“No, you won’t,” she breathed, locking her gaze with his and stepping in again.
“Don’t…” He was breathing hard now, his gaze a little wild. And there was something in them she didn’t like at all. Something that wasn’t desire for her body. But it’s not going to overwhelm him, because he won’t let it. She stroked her fingertips over the hard line of his jaw, a little rough with stubble. “I’ve got nothing to fear from either of you.” And she pumped more of that werewolf magic into the air. Her body was aching despite the situation, nipples hard, pussy wet. Which said a lot about the strength of the Burning Moon, considering the menacing energy boiling around Conal.
Again, Helena stretched up to kiss him again, and this time she lingered. Her tongue traced the seam between his lips, tasted his breath. He smelled like ozone and dark energy. Nothing like Conal at all. Never mind that. The lips were the same, the body under the armor was the same. “Make love to me,” she whispered against his mouth. “I need you.”
“Helena,” he said in Liam’s voice. “Get away! We’re not… I’m not safe.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at her friend as he stared out of Conal’s eyes. “I don’t believe that for a minute. I’m your priestess, remember? The best priestess you’ve ever had.”
He shuddered at that. “Because you’re the only one I never killed.”
“And you’re not going to kill me now either. You don’t want to.”
* * *
Helena. The taste of her filled his mouth, pulling him back to himself through the raging storm of memory and madness that was the god of death. He knew that impossibly seductive scent, that delicious taste, despite the lingering reek of blood and smoke. But he could also feel Siobhan’s power just feet away. He could eliminate the threat she posed to Helena, his sisters, Beltane, and Maeve. End the bitch as Maeve should have done thirty years ago. They’d all be the safer for it. No one else would have to suffer at the bitch’s hands again.
He remembered the grinding pain, the helpless rage, the bite of her whip. Five years of humiliation. “If I don’t kill her now,” he told Helena in a voice that almost sounded like his own, “She’ll come after us again.”
If he killed her, she’d never threaten any of them again. No one would. He’d have the power to see to that. There’d be no more Times Square Massacres, no invasions by would-be Mageverse dictators.
And the power she’d give him! He knew how it would feel. That furious storm of magic would race through his blood, light up his brain and his heart in an electric surge like the lives of the Dark Ones he’d fed on more than a millennium ago. How those deaths had sung in his blood… there had been nothing sweeter.
I should do it, whispered a hungry, ancient voice. Do it now, before she can convince me to stop.
He remembered that voice. Remembered that hunger. The rage that could never be sated. How every Dark One he’d killed had plunged him deeper and deeper into madness. He’d killed too many of the aliens in those days, drunk their lives and obscene hunger until death and suffering sated him more than justice. They had corrupted him. And even after they were gone, he’d gone right on killing, turning on his own people, unable to stop until he’d been stopped by Maeve and Cachamwri, god of dragons.
I’ll become that again. He tore his gaze away from Helena’s beautiful, seductive face, and his eyes fell on a splash of orange and gold feathers in a nearby tree. Essus, no longer aflame, staring at Conal with an expression of anguish and terror that made his heart clench. The bright feathers of one wing were burned black, and the eagle shivered in wracking pain. Even fireproof as he was, Conal had almost burned him to death.
I did that. My dearest friend, and I did that…
“Conal,” Helena said, her voice velvet, her scent pure sex.
He looked down into those dark, trusting eyes and shivered as he felt the magic in her, calling to the dark, endless need that filled him until there was room for nothing else. “Get away,” he told her, trying to ignore the hungry voice whispering, I can keep her safe. I can keep them all safe.
Until I kill them all. He stared into Helena’s face, into the love that burned in her eyes. He remembered the taste of her mouth. Remembered how he’d felt last night, listening to her heart beat.
The hot joy of devouring Siobhan’s life force was no match for the pure, shining peace he’d felt in Helena’s arms. Especially since killing Siobhan would destroy everything I am.
Get out, he told Liam. Get out of me. I am not going to become a monster. I’m not going to become Siobhan. I will not become death.
No, Liam agreed sadly. You’re not. I’m not going to do it to you.
The power began to retreat, that vast, insane energy draining away. The scarred victim in him screamed in fear, but he silenced it, refused to grab for the magic. Forcing himself to release it even as his knees went horribly weak, and he wanted to snatch the power back. He didn’t.
Something thumped on the ground at his feet. Head spinning, he looked down. It was the pistol. “I don’t want to be a monster anymore either,” Liam said.
“Oh, thank God!” Helena gasped, her arms tightening around his neck as she let her head fall against his chest. She began to shake in long, wracking tremors.
“I’m sorry!” The sound emerged as a broken rasp, his vocal cords strained from Lugh’s inhuman power. He wrapped his arms around her, shuddering as he remembered how close he’d come to hurting her.
Something bright red and yellow fluttered toward them, and Essus thumped more than landed on his shoulder. Conal was surprised he could fly at all, given that burn. “God, boy! I thought he’d killed you!”
Helena lifted her head and sucked in a breath at the sight of burned feathers and blistered skin. “Crap, Es! Are you all right?”
Conal felt sick. “Essus, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Conal.” The eagle ruffled his feathers and ducked his head. “It’s almost impossible to burn a phoenix eagle, even with that much power. Stings a little, and I’ll be flying like a chicken until Maeve heals me. But it was a small price to pay to help Helena bring you back.”
Conal and Helena leaned in, studying the singed feathers. He realized with relief that the bird was right. But if he’d used a little more power… Ice rolled over him. “Jesus, that was close.”
Helena’s mouth tightened, and the gaze she turned on him held anguish. “I should have warned you about the geas release, but it never occurred to me I’d have to use it. Maeve gave me the code when I got this job -- it was strictly ‘break glass in case of apocalypse.’ Then… there was no way to warn you.” She shuddered. “Christ, I almost destroyed us all.”
“But you didn’t,” Conal told her, staring down into those dark eyes, so full of regret. “There was nothing else you could do.” He swallowed, aware suddenly of how much she must trust him to take such a risk. Of all people, she knew what Liam was capable of, but she’d still trusted Conal with his power. It was humbling.
He took another breath to speak… and gasped as raw lust roared through him, a pheromone tsunami. Oh, God, he thought, with one last flicker of drowning sanity, The Burning Moon… And then there was room for nothing but heat in his brain. With a ragged groan, he lowered his head and took her mouth.