Love Bites (20 page)

Percival dipped his head in a bow. “No thanks are necessary, ambassador.”

Cador grimaced. “We’re just relieved we were able to pull it off. Huar was a nasty fuck.” He slanted Morgana a look. “Who got what was coming to him.”

Morgana suddenly looked distinctly green, her eyes widening as she covered her mouth with her hand, as if swallowing back bile. “Oh. My. Goddess.” It had apparently just hit her what she’d done to her foe.

“Like Cador said, he had it coming.” Percival slipped an arm around her waist. “If you can return us to Avalon, and these ladies to wherever they belong . . .”

“And we need our armor,” Marrok added. “We left it all back that way.”

“That will, of course, be no problem.” The ambassador gestured, the sweep of his hands sending a swirl of magic through the dark woods. A moment later, the three knights were garbed in their armor and weapons again.

Another gesture created a dimensional gate. “Thank you, ambassador,” Percival said.

As they started toward the portal, Morgana stepped over to her friend, rose to her toes, and pressed a platonic kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Soren. We would have lost without you.”

The ambassador smiled at her. “And I would have died without you.” He stepped back, as though aware of Percival’s jealous tension. “I will not forget you, my dear. Be happy with your knight.”

Her smile was so dazzling, Percival’s jealousy subsided, “I will be.”

With that, the four of them stepped through the gate into Percival’s living room.

“Morgana,” Cador asked, frowning thoughtfully, “the next time you call on your powers, will it be like . . . that?”

“You mean, will it drive me mad?” She shrugged. “No. I drew on too much power because I had to in order to defeat Huar. I lost control of it, but the collar returned me to equilibrium, exactly as I designed it to do. I just have to be damned careful never to do that again.”

“Believe me,” Percival told her grimly, “I’ll make sure of it.”

C
ador looked up at the grandfather clock ticking in the foyer. “Looks like we’ve got an hour and a half until dawn.” He turned to Marrok. “Want to hit the Lord’s Club? I don’t know about you, but I could seriously use a drink.”

“After the night we just had?” The big knight snorted. “I could kill a case of Jack and barely take the edge off.”

Morgana flinched a little, knowing that she was a big part of the reason the night had been so rough. She opened her mouth, about to announce her own intention of going home and going directly to bed, but a big hand landed on her shoulder. She glanced up at Marrok in surprise.

The knight’s handsome mouth curled into a smile. “Remember this, Morgana. You may be his . . .” He jerked his chin toward Percival. “But you’re also ours.”

Cador smiled. “Yeah, you’re one of the team now. Merlin help you.”

Further flustering her, the two knights pressed kisses on her cheek—Cador looked as if he was considering giving her one far more intimate until he caught Percival’s sulfurous glare—then headed out the door.

As their deep, laughing voices receded toward Avalon’s cobblestone streets, Morgana turned toward Percival. “I’d better be getting home myself . . .”

He folded his arms and looked at her calmly. “You
are
home.”

She blinked at him, as the Truebond informed her of the stony determination behind his words.
“There’ll be no more barriers between us, Morgana. Especially not the ones you erect to keep me at a distance.”

Morgana gaped, realizing he didn’t intend that she leave at all. Ever. “But . . . I’ve got that house . . .”

“We can live there.”
She heard the next thought, though he hadn’t intended her to.
But I’d rather live here.
He hated her house.

Morgana sighed. He had a point—it was pretentious as hell. And anyway, what was she trying to prove? To whom? Percival’s home was somehow much warmer. Besides, it came with its own dungeon . . . “I’ll give the house to some young vampire. I’m sure somebody’s looking for a place to live.”

He gave her a slow, warm smile that made cream gather between her legs, rich and wet. “Thank you.”

Morgana slid her arms around his neck. “Now that that’s settled . . . What next?”

He eyed her. She felt the brush of his thoughts against hers. “Considering the way your back’s aching, how about the spa?”

Morgana smiled happily. “You’ve talked me into it.”

*   *   *

F
ive minutes later, they sank naked into pleasantly hot, bubbling water in a spa the size of some swimming pools. Inset in the ground of Percival’s back garden, the spa was an irregular, curving shape that was reminiscent of a natural pool. Flowering plants and bushes, all the blooms in shades of cream and white, heightened the effect, clustering around the spa’s ceramic tiles and filling the air with sweet floral scents. White and cream roses blended with night-blooming jasmine and other pale blooms designed to look their best in moonlight—that being, of course, the only time the vampire owner could view it.

Percival handed her a glass of champagne and drew her down between his powerful thighs. She sighed in pleasure at the heat of the bubbling water and the hard strength of his body. He picked up a tube of massage oil, poured it into his palm, and began slowly working it into the slim muscles of her back. Finding a knotted muscle in the top of her right shoulder that hurt with a gnawing kind of pain, he dug in a strong thumb with a perfect degree of pressure—not too much, not too little.

Oiled hands explored the length of her back, seeking out every painful lump, then working it until it came unknotted.

By the time he was done with her, she sank back against his chest, warm water bubbling around her waist, feeling boneless with relaxation.

As she sighed in pleasure, Percival’s warm, oiled hands came up and around her torso, finding her breasts, cupping their tender weight, teasing their nipples to tight erection. “Mmmmmm,” she purred into his ear. “That feels incredible.”

Still tugging the rosy points, he flashed a wicked grin, his eyes hot and burning with masculine hunger. “Yeah, I know.”

And he did, she realized. Thanks to the Truebond, he shared every pleasure he gave her. His smile lushly sensual, he teased one breast with slow milking strokes as he reached down her body with the other hand, sliding between her legs, finding the plush petals of her sex.

“I always wondered how that felt,” he murmured in her ear.

“And I’ve always wondered how this feels.” Reaching behind her back, she stroked two fingers up the length of his erection, bobbing in the bubbling water. Her eyes flew wide, and she gasped at the starkly powerful pleasure, alien and intense. “OOOoooh. Like that . . .”

“Yeah. Like that.” With a low growl, he caught her shoulders and turned her in his arms. His mouth came down over hers in a kiss that made her head swim like a slug of pure grain alcohol as his lips moved over hers, tongue swirling, thrusting.

Groaning, she kissed him back, losing herself in the hot male intensity of his passion, his need. “Horned God, I love you.”

He drew back and smiled slowly into her eyes. “And I love you. I don’t know why it took me so long to admit it.”

She gave him a small, wry smile. “Probably because I didn’t exactly make it easy on you. Too busy hiding too many secrets—and using sheer bitchiness to do it.”

Percival’s smile turned wicked. “Well,
that’s
sure as hell over.”

“And I’m not going to miss it a bit.” She reached up, traced her fingers over the angular rise of his cheek. “I always knew you’d find a way to save me from myself. And you did.”

“Well, I owed you. You saved us often enough.”

Her smile vanished as she remembered the insane howl of the Mageverse. “I also came far too close to killing you tonight.”

His eyes narrowed and went cool at the reminder. “Yes, you did. And I believe I owe you a punishment for hiding those blackouts and just how close you were to Mageverse Fever.”

“Ah.” Her eyes widened, and she swallowed, deciding that it behooved her to speak formally. Otherwise, he was likely to take a deerskin flogger to her arse again. “I am sorry, Lord Percival. I shouldn’t have done it, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

“You mean you didn’t trust me.” He didn’t smile when he said it, either.

“I . . . No, sir, I suppose I didn’t.” The submission came automatically—and it had nothing to do with the collar. He was her Master, on some level deeper than even the Oath of Service. Looking into those cool gray eyes, she saw that he was aware of her need to submit to him. To yield to him.

And yet, he was also right when he said she hadn’t trusted him—or Arthur, for that matter. She’d feared how they’d react if she’d told them the truth. “I was wrong, Lord Percival. I could have killed us all.”

“Yeah, you could have. We all got lucky.”

She took a deep breath. “That wasn’t luck. That was you, dominating the hell out of me. Making me want to yield to you even in my madness. Not from fear or force, but because of the nature of who you are.”

“Flattering.” His lips curved into an evil smile. “But it’s not going to save you.” Despite the menace in his tone, Morgana could sense the warmth and affection beneath it. He knew her, knew exactly what heated her blood—and his own. And he was fully capable of donning a cold dominant’s pose if that made her hotter, more eager. “You deserve punishment, and I’m going to make sure you get it.” He reached between her thighs with oiled fingers, sliding between the soft petals of her pussy, then pulled out to circle her clit. Pleasure spooled through her, making her shiver under Percival’s predatory gaze, his dark male smile. As he worked her sex with one hand, the other found her breasts, tugging with oiled fingers until she threw back her head and panted in lust. Cream and heat flooded her cunt despite the bubbling water that surrounded her.

“Mmmmm,” Percival purred. “You like that, don’t you?”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes in delight. “Do you really need to ask?”

“No, but I do like to hear it.” He caught her jaw in a hard grip, jolting her out of her quivering pleasure. “Oil my cock. I’m going to fuck that little pussy hard, and you don’t have quite enough lubrication in all this water.”

Morgana blinked up at him. “Yes, Lord Percival.” The words emerged as a hoarse whisper of raw need. She reached for the bottle on the side of the pool, poured her palm full of the oil and reached for his cock. He felt so thick, long, and delicious as she began to stroke his length. One hand didn’t seem enough, so she started using both, up and down, spreading the oil, enjoying the combination of that crowbar hard core and warm velvet skin. She flicked her thumb over the sensitive rim, heard his low growl of pleasure and warning, then slid a hand down to his heavy testacies, weighing and rolling them in her hand.

“Horned God, you feel good.”

“So do you.” He gave her a hot smile as his oiled fingers tightened on one nipple, tugging and milking. Simultaneously, the fingers of the other hand thrust deep in her juicing core. “Are you ready for cock?”

The rough note in his voice made her eyelids dip as she shuddered in lust. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

He released her nipple and pulled his hand out of her cunt, caught her under the arse, and lifted her. Holding her backside in one hand, he used the other to position the head of his cock against the opening of her pussy. And thrust, sliding slowly into her, filling her pussy with his width and heat.

Morgana gasped at the feeling of being so incredibly stuffed. And met his fierce, triumphant gaze as he entered deeper and deeper, taking his time with her silken impalement.

The sensation was starkly delicious—and so was the pleasure he felt, echoing through the Truebond, feeding her blissful desire. As he supported her arse, he strummed the tips of his fingers back and forth over her clit. Each hot touch, each sweet thrust vibrated through her body, shimmered in the Truebond, adding to his sensual satisfaction, which added to hers, which added to his. Around and around in a tightening spiral, desire building to white-hot lust, pleasure to ecstasy more intense than anything she’d ever felt.

He snarled in animal rut and began to fuck her in hard, jarring thrusts that tore a scream of overwhelmed delight from her throat. Supporting her arse with his left hand, he brought his right up to seize a fistful of black curls. He dragged her head back, arching her throat, and bent to sink his fangs into her carotid just above her collar. Still fucking her furiously, he drank in lusty swallows.

The pleasure of it, the orgasmic feedback of his building climax pouring into hers, driving it higher and higher . . .

Morgana shrieked, convulsing, flying apart into light. He catapulted after her into orgasm, releasing her throat to roar.

*   *   *

S
he came back to herself slowly, feeling stunned and limp. Her fingers combed through his silken hair, down to the strong muscle of his throat, then along the broad line of a powerful shoulder. He released her with a reluctant groan, then levered himself out of the spa. Morgana took his hand and let him pull her out, staggering on weak knees to collapse with him on a wide, thickly padded chaise.

“I love you,” she told him, as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his body.

“I know.” Percival grinned wickedly. “And in case you can’t tell, I love you too.”

Morgana grinned back. “I know.” And she did. She could feel his passion and need, just as he could feel hers.

“But just for the record,” he told her, “you’re still my Oath Servant.”

She licked her lips at the hot images that flashed through his mind of things he wanted to do to her, ways he wanted her to submit. “I wouldn’t want it any other way, my lord Percival.”

His eyes narrowed, heated. “And no, it’s not going to be over in a year.”

“Of course not.” Morgana smiled and stroked a curl back from his eyes. “I’ll be yours forever, Oath Master.”

Percival smiled. “And I’ll be yours.”