Primal Pleasure: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3 Read online

  Believed that it didn’t have anything to do with her sister and everything to do with what was between them. And it wouldn’t have been half as terrifying if, for a moment, he hadn’t wanted his feelings for her to be real and not based on a spell.

  He brushed a stray curl behind her ear the way he’d witnessed her do a hundred times. He’d lied to her in the forest. He wanted more from her than sex. He wanted to know more about her, like how she’d learned to count cards, or what had possessed her to stop and help a woman on crutches when she’d been hell bent on getting away from him.

  He wanted to know why she really favored her leather jacket when the scar he’d felt on her back wasn’t big enough to be disfiguring in any way, and why she would risk her life by sharing the existence of immortals and Avalon with a human.

  Most of all he wanted to know how a sorceress could snatch away a hundred years of his life so thoughtlessly, but be so fiercely protective of her family. The female was a walking contradiction, and the more time he spent with her, the more he wondered if there could be any truth to what she’d said.

  “Would you believe me if I said it was all just one big misunderstanding?”

  Emma’s lashes fluttered finally, and she nestled closer to him with a sleepy sigh.

  “Hi.”

  Her eyes snapped open, and she rocked to a sitting position, bumping her head against his chin. “Sorry.” She looked him over carefully, her gaze lingering on his neck as she ran her finger over his healed skin. “You’re okay.”

  He didn’t think she was looking for confirmation, but he nodded anyway. A smile exploded across her face, and she launched herself in his arms, her grip almost strangling him.

  “Missed me, did you?”

  He regretted speaking at all when she released him, ducking her head in that self-conscious way that made her seem so vulnerable. He caught her around the waist before she could squirm out of reach altogether.

  “What? Did you suddenly remember you like me better as a rock?”

  She shook her head, her gaze darting to his mouth before she looked everywhere in the cavern but at him. “We should look for a way out.”

  “We should,” he agreed. “And we will.” Just not yet.

  He coaxed her a little closer, and slid his mouth over hers. She took her time parting her lips, as though she hadn’t quite made up her mind to kiss him back. He didn’t push, though, just savored the whisper of his mouth against hers until she locked her arms around his neck and took over.

  Finding a way out of the catacombs suddenly seemed like an impossible task when he was lucky to remember his own name. Emma shifted in his lap and between one slow roll of her hips and the next, he was harder than the cavern walls. The next time she arched against him, he knew it was deliberate.

  It also matched the teasing strokes of her tongue against his. Slow, lazy, teasing strokes that made him catch her hips and hold her still. Much more and they’d be finishing what they’d started in the woods. As much as he wanted that, he wanted her safe more, and they wouldn’t be safe as long as they were lost in the catacombs.

  Unable to stop instantly, he softened the kiss, drawing it out.

  She finally drew back. “God, you’re good at that.”

  He couldn’t help but lean forward to catch her bottom lip one more time. “At distracting you?”

  “There’s distracting and there’s making a girl completely lose her head.”

  It took him a minute to understand her meaning. “And that’s bad?”

  Sliding out of his lap, she stood and wandered toward the vines draping the cavern walls, muttering something that sounded a lot like, “Better my head than my heart.”

  She motioned to the pants she’d been using as a pillow, and he pulled them on while she wandered closer to one of the tunnels leading who knew where. “So, should we go with door number one?”

  “Glamour?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said door. Do you see through some kind of glamour, like you did with that Fae?”

  “No door. It’s just an expression. Catch up on your game shows and you’ll get it.”

  “Game shows? Oh, like Survivor.” Although he still hadn’t figured out why the humans found it so challenging to live on an island when they spent most of their time sleeping or betraying one another.

  She laughed. “Not quite.” She cocked her head, considering their options. “You’re the one with superior senses. What do you think?”

  “That we need a map.” The tunnels all looked the same to him—vine-covered and twisting off around bends that made it impossible to guess what they’d be walking into.

  “We’ll have to make do without unless there’s one stuffed in the pants you’re wearing.”

  There was definitely something stuffed in his pants, and if he didn’t stop watching the strap from her bra slide off her shoulder, all the maps in this realm and the next wouldn’t stop him from finding his way up her shirt.

  “How did you see through that Fae’s glamour?”

  She stiffened next to him.

  “I’ve never known a sorceress to be able to do that.”

  “And have you known many sorceresses?” Her brows furrowed as she peeked down each tunnel, and he’d swear she sounded a little annoyed.

  “Enough.”

  “Apparently not or you’d know how I can do it. My mother is Fae.” The expression on her face dared him to make something of it.

  “I didn’t think either race was particularly fond of each other.”

  She shrugged. “My mother must have remembered that after my sister and I were born.”

  “She left you?”

  “My father has always favored the term abandoned.” The moment she said father he could feel the tension radiate from her.

  “You aren’t on favorable terms with him.”

  “I’m his biggest disappointment.” The casual answer couldn’t fully mask the hurt in her voice. “What about your parents? Are you close to them?”

  He nodded. “They went to stone three centuries ago.” He hadn’t been happy at the time, but knew his parents were five hundred years older than him, and eternity could be as dangerous to an immortal as fire or beheading.

  “They chose to sleep at the same time? They must love each other very much.”

  He used to think maybe they’d loved one another too much. The last few weeks had given him a much better understanding of the bond between his parents.

  “Is it because you’re half Fae that you were able to enchant the mirror we used to cross over?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know. I haven’t tried that since I was young.”

  “Why not?”

  “I landed in a place so dark I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know where I was, but I could hear creatures skulking around in the dark. They didn’t come near me, but knowing they were there and that I couldn’t see them was enough. I’m sure they were just as afraid of me as I was of them, but it’s hard to be that objective when you’re a frightened child.”

  “Who found you?”

  “My mother. It was just before she left. It took two days, though, and by then I’d lost my voice from yelling. But that was a long time ago.”

  “For an immortal that can still feel like yesterday,” he reminded her, echoing her words from earlier. “So why this time? You must have been afraid.”

  “I was more afraid of losing—” Her gaze darted away, but he could have sworn she’d been about to say “you”.

  He nodded to the tunnel on the left. “That one.” Standing in front of it, he felt the same spark as when Emma used her magic, and he found the pull of it just as strong.

  They walked in silence, the shadowy tunnel twisting along without any other tunnels branching off it.

  “Why—”

  She wheeled on him. “If we’re about to play twenty questions, I get a turn. How did you catch those arrows at Leah’s loft?”

  “I have no idea.”

>   “So that wasn’t some gargoyle Guard training?”

  He shook his head. “That’s new.” There had been barely enough time to wonder how he’d managed it. He’d felt stronger since Emma had broken the curse, more aware, but the cat was only concerned with tracking its mate, leaving him little time to dwell on it.

  Emma glanced down at her palms. “I know what that’s like.”

  “Because you’re used to being able to use your magic? Is that why you can no longer mask your tracings?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The one at your throat.”

  She gave him that look, the one that questioned whether he should be locked up in an asylum. “I don’t have one there.”

  “You do now. But it’s…different. In between the ivy there are other symbols, like a Fae glyph. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He crouched and drew the spiral in the dirt.

  Her eyes widened. “How?” She glanced again at her palms as if she’d find something written there.

  “You’re the sorceress.”

  If she had an explanation for it, she didn’t volunteer anything, and he was increasingly distracted by the magic that pulsed beneath his skin, like it was alive. They followed the tunnel along until it branched to three. He chose the middle one without opposition from Emma.

  “Something isn’t right,” he said a short while later. “We’ve hit a dead end.”

  “Of course we have.” Emma sank to the ground. “It would have been too much to ask to find a way out without spending a decade or two wandering around.” She let out a breath and closed her eyes.

  Cian sat next to her, and the blossoms on the vines brightened.

  “Whoa.” The glowing light returned to its usual glow, though some blossoms remained bright pink and yellow. “Do you think that was normal?”

  “You’re asking the man who spent five hours trying to figure out how a remote control worked?” He wouldn’t mention the time he contemplated the workings of an electric razor.

  She smiled. “That’s different. This is Avalon. It’s home.” She leaned into him, and he was afraid to move in case it scared her off.

  “It stopped being home the moment Morgana took Camelot.” And if Arthur’s half-sister got her hands on the daggers and Excalibur, all of Avalon would be at her mercy.

  “It must have been hard for you, losing something you had helped to build.”

  “Everyone lost something that day. I was just one among many.”

  She held his gaze. “That doesn’t make your pain any less important.”

  He might have dismissed another’s sympathy, eager to change the subject, but with Emma it felt as though she truly understood. Like she wasn’t just guessing how he’d felt when they’d lost Arthur and then Camelot, but felt the loss that shadowed his heart as if it were her own.

  Catching her chin in his palm, he drew her close, softly covering her mouth with his. There was no explosion of need or urge to mark her, though both hovered just beneath the surface. He kissed her because he wanted to, not because he needed to, and the exquisite pleasure threatened to turn his whole world upside down.

  Emma couldn’t breathe, and as much as she wanted the kiss to last, wanted to feel the heat of his mouth against hers for a lifetime, she was pretty damn sure it was killing her. The way he held her, like something treasured, like she was so much more than something he craved, the harder she fought to keep from giving him any more of her heart.

  And she was going to lose. Maybe she already had.

  Only when she whimpered against his lips did he pull back. His forehead touched hers, and they stayed that way until her pulse began to slow.

  “Do you miss your jacket?”

  “What, you don’t think women in ripped, bloody tank tops are hot?”

  “I don’t wish to see any more of you covered up than necessary.” His smile was wicked to the core. “Maybe not even then.”

  She bumped him with her shoulder.

  “But do you miss it? You seemed awfully fond of it.”

  “When I’m wearing my jacket, people can’t make snap judgments about me based on my tracings.”

  “Ah. You’d rather they underestimate your strength.”

  The predator in him would appreciate that, she supposed, and she was sure that Elena shared a similar mentality. “I’d rather they see me and not the magic.” She leaned back against the wall. It was crazy to think that Cian of all people would get it.

  He frowned. “I used to get into trouble. Often. I’d even foolishly pick fights so others would know I was just as tough as my older brothers. I needed people to respect me because of what I could do, what I stood for, not Cale and Tristan.”

  Maybe the gargoyle understood after all.

  “How old were you when you joined the Guard?”

  “Old enough to wield a sword but still too young to know I didn’t always need it.”

  She cocked her head. “You can shape-shift into a vicious predator and you used a sword?”

  “When the occasion called for it. But it’s the same thing. If any of us learned to rely solely on a weapon or our animal halves, we wouldn’t achieve the peace Camelot stood for.”

  “I wish I could have seen it.”

  “You’ve never walked the wall? Never seen Avalon stretch across the horizon at sunset, or when the moon is full and the sky so clear you can see every star in the heavens?”

  “Not all of us are as old as you.”

  “Exactly how old are you?”

  With a wink she stood and started back the way they’d come. “Guess we try another tunnel.”

  “How old?” he pressed, falling into step beside her.

  “Old enough to know a woman should never answer that question.”

  He scoffed, then slanted a look at her abdomen. “Did that sound just come from your stomach?”

  Her stomach had been rumbling since she’d woken up. “I happen to be starving.” And had been doing a pretty good job of ignoring that fact until he brought it up. Neither of them would die from starvation, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be severely weakened by it.

  Her feet felt blistered and her knees ached before they hit another dead end. “We’re not getting anywhere.”

  Cian looked as frustrated as she felt as they backtracked to try another tunnel. “Some kind of water source must be feeding the vines, and where there’s water, there’s food. We’re not giving up.”

  “I know. I’m just worried about my sister.”

  “If she’s anything like you, she’s probably giving them hell.”

  Undoubtedly. “We’re not that much alike, actually. She’s much bolder and braver than I am.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  She laughed. “If you hear her tell it, I used to be the bossy one, but I think she just tells me that so I wouldn’t dwell on…” She trailed off, following Cian’s gaze, forgetting what she’d been about to say.

  “I don’t remember that, do you?” He pointed to a vine that snaked across the top of a tunnel. A large red blossom with a buttery-yellow center hung in the middle.

  “No.” The longer she studied the crimson petals the more it intrigued her, drawing her closer.

  “This way.” He laced his fingers through hers, leading the way down a tunnel that grew increasingly narrow and sloped downward. Cian tipped his head. “I think I hear water.”

  Just hearing the word made her throat squeeze as though to wring even the slightest moisture from it. The tunnel twisted more sharply, the path growing steeper. The vines that grew along the wall pulsed with color.

  That was either a good thing or they were in a whole world of trouble. She tightened her hold on Cian.

  “Watch your st—”

  Cian dropped in front of her, the ground giving way beneath him, and the fierce grip he had on her hand dragged her right along with him. The tunnel blurred past in bursts of green, pink and yellow, then the ground disappeared beneath them altogether.<
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  Shit.

  She lost her grip on Cian as they dropped straight down. Air whipped across her face and they plunged into the lake below, momentum pushing her down. The water closed over her head, and she kicked hard to reach the surface.

  “Emma!” Cian grabbed her around the waist a moment before she realized her feet just skimmed the sandy bottom. “Are you all right?”

  She dropped her head against his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I don’t melt in water, Dorothy.”

  “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

  She smiled, her lips parting to share the reference, but it slipped away before she could grasp it. Something about Oz?

  He turned them toward the shore.

  Shivering, she got as close to him as she could. “The water is freezing.” Who would have believed an arctic glacier fed the catacombs? She paused. Is that where they were? The catacombs?

  “I can see that.”

  She followed his gaze to where her nipples jutted against her shirt.

  He smoothed her hair away from her face and that intense look in his eyes did crazy things to her stomach. He bent his head and she put a finger to his lips.

  “As much as I’d love to be worked over by your very talented mouth, I’m a little distracted by the thought of what creatures might call this lake home.”

  Glancing around, he frowned. “Where are we?”

  “We’re…” She paused. “I…” Shook her head, wishing the answer would shake loose. She was sure she knew it. Wasn’t she? “How did we get here?”

  He shrugged, rubbing his cheek against hers. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes?” Her eyes drifted shut as his lips grazed hers. “I can’t remember.” The harder she tried to bring the memories into focus, the faster they seemed to slip away from her.

  Taking a step away from him, hoping the distance would offer some clarity, she waded toward shore. On the grass, she sat and pulled off her boots, dumping out the water before wringing out her hair.

  “Don’t go yet.”

  She lifted her head, taken aback by the picture he made standing waist deep in the lake, drops of water sliding down his bare chest. The blossoms blanketing the ceiling at least a couple hundred feet above reflected on the lake’s surface, like something out of a dream.