Master of Swords (11 page)

His apprentice threw them a look of such helpless, worried frustration, Lark found herself feeling for him. He strode after his mentor. “Hey, dude, wait up.”

Antonio and Diera rose to their feet. “We'd better follow them. I fear what he'll do in this mood.”

They, too, hurried after the two men.

Feeling helpless, Lark watched them all go. Her instinct was to follow them, but she knew she didn't dare leave Gawain.

“Well, that was about as pleasant as gutting a man with a dull spoon,” she muttered. “And it didn't tell me a damn thing that would help find Edge.”

 

The sun was
up when Lark picked up her enchanted cell and made the call she'd been craving.

She needed to talk to her grandfather. Needed his wisdom, his common sense, but most of all, she needed to remember there was at least one thing she'd done right.

He answered the phone on the first ring. He was probably carrying his own cell around in his pocket. “Lark? Hi, baby! How's it going?”

Her throat thickened at the sound of his dear, familiar voice. “It's been a rough night, Grandpa.”

Quickly, she filled him in on the fight with Edge and her conversation with Bors. “I spent the rest of the night searching Kel's library for a good locator spell, but nothing I tried worked. I have no idea where Edge is. But I'm pretty sure he's either killing somebody or planning to kill somebody. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Sounds like you've done everything you can do, honey. Besides, by now your friend Diera's probably got all the other Majae working on it. They'll find him.”

Lark sighed, feeling tired and defeated. “God, I hope so.”

He paused. “So they paired you up with Lord Gawain, huh? How's that going?” His attempt at a casual tone failed completely.

“Granddad, if you're hoping for a budding romance, don't. Tristan says Gawain's a great guy, but he goes through Majae like you go through your sock drawer.”

“Hey, you're not just any Maja, kid. And you're sure not anybody's sock. Unless Gawain's a dummy—and he couldn't be if the stories I've heard are true—he's going to realize that. Don't sell yourself short.”

“I won't.”

“Good. Hey, it's nine o'clock in the morning, which makes it—what? Almost noon there. Shouldn't you be in bed? Sounds like you're going to need your sleep.”

“You're probably right.” Judging, at least, from the gritty condition of her eyes. “Hey, you have fun today, you hear? Go find yourself some more poker victims to fleece, you card shark. I love you.”

“I love you, too. 'Bye, honey.”

Gently, she turned off her cell and tucked it away.

Feeling battered, Lark walked back into Gawain's bedroom and closed the door. With the windows heavily shielded against daylight, it was dark as a coal shaft. She conjured a dim light and made her way toward the bed.

She paused at its massive footboard and studied Gawain's sleeping form. Wide as the mattress was, he seemed to take up most of it as he sprawled there in all his tanned, muscular glory. His color was better than it had been after last night's battle, and the lines of exhaustion had smoothed. His blond hair was disordered in sleep, tousled over his forehead, giving him a deceptively boyish look. Kel lay on his right side, tiny head still resting on his arm.

She looked at him a long moment, admiring his raw masculine beauty. Then, taking a deep breath, she climbed into bed next to his big, warm body and curled up against his side.

After a moment, she lay her head on his chest and listened to the slow, comforting beat of his heart. A smile spreading across her face, she fell asleep.

 

A low, masculine
growl jolted Lark awake as a heavy male body rolled on top of her like a hot blanket. Lark jerked, her heart leaping into her throat as powerful arms slid around her from behind. For a moment she froze in panic, remembering Fangface's attack. Magic roared through her, filling her hands with force. The instant before she blasted her attacker through the nearest wall, she heard Gawain's deep groan. “Lark…”

Swearing, she banished the spell she'd been gathering. “Gawain, dammit, I almost fried you!”

“Shush.” He pressed his mouth to her pulse and inhaled, breathing her scent. His cock hardened against her in a breathtaking rush. “You smell so good.” A big hand came to rest on her breast, carefully cupped and squeezed. Her nipple hardened against his palm.

Her sense of humor surfaced. “And good morning to you, too.”

“I need you, Lark.” His voice was low, hoarse—and unmistakably pleading. “Please.”

She frowned, thinking he sounded a little out of it. Belatedly, she remembered Kel had told her he'd had to drain Gawain's magical reserves dangerously low.
Just let him have a pint or two from that lovely throat, and he'll be right as rain.

“Lark? Do you want me to go?”

“No.” She turned her head and met his mouth with her own. “God, no.”

He groaned in relief and kissed her, his tongue delving deep as his fingers plucked and teased her tight nipples. His mouth wasn't quite as sweet as usual, but then, she knew her own wasn't either. A quick spell took care of that, and she pressed closer.

He kissed better than any man she'd ever met, slow and seductive even as hungry as he was.

At last he pulled away from her lips and transferred his ravenous attention to the breast he'd been toying with. Lark shuttered her eyes in pleasure as his tongue swirled and his lips suckled.

Then, abruptly, he caught her shoulders and rolled her over onto her belly.

“Gawain?” She licked dry lips.

He only growled as he slid a knee between hers. A second knee joined it, and he spread her thighs wide. His hands slid up, cupping both breasts to tease her aching nipples again. Lark caught her breath as pleasure began to roll through her, slow and rich as a wave of heated honey.

She squirmed. His thick cock rested against her butt like a seductive threat. Lark panted as her arousal spiraled at the sensation. “God, I want you.”

“Good.” Gawain nuzzled her ear, then caught the lobe between his teeth for a gentle bite. It felt so delicious, she angled her head over, letting him nibble as he pleased. With a rumble of approval, he traced his tongue down over her throat, licking at her banging pulse.

His right hand was just as busy, stroking and tugging one nipple into sweet little jolts of delight.

His left hand slid down her body, finding the juncture of her thighs. Lark caught her breath as he delved between her vaginal lips and slid one strong finger into her. Pumped. Once, twice, as he tormented her nipple skillfully, magnifying the rough pleasure. “Your breasts are so beautiful,” he rasped. “All of you is so beautiful.”

She rolled her face against the tangled curtain of his hair and grinned. “You have such a way with words.”

As if in retaliation for her quip, the points of his fangs scraped gently across her skin. Lark moaned, loving the sensation. Gawain growled a deliciously predatory reply against her throat.

Suddenly he slid his knees under them both, braced a hand, and raised off her, then drew her into his arms until she was sitting astride his thighs, her back against his chest. With a flash of hunger, she realized the pose made her completely available to anything he wanted to do to her.

Despite the lust she could feel thrumming through his big body, he patiently returned to his stroking, teasing nipples and sex until she found herself hunching against his hand. His cock lay between her labia, not entering, just tantalizing her with its hard, erotic promise. Lark panted, maddened.

She couldn't see a damned thing. All she could do was feel—the heat and muscled contours of his body, the hands that tormented and aroused, the rigid cock that jerked between her thighs.

At the same time, he teased her throat in preparation for his bite. Delicate little licks and taunting scrapes of his fangs sent her arousal spiraling. She rolled her hips harder, deliberately forcing his cock against her clit, feeling the first building pulses of her climax.

“You're wet,” he growled in her ear, his fingers making liquid sounds as he stroked her.

“And you're hard,” she panted, wanting all that ravenous hunger inside her.

“Yeah. I'm going to fuck you.”

She gasped at the stark, carnal phrase, the anticipation in his voice, the dark note of triumph. Somehow it all turned her on even more. Then he circled her clit with a forefinger, jerking her need another notch tighter. Lark moaned and rolled back at him, shivering. He made a purring sound in his throat and went on teasing her.

Just when she thought she'd go insane, he pushed her off his lap and onto her belly, then lifted her hips until her backside thrust into the air.

Ready to be mounted.

The round, smooth head of his cock brushed her slick labia. Then, slowly, he began to enter her, working his width inside. Lark groaned at the fierce pleasure and tossed her head back, loving the way he felt.

With a growl, he came down over her, pushing more and more of that big cock deeper and deeper. Until, finally, he was seated to the balls.

To her shock, he reached up under her body, found her wrists, and wrapped one hand around them, shackling them with his long fingers. As she gasped, he reached up with the other hand and swept her hair aside to bare her neck. Readying her for his bite.

“Now,” Gawain breathed. “Now we fuck.”

His hips began to roll against her ass, pushing his big cock in and out with such power, each thrust ground against her clit. He started out slow and almost brutally deep, so much so that she twisted in his grip, instinctively trying to pull away. But though his hold on her wrists didn't hurt, it was also unbreakable. He controlled her halfhearted struggles without effort and went right on with those deep, inexorable thrusts.

“Gawain…” She shuttered her eyes, on the edge of pain from the feel of that big cock probing so deep, yet at the same time teased by the wicked climax hovering just beyond her grip. “Please, it's too much….”

“Not yet.” He leaned down and pressed his open mouth to her pulse, the tips of his fangs resting against the throb, almost biting. They scraped her skin as he whispered, “But it's about to be.”

Lark gasped. She felt overwhelmed, helpless, twisting on the end of that massive cock, surrounded by his powerful arms and big, brawny body, the cool points of his fangs pressing her skin. Arousal shivered through her in a river of heat.

Gawain picked up the pace, grinding his hips a little faster, fucking her a little harder. The pleasure grew, hot and dark, spurring her with wicked little pinpricks of heat. Lark rolled her hips back at him, wanting more. Craving it.

He growled like a hungry cat and bit, sinking his fangs into her throat. She cried out in pleasure-pain, arching. His hips slapped hard against her backside, driving his cock to the hilt.

Then he began to feed in long, hungry swallows. Holding her like this, he couldn't manage long strokes, so he ground his cock in tight circles until it seemed to corkscrew her creamy flesh.

All the while, he fed, drinking from her throat, his fangs burning her skin, that one hand holding her wrists pinned. Helpless, moaning, she could only writhe.

Lark's climax surged out of nowhere like a glowing tsunami, swamping her with blinding pleasure. She cried out as it raced through her body, each ripple of pleasure stronger than the last, jerking against his grinding hips.

He pulled free of her throat and roared, shoving his cock to its full length as he came. Lark screamed in echo, twisting against him like a woman in torment, completely overwhelmed.

And loving every moment of it.

Breathing hard, Gawain
bent over Lark, listening to the galloping thunder of her heart. His own was beating pretty hard, too. She lay limp under him, panting into her pillow. Carefully, he tugged his softened cock from her sex, released her wrists, and rolled over onto his back with a groan.

Her muffled voice emerged from the depths of the pillow. “I think you killed me.”

He lifted his head sharply. “Lights!” As the bedside lamp came on, he examined her in its illumination. She looked sleepy and sated, but he asked anyway. “Did I hurt you?”

She snorted. “I was kidding. I'm just kind of pleasantly sore and wrung out.”

Gawain relaxed. “You need a hot bath. Hey, Kel…”

“What?” the dragon asked from his scabbard.

“Mind filling the tub for us?”

Water began to bubble in the adjoining bathroom.
You're in a good mood,
the dragon observed in their link.
A hell of a lot more chipper than you were last night.

Good sex does that.

Lark lifted her head from the pillow and eyed the sword. “How'd you get there? You were lying next to Gawain.”

“I sheathed him before I woke you,” Gawain explained, rolling over to stretch. “Being in bed with an enchanted sword on a bouncing mattress is a really bad idea.”

“Good point.”

The dragon grinned. “Sharp, too.”

With a groan, she picked up the pillow and slung it in the sword's direction. “No puns that bad this early.”

“Hey!” Kel protested. He caught it with a spell and levitated it threateningly. “If it's a pillow fight you want, wench…”

Before the dragon could hurl the pillow back, Gawain rolled out of bed and snatched her into his arms. “We have other plans, dragon.”

As he headed into the bathroom, the pillow popped him in the back of the head. “Coward.”

He kicked the door closed behind him. Lark laughed and curled a slender arm around his neck. “I could have taken him.”

“He'd have inundated you in so many feathers, you'd have thought you were in a remake of
The Birds
,” Gawain told her, carrying her to the huge bath, full and bubbling like a Jacuzzi thanks to the dragon's magic. Throwing a leg over the marble lip, Gawain added, “He hates to…dammit, Kel!” He jerked his foot out of the water and glowered down into the tub's depths. “It's ice cold!”

Through the door, he heard the dragon's wicked chuckle.

“Laugh it up, gecko!” Gawain called back. “I'm going to line your scabbard with sandpaper.”

Clinging to his neck with one hand, Lark made a hasty gesture with the other. He sensed the buzz of magic. “Look, it's hot now. No violence required.”

Gawain gave her a deliberately toothy grin. “But violence is my best thing.”

“Well,” she drawled. “Not your
best
thing…”

Laughing, he stepped into the tub to find it the perfect temperature. He put her on her feet and settled down with her into the foaming water.

Lark groaned in pleasure as she sank to her shoulders and leaned back against the tub's smooth wall. “Oh, man, you were right. I needed this.”

“Yeah,” Gawain agreed, settling back. “You can get clean with magic, but there's nothing like a good soak.” Eyeing the nipples peeking over the bubbling water, he grinned. “Plus, you can't beat the view.”

 

Cuddling Lark in
the tub, Gawain listened as she described breaking the news to Bors and her subsequent efforts to find Edge.

“I tried a dozen spells,” she finished, “but none of them worked.”

“Don't worry about it,” he told her. “By now, Arthur has Morgana, Guinevere, and another dozen witches looking for him. Somebody'll turn him up.”

“I hope so. We need to find the son of a bitch.” She sat up and conjured a bottle of shampoo.

“I agree with you, but when it comes right down to it, he's no match for the Magekind. Now that he's on the radar, it's not going to take us long to get rid of him.” Gawain reached for the bottle. “Let me do that.”

She handed it over, a frown on her pretty face. “I feel sorry for Bors, though. He looked so haunted.”

“This has been his worst fear for years.” Gawain poured a thick dollop of shampoo into his palm. “For one thing, he saw what Arthur went through when Modred led that rebellion against him. Arthur ended up killing his son, and it almost destroyed him. I thought he and Guinevere would never have another child…. Wet your hair and scoot over here so I can shampoo you.”

Lark obeyed and rested her shoulders against him. “Arthur and Guinevere have a child?”

“Yes, he's thirty or so. Unlike Edge, though, the Majae's Council has cleared him to become a Magus, but his mortal career is going well and he doesn't want to give it up. Nobody's pushed the point.”

Lark titled her head back as he started rubbing the shampoo into her hair. “Considering our manpower problems and the Sorcerers' War, I'm surprised they haven't just drafted the poor guy.”

“I don't think Arthur wants to go there. And who can blame him? Though I suspect if somebody told Logan the situation, he might just volunteer.”

The lather felt cool as it foamed over his hands, and he stroked it through her long, dark mane, enjoying the silken feel of the strands.

“That feels good,” she told him with a sigh as she relaxed against him.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Your hair is beautiful—so thick and soft.”

She turned her head against his shoulder and opened one eye to look up at him. “Why, Gawain, that sounded suspiciously like a compliment.”

“Hey, I've complimented you before.”

“‘I love your tits' doesn't exactly qualify, especially when you're sucking on them at the time.”

“But I do.” He reached across and cupped one in soapy fingers. “They're perfect. Just full enough, with such deliciously sensitive nipples. I also love your waist and your long legs and those big, dark eyes.” She was watching him, a wry quirk to her lips, as if she didn't believe him. “And I especially love that mouth.” He lowered his head and kissed her, slowly, taking his time, savoring the taste of her, chasing her tongue with his.

She relaxed into him with a sigh, and he curled his soapy arms around her. He was struck again by how delicate she was, how fragile. The top of her head didn't even come up to his shoulders.

An image flashed through his mind: looking down into her pale face after Kel had removed her helm the night before. The blood matting her hair, the horrific head injury. His arms tightened convulsively. “Why did you step between Edge and me? He could have killed you.”

“What?” She shook her head and frowned as if confused by the sudden shift of topic. “Whoa. Psychic whiplash. Where did that come from?”

He closed his eyes and rested his face against hers. “You scared me last night. You took a very big risk, and it almost killed you.”

Eyes narrowed, Lark turned to look at him. “Edge was about to take your head, Gawain. What the heck was I supposed to do?”

He drew back and pushed a lock of hair back from her face. “To start with, let me take care of myself. I'm the one with the enchanted sword, remember?”

She quirked a brow at him. “And I'm the Maja—remember? It's my job to fight bad guys, too. And despite occasional panic attacks, I don't turn my back on my duty.”

“I realize that, and I respect it. But Edge is even more dangerous than the other sorcerers we've encountered. And considering what happened to you during the attack on Avalon…” He broke off at the anger kindling in her eyes. It belatedly dawned on him that he was treading on dangerous ground.

“Yes, I got hurt. Yes, I almost died. And yes, I've been struggling with the consequences of that. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stand around twiddling my thumbs while my partner gets killed.” She rose from the tub in a cascade of water, all wet, gleaming curves and snapping eyes. “And I am your partner. It's my duty to protect you, too, and I'm going to do my duty whether you like it or not.”

With a splash and a thump of bare feet, she stepped out of the tub and stalked from the bathroom, wrapped in a cloak of icy dignity he could almost see.

Hastily, Gawain climbed out and followed her into the bedroom. “Courage and duty aren't the point, Lark. You need to be realistic. I'm bigger than you are, I'm stronger than you are, and Kel's magic is far more powerful than yours.”

“Oh,” Kel moaned from the headboard, “you are such a dumb ass.”

Gawain ignored him. “We could have handled Edge without you putting your life in danger. I—”

“But thank you for making the effort on our behalf,” Kel interrupted loudly. “I really appreciate it. Life as a paperweight does not appeal to me.”

“You're welcome, Kel,” Lark told him, staring at Gawain with narrowed eyes. “But I think you should know, I'm getting ready to turn your partner into a frog.”

“Go ahead. It'd do him good to sit on a lily pad for a couple of days and think about what an asshole he is.”

Gawain met Lark's stare with one just as hot. “If not wanting to see Lark get killed makes me an asshole, that's fine with me. Look, I've fought these guys before, and I know what I'm talking about. Edge isn't just another sorcerer. He—”

“I thought you said he'd be easy pickings now that we know about him.”

“Against the combined weight of the Magekind, no, he doesn't have a prayer. But against you, one-on-one…that wouldn't end well.”

With a jerk of her hands, Lark clothed herself in jeans and a shirt. She was completely dry, even her hair falling in perfect dark waves. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Frustrated, he glowered at her. “You're not an idiot. This is not news to you. You know the situation as well as I do.”

“And thank you for grinding my face in it!” She stalked out, slamming the door.

“When she turns you into a frog, don't come croaking to me,” Kel said as Gawain lunged for the door.

But when he tried to open it, the knob wouldn't turn. He whirled on his partner with a snarl. “Open it, or I'm kicking it down!”

“Not if I put a shield around it. You two need a minute to cool off, Gawain. You might want to actually
think
…”

“Open. The. Door.”

“…or you could just run in there and pour gasoline on the forest fire you've managed to start until you both say a lot of shit you don't mean.”

Gawain spun and lifted a foot, ready to send the door crashing open….

He stopped in mid-motion. Kel, as usual, was right. He lowered his foot and turned, his shoulders slumping. “Have I ever told you you're a high-handed pain in the ass?”

“Three to four times a week, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, you're hearing it again.” With a sigh, Gawain moved to sit down on the bed. A drop fell off his nose, and he belatedly realized he was still naked and dripping wet.

Magic tingled over his skin as Kel read his mind. An instant later, he was warm and dry and dressed in a green knit shirt and chinos. Reaching over, he picked up the scabbard and slung it over one shoulder. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” He felt the dragon's wings brush the back of his neck as his friend settled himself. “Actually, I'm rather encouraged by all this drama.”

Gawain twisted his head to eye him. “Oh?”

“You cared enough to actually argue with her. If you hadn't, you'd just order her not to interfere in your next fight. Then you'd give her ice-cold arrogance until she caved from sheer intimidation.”

Gawain frowned. “Am I that big an asshole?”

The dragon tilted his head, considering the question. “It's not really being an asshole, it's more the way a military leader deals with a subordinate. But you've stopped treating her like a subordinate.”

“But she is. Technically.”

“Technically. But there's a lot more going on between you than that.”

Restless, Gawain rose and moved toward the window to stare out at the moonlit streets of Avalon. “Maybe that's where I'm making the mistake. I don't want her putting herself in danger for me.”

“Gawain, she'd do that whether you two were sleeping together or not. She knows her duty as well as you do. What's more, if she were another knight, it wouldn't even occur to you to ask her to stay out of a fight. Hell, if she were Morgana, it wouldn't occur to you.”

Gawain snorted. “That's because Morgana would barbecue my balls like pulled pork. Besides, Morgana has a lot more power than Lark.”

“Not that much more. Lark just hasn't learned how to bring it all to bear yet.” The dragon flicked his silver wings, his expression brooding. “But somehow I have the feeling that she's going to have to figure it out. And soon.”

 

Lark stomped down
the stairs toward the kitchen. She almost wished Gawain would come roaring out of his room so they could have all this out once and for all. Unfortunately, judging by what she'd heard through the door, Kel had basically locked him in to give them both time to cool off.

Which might have been wise, but wasn't as satisfying as a good screaming fight.

She stalked into the kitchen and headed to the refrigerator. This situation definitely called for a plate of scrambled eggs. She needed protein if she was going to continue having frequent sex with Gawain.

Of course, the real question was whether it was just sex or something more. She was pretty damn sure it was becoming more from her end, but she wasn't so sure about Gawain's.

Considered from that angle, his humiliating little lecture was actually encouraging. He cared enough to be afraid for her. Which was nice, except she wasn't sure it meant anything. Chivalry was programmed into the man's DNA; of course he'd want the helpless little female to hang back out of the fight.