Page 39 of Queen Takes Camelot: Gwen
He jerked up on his hind legs, making my heart thunder desperately. Power flowed through me, a shining river begging to be used. I almost reached for it. I almost defended myself.
Especially when Lance cried out softly.
My alpha. Fuckingwhimpered.
I bit my lip, uncaring that blood dripped down my chin. I fought the urge to race to him. To turn and see what Elaine had done to make such a vulnerable, terrified sound escape my proud alpha’s lips.
The dragon shrank, folding up on itself until only Arthur remained before me. He still smelled like a rutting feral dragon. The odor made me wrinkle my nose, and I averted my face when he leaned down to kiss me. I couldn’t help it. “You positively reek of dragon sex.”
He had the grace to withdraw. In fact, he actually blushed slightly and raked a hand through his hair. “Tiamat used the dragon hard, I’m afraid. I’ll bathe in the Chalice Well after we consummate our union.”
Such a sacrilege. The Chalice Well had always been associated with the Mother. I didn’t imagine that She’d be pleased to have such a man sullying Her sacred waters.
“You still haven’t proven your willingness to be my bride, Guinevere.”
I clenched my jaws. Lips tight, I looked up into his face.
He leered at me and planted his hands on his hips. I didn’t have to drop my gaze to his groin to know that he was aroused. It was no surprise to any of us that he’d be excited at the prospect of humiliating me in front of my Blood. Of using me. Hurting me.
Nothing got him off like abusing Guinevere, especially if he could do it in front of people who actually cared about her wellbeing.
Swallowing hard, I dropped to my knees in front of him.
“No,” Bors growled. “Don’t.”
Arthur snarled at him. “Take a step closer, Sir Bors. Just one step. Let me show you how quickly your head can be parted from your body.”
I closed my eyes. I allowed my shoulders to shake. My breathing sounded loud in the silence, desperate gulps just shy of sobs. Without opening my eyes, I grabbed at his hips and leaned in slightly. Shifting my hand up his thigh. Higher. The tip of his fingers.
Yes.
I closed my right hand over his and threaded our fingers together in a semblance—a mockery—of our union.
Which put my fede ring against the ring he’d stolen from Tylwyth Teg.
My ears rang and throbbed, but I didn’t physically hear anything. My hair lifted from my nape and electricity rippled up my arm, stinging needles as if my hand had touched a live socket.
“What the fuck?” His arm jerked, but I squeezed tighter, keeping the rings pressed together.
Frantic, he punched me repeatedly with his other hand until he managed to knock me back sprawling on my ass. Glaring at me with murderous fury, he roared, “What have you done?”
17
Lance
In my head, I crawled away into the darkest corner I could find. It shamed me to my core, but I couldn’t face the monster that stood over me. She cupped my cheek and she might as well have sliced my chest, cracked open my ribs, and fingered my heart. I shuddered. I gasped. Cold sweat slicked my hair to my forehead.
I knew it was ridiculous to have such a bad reaction to a simple, seemingly innocent touch. But my body remembered not so innocent touches from this woman. I remembered being drugged. I remembered being bound by magic to a bed and not allowed to leave for months. A year. Maybe longer.
My mind flinched away, unable to examine the dark holes where those memories lurked.
“Elaine.” Merlin’s voice echoed from all directions. “The Lady of Shalott. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
“No,” she whispered hoarsely, her fingers digging into my cheek. She pressed closer to me, her other arm frantically clutching at my shoulders. “Protect me, Lancelot. Don’t let him hurt me.”
“Where is your magic web, Elaine? Have you figured out what your curse is yet?”
She smelled of rose water and lemon verbena. Scents that threw me back to a dark tower room. My hands and feet bound to the bed frame. Her hair flowing over my face, drying my tears.
