Primal Pleasure: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3 (12 page)

“Cian?”

Eyes glazed over, he leaned into her.

“What did you do to him?”

Cian staggered, knocking them both into the wall. Looping her arms around his waist, she struggled in vain to keep him on his feet, ending up half underneath him when his knees buckled and they hit the floor.

Mr. Crossbow notched another arrow, this one aimed at the back of Cian’s skull. “Are you going to cooperate now?”

Chapter Seven

She was gone.

It was the first thought to register as Cian slowly awakened. That, and what the fuck had they hit him with?

Every inch of his skull throbbed like he’d been struck with a blacksmith’s sledgehammer. He cracked open an eye, and even the sliver of light that penetrated made him curse. After a few seconds of wondering if he’d empty his stomach all over himself—since he wasn’t even sure he could roll to his side—he tried again.

The pain wasn’t so bad this time, only seven out of ten instead of eleven. He blinked a few times, bringing the plain white ceiling and overhead lights into focus. Where was he?

Taking stock of any other injuries besides his head, he realized the floor beneath him was hard and cold, but his head was propped up on something much softer, warmer.

Bracing against another wave of nausea, he turned his head. Even before he saw her, he recognized Emma’s jacket. Her eyes were closed, her head tipped to the side, her lips parted by shallow breaths. The steady rise and fall of her chest helped quiet the cat.

They hadn’t hurt her, not enough to stop her from resting his head in her lap anyway.

Yet another contradiction. She’d been so angry with him at her friend’s home, her eyes turning purple like she was contemplating hitting him with one of her fireballs, and here she was next to him.

The female made his head hurt, and that was without whatever toxin they’d used to subdue him. Most immortals metabolized poison too quickly to be more than temporarily weakened by them.

Still feeling the effects, he stayed where he was and looked around the room. The slate gray walls and two metal chairs offered no indication of where they were.

Maybe he should have let Briana come along. There’s no way she would have let him waltz right after Emma without some kind of plan—one that didn’t involve landing smack in the middle of the sorceress’s mess. Did she make it her life’s mission to infuriate other immortals or did it just come naturally?

Emma sighed in her sleep, her brows drawing together.

“Hey.”

She jolted awake, her palm coming up as if to fire off another burst of magic. He caught her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “Easy.”

“You’re okay.”

If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was worried about him. “Cats have nine lives, remember.”

“They wouldn’t tell me what was in the arrow.” Her expression turned critical. “How’s your leg?”

Before he realized her intentions, she gently probed his thigh.

His breath hissed out at the wave of pleasure that raced across his skin.

She pulled her hand back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. For a moment I forgot how much my head hurt.”

“Is it bad?”

He smiled, uncomfortable with the guilt he swore he heard in her voice. “About a hundred times worse than the concussion you gave me.”

“I’d apologize for that, but you did have it coming.”

“I had it coming?”

“Forget it,” she snapped in that female tone that clearly said she wasn’t about to forget anything.

“Oh, no.” He sat up, regretting the fast movement the moment his stomach plummeted halfway to his knees. He couldn’t have held back his groan if he tried, sucking in a breath so he didn’t embarrass himself any further. It was bad enough he hadn’t been able to prevent their current predicament without adding insult to injury.

“Touch my leg.”

“What?”

“Please.” He didn’t wait, but set her hand on his thigh, hoping the world would stop spinning so fast.

“Better?” she asked a moment later.

It would be if he could find a way to get her hand a few inches higher. That would make it all better. He wisely kept that to himself though. Her soft gray eyes seemed to spark with purple, and if he made her angry, the last place he wanted her hand was anywhere below his waist.

Not that he had to worry about that for long when she tugged her hand free and swept her thumb across his bottom lip.

“Your lip was cut when they dumped you on the floor.”

“Feels fine now.” Very, very fine.

“Good.” The way she was staring at his mouth was going to land both of them in more trouble sooner or later. And damn, he hoped it was sooner.

He dropped his head and his cheek grazed hers. Almost there.

The sound of a lock disengaging echoed in the room, and the door swung open.

They both turned to look at the man—a wolf gargoyle if Cian’s senses weren’t off from the poison—who ducked beneath the frame to get inside and closed the door behind him.

Someone on the other side engaged the lock.

“Emma? Are you okay? I just heard you were here.”

Cian was on his feet before the other gargoyle took a single step in her direction.

“He’s a friend.” Emma winced and tried to stand, and Cian turned to help her.

“If he hurt you,” the wolf began, glaring at Cian.

“I’m fine, Dillon. Unless you count my legs falling asleep under him.”

Ignoring the newcomer, Cian kept her close. “You could have left me wherever they dropped me.”

“And have to listen to you complain about another head trauma?”

Head trauma? Ah, the concussion.

She shrugged. “The floor was cold.” She didn’t give him a chance to challenge her motivations further before focusing on her friend. “Tell me you can get your brother to let us out of here.”

Cian frowned. “Brother?”

“Dillon’s brother owns the casino we’re in, the Wolf’s Den.”

“Did he catch you counting cards?”

She scoffed. “Counting cards is not illegal. It’s just…frowned upon.”

Dillion snorted at that, then shook his head. “Sorry, Emma. He’s sort of barred me from the penthouse.”

She crossed her arms. “What did you do this time?”

Cian shot a glance first at Emma, then Dillion. “Does she normally sound that scary?”

“Tell me,” she pressed, ignoring Cian.

“It had nothing to do with slipping a human any ambrosia if that’s what you’re thinking.” His shoulders slumped. “It’s my mother.”

Mother, sister, ex-girlfriend and some crazy blackjack dealer he’d seduced a week ago, Cian decided after listening to the guy pour his heart out to Emma for at least fifteen minutes.

He stopped trying to keep track after the last time Emma’s fierce glance promised bodily harm if he tried to interrupt one more time. Apparently Dillon’s problems with females—numerous problems—were more important than the fact that they were still locked up.

And not only was Emma showing little interest in using her magic to get them out of there, but he was as protective of her as ever. Dillon could cry all he wanted, but if he tried to catch another glimpse of Emma’s cleavage, Cian was putting his fist in the wolf’s face.

He didn’t realize his claws had burst through his skin until Emma scowled at him, in particular at the grating sound they made against the chair he sat on.

Shooting Cian a curious look, Dillon nodded toward the door. “I should go. I’ll try to talk to my brother again, but the reward for delivering you to Gareth is enough to tempt even the most loyal, Emma.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He knocked on the door and just before it opened, Cian gave thought to making a move.

“We’d make it down the hall. Maybe,” Emma said, reading his mind in that eerie way of hers. “But we’d never make it past the Korrigans blocking access to the main casino floor.”

“Maybe you’re content to sit and wait for your sorcerer friend to arrive, but I’m not.” The four walls were starting to feel too close, crowding him. He knew it was in his mind, but after being trapped for a century, he didn’t want to spend a minute here longer than he had to.

“What should I do? Pretend to be sick and you’ll hide behind the door and jump out when someone comes to check on me?”

He perked up. “You don’t think they’d be expecting that?”

She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t caught up on much television yet, have you?”

“I fail to see what one has to do with the other. Fine, you want to stay, then undo your spell and I’ll leave you to your fate, sorceress.”

“It would be that easy for you, wouldn’t it?”

Right now the only easy thing to do would be haul her close and kiss her until neither of them could see straight. The thought of leaving her here, leaving her anywhere, made the cat snarl at the back of his mind. He was counting on the spell being reversed to fix that.

She sighed. “It’s more complicated than it seems.”

“Uncomplicate it,” he gritted out.

“I can’t… Wait.” She held up a hand when he started to tell her he was done waiting. “How good are your tracking skills? And don’t give me that arrogant look as though I should just assume you’re a skilled hunter.”

“So I should just tell you that I’m a skilled hunter?”

“But not the best. Only the best can track through Avalon’s barren region.”

He snorted. “It’s not being able to track someone through that region that makes someone the best. It’s catching them.”

“And I suppose you’ve accomplished such a feat,” she mocked.

“Was there ever any doubt?”

At his admission, Emma’s gaze turned calculating, and he instinctively knew she’d set him up. He just didn’t know what for.

“You want to be free of me? Then you’ll help me track my sister before she’s taken to Gareth.”

He burst out laughing, then stopped when Emma didn’t join him.

“You’re serious?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, the determined look on her face saying it all. “I’d sooner pledge my soul to Morgana.”

“Not even she can undo another sorceress’s spell.”

Red slashed across his vision. “I wasn’t wrong about you at all, was I? You truly are a manipulative bitch who doesn’t care who she hurts.”

She flinched, but didn’t back down. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He stalked away from her, whirling back around a moment later. “Do you enjoy playing with peoples’ lives?”

“No more than you enjoyed playing with mine when you refused to release me.”

He glared at her, saying nothing.

“Not so high and mighty now, are we?”

The door across the room opened, and Dillon popped his head inside. “My brother wants to talk to you.”

Cian lowered his voice. “Stay close to me.” He didn’t like being backed into a corner—and Emma had him good and trapped—but leaving without her wasn’t an option.

If it took playing along until a way out of their current situation presented itself, he’d bide his time. Later he could be annoyed with himself for not anticipating such a move on Emma’s part. Right now he needed to stay focused so he could take advantage of any opportunity that presented itself—and Dillon was staring at Emma’s chest again.

The wolf glanced at him, then quickly looked anywhere in the room but at Emma.

“Why is the sorcerer after you to begin with?” Cian asked as they stepped into the hall. Immediately they were flanked by two men in camouflage gear, with two more taking up the rear. “Did you turn him to stone too? Maybe make him fall in love with a troll?”

Emma ignored him. Thankfully Dillon didn’t. “She’s been promised to Gareth.”

Cian stopped, snarling when one of their armed escorts shoved him to get him walking again. “What do you mean
promised
?” Because it damn well couldn’t mean what he thought it did. His animal half considered Emma his and spell or not the man wasn’t much further behind.

“You been living in a cave, dude?”

“Something like that.” He shot Emma a dark look, but she was too busy staring at the floor.

“They did do something to you, didn’t they?” It was the only thing that explained why she hadn’t used her magic against the men surrounding them. It made sense that a group as organized as their escorts appeared to be would have measures in place to contain powerful magic.

It couldn’t be a handcuff or chain. Something more discreet maybe. Although she hadn’t complained back in the room. And why was that? She’d made numerous references to the chain nulling her magic weeks ago.

When the doors at the end of the hall parted and they were ushered inside a room only a little larger than a closet, a wave of uncertainty rolled through him. Only when the doors closed, sealing them inside, did he back up, snarling.

He knew there was a name for the box they rode in, had seen them on television. Being familiar with what it was didn’t stop the cat from rising to the surface.

“He’s fine.”

Hardly, which was why it took him a moment to notice the arrow pointed at his stomach.

Emma stepped between the two closest guards and faced Cian. The box jolted and he growled, searching the ceiling for its weakest point.

“Look at me.” She caught his face between her palms, forcing him to meet her gaze. “We’re safe.”

He watched the words form on her lips. They just didn’t make any sense when his heart felt like it was going to pound straight through his chest.

And then all he knew was sweet softness. Achingly sweet as Emma slanted her mouth across his. Everything but his mate faded into the background, the icy panic freezing his blood replaced by a rush of heat.

Her body pressed up against him, fitting snug, chest to thighs. So snug there was no way she would have missed how hard he was. Her fingers speared the ends of his hair and he groaned into her mouth.

Moments ago he’d been afraid she was going to get hurt if he didn’t keep a grip on his panic. Now he feared she would pull away before he got enough of her. He just didn’t know when that would be.

Emma wasn’t sure if she’d pushed him against the wall to get him farther away from the arrow or so she could lean into him completely.

The longer she stood there, losing her mind to a kiss that started out as a means of distracting him, the more she suspected it was the latter. She would have given anything for another minute of feeling his lips slide across hers, drugging her in slow, possessive degrees.