The redhead made a sound of pleasure deep in her throat and snaked her hands up his chest, clinging to him. Her blood, rich and potent, only intensified his need, his hunger. But not for blood.
He squeezed his eyes tighter, willing away the images of Briana that crowded into his mind. He didn’t want to think about her, didn’t want to imagine it was her skin beneath his lips, her fingers sliding through his hair, her soft whimpers of pleasure.
If not for Briana’s glamorized wraith, he wouldn’t have lingered so long. The perceived threat to her had only sharpened the razor edge he’d been riding for weeks.
He knew better than to get that close to her. Maybe once he could have risked it—nearly had—but that was a long time ago, when he’d been convinced Arthur was untouchable.
But he wasn’t that naive any more. Whatever hope he once carried he might someday be free of Rhiannon had died long ago, right around the same time he stopped believing in the foolish prophecy that Arthur would be resurrected when reunited with his lost sword, Excalibur.
Lucan knew it was Briana coming before she rounded the row of parked cars in the underground lot. He could have easily sent the redhead on her way and been gone himself. Instead he’d stayed exactly where he was.
There was no point in denying who and what he was. He’d stayed far away from Briana after the battle of Camlann, preferring her to remember the times they’d shared before a vengeful goddess had enslaved him, turning him into the darkest version of himself.
Had he known the feelings she’d so innocently awakened a lifetime ago would resurface a hundred times more intense, he would have done more to guarantee she never wanted to see him again.
Nothing good could come from a centuries-old longing that a goddess would ruthlessly exploit. Rhiannon would find a way to use it against him and wouldn’t care if Briana was hurt in the process.
It didn’t matter that her family had proven themselves by handing over two of the six mystical daggers that would supposedly lead to Excalibur. The goddess would never see reason where Arthur’s knights were concerned. Anything they valued was stripped from them, and he refused to see Briana suffer in any way because of him.
So Lucan stayed exactly where he was, his hands wrapped around the redhead, his mouth on her skin—and his gaze locked on Briana.
The darkness inside him stirred without warning, and he mentally tightened his control. It did nothing to temper the beast within that Lucan was starting to suspect had taken far too much interest in Briana.
Briana’s steps faltered, her eyes narrowing at the corners. The unveiled disgust on her face was exactly the response he had hoped for. He just hadn’t counted on it hitting him with the force of a battering ram.
The redhead sighed softly, and he slowly lifted his head from her neck, but didn’t let go of her, and he didn’t take his eyes off Briana.
With short, clipped strides, she stormed past him. She stopped a few cars down and unlocked her car with a stab of a button.
“When can I see you again?” Glassy-eyed, the redhead stared up at him, then frowned. She touched her neck. “Am I bleeding?”
Briana opened her car door, but instead of sliding behind the wheel, she shoved her stuff inside and slammed the door before backtracking. “Are you out of your mind?”
“What’s her problem?” The redhead slurred her speech a little, drunk on the venom in Lucan’s fangs that left his prey compliant. It would also soon make it impossible for her to remember their encounter.
The same venom was problematic to immortals, and in a gargoyle’s case would trigger the shift to animal and then stone. Only mated gargoyles could resist the automatic shift. At least Rhiannon hadn’t been so heartless as to leave the race’s young ones completely unprotected during the day.
Although indestructible in their gargoyle form, the shifters were also extremely vulnerable in those first moments at sundown when they broke free of the stone.
Briana surprised him by taking a menacing step toward the redhead, stopping only when the mortal scrambled backward. Her attention slid to Lucan. “Taking an awfully big risk here. Do you always feed where anyone could come along? Or would you just feed from them too?”
The redhead laughed, the loud sound echoing in the underground lot. “Feed from them?” She cocked her head. “How much has she been drinking tonight?”
Briana shoved her hands in her pockets, the casual gesture at odds with the feral expression. “Not too bright, is she?”
“Hey!”
Lucan roped an arm around the redhead’s waist before she got in Briana’s face. The sharp feline edge in Briana’s voice meant her cat was entirely too close to the surface, and letting a clueless mortal provoke her wouldn’t be smart.
“Let go.” She glanced down. “There’s blood on my dress. Why is there blood on my dress?” The panicked look on her face matched her frantic tone.
“Get him to pay for your dry cleaning,” Briana suggested and walked away. “And you should probably get a room next time. A few huntresses have taken an interest in hanging out here lately, and last time I checked even you had to abide by the same rules as the rest of us.”
He doled out punishments far more vicious than death, and she was lecturing him on staying on a huntress’s good side?
Leaving the redhead—who was already looking a little confused about what was happening—leaning against the pillar, he caught up with Briana.
“It can’t really come as that much of a surprise.”
“That you need blood, hardly. If I’m surprised by anything it’s that…” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Forget it.” She reached for her car door without looking at him.
He snagged her arm, turning her back around.
She growled low in her throat, her eyes gone completely cat. The startling blue depths blazed with a feral night glow. “I said, forget it.”
“You’re angry with me,” he ventured.
“Furious actually.”
“Why?” Revulsion he’d expected—counted on—but mad at him?
“Let go or lose an arm.”
Seeing as the tips of her claws were already visible, he believed she meant it. He still didn’t release her.
“You should go catch your snack before she faints.”
Lucan glanced over at the redhead, who was sliding down the pillar. Briana used the momentary distraction to jerk free of his hold. She wrenched her car door open and slid behind the wheel.
One step to the left prevented her from slamming the door. He searched her face, driven to figure out why she was so angry with him. He knew he shouldn’t care. Hell, he’d wanted her to go, and now there he stood blocking the way.
Fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, Briana cursed. “What do you want from me, Lucan?”
Without pressing her further, he moved back and shut the door. She stared at him through the window, a flicker of—disappointment? hurt?—blinking across her face. He stood motionless as she started the car, then turned away.
He was a few feet away when he froze, something on the air shifting.
Someone was watching them.
Chapter Two
