Page 15 of Captivated
She scowled and heaved out a sigh. “True. But that was not my doing. He’d been allowed in by the previous Skye queen.”
“Who else could she have allowed inside? For all we know, Elaine Shalott could have been granted access.”
Gwen shook her head emphatically. “That I can attest against with one-hundred-percent confidence. No one of House Shalott is inside this circle.”
Except my queen. She carried Elaine’s blood. That was a new wrinkle in this lifetime. Would Elaine know the moment Gwen claimed me? Would she feel the surge in my queen’s power? The pleasure?
Because I’d fucking kill myself pleasuring our queen.
Gwen’s eyes smoldered, changing from a blue-green hazel to mossy green. Turning, she casually walked over to the massive bed centered in the room. Heavy wooden posts rose from the corners to hold aloft a ten-foot-tall frame swathed with white gauzy streamers. Pausing, she looked back over her shoulder at me, curling her right hand around behind to slowly unzip her dress.
The sound was loud in the room, the silence broken only by the heavy breathing of three enraptured men as the dress slowly fell off her glorious body.
I would have thought she was beautiful whether she was thin or curvy, short or tall. I’d loved her many bodies over the centuries—if given the privilege to see her, even from afar—drawn by her inner spirit more than her physical beauty. But I had to admit that this body had been carved with exquisite perfection by the goddesses.
I traced the lines of her shoulders, proud and strong yet still feminine, down the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist, the swell of her buttocks and hips, to the gentle curve of her calves. A small trickle of dried blood held my gaze a moment, before I dragged my gaze back up for another long drink of her body.
She wore thin white lacy scraps that enhanced the mounds of her ass and breasts as she slowly turned to face me. Her power hummed in the air, glowing from her skin as if she was lit from within by the full silvered moon. Even her skin was flawless, creamy silk.
“How many lifetimes have we never even laid eyes on each other? Let alone been in the same room together.”
I swallowed the razor blades in my throat. “Too many to count.”
“How many lifetimes have you tasted my blood and carried my bond?”
“Never enough,” I rasped out, fisting my hands at my sides. Overwhelming thirst licked through my veins, driving me to madness. I hadn’t tasted Aima blood in years. Never a queen’s blood in the four hundred years I’d been alive. Let aloneGuinevere’sblood…
I had no idea how long it’d been since Lancelot du Lac had fed from his queen and given his life’s blood to strengthen her in return. The memories of doom that were written in my soul insisted it had been millennia.
Muscles clenched, I fought to keep my position until she said otherwise. “A handful at most.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she reached down to slip off the red heels one by one. “We should do something about that, then.” She glanced up at me through her lashes and laughed softly. “All of you.”
I don’t remember moving a muscle, let alone crossing the ten paces or more to her side, but suddenly I was on my knees before her with my brothers-in-arms on either side of me. “My queen. We’re yours. Use us as you see fit.”
