Master of the Hunt (Merlin’s Legacy #7)
Chapter One
Dearg
The Grand Palace of the Two Kingdoms, Mageverse Earth,
My second cousin was plotting treason again.
I strode toward the private library in my parents’ wing, my boots clicking over the jeweled tiles. I needed to brief Dad on Goran Galatyn’s plot. We had to quell the bastard’s little rebellion before he dragged us all into another civil war.
My hand slid to the messenger pouch that held the evidence of Goran’s guilt.
For the past month, I’d had my spies working to discover the extent of the treason -- the allies Goran had assembled, the knights, mercenaries, and armsmen he’d recruited or hired.
My agents were well-placed and reliable -- a high-ranking knight, a noblewoman, one of my cousin’s so-called friends, and Goran’s mistress, all of whom had reason to hate the bastard.
The evidence they’d collected was solid, corroborating each other even though none of them knew about the others.
I’d compiled the reports and documents they’d produced into a coherent picture that revealed just how close Goran was to launching an attack.
Fortunately, the plot had yet to pick up steam. My father was a popular king, generous and fair, and his Morven subjects weren’t interested in swapping him for a predatory tyrant. Not after my uncle’s hellish reign.
With Dad’s approval, I’d head for my cousin’s mansion in the morning and… remind him why betraying King Ll?r Galatyn was a bad idea. Goran, you cretin, Dad gave you one second chance already. That’s all you g --
The vision hit between one step and the next, driving into me like a tournament lance. My knees buckled. I tripped, my face smacking the marble with a painful pop of light. The world dropped away.
Huge, brilliant eyes stared into mine, irises somewhere between green and gold, hot and lazy with passion.
One corner of the woman’s lush mouth crooked up as she smiled.
Her hair was long, a gleaming mass of green curls that tumbled around pale, bare shoulders.
Her graceful fingers slid through my hair, her touch both sensual and soothing.
“I love you,” she breathed, her voice throaty, rich with need. “I need you. Now.”
My cock hardened in a rush. No surprise, given the feel of her lean, athletic body, the sweet curves of her small breasts. But what did surprise me was the peace I felt -- as if I’d found the love my parents had. This is a hell of a lot better than my usual vis --
I should have known better.
The vision shattered into a thousand fragments amid breathless howls of pain.
The accompanying image was worse. Huge talons gripped the woman I’d just been making love to, digging in as the creature crushed and twisted her like a scullery maid wringing a rag.
Bones crunched and her green eyes bulged, screams breaking off into a breathless wheeze of terror and anguish.
An immense raptor beak punched into her belly…
No! My horror snapped like thin ice over hot rage. I roared, trying to draw the jeweled sword at my hip, but my body lay paralyzed.
The vision tore, the pieces flying away like shreds of parchment in a hurricane.
My vision version gripped the curve of the woman’s ass as I pressed her against the wall. “I swear they won’t get you as long as I --”
Shreds flew, and she was dressed like an American cop in a black uniform, a gold badge gleaming on her chest. She stood crouched and ready with a longsword in her hands in front of a shop window.
The English words Summerwood Spells and Potions flowed in gold script across the expanse of plate glass.
Lovely face cold with fury, she stepped forward, swinging the sword with impressive strength --
Another blade rammed straight through her chest. Her unseen attacker lifted her off her feet and kicked her body off his sword, sending her flying backward to slam into the window. It shattered, and she fell into the display beyond, landing amid tumbling bottles that broke under her weight.
Sickened, I stared through the glass shards as she writhed in pain, gasping, the light draining from her huge green eyes as pumping blood soaked the window display --
The scene broke apart again, and she pressed silken and strong against vision-me as I suckled her pretty bare breasts --
I watched her die again.
The tortuous visions went on and on, me making love to her, then witnessing her murder, each death more twisted and violent than the last -- eaten by monsters, screaming in agony as she burned like a torch, crushed under a hurtling boulder, thrown by unseen hands over the edge of a cliff, hacked apart with a massive axe.
Nightmare piled on nightmare until I prayed for her torture to end.
I was no stranger to watching people die -- I’d killed my share.
But watching the cop die again and again drove sick, helpless despair through me.
In between those hideous deaths, she stared into my eyes with a love I’d thought I’d never find.
Women bedded me for the power and bragging rights that came with fucking a prince, but they didn’t love me.
I was the King’s dog, not quite Sidhe enough despite my royal blood.
To everyone, it seemed, but her.
The vision tore for the last time, and I found myself lying on cold tiles staring at a marble column, my head aching so hard, my eyes throbbed.
“What. The fuck. Was that?” The words emerged as a rumbling growl. I pushed myself to hands and knees that were as huge and furry as the rest of my body, fingers tipped in three-inch claws. My werewolf form. When did I shift?
Didn’t matter. I had to find her, protect her, whoever she was. Right the hell now.
Yes, Cachamwri’s voice rumbled from the depths of my mind, the Dragon God’s magic vibrating in my bones. Without her, we’re all lost. Find her in Summerwood and let nothing separate you until she’s safe. Show no mercy to any who would feed upon her.
Over the fifteen years since Cachamwri had demanded my service, I’d never craved a mission. I craved this one. I had to save her. I couldn’t let her die, let her suffer, let the assassins torture her. I’d have gone after her even without your orders.
I know. That’s why you’re my Blade. The god sounded smug.
But Cachamwri wasn’t the only one I owed a duty to. I’ve got to tell Dad I’m going. I can’t let him get blindsided by this… whatever the hell it is.
Yes, tell him. But be quick. Without you, she’ll die tonight.
I struggled to my feet, as clumsy and aching as if I’d been beaten with a bag of bricks. Grimly, I headed down the corridor, the pain falling away as Cachamwri’s strength flooded me, washing away the ache and confusion.
Bones crunched and her green eyes bulged. Screams breaking off into a breathless wheeze of terror and anguish. An immense raptor beak punched into her belly --
The hall spun, and I stumbled against the wall, swallowing bile. I’d be experiencing flashbacks until I fulfilled my assignment. Goran Galatyn’s rebellion would have to wait.
Your father will have no kingdom to save if she dies, the dragon god told me.
I didn’t doubt Cachamwri. Whoever was behind this was a monster, and I wanted him dead as badly as my god did. I’d never met the green-haired woman, but I knew her. Her taste, her smile, her passion. I wanted to know even more. Ached to know everything.
Some sane part of me rebelled. This isn’t me. I didn’t do love at first sight -- not after getting kicked in the teeth by court ladies so often. Especially not because of a vision, for Cachamwri’s sake. I wasn’t that kind of impulsive idiot.
But this clawing need said otherwise. I couldn’t let the fuckers kill her.
You have thirty minutes. No longer. Cachamwri’s thundering presence faded to a distant mental rumble.
I sighed in relief as the crushing pressure lifted.
Reaching for my magic, I shifted back to Sidhe form, the blue brocade and silk of my court garb returning, jeweled sword swinging in its scabbard by my left hip.
Something stung my leg like a hive of bees, the pain so sharp, I jerked and swore. An abrupt, grinding hunger rolled over me -- not for food, but the blood of the woman’s would-be assassins.
Grimacing, I looked down at the green stinging sparks swirling from the sword I wore.
Oh, hell, it’s Dragon’s Breath. Cachamwri had transformed my weapon into his magical great sword.
Sighing, I drew it, listening to Breath’s reptilian hiss as it left its scabbard.
Its green glow flooded the corridor, so bright I had to shield my eyes with my free hand.
“Well, Cachamwri’s in a mood,” I muttered. “This is going to be a shitshow.”
The gem-encrusted sword I carried had transformed, lengthening, the entire weapon turning emerald green.
Its hilt had assumed the shape of a dragon, tail curled around the glowing blade, spread wings serving as the cross guard.
The creature’s open jaws formed the pommel, gripping a huge green gem that matched its eyes.
Sparks radiated from the stone to rain around my booted feet.
Cachamwri wanted me and everyone else to know I had a job, and I wouldn’t be doing a God’s cursed thing other than that job.
The sword would goad and torment me until I’d done my duty to the letter -- or died. Fuck, this is going to be bad.
Though I’d known that the first time I saw the green-haired woman die.
I’d carried out Cachamwri’s missions for years, but he rarely gave me Dragon’s Breath. When he did, it meant I’d be knee-deep in blood until all my targets were dead. The spirit of death and vengeance that inhabited the enchanted weapon wouldn’t be satisfied with less.
I slid Dragon’s Breath back into its scabbard and headed toward my parents’ wing, my strides long and urgent.