Master of Darkness (22 page)

“Warlock is an oath-breaker, and he’s made oath-breakers of us all,” the first wolf agreed. The others growled assent. “Kill him. Execute the murdering son of a bitch.”

Arthur nodded and lifted Excalibur. Warlock’s lips parted as if he meant to protest, but the king didn’t give him time to speak before he brought his blade slashing down.

* * *

Miranda watched Warlock
die with a sense of profound and utter disbelief. She stood staring at his headless corpse long after the triumphant Magekind had begun to greet one another, lovers walking into each other’s arms, knights grouping around Arthur for intense low-voiced conversations and shoulder slapping.

“Are you all right?” Justice asked her softly.

“Fine,” she told him absently, trying to believe it was really over. Some part of her was convinced that any moment now, blue magic would flash and Warlock would leap to his feet, head on shoulders again. Evil reborn.

“No, Miranda, you’re not all right.”
She was abruptly aware of Justice’s warm presence in their Spirit Link once again.
“But we’ll work on that until you are.”

He drew her around to face him, waiting patiently while she dragged her eyes from Warlock’s corpse. When he had her attention at last, Justice lowered his head.

The heat of his kiss thawed her icy disbelief. To her appalled mortification, she began to cry against his lips. “I always thought he’d kill me.” She gulped in a shuddering breath. “I knew it.
Knew
those vicious orange eyes would be the last thing I’d ever see.”

“That was never going to happen.” Magic flashed in Justice’s gaze like a salvo of launching missiles. “I’d never let that fucker take you away from me. Not as long as I drew breath.”

Miranda sighed against his mouth and felt her terrified disbelief begin to drain.
Warlock really is dead.

“Yep. Arthur doesn’t screw around when he decides somebody needs killing,” Justice told her.

They drew apart just as Grace du Lac threw herself into Lancelot’s arms, both of them gasping in relief. “I thought I’d lost you!” the blond witch said just before their mouths met in a kiss so passionate, Miranda looked away, her cheeks hot.

“I do love a happy ending,” Maeve sighed, strolling over to join Justice and Miranda. She carried Guinness cuddled in her arms. The dog’s eyes glowed bright green, like a matched pair of alien moons.

Without looking around, the Sidhe goddess gestured, an offhand, almost casual sweep of one hand. Warlock’s corpse burst into flames.

When the fire went out, a gust of wind caught the ashes and swirled them skyward. Miranda drew in a breath, watching the last gray flakes vanish.

My God
, she thought, incredulous joy sweeping through her at last,
he really is dead.

TWENTY-ONE

“Thank you for
my grandchild’s life,” Morgana told Maeve, gratitude and joy blazing in her eyes. “I tried to heal her, but the burns . . .” The witch broke off, shaking her head.

“Think nothing of it.” Maeve shrugged gracefully, though she looked a bit uncomfortable at the witch’s gratitude. “I know more about healing the results of a werewolf magical attack than you do. Especially given that Direkind power is antithetical to yours.”

Morgana angled up her chin. “Either way, I owe you a debt.”

“We all do,” Gwen put in from the circle of Arthur’s arms, where the two stood leaning together in an obvious blend of exhaustion and joy. “If you hadn’t shown us how to filter out the sun once we regained control of the city shield . . .” She shook her head. “I would never have thought to use the wards that way.”

“It’s not a trick I’d make a habit of, were I you,” Maeve cautioned. “Your vampires need the Daysleep as much as they do your blood. They’ll grow weak without it.”

“We know, Maeve,” Arthur told her over his wife’s head. “But it’s still a useful trick to have. Especially in this case.”

Maeve gave him a regal nod. “Believe me, boy, it was my pleasure.”

Boy?
Miranda heard Justice choke. But then, to a Sidhe goddess, perhaps even Arthur’s centuries were the blink of an eye.

“As for you two,” Maeve turned to Justice and Miranda, “you did well, children. I am most pleased.”

In her arms, Guinness spoke up. “Ripping out the dragon’s throat was particularly well done.” He smiled in a broad canine display of teeth. “He definitely had
that
coming.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you,” Justice told Maeve.

Her lips twitched. “No, probably not. But I couldn’t have done it without you, either.”

“Perhaps, but we owe you a debt, my lady.” Arthur watched indulgently as Gwen pulled out of his arms to throw herself into her son’s hug. “Avalon would have been lost if not for you.”

“But it wasn’t.” She studied him with cool eyes. “Now. What of your Direkind prisoners?”

Arthur frowned. Miranda found herself tensing. She realized suddenly she didn’t want to see her fellow wolves die.

“I understand that the ones who survived were all foot soldiers, not Warlock’s Chosen Knights,” the vampire said cautiously, as if feeling his way. “Judging by their scents, I’m inclined to believe them when they say they didn’t know this invasion was supposed to be a massacre rather than a war. And they did help Smoke and his wife fight the Chosen . . .”

“They switched sides?” Miranda asked, startled. “That took guts. My father doesn’t—didn’t—deal kindly with those he considered traitors.”

“Apparently they weren’t kidding when they repudiated his leadership.” Arthur shrugged.

“In any case, you may safely release them,” Maeve told him, green sparks dancing in her eyes. “In fact, you must. These wolves will tell the others what they saw this day—about Warlock’s actions and your own. The Direkind will sing no more ballads in praise of the one they’ll call Oath-breaker.” She smiled slyly. “I suspect instead they’ll sing of Arthur Pendragon and the Knights of the Round Table.”

“What about the Chosen?” Miranda asked, frowning. “They’ve always worshipped Warlock. It’s going to be hard to get them to stop.”

Maeve snorted. “Most of the Chosen lie in heaps of dead around Avalon. Those who yet survive will find their power base destroyed. Elena Rollings and her mate will see to it that the old traditions die a well-deserved death. The days of blind female obedience and casual abuse will end at last.”

Maeve blinked the fireworks from her eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my children. We will be quite busy soon.”

“Busy?” Justice demanded in alarm. “What do you mean, busy?”

Guinness just grinned a toothy dog grin at them as his mistress opened a gate. The two disappeared through it in a tumble of green sparks.

“Well fuck,” Justice grumbled. “I wonder what the hell she meant by that.”

Miranda leaned into him, suddenly tired to the bone.
“Knowing Maeve, we’ll find out one way or another,”
she told him in their Link.
“Though I kind of hope we don’t.”

They turned to find knights and ladies, vampires and witches in passionate embraces, lips sealed in ravenous kisses.

Only Smoke and Eva seemed to be thinking of something other than sex. The couple had opened a huge dimensional gate and were herding the surviving Direkind through it. “Come on, folks, let’s go,” Eva told them, her ghostly antlers glowing above her werewolf head. “Smoke and I have better things to do than provide you lot with taxi service.” She exchanged a wicked grin with her mate.

See what I mean?
Justice told Miranda.
Knights of the Round Table Gone Wild.

He opened his own gate with a flick of his fingers, and reached out a hand. Miranda took it, not particularly caring where they were headed, as long as they were together.

* * *

They stepped through
the gate directly into her cottage’s spacious bathroom. The filled tub steamed gently under a layer of foaming bubbles, as candles burned around it. Their dancing golden light illuminated vases of flowers of every conceivable species and color.

“Oh, God, that’s perfect,” Miranda moaned. “I so need a bath.”

“As it happens, so do I.” He grinned, gesturing again. Their armor melted away like mist.

“You’re getting good at this.” Miranda looped her arms around his neck.

“I’m highly motivated.” Scooping her into his arms, he walked down the steps into the tub. Pausing in the waist-deep, deliciously warm water, he kissed her slowly.

Miranda’s eyes slipped closed as she sank into the kiss, drinking his passion. His tongue swirled lazily around hers, and she chased it with her own, then caught his lower lip between her teeth for a gentle nibble.

Warlock’s dead
. The thought flashed through her mind, bringing another jolt of incredulous joy. He would no longer cast his black shadows over her life. She could love William Justice without looking over her shoulder, fearing that Warlock would plunge them into tragedy.

“Don’t think about him,” Justice murmured, his lips brushing hers. “He’s dead now, and I’m damned well not sharing you with his ghost.”

“You won’t have to,” she told him. “Because I’m going to forget the son of a bitch.”

Justice grinned wickedly. “Let’s see if this helps.” His mouth left hers and started trailing nibbling kisses down the length of her neck, along her collarbones, down the delicate line of her sternum.

When he reached her nipples, she went limp, enjoying the sweet, rising delight of that hot tongue swirling around one tight pink peak. Her pleasure echoed into their Spirit Link, and he hummed in delight, the vibration of his lips making her shiver.

Which gave her the most delicious idea.

Miranda reached below the water to find the rigid thrust of his cock angled just below the surface. She stroked down its length with her fingertips—and gasped at the jolt of pleasure that leaped from his body to hers.

“Oh, now this Spirit Link thing has definite possibilities,” Justice growled.

Miranda laughed. “Just what I was thinking.” She tightened her grip on the big shaft, purring at the creamy pleasure of her own hand. Justice suckled her, one hand cupping and squeezing her breast, the other thumbing her nipple.

“I always wondered how this felt.” He angled his head up to smile into her eyes. “I can definitely see the appeal.” He drew back, cocking his head as he considered her breasts. “Suddenly I have this urge to experiment.”

Miranda grinned into his eyes. “Feel free.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He cupped both breasts together in his big hands. The pale mounds were just generous enough that he could press her nipples closer together. With a rumble of anticipation, he started suckling first one, then the other, swirling patterns over and around them with his tongue.

Catching one hard tip, he rolled it between his teeth, suckling with carefully increasing intensity.

Miranda, both legs curled around his waist, slipped her fingers into his hair. The pleasure he felt at her touch intrigued her, and she started doing some exploring of her own. Leaning closer, she started nibbling his ear, then began working her way down the strong cords of his throat. She felt him shiver, and it was easy to see why. He apparently had a cluster of nerves just under the skin there that hummed in iridescent response to her teeth. Stroking her tongue up and down the jutting cord, she savored the delicate sensations she felt in her own neck, almost as if she nibbled on herself.

Justice, meanwhile, was discovering all kinds of new and fascinating things to do to her breasts: tiny bits that vibrated in hot pleasure with every clever flick of his fingers across whichever erect peak he wasn’t currently suckling. Exquisite little twists and tugs that should have hurt but didn’t; he knew exactly how much pressure to apply.

Finally he reached under her backside, stroking a finger between her vaginal lips to find her clit. He caressed it—and jolted in surprise at the white-hot intensity of the sensation. “Oh, now,” he purred against the nipple he was sucking, “that
is
nice.”

Miranda threaded her fingers deeper into his hair and shuttered her eyes. “It certainly is. You know what I’m thinking?”

“Sixty-nine,” they said in chorus.

“Problem is,” Miranda said, one hand idly toying with his furry balls, “we’d have to get out of this nice, warm bath to go drip on the bed. And then we’d have wet sheets all night.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Justice told her, with a flash of a wicked smile. Magic began to swirl around her, thickening in support like a warm, glowing cushion. Miranda yelped in alarm, instinctively tightening her hold of him. Which didn’t do her much good, since by now his magic was lifting them both clear of the water.

Wide-eyed, she clung to him as they floated two feet above the bubble bath foam, water raining from their bodies to patter into the bath. “Jeeez, Justice!”

“I’m not going to drop you.” His hands swept, drawing patterns in the energy, sculpting glowing mounds of it around her, piling some here for a pillow, still more here under her ass to tilt her hips upward.

Still clinging to him, Miranda looked down. Even she had to admit they only had a couple of feet to fall, right into all that warm, soapy water. They’d probably flood the bathroom, but that was about it.

“Trust me, darling,” Justice murmured, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, magic flashing in their ebony depths. “I’ll never let you down. Not very far, anyway.”

Miranda smiled into those dark, beautiful eyes. “Well, you haven’t so far.” And she relaxed, letting herself sink into the cushion of energy. He leaned in and kissed her again in another slow, sensual exploration of the Spirit Link’s erotic potential.

When he finally drew away again, he swept an appreciative glance down the length of her body.

“Oh, I do
not
look like that.” Miranda blinked at the creamy warmth of her skin in the candlelight. She’d always felt self-conscious about her belly—she’d been trying to lose five pounds since she was fourteen, but her stubborn bathroom scale refused to cooperate.

Yet in Justice’s eyes, her torso stretched long and elegant, her breasts full, delightful curves that stoked his appetite. And her legs—including the calves she’d always secretly considered too thick—were long and slim and graceful.

He met her eyes, and she felt a moment’s dizziness. It was like looking at a mirror, but not quite. She’d never looked at her reflection the way she looked at him, with magic flickering in her glowing eyes and her lips parted, inviting a kiss. He didn’t think her nose was too big or her mouth too full, and he loved the color of her hair. Though, to be honest, she’d always thought her hair was her best feature anyway.

“God,” he said with a blink, “is there
anything
you like about yourself?”

“Hey, I’m female. Neuroses come with the territory.”

He snorted. “Come here and let me give you something else to think about.”

A moment later he was kissing her again as those big, warm hands cupped her breasts, thumbs flicking back and forth across taut, erect nipples.

His cock lay along the line of her hip, trapped between their bodies, offering all kinds of exotic possibilities. She reached down and cupped his balls.

“Damn,” she breathed against his mouth at the lush pleasure. His body was so beautifully sensitive, each stroke of her fingertips sent racing flares of pleasure up his spine. “It’s definitely time for a blowjob.”

“You talked me into it,” he panted.

But maneuvering in his cloud of magic proved a bit more tricky than she’d expected. First her knee punched through one mound of semi-permeable energy that felt a bit like Jell-O, followed a moment later by the palm of her hand.

“Let me,” he murmured, and suddenly she was moving, her body rotating in the air until she stretched head-down along his body. He brought her in closer with another wave of power, rolling her onto her side as he bent one knee. “Pillow your head on my thigh. That way you won’t get a crick in your neck.”

Miranda obeyed, finding him a firm—if slightly hairy—cushion. So she bent her own bottom leg to offer him the same support. He rested his head there, and she smiled in pleasure at the cool, fine silk of his dark hair curling against her leg.

She lost the smile when he hooked her upper thigh over his forearm, spreading her deliciously wide. She got a sudden close-up image of her own labia as he spread them with two fingers and leaned in
. So that’s what that looks like
, she thought, and jolted with a gasp as he licked her in one long, delicious pass.

Curiosity spurring her, she leaned in and sucked his furry balls into her mouth to gently roll them back and forth over her tongue. The wave of silken pleasure he felt made her shiver.

Tonguing them, she sucked lazily for a while, then decided to go to new territory. Releasing his balls, Miranda started working her way up the length of his cock. There was a long, thick vein snaking up its underside to the flushed glans, and she licked her way along it. Shimmering waves of pleasure rewarded every flick of her tongue.