“Not a good idea,” Essus reminded him urgently. “What if Siobhan comes to? You need to…”
“Lost cause,” Liam told him a little tightly.
But Helena was stretched against him, and her lips tasted of raw sex, and Siobhan could fuck right off for all…
Essus fluttered down off his shoulder, landing on the ground at their feet. Conal barely noticed, all his senses focused on the taste of Helena’s mouth, her feverish hunger as she kissed him back. He had to feel that long, soft body naked against his, the tight clasp of the pussy he could smell with every breath. He had to fill his hands with her soft skin… He pulled back, panting. “I’ve got to get out of this fucking armor…”
“God, yeah,” she groaned. “I need you. I need you so damn…”
As lust ripped over him in a savage wave, he looked down and began to search for a way to get the armor off…
“Ahem,” Liam said dryly from their feet. Essus had one claw planted on his pistol butt, looking wild-eyed. “If Siobhan comes to, we’ll be right back where we started. I hate to do this, but…” An ice-cold cascade of water slammed down over them. They staggered apart, choking and sputtering.
“Thank you,” Essus said dryly.
“Es!” Conal snapped, raking wet hair out of his face with armored hands. “The hell?”
“What is wrong with you?” Helena gasped, shaking her head and sending a spray of water flying. She was wearing her shredded dress again, as if he’d zapped her back into it.
“Common sense?” Essus said tartly.
“You can couple like bunnies after we’ve got the big bad Fairy locked up at the palace.” Liam sounded amused, the prick. As if he hadn’t almost made Conal kill everyone he cared about.
Conal glared down at the gun, seriously tempted to drop kick him over the trees, but he had a point. This wasn’t the time. Damn it. “Fine,” he snarled. He stalked over toward the unconscious demigoddess. She sprawled there on the ground, looking deceptively fragile, bruises darkening her face. For a moment he felt like a bully…
The chain tightened around his throat, the troll twisting his leash, laughing. Conal fought not to gag as the spiked whip tore another flaming strip out of his back…
“Conal,” Helena said softly, moving to join him, Liam in one hand. Essus rode her shoulder again, glaring down at Siobhan as if she were a field mouse he’d like to eat. “You all right?”
“Just… suppressing the urge to break her neck. But that would feed her to Liam and defeat the purpose.”
“I can shift and…”
Conal took a deep breath. “No, I’ve got it.” Bending, he scooped the demigoddess off the ground and swung her into a fireman’s carry. For moment he was surprised how light she was, even in armor. Especially compared to Helena’s lean body with its Direkind-dense muscle.
He reluctantly wrapped an arm around her knees so he wouldn’t drop the bitch onto her head. Which isn’t a bad idea. For a moment he was seriously tempted… and then he firmly pushed the thought away.
Without needing to be asked, Liam opened a dimensional gate to Maeve’s palace. They walked through, Conal trying to ignore Siobhan’s armored ass in his peripheral vision. The gate opened on Maeve’s gallery hall, with its gleaming dark-grained wood wainscoting, niches holding white marble statues of gods and goddesses, heroes and monsters. Huge chandeliers hung overhead, each glass pendant shedding a soft white magical glow.
A Chihuahua, clicking along the marble floor toward them, froze in mid-step. The dog’s bulging eyes bulged even more. “Helena?” he asked in the voice of Alec Guinness. As always, it sounded a strange coming from such a tiny body. “Is that Siobhan? What happened?”
“One hell of a fight,” Helena said grimly. “Where’s Maeve?”
“In the forge. Is Siobhan dead?” The dog’s ears perked hopefully.
“No, unfortunately,” Essus said.
“Where can I put her?” Conal growled. “I’m becoming less trustworthy all the time.”
The dog nodded, ears dancing. “There’s a spelled room Maeve used to use when Siobhan… misbehaved as a girl. Magic doesn’t work in there.” Guinness turned and scampered off as they followed at his tiny heels, turning down one corridor after another.
No matter how many times he visited, Conal was always struck by the size of the palace. What’s more, every inch seemed stuffed with beauty -- cut crystal chandeliers, intricately carved wood furnishings, hand woven tapestries and rugs, paintings and statuary to dazzle the eye. And almost all of it hosted something feathered, scaled or furry.
Members of Maeve’s menagerie stared from corners, sat atop furniture or clung to chandeliers. Everything from housecats and dogs to jaguars, koalas, lemurs and chimpanzees. He even spotted a grizzly. Voices murmured in excitement as they passed. “Is that Siobhan?”
“Is she dead?”
“No, damn it, I can still feel her power.”
“May I eat her?” The rumble from behind him sounded even deeper than Guinness’s.
“You know better than that, Shere Khan,” Helena said, aiming a dry smile back at whoever it was.
Conal glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, an enormous tiger paced behind them, green eyes focused on Siobhan’s dangling head with menacing interest. “So it’s not just me, then?”
“She tried to fry me once for insolence,” the tiger told him. “Can I help it that she doesn’t like hearing the truth?” He bounded forward to pace Helena. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, girl.”
“Don’t look at me. It was Conal and Liam.”
Shere Khan blinked at Conal in surprise. “And Liam didn’t eat you? You must be a worthy fellow.”
“He is,” Liam said from his shoulder holster. “He saved me.”
It was Conal’s turn to blink.
“Here we are,” Guinness said, as one of the doors in the hallway swung open just ahead.
Conal started to step inside, but Helena caught his arm. “Careful. There’s a nullification spell built on the walls.”
Sure enough, the minute he stepped over the threshold, the force of gravity seemed to crush down on him as what remained of his power drained away. None of the animals entered as Helena slipped in after him. Even Essus fluttered off her shoulder to perch on Shere Khan’s back.
He’d expected bare stone walls and a cot, but with the room was as well-appointed as the rest of the palace, with a massive, elaborately carved bed, a table with two chairs, an armchair, and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase packed with leather volumes. In his peripheral vision, he glimpsed something pink and meaty. The hip next to his face was bare. Siobhan’s magical armor had vanished.
So had his own, replaced by the black Armani shirt and slacks he’d worn to go dancing with Helena this evening. Siobhan must conjure everything she wore, or she wouldn’t be naked. Grimacing in distaste, he dumped her on the bed. “Let’s get the hell out of here before I invite Shere Khan in for a snack,” he told Helena, and they escaped back into the hallway.
The minute they were over the threshold, his magic rushed back, though it was still a trickle compared to the thundering power he’d commanded with Liam.