Master of Seduction (Merlin’s Legacy 1)

Angela Knight

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Copyright ©2017 Angela Knight

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Editor: Margaret Riley
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

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Table of Contents

Master of Seduction (Merlin’s Legacy 1)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Angela Knight

Master of Seduction (Merlin’s Legacy 1)

Angela Knight

All her life, Sheriff’s Deputy Rachel Kent has dreamed of becoming one of the immortal Magekind witches who protect humanity from itself. But first she must prove herself to the handsome vampire whose job it is to decide whether she’ll become a danger to those she’s supposed to save.

Nathaniel Allard is a Court Seducer who has been sent to trigger Rachel’s witchy transformation by making love to her three times. The problem is, gaining such incredible powers may drive Rachel insane and force Nathaniel to kill her. Otherwise she may kill him -- and anyone else who gets in her way.

Nate vows he’ll only agree to complete Rachel’s transformation if she proves she can be trusted with the powers she’ll gain. But as he tests her -- and makes love to her with every test she passes -- mutual lust becomes something more. Will love be enough to save Rachel’s sanity?

Chapter One

Deputy Rachel Kent ran flat out, though her ribs ached with every stride, every breath. The bullet had left a bruise on her chest the size of a silver dollar.

Still better than being dead.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, but it wasn’t entirely dark yet as she pounded down the two-lane rural road. Shadows gathered in the thick woods on either side of the blacktop, and the sky overhead purpled as the last of the sunlight bled away.

Sweat slicked Rachel’s skin, gluing the T-shirt to her heaving ribs and rolling down her legs as her feet hit the pavement. Normally she liked to do her running at dawn this time of year, before the July sun made South Carolina’s humidity even more miserable. That wasn’t an option tonight. She needed to exhaust herself. Otherwise she’d lie awake for hours, looking for a way she could have avoided killing Don Gordon.

So far, Rachel hadn’t thought of one. Not if she hadn’t wanted to watch him murder his wife and daughters. Yet every time she closed her eyes, she heard Emily’s heartbroken scream, “Daddy, daddy, daddy!”

Daddy tried to blow your brains out, sweetheart.

The moment flashed through her head yet again: Don turning his gun on his wife as Eileen huddled against the wall, trying to shield their kids. Rachel had been too far from him or his victims to reach either, so she’d stepped between them. It was the first time she’d fired her Glock in the line of duty. The two guns boomed almost simultaneously.

The impact of Don’s bullet hitting her Kevlar vest felt like a baseball bat to the sternum. She’d fallen to one knee, fighting to breathe.

When she looked up, Don lay on his back a few feet away, staring up at the ceiling as the life drained from his eyes. The neat hole in the center of his chest barely had time to bleed before his heart stopped.

Daddy, daddy, daddy!

It wasn’t killing Don that bothered her. He was an abusive asshat she’d taken to jail three times in six months. Two of those times, his wife had ended up in the ER. His death had greatly improved his family’s collective life expectancy.

No, what bothered Rachel was giving four-year-old Emily a memory that would haunt her for life.

Cut it out. You’re wallowing.

Unfortunately, trying to repress her growing obsession only strengthened it. Rachel knew she had to get her mind on something else. Even the ache of her chest made a useful distraction. Which was why she was pushing so hard when bruised ribs made a three-mile run borderline stupid.

Rachel took a left into the apartment complex that had been home for the past three years. Four long buildings stood on either side of the street, sheathed in cream vinyl siding and surrounded by neat green hedges.

Breathing hard, she slowed to a walk as she turned into her unit’s parking lot. And stopped to mutter a curse. Two boxy trucks stood in front of the building, each topped by a satellite dish.

News vans. Great. Just great.

I am not in the mood for this. And not exactly camera ready either, given the sweat that glued her shorts and T-shirt to her skin. Bending over, Rachel braced her hands against her knees and fought to get her breathing under control. Her ponytail flopped against her cheek, damp from the run.

She’d be tempted to walk away, but she knew both crews would still be staking out her building when she returned. Besides, Gee would disown her. Kents don’t run from anything, kid.

When she thought she could speak without gasping, Rachel straightened and rolled her shoulders back. Ignoring her aching ribs, she headed for the red awning that shaded the building’s door.

The news crews stood in a little cluster, chatting in the bored way of people on a stakeout. Catching sight of her, the videographers pivoted to aim their cameras in her direction as the reporters went on point like bird dogs.

Until they got a good look. Judging by their disappointed expressions, she wasn’t who they were expecting. Probably didn’t recognize her from her Sheriff’s Office photo. Yeah, let’s see you look spit-and-polish after a run in this heat.

But just as she was hoping she could sneak past, the female reporter brightened and stepped into Rachel’s path. She looked like an ex-Miss South Carolina -- blonde, toothy, and the proud owner of two miles of leg. “Deputy Kent? Debbie Rice, WTAY News. People are saying you’re a hero since Amy Gordon’s video went viral. What can you tell us about that night?” With a toothpaste-ad smile, she tilted her mic toward Rachel.

Why in the hell did Amy have to live-stream the whole thing on Facebook? But Rachel knew why. The kid had thought whipping out her phone would keep Don from beating her mother -- again.

Nope.

“I did what the taxpayers pay me to do. Excuse me, I need a shower.” She pushed past, amused as Rice recoiled from her sweaty, smelly self with a murmur of disgust.

Debbie’s big African-American rival wasn’t so easily put off. He shouldered in and stuck his mic in her face. “Darren Mayfield, WACN. Eileen Gordon said you deliberately stepped between them and her husband’s gun. Weren’t you afraid he’d kill you?”

“I was wearing Kevlar. They weren’t.”

“Which wouldn’t have saved you if he’d shot you in the head.”

“No.” She dodged around him and edged a few steps closer to the door.

Debbie flashed those teeth and hip-checked Mayfield out of the way. “Would you be willing to grant an interview?”

“You’ll need to take that up with the department’s Public Information Officer.” She fished in her shorts pocket for her keys.

“It was obviously a justified shooting. Does it bother you they put you on leave anyway?”

“Nope. It’s departmental policy.” The brass didn’t really question her actions, but they did think any cop involved in even a justified shooting needed a few sessions with a shrink before going back to work. Given her nightmares, it was probably a good idea. Not that she’d share that little tidbit with this flock of vultures.

“Deputy…”

Having sidled to the door while they were distracted, she quickly unlocked it, stepped in, and closed it in their collective faces. Leaning against the door, she breathed out in sheer relief.

Someone knocked. “Deputy! Deputy Kent, do you…”

Ignoring them, Rachel headed up the two flights of stairs to unlock her apartment door, slip inside…

And damn near jumped out of her skin.

“There you are! I was getting ready to send out a search party.” Grinning, the woman sprang up from the rust sectional couch. Tall and model-slim, she wore skinny taupe trousers with a pair of black stilettos. A sleeveless black blouse bared lean arms and an inch of flat belly. Honey blond curls tumbled around her shoulders, artfully streaked with paler gold, and her blue-gray eyes gleamed clever in a heart-shaped face.

She sure as hell didn’t look like anybody’s great-great-great-great grandmother.

“Hello, Gee.” Despite her exhaustion, Rachel’s smile was genuine. Like the rest of the Kent clan, she adored her witchy ancestor.

Ignoring her drying sweat, Oriana Kent swooped in for a hug that smelled of exotic flowers and the ozone tang of lightning. “You really made me proud, kiddo. That jerk would have killed his whole family if not for you.”

“Thanks.” Spotting something dark looming from the corner of one eye, Rachel turned.

The man leaned a muscular shoulder against the gas fireplace’s tiny mantle, one dark brow lifted in sardonic amusement. He towered over them both, broad shouldered in a black knit shirt that bared powerful biceps and corded forearms. Black jeans, faded in all the right places, drew the eye to muscular legs. His sable hair was barely long enough to curl, and a goatee framed his erotic mouth, lending a little scruff to the striking contours of his angular face. Somewhere a GQ cover is missing its model, Rachel thought.

Then she saw his eyes, and her amusement vanished like a popped soap bubble. Those blue irises were dark and cold as a polar sea, assessing and predatory.

Which is when it hit her he wasn’t Gee’s boy toy. Oh God, he’s a Magus.

An agent of the Magekind.

A vampire.

When Rachel’s eyes widened in awe, a half smile crooked one corner of his goatee in cynical amusement. “Don’t you think you’d better introduce us, Oriana?”

Gee shot him a Mind your manners glare Rachel recognized from childhood. “Rachel, this is Nathan Allard. He’s a Magekind Court Seducer.” Despite her obvious irritation with him, a radiant smile spread over her face. “The Majae’s Counsel has approved your Gifting!”

Rachel’s jaw dropped as her eyes darted back to the big man. “Oh. Wow.” Eloquent, Kent. Way to sound like an idiot. She tried to come up with something more intelligent, but the best she could do was a hoarse, “Thank you. Excuse me, I’m a little… stunned.” Mechanically, she held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Allard.”

Nathan’s hand enveloped hers with long, strong fingers and a warm palm, rough with calluses. “Call me Nathan.” His remarkable eyes took on a glint of humor, turning the Arctic to sunlit blue. “Court Seducers aren’t big on formality.”

Rachel blinked up at him, feeling a little dizzy, as if she’d stepped into the middle of a dream. God, I’m supposed to make love to him? “I… can see that.” She swallowed and tried for sophistication. “I’m open to informality.” That sounded a lot less lame in my head.

Oriana eyed her, her expression darkening with maternal worry. “Are you all right? You look like hell.”

“It’s been a rough couple of days, Gee.” She forced a smile. “Look, I need to get a shower. I probably smell like a goat.”

The Maja lifted a graceful hand, a precursor to one of those sweeping gestures she used to cast spells. “I can fix that.”

Rachel took an instinctive step back. “Thanks, but I need a minute. I’m a little off balance.”

“But…”

“Let Rachel take her shower.” The vampire gave her a long, perceptive stare. “You don’t feel as clean from magic.”

“Thanks. Give me fifteen minutes.” Get your shit together, Kent.

“Of course, dear. And after that, Nathan and I will take you to dinner in Avalon.”

Rachel’s brows shot up. When she’d been a kid, she and her sister and cousins used to beg to visit the magical capital. Gee had always turned them down. “Sorry, kids, if I tried to lead a mortal tour group through town, Morgana Le Fay would turn us all into frogs.”

This is real. Rachel’s gaze slid to the vampire. He’s going to Gift me. And he’ll have to sleep with me to do it. If it went well, she’d become an immortal witch with fantastic abilities.

If it went badly…

“Sounds great,” she rasped, and started down the short hallway into the bedroom.

“Wear something loose enough to exercise in.” Nathan said, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. “I’m going to put you through your paces.”

“Sure.” Rachel shut the door, wondering whether she should be more terrified or turned on.

* * *

Nathan Allard waited until the shower started running. “I told you we should give her another week to settle down. The first time you have to kill messes with your head.”

“She can handle it,” Oriana said, all stubborn confidence.

“We’ll see.” He prowled around the room, examining the furniture and knickknacks. You could learn a lot about someone from the things they surrounded themselves with, knowledge he found invaluable in establishing a rapport with his Latents. Otherwise being a Court Seducer could feel like whoring, regardless of the higher goals it served.

Rachel’s apartment was small, no surprise given the salary of a sheriff’s deputy in Tayunita County, SC. It was also as neat as a monk’s cell, its walls painted eggshell white, with the kind of thin beige carpeting common to apartment complexes. Besides the sectional, the furniture consisted of a square coffee table and a long bookcase, both built of black laminate that suggested she’d bought them at Target.

Nathan’s attention fell on the painting that hung over the sectional. A woman’s arm thrust from the surface of a lake at nightfall, a sword raining magical sparks over her graceful hand as she held it aloft. A few feet away, a bearded man in plate armor crouched in the water wearing an expression of awe.

King Arthur receiving Excalibur from Nimue.

Like most Arthurian legend, the story was complete bullshit. Rachel obviously knew that, yet she’d bought the painting anyway. Kid must have a romantic streak.

He wandered over to the bookcase. Double rows of dog-eared paperbacks filled the shelves, wedged into place with trophies from martial arts tournaments and shooting contests. Evidently the girl had a competitive streak to go with the taste for romance -- and a hell of a lot of practical training. Oriana had been serious about making sure her descendants could handle themselves in a fight.

“By the way,” the witch said tartly, “Would you please quit looking at her as if she’s someone you may have to execute?”

“She is.” Though God knew he had no desire to do so. Rachel was lovely, with big honey brown eyes under arched chestnut brows, a long narrow nose, and a certain cool strength to her oval, high-cheekboned face. She’d pulled her dark, curling hair into a messy tail that swung like a restless cat’s when she moved. Even in a sweaty blue T-shirt and shorts, her long-legged body and full breasts made his dick sit up and take notice.

“Merlin’s Gift is not going to drive Rachel insane,” the witch snapped. “She’s too disciplined and intelligent.”

“That’s not your call. It’s mine. If I see any indication she isn’t suitable, I’m pulling the plug.”

Oriana’s gray eyes went glacial with warning. “The Majae’s Council agreed with me that she’s an excellent candidate.”

“Yeah, well, the Council doesn’t have to deal with the fallout if this goes sideways. Rachel’s going to damn well prove herself before I so much as kiss her.”

“I don’t deny we’ve made mistakes, but she’s not one of them.”

“It’s not a mistake when somebody dies. It’s a fuck up.” Christine had been a fuckup -- and not just the Council’s. The ultimate responsibility was his, because he hadn’t recognized the problem in time to keep his dick out of her.

“Gifting Rachel is not a fuck up,” Oriana told him impatiently. “Look, Nate, I’m the last one who wants to lose that child.” She rose from the sectional, radiating enough magical menace to lift the hair on the back of his neck. “But if I find out that you refused to Gift her without good reason, you’re going to regret it.”

He gave her glare for glare. “You do what you have to do. And so will I.”

* * *

Rachel poured a handful of shampoo into her palm and started washing her hair under the warm, pounding stream of the shower. Her stomach felt tight with a combination of excitement and anxiety. They chose me. I’m going to get Merlin’s Gift. I’m going to become a Maja.

She could barely believe it.

To most people, Merlin, King Arthur, and the Knights of the Round Table were nothing but misty legends from the fifth century. The ancient stories got most of the details wrong, but they all had a kernel of truth. For example, the real Merlin hadn’t been an elderly Druid magician.

He’d been an alien.

His people, the Fae, were a race of star-faring magic users who’d discovered the galaxy’s intelligent species tended to wipe themselves out through war or ecological disaster. Hoping to prevent more mass extinctions, the Fae chose guardians from among each species they encountered, training and empowering them to help their worlds survive.

When Merlin came to Earth in 450 AD, King Arthur, his knights and their ladies were among those he considered for the job of guardians. Those who passed Merlin’s battery of tests were permitted to drink a potion from his enchanted Grail.

The potion transformed them into Magekind, with the men becoming Magi -- vampires -- and the women, Majae, or witches.

Mission accomplished, Merlin went on to the next world, leaving Arthur and his people to fight for the survival of humanity.

Because the potion altered their genetics, the Magekind passed Merlin’s Gift down to their descendants, the Latents. Unfortunately, suddenly gaining magical abilities could drive susceptible people insane. To give the agents a chance to vet candidates, the Gift had to be triggered by a member of the Magekind. If the spell was never triggered, Latents lived and died as ordinary mortals.

Very, very few made the cut.

And now I’m one of them, Rachel thought, feeling dazed.

Just like Oriana, who’d been one of Sir Percival’s many bastards. The immortal Knights of the Round Table evidently did not practice birth control.

Gee had been a Maja for the better part of three hundred years now. A century ago, she’d gone on the Mageverse version of maternity leave, taking twenty-two years off to raise three children on Mortal Earth. You didn’t rear mortal kids among the immortals of Avalon, since it wasn’t good for their mental health.

In the decades that followed, Oriana had urged her descendants to seek lives of service even if they were never chosen for the Gift. As a result, members of the Kent family had fought in every American war of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. They’d also been police officers, firefighters, doctors and nurses, even government agents.

Still, the ultimate Kent goal was to become Magekind. Most of the clan had never been considered, despite their dedication and hard work. Rachel had no idea why the Majae’s Council had picked her.

I need to tell Mom. She’ll be over the moon.

And probably scared out of her mind, because if Rachel failed this test, she could end up insane.

Worse, she’d have the power to make every lethal impulse reality. The thought of it made her feel a little sick.

Daddy, daddy, daddy…

That’s not helping. And I’m running out of time. Dragging her mind out of the dark spiral that was becoming habit, Rachel stepped out of the shower and toweled off. She hurried to the tiny mirror over the sink, dug out her makeup kit, and went to work on her face. One eye on the clock, she blow-dried her hair, made strategic use of a curling iron, then headed for her tiny bedroom closet.

She hadn’t felt this damn nervous staring down the barrel of Don’s gun.

Nathan had told her to wear something she could work out in. Wonder what kind of workout he has in mind? And does he take requests?

Aaaand I’m running out of time.

Rachel pulled on a snug red cotton tank over a pair of black leggings, then slid her feet into black flats. Contemplating her reflection, she sighed. Well, at least I don’t look desperate to impress.

Of course, she was desperate to impress, but that was beside the point.

Firmly squelching her nerves, she walked into the living room to find Oriana fidgeting on the sectional. In contrast to her earlier joy, Gee looked wired, even a little pissed.

The court seducer was on his feet in front of the bookcase, a paperback in one big hand. Glimpsing the cover and finding it all too familiar, Rachel felt her cheeks flame. Vampire Trinity.

Great. Juuuust great. He’d discovered her collection of erotic romances. Lately, those books had been as close as she came to getting laid.

Without looking up from the book, the vampire said, “You’re three minutes late.”

Rachel bit back a flustered excuse. She’d known she was taking too much time on her makeup. “You’re right, of course. My apologies.”

“Don’t be an ass, Nathan,” Oriana said, as she rose to her feet.

At that he looked up, his gaze narrow, a muscle flexing in the corner of his jaw. Ignoring him, Gee made one of those theatrical gestures of hers. The scent of ozone filled the air like smoke.

A glowing point appeared in midair, expanding rapidly into a wavering doorway that looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Which is basically what it was: a dimensional gate to the magical city of Avalon. Rachel had seen Gee conjure gates any number of times over the years, but she’d never used one herself.

“Come on, kiddo,” Oriana said, gesturing at the opening. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

“Okay.” Rachel squared her shoulders and stepped through the gate. As she passed through, an indescribable sensation rolled over her skin, making every hair on her body rise.

The feel of Oriana’s magic.

She found herself in a long, arched room floored with Italian marble in shades of umber, gold and cream. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling between thick wooden beams, shedding gold light and glints of rainbow reflections from long crystal pendants.

Stained glass windows lined the plaster walls. Glowing in brilliant colors from the house’s exterior spotlights, each depicted a different scene from Arthurian legend. Beautifully upholstered chairs and couches stood in conversational groupings, their oak frames intricately carved and gleaming. “Oh,” Rachel breathed, staring around the sitting room in awe. “This is gorgeous!”

“Thanks.” Oriana strolled through the gate, Nathan following her like a dark shadow. “It’s not as grand as some, but it’s not exactly a single-wide either.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Rachel moved to study a figurine of a woman in armor standing on a side table. It appeared to be solid gold. “This looks like something from an art museum.”

“Oriana is a magpie,” Nathan observed dryly. “If it’s shiny, she swoops down on it and carries it off to her nest.”

“Better than living in an armory like that pile of yours,” Oriana told him.

These two knew each other. Knew each other well. And why does that thought make me feel a little jealous? Rachel wondered. And am I jealous of his friendship with her -- or hers with him?

“Come along, dear.” Gee headed for a doorway at the other end of the room. “I was cooking all afternoon. I want to celebrate.”

“You cook?” Rachel followed her down a corridor lined with paintings. One of them looked suspiciously like a Michelangelo. “I figured you just conjured.”

“Oriana is considered one of the best cooks among the Magekind.”

Rachel dared a mischievous smile at him. “How would you know? Vampires don’t eat.”

He grinned with such charm, she blinked. “I’ve heard rumors.”

Rachel expected the dining room to look like something out of Beauty and the Beast, but it turned out to be more intimate than that, designed for eight rather than eighty. Even so, the table fairly groaned under the weight of a feast of Thanksgiving proportions. Among the dishes were several of her favorites, all steaming gently.

“It looks delicious, Gee.” But probably wasted. She doubted she’d be able to eat a bite with her stomach coiled in its current nervous knot.

Moving with the automatic courtesy of another age, Nathan moved to pull out the chair at the head of the table for Oriana. Rachel waited for him to seat her, too, knowing Gee’s attitudes about gentlemen and ladies. Hand-to-hand combat wasn’t the only thing the witch had taught her.

But when he stepped up behind Rachel, a ripple of pure sensual awareness rolled down her spine. There was something about all that alpha male presence that made her feel keyed up and juiced.

Rachel sat, then watched him stride to the place opposite hers, his big body moving with a fluid, athletic ease. As Oriana began pointing out the dishes, Nathan picked up the elegant bottle that sat by his elbow, plucked out the cork without the use of a bottle opener, and poured something dark red into a cut crystal glass. It didn’t look like wine. “What’s that?”

He gave her a dark smile. “You wouldn’t like it. It’s a very nice Chateau Oriana.”

When Rachel frowned in confusion, Gee explained dryly, “My blood. I bottle it magically for vampire guests.”

Okaaay. Though she supposed it made sense. Oriana had told her Majae needed to donate their blood as badly as Magi needed to drink it. Otherwise their blood pressure would shoot too high, and they could suffer strokes, even fatal aneurisms. Apparently Merlin had designed the two Magekind sexes to be interdependent.

As Nathan took another sip, Rachel’s gaze fell to his big, scarred hands. Interesting, those scars. They must date back to his life before he became a vampire; any injuries suffered afterwards would have long since healed.

His gaze flicked up, apparently noticing her interest in the pale lines. “I was a professional duelist when I was mortal, back during the Renaissance. Even with gloves, the hands take a beating.”

“That was a job?”

He shook his head. “Don’t they educate kids at all anymore?”

Stung, Rachel worked to hide her irritation. “Actually, I did well in history.”

Oriana looked up from filling her plate with thin slices of rare beef. “Nate, if you don’t quit being an ass, you’re going to find yourself with really long ears.”

“And deprive Rachel of my tongue?” He arched a sardonic eyebrow.

“He’s not usually like this,” Oriana told her, eyeing him with disfavor. “I don’t know what his problem is, but if he doesn’t solve it, he’s going to find himself looking like a cast member from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“That was a play,” he explained to Rachel, his tone elaborately helpful.

“Now that you mention it,” Rachel said through her teeth, “there is a certain resemblance between him and Nick Bottom.”

“Ah, she does read.” His lips curled up. “Something other than Vampire Trinity.”

Rachel stiffened as her temper went up in flames. Enough’s enough. “Look, I may have to fuck you, but that doesn’t give you the right to abuse me.”

There went that dark brow again. “Given your taste in reading material, I’d think you’d like that.”

She studied him in baffled fury. “Are you trying to goad me?”

“And I seem to be succeeding, not that it’s taking much effort.” He sat back in his chair, hooking a muscled arm over the back of it. “For future reference, Majae need better self-control. You don’t want to kill someone because you lost your temper.”

“I’ve been a cop for three years. I’ve dealt with more than my share of drunks, idiots, and assholes, all of whom thought I was fair game simply because I’m both a cop and a woman. My self-control is fine.”

“Three whole years. My. That many?”

Which was when Rachel remembered he was four hundred years old. She clamped her teeth shut, realizing he was right -- she had lost control. She usually maintained a tighter grip over herself.

“Keep it up, Nate, and you’ll be braying to go along with the ears,” Oriana told him, thoroughly irritated.

The vampire ignored her. “Let’s get one thing straight.” He rose to his feet and leaned across the table until his face was inches from Rachel’s. His eyes snapped blue flame. “I don’t have to fuck you. I’m not going to give you the Gift until I’m convinced you can use the power wisely. And at the moment, I’m not impressed.”

“That’s. Enough.” Oriana snapped. “You are not the only Court Seducer in Avalon. If you consider the job so distasteful, I’ll find someone else.”

“You didn’t give me this assignment, Oriana. Arthur did. And he’s the only one who can take me off it. I accepted it, and I’m going to use my best judgment whether you like it or not.”

Oriana hesitated, as if recalibrating her argument. “Nate, we need her. The Council’s conclusion was that she’ll make an excellent agent. She can be trusted.”

“That’s not the question. The question is, can she survive the Gift?” He turned to Rachel, who sat frozen, wondering exactly when the conversation had gone to hell. “Look, I don’t doubt you’re a good kid. You’ve got guts. You proved that when you stepped between Gordon’s bullet and his daughters. But it doesn’t matter how good you are if the Gift burns out your sanity. If it does, it’ll be my job to put you down like a rabid dog. Are you sure the risk is worth it?”

Rachel stared up at him. “I…” She broke off. The fact was, he had a point.

“Yeah, think about it. You need to think about it hard. Because even if the Gift doesn’t go bad on you, that’s not going to be the end of it. You’re going to end up fighting and killing. You’re going to end up watching everyone you love die. Not only your mother and father, but your sister and your nieces and your nephews.”

“I… don’t have any nieces and nephews.”

“You will. And if you have kids, you’ll watch them die, too, if they’re not chosen to get the Gift. I lost four of mine to old age, three others to smallpox, two to cholera and one to murder. Why do you think Oriana’s so determined to secure immortality for one of her children’s descendants? Because all her kids died and you’re all that’s left of them. That’s a wound that never heals.”

“Yes, I’ll admit that’s a factor.” Oriana leaned toward her, voice low and intense. “But it’s also true that you’re needed. Morgana Le Fay and Gwen both have had visions, and they agree there’s something nasty on the way. Something every bit as bad as Warlock or the Dark Ones, or any of the other bastards we fought in the last decade.” There was something so coldly desperate in Gee’s normally warm gaze, Rachel felt a chill. “That’s why we’re recruiting. Magekind agents are going to die, and the world trembles on the edge of chaos. You can make a difference in this fight.”

“Maybe,” Nathan said softly. “Or maybe you’ll end up cannon fodder. Maybe you’ll end up insane, and I’ll have to put you down. Make damn sure you want to risk both possibilities before you say yes.”

Rachel’s first impulse was to drop her eyes from his hard gaze, but she knew that would be a mistake. If she showed him any vulnerability at all, he’d keep pounding it. So instead she let her attention dip to his mouth.

Damn, his lips are downright erotic. Abruptly she realized she was almost painfully aware of him: his height, his broad shoulders, those big, scarred hands. What would it be like to make love to him?

No, not make love. He was a Court Seducer. Screwing women into the Gift was what he did. This will never lead anywhere or mean anything to him. It’s only a fuck. Rachel raised her chin. “If I wanted to live forever, I wouldn’t have stepped in front of a bullet two days ago.” She turned to Oriana. “I’ve never wanted to be anything but Magekind. Not for the power, not for the immortality -- to make a difference. Lately it feels like this entire damn planet is balanced on a knife blade over hell. If I can help stave off the fall, that’s a chance worth taking.”

Nathan sat back in his chair with a grunt of disgust. “Jesu, you did a good job brainwashing this kid.”

Oriana snorted. “You know, the asshole act would be more convincing if you hadn’t spent the past four centuries trying to save the world.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, it needed saving.”

Chapter Two

Somehow they got through the rest of the meal without things getting any more heated. Rachel felt all too aware of Nathan’s brooding gaze as he worked his way through the bottle of Oriana’s blood. There was something about that dark stare that made her skin feel too tight.

Especially her nipples. She sneaked a downward glance to check whether they were as hard as they felt… Oh. Yeah. Crap. But he was so damned male. Those Arctic eyes made her acutely aware of her mouth, her breasts, her… everything.

Well, at least it’s been an hour since I’ve even thought about that damned shooting. She sipped from her glass of wine. Maybe I’ll even be able to sleep. Though she’d have to do it in the morning…

“Are you done?” Nathan asked at last. “It’s getting late.”

Rachel looked down at her empty plate, where one hand fiddled restlessly with her fork. She put the utensil down. “Yes.”

“Good. We’ve got only a few hours until sunrise, and I’d like to get started.”

On what? Rachel suspected her eyes were little bit too wide.

Nathan turned to Oriana. “Did you get those circlets finished?”

Gee nodded and rose. “Of course. I’ll go get them.” She hurried out.

“What circlets?” Rachel asked cautiously, not sure she liked the sound of that.

“They’re magical devices we use in training. I had her program them with a couple of new scenarios.”

“What, like a video game?”

“Video games are primitive compared to these. They simulate situations we’ve encountered in the field. I asked Oriana to create an illusion that you have magical abilities. Watching what you do with those powers will give me a chance to evaluate your judgment.”

Rachel nodded. “Oh yeah, I did something similar at the Academy during training.” Called ‘shoot-don’t shoot’ scenarios, the equipment projected video of training situations on a long screen. She’d had to determine whether to shoot a laser pistol at images depicting either bad guys or innocent bystanders. If you chose wrong, you got shot -- or “killed” some poor sucker who’d only pulled out a cell phone.

Rachel had done well in those tests, but she knew that might mean precisely zip when it came to whatever Nathan had in mind.

“I suspect you’ll find the Avalon version a little more challenging. We fought some pretty weird crap a decade or so ago. Demons, giant bears, an enormous snake the length of a bus.” He grimaced as if in a particularly nasty memory.

Rachel stared at him. “I thought you guys fought people like Nazis and assorted witch-burning assholes.”

“We did, for most of our history, but we went through a very bad stretch in the mid-2000s. A demonic alien escaped from a prison Merlin locked him in centuries ago. He caused all sorts of chaos even after we killed him, thanks to his assorted nasty followers. It took a long time to clean up that mess, and we’re still dealing with the fallout.”

“Oriana didn’t mention any of that.”

“She damn well better not have. That crap was ‘I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you’ stuff.” He shook his head. “If you think being Magekind means you’ll always be ridiculously overpowered compared to the normal humans you fight, think again. And it’s important to remember that even when we do fight normal humans, they’ve got us outnumbered millions to one.”

Rachel opened her mouth to question him further, but then Oriana walked back in. She handed Nathan a flat wooden box. “As requested. One headset for her, one for you, both loaded with those scenarios you wanted. But be advised -- they also record, and I will be double checking the results.” Judging by her glower, she’d better agree with any conclusions he drew.

Gee gave Rachel a look that was considerably warmer. “If you need me, don’t hesitate to call. When you decide to head home for the day, I’ll be happy to open a gate back to your apartment.”

A new thought occurred to Rachel. “How? This is the Mageverse. I’m pretty sure Verizon doesn’t have a cell tower in Avalon.” She bit her lip. “Damn, I hope nobody from the Sheriff’s Office called while I was here.”

Oriana held out a hand. “Give me your cell, and I’ll enchant it.”

She obeyed. Gee took it and closed her eyes. The ozone tang of magic stung Rachel’s nose, though she didn’t actually see anything. A moment later, the witch handed the phone back. “Don’t worry, you didn’t miss any calls from the department.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Nathan stood. “If that’s all…”

He headed out. Rachel got up to follow him, but Gee grabbed her forearm. “If you need me, I’m here.”

“You always have been.”

Nathan stopped at the door to shoot them an impatient look. “If you ladies don’t mind, we have a lot to get done before dawn.”

“Bye, Gee.” She hurried after his broad, black-clad back as he strode through the house.

They emerged through an intricately carved door onto stone steps that led down to a cobblestone drive. Rachel glanced up at the night sky -- and stared, her jaw dropping. Alien constellations spilled overhead in a river of light brighter than any stars she’d ever seen back home. The sky was dominated by a swirl of iridescent light she knew must be a nearby nebula. A quarter moon hung in the cloudless sky, spilling pearlescent light over the clusters of trees and elaborate flowerbeds that filled the lawn.

I’m really not on Earth anymore.

This was the Mageverse -- a parallel dimension where magic was a law of physics, making this universe’s Earth a much different place than the one where she’d been born.

“Are you coming?” Nathan demanded, turning to look at her from halfway down the drive.

“Oh. Yeah.” As she hurried in his wake, she stared around in dazzled awe. Buildings from a hundred different times, countries and architectural styles stood together: French chateaus like Oriana’s, honest-to-Arthur castles, Federalist and Georgian architecture, plantation houses, Italianate mansions. The street was cobblestone, and huge marble fountains stood here and there, surrounded by topiary and filling the night with the gentle splash and murmur of falling water.

“Oh wow,” she said softly.

Nathan chuckled. For once, there was no mockery in his voice. “Witch ego in action.”

“What?”

He gestured at one particularly impressive Gilded Age manse. “Everything you see was created by witches, either separately or acting in groups. But the idea is basically to show off. The bigger the building, the older and more powerful the Maja -- at least most of the time. The really old Majae consider this kind of thing a little vulgar, because they don’t have to prove anything to anybody. After all, if you’ve been Magekind for 1500 years, everybody knows you’re a heavy hitter.”

Even more awed, she eyed the Gothic stone spires and massive walls. “So… I’ll be able to conjure something like that?”

The humor fell from his eyes. “Assuming you survive the Gift -- and I give it to you.”

He was starting to piss her off. “Look, I’ll survive. This is what I trained for from the time I was a child. Oriana did not go easy on us. Yes, I do understand what the price of being a Maja may be. Gee never sugarcoated anything.”

His sensual mouth flattened. “Then why are you the first Kent in two generations to be offered the Gift? It’s not because we didn’t need the personnel. It’s because the Majae’s Council concluded the others would have gone mad. Oriana submitted name after name for consideration, but they were all turned down.”

She stared at him. “You mean my mother… ? My aunt… ?”

“Weren’t approved. The fact is, the majority of Latents wouldn’t be able to survive the Gift -- and there are a hell of a lot of people carrying that spell in their DNA after fifteen hundred years of us running around siring kids. Only a fraction of one percent are chosen, and some of them still go insane despite everything we can do to weed them out. And we don’t know why.”

“Can’t the Majae do anything to save them? I mean, as powerful as they are…”

Nathan didn’t answer for a long moment. Finally, he sighed. “A few years ago, Morgana created a magical collar designed to contain a new Maja’s power. The idea was to let each candidate gain her abilities gradually, with the hope she’d be able to control it better. It should’ve worked. That collar was even able to contain Morgana’s power -- and she’s the most powerful Maja we’ve got. But the very first Latent they tried it out on blew out the collar. Merlin’s Gift was simply too powerful for it. The girl went into a paranoid rage, and Bonnhome had to kill her.”

“Damn,” she murmured, chilled. “Why would Merlin cast a spell that does that to people?”

“He didn’t design it that way. It seems to be a side effect of the Mageverse hitting some human brains.” He studied her as they walked. “I want to give you every chance to survive. These tests will give both of us a chance to think about this, to make absolutely sure it’s what you want to do.”

“But it is what I want to do.”

“And every single Latent I have ever Gifted -- including the ones I had to kill -- said the exact same thing. I’m sick of killing girls I just made love to. Especially considering I’m the one who turned them into magical IEDs.”

Daddy, daddy, daddy…

“I appreciate the concern. But I’m not going to give up. And I will survive my transition.”

Nathan’s face went stony. Turning away, he lengthened his stride. Rachel didn’t have to break into a run to keep up, but it was close.

A few blocks away, he turned down a walkway that led to an impressive Greek Revival home with tall arched windows and wrought iron balconies. It wasn’t that large compared to most of the houses they’d passed, but it wasn’t exactly tiny either.

“If Majae use magic to build their houses, where did you get yours?” Vampires couldn’t work spells beyond healing or turning into a wolf. For anything more, they needed a witch.

He shrugged. “I rescued a Maja after she was captured by a team of Geiroff’s psychotic followers. She built the house for me to show her gratitude.”

“So where do the other vampires live?”

“Depends. The Majae built an apartment complex for the rookies. Sometimes a Maja you partner with frequently will build you something. It’s a big favor -- it takes a lot of magic, and it wipes the witch out for days.”

“So the houses are permanent? Because it would really suck if the place disappeared around you while you were on the second floor.”

He laughed. “Yeah, they’re pretty sturdy. Though I’ll admit, if the witch who created them dies, they do go away. Luckily, Majae don’t generally die that often.” He grimaced. “Not unless something nasty and magical is doing the killing. We don’t get that a lot, thank Merlin.”

The house was as impressive inside as out, with tile floors, stained glass windows, and massive furniture, all leather and dark wood. The house wasn’t quite as packed with art and antiques as Oriana’s, but it was obvious why Gee had called it an armory. Exquisite swords, spears, axes, shields, dueling pistols, and assorted other weapons hung on the walls. A suit of plate armor, elaborately engraved, stood gleaming in the house’s foyer. As Rachel followed him over elegant black-and-white marble tiles, she found herself imagining how she’d decorate her own place.

Assuming she survived the transition.

Better not even think about that. It was never a good idea to dwell on all the things that might go wrong before you went into a dangerous situation. That could become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Nathan led the way into a long, narrow space with an arched ceiling she first assumed was a ballroom. But what really riveted her attention were the pair of murals that ran the length of opposing walls. The paintings depicted Renaissance duelists facing off against each other armed with rapiers, all deadly grace and lethal intent. One of them bore a distinct resemblance to Nathan.

While she paused to admire one of the murals, he walked to a huge armoire that stood against the room’s back wall. Swinging its double doors open, he revealed an impressive collection of swords, axes, daggers, and quarterstaffs. Nathan put the box Oriana had given him into a drawer, then paused to contemplate the blade collection.

He really did have the most incredible back -- broad shouldered, narrowing to a tight waist and a deliciously muscled ass under those black jeans. When he started to turn, she jerked her eyes guiltily away. A hint of a smile curved his seductive mouth, and she knew he’d caught her staring. “Keep your mind on business and off my dick. It’s by no means a sure thing you’re going to get it.” He tossed a sword at her.

Startled, Rachel almost missed the catch. Her cheeks heating ferociously, she studied the weapon. Though it had the heft and metallic gleam of steel, when she touched the blade, it gave beneath her fingers. “What’s this made of?”

“It’s spelled for use during practice, giving it the same weight and balance as a real blade. You’d have to work to hurt someone with it, and even if you did, I could call a healer.” He sauntered to the middle of the room and gave her a taunting finger wave. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“I thought we were going to use Gee’s circlets.”

“Not this first time. She said she trained you in swordplay. I want to see whether the lessons took.”

In other words, I’m about to get my ass kicked. Rachel had no illusions. Not only was Nathan a vampire, he was six or seven inches taller than she was, he’d been a professional swordsman during the Renaissance, and he had four hundred years of combat experience.

Still, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had her butt handed to her, and, one way or another, it wouldn’t be the last. Her mind flicked feverishly through every bit of combat advice Gee had given her. Do the unexpected, especially when you’re badly outmatched. And it didn’t get much more outmatched than fencing a vampire duelist.

Standard procedure in any sword fight was to circle and test your opponent, looking for weaknesses before you committed yourself to an attack. To do anything else was a good way to end up diced into sushi.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel moved to face him, lifted her sword, and settled into guard.

Nathan brought his weapon up and settled into position, balanced and graceful as a dancer. “En garde.”

She exploded toward him with a roar, as loud and startling as she could make it, swinging her sword in a furious arc that would have decapitated him if the sword had been real. His blade thumped rather than rang against hers in a parry that knocked hers off line, then slashed downward to slap against her extended thigh. It stung like a bitch. Her bruised sternum howled.

“Slow.” He shot forward, his blade licking out.

Rachel immediately leapt back, snapping a cut toward his ribs that he parried in a blur of speed. This time his retaliatory smack landed across her forearm. She gritted back a cry of pain.

She’d always loved swordplay. Gee had counted her as the best of her generation; she’d even bested her male Kent cousins. Though shorter than most men -- which meant her reach was also shorter -- Rachel was fast, and her endurance was greater because she didn’t have as much mass to move around. She knew how to take a beating too, since her cousins never pulled their shots.

But in all the matches she’d fought -- even against Gee -- she’d never had her ass handed to her with such a cold lack of mercy.

As she circled with Nathan, parrying his lightning attacks, her ribs took on a grinding ache. To make matters worse, that three-mile run earlier meant she didn’t have as much in the tank. Her attacks and parries slowed with each bruising impact.

But damn it, she was going to land a strike if it killed her. Rachel charged, teeth clenched. He parried her swing so hard her arm seemed to reverberate. The flat of his blade slapped across her chest just beneath her breasts, right over the center of the bruise.

Her knees gave, dumping her flat on her back, unable to even breathe.

Nathan looked down on her, frowning in irritation. “I know I didn’t hurt you that bad. Get up.”

The snap of command in his voice jolted Rachel into motion, but when she tried to sit up, pain slashed across her ribs like a whip. She fell back, curling around herself and fighting to breathe.

“Oh, shit. What’s wrong?” He fell to one knee beside her. Before she could stop him, he grabbed the hem of her red T-shirt and snatched it up.

* * *

“What the fuck?” Nathan stared at the deep purple bruise that bloomed across her sternum. Gently, carefully, he tugged the tee off over her head, despite her hiss of pain, and studied her lean, athletic torso. A lacy white bra cupped delightfully full breasts he’d normally be a lot more interested in -- if not for that God-awful bruise.

It was shaped like a teardrop and about two inches across. He knew damn well he hadn’t given it to her: it was too old, deep purple, going green around the edges. “What the hell?”

“I got shot the day before yesterday.” There was a distinct wheeze in her voice. “Hit me in the vest.”

Belatedly, he remembered a line in the news report Oriana had shown him about Rachel’s shooting incident. Damn it, he wished he’d remembered that little detail before he’d dragged her in here and beat the hell out of her.

As he studied the bruise, measuring its location against his knowledge of human anatomy, a chill stole over him. “He’d have killed you if you hadn’t been wearing that vest.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Hard to tell.”

And what if the bastard had shot her in the head? The thought made Nathan feel a little sick. Anger rolled over him, replacing the shock. “Why in the fuck didn’t you mention this before we started? Don’t you have any sense?”

Now she looked annoyed. “It’s just a bruise. Gee says you don’t let injuries stop you in combat.”

“This wasn’t combat, you little twit. This was a practice session.” Nathan reached out to delicately probe the contusion. He didn’t think her sternum was broken, though it was hard to tell without X-rays. “And in any case, you don’t go into combat injured if there’s time to see a healer. You’ll end up getting yourself hurt worse, and someone will have to risk his life to save your ass. Which wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d been healed ahead of time.”

She spoke through her teeth. “I’ll keep that in mind if it happens again.”

“You’d better. You do realize that little display of feminine machismo was self-defeating? I’d thought Oriana exaggerated how good you are, since your speed and range of motion sucked. Hell, you could barely breathe.”

Now he found himself impressed by her willingness to go after him so hard despite the pain. He’d fought with more serious injuries, of course, but still, bruised ribs were hell when it came to a sword fight. They impaired breathing and ached viciously whenever you tried to attack or parry.

She hadn’t let it stop her -- until he’d hit her right across that bruise. No wonder she’d fallen on her ass. “Idiot.” This time the curse wasn’t aimed at her. He’d worked with enough gung-ho little twits to know you couldn’t trust them to take care of themselves. The kid had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

Nathan was no longer sure it was even possible to discourage her. But he had to try. He really didn’t want her blood on his hands.

Chapter Three

Nathan rose and returned to the armoire to open the cabinet where he kept the first aid supplies. Rummaging through the assortment of bottles, jars and powders, he found the one he was looking for, plucked it out, and returned to her. She hadn’t tried to sit up -- probably an indication of how lousy she felt.

“Take off your bra.”

A mulish expression crossed her lovely face, and she opened her mouth.

“Considering we’re supposed to sleep together, don’t you think modesty is a little out of place? Take off that bra.”

Rachel frowned at him, but arched her spine and tried to reach around under her back to unfasten it. When she winced in pain, he realized there was no way she could do it without hurting herself more.

“Never mind.” He caught hold of the band between the bra’s cups and tore the fabric carefully, trying not to put any more strain on her bruised sternum. The twinge of pain that crossed her face revealed he hadn’t quite succeeded. Rather than try to maneuver the straps off, he snapped them one by one, then tossed the bra aside.

And froze. Under normal circumstances, he suspected it would be a very nice view. Her breasts were full and round on her leanly muscled chest, topped by pink nipples that crinkled in involuntary reaction as he stared at her.

Unfortunately, he was feeling too guilty to appreciate the view. Reaching out, he delicately traced the contours of the bruise again. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have broken ribs. You had no business fencing like this.”

Rachel glowered up at him as her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. “Give me credit for some sense. I got a chest X-ray after the shooting. Nothing was even cracked. It’s only a bruise.”

Nathan grunted, and twisted off the jar’s lid. The ointment it contained was cool and white, and his fingers tingled from the magic as he scooped it out.

“What’s that?” she asked as he started spreading it over the blue-black lump. She sucked in a breath in surprise as the magic went to work, brown eyes widening.

“Magical salve, specifically designed for bruises. Anything more complicated than that needs a healer.” He traced a finger through the red line left by his sword stroke.

“I thought you vampire types turned into wolves whenever you needed to heal.” Her tone was cool, but her throat worked as she swallowed, her gaze following the movement of his fingers as he sought out each mark his blade had inflicted. On her arms, with their smooth skin over long female muscle, along one shoulder… His hands began to slow, savoring the textures of her body.

“Shifting to wolf burns a lot of magic, and I don’t like to do it to heal relatively trivial injuries.” His voice sounded a little hoarse, and he swallowed and cleared his throat.

His gaze landed on her breasts again. The ugly purple bruise was beginning to fade as the magic did its work. Without its guilty distraction, he grew even more aware of the lovely, pale curves with their tight peaks. What do they taste like?

This was a very bad idea. The whole point of this little exercise had been to build distance between them, not to erode his self-control even more. Self-control that was more than a little rickety to begin with, given that intoxicating Latent scent he smelled every time he drew a breath in her presence.

His fangs began to ache.

Give her the damn jar and get out, his common sense told him. Trouble was, he’d spent the fight watching her -- and found himself reluctantly impressed by her grace and guts, by her refusal to back down, by her sheer willpower.

His stubborn hands reached for the waistband of her leggings even as his common sense whispered Don’t do it.

The whisper was way too faint.

* * *

Rachel swallowed as those big scarred hands tugged the leggings downward. “What are you doing?”

He froze, staring at the triangle of red panty he’d revealed. His throat worked as he swallowed. At least she wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of this. Whatever the hell this was. “Checking your legs for bruises.”

“Yeah? Because it looks like you’re taking my clothes off.” Which would’ve sounded a lot more cynical without the rough note in her voice.

“Even a vampire can’t see through fabric.” He looked up at her, and she drew in a hard breath at the dark blaze in his eyes. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

The heat in his eyes made her heart start pounding in long, furious lunges. What did she want? She had no idea. But her nipples were drawn tight, and she could feel her sex going slick. He blinked, and his nostrils flared.

And Rachel remembered Gee had told her vampires had a sense of smell as acute as a bloodhound’s. Oh God, he’s smelling how turned on I am.

Her attention slid helplessly downward.

A bulge swelled below his belt, thick enough to choke an anaconda. She didn’t quite manage to suppress her gasp.

Nathan’s lips curled in a half smile in the black frame of his goatee. He kept pulling the leggings down. The red panties didn’t go with them.

Quite.

He got the leggings down to her knees, then stopped. Deliberately, he took her flats off and placed them neatly to one side. When he turned away, she shot a quick look between her thighs. There was a dark patch on her red silk panties, silent testimony to her arousal. She almost reached down to cover herself, but arrested the gesture. We’re supposed to sleep together, damn it. I’m not going to act like a virgin debutante from a Victorian romance.

So she made herself lie there as he scooped out more of the magical salve. Again, he traced the line of a long sword stroke that cut the length of her thigh. Again, the cream felt cool going on, only to heat a moment later as the magic went to work, building rapidly into a sting that reminded her of alcohol on an open cut.

Nathan stopped to study her legs, searching for more bruises. Spotting one, he hesitated a long moment. Following the direction of his eyes, she saw why. The long red mark stopped barely an inch below the crotch of her panties.

He dug out more of the cream and slowly spread it along the welt. Again, ice soothed the ache, followed by the sting of healing, until it was all she could do not to writhe with growing need.

Nathan sat back on his heels, his hot eyes scanning her body. This time, he wasn’t looking for bruises. Raw possessiveness glittered in those blue eyes.

She cleared her throat. “There’s a bruise on your arm.”

His gaze met hers. For a moment she felt she was tumbling in free-fall. “Yes.” His voice sounded deeper, rougher than it had a moment before.

Rachel sat up and took the jar from his hand. Nothing hurt. “That salve’s good stuff.” She scooped out some of the cream, and traced her fingertips over the hard contours of his biceps. At her touch, the thick muscle twitched.

Acutely aware of the sway of her bare breasts, she reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head. And froze, much as he had.

Nathan looked as if some classical sculptor had carved him out of marble, all smooth, hard curves and ridges. His wasn’t the heavy build of a weightlifter, for whom muscle was an end in itself. Nor did he have the gangly appearance of a marathon runner. Instead, his body struck the perfect balance between the two like an Olympic swimmer, with enough bulk for strength, but not enough to slow him down.

Scars marred that perfect body here and there, thin lines that reminded her of his duelist career. Old sword wounds, probably inflicted with a rapier.

A long red line slashed over his belly that looked like an abrasion from her practice sword. Rachel scooped up more of the cream and leaned forward to trace it over the injury. Muscle moved under her fingers as though he drew in a breath.

She looked up automatically to find Nathan staring down at her, his eyes intense and hot.

Broad hands slid into the hair at her neck, pulling her head back. His mouth covered hers, lips soft in the frame of his beard. The kiss started out slow, almost gentle, more request than claiming.

Until she groaned.

Nathan growled. It was a rough, animal, very male sound, fierce with hunger. He opened his mouth wider, increasing the pressure until he fed at her lips in deep, eating kisses.

Ravenous.

Excitement burned through her like a flame licking along a fuse, heat building toward an explosion.

A big hand came up and cupped her breast, palm rough with calluses and scars. The faint abrasion made her heating lust leap higher. Rachel dragged her mouth away from his, sucking a breath. “I thought you didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to give me the Gift.”

He stared into her eyes from inches away. His gaze was so feral with lust, it was like staring into the eyes of a tiger. “Once won’t do it.”

“Three will.”

His lips lifted in a quick flashing grin. “Which gives me one more time before I have to make up my mind.”

“Asshole.”

“Get used to it.” This time when his mouth crushed down on hers, she felt the prick of his fangs. One hand tightened on her breast, thumb raking over her nipple, each rough brush sending an intoxicating rush of flame through her, until it felt as if her veins began to glow. He gripped her hair in a big fist. Something about the stinging hold heated her blood even more.

He surged against her, bearing her backward, his hand cradling her skull, preventing it from knocking into the floor as his weight hit her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and her arms around his powerful torso as thick brawn worked under her hands. Her short nails dug into his skin. The feel of that velvet flesh indenting under the pressure was wildly arousing. She growled herself, a little rumble in the base of her throat, a little animal, a lot hungry.

He growled back. And bit her lower lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood with those fangs, but the threat was there. And God, it aroused her.

She dug her nails and tightened her thighs. Felt the bulk of his cock through the rough fabric of his jeans. Rachel moaned at the thick promise of it. The raw, erotic tease.

She wanted more.

He pulled away a fraction, arctic eyes wide, the pupils huge and eating the light. He began to kiss his way along the length of her jaw, tongue swirling, tasting her. She threw back her head, gasping, tightening the grip of her thighs so she could grind her silk-clad pussy against his cock.

Wet. She was so wet, and he was so hard. And he was going to fuck her. God, she wanted it, whether or not it was the first step to getting the Gift. Rachel really didn’t give a damn about the Gift just now.

She wanted Nathan.

He tasted his way along her jaw to her ear, paused to swirl his tongue around her lobe, press the delicate flesh between his front teeth. Careful not to break the skin.

His lips found her pulse and paused. She gasped, feeling the heat of his mouth against the throbbing beat of it. He’s going to bite me. He’s going to feed. And it’s going to hurt. Yet there was a wicked arousal in that thought, a perverse need to feel the sting and penetration of his teeth. To listen to the sound of him swallowing her blood.

Claiming her.

Rachel had never wanted anybody to claim her. Hell, yesterday the thought would have outraged her. But now she froze against him, breath held, waiting for the sink and sting of his fangs. Waiting for the liquid sound of his swallows.

Instead he jerked his head away from her throat, met her gaze, his narrow and wild. His lips curled into something halfway between a smile and a snarl. “Not yet.”

When she hissed in frustration, he laughed. Went back to kissing and licking his way down her throat. He pulled tighter on her hair, drawing her spine into an arch. Rachel tried to fight his hold, but his vampire strength overwhelmed her easily.

She was helpless.

God, that’s exciting. She ground against his erection, nails digging deeper into his skin.

“Keep that up, and you’ll draw blood.”

“Good,” she gritted. “You deserve it.”

He laughed, deep and rough, a tiger’s purr. “Maybe I do, at that.” He lowered his head until his mouth hovered over her nipple. His eyes flashed up at hers. “The question is, what do you deserve?” The tip of one fang flashed white over the thrusting peak, an implied threat that made her breath catch.

Something wild and hot spun through Rachel, making her crave that dark, erotic pain. She’d never considered herself a masochist, but something about Nathan’s stare seemed to draw out an answering wildness. Made her crave things she’d never known, never even dreamed of wanting.

Made her want to leap into the dark after him.

* * *

Nathan stared up at her as hot lust fisted his balls until the roots of his fangs ached. He shouldn’t be doing this -- it was a bad idea -- but he didn’t give a shit. He’d wanted Rachel since she’d stalked into her apartment covered in sweat, her eyes dark with pain and black memory.

He should have known it was going to end up like this, regardless of what his common sense told him.

He had to have her. Now.

Nathan closed his mouth over her breast, sucked hard, and was rewarded by the sting of her nails drawing blood. He loved that he’d driven her so wild, loved the grind of her panty-clad pussy against his dick.

He reached down, wrapped his fist in that ridiculous scrap of red silk. Twisted. Jerked. The panties tore like spider silk in his hand.

But he was still wearing his jeans. And he needed them the hell off. He levered himself off her, jolted to his feet, jerked off his ankle boots. Sent them banging against the nearest wall while he went for his snap and his zipper and began dragging the jeans off.

Rachel propped up on her elbows and watched him, a long chestnut curl falling into glittering brown eyes, color riding high in her cheeks. He could smell her arousal with every breath he took. Nathan jerked his pants off, and almost fell on his ass in his haste. He sent them sailing after the boots.

That he bent down, scooped her into his arms, and headed out of the room and down the hall.

She looped her arms around his neck. “Where are we going?”

“Bedroom. I’m damned if I’m going to fuck you on the floor.”

Rachel gave him a gamine smile. “Well, as long as you’ve got a plan.”

He returned the smile with one deliberately evil. “Oh, I have a plan, all right.”

She laughed, the sound throaty and a little wicked. His cock bucked at the erotic promise in her voice. Damned if he could remember the last time he’d been this turned on.

Never mind that he practically fucked for a living. Deep in his mind, a voice said, This is different.

No, it’s not, insisted his sense of self-preservation.

He ignored both and carried her up the stairs. It was the kind of maneuver he used frequently with his Latents, romantic and dominant at once.

This time, it wasn’t part of his act. There was something about having her in his arms that felt different. As if he were claiming her rather than simply seducing her.

Nathan looked down into her face, and saw a flicker of vulnerability and unease in her gaze. But beneath that emotion was a glitter of erotic excitement.

She wanted him.

He couldn’t think of the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly.

Nathan carried Rachel down the hall to his bedroom, enjoying her awed murmur as she looked around at the huge brass bed and the stained glass window that took up one whole wall. He strode to the bed and lowered her to the enchanted mink throw that lay across it. She purred in approval at the press of the pelt’s silken texture against her bare skin. Then she frowned slightly.

“And before you ask, no, it didn’t come from real animals,” Nathan told her, having previously encountered Millennial objections to skinning the small and fuzzy. “You can lie back and enjoy it with a clear conscience.”

She grinned wickedly up at him. “Okay, you talked me into it.”

He straightened, admiring the carnal contrast between her lush, pale body and the dark fur. As he watched, she scooted toward the middle of the bed, lovely breasts bouncing. Her eyes were hot with anticipation.

Before Rachel could scoot any further, he grabbed her ankles and lifted them so he could drape her thighs over his shoulders. He practically dove for her pussy, enjoying her sharp indrawn breath as his mouth covered her. He thrust his tongue deep, eyes slipped closed at the salty pleasure of her taste, tinged with that hint of magical spice that meant Latent.

Distilled sex. God, he loved that taste. He released his grip on one thigh to spread her vaginal lips and stab his tongue deep.

* * *

Rachel gasped, both hands fisting the fur at the burning pleasure of his long licks, the elegant swirling patterns over clit and between lips. God, he was good at that. She rolled her head back against the pelt as delight leapt with every tiny flick and nibble.

She felt as if he were winding her up like the key of an old-fashioned toy, some inner spring compressing tighter and tighter. Squeezing her eyes shut, she panted. Craving his teeth.

The thought of his bite sent another shiver of sheer lust through her, a driving hunger for that thick, flushed cock.

His arms tightened around her thighs, and she dug her bare heels harder against his muscled back. Pulling him closer, increasing the pressure of his tongue against her pussy and clit.

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted him, and she wanted him now. “God, Nathan, fuck me!”

His only response was a dark, rumbling chuckle against slick folds.

The vibration was maddening. Rachel writhed against him, deliberately grinding, until she began to feel the hot tensing that signaled the beginning of an orgasm. She gasped, reflexively reaching out, meaning to grab his short hair in one hand.

A male hand closed around her wrist before she could get a grip, pushed it down to the fur, and pinned it there. Nathan’s tongue licked and swirled, urging the maddening sensations even higher. She writhed, unable to stop herself. Close, so close…

“Nathan…” She gasped it, desperate, begging.

The hand around her leg released it, reached up her body, and found her nipple. He began to squeeze and milk and twist it, every stroke sending another stab of delight through her. Built her lust even more.

“Nathan!” Need made the word so high-pitched, it was almost a whine. “Fuck me, you sadistic son of a bitch!”

He lifted his head and shot her a glittering stare. “That is not the way you talk to me.” The naked menace in his voice somehow aroused her even more.

Vampire Trinity notwithstanding, she’d had no idea she was this kinky.

Abruptly he released her wrists to land astride her like a cat pouncing on a catnip mouse. She didn’t quite suppress her yelp.

Nathan loomed over her his eyes glittering, broad shoulders blocking the light as he sat back on his heels and took his thick cock in hand. “Do you want this?”

Her laughter sounded a little wild. “You’re kidding, right?”

His palm slapped against her bare thigh in a smack she should’ve kicked him for. “I asked a question.”

“Yes! But if you ever spank me again, you’ll wind up with donkey ears if I have to get Gee to give them to you.”

Nathan’s mouth curled into a dark smile framed in beard. “I’m terrified,” he drawled. And lowered himself over her, guiding the thick shaft into her wet, snug heat.

The feel of it was so raw, so intense as he worked in deep… Gasping, Rachel stared up at him, wild-eyed, as he braced himself over her on thickly muscled arms.

Licking her lips, she spread her legs wider for him.

Nathan began to thrust. Slow, deep, grinding in and out, angling his hips to make sure his pelvis made contact with her clit. Winding her building pleasure tighter and tighter until it seemed to press against the back of her eyes. She hooked her calves over his ass and ground up at him, wrapping both arms around his torso. Muscle worked and rolled under her hands with every long stroke.

Nathan sank to his elbows, so the length of his strong body touched hers. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her body into an arch. He kissed her, one of those deep, suckling kisses he did so well. With a groan of arousal, she kissed him back, tongues circling and swirling.

The hard muscle of his abdomen flexed against her softer belly, shuttling his cock in and out, teasing her with its length and thickness. Each stroke felt exquisite, and she lost herself in him, in his taste and heat and hardness.

A crazed kind of hunger built in Rachel, more intense than anything she’d ever felt with any other man. She tightened her grip and met the drive of his hips with hers, taking him as deep as she could get, trying to fill that maddening emptiness, that breathless craving.

Still riding her, he drew away from her mouth, found the underside of her jaw. Groaning, knowing what he intended, she tilted her head back. Giving him access to her banging pulse.

His mouth touched her skin there, tongue laving the spot tenderly. One hand angled her head. She sucked in a breath, impossibly aroused -- an arousal that only grew as he bit down in a hot, sweet sting. A thought flitted through her mind -- I thought it would hurt more -- and then he began to drink, taking her as he fucked her harder. Each long plunge made the bed shift under her as his big body rolled against hers.

On and on he thrust, still drinking, as the pleasure wound tighter and tighter until she groaned and shook with it, clawing for the orgasm barely out of her reach.

He stiffened with a snarl, shoving deep. Coming. And as he shot within her, her orgasm struck like a snake, a savage burn more ferocious than any climax she’d ever had. “Nathan!” She screamed it, helpless, as raw sensation blasted through her.

He released her throat and lifted his head. “Look at me!”

Her eyes flew wide as she gasped through the blazing orgasm. He stared down at her, his gaze fierce, pupils blown with lust, his handsome face drawn in a rictus of ecstasy and triumph. A bead of something crimson shown on his lip.

She had no idea why that made the whole thing even hotter.

Finally, he collapsed on the bed beside her, then reached out and pulled her over on to him, cradling her in his arms. Listening to the furious thump of his heart, Rachel felt herself truly relax for the first time since the shooting.

She’d slept barely a handful of hours in the past seventy-two. And yet five minutes later, she fell asleep in the vampire’s arms.

Chapter Four

Nathan lay staring up at the stained glass skylight, bright even at night in the illumination of the house’s exterior spotlights. Otherwise he’d never be able to enjoy it, thanks to the magical Day Sleep that would knock him cold the minute the sun rose. The colored glass served a practical purpose; without it, the sun’s light would inflict serious burns he wouldn’t even feel until he woke at sunset.

Being a vampire might give you fantastic strength and speed, but it came at a price. A liquid diet and never seeing the sun were major line items on that bill.

The fact that he found Latents like Rachel incredibly tempting was yet another price to be paid.

He looked down at her, feeling her warm breath puff across his bare skin. Her lashes looked ridiculously long as they lay on her cheeks. She was asleep.

What the hell am I doing? He’d fully intended to keep his distance tonight. And yet here he was.

Nathan frowned, intensely conscious of the feel of her, her body soft against his in so many tempting places, strong in so many others. She looked so innocent in sleep, as untouched as a maiden from a medieval ballad.

Which made a startling contrast to the cold determination on her face when they’d fenced. She was a warrior, no matter how sweet she looked in sleep. She also made love like a courtesan, as wild with arousal as he’d been himself.

His self-control was usually better than this. If he weren’t damn careful, he’d end up Gifting her before he knew what hit him.

And then he might have to kill her.

The thought of Rachel going mad made him feel sick at what he’d have to do then. Killing Christine had been bad enough.

Dr. Christine Phillips had been a pediatric oncologist who’d devoted her life to saving children from childhood cancer. She’d told him once how the patients she lost ate at her.

Christine had believed becoming a Maja would give her the opportunity to heal those she couldn’t save through merely human medicine. He’d warned her it wouldn’t be that simple -- she’d have to give up practicing medicine among the mortals. She’d almost turned the Gift down then, but the thought of being able to do something about the terrorism and injustice of the world seduced her into going for it anyway.

She should have been fine. The witches of the Majae’s Council had predicted she’d survive her transformation with her sanity intact.

They’d been wrong.

He’d come within her that third time, felt the blast of raw power that was the Gift activating within her cells. In those first moments, he’d thought she would be okay. She’d looked around the room with such wonder, entranced by the magical forces all Majae could see when they transformed the first time. Springing from the bed laughing like a child, she’d conjured one ball of sparking magic, then another. Then another.

He realized something was wrong when the first of those spheres changed from sunlight gold to bloody red.

Christine turned her head and looked at him. As he watched in helpless horror, madness flooded her gaze like the red staining her magic. She whirled and flung all three balls at him like a Major League pitcher, one right after another. He dove off the bed barely a heartbeat before the first blast blew a hole in the stained glass window.

As Nathan rolled aside, he’d snatched his sword from under the bed, where he always left it when he Gifted a witch. Christine dove at him, shrieking in rage and madness…

And he’d run her through.

For a heartbeat, she stared at him in bewildered accusation. Then she’d fallen, the life draining from her beautiful blue eyes.

Nathan hadn’t loved her. That was by design -- he never spent enough time with the Latents he Gifted to fall in love.

But none of those girls was Rachel, whispered a soft voice in his mind.

Oh, shit. Oh no, I am not doing that. No way in hell.

A little spurt of unaccustomed fear drove him to lift Rachel off his chest and settle her on the bed’s furry coverlet. He needed some distance. Badly.

Nathan eased off the other side and padded naked down the hall to descend the stairs. Moving in long strides, he headed for the living room and its well-stocked bar. He stepped behind the gleaming length of dark walnut, reached up into the shelves that held his liquor collection, and pulled down a shot glass and a bottle of Glenlivet. He poured himself three fingers and downed the fiery liquor in one swallow.

Galahad would be outraged at his sacrilegious treatment of the Scotch.

He poured another glass and did it again.

As the liquor seared the lining of his throat, Nathan tried to reason with his instincts. He was not, damn it, falling for Rachel Kent. The very idea was ridiculous, especially considering how little time he’d known her. Yeah, she was pretty enough, but so were the other women he’d slept with in his career as a court seducer. Yes, she was bright and courageous, but both characteristics were pretty much a prerequisite for any Gift candidate.

I’m feeling guilty and vulnerable because of Christine. It doesn’t mean anything.

Nathan threw himself down on the long black leather couch, scooped up the remote, and turned on the wall-length screen that hung across the room. By all rights, the thing shouldn’t work in the Mageverse, but witches had a way of sidestepping the laws of physics. Pretty much every cable and online service known to man was available in Avalon.

Brooding, he started surfing the program menu, trying to find something he actually wanted to watch. He’d settled on one of the 24-hour news channels when his vampire hearing picked up a soft moan of pain coming from upstairs.

Nathan tossed the remote aside and hurried out of the room to take the stairs two at a time. Striding to the master bedroom door, he swung it open and headed for the bed. “Rachel?”

Gloriously naked in the colorful light shining through the stained glass windows, she twisted restlessly against the fur, moaning in distress. The moans grew into a ragged, pleading sound, strangled with pain and terror.

Nathan’s first instinct was to shake her awake, but he knew that was the worst thing you could do to someone in the grip of a nightmare. Instead he called sharply, “Rachel? Rachel, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”

Her entire body seemed to spasm, and her eyes flew wide. She looked around, her expression panicky, as if she had no idea where she was or what was going on.

“Rachel, you’re at my house. Everything’s fine.”

Her head snapped around and she stared up at him as he stood by the bed, wild-eyed and confused. “Nathan?” Her voice shook.

Then the confusion faded, replaced by embarrassment. She groaned, rubbing both hands over her face. “Damn it.”

Nathan squashed the impulse to take her in his arms. He was on the verge of losing all pretense of objectivity as it was. Neither one of them could afford that. She needed him to make her think -- really think -- about whether she wanted to risk the Gift. This wasn’t something she should do simply because Oriana had brainwashed her to believe it was her duty. He was all for duty, but the thought of looking into those beautiful eyes and seeing madness…

No. He had to get a handle on the situation. Had to maintain some emotional distance so they both could stay on an even keel.

If she chose to risk the Gift, fine. It was her life. She needed to make that decision without being swamped by emotion that might lead her into self-destruction. He had a responsibility to provide that distance, not tempt her into suicide by treating her like a lover.

And if some part of him hated the idea, that was too fucking bad.

* * *

“Bad dream?”

“Yeah.” Rachel rubbed her hands across her face again, trying to rid herself of the last sticky psychic cobwebs of the nightmare. Daddy, daddy, daddy…

In tonight’s variation, she’d been unable to move when the killer turned his gun on his wife and children. She wanted to step between them, shield them as she had in real life, but her body hadn’t obeyed. She’d stood frozen and helpless while Don killed them one by one -- and then turned the gun on Rachel.

“I dreamed about the shooting. Again.”

“You’ll find you do that a lot in the aftermath of combat,” Nathan told her. His voice was cool, sounding nothing like the man who’d made such passionate love to her. When she shot him a startled glance, his eyes were as distant as his voice.

The hell?

He made a show of looking down at the old-fashioned wristwatch he wore. “Sun’ll be coming up in about half an hour. I don’t have long until the Day Sleep. You may want to head to Oriana’s, have her open a dimensional gate for you if you need to go back home. Be back here tonight at sunset and we’ll continue the testing.”

A spark of anger shot through Rachel as she remembered an old southern saying about rude hosts trying to get rid of inconvenient guests. “‘Here’s your hat,’” she muttered. “‘What’s your hurry?’”

“I’m not your boyfriend, Rachel. You’re my assignment.”

Her jaw dropped. She wanted to tell him exactly what he could do with his assignment, but she had the humiliating suspicion she’d be unable to hide the hurt under her rage. “Yeah, you made that more than clear.”

Furious, Rachel stalked toward the door, only to break step when she realized she was stark naked.

“Your clothes are still in the dojo.”

Without acknowledging what he’d said, she headed naked down the steps, blinking her stinging eyes. Damned if she was going to cry for the son of a bitch.

Her leggings, tank, and shoes lay on the floor of the practice room. He’d reduced her bra and panties to scraps. Looks like I’m going commando, she thought, and got dressed anyway.

Still seething, Rachel let herself out, resisting the urge to slam the door. It was only when she hit the cobblestone street outside that she realized she didn’t remember how to get back to Oriana’s.

Fuck it. She turned right and stalked off.

Which was, of course, the wrong way. She realized her mistake more than a mile later, turned around, and went in the other direction.

Asshole.

* * *

Rachel poured out her outrage while Oriana cooked breakfast for the pair of them. They were eating before she ran out of steam. “I can’t help but notice…” She stabbed her fork into her eggs. “That you haven’t said anything.”

Gee took a bite of her bacon, chewed and swallowed. At last she said, “I don’t blame you for being pissed, but I think he was trying to do you a favor.”

“Are you saying you don’t think I should get the Gift either?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll make an excellent Maja. I’m simply concerned you may be getting a little too involved with him. Nathan’s right. He’s not your boyfriend, and he’s never going to be.”

“I know that. I’m not an idiot.”

Oriana gave her a long, cool look. “Do you?” When Rachel opened her mouth to retort, Gee held up a hand, silencing her. “Look, it’s natural for Latents and Magekind to feel an intense mutual attraction. Merlin’s spell reacts to the magic in any member of the Magekind, especially someone of the opposite sex who could trigger the Gift. And Court Seducers are naturally seductive people to begin with. That’s why they’re chosen for the job.”

“Yeah, Nathan just oozes charm.”

“Actually he does, at least when it suits him. He’s always loved women -- has a positive talent for making whomever he’s with feel like the center of the universe.”

“He must really hate my guts then, because he doesn’t make me feel that way.”

“Oh, really?”

Rachel started to answer, then remembered the moment when she’d lain in his arms. “Okay, maybe once.”

Gee sighed. “Look, being a Court Seducer can be difficult. Ninety-nine percent of the time you’re sleeping with someone you don’t know, so you’re supposed to make it easier for the Latents by romancing them. Seducers aren’t supposed to lie, but they are told to make their partners feel this isn’t just soulless sex. The best Court Seducers make their Latents fall a little bit in love without actually breaking their hearts.”

Rachel toyed with her fork. “Tricky balance to strike.”

“Exactly.” Oriana leaned closer and caught her in an intense gaze. “Now imagine that out of every thousand Latents you seduce, one of them goes insane and tries to kill you. And if you don’t stop her, God knows how many people she’s going to kill.”

“Yeah. He’s told me all about that. More than once.”

“But think about how it must really feel. Here’s a woman you were making love to not five minutes before, and now you’ve got to kill her -- if you can. Vampires may be much stronger than we are, but our magic gives us a tremendous advantage. In any fight between a mad Maja and a Magus, the vampire could easily lose. And if he dies, she’ll be turned loose on an unsuspecting Avalon. Yes, eventually somebody’s going to kill her, but others could get ambushed and murdered. All because the seducer screwed up.”

Rachel winced. As a cop, she was all too familiar with the public cost of lethal mistakes. Hell, even when you did the right thing, there was a price to be paid. And you might not be the only one to pay it. Daddy, daddy, daddy…

“My point is, no matter how he makes you feel, he doesn’t share your emotions. He can’t afford to. And you can’t afford to let three fucks mean more to you than they should. You’re going to get hurt.”

Pride stinging, Rachel glowered. “Look, I’m not some dippy little Victorian virgin. I’ve had lovers.”

Oriana snorted. “None of whom were anything like Nathan Allard. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your time with him, but you need to keep in mind it doesn’t mean anything. It can’t. Have fun making love to him, by all means, but don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him piss you off when he tests you. And for God sake, guard your heart even when he makes you come so hard you see stars. Otherwise you’re going to regret it.”

“Yeah,” Rachel said. “I see your point.”

I don’t like it, but I see it.

* * *

Oriana opened a gate back to Rachel’s apartment, promising to return her to the Mageverse at sunset.

Rachel took a shower and fell into bed, hoping to catch up on the sleep she’d missed since the shooting. She tossed and turned before finally drifting off.

Her alarm went off at two, and she staggered out of bed to get ready for her appointment with the therapist. She supposed she could go ahead and quit her job, but she didn’t want to trigger rumors that there was anything unjustified in the Gordon shooting. Besides, it was possible she might decide not to become a Maja after all. She doubted it, but the possibility existed.

So she spent fifty minutes at the therapist’s office rehashing the shooting -- again -- and explaining she felt fully justified and would do it again if she had to.

She wasn’t sure the therapist believed her.

Next Rachel swung by her parents’ house to tell her mother what was going on. She’d briefly considered waiting until it was all over so her folks wouldn’t worry, but what if she didn’t survive her transformation? She didn’t want them blindsided like that.

Barbara Kent worked the second shift at Tayunita County Regional Hospital, but it was her day off, making this a good opportunity for a visit.

Though she’d become a nurse when her Magekind ambitions failed to materialize, Barbara was still tall and athletic even in her fifties. She was so thrilled when Rachel told her the news, it was obvious it never even occurred to her that her daughter might not survive the Gift. Rachel decided not to bring that possibility to her attention.

When she left the family’s brick colonial, her mother was already making plans for the party they’d throw to celebrate Rachel’s becoming Magekind.

Buoyed by Barbara’s confidence, she called her Highway Patrol trooper father to give him the news. Richard might not be a Latent, or even a Kent by blood, but he knew the family secret and had embraced its traditions. He’d even taken his wife’s name, a move that had raised some eyebrows in his very conservative family. He’d been willing to do it anyway to make his wife happy.

He’d even submitted to the secrecy spell Oriana cast on family members to ensure none of them talked about the Magekind. The measure was de rigueur for any mortal who knew the secret; Avalon was more paranoid about security than the NSA.

Richard also knew what it took to become a Maja, and he wasn’t sure he liked the idea. Nor did he approve of Court Seducers, particularly when it came to his daughter.

“So how’s this vampire treating you?” Dad demanded, sounding every inch the big, intimidating cop he was.

“Oh, Nathan’s a perfect gentleman,” she told him without missing a beat. She didn’t lie to her father often, but there were some things he didn’t need to know.

“He’d better be, or I’ll kick his ass.” Dad would give it his best shot, too, never mind that a vampire was several times stronger than any human.

By the time Rachel hung up, she was smiling.

A call to her firefighter sister was the next order of business. Teresa wanted to know if the vampire was cute. She admitted he was, and resisted the temptation to add that he was also an asshat. Anything Teresa knew, her parents would find out. Her little sister couldn’t have kept a secret in a bank vault. She loved to talk, and she was compulsively honest. If not for Gee’s Top-Secret spell, she probably would’ve outed them all on Facebook by now.

Duty done, she headed home and fell into bed for another desperately needed nap. She dreamed about the shooting only once, but it was still bad enough to make her claw her way to wakefulness.

By the time Oriana finally arrived at sunset, Rachel was glad for the distraction.

Gee treated her to dinner before she set off for her appointment with Nathan and another glorious night of banging her head against the wall.

Though she was tempted to do it with the vampire’s stubborn skull instead…

* * *

Rachel strolled in wearing a black tank top and another pair of skintight leggings that made Nathan’s vampire appetites rumble approval. She’d tied her hair back in a curly ponytail that swung between her shoulder blades, and her brown eyes were narrow and wary.

Good, he told himself. If she wanted to keep her distance, all the better. His disappointed libido would have to get over it.

Once again they headed into the dojo, but this time he gave her one of Oriana’s simulation circlets. She studied the engraved silver circlet dubiously, but she put it on anyway.

He did the same, feeling the familiar buzz of magic along his skin as the spell activated.

Suddenly they stood in an alley between two brick buildings. The ground trembled beneath their feet.

It had good reason.

A creature fifteen feet tall raced down the alley toward them on two powerful legs, thick tail lashing behind it as it ran. It was covered in emerald green feathers, its gaping muzzle revealing teeth like daggers. A blue gemstone shown above its bright orange eyes.

Rachel recoiled, staring at the dinosaur in shock as it thundered closer. “What the hell is that -- a Tyrannosaurus Rex?”

“The team that fought it called it Super Chicken.” He didn’t blame her for looking horrified. He was glad he hadn’t had to fight the thing himself. Facing it in the simulation was bad enough. “But technically I think it was a raptor.”

“Real raptors were the size of German shepherds!”

“Super Chicken wasn’t a real raptor. A werewolf wizard created it from another werewolf.”

“Oh, come on! Werewolves don’t use magic any more than vampires do.” Apparently Oriana had briefed her descendants about Merlin’s assorted creations.

“Warlock did.” And they’d had a hell of a time killing him, too.

The monster thudded to a stop, tail whipping, and roared, breathing the stench of blood and meat over them.

“Back off, KFC!” Rachel snapped up at it, before turning to glare at Nathan. “No. Forget it. I was willing to play along with the sword fight yesterday, but this is ridiculous.”

The raptor started to dive at them, jaws open wide as if to eat them both. With a huff of disgust, she snatched the circlet off of her head. And promptly vanished from the simulation.

Nathan did the same before the creature had a chance to take a bite out of him. Both the dojo and Rachel reappeared. He glowered at her. “I told you I was going to test you. Are you giving up on becoming a Maja?”

“No, I’m refusing to go along with this bullshit.”

“Majae don’t get to turn their backs on a mission because it’s dangerous.”

“And exactly how many times have Majae had to fight magical raptors in the past fifteen hundred years?”

“Once,” he snapped back. “But they did have to fight it.”

“And how many of them were brand new Majae who’d never fought anything at all with magic -- ever? I have had zero training in the use of my power because I don’t have power to use. You can’t tell me Morgana Le Fay would send a rookie Maja against a monster like that with no backup.”

“Look, all you have to do is picture what you want to do -- create a fireball or whatever -- and the spell will create an illusion of that attack to let you experience what it would be like. The point is to see how you would use magic if you had it.”

“The point is to scare me off. Look, I get that you don’t want to have to kill another insane Maja. I don’t blame you. I’m not real thrilled about the possibility I might have to shoot somebody again. But giving me Merlin’s Gift is your job. The Majae’s counsel cleared me to get the Gift. Do your job or quit.”

“This is my job,” he ground back. “I make the final decision about whether you can survive the transition. So take the test or go home. Those are your options.”

“May I remind you, you’re not the only male court seducer in Avalon? I can also go to Dominic Bonnhome.”

At the thought of Bonnhome taking Rachel to bed, a stab of vicious jealousy knifed through him. “He’s on a mission.”

“Fine. Half the people in this town have dicks. I’m sure Gee can talk one of them into doing it.”

And they’d probably be more than happy to oblige, too. “Not if I appeal to it to Arthur. As I told Oriana last night, he’s the only one who can rescind this assignment. If I judge you’re not safe to receive the Gift, he’ll back me up.”

Her delicate jaw jutted. “Are you honestly saying you think I’m too weak to survive?” When he hesitated, she demanded, “Is that what you think?”

He couldn’t quite bring himself to lie. “I don’t know. I do know your life hangs on this decision. Yes, Dominic would happily bang you into the Gift, but if you lost it, he’d also cut your throat without a second thought.”

“Would you have a second thought?”

“Yes, damn it, I would. I’d never fucking get over it. Is that what you want to hear?”

Rachel looked startled for a moment before she frowned. “Even if I pass your tests, is there any guarantee I’ll survive the transition?”

“No,” he said reluctantly.

“Then what’s the point? And what gives you the right to take this chance from me if you don’t know?”

Nathan started to retort, then closed his mouth. Yes, if he gave her the Gift and she failed, he’d be cheating her out of her normal lifespan. But if he refused to Gift her when she could have passed, he’d be depriving her of centuries.

He didn’t have that right.

And yet the thought of looking into those big chocolate eyes and killing her was unbearable. He’d survived Christine’s death. He really wasn’t sure he’d survive Rachel’s.

It’s time for me to quit this job and go back to being a straight field agent. Nobody would be surprised. Court Seducers had a notoriously high burn out rate.

The question was, what was he going to do about Rachel? He’d accepted this assignment. Nathan didn’t back out on missions. Never had. Never would.

“Well?” she demanded.

“I’ll make you a deal. Take these two simulations and I’ll give you the Gift -- as long as I don’t find reason to believe you won’t make it.”

She studied him in suspicion. “Again, why bother?”

“It’ll give us both a chance to think. Make sure we’re making the right decision.”

The suspicion intensified. “So after I fight Super Chicken, you’ll make love to me? And then the third time after I do the next simulation?” When he nodded, she thought of a loophole. “What if it takes more than three?” It usually didn’t, but it wasn’t impossible.

“Then we’ll make love until you get the Gift.”

She stared at him, eyes narrowed in thought. Finally she nodded slowly. “You’ve got a deal.” She gave him a tight smile. “And I will hold you to it.”

Then she put the circlet on. With an irritated grunt, Nathan did the same.

Chapter Five

I, Rachel thought, staring up at the gaping jaws of the magical raptor, Am out of my mind. Why did I let him talk me into this?

You know perfectly well why, retorted a disgusted mental voice. You’ve got a thing for him, and you want his approval.

Idiot. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get herself eaten. Never mind that this was an illusion -- it felt real.

It wasn’t merely the gleam of moonlight on Super Chicken’s feathers, or the thing’s ear-shattering roars. It was the heavy reptilian scent of the creature, the reek of blood and meat on its hot breath and clinging to its gory claws. The whole effect made her hindbrain gibber like something out of an old Monty Python movie: Run away! Run, run away!

One thing was for damned sure. She didn’t want to find out what the simulation would feel like if Super Chicken ate her.

A huge clawed foot slashed at her head, and she threw herself aside. Her enchanted plate armor rattled as she hit the pavement rolling. She had to admit, she liked the armor. Unlike her bullet resistant vest, it weighed little more than her tank top and leggings. Which might be because a tank and leggings were what she was really wearing…

A deep male voice roared a battle cry, and Nathan leaped at the dinosaur, swinging an enormous claymore in a glowing arc. The magical blade was four feet long, with another foot of hilt so it could be swung two-handed. It was a good choice; nobody in their right mind would want to get any closer to the giant reptile than they absolutely had to.

As Nathan hacked at its muzzle, the creature jerked its head up. The gemstone over its eyes flared blue, and the blade rebounded off the blue hemisphere of the raptor’s magical shield in a shower of sparks. The dinosaur shrieked and darted its head at Nathan, toothy jaws open wide. He dodged as it snapped, teeth biting empty air. Whirling the blade as if it weighed no more than a chopstick, he darted in, slamming the weapon again and again against the raptor’s shield.

What had Nathan said about using magic in the simulation? “Look, all you have to do is picture what you want to do -- create a fireball or whatever -- and the spell will create an illusion of that attack to let you experience what it would be like. The point is to see how you would use magic if you had it.”

“Okay, what the hell.” She pictured a fireball appearing over her hand in the kind of spell she’d been watching Oriana perform for years.

Woosh! The ball of flaming sparks burst into being, its heat warming her palm. Wow, it worked! She hurled it at the raptor.

The ball of fire splattered against Super Chicken’s shield, raining sparks. And doing absolutely no damage whatsoever.

Crap.

How the hell had the original Magekind team defeated the thing? Rachel conjured another fireball and hurled it after the first. It, too, splashed off the shield.

Damn it. Taking a deep breath, she circled the monster, darting in, then dancing back, flinging blasts at the monster the whole time.

The attack served its purpose. Super Chicken quit chasing Nathan to turn its beady orange glare on her again.

Yeah, that’s a real improvement. Think, damn it, she told herself, summoning another fireball. The original team beat it somehow. What the hell did they do?

“Come on, KFC!” Rachel bounced on her toes in a mocking little dance as she conjured a fireball in either hand. “I’ve got your eleven herbs and spices ready!”

The raptor lunged toward her, swinging tail narrowly missing Nathan’s head. The vampire whirled aside like a bullfighter, his cold blue eyes locked on the creature, looking for an opening. The raptor twisted its long neck around, jaws gaped wide, and darted its huge head at him. With a shout, Nate leaped back a heartbeat before those jaws snapped shut.

Rachel strangled a scream, summoned a fireball, and hurled it at the raptor, missing its fanged muzzle by a fraction of an inch. At least I got closer that time.

Her eyes widened as realization struck.

The two other times she’d thrown a fireball at it, Super Chicken’s shield had blocked her blasts three feet away. This time she’d missed by inches, as if the shield hadn’t been up. Of course not. KFC was trying to bite Nathan. It couldn’t bite through its own shield. That’s it. That’s the key!

Her mind worked furiously as she saw what she had to do. But fuck, if she miscalculated…

Tough. She had to do something. Sooner or later, they’d start slowing down -- and it was all they could do to stay ahead of the monster now. She had to take a chance.

“Here, chicky chicky chicky!” she caroled, and flung a trio of fireballs at him one after another. It hissed in displeasure. “I’ve got a bucket with your name on it!”

The huge creature hesitated, glaring toward her. Nathan swung his sword at it, and it wheeled to snap at him. He backpedaled, whirling his sword in arcs that sent sparks raining off Super Chicken’s shields. “Quit smarting off at the monster and keep your mind on the job!”

Damn it, Nate, work with me! Gritting her teeth with frustration, Rachel darted forward, readying her spell as she ran. She’d only have a fraction of a second…

But she wasn’t used to running in plate armor. The inner edge of her right thigh plate caught against her left, tangling her legs. She fell, tucking and rolling as years of martial arts training came to the rescue.

“Rachel!”

Heart pounding, she flipped onto her back -- to find herself staring up into the raptor’s throat through a forest of teeth as its head shot toward her face. With a shout, she conjured a spear just as she’d planned, then rammed it between those open jaws, into the creature’s soft palate.

It threw its head up with a squeal of agony. Before it could rear away from her, Nathan raced up, leaped onto the raptor’s back, and began chopping furiously into its neck with his claymore. Blood flew. She barely rolled clear as the raptor collapsed to the ground, the vampire hacking at it like a berserk lumberjack.

Before she could conjure a sword of her own, alley and dinosaur disappeared.

* * *

Rachel blinked. She stood nose to nose with Nathan, as she’d been when she put on the circlet. Startled, she stepped back a pace. She would have felt a little shamefaced at the reaction, but he looked as off-balance as she did.

For a moment, they stared at each other, both breathing hard. “Did we actually do any of that? I mean, were we running around the dojo fighting an imaginary lizard? And if so, how did we avoid slamming into walls?”

Nathan hesitated. “I don’t think so. As I understand it, the spell suppresses your voluntary muscles the same way your body doesn’t act out dreams.”

Rachel staggered over to the nearest wall, leaned against it, and slid down to sit on the floor. “Then why do I feel like I went ten rounds with a giant prehistoric chicken?”

Nathan walked over and sank down to sit at her side. “Because it was one hell of a simulation.”

They spent the next few minutes trying to breathe. Finally, he turned his head to look at her. “So, was falling on your face all part of your cunning plan, or are you just clumsy?”

“Some of both.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You do realize if you’d tried that shit in real life, you’d have gotten yourself killed. And maybe me with you.”

“Only if it didn’t work.”

When her heartbeat finally slowed, she asked, “So did I pass?”

Nathan turned his head to give her a smile that sent a bolt of wicked heat through her. “Yeah, you passed. Quick thinking with the spell.”

She studied him, a little suspicious. “Does that mean I get my prize?”

He gave her a slow, dark smile. “Oh, yes.”

Rachel hesitated. She wasn’t sure she was ready to make the transition from fighting for her life -- illusion or not -- to kinky vampire sex. Her gaze dropped to his incredibly erotic mouth, to its firm curves, to the plump lower lip. On the other hand…

“Need a little encouragement?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I am a Court Seducer…” That bearded smile of his took on a pirate’s wicked tilt. He leaned in and cupped her jaw in one large, calloused hand, black pupils dilating, darkening the arctic blue. Her breath caught as she stared back, and her slowing heartbeat began to speed again. Taking his time as if thoroughly enjoying the anticipation, he lowered his head and took her mouth.

It was a long kiss, his lips warm and silken against hers. His tongue traced the seam of hers, until, with a moan of surrender, she opened to let him slide inside. Wet, delicious, he thrust in and out in a swirling, seductive tease, until desire kindled low in her belly, growing hotter when he growled against her mouth. He angled his head, eyes closed as he tasted her, slow and hot and passionate. His thumb brushed back and forth over her cheekbone in tiny caresses that seemed to promise her body more.

Nathan gave it to her a heartbeat later when his free hand found her breast. His fingers tightened, seeking the peak of her nipple, teasing it until arousal became outright lust. She gasped against his working mouth. God, he really is good at this.

Bracing herself against his chest, Rachel felt hard muscle roll under her palms. She dragged up a leg, threw it over his hips. Rachel sat up, deliberately grinding against the erection she could feel growing behind his zipper. He opened his mouth, inviting her tongue inside. With another soft moan, she thrust in deep. Moaned deeper when she felt the smooth edge of a lengthening fang.

He slid that warm hand into the hair at her nape, cupping her head in long, possessive fingers. She drew back until she could meet his burning gaze. “I think I want to shower. I’m feeling…” Her lips curled into a smile that felt almost as wicked as his. “Sweaty.”

His own teeth flashed as he smiled back, slow and dark. “Can’t have that.” He lifted her off his lap like a kitten, and she scrambled to her feet as he rose, graceful as a panther.

For a moment they stood there looking deep into each other’s eyes. His glittered vividly blue with lust as he took her hand and led her from the dojo.

* * *

By the time they walked into the master bedroom, Nathan’s cock felt hard enough to hit a fastball. His gaze fastened on the long line of her neck as she stepped in front of him, at the pulse throbbing under the skin. His attention slid down her lithe back to the lush curves of her ass in those skin-tight leggings, his fangs aching almost as much as his dick.

His mind flashed back to her fall, when the raptor pounced on her with open jaws. Though he’d known it was a simulation, in that instant it felt utterly real.

It wasn’t the first time Nathan had seen a female partner endangered in combat. Hell, twice in the past four hundred years, Majae had died in battle beside him despite everything he’d done to save them. Yet he’d never felt such icy terror for any of them. Desperation, yes. Fury, yes. Their deaths had left such deep scars, he sometimes still woke from nightmares of guilt and grief. But not such deeply intimate panic, as if Rachel meant far more to him than any Latent ever had. Ever should.

Then there’d been the look on her face as she’d stared up into all those teeth. Fear had contorted her features for a split second, only to vanish as the spear popped into her hand. She’d driven it between the raptor’s open jaws with a fluid surge of power and courage.

Nathan had endured some truly horrific things over four centuries, but he wasn’t sure he could have dared those fanged jaws without flinching. And yet she’d only been a cop for three years.

Damn. Just damn.

Ahead of him, Rachel stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, drawing in a startled breath. Jolted back to the present, Nathan smiled, knowing exactly what she was reacting to.

Like his bedroom, his bathroom was designed for seduction. A huge Jacuzzi bath took up one side of the room, while the other was dominated by an enormous glassed-in shower. Both were more than big enough for two -- or three.

“Want a bath?” he purred, enjoying the thought of Rachel neck-deep in bubbles.

She looked back at him, big brown eyes taking on a sexy twinkle. “Not this time. Baths tend to wash away certain… lubricants.”

“That would be inconvenient.” Because as hard as his cock was, she needed all the lubrication she could get.

She eyed the glass enclosure. “I think a nice pounding shower might be more the ticket.”

“I’m definitely in the mood for some kind of pounding.”

She laughed, the sound throaty. “You’re a bad, bad man.”

“Lady, you have no idea. Yet.” He caught the hem of her black tank top and pulled it off over her head. She made a purring sound of approval as he unsnapped her bra, baring the smooth, curving line of her back.

They undressed each other slowly, hands stroking, leaning close now and then to kiss a shoulder or nibble some sensitive spot. When he slid a hand to the cluster of curls between her long legs, he found her deliciously wet, tight around his thrusting fingers.

Then her cool little hand encircled his hot cock, and he almost swallowed his tongue. She stroked him slowly, her dark eyes locked on his face, a smile curving her seductive lips. Her free hand cupped his balls, squeezing gently even as she milked the length of his cock with the other. Shuddering, he let his head fall back.

With a wicked little laugh, she tugged gently on his shaft, leading him to the shower by his cock. Arousal coiled deep in his belly, heating his balls and drawing them tight.

She released him and turned away with a taunting little twitch of her bare ass, slid the shower door open, and reached inside to turn on the spray. His hands curled into fists of need as she took her time adjusting the temperature to her satisfaction.

Nathan was seriously considering grabbing her when she moved into the enclosure and reached for the bottle of body wash in its wall niche. He followed, his cock leading the way.

Rachel’s eyes dropped to the thick, aching shaft. A grin of pure lascivious anticipation spread over her face as she squeezed body wash into her palm. The air filled with the scent of vanilla, intensifying as she put the bottle down and lathered her hands. As he stared hungrily down at her, he glimpsed a flash of dark brown irises as she watched him through her thick lashes.

The little minx knew exactly what she was doing to him. And she liked it.

But then, so did he.

She reached for him with those soapy hands, stroking them over his pectorals, tracing the rolling ridges of his abdominal muscles and ribs.

Breath caught, he watched her, feeling hypnotized by her sensual absorption. As Court Seducer, he was normally the one who did the seducing. His Latent partners were more likely to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted to.

But she was more ambitious than that. And she wasn’t simply teasing him, either. Fascination filled her lovely gaze as she stroked him, traced each muscle and hollow with her fingertips in ticklish, tempting brushes.

She seemed captivated by his chest hair, which he’d refused to shave despite the demands of Millennial fashion. There was something intensely erotic in the sensation of those gentle fingers touching him, spilling long rolling streamers of foam. Spray from the shower pattered warmly on his shoulders and back as he stood there, submitting to whatever she wanted to do.

Enjoying it all. Needing it all.

And every time she touched him, he grew harder, the ache in his balls building until they felt as heavy as lead.

Rachel fell to her knees on the tile and slid closer to stroke the length of his shaft with her soapy hands, washing him, caressing his full testicles, then rinsing off the soap. And driving him slowly insane. Forcing him to fight the need to reach down, snatch her off the ground, and shove his cock deep.

Leaning forward, Rachel opened her mouth. Nathan stiffened in anticipation. Slowly, so slowly, she took him into her mouth an inch at a time, lips engulfing his cock in a maddening possession.

The sight of her, kneeling there at his feet -- looking submissive when he knew damned well she was anything but… He shuddered, fisting his hands against the need to snatch her off the floor and jam his way into that tight, creamy pussy.

Her lips tightened around his cock, began to suck so hard her cheeks hollowed. The blazing eroticism of the sensation made his head fall back in a low, rough groan of frustrated lust. She sucked harder, drawing deeper, letting him feel the wet, snug grip of her mouth. The pleasure blinded him with its primal intensity.

Unable to help himself, he began to roll his hips, savoring each velvety slide. Every sweet entry and retreat scalded his nerves with a pleasure so intense it was almost pain.

He wondered how much longer he could take it.

* * *

Rachel closed her eyes as she concentrated on the hot weight of him in her mouth. His shaft was so damn long and thick she couldn’t take it all, but the effort to do it anyway was impossibly arousing.

She angled her head, working him another fraction deeper, remembering the way he’d looked swinging that claymore as he tried to behead the raptor. All that incredible muscled strength and speed, that vampire grace. The raw essence of masculinity.

She drew off his shaft until her lips encircled the fat corona of his cock, savoring the heated sensation of his velvet skin in her mouth. Before she could sink deep again, he seized her shoulders. “Let go!”

She obeyed, and he jerked her off her knees and into his arms. Her wet body slapped against his as he pulled her into a biting kiss that let her feel the tips of his fangs. He swirled his tongue between her lips, and she opened wide for him, groaning in yearning.

He’d pulled her off balance, forcing her to stand on tiptoes in his arms. Every ridge and hollow of him branded itself on her senses. So very hot and male. He pulled back, his hands clamping into the flesh of her ass, lifting her right off her feet. Raising her high, he looped an arm around her waist and used his free hand to aim his cock. She hissed in shocked excitement as he impaled her on his thick length.

“Oh God!” she gasped at the stark delight of his cock stuffing its way so very deep. Calloused hands gripped her thighs, and he began to drive. Deep, burrowing thrusts ground the big shaft in and out.

They were eye to eye in this position. His vivid irises were thin rings around black pupils, his fangs bared and fierce. She clung to one brawny shoulder, gripping the back of his neck with her free hand to brace herself as he dug in, fucking her hard, until the air filled with the slap of wet bodies.

Helpless, hypnotized, she stared into his face, dewed with water droplets from the shower, hair lying in glossy curls over his forehead, his black goatee dripping.

Each sawing thrust drove her another inch closer to the climax she could feel maddeningly close. Almost. Almost…

“Rachel, Merlin’s Cup, Rachel…” he hissed between his teeth, his handsome face set. “You drive me insane!”

“Nathan!” she gasped back, eloquence utterly beyond her, aware of nothing but the sensation of that powerful cock shuttling in and out. He worked her body as if she were a rag-doll. The climax built deep in her belly, a hot spring coiling tighter and tighter and tighter… and…

A fountain of fire blazed up her spine, jerking and twisting her body in his hard arms as she howled. Helpless. Utterly overwhelmed.

He roared, head thrown back, fangs glinting white. Coming. Coming…

As she writhed under him, he lowered his head, eyes glittering, and buried those fangs into her throat. She screamed in shocked arousal. He drank her blood while his body emptied itself in her.

And the spell that was Merlin’s Gift awoke deep in her DNA.

It seemed each tiny hair on her body rose, and she smelled ozone, sharp and metallic. A heartbeat later, every one of those hairs burst into flame as a wave of heat seared her skin. Rachel screamed in shock at the sensation -- not pain, but so overwhelming it rattled her brain in her skull like a pea in a tin cup.

Light exploded all around her, sparks flaring among the shower’s falling water. The Gift! The thought lashed her consciousness with a combination of joy and stark terror. It’s the Gift! No, it’s too soon, this is only the second time… But the light grew brighter and brighter…

Until it all went black.

* * *

One minute, Nathan was coming like a fire hose as he drank from Rachel’s slim throat. The next, it felt as if the head of his dick seemed to detonate in a rolling magical explosion that made him see stars. It felt like the first pulses of the Gift.

He pulled his fangs from her throat as sparks showered around him. No, it’s too soon! Unless some other vampire -- I’ll kill the son of a bitch!

Another blazing vibration shook him, burning up his cock, deepening his fear. Not yet, I’m not ready to give her up…

Then the convulsion of magic sputtered and bled away, leaving him shaken. Damn, that was close. As the fireworks faded from his vision, he found himself staring into her huge brown eyes, wide and startled -- before they rolled back in her head. The grip of her long legs around his hips suddenly relaxed, and she went limp so fast he almost dropped her.

“Rachel!” Tightening his hold on her ass with one hand, he snapped the other up to brace her back. She sagged boneless in his arms, out cold. “Fuck!”

His heart pounding, he slid his shaft carefully out of her, then leaned her against his chest as he freed one hand to turn off the water. “Rachel? Rachel, what’s wrong?”

But she made no answer, her head lolling, eyes closed. Concentrating on his vampire senses, Nathan heard the beat of her heart, still strong and steady. Cursing under his breath, he slid the shower door open, shifted his grip to cradle her, and strode into the bedroom.

He laid her carefully down on the bed, ignoring the way they both streamed water on the silk sheets. “Rachel?” Patting her cheek, he tried to rein in his growing panic.

He’d spent too many years in combat to freak out like this. She’d simply fainted. It was probably a little precursor to the Gift, something he’d seen before. Yet still, fear gave his mouth a brassy taste. “Rachel!”

To his relief, her long lashes fluttered, opened. She blinked at him, more than a little dazed. “Nathan?” Her voice cracked on the second syllable. “What was…” Her eyes widened in abrupt panic. “The Gift!” Jolting against him, she tried to sit up.

“Shhh,” he soothed her, stroking her wet hair back from her face. “You haven’t transitioned yet.” He tried out a seductive smile, despite his own lingering alarm. “We get to make love one more time, remember?”

The reminder didn’t seem to soothe her, judging from the way her eyes darted around as if looking for something that wasn’t there. Nathan felt a chill of alarm, reminded of the times he’d seen new Majae staring at magical energies vampires couldn’t perceive.

Some of those witches had gone crazy.

He shut that thought down hard; she didn’t need to read it on his face right now. “Everything’s fine. Latents get these little precursor jolts from the Gift during the second session. Some people even have visions. It’s no big deal.”

She relaxed a little. “Oh.” Looking up at him, Rachel frowned as a drop fell off the end of his nose. “You’re wet.”

“So are you.” He added a deliberately suggestive curve to his smile. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well, I am. I think we soaked the mattress.”

“So we’ll move to the guest room. Hang tight, I’ll get you a towel.”

* * *

Half an hour later they were dry, and Nathan was watching her sleep.

Rachel had dropped off almost the moment her blow-dried head hit the pillow. Absently, he stroked a chocolate curl. It felt like silk under his fingertips, smelled of vanilla and her unique scent.

A line furrowed the fine skin between her brows, as if she were worrying even in her sleep. That precursor jolt had evidently brought home the risk she was running with the Gift.

Nathan’s brows lifted as he realized his own fears had become a lot less acute. When had that happened?

Oh, yeah. The moment he’d seen her drive that spear down the raptor’s throat. Any woman with that much self-control wasn’t going to lose it even under a full-force blast from the Gift.

Absently, he stroked that gleaming curl again, wondering why he felt so damned sure of that. It wasn’t as if the Latents who’d failed had been a weak-kneed lot. And yet, his instincts insisted Rachel would make it.

That very conviction sent a flash of unease through him. What was it about her that got to him so powerfully? He remembered his irrational terror when that simulated raptor tried to eat her. That hadn’t even been real, and he’d still freaked the hell out.

It wasn’t as if he was a virgin in this game. He’d long since lost track of the exact number of women he’d Gifted over a century as a Court Seducer. He’d even been mildly infatuated with one or two of them, charmed by their grace and intelligence. Which was no surprise; Majae candidates didn’t come in “run-of-the-mill.”

His feelings for Rachel were something different. Something more intense.

Maybe too intense.

Yet he couldn’t believe a woman with so much strength and self-control would go insane from the Gift.

Staring at the ceiling, Nathan felt a smile spread over his face. He had the feeling it probably looked a little goofy.

Rachel’s going to be okay.

When she woke up, he’d tell her they could forgo that final simulation. There was no point in putting either of them through the wringer again. And quite frankly, he had no interest in watching her endure another life-and-death struggle. He might have no choice except to deal with real-life shit storms, but that didn’t mean he had to put up with simulated ones.

Chapter Six

“You think you’re leaving me?” a male voice snarled over the sounds of a child’s sobs as Rachel eased through the small brick ranch’s open back door. “Think again, bitch!”

Evidently Don Gordon had been drinking again.

She swore under her breath. She’d been called to the Gordon household three times in the last six months because Don was a very mean drunk. And when he got mean, he liked to use his fists on his wife and kids. She’d done her best to get Eileen to leave the abusive bastard. Sounded like the woman had finally had enough.

No surprise. The last time Rachel had answered a domestic here, it had taken her and two other cops to get the bastard under control, and she’d still ended up with a black eye. Gordon was big, and he was good with his fists.

She had the ugly feeling this was going to be worse. For one thing, her backup was still ten minutes away.

Ten minutes she probably didn’t have.

“Put the gun down, Daddy! I’m live streaming this. Everybody will see what a jerk you are!”

Sounded like Amy, the fifteen-year-old.

“I don’t give a shit,” Gordon hissed. “Put that fucking phone away, or all your little friends will see you get your head blown off.”

Luckily, one of those friends had called 911. Even more fortunately, Don didn’t know it; Rachel had driven in with her siren off, afraid of triggering a tragedy. With a little more luck, she’d be able to get the drop on the son of a bitch and convince him to go quietly to jail. Yeah, don’t get your hopes up.

“Put the phone away, Amy,” Eileen snapped, her voice shaking.

“But Mom…”

“This isn’t the time!”

Moving quietly on her rubber-soled cop shoes, Rachel ghosted through the painfully neat kitchen, her 9 mm Glock drawn.

“Now, Don, put down the gun,” his wife said in the low, too-calm voice of a woman trying to deal with an unexploded IED. “You’re going to hit one of the kids.”

“I sure as fuck am. I’m sick of you making me look like a pussy, unable to control my own wife.”

Rachel edged along the kitchen wall toward the doorway into the living room. Luckily, there was no door, so she could see Don standing in the middle of the living room. He held a pistol in a one-handed grip he’d probably seen in a movie.

The gun was trained on Eileen Gordon, a plump thirty-five-year-old who held four-year-old Emily in her arms. The child clung to her mother, crying stormily. Dark-haired Amy, fifteen, stood at her shoulder, cell phone pointed at her father.

Way to pour gasoline on a situation, kid. Rachel studied the scene grimly. I’ve got to get this under control before someone ends up dead. Mind working frantically, she tried to come up with some course of action that wouldn’t end badly. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a lot of options. Just going to have to go for it and hope for the best.

“Police!” She stepped into the living room, weapon aimed squarely in the center of Don’s chest. “Put the gun down, Mr. Gordon.”

As she’d hoped, Don jumped and swung the gun to point at her. Luckily, it didn’t go off, which had been a calculated risk. He glared at her. “What the hell are you doing waltzing into my house? You didn’t even knock!”

“You gave me probable cause with that live-streamed death threat on Facebook,” she told him dryly. “Drop the weapon and kick it over to me.”

His thin face flushed dark red. “Fuck you! You get outta here before I put a bullet in your brain!”

“Daddy!” The four-year-old sobbed, lunging toward him, forcing her mother to tighten her grip and sidestep to keep from dropping her.

“Drop the gun,” Rachel said in the cold, steady tone she’d learned in the Academy. “I will not tell you again, sir. Drop. It.”

“Daddy!” Emily wailed. “Don’t hurt my daddy!”

“Dad, don’t!” Amy yelled.

“Shut up!” Don screamed. “Just shut the hell up!” He swung his gun toward them, his red face rage-contorted.

Shit. They were too far away for Rachel to shove them to safety, and there wasn’t time to grab him. She jumped in front of his gun -- and fired. The double reports of the two weapons sounded as thin as a pair of cap guns.

His bullet felt like stepping into the swing of a baseball bat, a brutal impact that drove the breath from her lungs. Her knees buckled, and she hit the carpet at the same time Gordon did. Gagging, she curled into herself, fighting to breathe.

A few feet away, the life drained from Don’s eyes. The hole she’d put in the center of his chest looked far too small to kill a man. It barely bled at all before it stopped.

His heart had stopped.

As she crouched there trying to breathe, Emily began to scream, high-pitched and hysterical. “Daddy, daddy, daddy!”

Instead of the pain Rachel remembered, anger surged through her, building rapidly into rage that burst from her mouth in a furious torrent. “You ungrateful little brat. I took a bullet for you!”

Wait, this isn’t what happened, a faint mental voice protested.

Snarling, Rachel glared at the three people whose lives she’d saved. Emily clutched her mother’s neck as she sobbed hysterically. “She killed my daddy!”

Eileen curled her arms protectively around her child and shrank away from Rachel, much as she had from Don’s gun.

Amy crowded against her mother, eyes wide and frightened, the phone now aimed at Rachel. Her voice sounded numb with shock. “She killed him. She really killed him…”

This is not what happened.

“I saved you!” Rachel snarled, as the storm of rage intensified until red began to cloud her vision. “I could’ve been killed doing it, and you have the gall to whine?”

Slowly, she rose to her feet. From the corner of one eye, she saw her lifted hand began to glow. A ball of fire ignited around her fingers, burning blue white with the heat of her rage.

No! Horror fought rage as she tried to stop herself, to regain control, but the fury only burned hotter.

So did the fireball.

With a screech of rage and madness, Rachel hurled the fireball. All three shrieked in terror as the blast hit them. They screamed even louder when they burst into flames and began to burn.

No no no no! a mental voice wailed in horror and disbelief.

She didn’t care.

“Rachel!” Nathan charged into the room, only to jolt to a stop, staring at the three people who screamed and writhed, burning like torches. “What have you done?” He whirled toward her. “I told you what would happen! I should never have touched you!”

“Fuck you!” And she threw a ball of fire at his head.

He tried to leap aside too late. He bellowed in agony as he burst into flame. Somewhere inside her, a tortured mental voice screamed in grief and horror.

* * *

“Rachel!”

Hands closed over her shoulders, and a body pressed against hers, containing her flailing struggles to escape. “Rachel, wake up!”

Her eyes snapped open as she sucked in a desperate breath. Her throat felt raw, as if she’d been screaming. “Nathan?”

“There you are.” He smiled down at her, though his eyes were dark with concern. For a moment, she was afraid to believe he was even there. “You were having a nightmare. Sounded pretty nasty.” He stroked a lock of hair back from her eyes, his touch soothing.

“That’s putting it mildly.” Shaken, she wrapped her arms around him, taking comfort in his solid warmth. The reality of him, here and safe.

It had only been a dream. Thank God.

But it had felt so fucking real. With a shudder, she pressed the side of her face to his muscled chest. His heartbeat thumped, strong and steady. Listening to it, her own heart slowed its thunder.

Nathan stroked the line of her hair tumbling down her back. “Want to talk about it?”

“I dreamed about the shooting. It was all exactly the way it happened, right up until the end.” Rachel swallowed as her throat went tight with remembered revulsion and fear. “Right up until Don Gordon died, and his little girl began screaming. Then suddenly I was a Maja, and I blasted them. They caught fire and started burning.” She squeezed her eyes shut at the sick memory of screaming. “You came in, and I…” Her voice broke, shook. “… I blasted you too.”

“Yeah, that does sound ugly.” His hand stroked her shoulder and down her back, then up again. “But you’re awake now.”

So why don’t I feel any better? A thought nagged at her, a niggling fear. Something Oriana told her once…”Gee said sometimes Latents get visions the second time.” Her stomach gave a sick lurch. “What if it was a vision?”

“It wasn’t.”

“But…”

“The shooting already happened, Rachel.” Nathan cupped the side of her face in one warm hand until she looked up at him. “Horrific as it was, it was only a nightmare.”

“I… guess that makes sense.” She remembered his hoarse screams, the stink of burning flesh…”But what if I do go insane?”

“You’re not going to go insane.” There was no doubt at all in his eyes.

“You’ve been telling me for the past two days that I could lose it and kill people. Kill you.”

“And I was wrong. You’re not going to hurt anyone.”

God, she wanted to believe him. “So you’re sure you can handle me?”

He snorted. “No, I’m sure you’re not going to go crazy.”

Frowning, Rachel studied his face -- and saw no doubt whatsoever. “What changed your mind?”

“Seeing how you handled Super Chicken. The idea of being eaten alive is a universal human nightmare, but you didn’t even hesitate. You were completely cool under fire.” He grimaced. “I, on the other hand, was ready to flip the hell out just watching you.”

“But…”

Before she could finish, he leaned down and kissed her. It was a slow kiss, deep and gentle, almost iridescent with tenderness.

Despite her fear, she found herself relaxing into his hold, into the delicate pressure of his mouth. His tongue stroked along hers, feeling nubby across the top, slick and wet along the underside, a slow swirling thrust. When he drew back at last, his eyes were very dark. “Besides, I know you.”

“Forty-eight hours isn’t long enough to know anybody.”

He smiled slowly. “Except for everything important: your courage, your intelligence, your strength of will. As for the rest of it, I’m looking forward to finding that out.” His gaze was utterly steady, as if he meant every single word he’d said.

Rachel nibbled her lower lip as she studied him. God, she longed to believe he was right. “Look, I want to be a Maja. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of. But I don’t want it if it means risking your life.”

“It’s not a risk.”

“You don’t know that. You said yourself, there’s no way to tell whether a Latent can withstand the Gift.”

He hesitated a long moment. “Ultimately, no. Look, I have no idea how many women I’ve Gifted over the past century. Probably three hundred. Of those, five did not survive. The others did. The odds are in your favor.”

“But all it takes is one,” Rachel told him. “Any cop can tell you that. We do traffic stop after traffic stop until it’s as routine as brushing your teeth. Until you pull over that one motherfucker who’s got a body in the trunk. Next thing you know, he’s going for his gun instead of his license. It’s the routine that gets you. Routine makes cops careless, and then it makes them dead.” She cupped his warm cheek. “I don’t want to be the one who kills you, Nathan. I’d rather not try at all than take that risk with your life.”

He snorted. “I’m a Magekind agent, Rachel. It’s not exactly a desk job.”

“I still don’t want to take that risk.” Which meant she’d never be able to sleep with him again. Jesus, that thought made her feel like her heart was being torn from her chest.

Nathan frowned, studying her. “I have an idea that may clarify things for you. May even help you process what happened with the Gordons.” He grimaced. “Which, from the sound of it, you desperately need.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“A simulation of the shooting. Oriana created it based on that Facebook video the Gordon kid shot.”

She recoiled. “But we know how that turned out. And I have no desire to go through it again.” Especially after that nightmare.

“Look. Morgana originally created the simulation circlets to give people a chance to examine what went wrong on missions. It lets you try other alternatives that might’ve worked better, maybe learn from your mistakes.”

“So you do think I did the wrong thing.”

He shook his dark head. “Fieldwork is never cut and dried. There are times we end up with results that aren’t ideal, but still the best to be had under the circumstances. The simulation will give you the chance to either learn something or make peace with the outcome. Either way, I think it’s worth it.”

Rachel hesitated. He had a point. Besides, she’d do a lot never to have to hear Daddy, daddy, daddy! again. “Is there time before the sun comes up?”

He glanced down at his watch and shrugged. “It’s 2 AM. There should be.”

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Let’s do it.”

Ten minutes later, they stood in the dojo as they slid the circlets into place again.

* * *

Rachel found herself in the Gordons’ living room, Nathan by her side.

The Gordons all stood frozen, as if in mid-motion. She frowned, noticing none of them were in the positions she remembered. “I thought this was going to be like the thing with Super Chicken -- where I take part in the action.”

“Not this time. I want you to see what actually happened.”

The simulation exploded into movement. With a cry of pain, Eileen Gordon reeled back from her husband’s brutal slap, her back hitting the living room wall.

Emily wailed as she clung to her sister’s thigh. Amy fumbled with her cell phone, getting it up and pointed as Don hit his wife again. Tears ran silently down the girl’s face, and her eyes were wild, but there was determination in the set of her lips. “Stop it! I’m live streaming this, Daddy!”

“Wait a minute,” Rachel said, and the simulation froze. “This isn’t what happened.”

“This is before you arrived,” Nathan explained. “You didn’t see the whole video?”

“Just what was on TV.”

“They must’ve edited it. The video ran for eleven minutes before you got there. One of Amy’s friends called 911 five minutes in. You arrived six minutes after that.”

When they fell silent, the simulation took up where it left off. Don whirled on his daughter and took a threatening step toward her, one big fist drawn back.

“No, Don!” Eileen grabbed for his forearm.

Without hesitating, he spun into a brutal roundhouse punch that slammed his wife into the wall behind her. Framed pictures fell with the sound of splintering glass. Rachel hadn’t even noticed the debris when she walked in.

Eileen slid down the wall and landed on her backside with a bang. Don ignored her, trying to snatch Amy’s phone. The girl pushed her little sister clear and ducked his clawing hand. Emily ran to the couch, kneeling to shove her way between it and the wall.

“Even if you break the phone, the evidence is online!” Amy yelled, darting away from his wild swings at her head. “Give it up and go sleep it off!”

Amy has more guts than I realized, Rachel thought.

He swayed there, flushed with rage and frustration, head down like an infuriated bull.

Even if Rachel hadn’t known how this was going to turn out, she would’ve recognize the signs of a situation about to go critical. Don Gordon was like a lot of abusers -- a bully who took his sense of self-worth from his ability to terrorize anyone smaller and weaker than he was. And if those he viewed as his natural inferiors dared stand up to him, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill to reclaim his sense of power.

Amy played a very dangerous game.

Don glared at her, his lips pulling off his teeth. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You fuckin’ don’t mouth off to me!”

“And you’re not supposed to treat us like this!” Amy cried, backing away, the camera still aimed at him. “I hate lying about bruises or sayin’ Emily fell out of the swing when you broke her arm!”

“If you little bitches did what I told you, I wouldn’t have to teach you a lesson!” He lunged forward, swinging a fist at his daughter’s fragile face.

Eileen grabbed his ankle as he went by. He crashed to the floor, cursing.

She scrambled up, yelling at her daughter. “Why did you do that? He’s going to kill us!”

“You got that right, cunt!” He staggered to his feet again, eyes glittering, teeth bared, then turned and reeled off down the hall.

“We got to get out of here.” Eileen looked around, her face white and tight with desperation. “Emily! Where’s Emily?”

“Behind the couch, Mom.” Amy wore a sick expression, as if it had finally dawned on her that she’d miscalculated.

“Emily, come out!” Eileen ran to the couch and pushed it aside so she could pull her child out from behind it. The sobbing child fought her hold, forcing her to bend over and scoop her into her arms. At four, Emily was no longer a lightweight, and Eileen had to struggle with her writhing weight.

“Daddy! What are you doing?” Genuine terror rang in Amy’s voice.

Rachel jerked around and saw why. The big man stood in the hallway with his semi-auto in his hand and a twisted grin of fury and anticipation on his face.

“Put the gun down, Daddy!” Amy pointed the phone at him with shaking hands. “I’m live streaming this. Everybody will see!”

“I don’t give a shit,” Don hissed. “Put that fucking phone away, or all your little friends will see you get your head blown off.”

“Put the phone away, Amy,” Eileen snapped, her voice shaking, as she moved quickly toward the teen, Emily in her arms.

“But Mom…”

“This isn’t the time!”

“Now, Don, put down the gun. You’re going to hit one of the kids.”

“I sure as fuck am. I’m sick of you making me look like a pussy, unable to control my own wife.” He wore the frenzied expression of a man doing something he’d always fantasized about.

A slender figure stepped into the room, wearing a black Tayunita County uniform, a gun in her hand. Her expression was grim and cold. “Police!” she said in a sharp, icy voice, weapon aimed squarely in the center of Don’s chest. “Put the gun down, Mr. Gordon.”

Rachel drew in a breath. It felt fucking weird to look at herself, not in a mirror or recording, but as if she were someone else.

Don jerked around, pointing his gun at the simulated Rachel. “What the hell are you doing waltzing into my house? You didn’t even knock!”

“You gave me probable cause with that live streamed death threat on Facebook. Drop the weapon and kick it over to me.”

“Fuck you! You get out of my house before I put a bullet in your brain.”

“Daddy!” The four-year-old sobbed, lunging toward him, forcing her mother to tighten her grip and sidestep to keep from dropping her.

“Drop the gun,” the Rachel simulation ordered. “I will not tell you again, sir. Drop. It.”

“Daddy!” Emily wailed. “Don’t hurt my daddy!”

“Dad, don’t!” Amy yelled.

“Shut up!” Don screamed. “Shut the hell up!” He swung his gun toward them, his face contorted with rage.

“Freeze it,” Nathan ordered. Around them, all the figures stopped in mid-motion, like a freeze frame. For a long moment, he and Rachel studied the scene. “Doesn’t look to me as if you had a lot of alternatives.”

She moved from her simulation to Don, then paced the distance to his three targets. At last she shook her head. “I’m not seeing anything. I really am too far from him to disarm him, and too far from them to knock them out of the way. Which is pretty much what I thought to begin with, so at least there’s that.”

“Continue,” Nathan said.

The simulation jumped in front of Don’s gun. The double report as they both fired was deafening -- totally unlike the thin pops she remembered. Both shooters went down at the same time, Rachel’s simulation hitting her knees as Gordon toppled.

Her gaze fell on Eileen and Amy, standing huddled together with the little girl. Both the woman and the teen wore expressions of disbelief that gave way to relief. Then, a moment later, to guilt.

“Daddy, daddy…”

“Freeze it,” Nathan ordered, cutting off the child’s scream.

“I didn’t realize how fast it happened,” Rachel said hoarsely. “It seemed to take so much longer than that.”

“Adrenaline does that. It doesn’t really slow down time, but it does give that illusion.”

She moved to crouch over Don’s crumpled body. “His mother told a reporter I could’ve shot him in the arm.”

Nathan lifted a dark brow. “Funny, you don’t look like the Lone Ranger.”

“I sure hope not.” Rachel snorted. “I aimed center mass because that’s what we’re taught in the Academy. Arms and legs are risky targets with lives on the line.” She considered it, then shrugged. “What the hell, I’ve always been a good shot. Let me try it.” She moved over to where the Rachel simulation had been standing when Don pointed his gun at his wife and kids.

There was a disorienting flash. Suddenly she found herself standing in the same location as the simulated Rachel a moment before, looking down the barrel of Don’s gun.

“Shut up!” Don bellowed. “Shut the hell up!” He swung his semi-auto toward his wife and children, his face contorted and red with rage. Rachel switched her aim to his weapon arm, high on his shoulder. The two weapons thundered.

This time the little girl screamed. Her mother shrieked, “Emily!”

The man staggered with a shout of pain, clutching his wounded shoulder. The pistol tumbled from his hand even as Emily started to fall from her mother’s arms.

“Bitch!” Don roared, and dove on the gun, grabbing it with his left hand and pointing it at her. Distracted by the sight of Emily limp and bloody in her hysterical mother’s arms, she was too late bringing her gun up again.

This time the baseball bat hit her in the head.

* * *

When Rachel opened her eyes, she stood in the dojo.

Nathan looked disgusted. “And that, boys and girls, is why you don’t shoot people in the arm.”

“No shit.” She probed her forehead gingerly, looking for the bullet wound. There wasn’t one, of course.

He eyed her, visibly unhappy. “I trust that answers your questions.”

“Is that really what would’ve happened?”

Nathan shrugged. “I have no idea. There are a lot of factors at play, and you can’t really predict all of them. But those circlets act like magical computers -- they’re designed to create the most likely result of whatever action you take in the simulation.”

“In that case, I prefer the outcome I got in real life,” Rachel said, pulling off the circlet and handing it over. He took off his own and put both back in the wooden case.

Watching him, she blew out a breath. She felt oddly… light, as if a weight had disappeared from her shoulders. She’d had to kill a man, yes, and she’d left a child without a father. She knew she’d carry the weight of that act for a long time, a reminder she could never make such decisions hastily. But the simulation had brought home that she could have made worse choices.

Ultimately, Don Gordon had forced her to choose between the lives of innocents and killing him. He could have surrendered, but he’d been too determined to make those who loved him pay for the slight to his ego. The responsibility for his death was his.

She took another long, relieved breath, and smiled. Really smiled.

She lost the relief when Nathan said, “We’ve still got two hours until dawn.”

Time enough for the Gift. Oh God.

* * *

As Nathan watched, Rachel’s eyes widened, and the peace of a moment before gave way to anxiety. She glanced away, as if not wanting him to read her fear. He didn’t tell her that her scent gave her away with its acrid tang. “I… uh… I need a shower.” Her dark gaze slid to his, then away. “Alone. I need a little time to think.”

“Sure,” he said easily. “The house has more than one bathroom and a magical water heater. You can use the one in the master bedroom, and I’ll take one of the guest rooms.”

She nodded, turned, and strode from the room just short of running. He watched her go, then went to put the circlet box away in the armoire.

Actually, she wasn’t the only one who needed time to think. He felt every bit as shaken as she did. He simply hid it better.

Nathan stood for moment, staring blankly at the selection of gleaming weapons. An image flashed to his mind: the bark of Gordon’s gun, Rachel falling backward with a bullet hole in her forehead.

Just a simulation. And yet when the bastard bent and picked up his gun, it had been all Nathan could do not to leap on him and beat him like a drum.

The idea of the whole exercise had been to give her an opportunity to see what would have happened if she’d done something different. He was not supposed to interfere, but his instincts had howled in protest like starving wolves.

He’d never felt so damned out of control.

Nathan had trained plenty of rookie agents and never had any trouble whatsoever letting them handle their tests on their own.

Not that it was the first time he’d lost his shit when Rachel was endangered. Look at the way he’d hacked at Super Chicken after it tried to eat her. The idea of the simulation had been to see how she worked with a partner in a combat situation. Nathan had planned to hang back, observe what she did, maybe even make himself a target for the raptor to see how she handled it. Instead he’d gone after the creature as if it was a real threat.

It had been fucking irrational. He’d known that at the time, and yet he’d found himself doing it anyway.

Standing by and watching Gordon shoot her had been even worse.

It was only when Nathan heard the hiss of water coming from upstairs that he realized he’d been standing staring into the open armoire for several minutes. Prodded, he closed its twin doors and headed off in search of a shower in the nearest guest room.

What the hell is she doing to me? Never mind, the answer to that was obvious. I guess I owe Galahad an apology. He’d given his friend hell a decade ago when the knight had fallen like a brick for Caroline Lang, a brand-new Maja Galahad had only known a matter of days. Nathan had told him he’d mistaken infatuation for love.

Now Nathan understood just how far it was possible to fall, just how fast. This was definitely no infatuation.

He’d slept with too many women over the past four centuries to let his dick do his thinking for him. Known too many incredible Majae to mistake respect and friendship for love.

I love Rachel Kent.

Nathan stopped dead in the doorway of the guest room as the thought hit him with the impact of a bullet, shredding his old life, his old conception of himself. The shocking thing was that it didn’t hurt at all.

His lips curved into a manic grin. I love Rachel Kent.

And I just spent the last forty-eight hours demonstrating what an asshole I can be.

The grin vanished.

Chapter Seven

Rachel stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her hair was still wet from her shower, and drops of water slid down her face like tears. I did it. I’m about to become a Maja.

When she’d been a little girl, she and the other Kent kids had played Magekind, the girls throwing imaginary spells, the boys swinging wooden swords and pretending to turn into wolves. Yet out of five generations of Kents, she was the only one chosen.

But all she could think of was that fucking dream -- of going mad and throwing a fireball at Nathan. Watching him burn like a torch. The other nightmares of the Gordon shooting had tormented her with horror and guilt, but none of them had triggered such cold, absolute terror.

Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not going to happen. The Council chose me, and the odds are I won’t go insane. But when she pictured Nathan burning, those odds didn’t seem nearly good enough.

Swallowing, she rubbed both hands over her face to wipe away the water as a cold realization rolled over her. I can’t do this.

Aloud, she told her reflection, “Yes, you can. You’re strong.” She made herself remember the cool, determined face of the Rachel simulation. That woman wasn’t a coward.

That woman wasn’t in love with Nathan Allard. I am.

In the mirror, her reflected eyes went wide as the realization slammed into her. No. Oh no. I’m not that big an idiot. And as Oriana had told her more than once, only an idiot fell for a Court Seducer. Some of them were honest, but some, like Dominic Bonnhome, told whatever lie they had to do the job. Then after you changed, they dropped you and went on to the next sucker.

Nathan’s not like that. He never lied. He was too brutally honest, and his sense of honor was too acute. Far from lying to get her to agree, he hadn’t sugarcoated the cost of being an immortal: You’re going to end up fighting and killing. You’re going to end up watching everyone you love die. Not only your mother and father, but your sister and your nieces and your nephews.

Yet as painful as the thought of those losses were, the idea she might kill Nathan was worse. She knew -- really knew -- she wouldn’t survive that. Not just figuratively, either; Oriana and half the Majae in Avalon would wipe her off the planet.

A thought she found perversely comforting. If she hurt Nathan, she’d need killing.

I can’t do this. Rachel had never considered herself a coward, but when it came to Nathan… I’d rather be a coward than Nathan’s murderer.

She was going to have to tell him. Him, Oriana, and her family. They were all going to be pissed.

And she’d never see Nathan again.

Shoulders slumping, she picked up the blow dryer and started getting her arguments ready for the conversation she dreaded.

* * *

Emerging from the master bedroom fifteen minutes later, she found Nathan waiting in the hallway, looking impossibly handsome in black slacks and a black silk shirt, open at the neck. Rachel, on the other hand, was still dressed in the same clothes she’d worn in the simulation because she hadn’t brought anything else.

The vampire gave her a devastating smile and held a big hand out to her.

She didn’t take it. “I… I need more time. I don’t think I’m ready.”

For a long moment he said nothing, his gaze steady on her face. It was all she could do not to shift under that challenging stare. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re not exactly the first Latent who’s gotten cold feet over the third time. Almost all of them do. Considering they can end up dead, that’s understandable.”

“It’s not dying I’m worried about. It’s hurting you.”

His expression softened, and his lips twitched up in a smile. “I realize that. But I’ve tried putting off the third time before, and I’ve found the longer Latents think about it, the worse their anxiety gets. Some of them even backed out completely without even trying.”

She blinked at him. “That was what you were trying to get me to do.”

“Yes, and I was wrong.” This time when he reached for her hand, he didn’t give her the option of refusing. His grip felt very warm and strong. “The Magekind need you, Rachel. I need you. And if you refuse the Gift, I’ll never see you again.”

Her fingers tightened convulsively on his. “I’m in love with you.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, a wave of heat rolled up her face, and she knew she was blushing furiously. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t release her. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.” He let go only long enough to step in close, his arms sliding around her. “Like I mean this -- I love you.”

She stared up at him in stunned disbelief. For a moment, a crazy joy started to bloom in her like an Amazonian orchid, exotic and delicately beautiful.

Followed a heartbeat later by anger. “Don’t say that!” She planted a palm against his chest and pushed. He resisted her, only turning loose when she glared at him. “Don’t lie to me so I’ll accept the Gift. I know how this works.” She sounded bitter even to herself. “I fall for it, then after I’ve changed, you just walk away, leaving me wrecked.”

“Do you really think I’m that dishonorable?” There was more than offended pride in his eyes. He looked almost… hurt.

“Oriana says that kind of thing happens. Dominic Bonnhome…”

“Is an ass,” Nathan told her hotly. “He thinks anything he does to get more Majae in the field is justified. I have never operated that way. I never led a Latent to believe I felt something I didn’t.” He caught her shoulders, his expression softening, the sincerity in his eyes seductive “If I tell you I love you, I love you. That’s too important to lie about.”

“There hasn’t been time for either of us to fall in love. Infatuation, yes. Lust, yes. Love, no.”

“Rachel, I’m four hundred years old. I know my own mind. I’ve made love to a lot of Latents -- beautiful women, intelligent women, accomplished women. But I never felt about any of them the way I feel about you. Yes, I fell for you hard and fast. But I have fallen, and I’m too much a realist to deny it.” He reached out and cupped her face in his sword-callused hands, looking deeply into her eyes.

She stared up at him, feeling the magnetic pull of him -- not only his remarkable looks, but his intelligence, his strength, his indomitable sense of honor. Deep within her, the orchid burst into full bloom, delicate petals unfurling in his heat.

Joy. Anxiety. Hope. And…

“You know yourself too,” he said softly. “Do you love me?”

She stared up into his handsome face as her heart beat hard in her ears. “If I didn’t, the idea of losing control and hurting you wouldn’t terrify me this much. You’re right -- the odds are I’ll survive the Gift. If it were only me, I’d go for it. But it’s not only my life on the line. Even if I never see you again, I want to know you’re alive. I have to know you’re alive, or none of it means anything.”

“God, Rachel, what you do to me.” Nathan took her mouth in a famished pounce. His tongue thrust deep, swirled around hers, in a deeply erotic claiming. He kissed her until her nipples hardened, her knees went weak, and she clung to him as much to stay upright as anything else.

Finally he drew back and looked down at her, his gaze fierce. “Do you trust me?”

She swallowed, and tightened her grip on his biceps. “Yes.”

“I would not do anything to put your life in danger,” Nathan said, voice low and intense. “If I thought you wouldn’t survive the Gift, I would tell you to go home and forget me. To find some young cop and settle down, because I can’t stand the thought of losing you either.” He stroked the hair back from her face. “You won’t fail.”

Somehow the certainty in his eyes made her anxiety lose its grip. She took a deep breath. “All right. But I think we should call Oriana for backup. Just in case.”

“I am not making love to you with your great-whatever-grandma in the next room. Besides, she already gave me a gemstone to crush if I needed her. She could gate here before you’d have time to blink.” Nathan slid his hand down the length of her arm to wrap his fingers around hers, then drew her after him. “But we’re not going to need her. Come on.” Instead of guiding her back into the bedroom, he led her down the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something.”

Rachel blinked as she saw what was waiting for them on the kitchen table -- a bottle of champagne, two crystal champagne flutes, and two silver trays covered with fruit and canapés. “What’s this?”

“Hey, don’t look at me -- it wasn’t my idea. Though it does look pretty good.” He walked to the table, picked up the card propped against the bottle, and handed it to her.

Rachel flipped it over to recognize Oriana’s flowing calligraphy. I thought you needed a little something to keep your strength up -- Gee. “Apparently Oriana’s afraid I’m going to starve.”

“Can’t have that,” Nathan said, and picked up both silver trays. “Get the bottle and glasses.”

Laughing, she obeyed.

He led the way out the kitchen door and onto a broad deck that wrapped around the back of the house. Balancing the two trays with his usual effortless grace, Nathan descended a set of wooden steps that led down into a garden surrounded by a stone wall.

She blinked, taking in the surrounding garden. Rosebushes covered in white blooms vied with flowerbeds planted around massive oaks and magnolias. A sprawling water feature tumbled over stones into a pool inhabited by swimming koi in brilliant hues. At the center of the garden stood a padded platform, half-bed, half-couch, covered in red silk and piled with cushions. A red silk canopy covered it, lengths of scarlet spilling around the bed from a wrought iron pole at its head.

Rachel studied it, her eyebrows flying up. “Oriana again?”

“Nope, my idea. A couple of Majae created it for me.”

“How did that silk survive the first rainstorm?”

He grinned at her. “Magic’s a wonderful thing.”

“I guess there are advantages to having a lot of witch girlfriends.”

“Ex-girlfriends,” Nathan corrected, putting the trays on a small table beside the platform. He gave her a gimme gesture, and she handed over the champagne. He popped the cork with a flick of one thumb, a trick she suspected no mere human could have duplicated. The champagne foamed, and he poured it into the two flutes she held out to him.

Setting the bottle down on the table, he took one of the glasses and raised it in toast to her. “To our newest Maja.”

Rachel forced a smile, despite the jolt of anxiety the toast sent through her. “And to the Magus who plans to make me that way.” They both sipped, and the champagne foamed cool and delicious over her tongue.

He gestured at the platform with his glass. “Have a seat. Let’s see what goodies Oriana has provided for her favorite great-great-great-great grand.”

“I wouldn’t say favorite…”

“I would.” He picked up something triangular wrapped in a perfect flaky crust and popped it into her mouth. “But then, you’re easy to love.”

The canapé seemed to melt on her tongue, tasting of cheese, chicken, and roasted vegetables. She moaned in delight. “Damn, it’s too bad you don’t eat. This is wonderful.”

Nathan gave her a wicked little smile. “I’m sure I’ll get a chance to dine on something delicious before the night’s over.”

She snorted. “I see what you did there.”

“I do love a good double entendre.” He contemplated the selection, plucked up a finger sandwich, and fed it to her.

As Rachel purred in pleasure at the taste, he leaned forward and kissed her. She melted against him, losing herself in the lush eroticism of his mouth. Against her lips he whispered, “You’re right. That is delicious.”

“Yeah,” she croaked, as her head spun at the taste of Nathan and champagne, “it certainly is.”

He pushed her gently down on the platform, and sat down to begin feeding her fruit, hors d’oeuvres, and swallows of champagne, kissing her between bites.

At first she was too distracted by the taste of him and the hot blue gleam in his eyes to think about how the night would end. Gradually, though, the thought of the Gift penetrated her sensual haze.

Don’t think about that. She’d decided to trust Nathan, and she damned well wasn’t going to back out now. Yet even as she tried to concentrate on the taste of the champagne, on the softness of his lips, the memory of him burning in the dream kept flashing through her head.

Cut that out, damn it.

He pulled back a fraction, staring into her eyes, a ghost of a frown playing around his mouth. His eyes narrowed, and she spotted a spark of anger, determination.

Ooops. He’d picked up on her mood. Damn it, Rachel, don’t ruin this! Nothing’s going to happen…

Nathan bursting into flames… Stop that. Damn it, that’s worse than “Daddy Daddy Daddy.”

He brought both hands up to tangle in her hair -- and curled them into fists. “I thought you said you trusted me.” He tightened his grip until the hold stung.

Rachel licked her lips as the sheer dominance in the gesture gave her a little kick of arousal. “I do.”

His smile was slow and deliberately nasty. “Maybe you shouldn’t.” Eyes narrowing, he curled one corner of his upper lip into a snarl. “You need to stop worrying about whatever you’re imagining and start worrying about what I’m going to do to you.” Planting a hand in the center of her chest, he pushed her down on the bed.

Slowly, he rose to his full height and started unbuttoning his shirt, opening a triangle of carved male flesh that grew wider and longer. He shrugged, and the fine black fabric slithered off his shoulders, revealing sculpted brawn.

Oh my God, the vampire is doing a striptease. The thought should’ve been funny, but the hot look in his eyes made her heart leap into a gallop.

Moonlight gleamed off the width of his shoulders, edged the rolling contours of his abdominal muscles and ribs, silvered the line of hair that led her gaze down…

A thick bulge began to harden behind the fly of his slacks. Remembering how it felt shoving its way to the balls, she licked her lips. Thick muscle worked in his biceps and corded forearms as he unbuckled his belt, the ring and click of the metal sounding very loud in the darkness.

The tenderness in his eyes had vanished so completely she almost wondered whether she’d imagined it. Instead, there was stark lust in the curve of his lips and the dark glitter of his eyes. The black goatee enhanced the seductive-bad-vamp he threw off, especially when his grin revealed the tips of lengthening fangs.

Rachel expected him to toss the belt aside, but instead he doubled it and reached for her. “Come here.” It was unmistakably a command, but he edged it in a rough, erotic purr that aroused even as the order pissed her off.

She jerked back, dodging his hand. “Oh, hell no. I outgrew spankings a long, long time ago.”

Nathan laughed, low and dark. “I have no intention of spanking you.” The tip of a fang flashed. “At least not until you beg.”

Despite the heat that zinged through her at that idea, she pretended to glare. “Then you’ll be waiting a hell of a long time.”

Now his smile was definitely taunting. “Maybe, maybe not.” Nathan slapped the strap against his hand thoughtfully, then shook his head as if in regret. “But I have something else in mind for tonight.”

And he pounced, springing onto the bed and landing astride her hips.

“Hey!” But before she could use any of the hand-to-hand techniques she knew, he captured one wrist in a loop of the belt. She tried to shove him away with her free hand, but he caught that too, wrapping the belt around it. As she sputtered in outrage, he looped the belt’s end around the post that supported the platform’s canopy.

Reluctantly intrigued, Rachel stared up at him as he knelt astride her. Moonlight edged his handsome face in silver, slid along hard male flesh until he looked like a marble Renaissance warrior come to life. The belt that circled her wrists felt warm from his body heat.

This really shouldn’t be turning her on so much.

When he reached down, grabbed the fabric of her black tank in both fists, and ripped it as if it were wrapping paper, her arousal only grew. “Cut that out!” And couldn’t she come up with a more convincing objection? Evidently not. Mostly because all the blood had left her brain, headed south for the evening.

“No.” Nathan dropped the shreds of her shirt in the bushes. Sitting back on his heels, he admired the sight of her pinned in the grip of his thighs, his gaze blatantly possessive. “Now, that’s much better,”

“I had no idea you were this kinky.”

He flared his nostrils, as if breathing in her scent. “Says the woman wet as a peach.”

Rachel looked down at the bulge behind his zipper. “Says the man who could choke a Clydesdale.”

He flashed his fangs. “Why, thank you.” He leaned over her, slid a finger underneath her bra between the cups, and ripped the fabric.

“Again?” she mocked, though her mouth was dry. “You are really hard on my clothes.”

“Get used to it.” He settled on the bed beside her, eyeing her tight, hard nipples. “That’s much better.” He aimed a glittering look at her face. “They were soft a minute ago. I was deeply offended.”

“Can’t have that.”

“No.” Slowly he leaned down to one erect tip, opening his mouth, revealing the tips of his fangs again. She expected him to suckle her, but instead he dragged one sharp point over her nipple. “Mmmmm,” he murmured, his lids dipping as if he savored the anticipation of a bite.

Rachel gasped, the sound soft and strangled. He gave her a grin so taunting it was all she could do not to squirm in hot arousal.

A deliciously calloused hand covered the other breast, thumb stroking back and forth, each strumming contact sending another juicy, delighted jolt through her body. He teased her, swirling his tongue over her nipple, then closing his lips for a hard suckle as she grew wetter and hotter.

At last, Nathan lifted his head with a smile so wicked, she wanted to beg. “I’m feeling a little confined.” Sliding off the bed, he reached for his zipper. It hissed, the sound erotic.

Rachel watched in hypnotized fascination as he slid the slacks down his hips. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed dark. Remembering what it felt like the last time he’d fucked her, she moaned in helpless anticipation.

The vampire grinned at the sound. “Now, that’s what I like to hear.” As she watched in shameless fascination, he slid the pants the rest of the way off, revealing the long, muscled power of his strong legs, the bunched muscle of his ass.

She swallowed, vaguely aware of the jangle of the belt buckle overhead. Her hands twisted and pulled at the leather, instinctively trying to get free. She ached to touch him. Taste him. Feel that thick cock driving to the balls into her slick cunt. It was frustrating as hell not being able to reach for him, yet the tight grip of the belt only drove her lust higher.

When he reached for the waistband of her leggings, she rolled her hips up to help him get them off. He promptly wadded them up and held them to his nose, breathing in deep. “Oh, yeah.”

“Pervert.”

“You bet your sweet, fragrant pussy.” Sliding back onto the bed between her legs, Nathan grabbed her ankles in either hand. With effortless vampire strength, he planted a big hand behind each knee, bent her legs double, and pinned them against her chest. Rachel gasped, arousal increasing. Instinctively, she tried to push against his hold, only to discover she couldn’t move at all.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he told her, settling on the mattress between her widespread thighs.

“This… isn’t exactly comfortable,” she panted.

“I don’t care.” Lowering his head, he licked. The sensation of his hot tongue scooping between her sensitive folds made her squirm with a helpless, high-pitched whine. The pleasure burned, intense as a shot of whiskey, flaming along her nerves.

Holding her legs helplessly pinned, Nathan settled down to feast, his wet tongue swirling and dancing over her clit, around the opening of her cunt, lapping back and forth between her swollen lips. Each pass of his tongue sent another fiery bolt burning its way through her consciousness, stoking her arousal into a forest-fire blaze.

She found herself fighting his hold, trying to straighten her legs, pushing not so much to get away as because she could not sit still under the lash of delight.

And every time she strained and struggled against his controlling hands, her lust increased another flaming degree.

He, meanwhile, completely ignored her muffled kicks, the writhing buck of her hips as he concentrated on licking and sucking and tasting her as if she was something delicious. Driving her out of her mind.

Rachel felt the climax winding tighter and tighter with every pass of his tongue, every delicate nibble of his teeth, each teasing press of his fangs against delicate flesh. Distantly, she was aware of her own cries, the moans and high-pitched whimpers, the gasped pleas.

The orgasm exploded over her like a tsunami crossed with a firestorm, drowning her in wave after wave of burning, helpless pleasure. When it finally subsided, Rachel lay panting and limp, thigh muscles twitching from the volcanic climax.

She was still quivering when Nathan rose from her pussy and sat up between her legs, spreading her captured thighs even wider apart.

“Nathan,” she moaned, both helpless hands twisting at the belt.

“Don’t you move,” he snarled, and released one leg long enough to grab his cock and aim it for her pussy. Settling on top of her, he caught that knee again and slammed in right to the balls.

She screamed, a strangled sound of agonized pleasure. He felt huge in this position, and he wasn’t small to begin with. It felt as if the entire massive width of him reached all the way into her lungs.

Nathan stared down at her, his lips peeled back from his fangs, eyes wide and fierce with lust. “Now,” he rumbled, his voice hoarse. Bracing himself on her captured legs, he drew out and slammed in.

“Nathan!” She yelped, half in protest, half in unbearable delight.

He began to fuck her, riding hard, grinding deep, making her feel every single inch of him. She writhed, feeling the hot pulses begin again, throbbing and clenching deep in her sex. Each digging thrust made her breasts dance. Her hands twisted and jerked at the belt.

Another orgasm gathered, building like a storm, spurring her to grind against his working hips, chasing the taunting pleasure that seemed to race ahead of her. Light flashed in the corners of her eyes, some illusion created by climax-battered senses.

Nathan threw back his head with a roar, his big hands clamping down on her knees, his handsome face contorting as he drove to the balls and froze. She felt the first pulse as he began to come, streaming hot into the depths of her cunt. The heat grew, brighter and hotter until it burned over the line into a pain so ferocious she screamed.

The lights she’d seen a moment before exploded across her vision, comets and wheeling stars that left glowing afterimages.

The Gift. Oh, shit, it’s the Gift!

Stars spilled across the sky overhead, bursting into colors she’d never seen before, didn’t even know the names of. Raining stinging sparks over her skin. The sting intensified into a fiery, whirling burn.

It hurts! Gee never told me it hurt!

The firestorm built, a tornado of energy that battered her senses until it seemed to sear the inside of her skull. It’s going to kill me!

Helplessly, she writhed, lost in the pain. As if from a great distance, she heard Nathan’s voice. “Don’t fight it, Rachel! Let it come, relax into it, and it won’t hurt you.”

Sparks in a hundred shades of red and gold and blue whirled around her, pelting her like glowing hailstones. Ozone choked her with the stink of burned metal and lightning. She fought to breathe. I’ve got to gain control or it’s going to destroy me! Got to get it out!

Her hands burned as she jerked at the belt, the pain intensifying until she felt it even through the blizzard of fire whipping her skin. Throwing her head back, Rachel stared at the belt wrapped around her wrists.

Magic bucked against the base of her skull, pushing, pushing as she stared at her hands, teeth clenched against the screams clawing her throat. Pushing…

Her hands burst into twin fireballs surrounded by a corona of sparks that rained over her arms.

The agony eased slightly, as if it had found an outlet. She threw more magic into her fingers, trying to bleed off the pressure. The rain of sparks intensified.

“That’s it!” Nathan shouted. Or at least she thought he shouted -- she could barely hear him for the thundering magic. “Use it! Burn it off, gain control.”

Burn. Nathan, burning…

The fireballs flared brighter, sparks spinning inside them like a cross between a snow globe and the Fourth of July. Brighter. Brighter. Panic raked her. What if she lost control altogether? “Oriana! Get Oriana! I’m losing it!”

He leaned over her, ignoring the terrifying globes of energy inches from his head. “It’s all right! Rachel, it’s all right. Listen to me. Everything’s fine. You are still in control.”

“I’m not! I can’t hold it!” Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought the power, threw back her head and screamed, trying to reach Gee with a spell, a telepathic message. Something. “Oriana! Gee!”

“Rachel, you are not losing it.” His voice cracked like a whip. “Look at the belt!”

At the hard command in his voice, her eyes opened, automatically going to the belt looped around her wrists. Except it was no longer a belt.

Thick steel manacles encircled her wrists, and chains bound her to the post that could have held a bull elephant. As she stared at them in shock, the storm of magic seemed to retreat. The fireballs died away from her hands, leaving her stinging hands whole, miraculously unburned. “Where the hell did those come from? They weren’t there a minute ago…”

“You conjured them.” He cupped the side of her face, drawing her attention. “You’re not out of control, baby. Just the reverse. Your first instinct on receiving all that power was to protect me. That belt would never have held you, but your strength of will is more than up to the job.” He bent and kissed her.

Rachel sobbed once in relief against his mouth and kissed him back. As her lips moved against his, she tasted salt from the tears sliding down her face. “I did it.”

He drew back far enough that he could smile into her eyes. “You did. I knew you would.”

She laughed, voice strained from screaming. “You did not.”

“Maybe not at first, but as soon as I got to know you.” He stroked her hair, the gesture infinitely tender. “You do realize Oriana is going to be insufferable for at least a month.” Leaning in, Nathan gave her a slow, surprisingly sweet kiss. “I’m going to have to bear up. I owe her for giving you to me.”

She grinned at him, suddenly giddy. “Did it ever occur to you she gave you to me?”

“As long as we’re together, I don’t care.” He sobered, his gaze going solemn. “I think I need to warn you.”

She blinked, exhausted, woozy, not sure she was tracking. “About?”

“I’m an asshole.”

“What?” Definitely not tracking. “Where did that come from?”

“Because you’re high as a kite on the Gift, and I have no business asking this question right now. But I’m also too ruthless to wait for you to sober up.” But he paused, hesitating, as an unfamiliar vulnerability filled his eyes. “Will you marry me?”

Rachel stared at him, incredulous. They barely knew each other. This was crazy. She…

Didn’t give a damn.

And no, it wasn’t because she was high on magic. Nathan, courageous, gorgeous, and occasionally an asshat, was the man she loved. “God, yes.” Rachel tried to reach for him, wanting to slide her arms around his shoulders. Her arms jerked short, chains rattling. Craning her head back, she saw the manacles still encircled her wrists. “Oh hell.”

Rich laughter boomed.

“Oh, shut up. You think I can conjure a key?” She sat up, trying to examine the cuffs. “Oh, crap, they don’t have a keyhole!”

Nathan laughed harder.

“Keep it up, and I’ll give you a pair of those donkey ears.” Just when she was starting to feel truly desperate, sparks rained from her wrists. The manacles disappeared.

“Too bad. I think I like you in bondage.”

“Keep it up, Eeyore, and you’ll be the one in the chains.”

Laughter faded from his eyes, leaving only tenderness. “As long as you’re the one to put me there.”

She was off the bed and in his arms without having any idea how she got there. The kiss he gave her made her see stars brighter than her magic.

Angela Knight

Angela Knight is the New York Times best selling author of books for Berkley, Red Sage, Changeling Press, and Loose Id. Her first book was written in pencil and illustrated in crayon; she was nine years old at the time. A few years later, she read The Wolf and the Dove and fell in love with romance. Besides her fiction work, Angela’s publishing career includes a stint as a comic book writer and ten years as a newspaper reporter. Several of her stories won South Carolina Press Association awards under her real name.

Angela lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a hostage negotiator for the County Sheriff’s Office. Contact Angela via email at angela@angelasknights.com, or visit her website at www.angelasknights.com. Find more of Angela Knights Changeling titles at http://changelingpress.com/author.php?uid=26.