Master of Swords (7 page)

This time it was Gawain's helm that rang like a bell. He hit the ground on his back.

“Yes!” Lark did an impromptu end-zone boogie around his astonished, prostrate body.

He promptly hooked her ankle with his foot and jerked. She tumbled and he pounced, flattening her under his weight.

Flipping up his gooey visor, he growled, “Peanut butter? You took me down with a ball of
peanut butter
?”

She couldn't breathe.
Weight crushing down on her chest, a fanged face looming over her…
Terror jerked her heart into a ball of ice.

“Gawain!” Kel snapped.

“Shit!” He jerked off his helm and threw it aside, then rolled away, lifting his free hand in an I-mean-no-harm gesture. “Lark, baby, it's me. You're okay!”

The sight of those worried green eyes thawed the knot, and she caught her breath with a gasp. She doubled over, panting and sickened. “Oh, man.”

“Hey, I'm sorry about that.” He eased back to her side. “I wasn't even thinking. Screwed that up, didn't I? And you were doing so well.”

“The peanut butter thing was clever,” Kel put in. “I wasn't expecting that at all.”

Her thundering heartbeat had begun to slow. “Yeah, Tristan always told me the only way to beat a guy like you was to cheat.”

Kel snorted. “Lark, when it comes to battle, there's no such thing as cheating.”

She sat back on her heels with a sigh. “Just what Tristan always says.”

“You okay?” Gawain studied her, his gaze anxious.

Lark looked up at him, taking in that rough-hewn face and armored Humvee of a body. Suddenly his worry for her struck her as unbearably sweet.

She leaned forward and kissed him.

It was an impulse kiss, more fast smack than anything else. But as she started to draw away, the taste of him registered, male and sexy and unbearably tempting.

She found herself leaning in again for another taste. And this time, he kissed her back.

Heat rolled through her like molten honey, and Lark moaned softly. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, tasting him. He responded with a lazy tongue swirl of his own, and the kiss heated.

When they finally came up for air, Lark drew back a little. Green eyes searched hers, hooded.

She cleared her throat and tried to calm her ragged breathing with a change of subject. “I did okay, though. At least at first.”

The Desire heated his eyes again. “You did great—until I scared you.”

“It wasn't your fault.” She sighed. “I'm just going to have to work on it.”

He stroked a gentle armored hand through her hair. “You'll get better.”

“Yeah.” And she would. He'd shown her that much. “I think I'm going to be all right with the magic and the sword stuff. Maybe we should try some hand-to-hand now.” She met his gaze and tried to pretend the very idea didn't make her heart pound.

Gawain studied her face, his eyes softening. “Yeah, I think I can show you a thing or two.”

Her lips twitched. “Oh, I'm sure of it.”

He laughed. “We probably need to drop the armor. Hard to practice these kinds of techniques in full plate.”

“Would a
gi
do?” Reading his lifted brow, she explained, “I took martial arts for a while. My granddad wanted to make sure I could fend off pushy dates.”

Gawain gave her a teasing smile. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Lark closed her eyes and started to transform her armor into a loose cotton
gi
. At the last moment, though, her feminine ego rebelled, and the
gi
became silk instead.

When she opened her eyes again, Gawain was looking at her with heated approval. Since he himself wore nothing but loose, low-slung cotton pants, her view wasn't bad either. “God, I love that chest.”

“Funny,” he drawled, giving her
gi
jacket a longing glance, “I was thinking the same thing.”

Lark laughed. “Charmer.”

“I do try.” He crouched to lay Kel in the sawdust, then straightened and moved toward her. “Okay, let me show you what to do the next time one of those bastards gets you on your back.”

She smiled at him, unable to resist the urge to tease. “Does that mean you want to be on top?”

“One of my favorite positions,” he agreed, straight-faced.

Lark lay down, then braced herself up on her elbows as he dropped to his knees beside her. “Now, if you start feeling panicky, let me know.”

“Sure. Though actually, I feel a bit better now that neither of us is in armor. You're a big guy anyway, but suited up, you look like a tank.”

“That's the idea,” Kel said from the sawdust. “If you can intimidate the hell out of your opponent, you've got an instant advantage.”

She grimaced. “Whereas bad guys look at me and think,
Happy Meal
!”

“Sweetheart, it's all in the attitude. A Maja with a couple of flaming balls of death around her hands is plenty intimidating.” Gawain crawled over her on all fours, careful not to actually touch her. His long hair hung in his face, and he tossed his head to throw it out of the way so he could meet her eyes. “Is this okay?”

Lark eyed the luscious expanse of his tanned shoulders and cleared her throat. “It's fine.”

“Good.” For once, his expression was intent, serious. “First off, if a sorcerer's got you down like this, your objective is to get him the hell off as fast as possible. Don't bother struggling—just fry his ass. Pour as much magic into him as you can. That's your best weapon.”

His mouth looked deliciously kissable.
Concentrate, Lark.
“Magic. Best weapon. I know that. But that guy the other night—he'd stunned me with a blast. Next thing I knew, he had me pinned.”

“Like this?” He caught her wrists and pressed them into the sawdust, then lowered his body over hers until their bellies touched.

Lark swallowed. His fingers felt strong and warm without the cold metal of his gauntlets covering them. “Yeah. I couldn't move my hands.”

“You know, the magic doesn't have to come from your fingertips,” Kel said from his nest of sawdust. “Dragons breathe their spells. Hell, you could beam it from your eyes like Superman if you wanted. Body parts are just a focal point. The magic comes from inside.”

Lark looked up at Gawain and promptly yielded to temptation. “You mean like this?” Puckering her lips as if blowing a kiss, she breathed a spell into his face.

“Whoa!” His eyes widened at the blatantly sexual buzz she'd sent him. He blinked, and a flush climbed his cheeks as he hardened against her belly in a delightful rush. “Ummm. Probably best not to use that particular spell on the bad guys.”

Lark gave him a deliberately heavy-lidded glance. “Tell you what—I'll save it for you.”

He cleared his throat. “You do that.”

 

Damn, but he
liked her, Gawain thought. Yes, she was woefully inexperienced, but then, so were Geirolf 's sorcerers, at least compared to him. As long as he kept an eye on her, she'd be okay.

Merlin knew keeping an eye on her would be no hardship. That lush little body was driving him crazy. With every breath, heat pooled in his balls and spun into his rapidly lengthening erection.

And she wanted him, too. He could smell the intoxicating scent of arousal rising from her half-clad skin.

Unfortunately, there was a hint of fear mixed in with her need. Which was no surprise either, really. She was a full foot shorter than he, no taller than five-four or so, with a slender build that intensified the impression of fragility.

Her features were equally delicate in her heart-shaped face. Her slim nose was just a touch long, and her mouth was full-lipped, sweetly sensual. Her hair fell around her shoulders in a cascade of dark silk that seemed to invite his fingers.

He couldn't help noticing there was nothing small about those full, pretty breasts. Most of what little height she had seemed to be leg. Add that long swan's neck, and she looked like a vampire's wet dream.

And she kept staring at his mouth.

Oh, hell. If he didn't call this off, he was going to lose it and really scare her.

“I think that's enough for today.” Gawain released her slim shoulders and rolled away from her.

Distance. He needed distance.

Right now.

 

Lark watched as
Gawain rose to his feet and turned away from her, his entire body stiff. And she knew exactly why.

He wanted her.

But after spending the past couple of hours in mock combat, Lark found the idea of his hunger a lot less intimidating than it had been. He'd proven he wouldn't hurt her, no matter what the provocation.

And she wanted him. Really wanted him, not just to work through her fear or to prove a point to both of them. She wanted to make love, something she hadn't done in far too long. Even her encounters with Dominic had been purely about triggering her Gift.

With Gawain, she knew she'd feel real passion. She'd feel alive for the first time in months, without the weight of guilt or grief or fear.

And God, she needed that.

“Gawain,” she said softly, rising to her feet.

He didn't turn around. “What?”

“You're not the only one who's hungry.” She untied her
gi
belt.

Gawain glanced over his shoulder at her just as she let the jacket slide off her shoulders. He turned completely as she pulled off the loose shirt that lay under it, then dropped the silken trousers. The way his eyes blazed as he watched made her feel like the hottest thing since Carmen Electra. He swallowed. “Are you sure you're ready for this?”

Lark smiled slightly, knowing her arousal must be perfuming her scent. “Take a deep breath,” she suggested, “and you tell me.”

He inhaled, and his eyes widened. “Oh, you're sure.”

“I always did like mammal females,” Kel said from the sawdust. “You're all so soft and warm.” He sighed gustily. “Ah, well. I suppose this is my cue to sleep.”

“That might be best,” Gawain agreed without looking away from Lark's nudity. His voice sounded gratifyingly hoarse.

With a last longing look at her, Kel dropped his muzzle and closed his ruby eyes the instant before his body stiffened.

Even as Kel went to sleep, Gawain was stripping off his pants.

If anything, the knight was even more impressive without the armor. She blinked, taking in the sculpted beauty of his broad torso, the long powerful legs, the brawny arms. His skin retained a tan that must date back sixteen centuries, when he'd first drunk from Merlin's Grail and become immortal. The brown tone contrasted with the pale gold of the chest hair that formed a tree-of-life pattern over his muscular pecs. The pattern narrowed as it flowed down to his groin, as if mapping the way to treasure.

He was fully, deliciously erect, his staff thick and jutting over a pair of full, taut balls.

And she was just as ready for him.

Lark ached to
touch that luscious erection, but she didn't want to rush the moment. Instead, she reached out and brushed her fingertips across his ruff of chest hair. It felt intriguingly springy, yet surprisingly soft.

As she moved her hand, her thumb brushed a tiny dark nipple. The little point tightened, and Gawain made a low, sensual sound in his throat.

Lark looked up at him, enjoying the slow, sweet burn of arousal. After teasing each other for so many hours, touching him was such a sweet relief.

“That was nice,” he told her. His lids lowered, shielding the bright green of his gaze even as his lips parted, revealing the points of his fangs.

An image of the sorcerer's bloody mouth flashed through her mind. She froze.

Gawain's gentle hand caught hers. “Don't think about that bastard. He's dead. And if he wasn't, I'd kill him for you.” His gaze searched hers, demanding her belief. “I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do.”

“That's fine,” she told him steadily. “Because I want you to do everything.”

Intent on proving just that, Lark rose on her toes, threaded her fingers through his long hair, and drew his head down. His mouth opened under hers, lips like damp satin, flavored with masculinity, rough and wild.

She put everything she had into the kiss, with gentle bites of his lips and slow, swirling thrusts of her tongue. He kissed her back, his big hands sliding down to cup her bare backside and lift her against his muscular belly. She caught his brawny shoulders to steady herself, leaning into him, enjoying the hard strength of his body. His cock pressed along the length of her belly, hungry and thick with his need.

Gawain lifted his head just a moment, meeting her gaze. His lips were damp, his green eyes hot. Then his mouth swooped down again.

This time he didn't let her take the lead. The kiss was all feral male demand, so hot and seductive, Lark melted against him with a low moan.

With an answering growl, he bent her backward over one bare arm so he could reach her breasts. She gasped as he drew one nipple into his mouth, raking it gently with his teeth, then suckling hard enough to send her head into a pleasurable spin.

Lark dropped her hands to the sculpted muscle of his shoulders. Running her fingertips over the heated satin topography of his skin, she gently explored the strong ridges and hollows, combed her nails through his chest hair, thumbed his small nipples.

With a low groan of pleasure, Gawain pulled her upright and released her nipple. “Merlin's beard, that feels good.”

Tracing the fine trail of hair down his belly, she paused just over the flushed head of his cock. “I'll bet I can make it feel even better.”

He laughed. “I'll bet you can, too.”

“Mmm.” Lark wrapped her fingers around the hard shaft. Its flushed head was already beaded with a drop of pre-come. She stroked her thumb over it and enjoyed Gawain's growl.

Inspired, she pulled away from his arms and dropped to her knees before those brawny horseman's thighs. His cock jutted at her, flushed and delightfully thick surrounded by its nest of golden curls. Hers. All hers.

Lark cupped him possessively, rolling his balls between the fingers of one hand as she stroked the other down his veined shaft. “Well, hello there,” she said to the fat dewed crown. “Would you like to play?”

“Definitely.” The laughing heat in Gawain's voice made all kinds of things draw tight low in her belly.

She grinned up at him and leaned closer, taking the velvet thrust of him into her mouth. He tasted delightfully salty, and the head of the big organ felt silken against her lips. She swirled her tongue over it and listened to him groan.

Her anxiety had drained away.
Nothing like a guy with a big dick to put everything else into perspective
. She caught his shaft by the base and angled it upward, licking along its sensitive underside as if enjoying a candy cane. He groaned, one big hand coming to rest on her head, tangling in her hair. For a moment, she stiffened, remembering Fangface's vicious grip. Then she shrugged the memory off and took Gawain's balls in her mouth, suckling gently.

“Oh, Merlin's beard, you're good at that…” he whispered, his voice choked.

Before she could try out the next erotic torment on her list, he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Want to see what
I'm
good at?” His mouth covered hers in another of those deliciously tempting kisses.

When he let her up for air, she gasped, “I've got a pretty good idea already.”

Gawain laughed darkly. “Now, that's what I like to hear.” He paused for a moment, staring at her bare breasts with hungry intensity. When he finally reached out to cup her, she let her head fall back with a sigh.

“You're beautiful,” he murmured, and tugged her nipples gently, milking them into hardening even more.

Lark lifted her head to contemplate him through shuttered lids and waves of pleasure. “You're not so bad yourself.”

Gawain grinned and slid an arm around her waist, lifting her as he leaned forward to take a nipple into his mouth again. Pleasure furled through her like a silken ribbon as he swirled his tongue around the peak.

She was all but writhing by the time he pressed her back onto the thick sawdust and went to work on her breasts in earnest. Caressing and teasing, he suckled until she fisted both hands in his hair, maddened by the sweet pleasure.

Just when she'd thought she'd explode from that alone, he began working his way down her torso in a string of teasing nibbles that let her feel the tips of his fangs. Panting, she tossed her head against the sawdust. “You're driving me insane!”

His laughter gusted against her belly button. “Good.”

“Sadist.”

“Watch how you talk to the vampire, Lark.” Settling down between her thighs, he spread them wide and lowered his head. “Or he'll have to punish you.”

“Oooh, God,” she groaned. “Be my guest!”

The first molten swipe of his tongue made her arch off the floor with a gasp. He circled her clit next, teasing it, then sucking the tight pearl into his mouth. The intensity of the pleasure made her thighs quiver.

Then he found her sex with a forefinger and slid slowly inside, and she made a helpless, high-pitched sound of pure need.

“Very nice,” Gawain murmured. “All slick and tight.” A second finger joined the first in a lazy pump. She rolled her hips pleadingly. He looked up her body into her face, anticipation hot in his eyes, and gave her another delicious pass of his tongue.

Panting, Lark hooked a bare heel over his shoulder, urging him on as he stoked her closer to orgasm with every hot move he made.

As delicious as all that felt, though, she was dying to experience that thick cock. “Any time you want to replace those fingers with something else…AH!…go right ahead.”

Green eyes met hers over the arch of her body. He smiled and thrust two fingers deep. “So I have your permission?” Another breath-stealing thrust.

“Oh! Yes, oh, God!” She squeezed her eyes closed, gasping at the ferocious pleasure.

“Don't mind if I do.” Big hands caught her by the ankles and spread her wide.

Lark's eyes flew open just in time to watch him rise over her and aim himself for her slick channel. For a moment he paused, kneeling there, his body a delicious sculpture in brawn and lust, green eyes hot. His parted lips showed the tips of his fangs.

Then he leaned down, braced a powerful forearm beside her head, and began stuffing her one slow inch at a time, working his cock in with short, delicious digs. His grin was feral and very male. “You're tight,” he purred.

“You're huge!” Lark panted and let her head fall back to the sawdust.

“Keep it up, and you'll give me a swelled head.” He pushed deeper, putting his weight behind it. “Among other things.”

Even Dominic hadn't felt anything like this. He stretched her hard, balancing her on the knife edge between pleasure and pain, until he was all the way inside.

Muscled torso pressed against her soft belly, he braced himself above her. His handsome face was intent, hungry, as he stared down into her eyes, visibly enjoying her reaction to his entry.

“Like that?” Gawain rumbled.

She lifted one leg and wrapped it around his sweat-damp waist. “Oh, God, that's an understatement.”

“Mmmmmm.” His lips curled. “It does feel like you like it.” He started withdrawing, a slick satin slide. “All wet and snug.”

She hummed, a wordless purr of approval, and rolled her hips, enjoying the stroke of his delicious cock.

The muscles of Gawain's broad chest flexed under her gaze as he began to pump, slow and lazy, a man who clearly loved making love for its own sake.

Pleasure bloomed with each long stroke, glowing brighter and brighter. Lark wrapped both legs around his waist and hooked her ankles together so she could grind up at him, chasing the orgasm that hovered just out of reach like a glowing balloon. As her need grew, she dug her nails into his shoulders, unconsciously spurring him on.

Responding to her demand, Gawain increased the force of his thrusts until he was grinding against her clit, driving that big cock to her depths in short, tormenting digs.

The orgasm she'd been chasing burst wide in a hot white explosion. She threw back her head and yowled at the delicious pulsing burn.

With a hungry growl, Gawain rolled with her so that he was on the bottom, driving his cock up into her depths. Writhing astride him, she didn't notice his hand tangling in her hair, pulling her head up.

His mouth covered the pulse beating in her throat, and she felt the sharp sting of his fangs. Shocked, she jerked, the motion driving his cock even deeper. A spurt of fear rose and she tried to pull away.

This time Gawain didn't back off, his big cock working in her depths, spilling pleasure with every thrust as he fed. Her fear died, drowned in blazing pleasure and the trust he'd worked to build. Stretched wide as his cock impaled her and his mouth suckled her throat, she could only come again, screaming hoarsely. He stiffened, his cry muffled against her neck, and came, pumping endlessly deep.

 

Panting, dazed, Lark
lay spread across Gawain's big body, listening to his thundering heartbeat slow. He arched his back, withdrawing his softening cock with a groan. She echoed it and clung to him.

Her throat ached, but like the burn in her sex, it was a good pain. “You bit me,” she murmured sleepily.

“I'm a vampire. We do that.” Then he lifted his head and examined her face, worry in his eyes. “Did I frighten you?” When she didn't answer at once, he cursed himself. “I'm sorry, I just…”

“No, it was wonderful.” She smiled at him, pleased by his concern. “I just…wasn't expecting it. I thought you were going to warn me.”

He dropped his head and stroked her hair. “If I'd warned you, you'd have convinced yourself to panic again. As it was, you were too turned on.”

Lark eyed him. “That was high-handed of you.”

He sighed. “Yes, it was. Do you mind?”

“Well,” Lark drawled, “I could turn you into a frog, but since you just gave me a mind-blowing multiple orgasm, I'll let you off with a warning.”

“Gee, thanks.”

With a silent huff of laughter, she settled back onto his chest to enjoy the sheer, sensual pleasure of lying across him. A companionable silence ticked by before he said, “Are you hungry? I feel the need to feed you again.”

Lark lifted her head and smiled at him. “You know, I think I could get used to this.”

 

Lark and Gawain
adjourned to the kitchen while she ate a lazy midnight lunch—a sandwich this time, chased by ripe strawberries he fed her one by one. They were both feeling replete when Kel interrupted.

“Gawain, we've got company at the door.”

He looked at his friend, who rode his shoulder scabbard as usual. “And they didn't call first? Who?”

“Tristan and his new apprentice.”

Lark looked up in surprise. “Wonder what he wants?”

Gawain rose from the table. “Let's find out, shall we?”

Somehow he had a feeling this wasn't a casual visit, though he and Tristan were good friends. They'd fought side by side for centuries, saved one another's lives, gotten drunk together, even shared a woman or two. As Bors had said, Tristan didn't have a high opinion of women in general; his failed romance with Isolde had left scars that had never really healed.

Something told Gawain, however, that Tristan was going to be protective of Lark. Hell, he felt protective of Lark, and he'd known her less than a day.

So he wasn't surprised when he opened the door to find his friend on the other side looking tense and uncomfortable. Beside him stood one of the most gorgeous women Gawain had ever seen in his very long life. Well over six feet tall, she had the blond Nordic beauty of a particularly lush Valkyrie. She was also icily pissed off. Those sapphire eyes were snapping.

A round of introductions revealed her name was Helen Satterwhite. She and Lark were apparently acquainted, judging from the commiserating look they exchanged.

“May I have a word?” Tristan asked, after what he apparently judged was a decent interval.

Gawain nodded, mentally bracing himself. “Of course. Tour of the garden?”

“Sounds good,” said Tristan, despite the fact he'd helped Gawain plant it.

Lark looked at Helen. “Want some coffee?”

“Love some,” the blonde said crisply. “Somehow I have the feeling this is going to be a long night.”

The two women headed for the kitchen as the Magi stepped outside. Gawain walked over to the fountain and sat down on its stone lip. After a pause, the knight joined him, looking, if anything, even more uncomfortable.

They sat listening to the falling water until Tristan finally broke the silence. “I heard you'd been assigned to mentor my great-granddaughter.”