Priestess Dreaming (An Otherworld Novel) (30 page)

“Take me.” The Moon Mother spoke through me to the Hunter, as I spoke to my priest.

And then, slowly, his gaze fixed to mine, he leaned in again and roughly fastened his lips to mine, his tongue gently darting between my lips. I lowered my arms, enfolding him in my embrace, my hands sliding across the smooth skin of his back. Morio moaned, low and muffled, his mouth pressed against mine.

Sliding my hand down to cup his perfect, tight, ass, I caught my breath as his cock pressed against my stomach, erect and rigid. As I shifted my hips, he broke away from the kiss, his eyes flaring with desire.

He picked me up and swung me on top of the casket. I braced my feet against the smooth crystal, spreading my knees. Morio let out a hungry laugh and crawled between my legs, his cock primed. Whimpering, I pulled him down, and he drove himself into me, as he filled me up to the hilt. I was wet, slick, and he slid in with a soft sound, stretching me wide, yet that did nothing to relieve the tension, but just merely stoked the fire.

As he began to thrust, my breasts rubbed against his chest and he leaned down, lowing his lips to my right nipple, tugging it with his teeth, teasing me as he held still, deep within me, forcing me still. Impaled on his cock, I shifted my hips, begging him to move, to drive himself into me, but he held fast, building the heat between us, and reached down to stroke my clit.

I whimpered, wanting to be driven over that edge, to soothe the itch and growing pressure. I tightened my pussy around his cock, squeezing to firmly hold him inside me. That pushed him into action, and he drew back, then drove himself in me for all he was worth, ramming his cock deep before sliding out for another thrust.

Drunk with lust, I met his pace, fucking him with every ounce of energy I had, pouring all the pent-up hunger and desire into the mix. The dragon picked up her pace, whirling around us, whipping our passion into a cloud of mist that covered the circle we were in.

Another moment, and I suddenly felt myself on the edge, teetering on the rocks, and then nothing could stop me and I fell, bucking as I came. I screamed out the name “Myrddin” and a flash filled the circle, blinding me as I orgasmed. Morio climaxed, pumping with one, final thrust as he cried out. The energy we had built spiraled into a cone, and then, swirling, dove down again and disappeared into the coffin.

We froze for a moment—a lifetime?—and then, he slowly relaxed into my arms as I went limp, all the energy dissipating.

The dragon slowed her circling, and an inner nudge pushed me to sit up. Morio climbed off the coffin and helped me down. As we turned, I wasn’t surprised to see that the mist now also filled the casket.

“We have to get it open. Quickly.” I shrugged into my clothes as fast as I could. The cold had returned and whatever altered space we’d been in had just vanished.

Morio hurried to dress, a goofy smile on his face. He was a loving and passionate partner, and when magic entered our sex, it was mind-blowing. While he finished putting on his boots, I hurried over to the coffin and looked for a way to open it. There, on the side, I found a recess. I slid my fingers inside and felt a button.

“Hurry—we need to open this now.”

As Morio fastened his belt, I pressed the button and a soft sigh issued from inside the casket. The mist began to swirl out. Morio joined me, helping me swing the lid open. The hinges were strong and kept it from bouncing against the floor.

The last whiffs of the mist wafted away, and the dragon slowed her circling as the rest of the room came back into focus. Delilah and Tanne had pulled out flashlights and the cool beams lit up the room. Morgaine, Mordred, and Arturo began to edge forward. Bran was keeping his distance, and Delilah and Tanne were keeping an eye on everyone.

I turned back to the casket, as did Morio. Now, I could see the man lying within had coiling blue snakes tattooed around both forearms. As we watched, his open eyes, blinked, and he slowly turned his head.

“Where am I?”

The Merlin had woken up.

*   *   *

Out of the coffin, Myrddin was even more beautiful than he was in it. His hair was shoulder length, and the burgundy locks tumbled around his shoulders in a cascade of curls. The scruff on his chin gave him a rugged look, and he stood with authority. I don’t think there was a person in the room—including Bran—who wasn’t at least a little in awe. Morgaine stared at him with shining eyes, and I’d never seen her look so happy.

Myrddin let out a slow breath, and as he did so, the dragon wound herself around him in a sinuous hug. He reached out and lightly stroked her head.

“Áine, my love.” Affection filled his voice, and he lightly kissed his fingers and pressed them to her forehead. “You are still with me.”

The dragon—apparently named Áine—let out a soft croon and went back to circling the room, but at a slower pace. She seemed at peace now, almost comforted. As I watched her, memories of the woman in the vision filtered back and then I knew who Áine was.

She’d been the priestess—the Merlin’s consort and partner. I hung my head, wondering how long she’d waited for his return. Had she always been a dragon-shifter? A young one, she’d had to have been when they were first together, if she’d watched over him for thousands of years. But then, Smoky was a young dragon and he had lived before the Great Divide.

“Welcome back, Lord Myrddin,” I finally said, not knowing exactly how to approach him. I had no clue what title he preferred, or if he had any idea what year he was now in.

Myrddin turned to me, and then glanced over the group. “You have the advantage. You know who I am, but I have no clue who any of you are. Or . . . even
when
I am. Introductions, if you would, and tell me what year is this?”

His English was impeccable. How the hell he adapted to our language without even hearing us talk confounded me, but then I glanced over at the dragon. She tilted her head and I could have sworn she winked at me. Somehow, she’d played a part in it. I wasn’t sure how, but women had a way of letting other women know their secrets.

I curtseyed. I was used to curtseying before those I considered royalty and the practice felt as natural as breathing. “My name is Camille. I’m a Priestess of the Moon Mother. This is my sister Delilah, a Death Maiden for the Autumn Lord. Morio, one of my husbands. And these”—I turned to gesture to each in turn—“Morgaine, the Queen of Dusk and Twilight. Her nephew Mordred, and . . . Arturo.” I wondered if Myrddin would even have a clue who they were—he’d been imprisoned before any of them had been born. It had been Meher who had played the Merlin to Arturo’s Arthur.

But Myrddin walked over to Morgaine and gazed down at her—he was close to six feet without his headdress, and Morgaine was short. “You remind me of someone.” He turned back to me. “You, too. The both of you remind me of my Áine when she took her human form.” His expression fell, and I had the feeling there was something we didn’t quite know about the dragon-shifter. He must have seen the question in my eyes. “Do you know . . . of the battle that took place—”

“The Great Divide, when the Fae Lords separated the worlds into their own realms?”

He nodded.

“Yes . . . we were taught in our history courses about it. Well, over in Otherworld. You are Earthside, by the way.” I wasn’t sure how much information to pile on him at once.

But Myrddin merely nodded. “I thought as much. I rather doubted they would imprison me over in the new realm. When we stood at trial—Aeval and Titania, Áine, and I—they chose to imprison the Fae Queens and me. But Áine was young, and they took pity. They laid a spell on her, forcing her to forever be locked within her dragon form.”

That was so many shades of wrong. The more I was hearing, the more pissed off I was at the Fae Lords. “Couldn’t they just let her return to the Dragon Realms?”

Áine silently glided up, bumping lightly into the Merlin’s arm. She rubbed her giant head against him and he laughed, stroking it. “My love . . . I begged her to, but she wouldn’t leave my side. They locked her here as a guardian for me. She’s been alone all this time, watching over my body.”

Morgaine’s eyes narrowed. “There are reasons that many of the Fae stayed Earthside.”

“But what year is this? And how did you find me to wake me up? Dreams have come and gone, and so many visions that I have no clue what might be real and what isn’t. I have my memories, now that I’m awake, but there are some images that haunt me, and I do not know if they were actual, or if they were simply paintings on my mind’s canvas.” Myrddin was soft-spoken but the authority behind his voice echoed through the chamber.

I sucked in a long breath and told him what year it was, watching his eyes widen. “Morgaine knew how to find you thanks to Meher, the acting Merlin who trained her.” Standing back, I had the feeling that Myrddin would have some questions for her.

And that, he did. “Meher? I do not remember him.”

Morgaine curtseyed, as deep and gracious as I had, which surprised me. She didn’t look in the least like she was trying to be a smartass with him, and I realized she was afraid. The Merlin had her scared spitless. Either that or she was running mega-fangirl.

“My lord, Meher took the title from the ashes of your reign, some five hundred years after you were imprisoned, I believe. I wasn’t around at that time. There was a period in which the great Fae Lords prevented anyone from acting in your stance, and only then did they enthrone someone they could control. Meher was firmly in Otherworld’s pockets, until he got greedy and struck out on his own.”

Myrddin didn’t look very happy. “Only the Hunter may choose his High Priest. This Meher had no authority to act in my stead and the Fae Lords had no right to appoint him to the task.” He drew himself up, straightening his shoulders. “Is he still holding office?”

Morgaine shook her head. “I think there may be someone else in charge now, but I have no idea. There is no strength to the post any longer.”

Áine fluttered around Myrddin in a dizzying spiral. She then gently nudged Morgaine, and then, me. I wasn’t sure what she was doing. I knew better than to lose any respect for her, but I realized that I no longer feared her. Oh, she would be deadly if roused, but there was a gentleness to her, a softness that was both vulnerable and terribly strong at the same time. I shivered, thinking of how she’d been trapped in here, all that time, protecting her lover’s body as he slept.

Reaching out, I hesitantly held my hand up to her cheek. She purred like a cat and rubbed the feather-like scales along my fingers. I stroked her lightly, reveling in how smooth and warm her cheek was. She hiccupped then, a puff of smoke emerging from her nostrils to make me cough, and I laughed.

“She likes you.” Myrddin glanced at me. “She needs a friend. She’s been alone for so long.” He turned back to Morgaine, and then his gaze fell on Arturo. He beckoned him forward. Morgaine looked wary, but there was no way she could contradict the Merlin. Only Titania or Aeval would have the power to do that, and even they might be hesitant in going up against him.

“You are so lost . . .” Myrddin reached out to touch Arturo’s hand. He swiftly raised his gaze, staring into the Wounded King’s eyes. “You are lost and everything seems as if it’s in a dream.” With a wave of his hand, he swept his fingers lightly across Arturo’s temples. “Wake, old man, and remember your greatness. Wake, and remember your destiny.”

As Morgaine realized what he was doing, she let out a faint cry. Mordred sprang forth, but before he could reach them, Myrddin slapped his palm against Arturo’s forehead and the fog in the man’s eyes cleared. As we watched, he came to life once more, understanding flickering into his eyes. He woke, from centuries of lethargy, to Myrddin’s touch and as he did so, his shoulders straightened and his aura flared.

Arturo turned to see Mordred running toward him and he opened his arms. “
My son
. You
are
here. I’ve thought . . . I thought you existed only in my memories and even those were fading into distant songs and glimpses of the past.” And then, whirling, he saw Morgaine and the expression on his face crumpled into one of pain and loss. “You—what are
you
doing here?”

For a moment, Morgaine stared at him, uncertainty and fear crossing her face. “I saved your life when Lancelot would have taken it. I’ve kept you going all these years.
That’s
what I’m doing here.” Anger replaced anguish. “I took care of you, and fed you, and kept you out of trouble.”

Mordred fell into the mix looking confused. “Why are you mad at Aunt Morgaine? She tells the truth—she’s taken care of you.”

“I will not let her have you back! She would turn you to her side to spite me. I asked you for nothing, Morgaine—I wanted
nothing
from you!” Arturo’s pale and complacent look had taken on a sanguine, defiant expression. “And what do you mean, you saved my life? Mordred saved me.”

“He fought off Lancelot, but you were bleeding out. I did the only thing I could to save your ass. I fed you the Nectar of Life and took you back to Avalon at my own risk.” Morgaine was crying now. I’d never seen her so distraught and my first impulse was to take her side, but Morio held me back.

“What for? Did you think it would change my feelings? Did you think you could make me love you by saving my life? Did you think I’d give Mordred back to you just because you did your duty and saved your king?” Arturo was raging now, and in that moment, I realized that the villain here wasn’t Morgaine, and it wasn’t Mordred, but instead—ignorance and anger and denial.