TheKingsLady (3 page)

Gwen, who sat in silence watching the exchange, piped in, “This
witch
happens to have a name you know.
If
any of you bothered to ask, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Arthur turned his attention back to the redhead sitting cross-legged on the floor, her arms folded defensively across her full breasts, pushing them up to swell temptingly over her low scooped shirt. His mouth went dry at the erotic sight, and his body tightened, his blood heading south to the bulge growing hard beneath his zipper. Forcing his gaze up, he locked on eyes the color of an approaching squall at sea. Memories once again crashed through him, his gut flip-flopped with emotions best left buried. His chest tightened painfully against the rising surge of too much too soon.

Juliet’s voice yanked him back to the here and now with vicious force. “Her name is Gwen McAllister, guys. It’s not polite to go around calling her witch.” Juliet moved into the demolished room followed by Colin, who stood a good foot taller than her. Juliet placed a gentle arm on Arthur’s tense shoulder as she peered at Gwen on the floor. “Hi, Gwen, your aunt asked us to look after you. We aren’t here to harm you. We just want to keep you safe.”

Gwen gave an unladylike snort. “Yeah, well that didn’t work out too hot now, did it?” She got to her feet and arched a brow, her challenging gaze fully on Arthur.

And then realization hit home with a one-two punch to the gut. Gwen had no recollection of him at all, not even a glimmer. Worse, he didn’t know how he felt about that fact.

* * * *

Gwen didn’t know what tall-blond-and-sexy-as-hell’s damage could be, and frankly, she really didn’t care. But it obviously had a lot to do with her. Why? She had no clue and tried not to feel a small prickle of disappointment at the thought. The man was
gorgeous
. Mouthwatering, rip-the-clothes-off–him-do-him-now hunk-o-licious. Nevertheless, the odd looks he kept giving her—as if she should know him—were downright unnerving.

Still, she couldn’t help but admire his tall, lean body dressed in a dark-blue shirt, tucked into jeans showing a narrow waist and long legs. His hair streaked in shades of gold and light brown curled over his collar and swept back from a chiseled face, firm jaw and prominent cheekbones. Dark blond brows showcased warm dark-brown eyes. His black lashes were a perfect contrast to all the golden skin she could see at his throat and arms. And Goddess above, his mouth!

Full and so sensual she felt the uncontrollable urge to trace her finger over them. Truly, this male was made for sin. The man could be a model, in fact, all the men she met so far could be. The same could be said of the woman, too, making her feel downright dowdy. One with brown hair looked high society in a tailored pant suit of dove gray, while the other black haired woman stood about five-foot-three in a casual jeans and shirt.

Standing five foot six she knew she could stand to lose thirty pounds, having much more curves than was considered acceptable in this day and age. So she wasn’t a size zero, instead, the reality she would forever be a size twelve suited her just fine. That is until she looked at the two females in her destroyed room.

“It will be much safer for you with us, Miss Gwen. Get the things you need quickly, we don’t know how much time we have. Vance could return with his hired muscle at any time.” The hunky blond’s words pulled her thoughts back to her present predicament. The soft twang of a southern accent swept against her skin like satin.

Yep, the man was way too sexy for his own good and way out of her league. She needed to keep reminding herself that he was not interested in her. He was just being polite. His kind never looked twice at her, and that was all right with her.

Really.

“I was handling him quite well until you barged in. Had him right where I wanted him actually.” Gwen tried for bravado and instead got more of a raspy croak out of her sore throat.

Being nearly choked to death had a way of doing that to a girl.

The man they called Arthur barked out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, sure you did. You purposely backed yourself against that there wall and let him choke you.”

“Ha, ha, you’re a real riot. Let me make this clear to all of you. Until I know what happened to my aunt, I’m not going anywhere.”

Salt chose that moment to make his entrance, moving around the debris scattered throughout the room, and sat blinking at the newcomers before yowling in ear splitting decibels his outrage.

Ms. Society chuckled as she bent to pick up the irate feline. “I know and I agree it really was quite horrifying, but you and Gwen are among friends now, and we promise nothing will happen to either of you.”

A twinge of possessiveness tightened her chest. “You can understand my cat? Who
are
you people?”

Another large male chose that moment to make an appearance, his dark hair in a skull cut. Dark navy blue eyes took in the scene and arched an eyebrow at Arthur. “Problem?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Drake,” Arthur snapped.

Drake chuckled, giving his friend a pointed look. “Then I suggest you handle it and soon or else she may turn you into a newt, right, Merci?”

The black haired woman rolled her eyes heavenwards. “Oh please, that’s just too cliché. No one turns people into newts these days.”

Gwen’s irritation tipped over the precarious balance of calm she so far worked hard to maintain. Perhaps the near strangulation at the hands of—
what was his name? Oh yes
— Vance caused her sudden ire, or the shocking news about her aunt. Whatever the reasons, her vision hazed red as she saw her unwanted
saviors
filling the space within what used to be her safe haven.

“I want you all out of here,
now.
Or Hecate help me I won’t be held responsible for my next actions. And you there,” Gwen waved a hand toward the woman holding Salt . “Leave my cat alone.”

The woman’s eyes widened, but she quickly set the white fur ball on the floor and took a few steps back, watching her warily.

Well, well, good they should be cautious, even if she didn’t have any intention of doing anything to them. All she wanted was to be left alone to pick up the devastation left behind from Vance’s attack. And maybe curl into a ball on her bed and cry. She really didn’t want anyone around when she broke down.

Hey, Wen, rude much? They are here to protect us and what they say does make sense. I personally don’t want a repeat engagement with that Vance character. Besides, I like them, especially the one they called Juliet, the one who held me, there’s energy about her which I find extremely appealing.
Salt’s soothing tone had the opposite effect on her, filling her with a jealous rage.

Fine, why don’t you just go ahead a leave with her then?
She knew it was childish, even mean spirited of her. She just couldn’t seem to care at the moment. It all was too much. Adding the sudden attraction she felt toward the blond hunk in front of her didn’t help much either.

Wen, you aren’t acting like yourself right now so I’ll ignore what you just said.
Salt’s beautiful blue eyes narrowed on her for only a moment before he turned and started weaving around Juliet’s legs with a deep satisfying purr.

And just like that, her anger drained out of her, leaving behind the feeling of inevitability in its wake. “You really won’t just leave me in peace, will you?” she asked, her gaze lifted and caught in a pair of warm brown eyes.

Damn, they were so pretty. All brown with gold flecks catching the light. She could lose herself in those eyes.

“Not that I can’t sympathize with you, Miss Gwen, but that would not be the wisest thing to do.” Arthur gave her a small smile, only a slight lifting of those full lips of his.

Her breath caught at the beauty of that smile and knew if he were to give her a full-on grin, she would be lost. As it stood she firmly quelled the urge to find a way to make him smile for her again. The reaction he had on her irritated her like rubbing fur the wrong way.

“I was afraid you would say that,” Gwen huffed out, pulling a crystal out of the back pocket of her jeans and raised her hands, calling on her power. It jolted through her body like jumping beans a brief moment, seconds really before it settled into a growing surge of power infusing her hands with a bright golden light.

The small dark-haired woman shouted a warning a split second before her golden light blasted out of her hands, spreading out to surround all five of her would-be rescuers. She heard the angry yowl of Salt, but raised her shields so she wouldn’t be diverted from the spell she weaved.

A deep green light erupted from Merci’s hands, meeting the incoming spell with one of her own. She gasped at so much power and knew she was no match for the petite woman. She never had time to reinforce her shield against the onslaught of power as it hit her hard in the solar plexus, lifting her off the floor and back to crash into the wall with bruising force. As her body met plaster, cracking the dry wall, she felt the pain radiating from her spine and out to her limbs. She slid down the wall, too weak to do anything but lay in a pain-filled stupor on the floor as her world spun out of control around her. The sensation brought back memories of being on a tilt-a-whirl as a young child. She didn’t like it then, and she sure as hell didn’t like the horrid feeling now.

Now that was a smart move,
she thought as a wall of darkness rose over her. Then she remembered nothing.

Chapter Three

Bodies swayed to the driving beat piped in and pushed out with blaring intensity, aided by the speakers bolted to the walls. Blue and red lights flashed dimly through the thick haze of cigarette smoke. The stench of it coalesced with the odor of sweat and heavy perfumes in a clash of scents as disharmonious as the music.

Darius Roark leaned his elbows on the bar and basked in the press of humanity intent on living in the moment, without a thought of what repercussions inevitably dished out tomorrow. He almost envied them their recklessness. He scanned the room, his eyes lingering on the velveteen rope blocking the staircase, which lead to the VIP lounge. He could always rely on the nightclub aptly called
Fore Play
to soothe the tensions in his life.

The memories of ages long past which lingered, haunting him, waking or sleeping. Humans should never remember their past lives, but then he wasn’t human, not entirely.

He twisted around, reaching for his beer, and felt the press of a soft body at his back. The light caress of warm breath circled his ear and neck and a voice husky and low whispered to him. A sirens call his body responded to instinctively.

“Hey there, care for some company?”

He turned his bottle of beer in one hand and looked down at the small woman who plastered herself to his chest. Eyes the color of storm clouds gazed up at him with a sexual promise. Long dark hair cascaded over her slim shoulders and down her trim waist. His free hand caressed the curve of her hip through her tight skirt and couldn’t help but notice her full breasts pulling at the form-fitting silk shirt.

His cock stiffened against the zipper of his slacks. “It depends on what you have in mind,” he spoke close to her ear, her perfume—something dark and exotic—teased his senses.

He eyes closed as the images of tangled sheets and entwined bodies began to sharpen in his mind for the brief moment it hung tantalizing him with promises before it hazed and shaped into a face he knew better than his own. An ice blue gaze framed with ebony hair deflated his interest quicker than a cold shower.

Damn, even his body betrayed him.

Since they decided to see where things led, Darius did his damndest to avoid his best friend. Not such an easy task when they lived in the same house. Okay, mansion, but they still lived in the same wing where running into each other was a given. To say the tension between them thickened to the consistency of pea soup was not an overstatement. After two days of near collisions— Darius fled to the only place he knew would give him any respite he so desperately craved.

Or so he thought.

And here he stood with a beautiful woman wrapped around him like saran wrap and all he could think about was Simon. As if summoned by his thoughts the object of his torture moved through the crowded room and his icy gaze zeroed in on him like a beacon in the mass of humanity. With a determined stride, he plowed his way toward Darius. His gaze stopped on the woman still clinging to him like a second skin and gave her a curious look.

Simon leaned negligently against the bar and smiled, his eyes never straying from the woman. “I thought you’d be here.”

“Yeah, where else would I be.” He took a long pull of his beer and suddenly wished the woman plastered to him would leave.

And that just proved how fucked up, he really was.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your lady friend here?”

“Lady friend meet Simon.”

“Smooth.” He laughed, shaking his head before turning that bright white smile on the woman with a calculated gleam in his gaze. “Darius here lacks a few social graces, I’m afraid. Have we met before?”

“Not in this life.” The woman laughed softly, giving him the once over before she moved closer to stand between the two of them. “The way you both look, I can forgive the lackluster introduction. I’ll even let you both make it up to me,” she added with a sultry, half lidded look.