Master of Desire (Merlin's Legacy 6), page 3
Now the great room did indeed look as if it had been hit by a bombing run. Furry bodies lay among the broken remains of the two couches, a coffee table and three armchairs. Rodin’s marble bust of Conal’s father lay shattered, along with the wall-length flat screen. The wooden floor was deeply scarred by claw marks, and blood spattered the room like the aftermath of one of the Saw flicks.
Conal’s gaze fell on the kitchen chair still lying on its side, surrounded by broken, bloody chains. For a moment, he was bound and helpless, watching the werewolf lean in to bite a chunk out of his right pec, as slowly, as sensuously, as a woman kissing a lover… Siobhan had mocked him throughout the torture by video chat. “You earned this, you bastard. You betrayed me. And you’re going to die screaming. I’m going to give you a death that will haunt Mother for centuries.”
What is it with her and Maeve, anyway? The bitch was thousands of years old, not sixteen.
Essus snorted in their magical link. Immortality just gives some people more time to go insane. And Siobhan was never that stable to begin with.
Maeve glanced at him and winced, making him wonder what showed on his face. “Those jeans are disgusting. You need clothes,” she told him, and flicked her fingers. Magic swirled, and he looked down to see black slacks, loafers and a black silk shirt.
The goddess glanced around. “Might as well clean up this mess while I’m at it.” She began strolling around the room, gesturing spells at corpses and puddles of blood, which instantly vanished in swirls of sparks. The Rodin reassembled itself as broken furniture glowed white-hot, then reappeared, leather couches and armchairs whole, the flat screen back on the wall. The kitchen chair vanished. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw it in the breakfast nook, back at the once-cracked table that was now whole again.
Not that it mattered. He was going to have to replace the nook furniture anyway. He’d never be able to sit in that chair without remembering how it felt to have bites taken out of him like a piece of cake.
Conal set his teeth and forced the memory down into the depths of his brain with all the rest of the trauma. Damn it, this isn’t the first time Siobhan’s fucked with me. Though it was in the top two of the worst.
Wings fluttered, and a familiar weight settled on his shoulder. He managed not to flinch. Oh, my boy, Essus thought, pain and guilt reverberating in the link. I’m so sorry I failed you.
“Bullshit.” Conal said aloud, stroking a finger over his friend’s feathered head. “You ripped into those fuckers like they were field mice. If I hadn’t been so scared for you, I’d have laughed my ass off watching them dodge your claws and yip.”
“You did save his life,” Helena agreed, giving the eagle a smile. “If you hadn’t reached Maeve in the Mageverse…” She flicked a glance at Conal, and her mouth clicked shut.
“She’s right, my eagle,” Maeve said. “You served me well this day.”
“Which reminds me…” Conal turned to Helena. “I haven’t thanked you for saving my ass.” His gaze dropped to the holster around her narrow waist. “You and your friend ‘with the particular set of skills.’”
“Yeah, that’s definitely one way to describe him.” She laughed, her dark eyes sparkling. Something about the throaty sound made his battered soul relax into uncomplicated yearning.
Damn, Maeve’s troubleshooter was beautiful. Her black curls were shaved close on the side, even as they rioted in a mohawk of long, springy curls to form a four-inch crest across the top of her head. More curls hung over her forehead, emphasizing the delicate angularity of her bone structure. Her eyes were big and dark and beautiful, her nose a wide, gentle curve above the most sensual mouth he’d ever seen.
Her snug shorts revealed long, lean muscular legs, as her crop top showed several inches of smooth, taut belly. The sunrise yellow fabric contrasted beautifully with the deep, rich brown of her skin. Even the wide black gun belt only emphasized the seductive curve of her hips.
Following his fascinated gaze, Helena glanced down at herself, took in what she was wearing, and winced. Her extravagant mouth drew into a little grimace. “Didn’t have time to change before I…” Her lips twitched. “Changed.”
Conal inhaled to answer -- and out of nowhere, a wave of hot arousal rolled over him. Just like that, he was intensely aware of her. The way those full breasts tented the fabric of her thin top drew his gaze. He ached to touch them, to taste them… Oh, Christ, I’m getting an erection. Where in the hell had that come from?
One minute he’d been fighting the aftershocks of torture-inflicted PTSD. The next, he was sniffing pretty werewolves. He was going to make Helena think he was some kind of pervert. Fighting the blend of embarrassment and lust, Conal looked away, shifting from foot to foot. Essus, reacting to his emotions, rubbed his head against his burning cheek with a soothing churrr.
Conal heard a sharp inhale and automatically glanced back at Helena.
Her dark eyes had widened. And they were looking below his belt. Arousal flashed over her face before she, too, glanced away. She cleared her throat. “Liam, maybe I should be wearing something more… professional?”
“I believe I have just the thing.” There was a note of amusement in the death god’s velvet voice.
Light flared around her, and when it faded, she wore black slacks and a long-sleeved white shirt, low-heeled black pumps on her feet. There shouldn’t have been anything seductive about such a stern outfit, yet Conal found himself staring, enthralled, at the curve of her hips, the way the white cotton lay over her breasts.
Shit shit shit. Could she smell how turned on he was? He needed a pillow to hide his crotch. Time to get his mind on something else. Now. He turned away from Helena and focused his attention firmly on Maeve. “I’m afraid this isn’t over. While they were torturing me, they used an enchanted phone to video the scene for Siobhan.” He ground his teeth. “She definitely hired them.”
Maeve flinched, but turned to face him. “Did she say why?”
“Revenge.” Conal hesitated a moment, but there was no point in trying to sugarcoat it. “She told me once I was dead, she was going to target my sisters and burn Beltane to the ground.”
“Bitch,” Essus muttered in his ear.
Helena frowned. “Beltane? Isn’t that a Sidhe Summer festival?”
“Yes, but it’s also a New York neighborhood. Five thousand people live there, mostly Changelings, but some full-blooded Sidhe and people from other Mageverse races. I’ve been helping them buy homes and start businesses.” Conal’s lips tightened. “Which is apparently enough to make Siobhan want to kill every last one of them.”
Maeve’s eyes closed and she dropped her head, one hand rubbing the spot between her brows. She looked uncharacteristically weary. “My daughter has always had a jealous nature.”
Helena frowned. “This makes no sense. I studied this kind of sociopath in FBI training. What’s the point of killing Conal before those he cares about? I would expect this kind of stalker to go after his friends, then the sisters, then Conal. Intensify his anxiety and suffering.”
“I doubt the wolves were actually going to kill him, no matter what they said,” Liam commented from his holster. “More likely they’d have taken him back to Siobhan, and she’d have healed him only to play with him a little longer.”
Conal felt his face go cold and bloodless. “That… does sound like Siobhan’s kind of game.” He shook off the fear. They didn’t take me back to the bitch. And they won’t. I’ll die first. “What do you think I should do?” he asked Maeve. “I could hire magical bodyguards for my sisters, maybe even a small army of werewolves for Beltane, but thousands of people are involved. Sooner or later, somebody’s going to get killed.” He flexed his fists restlessly. “I need to focus Siobhan’s attention on me so she’ll leave everyone else alone.” His gaze fell on Helena. Damn, she’d been amazing when she’d fought -- fast, skilled, fearless. Between Liam and her own werewolf abilities, she’d be more than capable of protecting his sisters…
“I could assign Helena and Liam to you for the length of this crisis,” Maeve said as if she’d read his mind. He wouldn’t put it past her. “They’re experts when it comes Siobhan and her rogue Sidhe.”
“Yeah, I noticed that when she blew the torturer’s head off,” Conal said dryly. “In fact…” Brilliant, beautiful and powerful. She’d drive Siobhan right up the wall.
Essus flexed his claws on his shoulder. Yes, and are you sure that’s a good idea?
Conal ignored his friend. “Helena, would you be willing to consider some undercover work?” Hope she doesn’t take that as a double entendre.
She eyed him, one dark brow lifting in interest. “What do you have in mind?”
Conal paused, trying to decide how to word this. What if he offended her? Oh, hell, might as well take a chance. “Would you be willing to play girlfriend?”
Helena blinked. “Oh, so that’s what you meant when you asked me to marry you. I thought you were out of your head.”
“Yeah, blood loss probably had something to do with the initial thought.” That and the sight of her in human form, as beautiful as she was deadly. “But on further consideration, it’s not a bad idea.”
“Well, it would definitely rivet Siobhan’s attention,” Maeve said dryly.
Helena shrugged. “If it saves lives, I’m in.”
Maeve waved a hand. “I have no problem with this. Work out the details between yourselves and let me know what you have planned. In the meantime…” Her voice dropped to a growl. “I need to have a word with my daughter.”
“Will do,” Helena agreed. “Good luck.”
Maeve hesitated, giving her a long look. “If you end up with your back to the wall, don’t hesitate to use all the weapons you have. You’ll need them against Siobhan.”
Helena went very still, and her warm brown eyes turned grim and cold. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Let’s hope. Farewell, my dears.”
What the hell was that all about? “Thanks for saving my life -- again,” Conal said.
Maeve gave him a fond smile. “It’s not a tithe on what I owe you. You saved my granddaughter from Siobhan’s snakes. That’s not something I’m going to forget.” One hand swirled, and a glowing point appeared, swelling into a dimensional gate. Maeve swept through it, the charms in her hair chiming softly in the presence of the spell.
As the gate vanished, Liam snorted. “Too bad there’s not a damn thing Maeve can actually do to Siobhan.”
Conal winced at a familiar jab of guilt. If only there’d been something he could have done to save the kids thirty years ago without involving Maeve. Unfortunately, there was fuck-all a Changeling could do to a demigoddess. Only Maeve could have kept Siobhan from hurting her ten-year-old daughter. He’d been willing to do whatever it took to save Iona and his sisters. And now the bitch is after the twins again.
“We’ve got to get my sisters to safety. I’m going to need my sword.” Conal headed into the bedroom, Essus riding one shoulder. Helena trailed him, silent as a shadow, alert as a wolf.
He’d aimed for elegance when he’d decorated the house, and his bedroom was no exception. Two of his stepmother’s abstracts adorned the eggshell-white walls with exuberant splashes of color. The four-poster bed was cherry, its elegant lines matching the bureau and armoire. Darkbane hung in its scabbard, shoulder strap hooked over one post.
The minute his hand closed around the wrapped leather hilt, a familiar surge of power rolled over him, seductive and intoxicating. Unable to resist, Conal drew the weapon. As it whispered from its sheath, the long, intricately engraved blade burst into leaping currents of violet energy that rolled up and down its length in waves. Conal blew out a breath as he felt the tattoo on his cheek, normally invisible, began to burn with magical energy.
Darkbane enhanced his strength and allowed him to shield against spell attacks. It wasn’t Liam, but between it and Essus, he could command enough power to defend his sisters. And Helena, too, should it come to that. She’d risked a lot to save him, and he’d damn well make sure she didn’t suffer for it.
“That’s one of Maeve’s blades, isn’t it?” she asked. “I can almost hear the Mother’s voice in its song.”
He looked up. “Yeah, after Siobhan…” left me with psychic scars…”Maeve let me choose a weapon from her armory.” The Sidhe goddess forged everything from stilettos to battleaxes with her own hands, all of them in high demand by every king and hero in the Mageverse. He counted himself fortunate that she’d given him such a gift -- especially considering she’d included the three Familiars in the package. Essus, Danu and Finvarra had been protecting him and the twins ever since.
“You chose well,” Liam said in approval. “Isn’t that Darkbane?”
“Yeah.” He sheathed the great blade and shrugged into the sword belt, so the scabbard hung diagonally down his back. “Now I’ve got to break the news to my sisters that we’re targets again. Aislyn can telecommute -- she runs the Donovan Foundation.” He looked up to find Helena watching him steadily. “The trouble is Branwyn. She’s a reporter more than an executive, and she’s going to hate having a bodyguard.”
Helena huffed. “She’d hate being Siobhan’s ‘guest’ even more.”
* * *
Conal had to leave a message for Branwyn, but Aislyn was easier to reach. She agreed to meet them at her condominium in Atlanta’s Buckhead neighborhood.
Liam opened a gate, but Helena had to stop Conal before he could step through. “Let us go first to clear the house. Siobhan may have someone waiting.”
He nodded tightly, though something in his eyes said letting her take the lead offended his sense of chivalry. Well, you’re going to have to get over that, my Changeling friend.
Time to shift. She closed her eyes, centered herself, and reached for the roiling burn that was her link to the Mageverse. The hot, bright pain of transformation blazed up in her chest like a bonfire and raged through her body from heart to fingers and toes. The world jolted and shrunk. Suddenly scent flooded her nostrils. When she opened her eyes, she found herself towering over Conal. He looked up at her and flinched, ever so slightly.
What the hell do you expect? He spent today getting tortured by werewolves. You’re furry. Get over it. Forcing herself to ignore the sting of rejection, Helena stalked through the gate, moving quickly, shotgun at the ready.
Swinging the long weapon in arcs, she paced quickly through Aislyn’s condo. It was an elegant, airy place, all white streamlined furniture and lush, colorful fabric throws. Huge photos hung on oyster-white walls, depicting grinning kids playing basketball or planting vegetables in urban gardens. A lanky Black graffiti artist wielded a spray can as he turned a run-down building into a canvass for rising hope. A grinning old man in a Vietnam Vet cap ladled stew from an enormous kettle into a teenager’s bowl. All Donovan Foundation efforts.
The apartment also smelled of cat. Not as in a litter box needed changing -- more clean fur and alien magic. Another of Maeve’s Familiars. What she didn’t smell was werewolf. Thank God.
Helena padded into the main bedroom and then paused. The antique furniture was carved dark walnut, with a mirrored vanity and bureau. The wide bed was draped in white lace and living vines. She eyed it. “You do realize hiding doesn’t work with a werewolf.”
A voice came from beneath the bed in a surprisingly deep female growl. “Get the fuck out.”
Liam spoke up. “Danu, it’s Liam and Helena. Maeve has assigned us to protect Conal and his family. Including you.”
Something small, white and very fluffy shot out from underneath the bed. Huge blue eyes stared up at them. “Why?” The cat’s voice climbed at least an octave in anxiety. “Is Conal all right?”
“He’s fine,” Helena said.
“Now,” Liam added.
Danu immediately caught the implications of his grim tone. “But he wasn’t before?” She had an accent as thick, sweet and Southern as pecan pie. “What happened?”
“Siobhan.”
Danu hissed, her ears flattening, her long, bushy tail lashing in rage. “That cunt!”
Helena suppressed the impulse to laugh. “Gotta agree there. Come on, Aislyn’s on her way.” She turned, almost tripping as the cat darted past her clawed feet. The little Familiar could move with surprising speed. Apparently, she was more fur than fat. And that was just one of the ways Danu’s appearance was deceptive.
Maeve told Helena once that a thousand years ago, she’d had a vision that spirits from an alien magical universe would soon arrive. She’d been waiting with her menagerie when the dimensional gate opened and the beings arrived… and promptly begun to die. The Mageverse’s magic was too alien for them to survive without living hosts.
The Mother had used her power to fuse the spirits and her animals. The result had been powerful Familiars with human-level intelligence and magical abilities. She’d treated them like her children ever since. Maeve did adore the Donovans if she’d given them three of those precious Familiars.
“We’re clear, Conal,” Helena called. “You can come in now.” She reached the living room just as he stepped through the gate, Essus on his shoulder, Darkbane shedding violet sparks in his hand.
“Conal!” Danu raced to launch herself at him in a weightless bound. He caught her neatly with his free hand, and the cat stretched to rub her head frantically against his jaw. “Oh, what did she do to you? Are you all right?” Shooting a glare at Essus, she snapped, “You were supposed to protect him, you useless feather duster!”
“He did,” Conal said. “Now let me sheathe this sword before I impale somebody on it.”
The cat huffed and leaped down, and he slid Darkbane into its back scabbard with the ease of a man who could do it in his sleep. Even as the blade clicked home, the apartment door flew open. Aislyn raced into the room in a whirlwind of agitated magic. “Oh, God, Conal!”
