frown. “I’ve enough troubles without listening to your tedious lectures.”
The woman gave a cackling laugh, crossing to stand before the throne with remarkable ease considering she was completely blind.
“Testy.”
“I’m not testy, I’m furious.” Morgana waved a hand before her nose, her own scent of pomegranates filling the room to cover the hag’s stench. “I’ve devoted a millennium to ridding myself of my brother’s bloodline. I was certain Anna was the last when I roasted her in London. They should be dead. They should be wiped from the face of the earth.”
Modron gave a shake of her head. “They’re like roaches. They refuse to become extinct.”
Morgana pounded her fist on the arm of her throne. “Not this time.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“The last word I had from Sybil was from Chicago.”
The hag’s smile faded, thankfully hiding her rotting teeth. “You intend to travel there?”
Morgana narrowed her gaze. “We’re both traveling there.”
Modron hissed, her hands clutching at the threadbare wool gown that covered her gaunt body. “Leave Avalon? No. It’s too dangerous.”
Morgana leaned forward to slap the woman across the face, the blow powerful enough to send the witch sprawling on the carpet. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you predicted my death.”
Settling back in her throne, Morgana lifted her gaze toward the black mist overhead.
“I know you’re out there, hiding from me like a coward, but I’m coming for you,” she breathed, her hair swirling as her power flowed from her body. She couldn’t see her prey, but she could sense the stirring power. “And when I find you I’m going to rip your heart from your chest.”
Despite the fact that he had been given a bedchamber in a separate wing of the house from Anna, Cezar woke the moment he heard the distant scream.
With the speed only a vampire could call upon he was racing through the hallway, inwardly relieved that the house had been suitably protected against the late afternoon sun. Of course, he would expect no less from Styx.
The last of the scream was still shuddering in the air when Cezar thrust open the door. He was prepared for battle as he crossed the threshold, two daggers in his hand and a matching pair of handguns strapped to his chest despite the fact that he wore nothing but black silk boxers.
Being a guardian to the Oracles had trained him well.
A swift search of the shadowed room and attached bathroom assured him there were no enemies lurking in the corners. He crossed to the bed and found Anna still fast asleep, her beautiful face flushed as she twisted in the throes of her nightmare.
An abrupt, violent surge of relief nearly sent him to his knees as Cezar stacked his weapons on the nightstand and slid beneath the blankets to pull her shivering body into his arms. Dios. He had feared…
Hell, he couldn’t even make himself consider what he had feared. Not now that he held Anna tightly in his arms, her heart beating frantically against his chest and her hands instinctively clutching at his arms.
For a moment, Cezar savored the feel of her warm body that readily curved toward his. He had waited nearly two centuries to once again feel this heady pleasure. To simply have her in his arms.
Burying his face in her soft curls he soaked in her sweet, lightly fruity scent, his hands running a soothing path up the curve of her spine.
She was wearing nothing more than a flimsy bit of silk and lace that Darcy must have loaned to her, but for the moment Cezar was more intent on easing her fear than stirring her passions.
“Ssh, Anna,” he murmured over and over, his lips lightly brushing her ear.
Slowly her trembling lessened and for a blissful moment she snuggled against the hard planes of his body, as if seeking his comfort. Cezar tightened his hold, still whispering softly in her ear.
A strange peace spread through his heart and Cezar realized that if he possessed the power he might have stopped time in this precise moment. To have this woman wrapped in his arms, her slender body bathing him in heat, and the world seemingly far away.
But while he was a consummate warrior, a well-trained guardian, and a fair scholar, his skills didn’t extend to time-stopping.
Anna sighed softly, her breath brushing over the bare skin of his chest, then she opened her eyes to regard him in dazed confusion.
“Cezar?”
“Si.”
Her hands went from clutching him to pressing him away in alarm. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?”
His arms refused to budge. Beneath her alarm at finding him in her bed was a lingering fear. The dream had shaken her and Cezar wasn’t about to leave until he’d discovered what the hell it had been about.
“You were screaming in your sleep.” He settled his head on a pillow, his gaze searching her strained features. “I thought I had better wake you before the cops came to investigate.”
The stunning hazel eyes darkened as the memory of the dream washed over her. “Oh.”
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“About the dream.”
Her brows snapped together. “Why?”
He hesitated before answering. She was already freaked out by being plunged into a world she barely knew existed. The last thing he wanted was to tip her into full-blown panic at the thought that there were demons that possessed the ability to speak, or even attack, through dreams.
“It might be important, querida,” he at last murmured.
“What could be important about a dream?”
“I won’t know unless you tell me.” He studied her stubborn expression. She had her heels dug in and a petulant desire to argue with even the most reasonable request. Obviously a new tactic was in order. With a smile, he shifted to trail his lips down the line of her nose, his hands beginning an intimate inspection of the satin and lace nightgown that had been designed to entice a man’s appetite. And he was definitely enticed. Enticed, beguiled, and suddenly hotter than hell. His fingers flexed in restless need, his lips brushing over hers in a silent persuasion. “Anna, I’m not leaving until you talk to me. However, I can keep myself pleasantly occupied if you prefer to wait.”
Her lips parted to speak and Cezar was swift to take advantage. Deepening his kiss he thrust his tongue into the moist heat of her mouth, his erection throbbing in time to her low moans.
She tasted of fruit, as sweet and rich as a ripe fig dipped in honey. Cezar trembled as his senses roared with life, his entire body taut with the need only she could inspire.
Sucking her tongue into his mouth, Cezar was careful not to nick her with his fangs. Things were spinning out of control fast enough without the danger of his bloodlust being stirred.
His hands smoothed over her shoulders, and then fisted the satin curtain of honey hair. He growled deep in his throat. He wanted to devour her. To take her so completely that he became a part of her very soul.
The heat of her growing desire seared his skin as he untangled their mouths and trailed a line of kisses down the curve of her throat. He could smell her hunger perfume the air, feel her shivers as he thrust his arousal against her stomach.
Anna might not consciously accept that she needed him, but her response proved that nothing had changed in the past two centuries. His touch could still make her body burn with desire.
Muttering his approval, Cezar trailed his fingers through the honey hair before moving them down the length of her back.