A subtle cough penetrated the sexual haze overriding Sasha’s senses and flooding her body with a sweet sensation she didn’t want to let go.
Slowly Derek pulled back, his dark gaze unwavering, a smile lurking in their depths. Only she wanted to chase his lips, get back the kiss that had blocked out the pain in her cheek and brought back flashes of her time as a battlefield nurse in WWII.
His lips hitched in that heart-stopping grin of his. “The real world is calling.”
“Do we have to answer?”
“Don’t worry, I have plans to take us both back to paradise.” He snuck one more swift kiss. “Later.”
He got to his feet and held out a hand, helping her up. “You need to see a doctor.”
“No.” She waved that away. The stabbing sensation in her face had decreased to more of a light throbbing. “Some ice and I’ll be fine.” But she didn’t shake off the arm he’d draped around her, as she once would’ve. Derek made her feel cherished and safe. Possibly for the first time since . . .
Oh, heavens. Was it disloyal to have feelings for a man other than King Arthur Pendragon? Fifteen hundred years was a hell of a long time to hold on to a love who’d died. Who hadn’t loved her back the same way anyway. And being in Derek’s arms was just . . . right.
She’d never considered a mortal man because she’d known she’d outlive him. After losing Arthur, she didn’t want to risk that kind of pain again. But if she could get her mortality back, maybe—
Sasha choked back a small gasp. Wait a minute. That battlefield, that vision . . . the perspective was all wrong. She had seen the scene through Derek’s eyes. That was her across the room, tending one of the men.
Holy. Shitballs.
How could he have been involved in WWII? Was he a reincarnated soldier? No, reincarnation didn’t exist. Or did it? Jeez, she was losing her mind.
“We’ve called the police,” Tristain interrupted her haywire thoughts.
I must be in shock. Her head hurt from all the unanswered questions, not to mention the two blows to her cheek.
Tristain glanced at the military-style watch on his wrist. “They’ll be here any minute.”
“Thank you for your help.” Good. At least she sounded calm and not like the shaking little girl deep inside who’d been scared silly. “We’re lucky you showed up.”
The two shared a cryptic glance, and Tristain dipped his head.
“It wasn’t luck,” Haden said.
Must protect her.
Sasha frowned as she caught the random thought. Was it said out loud, like that time when she’d heard Derek? But that was weeks ago. She must have imagined Haden’s thought.
“What does that mean?” Derek’s arm tightened around her.
She’s one of the fated.
Okay, she definitely heard that this time. She directed her attention to Haden, focusing her ability to plant a thought, to direct actions. Lift your right arm. Haden raised his arm, a quizzical look on his face.
Right, so she could still nudge people to do things, nothing wrong with her power. She tried to focus again on Haden, but nothing. She heard nothing. Maybe she hit her head when she fell and was hearing things.
The flash of blue and red lights preceded the cop cars, which entered the parking garage.
“We’ll explain everything after the police leave.” Tristain cast Derek a hard stare. “And we’ll want to know exactly who and what you are. In the meantime, a Taser is what electrified that guy you fried. Agreed?”
Derek jerked a nod.
Sasha’s heart rate kicked into high gear. What, exactly, were they planning to share? She cast a glance upward to find Derek’s jaw granite hard. He’d risked his life—and exposure of his power to others—to save her. Tristain and Haden had seen him, so his secret was out. But what about her secrets? She still had a stone to steal and destroy and a sorceress to avoid. But could she ruin Derek with those actions?
Shit. What a mess.
• • •
“Thanks for your help.” Sasha shook the hand of the officer or detective—she couldn’t remember what title he’d given before he’d started in on all the questions.
They’d hauled away the three thugs who’d attacked them. Then they’d taken her back up to the boardroom and sat her down with a cup of tea. Derek, Tristain, and Haden had been taken away separately for questioning.
“I’ll be right down the hall,” Derek had said, giving her hand a squeeze. She’d held on to the warmth that tiny gesture had engendered in her through the long night.
Now, finally, the police left, and silence reigned in their wake.
“Hey.” Derek popped his head in. “You okay?’
She rubbed her tired eyes. “Yeah. You?”
Instead of answering, he moved inside, picked her up off her chair as though she were a feather, and sat down with her across his lap, his arms wrapped around her.
Sasha dropped her head onto his shoulder, exhaustion nipping at her heels. “I’d push you away and give you hell for manhandling me, but I’m too damn tired.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her. “I can tell.”
She meant it. Tomorrow she’d reestablish the distance between them. Right now, he felt too good against her.
A sharp knock made them both swing their gazes around to find Tristain standing in the open doorway. “Sorry to interrupt. My brothers are here to talk if you’re both ready.”
She pushed away, but Derek tightened his arms around her, so she stayed.
Other than compressing his lips, Tristain didn’t bat an eye. Interesting. She got the impression he wasn’t too happy with her and Derek getting close to each other. Could it be a professional objection? Somehow she didn’t think so. Tristain had always struck her as the least judgmental of Arthur’s knights. A true warrior, he tended to be the strong, silent type. Even now, he kept his thoughts to himself.
“I know it’s late.” Tristain interrupted her own mental speculation.
A groan escaped her. “I’m really tired. Can we do the dissection discussion tomorrow?” Sasha didn’t have to fake the droop to her shoulders. Her eyelids had turned to sandpaper, scraping over her sensitive eyes in an effort to close and stay that way. And her white silk blouse had lost enough buttons in the scuffle that she had to hold it closed.
Tristain gave her a sympathetic smile, his dark blue eyes surprisingly kind. “The problem is . . . we’re concerned the men who attacked you won’t be the last.”
What will she say when we tell her a witch is after her?
Sasha tried not to jerk in reaction. What the hell? Was her power manifesting? Why now, after fifteen centuries, could she now hear thoughts? That power would’ve been handy a long time ago.
Damn it all to hell, something else she needed to deal with and figure out. Had those thugs been after her? Had Morgan sent them for her, and if so, why hadn’t the sorceress come after her sooner? Getting at her when the dwarves were nowhere near would’ve been easier. They might be little people, but they were strong, trained knights of Camelot. And Derek—what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been with her? If he had left the office when he should’ve, she may not be sitting here with only a bruised cheek. Thank God for his instinct.
Tristain flicked a glance at Derek. “And there are questions that need to be addressed.”
Damn. Meeting with them for a kumbaya-let’s-share-secrets powwow should only be done when fully alert.
She sighed and leveraged herself off Derek’s lap. “Let’s get it over with then.”
Tristain turned and left, and she moved to follow. Only Derek’s hand on her arm stopped her. “You sure?”
Those two words. So simple. But it’d been ages—maybe never—since someone had looked out for her. Truly looked out for her. And her alone. Derek had his own secrets to hide, his own agenda to deal with, but he was worried about her. The cement block she’d built up around her heart started to crumble a little.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Her lips twitched.
“What?” he asked, gaze suddenly hot.
She resisted the urge to lick her lips now; he’d track the movement. Her body responded to the heat flaring in Derek’s eyes. Desire flooded through her veins. “You said we. I’m wondering when we became a we rather than a you and me.”
He chuckled as he rose to his feet, escorting her out the door with a hand at her back. “Who would’ve thought, after that night when you wouldn’t let me save you from that prat in the pub.”
Sasha tilted her chin up to give him a steely-eyed glare, though she allowed a smile to linger on her lips. “Who said I needed saving?”
She hadn’t, actually. Her plan had been to plant the thought in Baldy’s mind that he would have more success outside, but then Derek turned up. She’d also had years of self-defense training. Tonight, though, she’d played the part of the damsel in distress to keep her cover. Her face had paid the price, although she had managed to kick the guy in the family jewels.
“Maybe it was just an excuse to hit on a gorgeous woman who caught my eye.”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. She never blushed, except around him, apparently.
Lance’s office didn’t have enough seating for nine. She and Derek stood together, side by side, and bore the dwarves’ speculative looks, ranging from curious to a strange kind of anger—from Lance, of course.
Lance leaned an elbow against his dark mahogany desk, his easy body language at direct odds with his glower. “We’ve reviewed the security footage from tonight, and Tristain and Haden have filled us in on everything.”
Lance’s gaze zeroed in on Derek. “That’s quite a . . . talent you have.”
Derek frowned. “You don’t sound surprised or shocked to see energy balls shoot out of my hands.”
Sasha tried to school her features to appear similarly confused and suspicious.
“Tell me about you, and I’ll tell you why,” Lance knocked the metaphorical ball back in Derek’s court.
Derek narrowed his eyes then glanced her way, as if asking her what he should do. Her heart swelled. He wanted her opinion! No one had ever trusted her in this way. “They’ve seen it. Might as well tell them.”
He shrugged and turned back to Lance. “There’s not much to tell. As you probably assume, I don’t tell people about it because”—he spread his arms wide—“who the hell would believe me? I didn’t know I could do the energy ball thing until tonight anyway. I’ve only started attempting to control this talent. Until recently, I blew out a lot of lightbulbs, but that was about it.”
“When did this start?” Haden asked.
Derek moved his focus to the blond dwarf whose green eyes reminded Sasha of the purest emerald. “Since I was a kid.” He crossed his arms, setting his feet wide. “I’ve shared my thing. Now it’s your turn. Who is after Sasha? And why?”
The dwarves shared a look, as if debating how much to say.
Just get on with it. Maybe she could cut through some of the bullshit without revealing her situation.
“The stone that disappeared. It wasn’t a normal thief who took it, was it? That’s why none of Derek’s systems were triggered.”
Derek jerked his head to stare down at her.
The others collectively leaned back. She crossed her arms, leveling a look of impatience on them. “Given how easily you accepted energy balls, I’m guessing something . . . unusual . . . is going on here. Doesn’t take a genius, fellas. So, spit it out. What’s going on?”
“A woman with whom we’ve been . . . dealing for many years is after the larger stone we showed you,” Waine spoke up. “It holds magical qualities that she desires.”
Derek coughed beside her. “Assuming we believe in magic, what qualities?”
“It’s called the Immortality Stone. And we’re not entirely sure. We were told of the stone by a powerful wizard. We’ve searched for cent . . . for a long time, and only recently found what we thought was the right stone.” He glanced at Sasha, who remained passive. “But we’ve been wrong before.”
“A wizard? What, like Merlin or something?” Derek scoffed.
Sasha mentally grimaced. Exactly like Merlin. Her father.
“Something like that,” Waine finally said. “And the woman who wants it is also a powerful witch.”
Or bitch. Sasha kept that to herself, then had to bite back a slightly hysterical laugh as seven thoughts echoed her own.
“Okay.” Derek shook his head, as if trying to wrap it around a new reality.
“What does this have to do with me?”
Another set of glances. “When you touched the Immortality Stone, it glowed,” Waine said. “That’s how we knew for sure we’d found the right one.”
“It glowed. So what?” She layered as much skepticism in her voice as possible.
Waine looked to Lance, who nodded. “We suspect the wizard tampered with the stone, so we can only guess at everything it does. One theory is that it’s connected with an ancient prophecy. It’s complicated, but the basics are that sev . . . er . . . several extraordinary women would appear one day, to be paired with powerful men, their perfect matches. Both the men’s and women’s combined strengths would serve to defeat evil.”
Gareth stepped beside his brother. “Rumor has it they came close once. With Camelot.”
“As in the Knights of the Round Table? That Camelot?” Derek asked. Instead of sarcasm, though, he appeared somewhat stunned, a green hue under his skin that hadn’t been there moments ago.
“Exactly,” Gareth said. “The stone is supposed to glow when one of the fated women touches it.”
“And it glowed when I touched it,” Sasha stated, feeling faint. This couldn’t be right. So, the stone wasn’t tied only to their immortality?
The lights overhead started to flicker. “I’m finding this rather difficult to believe,” Derek scoffed.
Sasha reached over and slipped her hand into his, and the lights stopped fluttering. Satisfied, she turned back to the men she’d once considered honorable knights. “I was the only woman in the boardroom when the stone glowed. How would this witch even know about me?”
“A good question,” Tristain said. “But she’s powerful and determined to stop the prophecy, which means killing any woman who might be one of the fated soul mates in the stories.”
Derek’s hand tightened around hers. “This is crazy.”
Lance levered off his desk, stalking forward, his eyes narrowed. “As crazy as electric balls of energy being used as weapons?”
Derek tensed, and she squeezed the hand she still held. “This is . . . a lot to take in,” she murmured quietly.
If what Lance had said about the prophecy were true, there’s no way Morgan would want Camelot to rise again. That was why she wanted the stone. She would have the ultimate power over the Knights. Would she destroy it to destroy their immortality? No, she’d cursed them to walk alone for centuries on end.
The magic. She wanted the stone back to destroy it to get the power Father took from her. That’s what he’d been doing the day she killed him. It had to be. Had he imbued the stone with Morgan’s powers? What about Merlin’s own power? Was part of her father trapped in that rock?
All seven men’s focuses moved to her, unaware of her inner turmoil. Tristain stepped forward, going down on one knee before her. “Know that we are here to serve you. To protect you.”
“I’ll protect her,” Derek snarled.
Tristain ignored him. “If you are one of the fated souls, you are precious and must be saved. No matter what.”
One by one, each of the men went down on one knee before her. Even Lance. Were they still knights, they would’ve sworn their swords to her.
Whoa. No way was she one of Arthur’s knights. Her heart belonged to Arthur—or did it? Currently, the man sitting beside her caused her heart to race. She couldn’t deal with this. “Please stand up. I can’t be one of these women you believe is fated to . . . whatever.” She flapped a hand.
Slowly, they rose.
She had to get out of here.
She backed up a couple of steps, to be brought up short by Derek’s hand still clasped in hers.
“Look . . . I’ve had a rough night. I’d just like to go home. Get some sleep. I’ll . . . think about what you’ve said. Let’s talk about it more tomorrow, when I can think straight.”
“Will you at least let us try to keep you safe until we can talk again?” Waine asked. “There is a private penthouse on the top floor of this building. It is as secure as anything we can provide. You’re tired. Why not skip the journey to your home? Use the penthouse tonight.”
Arguing would only extend the time she’d have to stand here. “Fine.”
Relief eased the matching worry lines furrowing every single one of their brows. She wouldn’t be surprised if they intended to spend the night in their offices close by. What would they think if they found out who she really was? No way could she be one of the prophesied women. Otherwise, they would’ve found her sooner. During the time of Camelot, Arthur would’ve known, or surely her father.
“I’m staying with you,” Derek insisted.
She turned wide eyes his way. Derek’s expression was fierce—jaw tight, lips compressed, eyes hard—then he winked and flashed her a small grin. “On the couch. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
Sasha’s heart thundered, and the instant, sweet ache between her legs told her she should run like hell. How could she want this man with such intensity in the middle of all this?
“All right.”
None of the dwarves appeared pleased with this plan, but they didn’t object either. “I’ll take you up,” Waine said.
On the way out, Lance called Derek back. She and Waine waited in the hallway at the elevator, but she still caught the gist of the conversation.
“If she is one of the women in the prophecy, she’s not meant for you.”
“I believe that’s up to Sasha.”
Lance gave a cold smile. “It’s up to fate.”
“Fuck fate. And fuck you.”