She rode hard, bringing him to his peak twice more, and just when he thought he had nothing more to give, she swallowed him up from head to hilt until he cried out, sure he had died and gone to…heaven?
They left the bath and used fresh water left in two basins to clean off.
“What do you think of Morgan?” he asked, lying beside her in a comfortable bed. He knew Camelee knew as little as he did. But what if, like Genevra, her memory was coming back slowly? What if she remembered something?
“She’s Sebastian’s mother and one of Viviane and Nimue’s sisters.”
“A sorceress,” he muttered.
“And you’re not a sorcerer?” she challenged.
He didn’t know what he was he told her honestly.
“It doesn’t matter, Wolf. I don’t care what we are as long as we are what we are together.”
“Yes. I agree.” He kissed her one last time before she fell asleep. He watched her for a little while, thanking God for bringing her into his life.
He wondered if Fin had found and killed Leofric. He should return to their time, their world and check on his brother. He would do it in the morning. Though there was coming a time when Fin was going to have to get along without him. He thought that time was now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Morgan wanted topossess him forever. But there were obstacles and the first one was getting him to Avalon. She would have to imprison or kill the remainder of her sisters. All three of them that were left. She trusted no one. Not even her son, Mordred, anymore. They all loved Arthur. She didn’t mind capturing them and holding them forever, just as they had intended to do to her.
But here was a loyal servant, a skillful warrior. Fin Kristiansen—dreadful name—who made her smile, even chuckle in the daylight and groan and pant every night. Yes, she had to stab him a few times, but she always healed him before he died.
She watched him bending to the stream for a drink of the cold water, his yellow braids hanging between his wide shoulder blades. His facial hair was a bit darker around his jaw. He was cut to perfection. His mouth, his body, everything. She wanted to rise and go to him and run her fingertips over his scars.
When he straightened and turned, sensing her gaze, she took in the glorious sight of his whipcord-tight belly. She wet her lips while she took in her fill. She had to be careful or she’d end up in love with him, when she didn’t want to kill him, that is.
“I can feel your gaze on me from here, Witch.”
She didn’t like when he called her that. She didn’t care if she was a witch. It was the way he said it. Like it was the worst thing someone could be.
“Are you falling in love with me?” he asked playfully.
“Do not flatter yourself, Mortal,” she said with the same disdain when he grew closer. “I would rather slice my own throat than love a rogue like you.”
He pouted, scoffing at her. Damn him for being so handsome, so masculine. She didn’t worry that she was in love already. But she could come to be, later.
“Those villagers said they saw your brother twice. He traveled with a woman.”
“I know what they said,” he told her walking ahead. “I was with you.”
He spoke with a frustrated tone. As if she were an annoyance. She should kill him sooner rather than later. But she would miss the rough way he handled her. He never hurt her. He wasn’t a fool. For she would surely kill him if he did. He was just rough enough to make her wet. Besides that, his stamina outdid many fae men she had taken to her bed.
“How do I know who my brother is fu—”
She held up her hand. “Is that what it is to you?”
“Yes,” he told her. “That is what it is. What do you call what we do?”
He was correct. It was raw and brash, and she loved it. “Foolish.”
“Ah, Woman, have more faith in yourself than that.”
“It is you I am concerned about,” she let him know.
“Poor sorceress. Forgive me for stealing your heart. It has been a burden I carry with me every day. I cannot help but make women fall in love with me.”
