cock slid through her wetness, and forgetting to breathe, he pushed inside her.

Briana cried out, and he froze, staring down at her. He should stop, he knew it, but the moment the decision to pull away penetrated his sex-drenched haze, Briana wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her.

He didn’t deserve the gift she offered him, wasn’t sure he even deserved the tentative smile that wedged under his ribs.

“Please,” she murmured, the ragged plea almost destroying him.

Sliding a hand beneath her head, he lifted her to meet his mouth. Deliberately soft, he licked and stroked with his tongue, nipped and raked with his teeth.

Coiled so damn tight, the merest bump of her hips capable of snapping him in two, Lucan surrendered to the deepest parts she touched within him. He couldn’t allow himself to fall in love with her, but he could make sure every kiss, every lingering touch, every slow thrust left her quaking inside as hard as he was.

When her nails raked his back, her hips rocking again, he pressed deeper inside her.

They both groaned, the sounds raw and breathless and like they both might be losing their minds.

Every pump of his hips—slow, so achingly slow—heightened the sensations pummeling him. But he didn’t thrust any faster, didn’t bury every inch in hard, furious strokes. If he did, the pleasure just might kill him. The brutal heat of it thumped through him, sweet and scorching.

Her soft cries bled into each other, her hips lifting to fit so snuggly against him he grit his teeth as if it would hold off the tide rising swift and sharp.

“Briana,” he choked out, locking their fingers and burying his face against her throat.

Riding the fine edge of release, he drove into her, felt the silken heat spasm around him, tugging him deeper. Caught in a savage free-fall, like someone had shoved him from the highest tower in Camelot, he held on to her.

One last wild thrust and he burst apart, pumping hard and fast and knowing somehow she would catch him, hold him just as tight.

A sharp tug on his hair, and she dragged him back to her mouth, the feral possession in her kiss a blow to the heart that pounded in time with hers.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, the languid strokes of her fingers down his back finally returning him to awareness. Rising up on his elbows, he couldn’t stop from crushing his mouth on hers once more, willing her to understand that tonight meant more than he would ever be able to tell her.

All too soon she would turn from him, but right in this moment, she was his. Smart and beautiful and holding a piece of him that he hadn’t planned on giving anyone.

Savaged by the depth of his feelings, he lifted himself away from her, but wasn’t ready to let her go. He pulled her across his chest, letting his eyes close as her cheek settled over his heart.

“My family will be retiring soon, if they haven’t already,” she said long minutes later. “I need to go back.”

The refusal perched on his lips, but he clenched his jaw, silencing it. Dropping a kiss to his chest, she stood and picked up her dress. She slipped it up her body, drawing her hair to one side as she smiled at him over her shoulder.

Waiting for him to fix the laces?

He stood and gripped her hips, tugging her against his chest. He let her scent wash over and through him, memorizing it, then took a step back to fix her gown. Her smile was infectious, and he caught himself returning it many times as he readied himself to leave.

They walked back through the forest, reaching the meadow much too quickly.

She glanced in the direction of her family’s tents. Cheeks still flushed, gown wrinkled and hair tousled like she’d been rolling around in the forest, she couldn’t have looked more incredible to him. But anyone she passed would take one look at her and guess what she’d been up to.

“This way.” He grabbed her hand, leading her back toward his tent, which was much closer and at the edge of the forest where they’d be less likely to run across anyone. A quick stop there would give her the opportunity to tidy up and him a few more precious minutes with her.

Drops of rain splattered the grass at their feet, quickening their steps.

After confirming that no one paid them any notice, Lucan drew back the door to his tent, ushered her inside. “There’s water—” He stopped at the sight of the woman waiting inside.

Her grin faded the moment she noticed he wasn’t alone. “Hello.”

Briana stopped next to him, confusion giving way to a guarded expression. She glanced at him, her fingers slipping free of his when he all he wanted to do was cling to them.

“You should return to your family.” The words didn’t even sound like his. The detached tone reminded him of his father and the day he’d found out he was expected to marry the woman standing so still in front of him.

Lucan’s stomach churned, frustration and anger rising close to the surface, held in place only by the guilt that felt far worse than anything else. He forced himself to meet Briana’s eyes.

Her lips parted, understanding darkening the eyes that would haunt him for a long time to come he was sure.

He handed her Constantine’s sword. “We’ll speak tomorrow.”

She didn’t tell him to throw himself onto a pyre and burn, nor did she nod. She turned and walked away without a sound.

Alone in the tent, he crossed his arms. “What are you doing here, Gwen?”

She pulled her hood up, hiding her dark hair. “It was a mistake to come.” She walked past him.

Although he remained just as frustrated, his anger slipped away. He’d never been able to be mad at Gwen, not since they’d been children. He let out a breath. “Does he know you’re here?”

She stopped, shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face knowing Arthur wouldn’t quite see it that way.

“Do you care for her?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Like Gwen, it was all he would allow himself to say. Neither of them had any choice, their fate decided by their parents long ago.

Long after Gwen left, insisting she’d made other arrangements, he paced the confines of his tent, torn between leaving now and going to talk to Briana. Undecided, he walked outside, not caring that he was drenched in seconds.

He sat on the crate outside the door, tipping his face up to the stinging drops. Something fell against his foot and he glanced down to see what he knocked over.

The Blade of the Black Heart.

Chapter Nine

Lucan saw the blood the moment he opened his eyes and turned his head. A trail of crimson trickled from the corner of Briana’s mouth. She lay motionless on the ground next to him.

What the hell happened? Panic tried sinking greasy claws into his stomach but he knew allowing that wouldn’t help her.

The back of his head pulsed in pressure-filled thumps that beat in sync with his still racing heart. He recognized the treasure room they’d discovered in the tunnels beneath Tintagel castle, but more torches blazed on the wall than he remembered. The ground felt cool beneath him, his skin still so hot his whole body felt flushed.

They hadn’t been here moments ago. They’d been somewhere else, somewhere… Details bled together in his mind—the taste of Briana’s lips, the smell of wildflowers on her skin, the tightening of her arms around him.

And then he’d made her do the last thing he wanted—leave.

“Briana?”

Willing her to open her eyes, Lucan sat up. Nausea jackknifed through his midsection, nearly doubling him over.

Son of a bitch.

He sucked in a sharp breath, then another.

“Briana.” He reached for her hand, cursing at the glacial chill that snapped through him as his fingers wrapped around hers.

“Finally.”

It would have taken a hell of a lot more than nausea to stop him from rolling to his feet at the sound of the voice.

He planted himself between Briana and Nessa, his sword drawn. His vision swam at the edges and he could swear the ground felt ready to slide out from beneath him, but he remained on his feet. The left side of his jaw throbbed, but the twisting inside his chest felt worse.

Briana still hadn’t moved.

She’d been fine moments ago. Laughing and smiling and teasing him. And then she’d kissed him. Melted into him, her body fitting perfectly against his, like she’d been made for him.

She should be there now, not lying there so still she could have been…

The wraith grappled for control, fighting toward full consciousness, prepared to lunge for the huntress. Someone needed to suffer for what happened to Briana.

Nessa held up both hands. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

A ripped shirt and scorch marks that revealed bubbled pink flesh on the huntress’s thigh told him that she’d definitely been trying to hurt someone. Maybe it hadn’t been Briana this time, but he wasn’t inclined to trust her.

“How long?” He wanted to kneel next to Briana and do more than be sure she was still breathing, but didn’t take his eyes off Nessa.

“You two were frozen in some kind of weird tableau. I don’t long how long you were like that. I was starting to think you were going to be permanent candidates for a wax museum. What happened?”

He shook his head, not altogether sure of that himself. He remembered hearing someone coming down the tunnel and grabbing Briana’s hand and then they’d been somewhere else.

They’d been home.

“I tried snapping her out of it,” Nessa continued, keeping a safe distance between them, “but nothing worked.”

He glanced at Briana’s swollen mouth. “You hit her?”

“Don’t get your shadow tied up in knots, Peter Pan. I hit you too.”

Was that supposed to make him better? Jesus. “I thought we were frozen.”

She nodded and finally lowered her hands. “You were until a minute ago. Then you both dropped faster than an enchantress’s panties. You woke up before I could decide what to do next.”

Keeping an eye on the huntress, he edged closer to Briana.

Nessa took a step toward him, her fingers inching ever so slowly toward the twin blades strapped to her upper thighs. “Wait. How do I know you didn’t do something to her?”

The wraith snapped and clawed at the accusation, but he kept himself from attacking her. “I promised Tristan I would keep Briana safe.”

The huntress cocked her head. “You should know better than anyone about making promises you can’t keep.”

“Luc?”

Keeping the huntress in his peripheral vision, he dropped to the ground next to Briana.

Confusion clouded her eyes, her gaze darting around the hidden chamber. “How did we get here? I went to your tent…” She tried to sit up.

“Slowly,” he advised, slipping an arm around her back.

She settled into his embrace, the rightness of her there a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost. He’d have to let her go, but with memories of her lost in the moment, her body arching so sweetly into him, he couldn’t pull away. Not yet.

The decision was ripped from his hands as Briana frowned and her eyes snapped to his. The longest moment of his life passed, and he knew that she’d relived the same memory—the very same one that was a still a living, breathing brand on his mind.

Ours. The wraith quieted, but the instinctual claim was anything but.

She stiffened in his arms, leaning away from him. “I’m fine.”

“B?” Nessa looked primed to make a move.

If the huntress thought to separate them, he’d happily show her how easily he could separate her from her weapons. Without them there was no wounding him, no evening the odds in a competition that was nothing more than a good time for bored gods. Nessa might be just as determined to win the games, but she really needed to stop looking like she was all too happy to bury a blade in his back.

Briana pushed to her feet, and doubled over.

On instinct he reached for her, but the blue depths of her eyes turned to ice. “It’ll pass in a couple of minutes,” he offered.

Which was more than he could say about the memory continuing to replay in the back of his mind. He kept waiting to forget the smell of her hair or the contagious sound of her laughter.

She staggered upright, but when he stepped in to steady her, she avoided him.

“She needs a minute,” Nessa said quietly.

He hadn’t realized he’d moved toward Briana again until the huntress’s words stopped him. He knew he should stay away from her, but couldn’t make himself walk away from the choking waves of disappointment and anger that radiated from Briana.

She was hurting and it was his fault. God damn it, he’d warned her that night in the meadow. He knew he hadn’t deserved her, and instead of doing the right thing, he’d been selfish. And she’d paid the price.

He turned around to find Nessa had left them. He stared at the opening in the wall, willing himself to take a step toward it.

“I waited.”

A cold fist gripped his stomach. He glanced over his shoulder.

“That night, outside your tent,” Briana clarified. She took two steps toward him, her anger reminding him that she was as much a predator as he was. “I waited. I kept thinking there was no way you wanted to spend the night with her. No way you could be so amazing with me and then make me leave to be with someone else. I knew you felt what was between us.” She laughed, the sound strained. “I had myself convinced of that, so I waited. Even when it started to pour, I didn’t move.”

He hadn’t known.

“And I was right.” Her smile bordered on bitter. “She didn’t stay, but you didn’t come looking for me either. You never came for me.”

It took two tries to get the words out. “It was a long time ago.”

“Really? Because it feels like just moments ago to me. Except this time I know better than to wait for you.”

“Briana!”

“Stay away from me, Lucan.” She turned away, but he didn’t miss the glossy shine in her eyes she masked with a murderous glare.

Walking in the other direction was almost as hard as sending her from his tent, and left him fighting both his desire and the wraith the whole way.

Briana leaned against the wall of the tunnel. She’d underestimated the continued effect Lucan would have on her. One minute her body felt utterly quiet, the cat content to be alone, and the next his touch unleashed a vicious hurricane inside her.

Worse than that, though, she’d underestimated the lengths the gods would go to keep her and every other competitor off balance.

It made her even more determined to win.

She reluctantly set her sword aside, using the torch to see the stone she pulled from her pocket. She’d grabbed it and stuffed it into her pants a heartbeat before she and Lucan both stupidly reached to catch the chalice that had catapulted them down memory lane.

It shouldn’t still hurt so much, yet her heart felt bruised. Everything about that night with Lucan had been so incredible, right up until the moment she realized he had already pledged himself to another.

The woman in his tent hadn’t been the type to follow Arthur’s camp of men from place to place, available to anyone willing to pay. Her expensive clothes and air of nobility told a different story, as did the open affection and trace of hurt Briana had caught on the woman’s face before she’d been sent on her way.

She hadn’t been so naïve as to think being with Lucan had changed his loyalty to Arthur or his plans. He’d been set to drink from the Grail and swear his vows, though having seen him with Arthur, she suspected the latter was just a formality. But she’d hoped she would see Lucan again soon and that maybe someday…

She’d never been able to bring herself to ask her brothers about the woman with Lucan, and they’d never said a word about him marrying. They’d never spoken of any other unions except Arthur’s, really, and even the god-king had been married barely a year before everything had changed.

“Don’t think about it,” she whispered, concentrating on the red stone that glinted in the torch light. Later she could mourn for the young woman she used to be.

She closed her fist over the gem and shoved it back in her pocket.

Okay. One down…two to go.

Pushing off from the wall, she threw herself into the search. It was impossible to know how much time passed as she navigated the endless tunnels and caverns. Occasionally she would hear a roar or yell echo through the cavern, and tightened her hand on her weapon, but she didn’t come across anyone.

The air gradually cooled, the walls darkening with shards of black crystal sharp enough to maim jutting from the walls and ceiling. Inch by inch the crystal overtook the walls until she entered a cavern that appeared coated in black ice, broken by sections of the impaling crystal.

Here the air was crisp and a trace of ash rode on the air. The dragon?

Pinning down a trail was difficult when the crystal surface didn’t absorb much scent. She continued forward, debated shifting to her cat form. She wouldn’t be as hindered by the dim lighting and would easily blend into her surroundings.

Warmth pulsed in her pocket. Resisting the urge to check that the stone was glowing, she tightened her hand on her sword. Kel had doubled back and she’d just become the prey.

The air stirred behind her, and she ducked to avoid the fist that snaked out to grab her. Spinning around, she found Kel too close. Unable to dodge his next punch, the glancing blow caught her across the chin.

She kicked out, nailing him in the abdomen. It was like hitting a utility pole.

He grunted, but managed a smile colder than the crystal she brushed up against. “Give it to me.”

“No.”

He pursued when she retreated, moving around the mounds of crystal she tried to keep between them. Though she was a bit out of practice, she kept her body loose, staying on the balls of her feet, never taking her eyes off Kel.

“The knight was right. You should have left when you had the chance.”

“Sorry I deprived you of the chance to see me torn apart.”

Pure reptilian, his grin rattled her. “The games aren’t over yet.” He lunged for her.

Twisting around, she brought her sword up, catching him across the torso. Blood nearly as dark as the crystal dripped down the blade.

Briana didn’t wait for him to retaliate. He evaded the next swing of the blade, however, but not the next kick to his leg.

He roared, but her smaller form made it easier to dodge around the mounds of jutting crystal—until he managed to catch a handful of her braid.

Yanking her toward him, he gripped her arms, his claws sinking into her skin. She bit down to hold in the cry of pain.

With a roar, he threw her away from him. She struck the wall with enough force to break a couple ribs. Blood trickled into her eye from where her temple just grazed a section of the jagged crystal.

Sucking in a breath, she felt around on the ground for her sword. Where the fuck was it?

“You don’t need to make this hard on yourself.”

“Who says this is hard?” She dragged herself to her feet, the sticky dampness in her side telling her she was bleeding heavily. Preferring not to give him a place to strike, she didn’t hold her arm to the wound like she wanted.

Her sword lay less than a foot away. Kel would be on her before she reached it.

“You’re not like your brothers.” The acid-filled insult rolled off his tongue.

“I can tell that attention to detail is a talent of yours.”

If not for the iridescent glistening of jewel-toned scales along his jaw that betrayed the dragon pushing to the surface, she thought Kel might have laughed.

“You don’t have their training or skills, cat.”

She hadn’t stopped to think how well Cian and the others would have known Kellagh the Black, preferring to remember him only as Arthur’s betrayer. “Who would have thought the Gauntlet would put you and Lucan back on the same side.”

Kel opened his mouth to respond, but came at her instead.

She pivoted to grab the back of his shirt and slam him into a tower of crystal. Satisfied at the sight of the blood that ran down his face and neck, she retreated.

A backward kick to her knee cap took her to the ground.

Eyes all fire and brimstone, he advanced on her. “Give me the stone.”

“Do you always repeat yourself?” Back on her feet and limping a little, she skidded away from him.

He snagged her wrist, and she guessed his intentions a second before he snapped it.

Crying out, she jammed her other elbow in his throat, staggering away from him.

All Briana could see was blackness, the way out of the cavern obscured by the crystal. Damn it. She couldn’t stay here, wasn’t strong enough to take him on by herself, not bleeding with a broken wrist and busted ribs.

She felt her way around another tower, the pain a white-hot pulse that fired with every step. Listening for Kel, she wiped at the blood that continued to run into her eye. Her gaze locked on a tunnel, and she bolted for it.

Halfway there, Kel caught up with her, his arms like steel bands clamping around her chest.

Her broken ribs sliced into her, stealing her breath and cutting off her scream.

The dragon squeezed.

Can’t breathe.

How long until she lost consciousness and he took the stone from her? A wave of adrenaline flooded her. She would not lose it to Kel.

Next to the dragon’s head, a chunk of crystal dangled from the wall. Sharper than it looked, the crystal cut her palms, but she yanked hard, stabbing the broken shard into his thigh.

His arms fell away from her, and she landed at his feet, her lungs starved for oxygen. Kel plucked the crystal from his leg, and she knew he was two seconds away from breaking her neck. There wouldn’t be anything stopping him from taking the stone from her then.

Her arms trembled from the effort of holding herself up.

A blur of gray knocked Kel to the ground.

Vaughn?

In wolf form, he pinned Kel to the ground, his massive jaws snapping and just missing Kel’s throat.

The dragon kicked him off, but Vaughn regrouped, and she lost sight of them behind a column of the crystal.

Cradling her broken wrist, she crawled back to her feet. Kel’s yell echoed off the walls, followed by a whimper.

She picked up her sword, moving toward the other two immortals. A shadow separated from the icy walls, but she was too focused on moving forward, throwing her sword at Kel.

A second before the blade would have pierced his chest, the icy cavern vanished.

She spun around, finding herself alone in the same bedroom as when she’d first arrived. The competition was over.

It took another minute to process that, and she dug her hand in her pocket, finding the stone gone. Maeve and Aden already had it then. Two others may have also come away with a stone, but it was still a win for her.

Leaning against the wall, she let her battered body slide to the floor. She’d check on Vaughn in a minute. She tipped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

“How’s the wrist?”

Briana grinned. Her wrist, along with her ribs and other injuries had healed quickly when she’d gone to stone after the first competition. Rhiannon might have rethought her stone prison sentence if she’d realized it increased a gargoyle’s healing process. “Trying to pinpoint a weakness already?” She moved in a circle opposite Nessa.

Dark red mats covered the floor beneath them in the training room. Weapons she couldn’t identify, but reminded her of something she’d find in a medieval torture chamber lined the walls with the axes, swords and staffs, like the ones she and Nessa sparred with now.

The huntress pursued. “That implies I need to know one to smoke you in competition.” Nessa spun around, feigning a high blow and dropping at the last second to sweep low.

Briana stumbled, but managed to block the move. It had been her idea to spar. Her confrontation with Kel had proven she’d grown too lax with her own skills, her tech jobs taking up most of her time when she hadn’t been trying to find a way to free Cian from his stone prison.

She wasn’t sure that even if her skills had been up to par, she would have been able to take on Kel and come out the victor.

“But don’t worry.” Nessa went on the offense again. “If it came down to the two of us, the limbs I’d cut off would regenerate eventually.”

She didn’t doubt her friend meant every word, and spent the next hour proving to Nessa why it wouldn’t be a cake walk.

The back of her shirt stuck to her skin and her shoulder throbbed from an earlier dislocation, but she was otherwise holding her own, even though she’d gotten the impression Nessa wasn’t giving it her all.

Both the enchantress and the Fae had wandered in at some point, but Bran paid more attention to the weapons on the wall, or that’s what he wanted everyone to think.

“I don’t know how you pretend you don’t have a blood-thirsty shadow following you around.”

Waiting for the next competition wasn’t something any of the surrounding immortals were handling well. It didn’t help that outside the walls of their mansion it had poured for the last two days. Only Vaughn, who’d already healed from the three broken ribs Kel gave him, didn’t let the weather stop him from going outside. Briana half expected he did it just to annoy Elena, who kept complaining about the wet dog smell.

Lucan had stuck close, but she’d ignored his attempts to talk. There wasn’t anything left to say. After everything else, reliving the memory of them together and the way he’d sent her away without a backward glance, had stung far more the second time around.

That alone should have been enough to temper the flames that continued to burn much too hot whenever she caught him staring at her. Twice he’d rejected her; three times if she counted their twisted deja vu moment, and still the need to mark him as her mate continued to build.

Would she even reach the end of the competition before the cat started the dark slide into madness? She’d already curbed the instinct to claim her mate for months. How much longer could her feline half endure the distance wedged between her and Lucan? Days? Weeks?

A cool tease of sun-kissed ice caressed the back of her neck. A moment later Lucan materialized in the room as though he’d sensed someone talking about him.

“See.” The huntress laughed, and lowered her arms just long enough for Briana to strike.

Wood met wood as Nessa pivoted at the last second, her leg swinging around in a vicious roundhouse that nailed Briana in the chest.

Momentarily stunned, she tightened her hand around the staff and managed to regain her balance. And then Nessa was on her, the huntress’s staff jammed against the back of her neck where a strike with the right amount of force could take out Briana’s central nervous system, leaving her incapacitated.

Nessa stepped back, helping Briana up.

He’s dying was the first thought to go through Briana’s mind. Sickly pale and a faint hue of blue to his skin, Lucan leaned against the wall. He hadn’t looked well last night, but this was the first time she’d seen him today.

Nessa’s staff connected with hers. “If I was a bigger person and dancing on snow covered mountains in hell I might actually feel bad long enough to offer him a vein.”

Focusing on the fight and not the hunger that continued to gnaw at her, she brought her staff down, catching Nessa behind the back of her heel.

The huntress stumbled but bounced right back to her feet. “I’m not the only one thinking about it.”

From the corner of her eye, Briana watched the enchantress approach Lucan. “Does it hurt?”

Lucan didn’t even spare her a glance.

“When you drink from someone?”

“If I want it to.” His eyes darkened, the wraith rising close to the surface. Likely in attempt to discourage the conversation.

The enchantress didn’t seem to take the hint. “Maybe we could work out an arrangement. We both have needs that need to be met.”

Blood for sex?

Briana’s feline half raked its claws, snarling when the distraction landed her on her back. She hadn’t even made the conscious decision to shift forms before her skin tingled with the change, bones and muscle realigning.

She sprang at Nessa.

Taken by surprise, Nessa hit the mat, pinned in place by the massive paws. Worry flashed in her eyes. “B?”

She snarled, much too close to sinking her teeth into her friend’s neck. Horrified, she backed off, bolting for the door and pausing just long enough to snap hers jaws at the enchantress.

The other immortal jumped, but wisely didn’t retreat behind Lucan, as though she knew that was all it would take to set Briana off.

Lucan didn’t come looking for her until she’d returned to her room and shifted back to her human form. Damp from the fight and the cold sweat she’d broken into when she realized how close she’d come to attacking her friend, she jumped in the shower.

By the time she’d finished, her aggression had abated, but not the feverish rush of blood pumping through her.

She’d only just turned off the water when she heard Lucan enter her bedroom, but she took her time drying off. Taking a calming breath, she emerged from behind the decorative partition that served as another illusion for a modern bathroom, complete with a ceramic tile shower big enough for an entire sports team and a massive tub.

“Isn’t it feeding time?”

Lucan’s gaze never left her face, but she could swear she felt it caress every part of her not hidden by the towel. “Maybe that’s why I’m here.”

Her insides trembled, thinking about the alley and the trace of fear that had coursed through her when his teeth had brushed her neck. More troubling though was the hot, tease of excitement that simmered low in her belly.

She picked clean clothes from the wardrobe stocked with everything in her size. “Sorry. Not interested in being your blood buddy.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You know that’s not what I want.”

She honestly didn’t know what he wanted. He’d told her numerous times that she was better off keeping her distance, and yet he continued to keep a close eye on her. Because he still felt like he owed her brothers?

She folded her arms, waiting.

“I wanted to check on you, that’s all. You didn’t seem like yourself in the training room.”

Had he come to that conclusion before or after she nearly ripped out her friend’s throat? “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”

It was easier to believe that than have him stand there, his expression understanding, while guilt churned in her stomach. There wasn’t a single thing okay about what she’d almost done to Nessa and she couldn’t handle talking about it to him of all people.

“You looked like you did in the parking lot, with the redhead,” he added, as if she’d forgotten.

She kept her back to him. “And?”

He blew out a breath. “I should go.”

Although he looked and sounded as frustrated as she felt, she didn’t try to stop him. “Maybe you should take the enchantress up on her offer.” She made herself face him. “Unless you want to wait for the bloodlust to take over.”

“You wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

She cocked her head. “What happened to me being the easiest to hurt?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Right.” She didn’t wait for him to clarify, and he didn’t volunteer. She turned away, then changed her mind, needing to know one more thing. “Why did you keep it? The Blade of the Black Heart.”

She’d assumed he’d returned the sword to Constantine when she’d left it behind, not wanting any reminders of her and Lucan’s time together. She hadn’t seen the weapon since that night—until Lucan had held it to Vaughn’s throat in the courtyard.

“As a reminder.”

“A reminder of…” she prompted, when he didn’t elaborate, the cat’s aggression prickling her insides.

“What I’m capable of.” About to leave, his fingers curled around the open door. His eyes, though, remained watchful, his body coiled like he was about to stride across the room and pull her into his arms.

She just didn’t know what he planned to do when he had her there.

And then he was gone, the door sliding shut, leaving her with only the tears she refused to cry.

Alone in Pendragon’s, Tristan stared at the glass in his hand, both halves of him aching for his mate. Kennedy had talked him into letting her look into Briana’s disappearance alone, insisting she’d get further with her family without him glowering over her shoulder at her brother the whole time.

As if it was Tristan’s fault her brother was an ass.

“You’re understandably stressed, but rearranging Dolan’s face for him won’t help us find Briana,” she’d said, then with a kiss that was more to distract him than placate him, she’d vanished.

He hadn’t wanted to let her go any more than the first time she’d crossed the veil, after she’d bargained with a Fae to save his life. If he’d known how that was going to turn out… He slumped on the stool knowing he still would have done everything exactly the same.

Whatever it took to keep his mate safe.

Pouring another drink—his fourth if he’d been keeping track—he almost dropped the bottle at the fierce rub of the cat along the inside of his skin. He pivoted, and then Kennedy was in his arms. Legs looped around his waist, she nearly strangled him with her embrace, her mouth finding his.

He fell back against the bar, holding on to her just as tight. She was back in his arms where she belonged.

Now all he needed was his sister home and life could get back to normal.

“We’ll find her,” Kennedy murmured, her ability to know what he was thinking nearly as staggering as how deep their bond had grown in just a few short months.

“I shouldn’t have been so hard on her that night.” All the signs had been there days ago, and having gone through the same sensory overload of finding his mate, he should have recognized the signs in Briana, been more sympathetic. Instead he’d fixated on why she’d kept her mate a secret.

“You just want the best for her.” Kennedy ran her fingers across his cheek, and the cat fell into a lazy purr. “She knows that.”

“And maybe if I hadn’t been such a pushy son of a bitch, she would have told me her mate was Lucan.” A fucking wraith was bad enough, but did it have to be the same one that had nearly killed Kennedy?

“Hey.” His mate tapped him on the nose, the same as she did when she wanted the cat’s attention. “I know that look. Saw it just about every time you’d walk in here and see me working behind the bar.”

Tristan ducked his head.

“If it had been entirely Briana’s choice, she wouldn’t have chosen a wraith any more than you would have a human.”

A mate had been the last thing he needed when he’d been hunting the dagger that had been used to imprison Cian. Being put in a position to have to choose between saving his brother or the mate he hadn’t expected, had turned his world upside down.

Nothing had gone according to plan, not even the amazing woman in front of him and what nearly losing her had done to him.

Her lips moved against his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Reluctantly, he eased his grip on her. “Did Dolan known anything?”

Kennedy opened her mouth to answer at the same moment the window of Cale’s office above them shattered.

A body landed in the middle of the dance floor. Cale?

They both glanced up in time to see Sorcha vault over the edge of the window and land in a crouch close to Cale.

Kennedy darted Tristan a worried look. “Did she forget who she is again?”

Sorcha stalked toward her mate, who sat up, bloodied but otherwise fine. “No, but he seems to have forgotten who I am.”

“You gave up being a huntress,” Cale challenged, pushing to his feet.

“And nothing’s changed.”

Cale shot his brother an incredulous look as though Tristan had a clue what the fuck was going on, then glowered at Sorcha. “Do you think Rhiannon gave you back the ability to flash out of the goodness of her heart?”

Whoa. Sorcha could travel from place to place again just by thinking about it? That ability had been stripped from her when Rhiannon freed Sorcha from her huntress responsibilities a few months ago.

Sorcha shook her head. “It was necessary.”

“And wiping away your memory again? Will that also be necessary?”

Tristan winced. To make sure that the huntresses—gifted with god-like powers—didn’t try to rise up against Rhiannon, the goddess made sure their memories were cleansed every hundred years, ensuring their loyalty.

Sorcha’s fierce expression softened and she took a step toward Cale. He held his ground, which Tristan had to give him credit for. Times like this, the ex-huntress intimidated the hell out of Tristan.

“That’s why you turned into a Neanderthal? You’re worried I’ll be cleansed and forget you?”

Determination warred with desperation on Cale’s face, an emotion Tristan understood completely. “I won’t allow you to be taken from me again.”

Reaching up to cup Cale’s face, Sorcha shook her head. “That won’t ever happen.”

Cale’s hands covered hers, and he tugged her close. “Locking you up seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Kennedy and Tristan exchanged confused glances, and when Sorcha looked over at him, Tristan held up his hands. “That’s a little extreme, even for me.” Mostly extreme. He’d only thought about it for a second himself when Kennedy decided he was better off staying here while she crossed the veil into Avalon alone.

“Uh-huh.” Kennedy eased out of his arms, but he kept her close by threading his fingers through hers. “Briana’s not the only one missing.”

Sorcha nodded as though that confirmed what she’d heard as well. “Nessa is missing too. And possibly Emma’s twin.”

“Isn’t the sorceress always disappearing?” Tristan asked. While trouble seemed to follow Emma, Elena created it.

“She was supposed to visit her mother at the Fae court and didn’t show.”

Kennedy tipped her head up to meet Tristan’s gaze. “It can’t be a coincidence they all disappeared around the same time.”

Meaning he needed to stop assuming the wraith was responsible for Briana’s disappearance. It hadn’t helped Lucan’s case that no one had been able to track him down either. Not unusual according to Sorcha. Rhiannon was known for assigning them tasks that could take them to the most remote parts of Earth or Avalon for months, even years at a time.

“Did you hear anything about the Gauntlet?” he asked. Emma had told them about the symbol Briana had been drawing and what it might mean. The thought of his sister in a death match…

Kennedy squeezed his hand.

Sorcha sighed. “Rhiannon says that if it’s happening, we won’t know until it’s over.”

“And she can’t find out?” Cale asked.

“No one makes her do anything she doesn’t want, but we’re not the only ones talking about the Gauntlet. Or the next campaign.”

“That’s why she gave you your powers back,” Cale guessed, still not looking happy about it.

Anger rose up in Tristan. “So if Rhiannon won’t help, who else would know more about the Gauntlet?”

Sorcha winced. “There may be someone, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Chapter Ten

“Welcome to your next challenge,” Maeve’s voice rose like the sing-song call of the birds waking to the early morning in the forest behind them.

Briana shivered beneath the cool breeze, unsure whether the goose bumps crawling across her skin resulted from the weather or the location. In front of her loomed a dark, cave-like entrance to the catacombs, the monstrous opening poised to devour them.

She took an unintentional step back, drawn to the familiar scents of Avalon behind her.

Home.

The cat wanted to pad through the dewy grass and slink into the trees. The pull of it, a sharp longing to prowl the forest, dart over fallen limbs or take to the trees, tugged low in her abdomen.

She glanced over her shoulder, noticed the same considering look on Vaughn’s face. Kel’s as well. The dragon glanced her way, not bothering to hide his uneasiness in the shifting of his stance.

Every instinct warned Briana to be anywhere but here.

Intent on listening to the rules, she focused on the goddess, who hadn’t appeared since the start of the last competition. Although they’d remained absent, Briana had no doubt Maeve and her brother were fully aware of everything that transpired in the house. They’d probably taken notes, planning on using what they’d learned to further complicate subsequent challenges.

Lucan’s arm brushed hers, and the tension coiling within the cat eased a bit. She felt his eyes on her, but kept her attention fixed on Maeve and the mouth of the cave she imagined was about to slam shut, deeming them unworthy of entering.

“Who’s the old dude?” Vaughn murmured, nudging her other arm.

Curious, she watched a man close to a century old shuffle forward. Human and slave-born, she realized, noting Morgana’s brand on the man’s arm. Shockingly white hair fell into the man’s eyes, his skin dark and weathered. The swollen joints in his hands curled around a walking stick.

He moved with the awkward gait of someone who didn’t trust their cane to keep them up, but something about the movement felt…exaggerated.

“This is Graegor. He will be your guide into the catacombs.” Maeve waited for the man to join her, her eyes narrowing as he paused in front of the entrance and bowed his head for a moment.

Praying?

Once he stood next to Maeve, she continued, a slight pout in her tone. “You will stay with Graegor and not explore any of the other chambers or tunnels, unless you wish to be left behind. Inside, one of you will retrieve the Scroll of Nogard. When the scroll is read aloud where I’m standing, the competition ends and you will again be returned to the mansion.”

It couldn’t possibly be as simple as it sounded.

“This way.” Maeve motioned everyone to the entrance. She handed Graegor something that looked a lot like the gemstones from Tintagel castle. Briana stopped. Why would Maeve give the Eyes of Afanc to Graegor?

Oblivious to Briana’s scrutiny, the goddess disappeared and Graegor limped over to lead the way. Once he crossed the threshold of the entrance—one of hundreds to the catacombs—his spine seemed a little straighter, his step more confident.

He glanced back only occasionally, his gaze straying to the Fae each time. Curious, she kept Bran in her line of sight. Did the two men know each other?

Presented with more questions and few answers, Briana stuck as close to the pair as she could as the passageway ahead narrowed and branched off. They stayed to the middle path, winding around corners, the ceiling low enough they had to duck in places.

Lucan jostled her from behind, the heat of his body making the warm tunnel almost suffocating. She breathed through her mouth, determined to avoid inhaling the scent that continued to unravel her. She couldn’t block out the sound of his footfalls behind her though, or stop herself from picturing where his hands might land if he got too close.

It could have been worse. She could’ve had Kel behind her. Instead the dragon walked ahead of her with Nessa right on his heels. If the close quarters weren’t enough to deal with, Kel had a huntress breathing down his neck.

Briana might have grinned if she didn’t have to contend with the six-foot-two male invading her personal space with every other step.

The trail eventually opened up, the air weighed down by the scent of damp earth and rotting vegetation. The humidity in the chamber stretched over her skin, settling on her chest as she pulled in each sticky breath.

And yet the chamber was empty.

Intricate columns were scattered across the chamber, each one painted with elaborate vines and branches. Tilting her head back, she discovered a rainforest canopy drawn across the chamber’s stone ceiling. Limbs and leaves crisscrossed overhead, appearing glossy from a recent shower, though it couldn’t have rained in there.

Could it?

Beneath their feet, the realistically painted maze of roots and vegetation covered the floor, prompting more than one of them to step carefully. At the sound of scurrying feet, Briana glanced down. The leaves near her feet stirred as though a creature had dived between the one-dimensional foliage.

Something crunched beneath Lucan’s feet. He lifted his foot and searched the ground for the source, and their gazes met.

She couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or annoyed that he didn’t appear to have taken the enchantress up on her offer. He had to be starving by now. How could he think he stood a chance of fighting off Kel or Nessa if he was too weak from hunger?

You don’t care.

The reminder didn’t stop her from watching him from the corner of her eye as they moved around the chamber.

Graegor limped toward the wall where paintings of the trees separated, revealing an altar of sorts. His post? The human’s gaze continued to follow Bran.

Distracted by the trickle of an unseen stream, she paused. “Where’s the water?”

“There.” Elena pointed to the streaks of blue peeking through a wall of leaves. Though the sorceress didn’t warn the others, she kept a careful distance.

Both Briana and the sorceress knew that drinking water in the catacombs could lead to forgetting who you were. It had happened to Cian and Emma only weeks ago, and Emma’s Fae half had likely been the only reason she’d been resistant to the magic that would have kept the couple stranded in the catacombs indefinitely.

Skimming the walls of the rainforest, Briana frowned. How were they supposed to find a scroll here?

“Was that there a minute ago?” Nessa waved to a mural on the far wall, half hidden by the vines.

From her vantage point, Briana could just make out the figures locked in battle on a muddy battlefield. Another mural of a Campaign?

Closer than the others, Vaughn ventured toward it.

“Don’t,” Elena called out, half a second before the wolf’s fingers brushed the surface.

A gust of glacial wind snapped through the chamber that vanished around them, leaving them on a field that didn’t look so different from the painting.

Iron-gray clouds rolled across the sky toward them, the dampness promising a torrential downpour. All around them hundreds of bodies covered the ground, some dying, some already gone. Moans from those still clinging to life broke the screams of pain that echoed across the meadow.

Among the twisted and broken human bodies, lay horses. Beheaded wolf and cat gargoyles, many bigger than Briana’s own feline form, lay motionless and scattered across the field. The still smoking body of a fallen dragon rested a short distance away.

Briana’s throat cramped, the absolute carnage threatening to empty the contents of her stomach at her feet. Next to her, Lucan didn’t move, his face paler than before, if that was even possible.

Vaughn shuddered. “This can’t be real.” He pointed to the emblem of Morgana’s army on one of the dead men. “No one would be stupid enough to wage war on Morgana.”

“Not even the rebellion?”

He shook his head. “Not a chance. And they don’t have the support to pull off a battle of this scale.” Grim, he scanned the field, the wolf in his eyes.

“No.” Kel clenched his jaw. “This isn’t a new fight.” His gaze found Lucan’s. “It’s the battle of Camlann.”

“Impossible.” Bran shook his head, his expression stricken. “Another illusion.”

A dark blur shot past Briana’s face, and an arrow lodged in Bran’s arm.

Elena scoffed. “Still think so?”

A group of riders crested a grassy knoll, bearing down on them. It was right at that moment they all seemed to realize the weapons they’d carried with them had vanished along with the catacombs.

Stooping, Lucan grabbed a sword from the ground, and tossed it to Briana. “You always said you wanted to join the Guard.”

Lucan picked up an axe from one of the slain men nearby—one of Morgana’s—and made another sweep of their surroundings, noting the terrain that would be problematic for the approaching riders.

Encircled by war and death, the wraith remained conspicuously quiet. Had been ever since he’d left Briana in her room after their last conversation. Not even the hunger that stole through him, a subtle invasion of every cell in his body, roused the darkness.

An unexpected development that would have worried him if there had been time for it.

“This is where we’re supposed to find the scroll?” Elena asked. The glow of blue fire brightened in her palm.

The riders bearing down on them burst apart under the force of Elena’s magic, but most of them managed to remain in control of their horses.

“It’s a little early in the inning to have to pull the star pitcher.” Vaughn winked at the sorceress.

The group of men was larger than Lucan realized, close to fifty in the group. Another volley of arrows darkened the air. A burst of flame destroyed most of them before they hit the ground.

Lucan flinched, one of few arrows that got through slicing across his biceps. He sucked in a breath, the wraith finally stirring.

The ground vibrated as the men drew nearer, all of them Morgana’s. He knew without checking that Briana wasn’t as close to him as he wanted, but there was no time to maneuver closer.

The lead man raised his arm to throw a spear, and Lucan let his shape slip away to allow the weapon to pass through him.

Someone screamed directly behind him. The enchantress.

Eyes wide, the man pulled at the reins of his horse, and the animal reared up, giving Lucan an opening to strike. Arm raised, he froze. The scent of blood—sweetly metallic and pulsing with life—struck with sharper precision than the spear.

He spun around, felt the wraith roar to the surface. His gaze locked on the stream of blood trailing from the spear embedded in the enchantress’s side. His incisors lengthened, aching in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye he saw Briana herded toward three men. He took a step toward the enchantress. A little blood and he’d be in a better position to help Briana, to help himself stay in control…

Briana tripped, and one of men lunged off his horse, rolling to the ground to pin her beneath him.

Protect.

The wraith’s fury overrode the bloodlust, and he charged toward them. A wolf gargoyle, a mercenary fighting for Morgana shifted form mid-jump, landing between Lucan and Briana.

Not understanding what he faced, the wolf sprang forward and flew away from Lucan, knocked aside by a fist that would ruthlessly take down every obstacle between him and Briana.

He grabbed the closest of the group stalking Briana from behind, and sank his fangs into the side of the human’s neck. The blood curdled on Lucan’s tongue, sour and smelling like death.

Spitting it out, he shoved the man away. He wasn’t real. The Fae had been right. Another illusion.

The man holding Briana to the ground soared past his friends as she kicked him off. She dropped the third where he stood with a swing of her sword, grinning when the fourth scrambled away.

Pride filled Lucan’s chest, and the first real smile in days curved his lips when she glanced his way. He’d known she would be a sight to behold in battle, and when she plunged between two men, sliding to her knees in the mud to take them off their feet, he knew he’d been wrong to doubt her. Maybe she wasn’t a mercenary or a trained huntress, but she was just as capable, just as fierce as ever.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Lucan whirled, found himself face to face with Nessa. Both of them breathing hard, they stared at each other, weapons drawn.

“You’ve got a little something on your chin, wraith.” The huntress turned toward another small group of men close to those that Vaughn and Elena pursued.

Ten feet away, the Fae scanned the field, his gaze following something that moved away from them.

Kel.

The enchantress yelled, finally managing to pull the spear from her side.

Real, the wraith hissed, propelling Lucan toward her.

“No. This way.” Briana grabbed his hand, tugging him in the opposite direction. “We’re getting through this competition first and then you’ll feed.”

“Volunteering?” he snapped, the long-ignored compulsion for blood an ugly, ravenous beast fighting him from the inside out.

“Yes.” She kept walking, her gaze strategically sweeping the area.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t deserve to suffer.”

He stopped. “Maybe I do.” There wasn’t any maybe about it, in fact.

“Why?” Eyes a brilliant blue and glowing around the edges, she faced him. Blood stained her clothes, smeared her cheek. “Because you were forced to do things against your will? Rhiannon didn’t give you a choice when she created the wraith inside you.”

“No,” he growled. “There’s always a choice.”

She frowned. “You would have taken your own life?”

“To spare others, yes.”

Skepticism tightened the lines around her mouth. “Then why didn’t you?”

Tracking Kel’s progress, he let out a breath. “It wasn’t for lack of trying.”

“The wraith?”

It was always the wraith, had been for centuries. “It took over every time I tried until I gave up.” It had been hundreds of years ago, when the black-outs faded and he was faced with memories of what he’d done.

“Lucan,” she began, taking a step toward him.

“No. Don’t look at me like I was a victim. I’ve killed, Briana. Hundreds of times. Hundreds of deaths in a hundred different ways.”

She shook her head, and he knew she wasn’t getting it. Not really.

“I made them suffer. Killed them in front of loved ones or when they were on their knees, crying and begging for their lives. Once I stood for peace and honor, and now it’s misery and death.” He took a step toward her, hating that she retreated even though it had to be that way. “Still think I don’t deserve to suffer?”

“The wraith was in control,” she insisted.

“And that’s supposed to give me a free pass?” That wasn’t the way the world worked and he knew that better than anyone. “The wraith wasn’t always in control. It doesn’t care about being merciful and lessening someone’s suffering. Completing the objective any way possible is all that counts.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes, but instead of retreating further, she held her ground. “You made their deaths easier.”

“They shouldn’t have had to die at all,” he yelled, his anger fueled by a punishing hunger he was terrified would lead him to hurt her.

Never.

The monster’s confidence didn’t do a damn thing to improve the situation.

With the few of Morgana’s men left standing being dealt with by the Fae, Lucan scanned the area for Kel.

A flash of red insignia streaked across Lucan’s peripheral vision, and his stomach bottomed out. “Arthur?”

“Where?”

Heart punching through his chest, he pointed to where a man with the dragon shield separated from his men.

“He’s still alive?”

For now. Lucan glanced up, but the dark sky made it impossible to tell what time of day it was and how long the battle had been waging.

“It can’t be that simple?” Briana murmured.

He was already moving toward the man with the shield, the spiked tips of anxiety digging in. “What?”

Briana kept up with him. “Dragon. Nogard.”

He frowned.

“Nogard is dragon spelled backward.”

Son of a bitch. Tracking movement toward Arthur, he broke into a run. Kel was already too close to him. If the dragon wanted to be the one personally responsible for killing Arthur in this twisted playback of history, Lucan had no intention of indulging him.

Briana sprinted next to him, and they both saw the approaching band of men change course, heading toward Arthur. “I’ll be faster on four legs.” She threw her sword at Lucan and yanked at her clothes, preventing them from getting in the way during her shift.

He blinked at the explosion of magic and color, and the sleek grace of the huge black predator, tearing across the field.

More men burst over the knoll, pounding onto the battlefield. The sound of Nessa’s laughter carried on the breeze to his right.

Ahead of him, Briana pounced, knocking a man to the ground, her powerful paws incapacitating him. Another leap took a rider from his horse, giving Lucan fewer obstacles to deal with.

Between the gaps of fighting men that separated them, he glimpsed Arthur. Real or not, his friend moved with the same lethal precision that left every man who challenged him dead or dying. The three trying to surround him met with the same fate as the others, before Arthur faced another threat altogether.

Mordred.

Hundreds of years ago Lucan had lost track of Arthur in battle, though he’d sworn when they were barely past boyhood to always have his back. He hadn’t been there when Morgana’s son had somehow gained enough advantage to fatally wound Arthur. Constantine had been the one to find and drag Arthur from the fight, not realizing the extent of his injuries.

Everyone had been so convinced Arthur was invincible that no one had been prepared to deal with the agony he suffered for hours afterward, his screams heard for miles before they lost him.

Lucan searched the swarming bodies for Kel, but couldn’t spot the dragon. Pushing through the men, he used both the axe and Briana’s sword to fight his way to Arthur’s side.

Twice he saw Briana go down beneath Morgana’s men and both times she fought the bastards off, staying close to him.

Bleeding from injuries that didn’t matter, sweat running into his eyes, he hunted for Kel, cutting down every man or gargoyle foolish enough to fight for Morgana who got in his way. By the time he made a path through the last group of warring soldiers, he didn’t have the strength to slip into his phantom body, his body too weak from hunger and injuries slow to heal.

Calling out a warning to Arthur would distract him from his confrontation with Mordred, and Lucan refused to be the reason Arthur lost concentration. Although deadly in his own right, Mordred still wasn’t a match for Arthur. Too quickly Mordred’s movements grew sluggish and clumsy, and he retreated more than he advanced.

Kel stepped into Lucan’s path as Mordred went down, but not before he brought his sword up, slicing deep into Arthur before collapsing.

Kel bolted in front of Lucan, his sword raised.

“No!” There was no time to reach the traitor. No time to prevent the dragon from murdering the king he’d signed the death warrant for centuries ago.

Dodging the thrust of another spear, Lucan delivered a death blow to his latest attacker, stumbling forward as Kel buried his sword in…Mordred’s back. He hadn’t come there to kill Arthur?

Ignoring Kel, Lucan reached Arthur’s side just in time to catch his oldest friend as his legs buckled.

Grabbing his arm, Arthur hissed out a breath. “Always there when I need you, Lance.”

Lancelot. The nickname he hadn’t heard in centuries squeezed his throat. “I’m a little late this time.” The words tore at him.

Briana brushed up against him, and he took comfort in her presence.

Frowning, the lines around his eyes marked by pain, Arthur shook his head. “I’m not going to ask how you found yourself here, Lady Briana, but I appreciate the help.”

The cat nudged Lucan’s arm, the feline as confused as the woman no doubt.

“I can tell every one of my warriors in their animal form.” Arthur managed a pained grin, then held out a hand to Kel, who dropped to his knees next to them. “I thought you had abandoned us for a good tumble with that female from the last inn. Should have known you had a plan when you broke formation.”

Kel’s gaze found Lucan’s and the flash of guilt was strong enough to stop him from slaying the dragon on the spot. “I should never have left.”

Arthur coughed, his body racked with shivers. The fever had set in already. “You made it just in time to see me almost fall on my face. Like Lance, here.”

Briana set her paw on Lucan’s knee, and he nodded. “No one has called me that in a very long time.”

Arthur glanced at Kel, looking worried. “Did he take a blow to the head?” He turned back to Lucan. “I called you that only this morning.” He cocked his head, perceptive eyes finally noticing something was off with his men. “Help me up.”

Lucan and Kel exchanged looks. The dragon nodded, but when they tried to move him, Arthur cried out, stopping them.

Kel carefully peeled back the drenched material on Arthur’s chest. “It’s not healing.”

Forcing another grin, Arthur said, “You don’t sound surprised. Mordred’s blade must have been dipped in troll’s blood.”

Neither Lucan nor Kel commented, but the dragon rose to check Mordred’s weapon.

“Worse than that, then?” Arthur blew out a harsh breath, waiting until a wave of pain passed to speak. “Gwen always warned that my stubbornness would be the death of me.” His laugh was choked off by another cough.

Kel walked back toward them, his expression grim. In the distance more of Morgana’s men spotted them. They were running out of time.

Arthur pulled off his arm band, handing it to Lucan. “Give this to Gwen. She’ll take the news better from you.” He knew he was dying.

“No.”

His friend pressed the band into his hand. “Promise me you’ll give it to Gwen. She’ll never handle it coming from anyone else. She loves you, trusts you. You can’t let my death destroy her.”

Lucan’s throat felt like it was on fire. He shook his head, knowing he’d never have the chance to tell Gwen anything. “I can’t—”

“Vow it!” Grip much too strong for someone slipping away right before Lucan’s eyes, Arthur didn’t relax his grip.

Lucan nodded, sinking one hand into the fur on Briana’s back, needing something to hold on to.

“And tell her…” A spasm ripped through Arthur’s body that left him panting. “Tell her that I waited too long to fight for her. My only regret.” His eyes closed, and he forced them back open seconds later. “I’ll find a way to be with her again.”

If anyone could manage such a feat, it would be Arthur. For the first time in a millennia, Lucan wanted to believe that the rebel king would awaken and reclaim Camelot.

“We can’t stay here,” Kel warned, moving to intercept the first of Morgana’s men to reach them. Briana leaped away to take down one of the approaching wolves racing to attack them.

Lucan glanced down at his hand, expecting to see the arm band Arthur had commissioned to match Gwen’s for their wedding, but found a scroll instead. His fingers closed around it and he shoved it into his pocket.

“Lucan!”

Kel’s warning broke through Lucan’s grief, and he turned. Pain ripped through him, and he stared down at the spear that pierced his back and exited through his stomach.

Briana roared, tearing through three men, and then she was at his side, covered in blood and in her human form once more.

“Luc.”

The spear moved, twisting inside him. Dazed and weak, he glanced down to find a vine and not a spear lodged in him. As quickly as it had appeared, the battlefield was gone and they were back in the chamber.

A chamber alive with slithering vines bent on ensnaring everyone.

The painted forest writhed with life, the vines twisting and snaking around the columns, now tree trunks.

Nessa’s head fell forward, her body marked by battle and bleeding cuts from the thorns. On the other side of the chamber, Vaughn eluded the vines in his wolf form, scrambling under the foliage and snapping his jaw at the ropes of vegetation that pursued.

Elena kicked at the one trying to wrap around her ankle, some of the vines catching fire from her magic. The last burst of flame she threw struck the ceiling and rocks and earth rained down through the canopy of leaves.

“Are you trying to trap us or burn us alive?” Kel fought the vines holding him prisoner next to Lucan.

Lucan twisted as far as he could, searching for Briana. He picked out the Fae, who managed to elude the vines, as well and the enchantress. Like Nessa, she was unconscious.

He scanned the other end of the room, still not spotting Briana. Had she been left behind?

Another vine wrapped around his chest, the thorns piercing his flesh. Fuck.

The pressure on his right arm lessened, and through a blurry haze, he saw Briana cut through the vine. White spots twirled across his vision, blending the ceiling and ground together until he wasn’t sure which was which.

The vine that pierced his chest retreated, and he helped Briana pull the rest of them off him. Nearby, the Fae chanted under his breath, his voice agitated, as a vine swayed in front of him, a cobra poised to strike.

The last vine around Lucan’s waist gave way easier than the others, almost as if it had lost interest in holding him prisoner. More vines abandoned everyone else in favor of cornering the Fae.

The chamber shook violently as another of Elena’s fire blasts struck a wall.

“She’s going to kill us,” Kel snarled.

Briana slipped an arm around Lucan. Not until the warmth of her pressed against his side, taking some of his weight, did he notice his legs had been moments from dumping him to the ground.

Weak from hunger, blood loss and now the poison in the thorns, he struggled to raise his voice above a whisper. “You need to stop Elena.”

The words left his mouth at the same time another burst of fire struck the column closest to Kel.

And everything went dark.

Briana came awake coughing, her lungs working to expel the dust that coated her insides. Her head fell back against the ground, and she took a minute to piece together what the hell had happened.

Keeping her eyes open took tremendous effort. So did lifting her arm. Whatever didn’t ache from being battered and bruised from the battle and vines, trembled with exhaustion.

Her eyes slid shut. Maybe if she just rested another minute… The cat growled softly in her mind, then louder. No sleeping then.

“Luc?” Gritty and heavy, her eyes stung as she kept them open to search the dark.

Something heavy pinned her right side. She pushed at it with her free hand, and the warm weight gave a little.

Lucan?

It took long moments and several deep breaths to slide him off her body, and she lay panting afterward, cursing the toxins in the thorns. She didn’t want to know what else the gods had planned for them if each challenge was meant to be more difficult than the last.

A sound echoed behind her, and she stilled.

“Who’s there?” She squinted in the dark.

A spark flickered, some of the vegetation catching fire. Kel.

He leaned against the wall, something protruding from his thigh. The scent of his blood smelled faintly sour, as did Lucan’s. Another side effect from the thorns, she assumed.

Ignoring the dragon, she used the rays of light to examine Lucan’s wounds. Like wading through water, everything took more effort, and she sagged back down when she finished feeling the extent of the wound on his head—probably from the cave-in. The chunks of rock and debris separating them from the others might as well have been the size of oil tankers for all the strength she had to move them right now.

Sitting up once more, she shook Lucan’s arm, willing him to wake up. The dark had never bothered her before, but she’d never been in the dark and in the catacombs at the same time.

The edgy chill sinking into her bones left the cat anxious.

Kel grunted, and she glanced over her shoulder, watching him yank at whatever impaled his leg. He hissed out a breath, his big body shuddering. Even if she thought his dragon form could push through the barrier without collapsing the roof entirely and burying them alive, it was doubtful he could shift with his leg so badly damaged.

The firelight faded until only the coals glowed in the dark. She thought he meant to leave them in the dark, too exhausted to unleash enough of the dragon to breathe fire, but the room lit up again moments later.

Lucan’s eyes were still closed, his face free of the tension and pain when he’d been with Arthur.

Lucan was Lancelot.

How had no one ever told her that? Stories of Arthur’s best friend were legendary in both Avalon and the human world, even the ones about him trying to steal the heart of Guinevere.

And he and Lucan were one and the same.

The night of the festival centuries ago made more sense now, how close he’d seemed to Arthur and Constantine, their teasing reminding her of her own brothers instead of a leader with his soldiers. While she’d never heard of Lucan marrying, she’d heard the rumors of Lancelot’s betrothal to Guinevere.

“He’s the only one who can get us out of here, you know,” Kel drawled, either not bothering or unable to hide the pain in his voice.

“Except he’s unconscious,” she pointed out. Though the dragon had to know that already.

“So give him some of your blood.”

A tired laugh made it past her lips. “I’m sure you’d enjoy watching him drain me completely.”

He shrugged. “It would be slightly more entertaining than watching my wound heal.”

“The others—” she began.

“Will be busy looking for the scroll, assuming they’re not in the same position. We’re on our own.”

She nearly choked on her next breath. “We?”

Kel didn’t say anything, but unfortunately that didn’t make his suggestion any less than the best option.

Her gaze fell to Lucan’s mouth. She’d all but dared him to drink from her in the alley and agreed to it on the battlefield. And now she hesitated?

“He won’t kill you.” She couldn’t make up her mind if Kel sounded bored or disappointed by the possibility.

“Have a Magic 8 Ball over there?” Even taking the unpredictability of the wraith out of the equation, there was no way to know how the poison would affect Lucan’s bloodlust.

Something hit the rocks next to her, and she stared at the knife Kel threw.

“I can help if you’re too squeamish to cut yourself.”

Knowing she couldn’t risk losing too much blood when she was already so weak, she made a shallow slice across her palm and pressed it to Lucan’s mouth.

Chapter Eleven

Nothing happened.

Briana applied more pressure, frowning when Lucan’s lips didn’t so much as twitch.

Panic took root in her gut. “It’s not working—”

A hand clamped down on her wrist, holding her still. Her heart kicked against her ribs, and her eyes found Lucan’s. Open and entirely black, they held her in a death stare.

His brows drew together, then the wraith released her. His lids slid closed and when they opened long moments later—another eternity of waiting—they revealed the same forest green that had haunted her dreams for centuries.

“Hi.” Days of emotional upheaval slipped away, replaced by a bone-deep relief that the damage hadn’t been irreparable. She stroked her fingers through his hair.

Covered in her blood, his lips parted, but he didn’t say anything.

“You should have told me,” she whispered.

He thankfully didn’t ask her if she was talking about the Lancelot thing or Gwen or something else altogether. She wasn’t even sure what she was talking about herself, her mind overloaded with too much information in too short a time.

His expression tightened, and he swallowed, his eyes glassy. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Knowing he was talking about Arthur, she nodded. “He’s been gone a long time.”

He wet his lips, nodding, and she continued to run her fingers across his forehead. If reliving the loss of his best friend had been even half as hard on him as their earlier flashback, she knew how much he was hurting.

“I wish I had known him better.”

“He was…” Lucan trailed off hunting for the right word.

“Trouble,” Kel finished, his voice nearly as rough as Lucan’s. The dragon leaned his head back, his gaze pensive. “The very best kind.”

The words seemed to wear down some of the tension between the two men, the effect likely temporary given their history. She’d thought she understood Lucan’s hate for the dragon who had betrayed his king, but discovering how close he’d been to Arthur changed everything.

Given the wraith’s predisposition for violence, she suspected the dragon would have been dead by now if not for the gods’ rule against killing each other until the final round of the competition.

Lucan shifted next to her. “What happened?”

Kel answered for her, far chattier than he’d been so far. “That magic-abusing bitch triggered a cave-in.”

“Elena? I thought maybe the Fae did something.” He tried to sit up.

“You need more blood first.” She held his shoulders in place to keep him from rising. It should have been a challenge on a good day and altogether impossible as weak as she was now. The fact that Lucan didn’t even resist her meant he was worse off than she thought.

He touched his fingers to his lips. “Yours?” When she nodded, he shook his head. “But you’re not…stone. The venom in my fangs should have triggered the change.” He shook his head, disbelieving. “You have control of your shift?”

Her heart-rate spiked, the words she’d been holding onto for a while now, trapped somewhere between her lungs and her throat.

“Her mate isn’t here to kick your ass for drinking from her if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kel put in.

Like Briana, Lucan’s head turned in the dragon’s direction. His body, already cool, hardened like ice.

“Hey.” She palmed his freezing cheek, angling his face back toward her, not willing to lose him to the wraith. “You need more.”

“No.”

“Yes. I’m too weak to dig us out, but my blood will give you enough strength to pass through the wall.”

“And then what?” he challenged, and she knew he was just looking for an excuse not to drink from her.

“You’ll find a way to get me out.”

Kel grunted, but as far as she was concerned the dragon was on his own.

Lucan didn’t look convinced so she added, “You promised Tristan you’d keep me safe, right?”

His eyes narrowed, then widened, taking her in. “You’re naked.”

“Usually happens to all of us once or twice a day.”

“Put this on.” Gritting his teeth, he struggled to work his shirt over his head. “A little help,” he prompted when he only got it halfway off before collapsing against the ground, winded.

“Stubborn ass,” she muttered, skimming her fingers over his shoulders and along his arms until she had the shirt in her hands. She fingered the hole where the spear had pierced him. “Kind of pointless.”

Lucan gritted his teeth. “On. Now.”

Smiling at the commanding tone, she dragged it on. “The blood is already helping, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, his silence admitting enough.

“Here,” she looped her arms around him, helping him up and resting him against a nearby chunk of the column that could have crushed either of them when this part of the chamber had collapsed.

Arms burning from the strain, her eyes slid shut, and she allowed herself to lean into him. Just for a moment, she promised herself, and then she could pretend she didn’t want to stay right there.

His arm slid around her back. “You need your strength, kitten.”

The nickname had her grinning despite their situation, and she lifted her head. A lopsided smile she hadn’t seen in a long time lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Sometime this millennia would be good,” Kel growled.

Conscious of the dragon’s bored gaze, Briana straightened and held out her hand.

Lucan nodded to her neck. “It would be faster that way.”

“Okay.” By some miracle her voice didn’t betray the flutter of nerves in her belly as she slid closer. She bumped up against him, and he groaned. “Sorry.” Careful of his injuries, she started to move back.

His hand clamped down on her wrist. “Stay.” Eyes reflecting the faint flicker of Kel’s fire, he brushed her hair back from her face, exposing her throat. “You’re sure about this?”

Kel sighed. “Just to be clear, I’m not volunteering if she backs out.”

Neither of them paid him any attention.

“Will it hurt?” she whispered, though she was fairly certain she knew the answer. The redhead in the parking lot certainly hadn’t complained, and Briana had been ready to tear her apart for even that much.

His thumb slowly circled beneath her jaw. “Never.”

Lucan curled his fingers around her nape, gentle and coaxing and making her forget where they were and why she’d been nervous. Nothing about this was like that night in the forest. Not her, and certainly not the former knight fighting something so much darker than animal instinct.

And yet she trusted him. Completely. Maybe more now than back then.

His breath licked along her skin, triggering a shiver she couldn’t tamp down. Everything came to a standstill, neither of them moving, though every cell in her body felt him. There would be no undoing this, no going back.

Tipping forward a fraction brought her in full contact with his mouth. The grip on her nape tightened, but instead of panicking, all of the tension holding her stiff against him evaporated, and she melted into him.

What started out as a necessity had become absolutely essential, a gift she felt compelled to offer, to demand he accept.

And then he did.

The pressure of his lips, the lazy slide of his tongue, masked the piercing of his fangs as he bit down.

Breath held, all the anger, uncertainty and fear she’d been drowning in for days collided with a hot wall of devastating pleasure that crashed over her.

Sweet Avalon. More.

Briana slid her hands into his hair, tugging just hard enough to match each silken pull of his mouth at her neck. Not even in her wildest fantasies had she believed this would feel so right, his arms around her, his face tucked against her throat.

Liquid heat tunneled through her veins, leaving her trembling, her body caught on the edge of sheer want. In the back of her mind she kept waiting for the venom in his fangs to overrun her system and leave her bonelessly compliant.

That’s how it was supposed to work, wasn’t it? She wasn’t supposed to crave his hands on her, wasn’t supposed to imagine his mouth sliding so much lower. Her thighs contracted as though his tongue had parted the slick folds, and she squirmed in place, thinking long and hard about crawling into his lap.

“Lucan,” she hissed, torn between begging him to end this and demanding he never, ever stop.

All of it was too much. Too intimate. Too vulnerable. Too terrifying.

Because she was in love with him.

Shaken by the clarity of that realization, she pushed at his chest, her breaths coming in painful gasps. She wanted the blissful ignorance she’d been convinced would accompany the venom in his bite. She’d been counting on it to make her forget how desperately she needed to win the competition and free herself from a one-sided bond.

Lucan didn’t release her, taking another carnal draw from her neck. She cried out, plunged into a place where she couldn’t separate the pleasure from the pain threatening to consume her.

Maybe she’d still been in denial before, or maybe instead of driving him out, the Gauntlet had pushed Lucan even deeper into her heart. She wasn’t sure how she’d be able to sever their connection or how she’d ever survive it.

“Don’t cry,” Lucan mouthed against her wet cheeks.

Her shoulders shook uncontrollably, her body unable to take any more. The gods. The games. Lucan. She didn’t even care that he hauled her to him, caressing her back as the endless shudders ripped through her.

“Is that normal?” Kel asked.

“Shut up.” Lucan or the wraith—she wasn’t sure which of them answered and held her so carefully.

It didn’t matter. At the end of the day, they were two parts of the same whole. Like Briana was with the cat.

Exhausted from so much more than the tears that had finally escaped her stranglehold, she lifted her head, unable to meet Lucan’s gaze. “You should go.”

He cradled her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “I’m sorry if you felt that was betraying your mate. I never wanted—”

Unable to stand the thought of him regretting what had just happened, she shook her head cutting him off. “We need to get out of here.”

Nodding slowly, he grazed the marks on her neck. “I don’t know how long it will take to heal with the poison in your system.”

“I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t imagine telling a bigger lie.

His hand found hers, his fingers squeezing tight. He stood and the cold of the chamber rushed in to swallow her.

“If anything happens to her,” he warned Kel, the wraith as close to the surface as she’d heard without it taking over entirely. “I will end you.”

Half expecting an arrogant response to the threat, she stared in disbelief when Kel angled his head in a stiff nod.

With a quick glance in her direction, Lucan slipped into shadow and through the collapsed wall.

Kel lit another fire. “If you told him the truth it might destroy him.”

Briana didn’t move. “How long have you known?”

“Does it matter?”

It did if the others had also come to the same conclusion and planned to take advantage of it. “You don’t care about Lucan or Lancelot or whatever else you called him.”

“Ah, that little detail took you by surprise.”

That may have been putting it mildly, but the revelation had certainly made it a little easier to understand why he’d pushed her away the night of the festival. Had Gwen been the woman in his tent? “It doesn’t matter.”

Kel arched a brow. “He’s your mate.”

“Who shouldn’t know the truth, right?” Was she supposed to believe the dragon didn’t have his own reasons for wanting her to keep it a secret?

Kel stared at the fading firelight. “It’s far crueler knowing you can never be with the one you’re meant to, isn’t it?”

Cocking her head, she asked. “Who is she?”

The dragon feigned interest in his injury.

“Does she know she’s your mate?” Briana pressed.

He took his time answering. “No. And that’s the way it has to be.”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence—there would never be a comfortable one given that he’d been moments from snapping her neck at Tintagel.

“He never loved Gwen, you know. Lucan. Lancelot.” Kel closed his eyes. “Arthur was hammered when he came up with that nickname by the way. Or that’s how the story went.”

Shivering from the chill and blood loss, Briana gave up on trying to keep her eyes open. “Is that so?”

“You’d have to be wondering about their relationship by now.”

She thought about throwing Kel’s knife back at him. Hard. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Even if you can’t be with him, you should be able to take some small comfort in knowing his heart has never belonged to another.” There was bitterness in his voice, as though he didn’t have that luxury.

“How do you know,” she finally asked, “that Lucan didn’t love Gwen?” She could pretend she didn’t want to know, but she’d spent more than enough time avoiding the truth already. She wanted to know how much of the rumors surrounding Lancelot, Guinevere and Arthur were true.

“Lucan cared for her deeply, but like you do for your brothers.” The barest hint of respect echoed behind the words. “And although it dishonored both their families, he broke his betrothal to Gwen, freeing her to be with Arthur.”

“Arthur was already king. Wouldn’t her family have been in favor of that?”

Kel shrugged. “He was still considered the rebel king then. Half of Avalon loved and followed him, while the other half expected him to align with Morgana. Before Excalibur, Arthur wasn’t exactly known for doing the right thing.”

Tried and a little feverish from the thorns, she tried to get more comfortable. “You have an awful lot to say about the people you betrayed.”

As expected, Kel didn’t take the bait.

Greedy fingers of exhaustion plucked at her, but weak or not, she couldn’t let herself fall asleep. Kel hadn’t made a secret of wanting to see her torn apart, and she’d rather not make herself an easy target.

Rising on shaking legs, she made it high enough to sit on the chunk of stone nearby, then finally stood. The small flame near Kel’s feet cast dancing shadows on the wall.

“This wasn’t here before, was it?” She would have noticed the mural very different from the one Vaughn had foolishly touched.

Kel followed her gaze. “A lot of things weren’t here before.”

Too preoccupied with studying the mural, she didn’t read into Kel’s statement. Careful not to touch the hieroglyphics, she took in the image of the sun with human-like qualities and the nine people below it. Three groups of three. One woman and two men.

The gods?

Three symbols—Rhiannon’s, the Gauntlet’s and one she didn’t recognize—were lined up beneath each threesome. Below that were depictions of battles between the nine. The first Campaigns?

In the last one, a woman with Rhiannon’s mark fought a man bearing the symbol of the Gauntlet on his chest. She’d buried a sword in his chest.

Blinking to clear her foggy vision, she inched a little closer. “That looks like…Excalibur?” She turned toward Kel. “Could there have three swords, three Excaliburs?” She scanned the images, trying to figure out what she was missing.

Kel dragged himself to his feet but thankfully didn’t get too close to her. “No.” He pointed to the one in the man’s hand in the last image she kept returning to. “That isn’t Excalibur, but I’ve seen it before.” He met her gaze. “Mordred used it to kill Arthur.”

The collapsed wall behind them shook, and she would have brushed up against the mural if Kel didn’t steady her.

“It’s time to go.” Lucan took solid form in front of them. “I don’t know how long we’ll have before the whole chamber collapses.”

Something burst through the wall, opening a passageway, and Briana braced herself to fight off more vines. Instead the vegetation twisted up the walls, crisscrossing over the ceiling to hold the roof up.

“The Fae,” Lucan explained, reading the confusion on her face. He swept her up, into his arms and rushed into the newly formed tunnel. The ceiling and walls were still shaking when they emerged on the other side, Kel right on their heels.

“What happened to Graegor?”

Lucan nodded to where another section of the chamber had collapsed and the man’s legs peeked out from under the debris.

“And the others?”

“Gone,” the Fae answered, falling into step next to them.

She rested her head on Lucan’s shoulder. She struggled to keep her eyes open, barely catching Lucan thrusting something at the Fae.

The scroll?

“Lucan, don’t.” Her voice was gone, the words little more than a squeak that sucked the last of her strength. There was something she wanted to tell him, but the fuzzy details slipped away. Her head lolled forward and she seemed to drop in and out of consciousness until they reached the entrance to the catacombs. Through slitted lashes she watched Bran unravel the scroll, and then darkness snatched her away.

Lucan knew the second Briana lost consciousness, her arm slipping off his shoulder.

“Briana?”

He never should have taken her blood. He could have found another way instead of drinking from her, his thirst sated in a way he’d never felt before, and at a cost he wasn’t prepared to pay.

He smoothed her tangled hair back from her face, her body fragile looking in the ripped and stained shirt that didn’t even reach her knees.

Briana had a mate.

His mind continued to reel from that revelation. It explained why she’d wanted to keep her distance after the last of the enchantress’s spell had worn off.

The walls inside the entrance continued to rumble, but no longer threatened to cave in.

“What does it say?” Kel demanded, leaning against the outside wall. His limp and the pain creasing the dragon’s face in tight lines, kept him from lunging past Lucan to snatch the scroll from the Fae’s hand.

Refusing to trust Kel not to hurt Briana in the time it would take to reach the entrance, he’d sacrificed a win in favor of making a bargain. Lucan had promised the scroll to Bran if he freed Briana, half hoping the tunnel wouldn’t hold long enough for Kel to escape as well. The dragon needed more than a few minutes to face the consequences of what he’d done to Arthur—to all of them—when he’d deserted them.

He could almost hear Briana’s diplomatic voice in his head, insisting more than one man’s decisions had been responsible for what happened at Camlann. With her lying broken and so still in his arms, he didn’t care about anything but making things right between them—and getting her back to her mate.

Like he’d been stabbed by a dozen spears, he clenched his jaw at the thought of her with anyone else. He’d made his peace with it centuries ago—when he’d been promised to Gwen—or so he thought.

For the first time, the violent need to lash out was his own and not the wraith’s.

Bran frowned at the opened scroll. “It’s a map.” His eyes widened.

A burst of light exploded from the entrance to the catacombs, and Lucan turned, shielding Briana. When he lifted his head, they stood in the courtyard. The scroll had disappeared from the Fae’s hand.

Briana moaned in his arms, finally stirring, though she didn’t open her eyes.

“What did you do to her?” Covered in dirt and blood, Vaughn stalked toward them.

The wraith snarled, something reflecting in his eyes that gave the wolf pause.

“She’s down a few pints of O-Neg. Get over it.” Kel limped away.

Elena crouched on the ground next to Nessa. She glanced at Vaughn. “Give me a hand with her.”

He pointed to the jagged tear along his shoulder blade. “Your huntress friend tried to decapitate me. You’re on your own, sweetheart.”

If looks could decapitate, Elena’s would have ripped Vaughn’s head from his shoulders. The Fae helped her with Nessa, the huntress’s eyes opening before Lucan carried Briana past them and inside.

Upstairs, he laid her on the bed then set about cleaning her up. Once that was finished and he made sure her wounds were closing on their own, he wrapped her in a robe and tucked her in bed.

Leaving her wasn’t an option. Listening for her, he cleaned himself up, wrapped himself in a towel and stretched out on the bed next to her, watching her sleep. Every once in a while her brow creased, and he would run his fingers along her cheek, unable to resist.

She wouldn’t like that, and neither would the mate who’d somehow earned the right—through fate, biological compatibility, attraction, whatever—to call Briana his.

But it wasn’t her mate who watched over her now, determined to protect her, even if it was for someone else.

He rolled on to his back, staring at the ceiling. How was it that centuries of accepting the life Rhiannon had cursed him with could be so easily undone by the woman next to him?

Although Briana’s blood had given him the strength to take his phantom shape and speed up the sluggish healing of his wounds, Lucan knew he needed rest as much as she did. The next challenge could be days away or only hours and they both needed to be ready for it.

Edging as close as he could without disturbing her, he closed his eyes and welcomed sleep.

He dreamed of Briana.

Laughing and running through the grass ahead of him, she coaxed him to follow, always staying one step ahead of him. Every time he thought she was within reach, she danced away, slipping through his fingers over and over.

Until she didn’t.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember if he’d caught her or she’d caught him. She was there now, in his arms, her body soft and warm and fitting against him in all the right places.

All the hard-for-her places that cranked his temperature from warm to blistering, and every inch was burning for her.

He dragged her to the ground, pulling her down on top of him. Her hands slid into his hair, her mouth taking his. Teasing and light, the kiss scrambled his thoughts, offering him only a hint of the wild heat set to consume him.

He ran his hands up her hips, his hand spanning her lower back, drawing her closer still. Her soft whimper raced across his lips, and he turned to the slender column of her throat, nipping gently.

“More,” she breathed, and he licked across the pulse point thumping beneath his tongue.

Pressure built in his chest, increasingly uncomfortable, but he ignored it, rolling her beneath him. Pain hissed through him, and forced his eyes open.

Briana lay beneath him on the bed they’d fallen asleep in, watching him. The heat he’d imagined, that he swore continued to fire in every cell in his body, rolled off Briana, her skin feverish.

She was still fighting the poison from the thorns, or the venom from his bite.

Her nails raked the back of his neck. “Don’t. Don’t let me go.” She shook her head. “I need you. I’ve always needed you.” She cupped his cheek, her thumb sweeping softly.

The words slipped past every guard in place to keep her from getting a tighter hold on his heart.

He shook his head. “This isn’t you.” One look at her eyes, unfocused and sleepy, and he knew it was the fever talking.

“This is me. And you. It’s always been us.”

She coaxed him back, and he let it happen. Let his eyes slide shut, lowered his forehead to hers, breathing deep and letting her fill his senses.

“You see me. You don’t always say it, but I can read it in your eyes. My brothers love me, my friends support me, my clients respect me, but you…you see me. All the little pieces that make up the whole. You.” She opened her mouth over his. “I’ve been waiting so long,” she whispered across his lips, “for you. For my mate.”

His body went cold, the wraith so quiet Lucan felt alone in his own skin for the first time in decades. “Briana?”

“Mmmm,” sleepy and sexy, she opened her eyes.

“Who am I?”

“Mine.” The most incredible smile curved her lips, and it hurt more than he could stand because she thought he was someone else. The one she was truly meant to be with.

And he wanted it to be him. Wanted to believe he had a chance, the same way he’d believed, for just a moment, that maybe there really was a way to bring Arthur back. If he could win the games, he could save his friend and earn his freedom at the same time.

He hadn’t wanted to think about being free of Rhiannon, but at every turn he was constantly reminded how incredible it could be between him and Briana. After she’d put her faith in him, trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her in the catacombs, he could imagine fighting everyone, even Rhiannon herself, for a chance to be with Briana.

And she’d already chosen another.

The wraith snarled in frustrated denial, leaving the man and monster in perfect agreement.

He knew he should be happy for her. She deserved someone who could protect her, laugh with her, love her. And that would never be him. That didn’t stop him from wanting to be the same selfish bastard he’d been centuries ago, wanting one more night as though it wouldn’t matter.

But it would.

Rolling away from her before he could talk himself into pretending he hadn’t heard her, that she wasn’t burning up with a fever he’d caused, he sat up. He hadn’t fed from a gargoyle long enough to know how their bodies handled the venom beyond going to stone.

“Stop.”

“You can’t leave.” She grabbed his wrist.

“You need to rest.”

“Not without you.” The raw emotion in her voice stopped him from standing.

“Briana,” he began, too tired to fall back on old arguments to convince either of them why he needed to leave.

“I’ll sleep if you stay.” She tugged, and as stupid as it was, he let himself lay back down next to her.

Her eyes were already closing, her breathing evening out after she curled into him. He’d stay just another minute, make sure she was sound asleep and then he’d finish this competition, one way or another.

Briana stretched and turned into the warmth next to her. The cat pressed against her mind, purring softly. Content.

She opened her eyes, stretching again, unable to remember the last time she’d slept so well. Noticing Lucan sleeping next to her, she then recognized the room, but couldn’t remember how they’d gotten back. They’d been in the catacombs, then on the battlefield, and then…

The lines between Lucan’s eyes creased, but he didn’t stir.

He’d fed from her.

The memory of it drenched her mind in images and emotions that swirled beneath her skin, warming her from the inside out. She’d never felt anything like it, the pleasure bone-deep, marking her heart.

She was in love with him—and he still didn’t know.

Careful not to disturb him, she slipped from the bed and dressed quietly. She needed space, room to think, to breathe without feeling like the pain in her chest would crack her wide open.

Downstairs, she passed the Fae sitting near the door, his head bowed. Meditating again?

Starving, she fed her rumbling stomach, her hunger seemingly endless. Because she’d offered her blood to Lucan? Once she’d stuffed herself with cheese, meat and fruit, she walked outside.

She had no idea how long she’d been out of it, which she liked even less than knowing it was the second time the games had put her out of commission to heal.

Through the trees she spotted Nessa and the enchantress. She mentally tightened her hold on the cat, anticipating a reaction toward Seva like the last time in the training room.

Her feline half didn’t so much as raise a hackle at the enchantress doing yoga next to the pool. Her earlier possessiveness of Lucan seemed to have abated. Another side effect of what happened in the catacombs?

“I still don’t get how you guys can make people want each other,” Nessa said from the edge of the pool where she sat with her legs in the water.

Seva moved into another pose. “We can’t.”

Nessa noticed Briana walking toward them, but kept her conversation with the enchantress going. “Sorry, but I’ve got the wolf bites to prove it.”

The enchantress arched a brow. “Our magic can only heighten an attraction that already exists. The deeper the connection, the more effective the magic.”

Nessa scoffed. “So you’re telling me that even though one of your skanky sisters hit Pendragon’s with the stuff, the only people that really got it on…” she trailed off, gesturing for the enchantress to fill in the blanks.

“Already had a connection in place.”

“Not a fucking chance.” Nessa stood, snatching up a towel behind her.

Something—a spark of hope—kept Briana from denying the possibility as quickly as Nessa.

The enchantress straightened. “Rhiannon herself tried to make a deal with me once to make a human fall in love with her. If my sisters or I can’t even accommodate a goddess willing to pay the highest price, do you think we’d waste time doing it for free at a third-rate immortal bar?”

Ignoring the dig at Pendragon’s, Briana kept a fierce hold on the excitement building in her stomach and pressed for more information. “So you’re saying that the magic that was used can’t make someone want you who didn’t already.”

“Exactly.”

Either the enchantress was lying to her, or Lucan had.

But why?

He’d been so quick to point out that he hadn’t wanted her enough all those years ago either. But he hadn’t been free then, not while being pledged to Gwen. And since then he’d repeatedly mentioned being bound to serve Rhiannon.

Was that why he’d lied? Because he wasn’t free to be with her? She turned away from the others, scared to consider the possibility. How many times could she let herself believe that things were different only to have reality slap her in the face?

“Briana?” Nessa called out.

“I’ll be back in a while.” She hurried back inside, climbing the steps two at a time only to freeze outside her bedroom door. What if she was wrong? What if the enchantress was just trying to rile them up?

The cat prowled beneath her skin, forcing her to face the possibility that she’d stayed in the competition to free the wrong person. If Lucan really wanted to be with her, and if he won…he could be free of Rhiannon.

Don’t go there.

Every protective instinct cried out for her to go back downstairs, but she didn’t move. What if she’d been so determined to stay to save herself from the madness of the Forgotten she’d let Lucan convince her of a lie?

Lucan was still asleep when she closed the door behind her. Halfway to the bed, she hesitated. If she was wrong and he told her all over again how much he didn’t want to be with her…

Believe.

Torn between her mind and her heart, she paused next to the bed already knowing which part of her would win.

“Lucan.” Her voice refused to rise beyond a whisper. She brushed the hair away from his forehead.

He grabbed her by the throat, his fingers clamping down until she couldn’t breathe.

She clawed at the hand holding her, kicking out as he opened his eyes. Lucan’s forest green eyes stared back at her.

No.

Twisting hard, she fought to break the hold. He rose from the bed, and she felt her feet leave the ground as he held her away from him. She shook her head. Lucan wouldn’t hurt her, couldn’t hurt her.

Her lips moved soundlessly, and she thrashed, needing to get free, to breathe.

Black pooled into Lucan’s eyes and his hand fell away from her, and she hit the ground.

Her teeth snapped together from the impact, air rushing into her lungs so hard she coughed uncontrollably, her claws scraping the floor.

Movement from the corner of her eye sent her scrambling backward. She slammed into the wardrobe, her eyes never leaving the wraith as he crouched in front of her. He reached a hand out, and she turned her head, flinching at the gentle touch.

“Neither of us was in control.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, the roar of both the cat and her heart thundering in her ears. Her eyes slid shut. Nothing made any sense. Lucan wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that, but he’d been the one to grab her, not the wraith. Yet it was the wraith watching her now, insisting someone or something else had been responsible?

What the hell was going on?

“I want to talk to Lucan.” A raspy sound that she knew had to be her voice made it past her lips.

“Impossible.”

Clinging to the edge of the wardrobe, she forced her shaking legs to hold her. “You won’t let him have control.”

The wraith shook his head, something that might have passed for sympathy crossing his granite expression before he turned away.

“Why not?”

The lower half of his body was already slipping into its phantom form. “Right now, he would kill everyone in here if I did.”

More confused than ever, she took a step after him, needing to understand what just happened. “Why would you care?”

“I wouldn’t.” He offered a grim smile. “But you would.” Without another word he vanished through the door.

Chapter Twelve

“Pan’s shadow is still stalking you, I see?”

Briana didn’t look over her shoulder to check that the wraith was there. He was always there. For two days he’d shadowed every move she made in the house, refusing to give Lucan control.

The phantom presence had everyone on edge, Briana included. She wasn’t any closer to figuring out what had triggered the attack, and if the wraith had figured anything out, he wasn’t sharing.

Kel had been the only one to see the bruises on her neck before they’d healed, but he hadn’t commented. He was careful, though, to give the wraith a wide berth.

Nessa had been the first to assume Lucan’s thirst for blood had triggered the loss of control, and Briana hadn’t bothered to correct her. Either someone in the house had found something that could manipulate Lucan into hurting her, or the gods had orchestrated the whole thing.

There was also the slim possibility that Rhiannon had been trying to reestablish her control over Lucan.

Until she knew one way or another, Briana planned on watching her back in case it had been an indirect attempt to remove her from the competition. She was hardly the biggest threat in the games, but there seemed to be layers to the Gauntlet that had yet to be revealed.

“How do you stand it?” Nessa continued, dropping next to her. They sat outside in the shade of one of trees without getting too close to the temperamental vines that twisted around the limbs, a constant reminder of what happened in the catacombs.

Briana shrugged. “He’s not that bad.” She resisted the urge to check how close he was or if his eyes had returned to normal. She wasn’t sure if the wraith preferred his phantom form to intimidate everyone or to prevent her from seeing too much.

Elena floated on her back in the pool. “I know I’ll be keeping my distance next round.”

“B’s not into letting others do her fighting for her,” Nessa put in.

The icy kiss of the phantom’s presence licked over her skin, and she knew as well as he did that Nessa wasn’t assuming as much as she was asking. The wraith’s presence was getting to the huntress, too, then.

The only one who seemed unconcerned with the wraith was Vaughn. He dozed in one of the lounge chairs by the pool, his body twitching now and then.

“Think he’s dreaming about chasing a rabbit?” Elena quipped.

“Or you,” Nessa laughed.

Elena rolled her eyes. “I’d sooner be duct-taped to a lawn chair and forced to watch a Duck Dynasty marathon.” She shuddered as though both scenarios were equally disturbing.

Aware of the wraith trailing in her wake, Briana walked over to Vaughn. Remembering all too clearly what happened with Lucan, she kept out of arms reach, nudging his leg with her knee. “Vaughn.”

He bolted upright in the chair. “No! Don’t kill her!” He gripped the arms of the chair, a sheen of sweat covering his face.

“Hey.”

His head snapped around, and he blinked a few times before running a hand down his face. “B?”

Elena snickered. “Somebody’s been eating too many Scooby Snacks before bed.”

Briana ignored the sorceress. “Bad dream?”

“I guess.” As if he sensed that she’d listen if he wanted to talk about it, he shook his head. “Whatever I was dreaming, it’s gone now.” He didn’t quite meet her eyes.

In the pool, Elena cocked her head but made no further cracks. She came out of the pool, tossing Vaughn a towel before using the one on her chair to dry off.

Vaughn’s jaw tightened, but Briana couldn’t tell if the response was related to the sorceress or the nightmare. Throwing the towel back, he walked toward the far courtyard.

Unsure whether to try talking to him or giving him some space, she went with the latter. He knew where to find her if he felt like talking about it.

“He’s strung tighter than one of Pavlov’s dogs waiting for the dinner bell to ring.” Elena’s comment lacked her earlier teasing as she watched Vaughn walk away until he disappeared from view. “Can’t you just pace like most people?” she snapped at the wraith. “All that creepy gliding is making me twitchy.” She plopped down on one of the chairs.

If the sorceress noticed the wraith circled her more closely, she didn’t waste a breath pointing it out. Nessa grinned though.

On her way across the courtyard, Briana noticed the Fae walking in her direction. The wraith was almost on top of her by the time she stopped in front of Bran. She hadn’t been able to get him alone since the catacombs. Although some of the details remained foggy after the cave-in, she did remember one thing she’d been meaning to ask him about.

“How did you do it? How did you control the vines?” Controlled them to a point anyway. She wasn’t sure they hadn’t turned on him right before Elena had brought the roof down on their heads.

“When a magician reveals their tricks it ruins the magic.” He walked around her, or more specifically, around the wraith. “I’d be careful with that one during the next competition.”

She watched the Fae leave, felt the wraith’s gaze linger a beat longer than her own. “You don’t trust him.”

“I trust no one.”

“And me?”

The wraith said nothing.

“You can’t protect him forever,” she said when the darkness in control of Lucan turned from her.

Inky shadows solidified into Lucan’s form. Three clipped strides brought him within an inch of her, and she tipped her head back to meet the soulless eyes that weren’t as unfeeling as the wraith would have everyone believe.

“How long are we going to do this?”

No response.

“I want to talk to Lucan. Please.” She didn’t want to beg, wasn’t even convinced it would sway the bloodthirsty mercenary in front of her, but she couldn’t keep waiting for the wraith to relinquish control whenever he felt like it.

“Why did he lie to me? I know it wasn’t the enchantress’s magic. His feelings for me are real. They’ve always been real.” Saying it out loud, embracing the possibility as truth, finally loosened the chokehold on her heart.

The wraith turned away from her.

“You can’t play dominant personality forever. He’s stronger than you.”

“His humanity makes him weak.”

“No, it’s gives him the strength to make harder choices. Ones even you can’t make.” Like trying to end his existence to prevent others from dying, or worse, staying in control so there was no needless suffering.

Baring sharp teeth, the wraith snarled at her. Then vanished from sight.

For the first time in two days she was alone, but as much as she’d provoked him, she knew the wraith wouldn’t stay away for long.

Neither the wraith nor Lucan had reappeared a few hours later when the gong sounded, signaling the start of the next competition. She found a map in her room, next to a full length mirror. The glass shimmered, awaiting her to cross the veil. At the bottom of the crude map, she noted the combination of random letters that made up four words she couldn’t decrypt.

A cipher? She flipped the paper over, hunting for a clue as to which letter was the key to decoding the words. Finding nothing, she studied the map again. She didn’t recognize any of the landmarks.

Setting it aside for now, she strapped a dagger to her calf and grabbed the sword she’d taken from the weapon’s room. There was a good chance neither weapon would crossover with her, snatched away on a god’s whim, but she’d rather take her chances.

Readying herself, she grabbed the map, her gaze falling on the fuzzy reflection of it in the mirror. She frowned, tracking the landmarks on the reverse image.

“Caerleon Canyon?” The mountainous region east of the barren lands was sparsely populated, the terrain too troublesome for most to reside in that part of Avalon. Before Camlann, a few dragon clans had favored the area, but even they’d moved on as far as Briana knew.

She checked the map three more times before feeling confident she was headed to a destination in that region. Having tracked a missing gargoyle through the area centuries ago, she easily held an image in her mind as she stepped into the mirror and through the veil.

Like walking through cobwebs, the Fae magic washed over her as she emerged on the other side.

A brisk wind snapped across her cheeks, tugging at the hair she’d pulled back in a ponytail. Towering trees lined the trail leading down the gorge that served as the first landmark on the map. Beyond that, a steel-gray sky, thick with clouds, promised snow.

The cat’s tail snapped playfully at the thought of pouncing through piles of white fluff. Another time maybe. She planned on reaching the valley at the base of the gorge long before the first flakes fell. A forest then stood between her and whatever waited at the oval marked in the middle of the map.

Three steps. Maybe. That was as far as she got before she felt the wraith behind her.

He paused beside her, his black gaze tracking something on the horizon. “Do you know the way?”

It would be pointless to argue about him following her. Until her earlier comment about him protecting Lucan, she hadn’t succeeded in convincing him to leave her alone. Under other circumstances she might have felt better about someone watching her back, but if someone or something had gained control of Lucan and the wraith once before then it could happen again.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that only days before the Gauntlet there had been other reports of immortals losing control of their bodies. There was a good chance that Maeve and Aren had been responsible, another form of testing to rule out possible competitors.

Or, the guilty party had been selected to participate in the games.

Without answering the wraith, she began the downhill trek. Though they moved closer to the valley and the trees grew denser, the chill in the air deepened. She shivered under the cold breeze but didn’t let it slow her down. There was no way of knowing who else had figured out the map and might be ahead of them.

“I don’t protect him.”

Briana nearly tripped at the unexpected sound of the wraith’s voice, his words rough, unpracticed. Afraid that if she stopped to talk, he’d change his mind, she kept walking. “Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

“No.”

She picked her way down a particularly steep section of the trail, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m protecting you.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me.” Although she’d been shaken by what happened, she knew the wraith was telling the truth about someone else pulling the strings when Lucan had attacked her.

“He doesn’t believe that.”

That didn’t make him right, and she said as much, adding, “And what are you protecting me from exactly?” She didn’t point out the irony of a creature known for death and destruction playing bodyguard.

The question fell on deaf ears, fraying the already taut threads holding her together. More confused than ever, she pulled the map out of her pocket to distract herself, matching up her current surroundings.

The code at the bottom continued to stump her. No matter how long she studied the scrambled letters, she couldn’t spot a pattern.

The ground shifted under her feet, and she stumbled sideways.

Her hand shot out to grab the nearest tree, the thin branches snapping like dead twigs in her grip. Nothing but air slipped through her fingers, and the world emptied around her.

Her claws snagged a tree stump, stopping her from teetering on the edge of a sheer rock face that fell away from the trail. A thin wall of trees had masked the drop-off that would have shattered every bone in her body.

Pulse firing at the overdose of adrenaline in her system, she sucked in a sharp breath, the air freezing in her lungs. The cat snarled in warning before a heavy arm dragged her away from the edge.

The wraith tipped her chin up, his eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

Lucan was in there somewhere, trapped by a bond that Rhiannon had condemned him to centuries ago. Powerless, isolated, punished, demoralized—over and over and over again.

And for what?

Because Arthur had fallen in battle after giving his life to a cause that he not only believed in, but inspired others to believe in? Lucan had done nothing wrong. He’d supported Arthur, broken his betrothal and ignored his family’s wishes so Gwen and Arthur could be together, had ridden in battle with Arthur, trained with him, laughed with him. There wasn’t a doubt in Briana’s mind that Lucan would have changed places with Arthur that day on the fields of Camlann.

How could that kind of friendship and loyalty count for nothing? He deserved so much more than what Rhiannon had done to him. He deserved a chance at a real future, free and happy. It no longer mattered if that future was with her or not.

How would she ever be able to live with herself if she won and used the sword’s magic to undo the mate bond? Maybe Rhiannon could so heartlessly punish Lucan, but Briana would never forgive herself if she didn’t do everything to free him. She couldn’t stand the thought of him spending another year or week, or even another day living a nightmare.

She loved him too much.

Holding the wraith’s gaze, Briana lifted her hand to his face. “You can be saved.”

With eyes so black and cold they could have frozen over an entire village, the wraith grabbed her hand. She waited for the crushing grip that would push her away.

Instead, gentle fingers closed over hers. “You will not sacrifice yourself.”

So the wraith knew she risked becoming one of the Forgotten if she used Excalibur to free Lucan and they still couldn’t be together.

“You’ve suffered enough.” She wasn’t sure she was just talking about Lucan anymore. The wraith had been created to destroy, to ensure Lucan followed orders whether he wanted to or not, but there was nothing destructive about the way the wraith held her hand now.

“You will not risk your life for us.”

She could have smiled at the commanding tone that both sides of Lucan had mastered. “You can’t stop me.” The wraith took a step back and walked away from her.

She rushed to keep up with him. “Wait, damn it.”

The bastard didn’t so much as reconsider a single step he took. Growling, she snatched the dagger from the sheath strapped to her calf and fired it at him.

A moment before the blade would have lodged between his shoulder blades, he turned phantom and it wedged harmlessly into the ground in front of him. She cursed under her breath.

A menacing slash of teeth followed her act of desperation, and then he threw the dagger back, the blade embedding in the tree only inches from her head.

Frustration gnawed through the last of her patience, and when she caught up with him, she shoved him from behind. “He needs to know that I love him.” Lucan was hers more than he would ever be the wraith’s or Rhiannon’s or anyone else bent on making a claim on him.

It seemed so stupid that she’d once believed that turning away from him would save her from heartbreak. She knew now that the only way to really save herself—to save them both—meant loving him more fiercely than ever.

She shoved the wraith again, needing to take action, to fight for what she wanted until there wasn’t any fight left in her.

Pivoting and grabbing her arms, the wraith shook her. “Are you done?”

“No.” She drove her palms into his chest, vaguely satisfied when he stumbled back a step. “I’m not done.” Her back slammed into a tree, her body pinned by the wraith’s.

“Stop.”

“He needs to know the truth.” She didn’t know how much longer she could be the only one fighting for them. Briana jammed her arms up and out, breaking free long enough to smash a fist into his jaw. “He needs to know that he’s my mate.”

Pain flared along Lucan’s jaw and he staggered back as much from the blow as the words that thundered in his head.

Briana took another swing at him, and he barely got out of the way, struggling to separate the foggy details of awareness from an earlier dream.

“What did you say?”

“That he needs to know he’s my mate,” she snapped like she was talking to someone else.

He blocked the next fist she threw at him, jerking her around, trapping her arm against her stomach as he yanked her back to his chest. Her breaths came fast and hard, but she relaxed against him—and then slammed her head back into his.

Sweet Avalon. Nausea swirled in his gut, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the white spots exploding across his vision, or Briana’s revelation.

Not that she left him time to process either. A sharp kick caught him in the thigh, and he grabbed her ankle, hauling her toward him. She raked her claws across his chest.

He hissed out a breath. “Easy, kitten.”

She hesitated. “Luc?” She didn’t wait for him to acknowledge her. She threw herself at him—hard—and they hit the ground. She half straddled him, her palms trapping his face in her hands. “You’re back.”

He slid his fingers over hers, her warmth banishing the cold forever making him feel empty inside. “Is it true?” Caught in a vicious place between denial and hope, he forced himself to meet her gaze.

She nodded.

“You never said anything.” At her raised brow, he clarified, “Aside from after what happened at Pendragon’s.”

“You said you didn’t want to be with me. And I stupidly believed you.” She sounded unsure about which one of them she was most annoyed with.

“You’re not going to hit me again, are you?” He found himself grinning even though the news shook him to the core.

The stunning woman sitting in his lap wasn’t meant for anyone but him. He didn’t know how fate had conspired to make it happen, and now that he knew, he couldn’t imagine not being with her.

He smoothed her hair back from her face, drinking in every inch of her like he hadn’t done it a thousand times already. “How long have you known?”

“Right before what happened with Tristan and Kennedy. I wasn’t fully immortal before…before everything changed,” she added, guessing he was thinking that far back. “If I had known then, I doubt I would be sane or alive by now.”

He frowned. “The Forgotten?” He’d crossed paths with gargoyles trapped in their beast form, all traces of their humanity gone. Everything inside him went still as the next thought sank in. “That’s what you meant at the start of the competition, when you said your family couldn’t save you.”

He understood now why she’d felt compelled to stay. Winning Excalibur could give her a shot at undoing the mate bond.

“It would never have worked,” she said, seeming to read his mind. Her thumb swept across his bottom lip. “I was crazy to think I could ever choose to let you go. I love you too much.”

His eyes slid shut, his heart thumping so hard he could feel the rapid-fire pulse of it at the back of his throat. He shook his head as though it could undo what had been said. “I hurt you.”

She tugged his hand until it spanned the throat he’d been unable to let go of before the wraith had taken over. “I’m fine.”

“I could have—”

Her mouth closed over his, cutting him off. Fast and hot and wild, she kissed him as though he might be snatched away at any moment. “You didn’t,” she breathed against his lips.

He buried his hands in her hair, taking another drugging taste of her. He couldn’t have pushed her away if he tried. She was in his blood, a part of him for better or worse. “The wraith,” he began, compelled to give her one more chance to change her mind, although the darkness inside him was the least of the obstacles facing them.

“Has always known.” Her eyes widened. “That’s why he takes control. To keep you from pulling away. Because he’s always known what you’ve refused to admit.”

Lucan held his breath, afraid he knew what she was going to say, afraid he might never voice the words if she didn’t.

The same tentative smile as the night by the lake curved her lips. “That you love me as much as I love you.”

He buried his face against her throat, holding onto her. Rhiannon had never possessed the ability to destroy him, but Briana could tear him down and he would never be able to come back from that.

She stroked the back of his head. “I don’t care what you are now or that your homicidal other half has the sparkling personality of a pet rock. It’s you and me.”

He would have laughed if not for the growl that rose up inside him.

“We’ll find a way.” She touched her forehead to his. “Say it,” she coaxed. “We’ll find a way.”

He felt the words rise to his lips, but how could he promise her what still seemed impossible? Even winning Excalibur didn’t guarantee his freedom. It was easy to believe Rhiannon would give anything for a chance to awaken her son, even release a wraith from service, but the goddess had proven over and over how fickle and cruel she could be.

What if she released Lucan and lashed out at Briana instead, a final reminder of the power Rhiannon had held over him? Could he take that chance? The thought of losing her to Rhiannon’s wrath was nearly as crippling as losing her to the animal that would take over if Briana couldn’t be with her mate.

He wouldn’t allow either to happen to her.

“Luc?”

He cupped Briana’s cheek. Over and over she’d trusted him when he was sure he hadn’t deserved it, put her faith in him when he’d tried so hard to push her away, and he refused to let her down again. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep us together.”

The vow didn’t feel like enough, but nothing would until they were free of both the Gauntlet and Rhiannon.

Then, if they were lucky, there would only be her brothers to contend with.

“It’ll come to you.” Over an hour later Lucan watched her stuff the map back in her pocket. He’d lost track of the number of times she studied the image and encrypted code as they made their way across the valley and into the trees so thick it would have taken a dozen men to circle the towering trunks.

“And if it doesn’t?”

He took the map away from her, stuffing it in his own pocket. “You’re going to make yourself cross-eyed.” If anything was going to mystify her, it should be him. He was pretty sure two minutes of his mouth on hers, and he could have both their minds spinning.

“We’re almost there and we still have no idea what we’ll have to face.” She stopped. “You’re thinking about kissing me again.”

“Maybe.” Admitting it was the fastest way to talk himself into reaching for her, and as much as he wanted that—badly—they didn’t have time for it now.

She shot him a shy smile over her shoulder, and he took three steps in her direction. One more and he’d be close enough to pull her into his arms. Knowing that he still wasn’t free to be with her did nothing to stop him from wanting to be with her, and this time the latter was winning.

And he had never felt more at home in his own skin.

Her lips parted, and he knew she was thinking about kissing him too. Kissing, touching—

She dropped into a crouch, her fingers hovering over marks in the earth. “Someone’s been here recently. “Seva or Elena. If it was Nessa the tracks would be deeper. Her weapons,” she explained.

Neither of them spoke as Briana rose, scouting the area before confirming the tracks were headed in the same direction. Another hour passed, maybe two as they closed in on the center of the map.

Briana occasionally glanced at his pocket, but didn’t ask to look at the paper and the scrambled letters at the bottom of the page. He knew she would have already memorized them by now, just as he knew she continued to puzzle it out when she wasn’t watching for more tracks and pausing to listen for anyone coming along behind them.

Having tracked countless immortals over the centuries, although not by foot the way Briana did, he admired her skills and knew that it gave them an advantage.

The ground shook beneath their feet. The first sounds of a fight rose above the wind that howled with arctic intensity, rattling the branches above them. He moved with Briana in the direction of the confrontation.

Trees to the right shook, a booming crack as loud as thunder rent the air. Through the foliage, sparks of blue flame burst toward the sky. Definitely Elena.

An angry roar followed, the trees ahead bending as something large brushed against them. Kel.

“I don’t think they’re getting along,” Briana said under her breath, edging close enough they could glimpse Kel’s dragon form, glossy black scales appearing almost to change color with the angle of light.

Knowing she wanted to judge how close they were to the center of the map, he pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her. She moved to the left, staying out of the other two immortals’ path. She pointed to a rock formation on the other side of Kel.

The dragon shot a burst of fire at Elena.

Holding up a hand, the sorceress deflected the fire, but staggered under the force of flames. “I was here first.”

Kel answered with a slash of his tail, taking out every tree and plant between him and the sorceress. The side of a destroyed trunk clipped her side and she hit the ground. Kel pounced, but Elena was already back on her feet, some kind of glowing barrier keeping the black dragon from crushing her.

Lucan crouched, pulling Briana down with him.

“Are we just supposed to wait them out?” Her gaze went back to the map, snapping up moments later. She scanned the clearing for something.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced back and forth between the trees opposite them, the rock formation and something on the ground between Kel and Elena. He thought it was only a scorch mark at first glance, but the mark seemed too perfect.

“What do you see in the middle of the rock formation, near the bottom?” She scribbled something into the ground near her feet.

He spotted the letter “m” carved into the rock. He opened his mouth to answer her, changed his mind. “A three. A sideways three.”

Her fingers moved across the earth. Was she writing the alphabet? “And in the ground and the tree at an eighty degree angle from here?”

It took him a minute to find the three in the trees, but it matched the mark in the center of the clearing. “They’re all the same.”

“Which letter is the key?” She studied two lines of the alphabet she’d written in the dirt, glancing back at the code at the bottom of the letter.

Even if he knew what she was talking about, he didn’t have the chance to answer her. The ground in the middle of the clearing split open, tossing Elena and Kel apart on opposite sides of the divide.

“Briana!” She needed to see the fountain of water spouting from the crack and rushing toward them.

She crossed something out in the dirt and scribbled faster. “I need more time.”

“We don’t have it.” The water was only a few feet away.

Briana’s response was cut off by a screeching howl. White and blinding, something erupted from the divide, streaking over the top of Kel and Elena.

“Who foolishly disturbs me?”

The voice, a whisper that came from everywhere and nowhere, sent a chill ripping up Lucan’s spine. Water rushed over his feet, rapidly climbing as high as his knees. The frigid temperature cut into his bloodstream.

Briana stood next to him with her eyes closed. Kel and Elena retreated from the opening that continued to flood the clearing, the water waist-high on the other two immortals all but pointing the finger at each other.

“I summoned you.” Briana took a step forward from the trees hiding them from immediate sight.

What the fuck?

He reached out to stop Briana. A wall of water knocked him away from her. He regained his footing easily, but letting go of his human form didn’t allow the next six-foot wave to pass right through him. Once more he was on his ass and Briana even further away from him.

Briana dropped to her knees, and the water rode up to her chest. “I apologize for the intrusion, Lady of the Lake.”

Lady of the Lake. The four words at the bottom of the map.

The white form made up of threads of light and menacing shadows, dispersed, revealing a woman who looked no older than her early twenties and dressed entirely in white. Waves of long black hair fell halfway down her back, her narrowed eyes so dark they reminded Lucan of the wraith’s.

“And you are?”

“Late to the show,” Elena put in.

A wave nearly twice the size of the sorceress slammed into her, knocking her back in the water. She came up sputtering.

“Briana Callaghan.”

The Lady of the Lake, an immortal shrouded in more mystery than the gods, tipped her head, regarding Briana with interest. “Another gargoyle?” She glanced at Kel, dismissing the dragon who didn’t move except for the flaring of his nostrils. “And your business with me?”

“We’re competing in the Gauntlet.” Again Elena answered.

This time the water came from behind the sorceress, lifting her off her feet and holding her immobile as the Lady of the Lake turned in her direction. “I know well who you are fledgling, but unless you wish to die in this competition here and now, you will be silent.” She faced Briana once more. “Show me.”

Briana rose, tugging at her pants and revealing the mark of the Gauntlet branded on her hip.

The ancient one’s gaze moved to Lucan where he continued to try to reach Briana. “He’s protective of you,” she mused. “Unusual.”

Something in her eyes had Briana growling.

“I have no interest in your mate, gargoyle.” She released her hold on Elena at the same moment the water receded, draining back into the earth faster than seemed possible.

With the water gone, Lucan slogged across the muddy ground to reach Briana’s side.

The Lady of the Lake sighed, her expression so still Lucan almost missed the blink of sadness that crossed her face. “I will honor my vow.”

Briana glanced at him, equally confused. Vow?

A length of chain appeared at Briana’s feet, and he nodded to where the thick ropes of silver all but hummed with old magic. She glanced from the chains to the Lady of the Lake. “What are they for?”

“Not what. Who.” The Lady of the Lake’s gaze shifted to Lucan. “He will not be taken without them.”

“I don’t understand.” The chains offered no clue as to who they were meant for.

Briana frowned. “Where do we find him?” Whoever he is, went unsaid.

Shaking her head, the ancient one burst apart in a blinding white cloud of light, receding into the trees like a fog moving back out to sea.

Alone once more, the other immortals digested what just happened, looking at each other—and then Kel charged.

Lunging forward, Lucan struck the dragon’s body, barely slowing him down. But it gave Briana the few seconds she needed to snap the chains off the ground.

One minute he was trying to hold off a wall bent on trampling both he and Briana to get the Lady of the Lake’s chains, and the next he was slamming into an entirely different one.

Lucan stumbled back, spinning around in his room at the mansion. Briana wasn’t with him.

The wraith stirred, claws raking along Lucan’s awareness wanting to find her, but not nearly as much as the man still reeling from her confession.

He should have figured it out on his own, should have realized her feelings were as genuine as his own. If hadn’t been so determined to protect her from himself…

He stopped, bracing his hands on the door, old doubts surfacing.

We’ll find a way.

Her words haunted him now. It didn’t matter how certain he was that Rhiannon would find a way to end him before she’d ever willingly release him, he refused to let Briana down again.

If he won the Gauntlet—

No. He cut off that line of thinking. No more what ifs. The only woman to get under his skin, to mark a place so deep inside him he’d have to cut out his heart to loosen her hold, wanted to be with him. Loved him.

And that was more than enough.

Despite the ties to Rhiannon, for the first time in centuries he felt free. Because of Briana.

He wrenched open the door, took a few steps into the hall, stopped.

Briana walked toward him, every tentative step taking way too long. He couldn’t wait anymore.

He strode toward her, extinguishing the distance that separated them, determined that nothing else would part them again.

She met him halfway, leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her mouth came down on his, her hands caging his face, the fierce tenderness threatening to take him to the floor.

His hands tangled in the hair at her nape, both of them tired, cold and wet—and he’d never known a better moment in his life.

Breathing hard, her eyes were shiny as they met his. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come to me or if you’d changed your mind.”

He silenced her with another kiss, dragging it out with long, thorough sweeps of lips and tongue until he’d convinced them both he was done pushing her away. She belonged with him.

Always had.

“I’m scared too,” she murmured, reading him too easily.

He was pretty sure that scared didn’t come close to describing the fear that drilled through his middle. The thought of something happening to her before had scared him. But now…

The wraith snarled, hungry to destroy a world that would dare hurt her in any way.

He kissed her again, carefully touching his lips to hers, more testing the waters than diving in. Everything between them had always felt rushed, stolen moments snatched from their real lives, and he didn’t want to rush this one.

He could never undo what happened in the past, couldn’t wipe out the memories of hurting her, but he could replace every single one of them with something so much better.

Her arms tightened around him, eating up every millimeter of space between them. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Tucking his face against her throat, breathing deeply, he carried her inside.

Chapter Thirteen

Briana held on for dear life. If she could feel the weight of Lucan’s arms, the slow caress of his mouth, then maybe she could convince herself this wasn’t another illusion. They were truly together.

It didn’t matter if the odds were stacked against them—a territorial goddess, a competition that could kill them before it was all over, her brothers—he was here because he wanted to be. Finally.

Lucan set her beside the bed, her body sliding down his in what felt like slow motion, touching every part of him. He left her long enough to close the door and then he was back. He turned his face into her hair, then her cheek, her neck.

She didn’t know how he could move so slow, touch so soft and still seem like he wanted to devour her whole. She could feel his hunger in the tremble of his fingers skimming down and up her back as he tugged her shirt off, in the way he kept constant contact with her skin, in the devastating gaze that rarely left her face.

It should have been too much, staring into eyes that revealed…everything. There were no secrets left, no misunderstandings. Everything was different and yet nothing had changed. She couldn’t get enough air, yet felt energized, alive in a way she only knew when they were together.

Lucan’s hands went to the button on her pants, working them over her hips and down, inch by inch. On his knees, he tugged off her footwear and freed her legs of the wet material, then folded his arms around her waist. He pressed his face to her abdomen and drew her even closer.

Neither of them moved for a long moment, and never in her immortal life had an embrace so humbled or rocked her. Centuries of bottled-up emotion and excitement ignited in her stomach—and that was before he opened his mouth on her skin.

A kiss. Then another. And another. Then he slid her underwear down and off. He nudged her back to the bed, and she let her shaky knees go and sat.

Broad shoulders widened her legs, then more kisses—wet, teasing and setting every nerve ending on fire—followed up the inside of each thigh, his lips slowing, lingering the higher he went.

“Don’t hold your breath.” A carnal grin curved his lips, and she realized she’d been doing exactly that, every cell in her body waiting.

He bent his head, parting her folds with a long, silken stroke of his tongue. Gripping the edge of the bed, she squirmed beneath him. The next pass was even softer than the last, so soft she could barely stand it.

She lifted her hands to touch him, and he caught her wrists, pressing them back to the bed.

“Keep them there.”

The rough command unleashed a rush of heat that wrapped around her body, pulling taut with every lazy flick of his tongue, every swirl across her clit.

He pushed a finger inside her, then two, and she nearly came off the bed.

“Lucan.” She could almost feel his hands tightening around hers, as if he still held them, leaving her at his mercy.

His lips moved over and across her, his tongue curling around the aching knot that pulsed in wicked pleasure. One minute she had a hold of the sensations rioting inside her and the next they were ripped away in a feverish landslide.

She sank her hands into his hair, holding him to her as she lifted her hips, her body spinning tighter, tighter. A hard thrust of his fingers, another brutal pass of his tongue over her clit and a bone-deep shudder snapped through her.

Crying out, her eyes met his and the pleasure turned explosive, triggering an orgasm so intense she screamed out her release.

Pure male satisfaction crossed his face, and she melted into the bed as Lucan resumed kissing the inside of her thighs. Her slowing heartbeat picked back up the moment he stood, his hand going to his pants.

Needing to please him the way he did her, she sat up. She made quick work of getting his shirt off and then finishing with his pants and boots. Somewhere in the middle Lucan stripped off her bra.

“This one is new.” She touched the biggest scar on his shoulder.

“One of Morgana’s trolls.”

Rising to her feet, she circled him, remembering the marks that had both intrigued and worried her so very long ago. He’d barely known an existence without war and death, and if it took the rest of her immortal life, she vowed that he would.

He would know what it was to smile first thing in the morning and laugh until his stomach hurt. Days of it. Weeks. Years.

And he would know what it felt like to be loved first, last and every moment in between.

She pressed her lips to his skin, wishing she could replace every scar with a better memory, a sweeter one, a hotter one.

Watching his face, she closed her fingers around the length of his cock, and a sound of approval rumbled in his chest. From base to tip, she tugged as light and teasing as he had. The feel of him in her hand, smooth and hard, aroused her as much as if he continued to stroke between her legs.

Lucan’s eyes slid shut, his hands clenching at his sides. Rising up on her toes, she ran her tongue across his bottom lip, slipping inside to graze the tip of his.

He nipped at her mouth. “Don’t tease, kitten.”

She grinned. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” She moved to her knees.

Pumping slow and easy, she licked the length of him, and then pulled him into her mouth.

Lucan let his head fall back, sinking his hands into her hair.

Dead.

Someone had done the impossible and finally put him out of his misery. And now he was in heaven. Or at least on his way. And he knew without a doubt she was going to be the one to take him there.

He watched her tongue slide the length of his cock, her lips part as she closed her mouth over the head.

Ah, fuck.

Ruthlessly seductive, she took him deeper, the lush walls of her mouth sucking slow and easy. He tried not to tighten his fingers in her hair, tried not to quicken the pace of her decadent mouth taking him in, fought it to the point his legs locked and his ribs threatened to crack under the force of his beating heart.

She moaned around him, the slick suction deepening, and then he couldn’t help but close his hand over hers, pumping a little faster. The need to touch her for just a second rapidly turned into ten, then thirty, then sixty as he moved with the carnal pace she set—slower, then faster, then slower again, the most incredible torture he could imagine.

“Briana.” He was too close to coming.

Another long, lazy lick and she glanced up at him.

Cursed? Not even close. How could he consider himself anything but lucky with her on her knees and her heart in her eyes?

There still hadn’t been enough time to process that she was his. All he had to do was find a way to keep her, and prove to her every day after how damn lucky he was to have her in his life.

Dragging in a breath, he moved with her mouth, sliding between her lips and pushing deeper into the wet heat. The heady promise of release rolled across the back of his neck. He groaned and pulled her to him, laying her on the bed and following her down.

The bluest eyes he’d known stared up at him, and this time he felt no fear that he would drive her away.

She pinched his cheek, and he caught her fingers, bringing them to his mouth. “What was that for?”

“Making sure I’m not dreaming.”

“Shouldn’t you have pinched yourself?”

She scoffed, her smile playful. “It would probably hurt.”

He growled and rolled her on top of him, pulling her down to nip at her neck.

“Do it,” she murmured, offering her blood, part demand, part sultry plea.

“Last time—”

“I was fine,” she insisted. Gripping his shoulders, she moved her hips, rubbing the wetness between her legs along the head of his cock.

He gritted his teeth, the pleasure steamrolling through him. “You slept for hours.”

“Didn’t you wonder why I never went to stone? It wasn’t the venom in your bite that weakened me.” She shifted to rub against him again. “Think about it.”

How was he supposed to think about anything when her breasts were plastered to his chest, her nipples hard? Without even trying he could imagine the feel of them in his mouth, his tongue curling around the dark pink tips.

He gripped her hips. Gods, he could barely reason with himself, let alone her when all he could think about was touching her. He wasn’t sure if that made him weak or just fucking crazy about her. And it sure as hell didn’t explain why he dragged her up his body so he could reach one dark pink tip.

She sighed deeply, and he sucked her harder between his lips. “I want to feel you inside me.”

He had her on her back before she even finished speaking.

Every part of him burned for her. He hovered over her, bending to capture her mouth as he pushed inside her.

And then the world stopped. Complete and utter standstill.

He was damn sure he stopped breathing, knew he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence even if his life depended on it.

Sweet Avalon.

He told himself to go slow, every flex of his hips, every thrust, every single moment that he held still, a part of her, the pleasure deliciously excruciating.

“Luc.” Her back bowed, her hands going over her head to snare the blankets beneath them.

Slipping from her body, he gently bit on her nipple, letting the seeking pressure drag another cry from her lips. Thighs parted, a sexy flush darkening her skin, her dark hair spread out beneath her, she was still every bit the wild thing who had crept into his life with the same unexpected intensity that had her clinging to him.

And it had all started when she held that wooden sword at his throat, taunting him about embarrassing him further.

“Luc, please.”

She didn’t need to tell him what she wanted. He wanted it too. Wanted to dive off the edge, crash into the pleasure that would snatch the breath from his lungs as she caught him all over again.

He couldn’t have stopped it any more than he’d been able to prevent the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t do that night—fall in love with her.

Impatient, she shifted beneath him, letting him slide even deeper. It couldn’t have been more than a millimeter, maybe two, and he shot to a whole new level of scorching need that stunned him.

He pumped his hips, letting the need for release dictate the mindless rhythm that consumed him. He slipped a hand beneath her hips, holding her above the mattress and making them both moan at the exquisite friction.

“Harder,” she breathed.

More than willing to accommodate, Lucan drove into her, and felt his control start to slip.

He fought the instinct, not wanting to drink from her so soon and risk the fragile bond—

Briana sank her teeth into the curve between his neck and shoulder, the bite hard and savage enough to make him clench his jaw, but it didn’t slow him down for even a second.

Every part of him roared in acceptance of the predatory brand that marked him as hers in every way, and he thrust inside her again. One more hot, slick glide that rocketed him to a mind-blowing release.

By the gods.

“Lucan?”

He opened his eyes, not sure how long he’d been lost to the almost violent orgasm. Briana cupped his cheek, and he turned his face into her palm. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Probably not,” she sighed, grinning.

Growling, he bit her hand in mock punishment, letting her teasing keep him from backsliding to a dark place. He’d lived in the shadows long enough. “I love you, Briana.”

“How did you get the nickname Lancelot?” she asked sometime later, her voice sleepy, content.

Drawing circles across her hip, he shrugged. “I was good with a spear?”

Briana arched a brow, not buying the easy answer. “Is that so?” She slipped a hand under the sheet, feeling her way up the inside of his thigh. Right when he thought she’d purposely misunderstood what he meant by spear, her fingers wiggled across his skin.

Laughing, he trapped her hand in his. “What are you doing?”

There wasn’t a trace of innocence on her face. “Looking for a ticklish spot.”

“What makes you think I’m ticklish?”

The adorable frown he loved creased her brows, then she attacked with her other hand, and he sat up, scrambling across the mattress. “Don’t.”

Eyes narrowing in playful challenge, she cocked her head, her feline half emerging. “What did you say?”

“Briana,” he cautioned.

She pounced, finding the only ticklish spot on his body. He hadn’t remembered it even existed until the tips of her fingers added just the right amount of pressure to make him squirm.

Laughing, he trapped her hands behind her back. He couldn’t have planned the move better if he’d tried when she ended up tucked against his chest, every gorgeous inch back in his personal space.

Kissing him, a fun, flirty pass of her lips across his, she then drew back, a sexy smile on her face. Every single accomplishment he’d achieved paled in comparison to knowing he’d inspired the infectious grin.

“Seriously,” she added. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around your friendship with Arthur.” And Gwen. She didn’t say it, but he heard the curiosity in her tone.

“I should have gone looking for you that night. I wanted to.” Wanted so much more than to just apologize for the way he’d let the evening end.

“It’s done now.”

He shook his head. Part of him wanted to take the free pass she offered, but she deserved an explanation. “I was barely ten years old when my parents decided they wanted a permanent tie to Gwen’s family. They’d been friends for years, so to them a marriage uniting their lands made sense.”

“But it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Not what either of us wanted.” Only a few years later Gwen had met Arthur, and though he’d excelled at finding trouble then more than steering clear of it at the time, Gwen had fallen hard.

“That night in your tent,” she began.

“Gwen was there in hopes of seeing Arthur.”

Briana nodded thoughtfully. “But you never married her.”

“It was bad enough I’d chosen to turn away from the one who held my heart in her hands, I couldn’t sit and watch Gwen do the same. So I broke the betrothal.” And broke his parents’ hearts in the process. Morgana’s armies had invaded and killed them before he’d been able to set things right.

Fate had given him a chance to make things right with Briana, and there wasn’t a moment he’d let pass without making sure she knew how grateful he was for each and every opportunity.

“Were you the one to tell Gwen about Arthur?”

He shook his head, the past reaching out to drag him back into darkness. “By the time I’d returned to Camelot with Arthur’s body, she’d already heard and locked herself away, refusing to talk to anyone. Then she disappeared, and soon after Morgana claimed responsibility for killing her.” Not everyone believed that, some insisting Gwen had taken her own life, unable to live without Arthur.

“And Lancelot?” Briana brought the topic back to her original question as she settled next to him. The soothing comfort of her fingers tracing a path down the middle of his chest made his eyes grow heavy. “Kel mentioned there was heavy drinking involved when Arthur came up with it.”

“Kel?”

“When we were trapped in the catacombs.” Her gaze turned pensive, like she was trying hard to think about what he’d said. When she didn’t add anything else, he continued.

“It was a few months after Arthur pulled Excalibur from the stone. We’d stumbled across a group of men raiding a small farm. The two of us were out-numbered by over a dozen, and seeing as we’d just been kicked out of an inn for causing a disturbance, we were both feeling too good to care.”

“So you were drunk.” Briana grinned. “And you won?”

“Fuck no.” He laughed, his ribs tensing as though they remembered every bruise he’d taken in that fight. “Excalibur or not, we weren’t standing when they finished with us.”

“And they didn’t try to take Arthur’s sword?”

“More than one of them sure as hell wanted to. The guy leading their group, no older than either of us, wouldn’t allow it. Said if it hadn’t been for him, Arthur and I would have come out ahead in the end.” His lips curved remembering that night.

Briana rose up on one elbow. “And then what happened?”

“They rode away and I picked up a spear and threw it at them though I could barely lift my arm by that point.”

“Who did you hit?”

“No one the first time. So I threw another one. On my fourth try I clipped Constantine’s arm.”

Her eyes widened. “He was part of the group?”

“He was the leader.”

Sitting up, Briana shook her head. “Just so I’m understanding this, the three men known for building Camelot and uniting over half of Avalon all started out as…criminals?”

“Criminals might be a bit harsh.” Slightly accurate though when he thought of how many times he’d let Arthur talk him into breaking the rules. Only by some miracle his family hadn’t caught wind of his extracurricular activities with Arthur when they were younger.

“What changed?”

“I think only Arthur really knows the answer to that.”

Briana rested her head on his shoulder. “He’ll come back, you know that, right?”

He hadn’t believed it in so long he barely recognized the flicker of hope that caught in his chest.

Hours later, Lucan woke hard for her. Knowing he should let her sleep as long as they could before the next competition didn’t stop him from running his hand down her back and over the tempting curve of her ass.

She stirred in the sheets but didn’t open her eyes.

Pressing his lips to her shoulder blade, he followed the part that disappeared between her thighs. She was still wet. That undeniable fact redirected all the blood in his body to his cock. Hungry for her in every way, he slid through the dampness, pressing inside her in a slow thrust.

Briana moaned softly, arching back and taking him deeper.

Rising up, he barely gave her time to come awake before gripping her hips and pulling her to her knees. He took his shaft in his hand, fit himself against her snug opening, rubbing back and forth, and then plunged inside her.

Briana’s head fell back, her claws raking the sheets as she cried out.

The sound of total abandon prompted him to withdraw and sink back into her. And then he couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop pushing every inch deep into her core. He hissed out every breath, the silky walls squeezing him tight, so fucking tight.

“Briana,” he growled, pounding faster.

Her hips moved perfectly with him, rocking back to meet each frantic thrust. He slid his hands around her ribs, cupping her breasts. She arched her back, and he followed the graceful line down to where he could watch himself sliding in and out of her.

Almost hypnotized by the sight of her taking him deep, he closed his eyes, the same savage appetite as before surfacing in searing waves.

Taking a handful of her hair, he exposed her neck, and before he could talk himself out of what he wanted, what he needed, he traced a path with his tongue, and sank his fangs into her skin.

Her hand shot up to catch his nape, holding him to her as they moved in frantic unison. The taste of her was like nothing he’d known before, so much darker, sweeter, layered with tangled nuances that he could spend forever unraveling, drowning in.

Like his feelings for her.

Satisfied after only a few hard pulls of her blood, he rocked back, pumping hard and fast into her. Her cries of pleasure intensified, and he could feel her clenching tighter around him.

Slipping a hand between her thighs, he only brushed her drenched folds, circled her clit, and she shot over the edge. Through the shudders that wracked her body, he continued to thrust inside her, burying his face in the curve of her neck as his own release plowed into him.

They collapsed onto the mattress afterward. She didn’t complain that he laid half on top of her, linking their fingers as tightly as the bond growing between them.

Barely more than a handful of hours together and they’d been separated again.

Briana’s feline half hovered close to the surface, stalking the edges of her mind, wanting to track Lucan. Doing her best to ignore the instinct riding her hard, she took in the detail work on the walls surrounding them.

It felt like only minutes ago she’d been wrapped up in Lucan’s arms, half drugged from the pleasure he’d wrung from her body until neither one of them could move. Now she found herself in a dim-lit corridor that worried her far more than the catacombs had.

“This is some kind of joke, right?” the enchantress demanded, looking away from the dead-end wall they faced. “They sent us to Camelot? Why not just drop us over the wall in the courtyard and let the vines rip us apart?”

Apparently the enchantress was still annoyed that she hadn’t decrypted the code in the last round that led to her own mother, the Lady of the Lake. She’d been grumbling about it nonstop while Briana continued to wonder what vow the Lady of the Lake had referred to before leaving the chains behind.

Discovering they were in Camelot should have been enough to shut the enchantress up. Instead, it just gave her something else to talk about.

“Maybe it’s another illusion,” Seva added. The enchantress was the only one who’d been transported to the same vicinity as Briana for their current challenge.

“I don’t think so.” Maeve and Aren had more than enough time on their hands to think up new ways to test them without repeating challenges. There wasn’t a doubt in Briana’s mind that the gods had dumped them into the heart of Morgana’s territory.

Once a shining beacon of Avalon’s potential, Camelot was now the poster child for greed, treachery and every homicidal tendency that went against the ideals Arthur had died fighting for.

She couldn’t help but wonder how Lucan was handling being back here. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than watching Arthur slip away all over again, even it hadn’t been real.

“What do you think Treasach’s Moon is?”

Briana shrugged. “Could be an exhibitionist for all I know.” Maeve and Aren had been deliberately tight-lipped about what exactly they were looking for in the fourth round of the competition. The conversation had lasted less than a minute in the courtyard, before they’d been dropped into Morgana’s backyard, and the only clue had been that they’d know Treasach’s Moon when they saw it.

Whatever that meant.

Preferring that the enchantress go her own way, Briana turned down the closest corridor to search on her own. When the enchantress didn’t immediately follow, Briana hoped the other immortal had gotten the message.

As she rounded the next corner, movement behind Briana set the cat off, and she pivoted, blocking the narrow blade the enchantress tried to bury in her stomach.

Catching the enchantress’s wrist, Briana shoved her backward, beating her forearm against the wall until she dropped the weapon. If she’d been even a second slower to turn around, Seva would have gutted her on the spot.

Crying out, the enchantress reached out with her nails to rake Briana’s face. Blood pooled beneath Seva’s nails, the minor scratch pissing Briana off more than anything. She slammed her fist into the other immortal’s face.

The enchantress crumpled to the ground, her gaze remarkably vacant. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?”

Seva blinked up at her, and Briana realized someone had been pulling the enchantress’s strings.

Briana glanced around, half expecting to see the culprit lurking in the shadows. They appeared to be alone. For now. She had no intention of waiting around to see if someone else came hunting for her. Twice now, she’d been targeted, erasing any doubts the first attack had been purely coincidental.

Leaving the enchantress still sprawled on the stone floor, Briana stepped over her. She didn’t get far before footsteps echoed in the corridor ahead of her. There were too many scents—dampness, blood, matted fur and unwashed bodies—to pick through to better identify whoever approached.

Briana flattened herself against the wall, slipping the dagger from the sheath strapped to her calf.

Vaughn rounded the corner, arching a brow when he saw the weapon in her hand. “When I used to joke about you playing for the other team, this isn’t quite what I meant.”

Sighing, she lowered the blade. “I’m a little jumpy.” She didn’t bother to mention what had happened with the enchantress. It would lead to more questions than either of them had time to get into.

“I’d say you’re entitled seeing as you’re mated to a wraith.”

Given Nessa’s comment about Briana being a walking blood bank right before Maeve and Aren had sent them here, it shouldn’t surprise her to know that Elena had filled Vaughn in on what the Lady of the Lake had said.

She couldn’t say the same about the barely veiled disgust in Vaughn’s voice. He’d never been one of Lucan’s biggest fans, but neither had he seemed that strongly bothered by him, as long as he didn’t have a sword at his throat.

They walked in silence, and thinking about what Lucan had said at the start of the Gauntlet about her own friends turning on her if the stakes were high enough, she questioned the wisdom of putting either her or Vaughn in that position with only two challenges left to go.

Thinking of parting ways with him in favor of finding Lucan, she paused at the next place the corridor branched off. Camelot’s subterranean levels were almost as confusing as the catacombs.

“Don’t go that way,” Vaughn cautioned, pointing to the stairs that disappeared to the level below.

Briana hesitated. “How do you know what’s down there?”

He shrugged. “Stole a few things from the weapons room down that way. A heavily guarded weapon’s room.”

Somehow she knew his “few things” was probably an understatement. “How did you get past the guards?” If he’d liberated anything from Morgana’s armies this deep inside Camelot, he must have had help.

“A goddess may have been involved.”

Briana stopped. “Rhiannon?” Since when had she taken an interest in the rebellion? She couldn’t imagine Vaughn risking his neck for anything else.

Nodding, her friend paused before choosing the corridor that went left. “Any excuse to make trouble for Morgana.”

Not for the first time Briana wondered why Rhiannon, far more powerful than Morgana, hadn’t taken care of the power-hungry sorceress herself. What was Morgana holding over the goddess’s head?

The corridor slanted downward, the lighting dimming as they moved into what she could only assume was one of Camelot’s dungeons. She’d heard the original dungeon had been expanded to satisfy Morgana’s desire to imprison and torture anyone who still admitted loyalty to Arthur.

The first row of cells they passed sat empty, but the further into the area they moved, the more cells showed signs of humans and immortals huddling in the farthest corners.

“Where are all the guards?” She lowered her voice as much as possible.

“Waiting to jump out and yell surprise?” Vaughn ventured.

This was one of the few times she didn’t quite appreciate her friend’s sense of humor. Increasingly wary, she half expected some of the more coherent prisoners to raise the alarm, bringing half of Morgana’s army down on their heads.

The enchantress hadn’t been that far off the mark with her earlier comment. The vines would be far more merciful than the sorceress who’d encouraged her son to kill her own brother.

Vaughn frowned. “The population’s grown since I was here last.” Something in his tone warned her that he wasn’t talking about the time he’d raided the place for weapons.

Briana kept her attention fixed straight ahead, trying to ignore the pull to free those of her race she could hear growling in their cells. The odds of an unplanned jail break having any chance of success was slim to none when she didn’t even know the way out. “Is this where she keeps them?”

“Anyone affiliated with the rebellion, yeah,” Vaughn finished.

It crossed her mind to ask if his imprisonment had anything to do with his nightmare the other day, but her attention fell to the shadow on the floor to her right. The crescent vanished as someone’s body blocked the candlelight—the only cell to have any—projecting the shape on the floor.

Vaughn walked ahead a few steps before noticing she’d stopped. “What is it?”

Red eyes gleamed from inside the cell. A Korrigan.

She edged closer, careful to keep from making direct eye contact as the candle was extinguished. Something moved in the cell.

Two hands gripped the bars inches from Briana’s face, and she found herself staring at Lucan.

“What are you doing—” The question died on her lips when she noticed the cell door was slightly ajar and he wasn’t alone inside with the Korrigan. Nessa stood just past Lucan’s shoulder, her face as blank as Lucan’s.

They’d been entranced.

Chapter Fourteen

The roar of Briana’s blood pounding through her veins nearly deafened her. She thought they’d been sent to retrieve some kind of moon-shaped mystical object or relic, not a person.

“Kill her,” the Korrigan hissed at Lucan, stepping from the protection of the shadows to reveal the crescent-shaped glyph on the immortal’s left cheek.

Apparently they’d found Treasach’s Moon—and she wanted them dead.

Lucan frowned, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the bars. “No.”

“Do it,” the Korrigan snarled, edging toward the door. She gestured to Nessa. “No one follows me.”

Not good.

Vaughn grabbed Briana’s arm. “We need to go.”

On instinct she jerked free of his hold. “Lucan—”

“We can’t help him if we’re in pieces. Even if he can’t kill us yet, he can make it hurt like hell.”

The cell rattled as Lucan shook the bars, looking ready to tear right through them. Black pooled in his eyes. “Run,” he snapped. “Now. Can’t…fight…it.”

Pushing past Vaughn, she locked her fingers over Lucan’s. “You have to try. Do you know when I fell in love with you? Hey,” she cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze, knowing it was too late. She was losing him. “It was the moment you took my hand, after the lake, when you didn’t laugh at me for wanting to join the Guard.”

“Briana,” the pained growl bordered on feral.

“That’s the moment you stole my heart.” He needed to know that, needed something to hold onto as he spiraled into a place she knew she couldn’t reach him.

“Back away from the door.” Each word became less human sounding.

Helplessness radiated through her, and she forced herself to retreat. “It’s okay. I’m going to be okay.” She needed him to believe that. Both of them needed to believe that.

The cell door flew off its hinges, coming close enough Briana felt the breeze of it just missing her and Vaughn’s head. Nessa stepped into the corridor, her sword drawn. She made no move to attack them.

Briana couldn’t say the same about the wraith. He launched himself out of the cell, his murderous gaze locked on her. By accident or intentionally, Vaughn ended up between them. The few seconds it took the wraith to throw Vaughn away from him, allowed the Korrigan to burst past them and vanish around the corner.

The wraith bared his teeth at Briana, his lower half completely phantom. He stalked her in a circle, and she kept both the cat and her fear locked down. She knew if she moved or betrayed the damning emotion, he’d be on her and she wouldn’t have a chance.

Vaughn hauled himself to his feet. “I’m sorry, B. I have to go. If I don’t win…” He winced, holding a hand to his side where the wraith had clawed him. “He has my sister, Briana, and I’m the only chance she’s got. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t even get the opportunity to ask who in the hell Vaughn was talking about. Eyeing Nessa, her friend bolted after the Korrigan, leaving her to deal with the wraith on her own.

Lucan had warned her not to count on her friends.

Not the time, she reminded herself, watching Nessa take off after Vaughn. For his sake, he needed to catch up with the Korrigan before the huntress caught up with him.

Between one beat and the next, the wraith lunged forward. Using the door Nessa had thrown, she pivoted and jammed it up between them. Shoving it at him, she spun around to run—and slammed right into Kel.

The dragon’s hands came up to grab her. She was too distracted by the sight of the wraith’s phantom form bleeding through the cell door to fight Kel off. Now he’d have his chance to see her torn apart.

Murderous claws emerged from the shadow bearing down on her.

“Go.” Kel shoved her behind him. “I’ll slow him down.”

She wanted to tell him to stay out of the wraith’s way, but the very real possibility that Kel running interference might be the only thing standing between her and the wraith fulfilling the Korrigan’s command changed her mind.

Sprinting in the opposite direction, she focused on sifting through the scents, isolating the smell of rotting oranges to track the Korrigan. She refused to consider what would happen if her signed death warrant didn’t expire when someone—even Vaughn—caught up with Korrigan and ended the round.

An unholy roar rocked the walls somewhere behind her, but she didn’t dare look back. Didn’t even slow down until a curvy blonde dressed in a leather pants and a long dark jacket, lips stained blood-red, stepped into Briana’s path, stopping her cold.

Sweet Avalon.

Morgana.

Lucan knew Briana wasn’t dead.

He could have hurt her, maybe even killed her, but he hadn’t. She’d gotten away, saved by the last immortal Lucan would have ever expected.

Kel stood opposite him, bleeding all over the courtyard from the wounds the wraith had inflicted in Camelot’s dungeon only moments ago.

“Get out of my way,” Lucan snarled, having no problem taking another chunk out of the dragon he’d been fully prepared to kill the moment they’d been invited to participate in the Gauntlet.

“She’s gone.”

“No!”

Lucan whirled from the wall in the courtyard he’d been prepared to scale if that’s what it took to get back to Camelot. He refused to believe the competition was over, that Briana had been somehow left behind when Vaughn caught up with Treasach’s Moon and ended the round.

He faced Nessa. “We have to go back for her.” Lucan glared at the rest of the immortals watching him, waiting for one of them to so much as twitch…

The homicidal compulsion to kill Briana may have evaporated the moment the round ended, but not the urgency that continued to hammer him. He needed to find Briana. Now.

He thought he’d been prepared for the Korrigan when he stumbled across her cell, but he hadn’t been expecting Nessa. The huntress had been the first to fall prey to the manipulative bitch Morgana had locked in the dungeon. The Korrigan would still be locked up if Lucan had his way—or dead if the wraith had his—but like every other prize they’d retrieved, Treasach’s Moon had disappeared at the end of the round.

Just like Briana.

“You heard what Maeve said,” Nessa added, referring to the god’s dismissal of Briana’s disappearance as an unforeseen complication.

Ignoring the huntress, he stalked toward Vaughn. “You should have stayed with her.”

It took the wolf effort to climb to his feet, his hand still pressed to the wound left from the wraith’s claws. “I’m not the one who tried to kill her.”

The wraith snarled, knowing the gargoyle was right, and that only made the anger eating through Lucan a thousand times worse.

“She might be better off,” Elena began, falling silent the moment Lucan glared at her, unable to suppress the wraith’s certainty that Briana belonged with them. Always.

We promised her.

He shoved his hands through his hair. “There has to be a way.”

“Win the Gauntlet,” Vaughn drawled. “Barter the sword for her freedom.” He sat back down, sucking in a breath as he pulled his shirt away to check his wound.

“He can’t do that,” Nessa interrupted, crossing the courtyard to stand opposite Lucan. “That would mean betraying Arthur. You can’t do it.”

Fuck, they didn’t even know for sure the gods had Excalibur. “So I just leave her there?” Did the huntress even hear what she was saying?

Elena glanced from Vaughn to Lucan. “We freed one prisoner,” the sorceress reminded them. “We could do it again.”

“We?” Vaughn scoffed.

If the dragon hadn’t been between them, Lucan would have slaughtered the wolf.

“Unless Morgana allowed Treasach’s Moon to be taken.” Bran spoke up for the first time, saying what had already occurred to Lucan when he realized there hadn’t been a single guard watching over any of the prisoners.

Even Morgana wasn’t that cocky.

But none of that explained what the hell had happened to Briana. He knew he hadn’t hurt her, and the fact that the dragon had been the one protecting her was all that kept Lucan for lashing out when Kel eased back to lean against the wall and said, “All of this is assuming she’s still alive.”

“She is.” He knew that with a staggering certainty he clung to in the face of what that Korrigan might have compelled him to do. It didn’t even mattered that he hadn’t been with her during the competition. He’d still posed a threat to her.

Would always pose a threat.

Whatever it took, he would find a way to free her from Camelot—and then he’d free her from the mating bond.

He wouldn’t allow her to be hurt again because of him. She wouldn’t have been anywhere near Camelot if he hadn’t talked to her that night at the Wolf’s Den in Vegas. If he hadn’t gotten near the penthouse that night, half hoping for a glimpse of her, she would have escaped the gods notice.

At every turn he’d made the selfish decision where Briana was concerned, stealing another moment, drawing out their time together until she was the one to suffer over and over. He couldn’t do it again. Once freed from the mating bond, she would be happy and safe.

She had to be.

For once the wolf was right. Win the Gauntlet and win the kind of power that he could use to get Briana back.

And it would only cost him everything he’d once believed in.

Lucan eyed the wall again, vaguely aware of the others leaving. Everyone but Kel.

“She wouldn’t want you to risk it.”

The dragon was the last one who should care what happened to him or Briana. What was he after?

“If she’s still alive—”

Lucan snarled.

Kel sighed, pushing away from the wall. “Then it’s for a reason. It’s your job to keep your shit together until you figure out what that reason is.”

If he wasn’t still struggling to deal with the fact that they’d come back without Briana, his head just might have exploded at Kel’s unexpected advice. Lucan had been just as shocked as every other knight and gargoyle on the field the day Kel had deserted them, but he didn’t know what to do with this.

Kel shrugged as though it didn’t matter if Lucan understood his motives. “I get it, you know. She changes everything. Makes you feel like someone else, someone you used to be before you became the monster you hate more than everyone else.”

Lucan watched Kel look at the wall like the dragon had thought about climbing it more often than he had.

“She makes you almost believe,” Kel continued, “for just a minute, that if you can love her enough, maybe it will make up for your mistakes.” He met Lucan’s gaze. “And you’d do anything to make that minute last for an eternity.”

The unexpected exchange rattled around in Lucan’s head long after Kel had left him alone, the dragon’s insight hitting much too close to home.

She’s ours.

Ignoring both the wraith and the gut-wrenching certainty that he’d never be able to let her go, Lucan forced himself to think about the final round of the competition, and eliminating every obstacle standing between him and winning.

“You didn’t eat your breakfast.”

Briana turned from the balcony that laid Camelot out before her, and faced the sorceress who had stunned her by putting her in a guest room instead of a cell.

Morgana took a taste of something on the platter that sat untouched on the table near the massive poster bed that could have slept half a dozen people. “I can see why.” Her nose shriveled up, the gesture not detracting from the face that would have been splashed across every woman’s magazine if the sorceress had craved a life on modeling runways.

“I’m still here.” Had been since the others had been snatched away, leaving her at the sorceress’s mercy. Morgana hadn’t volunteered any explanation for how she’d interfered with the brand on Briana’s hip that the gods had claimed kept them in control.

A lie?

“Indeed you are.” Morgana sprawled on the lounge chair opposite the balcony. The sorceress looked…bored.

“Why?”

They’d already played this game, and Briana was no closer to figuring out what Morgana planned to do with her in the end. It was driving her crazy not knowing what was happening with Lucan. Had the compulsion to kill worn off or was he losing himself to the madness?

“You interest me.”

“The last time I interested someone I ended up in the Gauntlet.” She’d already shared some details of how she’d come to be in Camelot, not seeing the point in hiding it, and Morgana hadn’t been particularly surprised.

She snorted. “The Gauntlet changes nothing.”

Briana hadn’t mentioned the prize was Excalibur. Supposedly. She tipped her head, watching the sorceress bounce a foot. “Why did you kill Gwen?”

Morgana sat up, grinning. “No one has dared mentioned Guinevere’s name in my presence in centuries.”

“Do I win a prize?” she muttered, half hoping she might provoke the sorceress into revealing her intentions.

Morgana burst out laughing. “You are the first one to talk back to me in a very long time, kitty-cat. I’ve missed it.” Rising to her feet, the sorceress strolled around the room. “I see now why Maeve chose to include you.” It was the first time the sorceress had mentioned either of the gods behind the Gauntlet, and it couldn’t be a coincidence.

Someone had to be feeding her information. One of the competitors somehow? Or the gods themselves? Briana couldn’t imagine what the point of the latter would be, but little of the competition had made sense up until now anyway. How could she expect that Morgana’s possible involvement would be straightforward?

“So what’s in it for you, kitty-cat? You don’t strike me as the type to enter the Gauntlet for power.”

Briana cocked her head. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

Morgana pursed her lips as though she wasn’t sure. “So not power or revenge,” she tacked on. Her shoulders drooped. “Don’t tell me it has anything to do with love.” She held up a hand. “Don’t even answer. Only a woman foolish enough to fall in love would pace around the room every other second like you’ve been doing since you got here.”

“I guess it’s not surprising that you’re spying on me.”

“What kind of hostess would I be if I didn’t?”

“Hostess? Some might say warden.”

Morgana pointed a finger at her. “You’re fun, and a little too bright to waste time micromanaging your brothers when you’re not playing with your glamour toys.”

“You’ve been doing your homework.” Whatever doubts Briana had about Morgana knowing much about her had been officially put to rest.

“Well I was thinking of hiring someone to upgrade my security system. I’ve recently had some unexpected trespassers.”

“I’m not sure you could afford me.” It seemed a safer response than asking if the sorceress had been sipping her own potions. There wasn’t a job in this realm or the next that she’d take from Morgana.

“You’d be surprised what I could offer you.”

Sensing that Morgana wasn’t about to elaborate just yet, Briana glanced at the untouched food on the table. “Will I have company at dinner as well?”

“Perhaps.” The sorceress smiled again, a chilling edge to her curved lips that kept Briana unsettled. “If you’re still alive by then.”

“Why haven’t you killed me already?”

The sorceress shrugged and it was the first sincere gesture Briana picked up on.

She took a seat on the lounge Morgana had abandoned. “How long did you keep Gwen alive?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Morgana winked, making it difficult to gauge whether the sorceress was trying to be likeable—which flew in the face of everything Briana thought she knew about her—or just screwing with her head.

The latter seemed the most likely.

She watched the sorceress pick up a few trinkets as she strolled around, the last one in particular snagging her attention.

“This was Mordred’s room,” Briana realized, voicing the discovery aloud.

“It was. It’s been empty far too long.”

Briana stared at her. What had possessed Avalon’s most powerful sorceress to set Briana up in her dead son’s bedroom? She wanted to attribute it to some creepy part of the plan to rattle Briana, but somehow that didn’t fit. Morgana was much too powerful to waste time manipulating people that way.

“You miss him,” she guessed.

Morgana arched a brow. “Am I portrayed as so unfeeling I couldn’t possibly mourn the son I adored?”

Briana hadn’t thought about it. She had been too busy, like every other gargoyle, mourning the loss of friends and family and trying to adjust to a life lived only in darkness, hours of sun warming only their stone exteriors.

“When did you find your mate?” the sorceress mused.

Rising, Briana turned toward the balcony where the sun had come up a few hours ago. “Recently.”

“And does he love you?”

There was no hesitation on her part. “Yes.”

Morgana crossed to the wardrobe that still held men’s clothing Briana now knew had to be Mordred’s. “How do you know?”

“How do you know the sun will rise tomorrow?” There was no way to put her belief in Lucan into words. She only wished she’d seen past her own fear and Lucan’s determination to protect her earlier. Maybe they would’ve had more time together.

“An interesting comparison for a gargoyle. So your mate, who loves you, has he lied to you yet? Hurt you? Betrayed you?” Morgana tapped each fingertip in succession. “It’s what they do.”

“Are we still talking about me?”

Morgana arched a brow. “Clever kitty-cat.” She flipped through the clothes hanging inside. Her fingers lingered on a familiar shirt, the collar ripped, though someone had sewn it back together.

It took Briana a moment to place it, though it had been far more stained with blood the last time she’d seen it. “That belonged to Arthur.” Briana was sure he’d been wearing it in the illusion of the battle at Camlann.

Another coincidence? Or had it been exactly what he’d worn the day of that fateful battle and the sorceress had somehow gotten hold of it.

Morgana closed the door on the wardrobe.

“You miss him too.” Briana was too stunned by the possibility to think through the consequence of sharing that particular suspicion aloud.

Morgana turned around slowly, the move eerily lethal, though she made no move to attack. “My brother deserved his fate. He betrayed his family. He betrayed me.”

Betrayed how? Curious, but knowing that she risked riling the sorceress too much by probing too deeply about Arthur, she went with, “And Gwen? Did she deserve her fate?”

“You can let me know.”

The cryptic response succeeded in rattling Briana far more than the Gauntlet had. Her lips parted, but the only question she had left had nothing to do with Gwen or Arthur and everything to do with an ongoing power struggle that seemed horribly unbalanced to her.

“Why does Rhiannon allow you to live?” If the goddess could enslave Arthur’s knights and could lock an entire shape-shifting race in stone, how could she not manage to retaliate against Morgana?

The sorceress looked smug. “Because I am the last tie she has to Arthur.”

Something clicked in Briana’s head.

Rhiannon. Every one of the immortals competing had a connection to the goddess.

Lucan was Rhiannon’s unwilling mercenary while Nessa was faithful and devoted. Kel was at the top of the goddess’s most wanted list, and Elena’s house was known for their loyalty. The enchantress had already mentioned the goddess had expressed interests in her magic, and Vaughn had talked about Rhiannon’s support for the rebellion against Morgana.

Briana’s family had given Rhiannon not one but two of the lost daggers, leaving only Bran. She and the Fae had talked little throughout the competition, so it was possible Briana just didn’t know what connected him to Rhiannon, if anything did.

Could he have been the one who’d manipulated Lucan into attacking her or used the enchantress to slow her down near the dungeon? He certainly hadn’t offered any explanations for how he’d controlled the vines in the catacombs.

But why her? What threat did she pose that he would want to remove her from the games?

Morgana gave her a considering look. “Dress warm,” the sorceress quipped, heading for the door. “We’re taking a little trip.”

“What do you mean she’s not in there?” Tristan jumped to his feet, crossing the small clearing Sorcha just entered. Cian and Emma continued to keep watch, knowing the edge of the forest offered them little protection so close to Camelot. “You said—”

The ex-huntress held up her hands. “Briana was here. An old acquaintance inside—not that kind of acquaintance,” she interrupted to glare at her scowling mate. “Told me they left earlier today.”

Tristan’s brows shot up. “They?” Was the wraith still with her?

“Briana and Morgana.”

“No.” Cale shook his head. The oldest of the Callaghan siblings wasn’t nearly so calm and quiet when he cursed under his breath. “How in the fuck did that happen?”

Sorcha blew out a breath. “Briana is competing in the Gauntlet.”

Christ. Tristan stalked away, then spun back around. He’d thought Sorcha was off her huntress rocker when she’d suggested that Morgana might be the only other immortal in the loop about the Gauntlet. There wasn’t much the sorceress didn’t know about what happened in Avalon.

And if Lucan had anything to do with Briana being dragged into the Gauntlet, there wasn’t going to be a piece of the wraith left when Tristan finished tearing him apart.

“And she’s still alive?” Cale clarified, the relief evident in his voice. “So what was she doing here?”

And why the hell hadn’t she tried to get hold of any of them before now? Tristan wanted to know. He knew he’d been pushing her too hard and she’d probably guessed his reaction to Lucan being her mate, but he couldn’t imagine her avoiding all three of them if she was in trouble.

“It was part of the competition,” Sorcha explained. “And apparently something went wrong.”

Things had been going wrong since the wraith had come along—

“He’s her mate.” Kennedy touched his arm, always knowing what he was thinking.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not responsible.”

She shook her head. “That’s like holding you responsible for me being marked for assassination.”

He growled, but didn’t argue. “Lucan’s a bad influence.”

“Spoken like an overprotective brother,” Kennedy murmured. “And you’re going to have plenty of time for that.”

God he hoped so. His last conversation with Briana hadn’t gone well and he needed her to know that he’d always have her back, even if she’d fallen for a wraith.

Tristan turned his face into his mate’s hair, letting her scent calm both man and cat. Long seconds later, he glanced at Sorcha. “So what now?”

The former huntress let out a breath. “Now we wait.”

“Welcome to your final challenge.”

Get the fuck on with it, Lucan thought. He didn’t shiver against the glacial breeze that shrieked in warning where they stood halfway up the side of a dormant volcano. Didn’t worry about what lay inside the mountain.

He thought only of winning. He would not fail at this, wouldn’t let Briana down the way he had countless times before.

He didn’t pay much attention to the others, but could sense their varying degrees of determination much the way he could sense an immortal’s fear. It was stronger with some—Vaughn, Kel, Elena—than the others.

Nessa was the wild card. She hadn’t won any challenges but had tried talking him out of even considering the idea of trading Excalibur for Briana—if he won—numerous times since the end of their last challenge two days ago.

Two days without Briana.

He’d gone lifetimes without her by his side, but every minute apart now was sucking another piece of him back down into darkness. He should have been starving by now, but even the little blood he’d taken from Briana continued to sustain him, strengthen him. Rarely crossing paths with others like him, there was no one to offer any explanations for why that was.

Because she’s ours.

Lucan was really starting to hate how the wraith, always content to deal in death and suffering, now had an answer for everything.

“Inside you will find the Onyx Beast. Subdue him and bring him to the altar where these will be waiting for you.” Aren held up the chains the Lady of the Lake had given Briana.

Lucan couldn’t shake the suspicion that something was off about the whole damn competition. Each round seemed to involve setting up the next one. The stones in Tintagel, according to Briana, had been used to gain entrance to the Catacombs. The scroll for that challenge served as a map for the next. The chains would be used to restrain the beast, though he couldn’t figure out how Treasach’s Moon fit yet.

“When the chains are in place,” Aren continued, “the final competition will end and the winner proclaimed.”

The group of immortals said nothing.

Maeve’s grin slipped. “There will be no interference from either of us should actions be taken to eliminate another competitor.”

So all bets were off then.

Lucan didn’t mind in the least. For centuries he’d allowed himself to be haunted by what he was capable of, wraith or no wraith, and now he embraced it. How ironic that to save Briana he would need to become the worst version of himself.

“Is that it?” He cut his gaze to Maeve, impatient to finish this.

The goddess narrowed her eyes, then nodded to Aren. Next to him, Treasach’s Moon appeared, her eyes blindfolded and her hands restrained behind her back.

“We’ve upheld our end of the bargain.” Maeve said to no one in particular.

The wraith shook violently deep inside him, the Korrigan’s proximity rousing every murderous instinct his darker half possessed.

“Don’t be stupid,” Kel hissed against Lucan’s ear.

The dragon couldn’t be talking about grabbing the Korrigan by the throat. That was the smartest decision Lucan could make from where he was standing.

The air stirred, another Korrigan joining them from nowhere. Menace slithered off the older male who ignored everyone but the gods and the bound female with them.

Treasach’s Moon started to cry. In fear or relief, he wondered briefly. Not that he cared. She wouldn’t even be alive if the wraith had had his way.

The older Korrigan waved a hand behind them. “You may enter.”

So the Moon was their way inside. Was it Korrigan territory? He hadn’t heard of Korrigans marking territory so far from Avalon. Lucan could tell by the expression on Kel’s face that the dragon was equally surprised.

“Come.” The Korrigan took the female’s hand, and the pair disappeared, making Lucan wonder how their magic could remain so strong so far from their land.

“You may begin.” Maeve nodded at them, and between one second and the next, Lucan found himself within the dormant volcano.

The narrow trail in front of him wound deeper into the mountain. To the right, the ground fell away at a steep angle, a drop that would rip an immortal to shreds with the sharp rocks jutting from the ledge before dumping them onto the solidified lava hundreds of feet down.

Lucan welcomed the wraith rising close to the surface as he headed downward. Occasionally he heard one of the others, but he still hadn’t crossed paths with any of them by the time he reached the first opening that branched off from the inner volcano.

The occasional torch held complete darkness at bay, casting shadows and highlighting the occasional illegible scrawl that decorated the rock walls. Every once in a while, Lucan passed a drawing that started out looking like letters of some kind and transitioned into loops and slashes.

He paused in front of one particular symbol that tugged at his memory. He tipped his head as though he might be able to place the misshapen drawing. It was impossible to tell how old the markings were.

Was the beast responsible? Or someone else?

The sound of swords clanging echoed in the tunnel. There was no way to tell what direction it came from, but nothing indicated anyone had found anything more than each other. He needed to keep looking.

A recessed opening nearly escaped his attention. The drawing over the entrance to the almost non-existent passageway hinted at the same shape that continued to tease his subconscious.

He managed to work his way into the opening and through to the chamber on the other side. Hundreds of candles lit the space, though he could see no sign of the wax actually melting.

What might have passed for a bed—nothing more than ripped pieces of sheets tangled together like a nest—was tucked into a small alcove. The ceiling rose to a towering peak that Lucan could swear reached the outside.

Watches, hats, flashlights, wallets, camping gear, dishes and dozens of other small objects lay scattered across on side of the chamber, most of the stuff predating this century.

Only one thing stood out to him, and he knew he had to be fucking seeing things. He stepped over and around the piles on the floor, his heart rate kicking up. He picked up the chalice, his fingers closing over the jeweled stem cast aside like another piece of junk.

Impossible…

The Grail? Here?

He scanned his surroundings, hunting for any other clue that could explain how the chalice Arthur had used to make his knights immortal ended up like a hoarder’s treasure in a dormant volcano.

He tried vanishing it the way he did with his sword, but the object remained stubbornly in his hand. Magically safe-guarded?

Knowing the others would view it as significant as Excalibur, he tucked it close to his side. With his hand curled tight around the hilt of his sword, he skirted the perimeter of the chamber, slipping into another tunnel on the other side.

Lucan could hear the sound of another confrontation ahead of him. Leaning around the column of rock, he watched Kel advance, his opponent blocked by the gargoyle’s body. Kel yelled, jerking his arm back from the blade that sliced down, splashing blood on the ground at the dragon’s feet.

Telling himself he was content to let Kel and whoever it was take care of each other, he turned back the way he’d come. He needed to find the Onyx Beast, needed to win. He took a few steps, stopped, another drawing rising up on the wall to his left.

He glanced down at the weapon in his hand, his gaze sliding over the etchings in the blade, then back to the drawings on the wall. Moving closer to the light that seemed to shrink and dance away from him, he compared the etchings on the blade and the wall.

Compelled beyond reason to turn around, Lucan backtracked to where Kel drove forward, blade meeting blade as he fought off a man a few inches taller than Lucan.

Scraggly dark hair hung in the stranger’s face, the lower half hidden by years-worth of beard that made it hard to even guess the other immortal’s age. And from the way he moved, his speed and agility marking him as a lethal predator, he had even more training than Kel. A glyph in the shape of a medallion sat square in the middle of the man’s dirt-covered chest.

Kel roared, pivoting to block the relentless blows from the stranger. The dragon managed to hold him off, going so far as to knock his attacker off his feet. The medallion glyph darkened to a black.

Hands back by his head, the stranger glanced at Lucan right before he pushed off, bridging himself back to his feet in a seamless, signature leap that made Lucan lose his grip on the Grail.

Constantine?

Chapter Fifteen

“We expected you sooner.”

Unzipping the jacket Morgana had given her, Briana watched Maeve and Aren approach. The four of them stood inside a cavern of some kind, the rudimentary altar to their right reminding Briana of something an ancient race would have used to sacrifice virgins. The four stakes, as thick as Briana’s arms, looked to be stained with blood.

Morgana merely arched a brow at Maeve’s chiding remark, but didn’t respond. “Do you have what I came for?” She held out something long and thin wrapped in fabric that neither of the gods bothered to look at.

So they had been in touch. Since Morgana had left her alone, Briana had been spinning theories, trying to fit the pieces together. This new one though, Morgana’s nonchalant behavior with two gods who likely didn’t care about her connection to Arthur, stumped her even more.

Maeve nodded. “They will be yours shortly.”

They? Briana slanted Morgana a sidelong look that had the sorceress grinning.

“She returns to the games.” Morgana curled her finger, motioning Briana closer like they were BFFs and the sorceress had the latest gossip to share.

The lines around Maeve’s mouth tightened. “Of course.”

Briana tried to keep her mouth from falling open. Just what kind of hold did Morgana have on everyone? She even thought about asking, when that icy kiss of awareness touched her neck.

Lucan?

The sorceress arched a brow, but didn’t ask what Briana sensed. Maybe she already knew. Morgana tugged the jacket off Briana’s shoulders. “I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

Briana sincerely hoped not.

Morgana straightened, flicked some invisible lint off Briana’s shoulder like a proud momma sending her cub off on her own, and winked. “Now be a good kitty and run along.”

Half expecting Maeve or Aren to intervene, Briana bolted away from the others. The second she hit the closest tunnel, Lucan’s scent intensified, and she stripped her shirt and pants off, shifting into her cat form.

Arms and legs stretching in a warm rush, she propelled herself to a run. She lost his scent twice, backtracking each time to regain it.

“Briana?”

She didn’t slow down, darting past Nessa.

Lucan was close. The increasing rhythm of her heart had nothing to do with tearing down tunnels and across one confusing as hell chamber littered with garbage and flea market rejects. She needed to see her mate with her own eyes, see that he was okay.

She spotted the Fae first. Bran stood with his back to her in the opening of another tunnel, his knuckles white where he held onto the rock. She skidded to a stop next to him, ignoring him the moment she spotted the man crouching in the middle of Lucan and Kel.

Something around the guy’s neck glowed, his gaze wild, like one of the Forgotten.

“Con?” Lucan stepped forward at the same time Kel’s head snapped around, shock burned into his face.

The man growled, the sound deepening to an animal’s.

Con? As in Constantine?

By the gods, was there a part of the Gauntlet that she’d ever be able to wrap her head around?

Lucan nodded at Kel, and the dragon let his sword hit the floor. The gesture didn’t faze the immortal who looked crazy enough to try taking on everyone in the competition.

And that was before a blinding light sparked from his chest. Briana ducked her head to escape the vicious light, and when she peeled her eyes open, she caught only a glimpse of the man shifting into a creature that reminded her of a black tiger, only much bigger.

And then he launched himself straight at Lucan.

No fucking way.

Briana didn’t even think about it. She threw her body forward, slamming into the tiger the moment the other cat knocked Lucan off his feet.

Eyes an eerie gold followed her as she circled around her mate, never looking away from the tiger that shuffled back to its feet. Her whole body throbbed like she’d been run over by a tank, the worst of it easing the second Lucan sank his fingers into the fur at her neck.

“Briana.”

As anxious as she was to rub herself against Lucan’s side, she didn’t dare take her eyes off the other knight who had somehow become a gargoyle. Or something.

“Con, you know us,” Lucan tried.

The tiger showed off its teeth, lowering his head like he was going to attack.

“You have to get him to the altar. The chains,” Bran explained without taking a single step toward the animal. “Don’t hurt him. There is no way of knowing what affect that will have on the blood-bond with Arthur.”

Lucan looked as bewildered as she felt. Why did the Fae care about the bond between Arthur and his heir? There wasn’t time to figure it out or how they’d get the massive tiger anywhere. Constantine turned and fled.

She scrambled after him, aware of Lucan yelling for her to stop. Too quickly she lost track of where she was, but the tiger’s scent was unmistakable. He was smart enough to try and lose her, backtracking to confuse his scent trail.

Shadows stirred as Lucan’s phantom shape emerged next to her moments later. “The altar is that way.” He nodded to the tunnel ahead.

She padded to the opening on the left. Constantine was hiding down there, and she could tell by the scrabbling of claws over rock that the former knight had confused and trapped himself.

Lucan took a step toward the opening, but she darted inside ahead of him. He opened his mouth to argue, but she butted him with her head, pushing him so he blocked the only other way leading away from the altar.

She could see in his eyes that he wanted to stop her.

“We don’t know what he’s capable of.”

Showing off her feline teeth, she reminded him that right now she was the only one who might be able to understand the feral instincts guiding the cornered tiger.

Lucan gripped the scruff of her neck, his fingers sinking into her fur. “Be careful.”

Bumping his hand with her head, she turned around—and was slammed into the wall. Claws sank into her side, and she snarled at the pain that ripped through her middle.

Clamping down with her jaw, she narrowly missed the tiger’s throat.

Lucan yanked her back. “Con!”

The tiger stilled, and for the first time she got the impression the animal was really hearing him. Then the tiger’s ears flattened, his body sinking low to the floor in a deadly coil.

Lucan dropped to his knees, his hand stroking her fur. “This is Briana,” he said softly. “She’s my mate.”

The tiger hissed, but didn’t look quite like he wanted tear Lucan’s arm off.

“You gave her the Blade of the Black Heart, remember? Told me how stupid I would be to turn away from her. You were right.”

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.”

Ten feet away the wall disintegrated under the force of the three gods slamming into it. He needed to get her out of there before they brought the whole damn house on top of them.

He scanned their surroundings, deciding the best path. “Hold on to me.” He slipped his arm under her.

“No.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “Don’t. It hurts too much.”

“You can handle it, Briana. You’re strong.”

She shook her head. “Been fighting too long. Tired.”

A yell pierced the air, and Lucan watched through the busted wall as Aren’s body arched. The dagger skated across the floor in the hall, bumping harmlessly into the crown molding.

Held immobile by something Lucan couldn’t see, Aren missed seeing Rhiannon throw Maeve through the window. Rhiannon had Mordred’s sword in her hand by the time the other goddess regained her footing.

Maeve shot her brother a helpless look, and vanished.

Rhiannon spun, the blade in her hand going to Aren’s throat. “You wait thousands of years to get even, only to use them to get to me?” She jerked her head to indicate Lucan and Briana.

“She killed their brother,” Briana said, her voice strained. “She broke their triumvirate.”

“I was just returning the favor,” Rhiannon explained without taking her eyes off Aren. “They took both my brothers from me, first.”

“Them, not me,” Aren insisted, betraying no concern over his fate.

The goddess cocked her head.

“I couldn’t stay in the cell any longer, Rhiannon. You needed me.”

Lucan tried to follow the conversation, but Briana started to shiver.

“I’ve never needed you, Merlin.”

Briana’s hand tightened around his at the unexpected return of the exiled sorcerer.

Sighing, Rhiannon let her hand and the sword fall back to her side. “I thought you were still locked up. Where’s Bran, the real one?” she clarified as Aren/Merlin relaxed.

“Back in my cell. Still asleep in my body.”

The real Fae, Lucan realized, had never been competing in the Gauntlet. His body had been no more than a vehicle for Merlin, the same as Aren’s was now. Later he’d ask how the sorcerer pulled off that kind of trick, right after Lucan made him undo what he’d done to Briana.

“You did this to her.” Briana’s hand was the only thing keeping Lucan from going for the sorcerer’s throat. “Make it right.”

He crouched next to them. “I’m sorry, young one. There was no other way to save her. Her death would change everything.”

“Rhiannon’s,” Briana whispered.

Aren/Merlin nodded. “I couldn’t let that happen.” His gaze swept over her. “If there had been another way…”

“You can’t save me.”

It took Briana’s words for Lucan to understand what the sorcerer was really saying.

Lucan launched to his feet, the sorcerer’s throat in his hand and the wraith roaring in outrage. “You will save her.”

“I can’t,” the sorcerer choked out. “There was no other way. I tried to alter the course of my vision during the games but nothing changed the outcome. You still won and Rhiannon still died. Then I realized that Briana was the key. Without her, you would lose the drive to compete.”

“So you tried to make me kill her.” The Fae had been the one pulling his strings when he’d nearly strangled Briana.

“Only with her death would the future correct itself.”

“Fool,” Rhiannon growled. “You know better than anyone that trying to interfere with the visions—”

“You’re an Oracle,” Lucan cut in, realizing that the sorcerer Arthur had trusted since boyhood was one of rare immortals who were also clairvoyant.

“I had to try,” Merlin insisted, his eyes on Rhiannon. “I already lost Arthur. If anything had happened to you…” he broke off, and Lucan thought maybe the god inside him was fighting for control. Merlin shook his head, his hands coming up to brace his temples.

“What’s happening?” Lucan released his grip on the sorcerer.

“Another vision,” Rhiannon guessed.

“No,” Merlin hissed, almost in unison with Briana.

Something hit the floor, and Lucan turned to find the goddess unconscious, the hilt of the dagger lodged in her back.

Behind her prone body, Morgana stood, her eyes narrowed in dark satisfaction. She held up a hand when her gaze fell on Merlin. “I’m the only one who can remove it, and I can’t if I’m dead.”

“How did you—”

“You’re not the only oracle in town, you know,” Morgana offered as though it might explain how she’d managed to out maneuver all the gods and Merlin. “Father.”

Lucan released his grip on the sorcerer, his attention darting to Briana. Merlin was Morgana’s father? That didn’t make any sense. She and Arthur were half-siblings and Arthur’s father had been human. Even Rhiannon had claimed that, told everyone he’d died.

“I wasn’t always as I am now,” Merlin offered.

“You were human once, before you, too, drank from the Grail,” Briana whispered, the wheeze of her breathing rolling into a cough that brought blood to her lips. “You were still human when you fathered Morgana and Arthur.”

Merlin nodded.

“Fathered being a very loose term,” Morgana clarified, her expression dimming when her gaze locked with Briana’s. She scowled at Merlin. “Didn’t Arthur’s death teach you that you cannot stop fate?”

“Our choices are not predetermined,” he argued.

“Maybe not, but the end result often is.” Morgana took a step toward Briana, but that was as far as she got before Lucan was in her face, letting the wraith all but claw its way through his skin.

Arching a brow, the sorceress leaned past him to see Briana. “Are you really, really sure?” She sighed a moment later. “Apparently we really should’ve had that chat about slumming it.” She glanced at Lucan. “You can move your ass, or you can watch her die.”

He didn’t let himself believe a word. “They said—”

“And how many of them are even standing here in their own bodies?” She glanced at Merlin. “No offense.”

“Lucan?” Briana could barely raise her voice above a whisper. “It’s fine.”

Though it went against every protective instinct in his body, he stepped aside. The sorceress crouched next to Briana.

She held out a hand and the Grail appeared in her open palm. “Be a good wraith and put some water in this for me, ’kay?” She waited for him to take it, adding “Seeing as how my father, the body snatcher, didn’t even use it to save Arthur, I don’t think you want to trust him to fill it up.”

“It would have destroyed him,” Merlin snapped.

The Grail could have saved Arthur? Not waiting to hear Merlin’s explanation—Lucan already wanted to tear the sorcerer apart, never mind what the wraith wanted to do—he rushed to fill the chalice with water and hurried back to her.

Morgana waved for him to give it to Briana.

“If she suffers any further,” Lucan warned, his hand tightening around the stem.

“Then your Mr. Hyde will hunt me down, suck me dry and crush my bones to dust.” She rolled her eyes. “I get the gist. Get on with it.”

Briana’s scorching skin heated his palm as he slipped a hand behind her neck. She whimpered, but parted her lips to drink. The seconds ticked off in his head.

Her arms shot out as her body arched off the floor, her eyes rolling back into her head.

No! “What the fuck did you do?” He demanded an explanation though he didn’t let his eyes leave Briana.

“Patience, Lancelot.”

Her body curled inward, her claws scraping the floor as she shifted into her cat from. Eyes a vibrant blue opened as Briana raised her head, her sleek panther form rising to curl around him, purring.

He buried his face in her soft fur, his fingers sinking in until she butted him with her head, telling him that his grip was too tight. Sweet Avalon. He hadn’t lost her.

“You owe me one, Lancelot.”

He met Morgana’s gaze.

The sorceress winked at him. “And I always collect.”

The next moment the sorceress and the Grail vanished, leaving them alone with Merlin. He crouched next to Rhiannon, stroking her hair.

“You still love her,” Lucan said, absently running his hand down Briana’s back.

Merlin raised his head. “Perhaps.”

“Is she still alive?”

“She sleeps, much like Arthur.” He stood. “There’s a reason gods do not procreate.”

Lucan glanced at the dagger that had been crafted by Constantine, who carried Arthur’s life force. “Aside from the swords, they’re vulnerable to pieces of themselves.” Rhiannon’s own son had been her weakness. “And the Gauntlet?”

Merlin shrugged. “If it had been the real thing, she’s the only one who would have survived.” He nodded to Briana. “You’re not easy to kill.”

The cat bared her teeth at him.

“Did Arthur know you were his father?” Lucan asked.

“No.”

“Did he know he would die that day at Camlann?”

Merlin took his time answering. “No. Even the events that seem so clear have a way of changing. Nothing is static. I know that better than anyone and yet…” Crouching once more, he placed his hand on Rhiannon. “I’m taking her to the huntresses. They’ll be her best protection for now.” Right before he vanished, he said, “I’ll be in touch.”

Hours later Briana hadn’t moved from Lucan’s side. Not even when Tristan insisted on speaking to her alone, code for talking some sense into her.

All three of her brothers and their mates had walked into a disaster zone less than an hour after both Morgana and Merlin disappeared.

“So what I don’t understand,” Kennedy began, the youngest immortal among them, “is why Arthur didn’t die the way Mordred did since they both had swords from the gods.”

Lucan ran his fingers back and forth across Briana’s wrist. “To make Constantine his heir, Arthur had to bind their life forces. As long as Constantine lives, there’s a chance of resurrecting Arthur. If we find Excalibur.”

“So why did Maeve and Aren give a sword to Morgana?” The question came from Sorcha who sat perched on the arm of the chair, next to Cale. Although her oldest brother hadn’t wanted to attack Lucan on sight like Tristan had, his brows scrunched together every time Lucan went out of his way to touch her.

“Contributing to Arthur’s death was a way for Maeve and Aren to hurt Rhiannon.”

“So with Rhiannon out of commission, where does that leave us?” Kennedy glanced at Sorcha. “Have your abilities changed?”

“No. My guess would be everything Rhiannon had in place remains the same as long as she’s technically not dead.” The former huntress glanced at Lucan. “You?”

“The wraith is still a part of me.”

Briana squeezed his hand. There hadn’t been time to talk about how he felt now that the wraith wouldn’t be going anywhere. But with Rhiannon out of the picture, he no longer had to worry about being compelled to carry out her orders.

Tristan shook his head. “I still can’t believe that Morgana is the reason you’re still alive.”

“And her connection to Merlin…” Emma shook her head, leaning back into Cian’s chest where they sat on the floor. “Mind blowing. Do you think that’s why Arthur could never get close enough to kill her? That Merlin was protecting her?”

Lucan shrugged. “I’m still having trouble getting past the fact that he can get inside immortals and run the show whenever he feels like it.”

Cale nodded. “So what happens now? I mean, will Maeve just give up or is the next Campaign and the real Gauntlet about to start as we speak?”

No one had an answer for that.

Briana rubbed her head, massaging the vicious ache hammering between her temples since she’d drunk from the Grail. Exhaustion pulled at her limbs, but she didn’t want to sleep, not yet. She wasn’t done with just holding on to Lucan, still trying to convince herself that they’d found a way to beat the odds that had been stacked against them from the beginning.

Tristan crossed his arms, watching her. “You need to rest.”

“I will.”

“You almost died.” Her brother narrowed his eyes at Lucan.

Her mate cocked his head, then met her gaze, a hint of a grin catching the corners of his mouth. “I think he wants me to act like an animal and just carry you off to bed over my shoulder.”

“Do not push me, wraith.”

“Or?” Lucan drawled, his voice the perfect balance of himself and his feral half. But Lucan understood what she wanted. Neither of them were prepared to sacrifice a moment, not even for sleep. Not yet.

Kennedy stood. “I don’t know about Briana, but I’m exhausted.” She tugged Tristan’s hand.

Tristan’s attention drifted back to Briana, and she nodded. There was still plenty to be said before Tristan would accept Lucan’s role in her life, but she didn’t have a doubt in her mind that he would.

“I’m tired too.” Sorcha nudged Cale. “I vote for picking this up tomorrow at Pendragon’s.” Cale nodded and stood.

“Hold on tight, tiger,” Sorcha warned, then flashed the two of them away.

“Think he gets motion sickness from that?” Cian pulled himself and Emma to their feet. He gave Tristan a stern look. “No dueling at dawn, bro. We’ll see you guys in the morning.” The pair walked out of the room, presumably to Cian’s wing of the house.

It took another minute of coaxing for Kennedy to persuade Tristan to leave the room.

“He hates me,” Lucan groaned when they were alone.

She cupped his face. “He’ll come around.”

“This century or next?” He leaned his head back against the couch. He stared off into space for a moment. “You were right.”

“Of course I was,” she answered, grinning. She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but the way she took credit for it made him smile. She knew she’d never get enough of the devastating curve of his lips.

“About the wraith,” he lapsed into silence, and she rested her head on his shoulder, content to let him sort through it on his own. “He was protecting me. And regardless of what Rhiannon did to me, she didn’t create the wraith, not entirely.”

She tipped her head back, watching him frown.

“I think there’s always been a deeper, darker part of me. The same part that we all have, that always finds a way to survive. Maybe the wraith is just an extension of that instinct.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. The only one who really knew exactly what had been done to all of Arthur’s knights was out of commission.

Like Tristan, Lucan would need time to adjust, and although she didn’t say it, she was pretty sure the deeper, darker part of him wouldn’t be nearly as much of a concern as he feared.

Her knees barely shook when she stood and held her hand out. “I don’t want to sleep but I’m not opposed to being carried out of here over your—”

Lucan flipped her up and over his shoulder. “Say no more.”

Less than twelve hours later she was ready to carry him away over her shoulder.

“Can I take the blindfold off yet?” The damn thing was itchy, but she hadn’t stopped smiling. Not even Tristan’s continued foul mood at Pendragon’s this morning had put a dent in the drugging euphoria that accompanied waking up in Lucan’s arms.

“Soon.”

She waited until she sensed he was looking at her, and tipped her head back.

Stepping behind her, he covered the blindfold with his hands. “No peeking.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” She had, however, been thinking about getting him closer. With his chest brushing up against her back and his arms framing the sides of her head, she couldn’t think of anything much closer, except maybe—

“Don’t,” he growled against her ear.

“What?” She gave her hips another wiggle, biting her lip at the feel of him getting hard for her.

He nipped her neck. “I’m trying to show you something.”

“This century or next?” she teased.

“Wench.”

She grinned again. She hadn’t minded crossing the veil into Avalon or the long trek through the woods with only Lucan’s hand to guide her. “Do not make me tickle you again, Lucan.”

He shuddered. “I’ve heard a lot of threats over the centuries, but that is by far the most terrifying.”

She spun in his arms, gripping his shirt as she rose up to find his mouth. She might have to wait for him to reveal his surprise, but she didn’t want to go another moment without remembering the taste of him.

His hand fisted at the back of her hair, tipping her head back to allow him better access to her mouth. Smooth and hot, he deepened the kiss, dragging it out until there wasn’t an inch of space between them.

Every doubt, every fear, every single hurt, had been worth it to finally be with him. And she wasn’t letting him go. Not now or ever again. That fierce certainty made her heart thump hard as she leaned into him, meeting the bold sweep of his tongue and almost forgetting what he’d wanted to show her.

Her back came up against a tree, and something dug into her. “Ouch.”

He kissed her again, slower, then turned her around, tugging the blindfold from her eyes.

She blinked, grateful that the canopy of trees overhead kept the sunlight from blinding her. It took a moment to notice the curving stairs that wrapped around the massive tree trunk. Each step looked built into the tree, rising to the balcony above.

Walking backwards to get a better look, she shook her head. “You built this?” She couldn’t take her eyes off the elaborate tree house that looked more like a modest cottage, complete with a thatched roof, upper loft with a ladder propped against an outside window and a swing that creaked in the early evening breeze.

“Whenever Rhiannon forgot about me for a while.”

“And you built it here?” She’d recognized the tree she’d been sitting in that night, waiting for him to find her when she’d run from him.

“You remember.” His eyes glossed over, and he glanced down at the ground.

Throat tight, she didn’t wait for permission before bounding up the stairs, stopping outside the door, her hand on the handle. His fingers closed over hers and their eyes locked as they opened the door together.

She frowned. “It’s empty.”

He pressed his face into her hair. “For now.”

“You should know my talent for decorating is non-existent.”

“We have lots of time to work on your skills.”

She moved into his arms. “Is that so?”

“Luckily you already have the most important ones nailed down.” He gripped her hips, tugging her flush against him.

“I’m glad you approve.” She bit his bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth for a teasing kiss that barely touched the need unraveling inside her.

He lifted her up, setting her on the open window ledge and stepping between her legs. “I try to make sure I know what I’m getting into.”

She tipped her face up, lulled by the caress of his thumb across her cheek. “Reading my eyes again, knight?”

He nodded, smoothing her hair back from her face.

Her gaze fell to his mouth, and the swirling heat sinking into his stomach. She leaned forward, her mouth drifting across his—seducing him, loving him. “And what are they telling you now?”

His heartbreaking smile would have taken her out at the knees if she’d been standing. He drew his thumb across her lip. “That we’ll find a way. Always.”

About the Author

A born and raised Maritimer, Sydney Somers fell in love with writing when she finished her first story, Jenny and the Glowing Green Mittens. After attempting her first book in high school, she set writing aside to focus on school. While getting her degrees in psychology and education, Sydney tried her hand at journalism between part time jobs before finally returning to her love of writing.

Twenty-five novels and novellas later, Sydney is thrilled to spend her days slaying demons, running with shape-shifter packs and making the people in her head fall wildly in love. When she’s not writing or curled up with a good book, Sydney can be found chasing after her herd of kids, talking her way into a gourmet meal, exterminating rogue dust bunnies or joking about the pending zombie apocalypse. She loves hearing from readers and invites them to email her (sydney@sydneysomers.com) or drop by her website (www.sydneysomers.com) any time.

Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3

Emma is used to getting dragged into her twin sister’s magical messes, but this time her predicament is more than a minor annoyance. She’s chained to a cat shifter that her sister encased in a curse of stone. Worse, the unfortunate gargoyle’s waking up. And her sister’s not there to take the heat.

After a century suspended in stone, Cian would do anything to get his hands on the sorceress who put him there. Strangely, his dreams of revenge turn into an animal hunger to put his hands all over her—in every delightfully wicked way imaginable.

Never as talented as her sister, Emma doesn’t trust her own magic. But for now she must let Cian believe she’s the culprit in order to strike a bargain: to permanently lift the curse in exchange for his tracking skills to find her missing sister. The longer she is near him, though, the closer she comes to surrendering much more than her body to the brutal warrior.

As their attraction catches fire, Emma dreads what could happen when he learns the truth. If he will sacrifice her to break the spell…or fight for a love that goes beyond animal instinct.

Warning: This book contains adult language, violence, bone-melting explicit sex and a stubborn alpha male who likes his revenge served hot, wild and strong enough to bring him to his knees.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Primal Pleasure:

“You would risk your family to keep me?”

For all the practice she had at masking her fear—thanks to Elena—the gargoyle’s steel-edged conviction made it hard not to take him seriously. As worried as she’d been over her fate, some small part of her had dared to hope he might willingly release her.

The look on his face, the unwavering blue depths locked on her, told her he meant every word. He really had no intention of releasing her.

“My family can handle themselves.”

She swallowed past the momentary panic clawing at her throat. “So revenge is all that matters to you?” She certainly hadn’t gotten that vibe when she’d touched his belongings and experienced those memories.

“Not all that matters, no.” He dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him.

“Whoa there, Chippendale. Let’s keep this PG rated.”

Unfazed, he moved his hand to the fly of his jeans, drawing her attention down his toned abs—and how had she missed those on the roof?

“Is there a problem?”

Hell yeah, there was a problem. She just couldn’t remember exactly what it was as the button gaped open just a fraction.

Focusing, she went with the obvious. “You just took your shirt off.”

“And yours is next.”

“In your dreams, gargoyle.” She slipped around him, finding it easier to keep a clear head when she wasn’t pinned between him and the wall.

He tugged his zipper down and circled her, pausing behind her long enough to whisper, “In my dreams the only thing covering your body is me.”

Her stomach grew hot at the image that unfolded in her mind. She shook her head to erase it as much to discourage him—as if that were possible—and preferably before the jeans riding low on his hips slid any lower.

Avalon help her, there was no way he was wearing any underwear beneath them.

She needed to stay focused on finding a way out of this mess, preferably with her clothing intact.

Given the way the corners of his mouth tipped up, as if amused by her white-knuckled grip on her shirt, the odds didn’t seem to be in her favor. That fact alone spurred her retreat.

Cian tensed like an animal about to take down its prey, but after a few feet, he still hadn’t moved. How was it that he managed to make her feel like she was being stalked when he hadn’t taken a single step in her direction?

She searched his face, finally understanding the wicked glimmer in his eyes. He was enjoying it. He wanted her to run, wanted to catch her.

Which only forced her to acknowledge that she wanted to be caught.

Caught. Kissed. Touched.

And it was all so damn crazy. She didn’t do one-night stands with men under normal circumstances, let alone with one who was casually eyeing the chain she dragged along the floor like it was part of the trap he couldn’t wait to spring.

“I am not some sex slave.”

When he took a step toward her, she wished she hadn’t said a damn thing.

“You’re right about that,” he drawled innocently, and she scrambled back another step, realizing too late he was herding her toward his bedroom.

“Slaves,” he continued, “need to be coerced in the beginning. You want it. Want me.”

A hint of uncertainty echoed beneath all that slick feline arrogance, surprising her. Distracting her. Otherwise she might have noticed how quickly he closed the distance between them, forcing her to tip her head back to meet his gaze. He towered over her five-foot-four frame, but she didn’t find it as intimidating as she should have given the magic-nulling handcuff locked around her wrist.

Everything about the situation left her at a disadvantage, but she refused to play the submissive female.

He stared at her throat before finally lifting his hand and tracing the soft hollow, then moving on to her collarbone. The teasing brush of his thumb was at odds with the tension she felt radiating from him.

“You didn’t deny that you want me.” His hands slid beneath her jacket and over her shoulders.

“And give you a reason to prove I was lying?”

He laughed, and the rough sound washed over her. A little dazed by his smile, she was slow to process her jacket sliding down to her arms.

Her eyes snapped open—when the hell had she closed them?—and she stumbled back. He might have been too distracted when she’d been in the shower to realize how few tracings she had, but risking it a second time was a really bad idea. It wouldn’t take him long to realize the cuff would null any ability to mask her tracings.

A tug on her wrist pulled her forward. She immediately retreated, stepping inside the dark bedroom at her back.

Could he see well enough to notice her tracings—or lack thereof—in the dark?

He stopped in the doorway, the light behind him casting his face in shadows. Maybe she’d been a little premature with the whole not-intimidated thing. She managed another step, and he countered with another tug on the chain until she was forced to meet him halfway.

“Cian.”

He stopped, only a foot away now. “Again.” He stepped forward, and her thighs connected with his.

“I don’t—”

“My name. Say it again.”

Her lips parted soundlessly.

“Please.”

Inches separated them. “Cian.”

His palm caressed her jaw, guiding her closer. “Again,” he murmured.

“Ci—”

He slanted his mouth across hers.

The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1

Ever since the original Medusa ticked off Athena by bragging about her beauty, her cursed daughters have been paying for that mistake. To this day, successive Medusas play cat and mouse with the descendants of Perseus, known as the Harvesters.

When Kallan Tassos tracks down the current Medusa, he expects to find a monster. Instead he finds a wary, beautiful woman, shielded by a complicated web of spells that foils his plans for a quick kill and retrieval of her protective amulet.

Andrea Rosakis expects the handsome Harvester to go for the kill. Instead, his attempt to take the amulet imprinted on her skin without harming her takes her completely by surprise. And ends with the two of them in a magical bind—together.

Though their attraction is combustible, her impending PMS (Pre Magical-Curse Syndrome) puts a real damper on any chance of a relationship. But Kallan isn’t the only Harvester tracking Andi, and they must cooperate to stay at least one step ahead of a ruthless killer before they can have any future, together or apart.

Warning: A hunter who’s fallen for the woman he’s bound to kill, a Medusa who must trust him with her life, and a magical curse only love can break.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Hunting Medusa:

“Time for bed.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Kallan gave her a bland smile. “Time for bed.” He guided her out of the bathroom and steered her into the next doorway, flipping on the light as they went. Her bedroom.

The bed loomed large in the middle of the space, reminding him uncomfortably of being pressed up against her back in the dark kitchen.

She balked, then stumbled when he gave her arm a gentle yank. “I am not sleeping with you.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall asking you.” He pushed her toward the bed.

She tried to dig her feet in, but she didn’t get any traction with her boots on the hardwood and skidded into his side.

He nudged her onto the edge of the bed. “Boots.”

She stared up at him, appalled, for a long moment. “You are insane.”

One of his eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“You really don’t have a choice, Medusa.” He sat down and caught one of her knees, lifting her leg to untie the shoe and push it off.

She struggled against him, making him grunt when she elbowed one of the slash marks on his arm.

He wrestled her other shoe off and then dragged her onto the bed before stretching out beside her.

She sat up, tugging on her arm. She could go nowhere so it was a futile effort.

Kallan smiled at her. “It’s been a long night. Lie down.”

“I’ll kill you.”

He laughed. She never stopped. “I think that’s my job, my Medusa.”

“I’m not your Medusa. I’m not your anything. My name is Andi.”

He put his free hand behind his head and studied her for a long moment. “Andrea Rosakis. I know your name.”

“How did you find me?”

“I don’t think we’ll discuss that. But I suppose I should inquire as to whether there are any weapons in your nightstand I need to worry about tonight.”

Her look of disbelief made him sit up. He crawled over her, then straddled her and tried not to think about the position while he used his free hand to pull open the drawer. A flashlight, hefty enough to bash him in the head. He tossed it away so it clattered across the floor and landed near the closet. A tattered book. He flipped it over to look at the cover. A romance novel—the half-naked hero on the cover ravishing the slightly more dressed woman in his arms. The worst she could do with that was give him some paper cuts. Or another painful erection.

Kallan cleared his throat and dropped the book back into the drawer, where there were still some scattered papers, a pen—which he threw in the direction of the flashlight—a black satin sleep mask, and way in the back… He closed his fingers around something more substantial than the pen.

A vibrator, he discovered when he pulled it out of the drawer.

He shot her a quizzical glance and found her face averted, but not enough that he couldn’t see the hot color staining her cheeks. He glanced back at the toy, imagining her using it despite his best intentions. He could understand a woman like the Medusa having the same needs as other women. But why wouldn’t she indulge them with a flesh and blood man? She only suffered the effects of the curse for a few days each month. He flipped the tiny switch on the bottom of the vibrator, and the thing hummed to life.

Under him, she stiffened, turning her face further away.

He shut it off and dropped it back into the drawer. “Well, I don’t think I’d consider that a weapon,” he said lightly. He was suddenly aware of how close she was again, her breasts a scant inch from his belly, her thighs pressed tight between his knees. Her scent teased his nose—something with wildflowers and herbs. He sniffed. Basil, maybe. And sandalwood. Something else. He resisted the urge to lean nearer to find out what and climbed off her, ignoring his body’s protest. It had definitely been too long since he’d indulged his own needs if he couldn’t control these urges around the Medusa for even an hour.

“Lie down.”

When she didn’t immediately obey him, he gave her a gentle push until her head hit the pillow. She glared up at him, her cheeks still bright pink.

“You’re going to need your rest. We have work to do tomorrow,” he said.

She averted her gaze.

He had to find out if any of the lore talked about the amulet being embedded in the Medusa’s skin. And if so, why hadn’t he seen it before now? Why had no one mentioned it?

He stretched out beside her once more. “I hope you have something in the refrigerator for breakfast.” He hadn’t planned on spending the night, after all.

“You don’t really think I’m feeding you, do you?” Horror and anger mingled in her tone.

He didn’t look at her, though he really wanted to see her expression. “I have two good hands. I can feed myself. I’m just hoping you have breakfast food here for me to do that with.”

“Unbelievable.”

He grinned, restraining the laugh that tried to work up from his chest. His Medusa was a lot of fun. A lot more fun than anyone he’d encountered in a long, long time.

She huffed and shifted. “Unbelievable,” she repeated, under her breath this time. She inched away from him on the mattress—cautiously, slowly—then lay still for a long moment.

Andi tugged uselessly at her wrist, but his arm didn’t move from his side. “Hey, Harvester.”

The obnoxious grin slid off his face. “Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name.”

He glared at her, then folded his arms over his chest, dragging hers along and forcing her to half roll toward him again.

She yanked away but he put his other hand over her wrist.

“Go to sleep.”

She shot him a disbelieving glance. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to sleeping in handcuffs. Or with all the lights on. And I’m not tired.” That last sounded rather childish, she admitted to herself, but the man had nerve.

He observed her for a long moment, until she wanted to squirm under his scrutiny. Then another slow grin started at one corner of his mouth, gradually curving his full lower lip all the way to the opposite corner. “I bet I can fix that.”

“I don’t think so.” She leaned as far away as her trapped arm allowed.

He moved fast, flipping her on top of him before she realized his intent.

Andi blinked, then felt her heart pound faster. The Harvester had muscles on his muscles.

Not the best time to be noticing that, perhaps.

She watched him warily as he shifted under her, settled her close, then stretched their cuffed wrists away from their sides. She put her free hand on his shoulder and pushed herself up a little. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you tired.” His other hand slid up her spine to the nape of her neck, where his fingers started massaging the tight muscles.

“Stop it.” She shifted her head to one side, then the other, but his strong fingers continued exactly what they’d been doing. She frowned down at him.

He smiled innocently.

“That doesn’t work for me.” It did feel good, though. Not that she’d tell him.

Kallan’s bright gaze slid down from her eyes to her mouth, almost like an actual touch on her lips.

She swallowed. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late,” he murmured, using his grip at her nape to bring her closer.

Andi sucked in a startled breath when he brushed his mouth along hers. “You’re sick.”

It was his turn to blink. “What?”

“You’re here to kill me, right?”

His brows dipped into a frown.

“You’re not supposed to be…screwing me too.” She blushed.

His frown disappeared. “I’m not trying to screw you. Just kiss you, Andrea.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“Well, that makes it much easier,” he said softly, lifting his head to catch her lips.

His kiss wasn’t what she’d expected. Not that she’d been imagining it. Not really. His lips were warm and soft on hers, not demanding or ruthless—although she was certain he possessed both qualities, and probably far worse, knowing his gene pool. His kiss was more an exploration. A gentle caress.

And for a moment, she decided, she could enjoy it. It had been a very long time since a man had kissed her.

The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 3

Maddy Niteclif’s world has changed so radically she’s no longer sure she recognizes the face staring back at her in the mirror. Pale skin, wide eyes, new scars, and even newer wounds. They’ll heal. It’s the invisible wounds—the ones that disfigure the soul—that pose the most danger.

Hell’s higher thinkers have organized. They’re seeping into the paranormal world, bypassing easy targets as they run larger prey to ground. Maddy is caught in a mad scramble to identify the next target before the demons find the individual. But when the demons’ mark is someone from under her roof, she finds just how far she’ll go to protect those who belong to her.

Maddy is about to learn the most difficult lesson yet: loving someone, seeing his scars ripped open and watching as he’s driven to his knees…it hurts. To save his life means she’ll have to sacrifice the only other man she’s ever loved. There’s only one guaranteed way to ensure both men survive, but it will require the ultimate sacrifice.

Warning: Author shall be held blameless for the following: advanced education in creative cursing, carnal desire for characters who may—or may not—be real, the breaking of one or both eyebrows upon reading explicit m/f sex scenes, and the straining of abdominal muscles from laughing, gasping, and/or holding of breath.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Vengeance:

I awoke again sometime near noon if I judged by the light alone. I was still cocooned in Hellion’s embrace though the man himself was wide-awake. Stock reports were flashing across the TV at the foot of the bed, the volume so low I didn’t know how he could hear anything until I realized he had an earpiece in that allowed him to listen without disturbing me. I had just glanced up at him when something caused him to stiffen, his eyes widening and his breath seeming to hang up in his throat.

I turned slowly toward the screen, but what I saw made no sense. Rocks were strewn everywhere and the ground was torn up as if something violent had occurred. The sound of the reporter’s voice filled the room as Hellion disengaged his earpiece.

“…initially believed it was force of nature, now experts are relatively certain the stones were leveled by something. There are marks, Sylvia, indicating the stones were physically pushed over. As implausible as it would seem, experts are confident it was no natural occurrence that destroyed this stone circle.” My stomach crashed. “Experts will agree that there seem to be two stones in particular that suffered the most damage: the altar stone was split in half, and the primary stone is in several pieces scattered all over the area.”

I didn’t hear what else the reporter said because a low buzzing filled my ears. I recognized the stone circle. It was mine.

Scenes of incomprehensible destruction flashed across the screen as I watched with growing horror. Gouged rocks were scattered around the field, some torn up from the ground and others pushed over; the alter stone was split and lay in two unequal halves on the ruined ground. But most shocking was the demolition of the point stone, or the stone that indicated true north. It was in pieces, broken as if it had been no more than a piece of chalk. A sickening sense of dread built as I watched the cameraman pan the area where the stone circle once stood. With the point stone gone and a couple others cracked, it appeared the most I could hope for was a reconstruction that included four stones. The circle had to have five in order to function as a place of protection and power. Without that fifth stone, the henge became just another ruin.

I turned to Hellion and found his face as pale as my own. “What does this mean for me?”

He shook his head slowly and turned the volume down. I watched as he programmed the digital recorder so we’d have the luxury to watch this later and consider the news reports and mundane speculations.

Reaching out, I grasped Hellion’s hand and we clung to each other, though I didn’t completely understand his reaction. It felt like I should, though, so I didn’t ask again for fear of appearing foolish and, well, just out of fear.

Hellion peeled my fingers off his and reached over to grab the empty water glass he’d fetched me earlier. He walked into the bathroom and emerged a brief moment later, the glass refreshed. Hands that could heal, love and destroy trembled violently.

I hated conversations that started with such bad news that I needed to either compose myself or throw up. The whites of my eyes must have shown clearly as he sat on the edge of the bed, set the water on the nightstand, and took my hands in his. There was something strange, suspiciously familiar to sympathy, in his eyes.

Sighing, Hellion said, “Mo chroí, I’m not exactly sure how to break this to you.”

“Probably best just to get it over with,” I croaked, my voice still a little raspy. The way his hands shook made me more nervous than his silence. “Yeah, get it over with.”

Nodding, he started to explain, and with every word out of his mouth, a horrid realization settled over me. “The stone henge where your Evolution triggered was called Pickledean, Maddy. When your Evolution occurred, you were bonded to that henge as the Niteclif, and it became an entry and exit point for you.” He took a deep, shaky breath as if fortifying himself to go on. “The best the Council could tell, we knew you’d enter through a stone circle in Wiltshire around Midsummer’s Eve and you’d serve your ten years… Oh, Maddy.” His voice broke and he buried his face in his hands. “I’ll kill him for this.”

He shot off the bed, startling me, and began to pace the perimeter of the room. He finally came to a halt at the end of the bed. Staring at me, he crawled up the mattress and gathered me in his arms again. “Maddy, just as you needed that circle to enter your Evolution, you needed it to get out of the evolutionary cycle and trigger the end of your service.” He waited.

…to get out of the evolutionary cycle… Understanding was gradual, like the rise of the moon from the dark horizon.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head slowly. “No, Hellion. I won’t survive this, not indefinitely.”

“You will,” he growled. “By the gods, Maddy, you will survive this.”

I sat in his arms, numb. Bahlin had delivered his vengeance against me in the most effective manner possible. Now there would be no getting out of this cycle, there would be no end for me other than death because… Oh hell. “Hellion?”

“Say what you want done, Maddy, and I’ll see it carried out even if it means raining hell down on him myself.”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just, if I don’t age while I’m the Niteclif, and now I can’t get out of being the Niteclif, am I immortal?” The man beside me grew so still I wondered if he’d willed himself away. “Hellion?”

Moving in exaggerated slow motion, Hellion took my hand up and kissed my knuckles before setting the hand down and laying his cheek on my hair.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I was strangely calm about this. “If I’m immortal, the only way for me to get out of the Niteclif role is to truly die, right?”

“Don’t speak that way, mo duine dorcha. We’ll find a way out—”

“No, we won’t.” Without understanding the calm conviction I felt, I knew with absolute certainty that there would be no working around my family history. My opportunity for any type of graceful, self-powered exodus was terminated, and I was faced with living this life of violence forever or finding an out through death. Closing my eyes, I shook my head. Bahlin had secured the last word.

Squeezing me tightly, Hellion asked, “Are you all right, Maddy? Please, say something.”

“I’m surprisingly okay. In the grand scheme of things, this isn’t as disorienting as half the shit that’s happened to me so far.” What I didn’t add was that it was irrelevant whether I was immortal or not since I had never believed I’d live to see the end of my term of service as the Niteclif. It had meant little to me until recently.

“I’ll see you avenged,” Hellion whispered into my hair, his hot breath sending shivers down my still bare spine.

“Avenged for what? Having my life extended indefinitely? Having the amount of time I can potentially spend with you lengthened ten-fold? Or would it be for—”

“Fine. Jest if you will, but this isn’t done between him and me, Madeleine. This isn’t nearly done.”

Hellion trembled with rage and began to move away when I whipped a hand out and grabbed his forearm. “Uh-uh. You’re not walking away from this. You promised to cut that crap out, remember? And it is done, Hellion.” I yanked on him until he spun to face me. “I lost Bahlin once when I only thought he was dead, and I survived it. I don’t think I’d survive your death, imagined or real. And if you two ever truly go up against each other, one of you will die. I’m not so naïve as to misunderstand that. So this ends, here and now.”

“I’ll tell you now that I don’t take to having what I will or won’t do spelled out for me as if I was daft, Madeleine,” he ground out between clenched teeth and a ticking jaw.

“Minutes ago you were begging me to tell you what I wanted and you’d do it. This is what I want.”

Lips thinned to a vicious slash across his face and black irises swallowed the whites all over again, a faint wind blew his hair about his head and shoulders, but I didn’t falter. He could be as scary as he wanted to be. I’d stick to this like gum to hot pavement. He could try to peel me off, and I’d even go so far as to wish him luck with it.

“Bloody hell, woman, why don’t I get you the emasculating sheers? Then you can just take care of it all in one fell swoop?” he bitched.

I bit my lower lip in an effort to hide the smile that threatened to break free.

He sighed and slid down to curl up next to me, laying his head in my lap.

My hand automatically went to his hair and I began running my fingers through the burnished gold. “Fine. Go get them.”

He sighed. “Figure of speech, love. Keep those things away from me.” And whether a conscious thought or subconscious reaction, he casually dropped a hand across his groin. This time there was no hiding my smile or the laughter that followed.

Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 4

Enslaved by a vengeful goddess, forced to live on blood, Lucan can barely remember life as a knight of the Round Table. Yet when one woman’s touch awakens millennium-old feelings that tame the savage darkness within him, he has no choice but to deny their all-consuming passion—for her own protection.

Cat shifter Briana Callaghan has watched all three of her brothers find their mates, but love isn’t in her future. Especially when her mate turns out to be a lethal mercenary…and the only man ever to break her heart.

When she’s chosen to compete in the Gauntlet, an immortal death match, Briana realizes the prize—the sword Excalibur—is her only hope of severing the fierce bond that has the power to destroy her.

Stunned to find themselves pitted against each other, Briana and Lucan quickly find that the only thing they’re fighting harder than their enemies is their sizzling, heartbreaking chemistry. But even if they survive the Gauntlet, claiming the woman he loves will be as impossible as letting her go.

Warning: Contains adult language, skin-tingling sexual tension over a thousand years in the making, and a brutal warrior unable to resist the only woman to appeal to both the man and the monster within.

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

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Primal Temptation

Copyright © 2013 by Sydney Somers

ISBN: 978-1-61922-006-5

Edited by Lindsey Faber

Cover by Kanaxa

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: November 2013

www.samhainpublishing.com

Content

Primal Temptation
Pendragon Gargoyles 4
by
Sydney Somers

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

About the Author

Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3

The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1

The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 3

Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 4