Wicked Temptation: The Siren Coven (The Excalibur Duet) Page 2

  I groan in frustration and toss my hands into the air. “You’re impossible.” I turn and head down the hall in search of a bedroom I can claim as mine. My face burns with embarrassment, but there’s an ember of arousal smoldering in me as well. This man knows my body better than any other. He was able to play it like a finely tuned instrument, bringing about the most earth-shattering experiences I’ve ever had. But he also broke me and left me a shell of the woman I wanted to be.

  I peek my head into the first bedroom, a decent sized master with an attached bath. There’s no sign of anyone living here. The bed is pristine, drawers empty. Mine. If he doesn’t understand the value of a big ass bathroom, more’s the pity for him.

  An ache builds in the center of my chest as the sound of his voice replays in my mind. I had never thought I’d hear the deep rumble of his words again. The ache grows into a heavy pressure and I can’t breathe. My pulse races and a wave of sickness washes over me. I think I’m dying. He’s killed me. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial Helena. Her face pops up on the screen before I realize I made a video call.

  “Oh, dear God in Heaven, Gwen. What the bloody hell is wrong?” Her warm brown eyes are filled with concern.

  “I…can’t…do…this,” I say between gasping breaths.

  “What? Arthur? I know you said he killed you but is it really all that bad? I figured you two would just work together and move on.”

  “It’s not Arthur.”

  Her face pales. “What? I don’t understand. Is it a trick?” She glances over her shoulder and gestures wildly. My other sister’s face comes into view, her blond hair pulled to one side in a braid. “It’s not Arthur,” Helena tells her.

  “What do you mean? It is. That’s…Tamiel said it was.” Izzy’s brow furrows. “Do you need us to come get you?”

  My focus drifts to her round belly before I shake my head. “No. I…I can’t put you at risk.”

  “Out with it, then,” she says. “You call up here looking like you’ve seen a ghost, I expect you to explain what’s got your knickers in a damned knot.”

  “It’s Lancelot. The knight. He’s not Arthur. He’s the man I betrayed my husband with and the reason Arthur had to execute me.” It all comes out in a rush, and when I finish, they’re both staring at me.

  “I…” Izzy starts, but she is clearly at a loss for words.

  “Lancelot? Why would the angels put you two together? Your love brought down Camelot. You committed adultery, are one of the most famous stories of betrayal in the history of Britain.”

  “Yes, thank you, Helena. I understand.” I don’t need a reminder.

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know why this is happening. He’s the one who’ll help us? Is Gabriel sure?”

  “It seems that way. But I was so weak around Lancelot. He owned me. The man made me feel…everything all at once. I could’ve handled Arthur. We didn’t have passion or real romantic love. We were friends more than anything.” I twist my hair around my finger compulsively. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand seeing Lancelot every day. Not after what he did. I’ll go mad.”

  “What did he do?” Izzy asks, eyes bright with curiosity.

  Helena elbows her in the arm and shoots her a withering glare. “Leave off her.”

  “What? She never told us this bit. All we know is how she died and that most of the stories are true.”

  “Haven’t you had some kind of vision to help gain insight into this?” Helena asks.

  I shake my head. “Nothing. I haven’t seen since the moonstone went missing.”

  Izzy’s expression changes from curious to alarmed. “Not even with the leaves?”

  I shrug. “I haven’t tried tea leaves yet.”

  “Wait, you must’ve. You told me you had a vision about my pregnancy.” Helena points to her still flat belly. “That was just today.”

  “I had that vision before we lost you and got you back. Before Tamiel brought Lancelot back from purgatory.”

  “So, our powers really are gone?” Izzy’s voice wobbles a bit on the last.

  “It seems that way. I’ve only got the angelic grace Michael gave me. I can’t do any of my witch magic anymore,” Helena admits.

  We sit in silence together and I miss them. I want to be with them, not trapped here with Lancelot. It’s in that moment, as I stare at their forlorn expressions, I understand I’ll have to get over my problems with my situation. “I’ll be fine. I’m a grown woman. Lancelot is the key to getting our magic back and I’m not going to let my issues with him stand in our way.”

  “There she is,” Helena says. “That’s the fiery witch we’ve been missing. I thought you’d lost your spark.”

  I shrug, not wanting to tell them how hard it’s been watching them both find their soul mates and fall in love, knowing that wasn’t going to happen for me. The man I loved betrayed me before I could utter the words. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I take a long breath. “Right, then. I’m off to save the world.”

  “Call if you need anything,” Izzy says.

  I nod and am about to hang up when I realize I’m here with absolutely no supplies. “Actually, can you lot send me some clothes? I can’t conjure anything.”

  They both smile and make promises to overnight me a suitcase packed with supplies. I don’t think I’d be able to do this without them. They might not be my sisters by blood, but they are my family.

  I have to do this, take on this task with Lancelot. If I don’t, my sisters and everything I hold dear will die.

  Chapter Three

  Gwen

  I sulk in my room for a good two hours. I can’t bring myself to face him, not because I hate him, but because I’m afraid my body will betray me. He’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. The man I fantasize about while I use my vibrator to bring myself off. Oh, if he ever knew that, he’d never let me hear the end of it. I wonder idly if Helena will rifle through my drawers enough to find my box of toys. Maybe she’ll do me a favor and send it—after she gives me shit for what she finds in there. I may be chaste, but I take care of my own needs.

  Lancelot is sitting on the sofa reading a book when I finally emerge. His broad shoulders fill out the cotton t-shirt he’s wearing well enough to make my mouth water. Damn, but the man could be a romance cover model.

  “Back for another fight, my lady?” he asks, cocking one eyebrow.

  “No. Back to see that you don’t hurt yourself with your idiocy. You’ve always been too heroic and reckless. But this time your life is connected to mine. I won’t have you accidentally cocking this whole thing up by electrocuting yourself or burning the flat to the ground.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what electrocuting means, but I can assure you, I’m not likely to set fire to the place.”

  My stomach growls as hunger pangs remind me I’ve not eaten all day. I was supposed to be celebrating Izzy’s wedding, instead, here I am, babysitting. Gaze averted from Lancelot, I stride toward the kitchen, hoping for some sort of food. Canned soup, take away containers, pizza boxes, that’s all I find. “This is how you’ve been keeping yourself fed? Take away and sodium soup?”

  “I’ve done my best.”

  “Tamiel should’ve been taking better care of you.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “Worried about me, are you?”

  I don’t want him to know that’s exactly how I feel. Regardless of my hatred for the man, I’m tied to him with or without Gabriel’s enchantment. That would give him power, and a man like Lancelot, chivalrous as he is, would revel in the knowledge that I depend on him. “Like I said. I’m responsible for you. It won’t do me any good for you to clog your arteries and die of a heart attack.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.”

  My arm burns where his scratches are mirrored on my skin. “Are you? Show me your demon scar.”

  His eyes narrow. “Why?”

  “It’s poison. I need to make certain you’re still healing. Izzy’s
gift can only do so much.” But if my visions are gone, surely Izzy’s gift is as well. So how is it Lancelot has healed at all? The poison from a demon is deadly to almost every species on Earth.

  “I’m fine. I can walk, talk, feed myself. Much better than I was a few weeks ago when you sent me away. You truly thought I meant you harm?”

  Guilt hits me straight in the gut, but that’s quickly replaced by frustration. “You appeared after hundreds of years. After Tristan and Paris came back to kill Izzy and Helena, what else was I supposed to think?”

  “I spent all that time trapped in between realms. Alive. There’s not supposed to be a living soul in purgatory.”

  Shaking my head, I brush past him, not wanting our bodies to touch. If he touches me, I’ll feel the remnants of our past. I’ll want him again. “Don’t try to play the pity card. You’re here, in one piece.”

  Fingers on the doorknob, I glance over my shoulder. He’s standing with one hand braced on the back of the couch. Sweat beads across his brow and his face has gone pale. For all the bravado, he’s not well. “Where do you think you are going?”

  “To find us some food that doesn’t come from a can.”

  Straightening his shoulders, he clenches his jaw and nods before pushing off the couch and coming toward me. “I’ll accompany you.”

  “No. You can barely walk without pain. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

  I leave before he can protest, wishing with everything in me I had my magic. I’d conjure us food and comforting things as he recovers, but most of all, I’d be able to heal him quicker and get this over with so the both of us could move on.

  The doors to the lift open with a ding and I step forward, ready to leave and get my errands done. A shout of alarm rings out behind me and Lancelot’s strong arms encircle my waist, tugging me back before I can get fully inside. With me in his grasp, he cradles me in his arms and holds me tight. The clean scent of him, the feel of his wide chest and broad shoulders combined with the domineering energy he exudes makes me catch my breath.

  “I said I’d be fine. Put me down.”

  He shakes his head, voice tight from the energy it’s taking to hold me. “I’m sorry, my lady, that I cannot do. There is no way I’ll allow you inside that strange box. You might become trapped.” The worry in his eyes makes my heart squeeze at the memory of the man he used to be. “Where you go, I go.”

  I fight a sigh and shut my mouth, not wanting him to see he’s gotten to me. “Have you even set foot outside the flat?”

  “No. I’ve only just recovered enough to be steady for more than a few minutes at a time.”

  I know it kills him to be so weakened. This big, strong man who would fight to the death anyone who threatened his sovereign, anyone who threatened me. “Things are quite a bit…changed since you were here.”

  “I gathered that.”

  The elevator doors close and I wriggle in his arms. “That’s called a lift. It won’t hurt us. Now put me down. I don’t want to have to take the stairs.”

  After a long pause, he finally gives me what I asked for and sets me on my feet. God, he’s still so beautiful. My chest feels like someone reached in and is squeezing my heart. Like he reached in.

  Pressing the button to call the lift again, I let my eyes wander over his form. He’s not dressed like the knight I knew, but he has an air of other about him. His fitted jeans look like they were made for him, hanging low on his narrow hips, well worn in all the right places, and the pale blue Henley accents his wide shoulders and firmly muscled chest. My nipples betray my attraction as I let the memory of the feel of his arms around me take control for just a moment.

  A weak moment.

  The elevator arrives and the doors slide open. I step inside and turn toward him. The man stares with a dubious expression furrowing his brow. “Come on, then,” I say. “Don’t you trust me?”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and a dark look crosses his face. “No. I have no reason to trust you, Guinevere.”

  Ouch. “What are you—” The doors start to close and I scramble for the button to hold them open, but then think better of it. If he’s scared of a silly little lift, he can find the stairs. I’ll wait in the lobby. Or maybe I’ll just go ahead and get our shopping done. He doesn’t have to accompany me. I’m not in danger. To the rest of the world, I’m a normal human woman. No one is after me. I’m not cursed to die, no evil coven leader is out to get me or my sisters. I’m…free.

  But I miss it. My magic. I don’t even have my gift of foresight any longer. I’ve had that from birth in all my lifetimes. I’d thought nothing could steal the angel Sariel’s gift from me, but I haven’t had a vision in over a month. Not since Helena was returned to us…not since Tamiel brought Lancelot back with him from purgatory.

  I step free of the lift and glance around the empty apartment building lobby. The stairwell door is close, but if I run for it, I can leave Lancelot behind. Do I want to? Part of me calls out for his touch—the weak part—and the other part wants to leave him. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and I catch his scent which still lingers on my clothes. Memories long buried rush to the surface. His lips hot on mine, soft moans and harsh breaths, our secret trysts under the hawthorn tree. Arthur confronting us, betrayed and heartbroken.

  “My lady.” Lancelot’s voice breaks through my reverie and brings me back to the present and I’m thankful. I don’t want to relive Lancelot’s betrayal or my subsequent punishment.

  “Sir Knight.” A flicker of need lights in his eyes at my teasing tone, and I can’t help but let a slight grin turn up my lips. “You’re going to have to get used to things being different. I’m not yours. In fact, the only feelings I have toward you are misplaced attraction and hatred. But I have to keep you alive so you can serve your purpose.” I turn on my heel and head for the exit, but his large palm encircles my elbow, tugging me back to him.

  “What have I done to earn your hatred?” His eyes blaze with fury. “I did nothing.”

  “You ruined me.”

  His face pales and he steps back. “Is that truly what you think?”

  Traitorous tears burn in my eyes. “I’ve never told you a lie, Lancelot. I’m not going to start now.”

  “It would appear your memory of the truth is warped.”

  There’s something in his expression that sends a wave of pain through me. And I wonder if this isn’t a test set forth by God Himself to see if I deserve this chance at a full life.

  I clench my jaw hard enough to cause a dull ache in my temples. Fighting with him isn’t going to get us anywhere. “You know, you might be right. I’ve died enough times that it’s possible my past blends together. Perhaps we should put it behind us. It seems we remember things differently and there’s no way to change it. I think, if we’re going to get you through your trials so I can get my magic back, we should make a rule here and now.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “Which is?”

  “As far as we are concerned…the past doesn’t exist. You and I were never more than a queen and her knight. There is nothing between us.”

  I watch his throat move as he swallows back his initial reaction. “As you wish, my queen.”

  Hurt stabs my chest to see him so defeated, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have time to fix the shattered parts of what was once us. We were a hurricane of lust and need, selfish desire, and the beginnings of what I’d thought might have been love. All we left in our wake was destruction and, in the end, death.

  “Teach me about your world so I can survive it without you.” His voice is filled with pain, but he’s right. He has to learn to survive without me because he’ll never have me again.

  I’ve at least had the benefit of living my life over and over, growing with the world even if I’ve had to be reborn more times than I can count. “Stay close. The last thing we need is for you to get lost.”

  He nods and takes my hand. Everything in me lights up with too many feelings to n
ame. Before I can stop myself, I jerk my palm away. He doesn’t say anything, just walks silently beside me. But as we step out of the apartment building and onto the bustling sidewalk, I can’t help but smile at the wonder in his eyes as he takes in the busy road, the people, the buildings.

  Until he continues straight into the street and in the path of a bright red, double-decker bus filled with tourists.

  Chapter Four

  Lancelot

  “Stop!” Guinevere screams, her small hand grabbing tight to the collar of my shirt. She pulls hard and I step backward, narrowly avoiding the tall, red contraption hurtling toward me.

  “What in the bloody hell is that?”

  “It’s a bus. An automobile. And a weapon of your destruction.”

  Glancing at the busy street, I take in all the automobiles of various colors and sizes. For the first time since Tamiel brought me here, I wonder if he’d done me a disservice in not letting me out of the flat. “Why are they all different?”

  She pauses and frowns. “I don’t know, really. It’s sort of like clothes. We wear different things to show our personalities.”

  I can’t stop my gaze from roaming her body. She’s clad in a flowing white shirt with flowers embroidered across the neckline and sleeves. She looks like a Fae princess with her long hair cascading down her back and those bright eyes shining in the light of day. My mouth runs dry at the flush on her cheeks and when she bites her lower lip before glancing away, I have to resist the urge to take her in my arms and relive our first kiss from hundreds of years ago.

  “If you’re coming with me, stay with me. I can’t risk something happening to you.” Her tone is clipped and high with fear. She really does care about me, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. But do I want her to feel that way? As much as she says she hates me, I despise her for not choosing me over Arthur. She broke my heart and I ended up a prisoner.

  “Why? Because I’m your charge?”