Primal Pleasure: Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 3 (13 page)

She vaguely registered the chime of a bell as the elevator doors opened, and she tried to ease back. He curved his palm around her nape, keeping her right where she was. Objecting would mean pulling away and pretending she wanted to stop, and they’d barely gotten started.

Though one more hot stroke of his tongue and she might be done. Right there. In front of the men who’d gone speechless around them, she could collapse in a quivering pile of sheer want.

“Em,” he whispered against her lips, and the equilibrium keeping her on her feet was shot all to hell.

“Really, Emma? A cat?” Dillon scoffed in disgust, then spun around, smashing his fist into the closest guard’s face.

Cian jerked her to the side, knocking one guard off-balance while he nailed the one directly behind her in the jaw.

Something hit the floor. The crossbow. With little room to maneuver, the last guard still standing could only try pushing her out of the way to reach Cian. Light flared between them and he howled, cupping his crotch.

“Go,” Dillon yelled, gripping the guard’s head and yanking it down to meet his knee. He shoved Emma out of the elevator, then delivered a solid kick to the third guy’s stomach and hit the panel.

Catching Cian’s hand, she pulled him into the hall as the doors scrolled closed, leaving them in the penthouse’s marble foyer. Off to the immediate right was a lounge area and beyond that an elaborate dining room. Everything was painted in caramel and deep chocolate browns, the furniture leather and solid looking.

She’d bet Dillon’s brother was a bachelor.

“We need to find the stairs.” They would have to be close to the elevator, wouldn’t they?

Cian left her side, venturing deeper into the penthouse.

“Hey,” she hissed.

A door on the right swung open and she instantly recognized Mr. Crossbow. Cian, having the element of surprise, caught the guy around the neck and tossed him—head first—into the door. Bones crunched on impact.

She didn’t get the chance to see if the guy was still conscious. Cian slammed the door shut, then grabbed her hand, keeping her close as he led her down a hall on the left.

“Looking for a closet to hide in?” she quipped.

“Well, I was thinking about finding a bed to crawl under, but I like your idea better.” He stopped. “Do you hear that?”

A thump echoed from farther down the hall. Cian headed in the same direction.

“You won’t be able to track my sister if we get caught.” Judging by the murderous look he shot her, he didn’t appreciate the reminder.

Guilt swirled in her stomach like curdled milk. As frustrating as he was, she hated having to force him to help her. She’d almost told him the truth downstairs, but if he knew her sister was the one who’d cursed him, he might decide to let Gareth have them, at least until he saw reason. By then both her and Elena’s fates could be sealed.

Right now the gargoyle was her best shot at getting to Elena, and whether he liked it or not he needed her too. Another thump, followed by a grunt.

The room opened up ahead of them and a cage, like something from an ultimate fighting match, dominated the center of the room. Two men—one with the same red dragon tattoo as Cian’s on his back—were locked together, angling for a hold that would take the other to the floor.

Cian released her hand and strolled into the room like he owned the place.

A century in stone really had caused some brain damage.

The guy with the tattoo noticed them first. He frowned, and the slip in concentration cost him. He went down hard, his opponent wrapping his legs around him like a human pretzel.

Cian stopped and tucked his hands in his pockets. Giving up on trying to blend into the background, Emma joined him in time to see the pinned guy get his arm free and do some kind of move she had to tip her head to follow.

His opponent tapped his shoulder and the pair parted.

Hopping out of the ring, his mouth split into a wide grin. “Cian.” He slapped him on the back in greeting. “I didn’t know you’d been freed. Man, it is great to see you.”

Maybe things were finally looking up. If this guy knew Cian, maybe he stood a chance of talking Dillon’s brother into releasing them.

The guy fixed his gaze on Emma and his grin widened. “Tell me you’re not with the cat and I’ll lay my heart out right this second.”

She didn’t get the chance to respond before Cian stepped close, the low growl of warning unmistakable.

He laughed. “So it’s like that, is it? Easy, friend, I have no interest in tempting your female.” He winked at Emma before motioning them to the bar tucked near the window offering a panoramic view of the Strip. “Tell me you caught up with the sorceress bitch that left you in stone.”

She felt Cian’s glance at her, and her cheeks heated.

“Never mind.” He handed her and Cian a shot glass. “So what are you doing in Vegas?” He paused, glass halfway to his lips. “No one told me you were on your way up actually.” He glanced back the way she and Cian had come. “Vincent?”

Emma winced. “If he’s about six-foot, blond and wicked with a crossbow, he’s catching a catnap in the bathroom.”

“Why…” He turned the full impact of those wolf eyes on her as though sizing her up for the first time. “Your name isn’t Emma, is it?”

She nodded. “And you’re Dillon’s brother, Mac.”

“Shit. And you’re the gargoyle who was brought in with her?” He directed the last part to Cian. “What, tangling with a sorceress wasn’t enough for you, you had to go and provoke a sorcerer by taking his intended as a mate?” He rubbed a hand down his face. “How did you two wind up here alone anyway?”

“We were looking for a closet actually.”

Cian snorted and Mac gave her a strange look. “Forget I asked. You can’t stay here though.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and they turned as another joined them. “You threaten to feed some of your people to Morgana’s trolls again? They’re all running around…”

The newcomer stopped when he spotted them.

Mac grinned. “Yeah, Lucan. It’s him.”

Tall, blond and with eyes so dark they were almost entirely black, he greeted Cian with the same enthusiasm as Mac had.

Emma cocked her head. “Lucan? As in the wraith who marked Kennedy?”

Like the gargoyle clans, the former Knights of the Round Table had also been punished by Rhiannon. Even those most loyal to Arthur hadn’t escaped the goddess’s wrath. She’d permanently bound them to her, hiring them out to the highest bidder for engagements that usually involved assassinating other immortals.

Kennedy had mentioned that ignoring or prolonging the completion of a job literally drove a wraith insane. It was only a matter of time before the unspeakable pain they suffered for defying the goddess turned into a vicious bloodlust that eventually overtook them, consuming them until they completed their assignment.

As if that wasn’t enough, they were forced to drink blood to survive, and the venom in their phantom claws made even the most fearless immortal nervous to be in the same room with them.

Cian arched a brow. “I left you alone with Sorcha and Kennedy for an hour.”

She shrugged. “Girls talk. She doesn’t hold it against you, you know.” She doubted passing that along would ease the guilt she’d momentarily glimpsed in the former knight’s eyes.

“Tristan still does.”

“Give him some time.” Cian turned back to Mac. “What did you mean about not staying here?”

Mac shot him an apologetic look and motioned for them to follow. “I mean some of Gareth’s pals are on their way to get her. My team was just the middleman.”

“They might have my sister, Elena, with them.”

Mac shook his head. “I don’t think so. My contact mentioned that his group was splitting up and only he and two others were coming for you.”

Cian frowned, looking at Emma. “Why would this sorcerer only send three men to collect you?”

“He’s arrogant?” she offered, though that wasn’t the whole truth.

Mac ran his fingers along the top edge of a painting. “Admitting I released you won’t be good for business.” He shoved the key into the wall and another set of doors scrolled open to reveal another elevator. “You get them out of here and I’ll deal with Gareth’s people.”

Lucan nodded, slipping into the elevator ahead of them.

“Watch your back, Cian. Gareth doesn’t play nice, and he won’t stop coming until he gets what he’s after.”

The doors closed and Cian went perfectly still. Jaw tight and gaze fixed straight ahead, he sought out Emma’s hand, linking their fingers. If Lucan noticed the elevator bothered Cian, he never let on.

When the doors finally opened, they were in an underground parking garage.

“You can take my car.” Lucan dug the keys out of his pocket, and she grabbed them a second before Cian.

Snippets of Lucan’s life flashed across her mind in hyper speed. In a few heartbeats she understood why Arthur had made him one of his knights. Even hired out as a mercenary, she knew with a touch of his keys that he still believed in honor, loyalty and Camelot.

Cian stopped, watching her expectantly, his eyes locked on the keys.

As if. “Maybe if people hadn’t been still using horses for personal transportation a hundred years ago I’d consider letting you drive.”

Cian scowled at her when she unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel. She lowered the window as he dropped into the passenger seat.

Lucan leaned down. “Tell Tristan to call on me if he needs anything.”

“I will.”

“And everyone else is alright? Cale? Briana?” The slight emphasis he put on Briana made Emma sit up a little straighter.

“Everyone is well,” Cian answered, still staring at the keys she’d shoved in the ignition.

When the wraith felt her studying him curiously, he ducked his head. Cian either didn’t notice or wasn’t surprised by Lucan asking about Briana. It didn’t take an oracle to see Lucan had been hoping for something a little more.

“Her computer password is Lucan, you know,” she offered. At least her laptop password had been, before she’d changed it to Pendragons when she’d given it to Cian.

Cian frowned. “How would you know that?”

She shrugged and started the car. “Buckle up.”

Lucan gave her a small nod, his expression guarded as he stepped back. Putting the car in reverse, she slid Cian a sidelong glance, anticipating the same tension he’d exhibited in the elevator.

“If you go cat on me, you’re sitting in the back.”

“Tristan let me drive his car a few times. I enjoyed it immensely.”

A few times? And he’d been ready to snatch the keys right out of Lucan’s hand?

Luckily, she’d been faster. With Cian driving she might not have made it out alive.

Chapter Eight

He wasn’t going to make it out of the car alive.

Cian gripped the door handle as she took another corner like a maniac, prepared to dive out of the car if it came to that. He was fairly certain he’d rather take his chances with oncoming traffic.

“Could you perhaps—”

She passed another vehicle at speeds the human race should not be traveling.

“—slow down?” he finished.

Tristan had driven him around the city with the top down on his BMW, and he’d reveled in reaching speeds faster than his animal half could run. Right now though, he was praying for it all to stop.

Instead of slowing down, the car picked up speed.

He slammed his eyes shut, only to crack one open at the last second. The car opposite them seemed oblivious to Emma bearing down on it, and made a left-hand turn.

Cian’s breath hissed out as she swerved to clear it. Did she not know how to use the brake?

“Sure, I do,” she said, and he realized he’d spoken aloud. “We’re just on a really tight schedule.”

“Tell me again why we didn’t just cross into Avalon at Mac’s?”

Conversation was good. By talking he could pretend they weren’t one more corner from colliding head on with another car. Immortals could survive almost anything, but beheading wasn’t one of them, and he’d be damned if tucking themselves into a metal box on wheels and traveling at speeds as fast as the gods wasn’t tempting fate.

“We need supplies first.” She weaved around two more cars, coming so close to the second one he was sure he heard the scrape of paint.

“I’m not scaring you, am I?” She glanced at him.

He pointed at the road. “Look that way.”

The crazy female grinned at him. “So I bet this would really freak you out.” She let go of the steering wheel.

If he could have bent over and kissed his ass goodbye, he would have.

“Relax, you can look now. See?”

“Two hands,” he growled, looking through the fingers on one hand. “Put them both on the wheel.”

“If you say so.”

He really didn’t like the way she said that.

Without warning, she wrenched the steering wheel in her hand, sending the car into a spin across oncoming traffic and down a narrow lane. After taking one more corner—during which he’d vow the car drove on only two wheels—she slammed on the brake.

It took him a full minute to pry his claws from the seat.

She turned to stare out the back window. He followed her gaze, certain a dragon must have been after them.

“That red SUV has been following us almost since we left the Wolf’s Den. I wanted to ditch it just to be on the safe side.”

“Oh good. So there’s a reason you nearly killed us.”

“Hey, I’ve taken defensive driving courses.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t need whatever that is if you didn’t have people after you all the time.”

“Contrary to popular belief—”
his
popular belief according to the look she gave him, “—that’s not the norm for me.”

“You’ve had people after you as long as I’ve known you.”

She reversed onto the street, heading in the opposite direction of the red VUS or USV or whatever she’d called it. “You don’t count. Neither does Gareth.”

Just the mention of the sorcerer looking for his mate enraged the cat.

“Do you love him?” He didn’t know why he asked or why it even mattered when his feelings for Emma weren’t real. Probably had something to do with the paralyzing fear that had been coursing through him since she’d gotten behind the wheel.