Hot Blooded

Clarice's neck before
her impressionable sixteen-year-old eyes?"
    "Yes," he said, trying to sound as if the answer didn't matter.
    Morgana lifted a creamy shoulder. "No. Grace worships you, my fine stud,
though she'd rather eat glass rather than admit it. You killed your lover to
save her life. That does tend to impress a girl."
    He relaxed fractionally. "Then why… ?"
    She looked off across the softly glowing landscape. "I denied her mother the
Gift, and Grace blames me for her death. Never mind that Jenae was even less
suited to becoming a Maja than Clarice."
    Lance grimaced. "I can see why she wouldn't be thrilled at the opportunity
now." An image flashed through his memory: Grace as a young girl, her face
parchment white after her encounter with Clarice's Gift-addled mind.
"Particularly since she knows what the Mageverse can do to someone who can't
handle it."
    "That won't be a problem for Grace. She's got enough strength and
self-control not to be overwhelmed. And her potential is breathtaking." Turning
that molten smile on him again, Morgana stepped close enough to cup his sex with
one small, cool hand. "All you have to do is use your considerable… talents
until you trigger her Gift."
    Lance kept his body relaxed and still, though he ached to snatch her into his
arms and sink his fangs into that white throat, grind his erection into her hot,
welcoming sex.
    That, or retreat to the other end of the balcony.
    Since either would demonstrate just how much power she had over him, he
stayed where he was and arranged his features into an expression of boredom,
keeping his mouth firmly closed. A waste of time, of course, since she probably
knew his fangs were lengthening as rapidly as the cock under her palm.
    "Mmmm." Morgana's lashes lowered as she squeezed ever so gently. "How long
has it been since you've drunk from a Maja's throat, Lord Lancelot?"
    Her truth spell shot from those long fingers and sank into his body like a
flaming dart. "Twenty-two days," he spat, unable to disobey. Withholding sex was
a favored Majae trick that kept the balance of power weighted in their favor.
    Red lips pulled into a moue of mock sympathy. "So long? The Craving must be
intense." She stepped away from him. Lance knew better than to snatch her back.
"
Grace
should satisfy it nicely."
    "Somehow I doubt she's going to be that easy."
    "It's up to you to persuade her. Latents are naturally hot-blooded. Once you
get her into bed, you can use that luscious cock of yours to make her lose count
of the rides you give her. She'll be one of us before she can drag herself
away."
    "And if her mathematical skills are stronger than you expect?"
    Something ugly moved behind Morgana's lovely green eyes. "Don't take no for
an answer."
    Lance stiffened. "I'm not a rapist."
    The seductive mask dropped entirely, revealing the cold determination beneath
it. "We need that girl, Lord Lancelot. There's something coming, something evil.
If we're going to defeat it, we have to have her." Her lovely eyes turned ugly.
"If you fail me, I'll see to it you face the rest of the Table for it."
    Lance looked away to hide his instinctive flinch. More than once, the Majae's
Council had ordered the twelve remaining Knights of the Round Table—including
Lance himself—to mete out justice to errant vampires. Armed with enchanted
swords that inflicted wounds even a Magus couldn't heal, they could butcher a
man in less time than it took to say the words. Alone, even Lance would have no
chance against them.
    But one did not show fear to Morgana Le Fay. "The rest of the Table has as
little love of rape as I do."
    "But my brother has wanted a piece of you for a very long time—particularly
your head. And I don't think Arthur would be all that picky about how he got
it."
    The truth of that statement sent a twist of pain through Lance, but he denied
it anyway. "You underestimate him, Morgana."
    "Perhaps. And perhaps not." She smiled ever so slightly. "The problem with a
Truebond is that it leaves no room for comfortable illusions. And Arthur knows
exactly how Guinevere feels about you."
    He snorted. "Don't try to play me, Morgana. Gwen's like you—ice and ambition
all the way to the core. I was nothing to her except a way to force a Truebond
out of Arthur."
    "Perhaps." She stepped in close again and directed a feral smile into his
eyes. He managed not to back away. "And perhaps Arthur is afraid you