Page 38 of To Love a Dark Lord

Damn it, she was sick of doing that to him.

“You fought.” He tilted her head to look at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And the Gossamer Lady does not fight without intending to end a life. Do not lie to me.”

“I—I’m not, it’s true.” She looked away. Shit. “Just not all of it. Please, don’t kill her.”

“And why should I not?” His expression darkened. “It was she who declared war against us.”

“It’s—it’s not her, really. I mean, I don’t want anybody to die. I really don’t. And I get why she’s scared of what you’ll do. She isn’t wrong.” She shook her head and tried another tactic. “It’s Galahad. I don’t want to hurt him like that.”

Mordred shut his eyes as he took a moment to think. “If he kneels and swears fealty, I will let him live.”

“You know he won’t.”

“Precisely.”

“Mordred…”

“I do not wish to argue with you. Not tonight. Not here.” He opened his eyes to watch her again. “May we defer this discussion until we are home in my keep?”

“Fine. But I…um…” She paused. “About your keep.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What did you do to it?”

“It’s nothing, it’s fine, it’s just—we’re going to have company.” She smiled shyly. “The villagers are raising an army. I might have told them you’d help us defend them against the elementals.”

The laugh that left him was genuine. As was the amusement and adoration in his eyes. “You seek to march a band of mortal villagers to fight creatures far more powerful than they are?”

“It’s—I mean, they have a right to defend themselves. And I couldn’t do it alone. With Thorn and Zoe trying to—” She broke off. Damn it. She just kept digging everyone deeper graves.

“Gwendolyn.” His tone had that hardness to it that said she wasn’t going to squeeze out of this one.

Her shoulders slumped. “They’re both vying for the throne of Avalon. The moment you were gone, Thorn raised her own forces to try to take it. And Zoe is waiting for Thorn to get killed or wounded before she offs her and takes it for herself.”

Mordred laughed again, but this time it was edged with a devious, almost sadistic joy. “How wonderful. So, if I understand correctly, we are looking at a fight between three forces. Ours, backed by my iron army and a motley crew of villagers. Thorn and her elementals. And the Gossamer Lady and whatever ploy she attempts to destroy us.”

Gwen chewed her lip a little, thinking it through. “Yeah, I think that’s all of it.”

“You have been busy in my absence.”

“Look, it isn’t my fault! Zoe came after me, and Thorn is just a raging bitch already, so?—”

Mordred broke her off with a kiss.

A kiss that slowly deepened, slowly grew in passion, until she was breathless as he broke away. His hand threaded into her hair as he feathered kisses along her jaw, working his way down her throat.

She shivered. “I thought…”

“I will go easy on us both,” he murmured as he undid the tie of her halterneck top at the back of her neck.

It was probably a really stupid idea. But she couldn’t bring herself to say no. Her eyes slipped shut as he finished untying the laces that held her shirt on, tossing the fabric aside. He shifted them, laying her down on the soft grass as his lips continued to wander over her skin. His breath was hot as it pooled against her in sharp contrast to the chill of the ground beneath her.

When he captured one of her nipples in his mouth, nipping it between his teeth, she couldn’t hold back the quiet moan that left her. He was way, way too good at getting her engine running. He sat back on his heels briefly to pull his shirt off over his head and to finish stripping both of them off the rest of their clothes. His body was such a work of art, the muscles that seemed enhanced by his scars. It made him somehow real—somehow touchable.

She didn’t try to stop herself from letting her hands roam over him, savoring it. Until this moment, she wasn’t so sure she’d ever be with him again. Come what may, she loved him. And right now, she needed him.

He trailed his kisses downward again, picking up where he left off, wandering down to her navel. His goal was clear. She whimpered as he parted her legs—the sound turning into a quiet cry as his tongue ran along her core before delving inside.

It seemed he was in no rush. He was savoring this as well, taking his sweet time as he lavished her, his hands continuing to roam over her, squeezing and kneading whatever he could reach. It felt amazing—but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. More of him.

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