revealing small, even white teeth. “I’ll look forward to it.”
So—Morgan was the kind of woman Gavin was interested in? She should
have known. A soft, seductive, sultry sexpot. Everything that Chloe knew
she wasn’t.
“Are you ready to leave?” Gavin asked politely, “or do you have any
questions for Morgan?”
Oh, she had questions all right, but none that she was going to ask. “No,”
she said in as neutral a voice as she could muster. Her eyes stinging, she
blinked rapidly so they wouldn’t water and turned to walk out—and bumped
straight into a bench, toppling it over and sprawling across the floor.
“Are you hurt?” Janie cried as she jumped up.
Chloe felt Gavin’s hands on her waist, lifting her up and setting her on her
feet like a small child. Morgan watched her with an amused look on her face.
Could she be any more mortified?
****
Gavin paced in his room at Smith’s mansion later that afternoon. He had the
heavy drapes closed to alleviate the sun and wondered who in the hell
Morgan was.
He was pretty sure she was human, although black magic wafted off of her.
However, it wasn’t until he’d bent to kiss her hand and had the merest brush
of her skin that he nearly recoiled. The taint of residual evil was in her blood.
Balor’s? Or someone equally as depraved? Demons still roamed this world—
Gavin sank into an overstuffed chair and, for the first time in centuries, he
willed himself to remember what had happened after Camlann.
Chaos reigned on the battlefield that day. Melwas had managed to incite a
contingent of Arthur’s men to turn against him, saying Arthur had become
soft in the twenty years of peace after Badon Hill. Arthur sent Gavin to
negotiate peace. Both armies met on the field by the River Camel, but
before the two men could move forward to speak, a soldier next to Arthur
raised his sword, which the ranks behind took as a signal to charge. The rest
was history.
Or more specifically, inaccurate history.
Gavin had seen the adder raise its head to strike causing the soldier
instinctively to wield his sword. In the aftermath of that ill-fated charge,
Gavin had also seen the adder morph into a demon who hissed sulfur and
belched smoke, making it impossible for soldiers to see whom they were
battling.
Worse, the demon had seen him. It had laughed, a gruesome sound Gavin
never wanted to hear again and sent flames from its forked tongue, searing
his shoulder, before it flapped leathery wings and rose into the blackened
sky to disappear.
After the bloodbath was over and Arthur and half his knights lay dead, Gavin
had managed to drag himself off the battlefield, seeking refuge in the nearby
forest.
And it was there that the lady found him, mortally wounded and near death
himself. At first, Gavin had thought he was dead for he no longer had feeling
in his arms or legs. And the young woman who crooned over him in a
language he did not understand was beautiful with alabaster skin, silky
ebony hair and eyes that were almost as black. He had stared into those
fathomless eyes, hardly aware that she’d bitten her wrist and was offering
him her blood to drink. It tasted like the sweetest ambrosia he’d ever had
and oblivion swept over him. When he awoke, five hundred years later, he
was in a cave deep inside the earth, alone and with a terrific thirst for
human blood.
He never did know who had made him or how he’d been transported to
Outreamer, for that was where he was when he finally surfaced.
Gavin snapped out of his reverie. All that had happened fifteen hundred
years ago. It had sickened him to kill humans, even if he did limit himself to
the thieves, bandits, and highwaymen who lured others to their fates. He’d
never expected to meet Lancelot in Outremer.
They’d nearly killed each other that first night on the streets of Jerusalem.
Lancelot—or Lucas as he was calling himself, had been in his wolf form
hunting meat since the
So—Morgan was the kind of woman Gavin was interested in? She should
have known. A soft, seductive, sultry sexpot. Everything that Chloe knew
she wasn’t.
“Are you ready to leave?” Gavin asked politely, “or do you have any
questions for Morgan?”
Oh, she had questions all right, but none that she was going to ask. “No,”
she said in as neutral a voice as she could muster. Her eyes stinging, she
blinked rapidly so they wouldn’t water and turned to walk out—and bumped
straight into a bench, toppling it over and sprawling across the floor.
“Are you hurt?” Janie cried as she jumped up.
Chloe felt Gavin’s hands on her waist, lifting her up and setting her on her
feet like a small child. Morgan watched her with an amused look on her face.
Could she be any more mortified?
****
Gavin paced in his room at Smith’s mansion later that afternoon. He had the
heavy drapes closed to alleviate the sun and wondered who in the hell
Morgan was.
He was pretty sure she was human, although black magic wafted off of her.
However, it wasn’t until he’d bent to kiss her hand and had the merest brush
of her skin that he nearly recoiled. The taint of residual evil was in her blood.
Balor’s? Or someone equally as depraved? Demons still roamed this world—
Gavin sank into an overstuffed chair and, for the first time in centuries, he
willed himself to remember what had happened after Camlann.
Chaos reigned on the battlefield that day. Melwas had managed to incite a
contingent of Arthur’s men to turn against him, saying Arthur had become
soft in the twenty years of peace after Badon Hill. Arthur sent Gavin to
negotiate peace. Both armies met on the field by the River Camel, but
before the two men could move forward to speak, a soldier next to Arthur
raised his sword, which the ranks behind took as a signal to charge. The rest
was history.
Or more specifically, inaccurate history.
Gavin had seen the adder raise its head to strike causing the soldier
instinctively to wield his sword. In the aftermath of that ill-fated charge,
Gavin had also seen the adder morph into a demon who hissed sulfur and
belched smoke, making it impossible for soldiers to see whom they were
battling.
Worse, the demon had seen him. It had laughed, a gruesome sound Gavin
never wanted to hear again and sent flames from its forked tongue, searing
his shoulder, before it flapped leathery wings and rose into the blackened
sky to disappear.
After the bloodbath was over and Arthur and half his knights lay dead, Gavin
had managed to drag himself off the battlefield, seeking refuge in the nearby
forest.
And it was there that the lady found him, mortally wounded and near death
himself. At first, Gavin had thought he was dead for he no longer had feeling
in his arms or legs. And the young woman who crooned over him in a
language he did not understand was beautiful with alabaster skin, silky
ebony hair and eyes that were almost as black. He had stared into those
fathomless eyes, hardly aware that she’d bitten her wrist and was offering
him her blood to drink. It tasted like the sweetest ambrosia he’d ever had
and oblivion swept over him. When he awoke, five hundred years later, he
was in a cave deep inside the earth, alone and with a terrific thirst for
human blood.
He never did know who had made him or how he’d been transported to
Outreamer, for that was where he was when he finally surfaced.
Gavin snapped out of his reverie. All that had happened fifteen hundred
years ago. It had sickened him to kill humans, even if he did limit himself to
the thieves, bandits, and highwaymen who lured others to their fates. He’d
never expected to meet Lancelot in Outremer.
They’d nearly killed each other that first night on the streets of Jerusalem.
Lancelot—or Lucas as he was calling himself, had been in his wolf form
hunting meat since the
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