Hot Blooded

can't do that. Our magic operates only within our bodies, like
the ability to shape-change and heal damn near any injury. Missing legs, for
example."
    "Change shape?" Foster sat back in his chair and stared at him. "Into what?
Wolves and mist and all that stuff?"
    "Wolves, yes. Mist no. The form has to be alive."
    "Okay, so what's this Mageverse?" The young vampire rubbed his temples as if
developing a headache. "Y'all have more bullshit terminology than the Marines,
by the way."
    "The Mageverse is a parallel universe existing alongside our own, where the
laws of physics allow magic," Reece explained. "This is Mageverse Earth, which
occupies the same location in the 'Verse as the realspace version. You can cut
between the two with spells…"
    "Wouldn't it be easier to let Grim explain it?" Lance interrupted. "It makes
more sense when you see the illustrations."
    Champion sighed and rose from his seat. "Probably. Come on, Antoine, I'll
introduce you."
    The two men rose from the table, leaving Arthur and Lance behind. The tension
immediately escalated, bubbling like heated syrup.
    "Making progress with your seduction of Grace Morgan?" Arthur asked at last.
His tone was cool.
    Lance studied him warily. "Since when are you interested in my assignments
for the Majae's Council?" The Majae's Council decided who received the Gift and
who didn't. Arthur, as Liege of the vampires' Magi's Council, was primarily
concerned with the day-to-day operations of the Mission—their efforts to save
humankind from itself. Normally, his only interest in Lance's work for the Majae
was making sure it didn't conflict with Mission assignments. The two councils
voted together on overall policy.
    Arthur shrugged. "The Majae are in a tizzy. Apparently somebody's had a
vision, and none of them likes the looks of it. They're convinced something's
coming, something nasty. And for some reason, they all believe we need Morgana's
granddaughter to stop whatever it is."
    Lance snorted and poured himself a glass from the bottle. "Something nasty's
always coming. We've been trying to keep the human race from committing mass
suicide for sixteen hundred years, and they're only getting more inventive at
it." He swirled the rich, crimson blood in his glass, savoring the anticipation
of his next sip. When he finally lifted the goblet to his lips, the liquid bit
into his tongue, intoxicating and fiery. He sighed in appreciation. "Nice. Who
donated this?"
    Arthur gave him a mocking smile. "You mean you don't recognize the taste?"
    He stiffened. "Contrary to popular belief, I haven't actually fucked every
Maja in the Mageverse."
    "Just all the ones that matter."
    Carefully, Lance put his glass down. "As many times as we've had this
conversation, I'd think you'd have it memorized by now."
    "I do. I just haven't started believing it."
    "It was once, Arthur. Just once. Sixteen hundred years ago."
    "Which is what makes it so impressive."
    "Guinevere didn't give a damn about me, and you know it. All she wanted was
to force you to Truebond with her." Initially, the High King had refused to
enter into one of the new psychic bonds with his wife, thinking she had enough
power over him as it was. Guinevere seduced Lance in an attempt to force his
hand. And Lance, new to his vampire nature, had been unable to resist the woman
he'd loved. He'd been so damn naive. "I meant nothing to her then, and I mean
nothing to her now… Oh, hell, why am I telling you this?" Lance flung up both
hands in disgust. "You're the one in the Truebond. You've touched her soul,
linked with her mind-to-mind in a union nobody can break. You know exactly what
happened between us."
    Arthur bared his teeth. "Oh, yes," he said. "Every last second."
    "Look, I've begged your forgiveness so many times I've lost count. What the
hell more do you want?" He bolted to his feet as his temper snapped. "Do you
want to call me out again? Fine, I'll fight this time. I'll even let you kill
me. It'd be worth it, just to get you off my ass."
    Arthur stared up at him, his face expressionless. "But if I kill you, who'll
Gift Grace Morgan?" A small, cold smile twisted his lips. "After all, nobody
else makes as good a… what was the term?… 'Drive-by fuck bunny.' "
    Aching to call his Liege out, Lance instead punched his fist up, slapping his
biceps with the other hand in an Italian gesture he'd learned years before.
Ignoring Arthur's astonishment at