Love Bites (4 page)

Percival’s lips twitched. “The girls?”

“Oh. Uh. They’re much better now. It was touch and go for a while; I was afraid I was going to lose them.” Caroline shook her head. “He’d damned near bitten that one girl in half. I only just now got them healed and asleep. Sorry I wasn’t able to join the fight with that Smaug rip-off.”

Galahad snorted. “I’m not.”

Percival couldn’t blame him; he wouldn’t want the woman he loved fighting a dragon either.

Speaking of . . . He looked toward Morgana, realizing she hadn’t shifted back. “Morg?” She lay on the ground in a heap of wings and long reptilian neck. She wasn’t moving. Fear stabbed him. “Morgana!” She didn’t even twitch a wing.

“Shit!” Cador spat, as they all started toward the unmoving black-scaled form.

“Oh, hell, she’s hurt. Bad.” Caroline broke into a run.

“How bad?” Percival raced after her.

“Shhhh!” She slapped both hands over the nearest draconic foreleg and closed her eyes as she began to chant, her tone urgent.

The knights gathered around, tense and anxious as they waited.

“She seriously needs her arse kicked for leaving us back in that alley,” Cador muttered. “She damned near got herself killed—along with those girls.”

“Yeah, I’m fully aware of that,” Percival growled. “And yes, I
will
see to that arse kicking.” As soon as she was conscious. He stared at her crumpled draconic form in worry.

*   *   *

I
n the distance, a child cried.

Morgana balanced on a stool on the tips of her toes, her hands bound in front of her, spots dancing in front of her eyes. She couldn’t draw breath for the pressure of the noose around her neck . . .

“Morgana!”

The magical voice cut through her nightmare, followed by a wave of energy that healed her injuries and forced her to shift back to human form.

Panicked by the alien magical presence, she came off the ground with her instincts howling.

A deep voice jerked her out of the nightmare before she could attack the source of that magic. “Morgana.”

At the sound of Percival’s familiar baritone, full consciousness hit her. She blinked, realizing she was staring into the knight’s face with magic boiling around her hands. Beside him stood Caroline, looking startled, healing magic fading from her own hands.

Percival’s gray eyes flicked pointedly to the murderous energy globes Morgana still held at the ready.
Oh, Merlin’s Cup!
She’d damned near shot him. “Sorry.” She banished the magic, trying to remember what was going on.

He glowered at her. “You want to tell me what the hell you thought you were doing?”

She licked her dry lips, still wracking her desperate memory. “Uh . . . When?”

He exploded. “When you fucking left us in that fucking alley to go fight a fucking dragon fucking
solo
! Were you
trying
to kill yourself?”

Any time Percival stared using the “F” word multiple times in the same sentence, you had transgressed. The more “fucks” there were, the more you’d pissed him off. Four was a record.

Morgana winced as the events of the last hour flooded back, replacing the sticky remnants of the hanging dream. “I . . .”

“Save it!” he snapped. “I do not want to hear any fucking rationalizations!”

Only one fuck that time. At least he was calming down.

*   *   *

W
ell, I screwed that up,
Morgana thought two hours later as she paced the corridor’s gleaming black marble floor, shooting anxious glances at the door of the Round Table Chamber. They’d gated directly to the towering stone Great Hall in the magical city of Avalon, home of the Magekind. Percival’s team had promptly closeted themselves with Arthur Pendragon to make a formal complaint.

She had never seen Percival so furious. The other two men wouldn’t speak to her at all.

Even Kel had frowned at her when he and Nineva sought her out to apologize for not being able to come to the rescue. It had all been over by the time the couple had fought off the terrorists and gotten the children to safety.

In human form, Kel was a big, powerfully built man as tall as Marrok, with shoulder-length blue hair and eyes the color of rubies. His wife Nineva was as small and delicately lush as he was huge, with white-blonde hair and the pointed ears of her half-Sidhe heritage. Both wore bloody armor and swords at their belts. A pair of Heckler & Koch G36 assault rifles hung over their shoulders.

The dragon knight gave her a frustrated glower. “Morg, what the hell were you thinking? You’re lucky you didn’t wind up Purina Dragon Chow.”

“I was thinking I didn’t want my team to end up as the lizard kibble.” She raked a hand through her hair. “Look, the killer got away. Do you think you can get the Dragonkind to help bring him to justice?”

“I’ll give it a shot.” He shrugged. “Though I think it’s only fair to warn you, there are a lot of dragons who are still pretty hostile to the Magekind. I don’t know how much cooperation we’ll get.”

“Ask Soren. I’m sure he’d help search. He may also be able to persuade other dragons to assist.”

“It’s certainly worth a try. In any case, I think bringing this creature down is a task for dragons, not Magekind.” Kel shot her a stern look. “Even shape-shifting Magekind.”

“So go catch him,” Morgana said. “Hopefully before he kills anybody else.”

Kel flashed a grim smile. “We’ll do our best.” His gaze turned thoughtful. “In fact, I think I’ll head to the Dragonlands now and see what I can find out.”

Gesturing, he opened a dimensional gate and stepped through it. Nineva gave Morgana a sympathetic look before following her husband. “Good luck, Morgana.”

“Thanks.”
From the sound of things, I’ll need it.

Almost against her will, her thoughts slipped back in time to the night she’d first seen—really
seen
—who and what Percival was. The first time she’d felt the primal male power he could command.

Camelot, 500 CE

M
organa paused outside the room that belonged to Sir Percival and paused, swallowing nervously. Percival had defeated three other warriors the day before for the right to drink from Merlin’s Grail.

That one sip of the magical potion knocked him unconscious while it transformed his body, making him into an immortal blood drinker.

After a full day out cold, Percival had regained consciousness. Now he’d need to feed for the first time. The problem was that when the Magi first woke from the Grail Sleep, their starving brains were barely capable of speech, much less complex thought.

But they were more than capable of sex and seduction.

Nimue had warned Morgana that Percival might not recognize her at all, but he would want to drink from her, as well as satisfy the raging sexual arousal that was a side effect of Merlin’s spell.

The idea of experiencing Percival’s passion didn’t strike Morgana as particularly frightening. She’d known the big, blond knight for years, and had always found him intelligent, honorable, and capable—as well as handsome and intriguing. She was more than happy to fulfill any needs he had.

Unlocking his chamber door with a flick of her will, Morgana moved inside. It was dark in the small room, and she gestured, sending a wave of magic to light the lamp that hung from a chain by the bed. She smiled with pleasure at the easy way the power had leaped to her command.

Powerful hands seized her, snatching her off her feet. She hit a muscled body with a startled, breathless
woof
!
Instinct almost drove her to hit her attacker with a fireball.
Percival
, she realized belatedly.
It’s Percival!

Her eyes widened as she realized the knight was naked.

Very, very naked.

Tall, his bare chest broad, powerful, and furred in gold, his handsome head was surrounded by a disordered fall of blond hair. His gray eyes stared hungrily at her, his nostrils flaring at her scent. Her gaze tracked down the length of his torso to his erection. She blinked at the sight of it—the long, thick shaft with its ruddy head, the balls covered in blond curls. “Oh,” she said in a hoarse voice. She cleared her throat. “My.”

He licked his sensual lips, the tips of his fangs just visible between them. His hard body pressed against her, hot and powerful, making her intensely aware of her femininity. Something in his possessive male gaze sent heat flooding her sex until she instinctively pressed her thighs together in rising need.

“Want you.” His voice sounded impossibly deep and hot. And incredibly seductive. “Now.”

Morgana licked her dry lips and swallowed as she glanced up, meeting Percival’s pale eyes in the dim light. She’d come in here fully intending to give him her throat, but somehow she hadn’t counted on the intimidating intensity of his hunger. “Sir Knight, I . . .”

He looked her over, dominance and demand in his gaze. “Need you,” he growled. One big hand stroked down the length of her back. Despite her instinctive alarm at his predatory hunger, her body simultaneously tightened and heated in response to his delicious sensuality. She knew she could hit him with a blast of magic, force him to release her. Escape. Yet she had no desire to go. She wanted to experience his dark hunger, the feeling of his cock in her sex, his fangs in her throat. Wanted to satisfy the hot female curiosity he’d inspired in her since the day she’d met him. Just the thought of making love to him flooded her sex with cream.

Percival studied her with that animal hunger in his eyes. He smiled in satisfaction at what he saw and said, his voice rumbling low and deep, a sound she felt in her chest as much as heard. “Taking you
now
.”

He dropped her to the bed in a rustle of dried grass mattress and pounced, his hands grabbing the cord belt that bound her filmy white tunic closed. Stripping it off and tossing it aside, he jerked the tunic off over her head.

The knight braced over her on powerful arms, staring down at her nudity, his gaze glittering on the tight peaks of her breasts. One hand came up, finding the right nipple, tugging and twisting it until she squirmed at the liquid heat rolling through her. Sensing her helpless need, he stroked a big forefinger of his free hand between her slick vaginal lips. The combination of his lupine stare and his skillfully stroking fingers soon had her shuddering in helpless need. He teased her breasts with one hand and her sex with the other until her hips began to pump, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “Oh, Horned God, Percival, please!”

With a satisfied growl, he slid his fingers from her pussy to close both hands over the round globes of her breasts, plumping the soft flesh as he lowered his blond head. His fangs bit deep into the soft flesh on either side of her nipple.

Morgana convulsed in shock at the sharp, stinging bite, “Percival!” She shoved at his powerful shoulders, only to find herself unable to budge his muscled weight as he pinned her to the bed. “That hurts!”

He crooned to her, keeping her pinned, drinking in deep swallows, his tongue swirling and stroking, drawing patterns around the hard little nubbin. Every drawing tug of his mouth worked her breast with such wicked skill. Wrapped in his powerful arms, Morgana found herself yielding to his vampire strength as the pain faded and pleasure started to rise. She gasped, her eyes sliding closed. It made no sense at all, yet somehow the sting of his teeth intensified the pleasure of his suckling. She’d never experienced anything like it before, but the pleasure/pain was too strong to be denied. Too intense. Too dark. Too delicious. Too much.

Morgana writhed as the wicked pleasure of the moment sent her body’s arousal leaping higher and hotter. Her desire grew as he continued to feed, taking the blood his newly transformed body needed. “Horned God, Percival!” she gasped in his ear, her hips rolling helplessly against his, seeking stimulation from his thick cock-stand. Her nails dug into his muscled arse, trying to pull him closer so she could grind her clit against his sword-hard shaft.

Dragging his fangs from her breast with a low growl of lust, the knight moved up between her thighs and speared his cock deep in one ruthless thrust. Morgana cried out, writhing as he filled her, his cock feeling as if it extended well past her navel. “Perrrrrrcivaaaaaal!”

He growled back at her, the sound rough and animal. Lunging hard, stroking deep, he fucked her with such force their bodies jolted together with loud slaps. So hard it should have hurt, probably would have hurt if he hadn’t aroused her so savagely, so quickly. Her pleasure grew, spiraling in a searing corkscrew so intense it seemed to glow behind her closed lids.

Bucking and screaming, Morgana came as he roared, the sound of his completion almost deafening her. The blinding delight of her climax pulsed deep in her belly, throbbing on and on, longer than any orgasm she’d ever had, fierce and sweet and merciless.

At last she collapsed back onto the bed, sweating, breathing with heaving effort, her heart beating so hard, it made her breasts bounce and judder. Percival panted just as hard as he held her close.

She listened to the deep, hard strokes of his heart, still feeling stunned by the force of her peak. It had almost seemed as if the pain of his feeding had spurred her pleasure. That made no sense—why would the sting of those fangs intensify her climax? And yet it had.

Finally he stirred against her, drawing back. The gray eyes that met hers now held a man’s intelligence as they probed hers. Guinevere had told her that once the Magus had taken enough blood on waking, his mind would return to normal. It seemed the queen had been right.

Percival’s gaze searched hers, narrow, fierce with demand. “You’re mine now. You hear me, Morgana?”

Her heart seemed to simply . . . stop. The thought of belonging to this beautiful man was incredibly seductive, incredibly tempting.

Morgana had never considered herself a weak-willed person. She was too stubborn to be easily led. But as she looked up into Percival’s fierce, handsome face, felt the hard strength of those massive arms, she realized she wanted to be his. Wanted to belong to him, as she’d never belonged to anyone before. “What . . . what do you mean?”