Touchdown Daddy (109 page)

Chapter Eight

The kiss was everything Avalon had hoped it would be.

His lips were firm and demanding against hers and a peculiar smoky scent she hadn't noticed before filled her senses. She ran her tongue over his lips, enjoying his taste and his arms tightened around her. He thrust his hips forward, grinding against her and Avalon gasped as her body instantly responded.

His hands moved up her shoulder blades, resting against her neck. Avalon leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his head. A buzzing started at the base of her skull like she'd had a couple of beers, but her mind was perfectly clear. As Vaughn's thumbs stroked the pulse in her throat, she moaned into his mouth.

"Avalon," he whispered, moving his mouth to her neck. Bolts of electricity traveled through her bloodstream, pooling in her core. "You're so beautiful."

His words sent unexpected sparks through her. As confident as she was in her looks, hearing those words was always so nice. She pulled him closer, letting her head fall back.

"You're so handsome… your body is perfect."

"I know." He chuckled into her skin, tickling her with his breath. She instinctively squirmed away, giggling.

In response he spun her around, pinning her hands to her side as he kissed the back of her neck. Avalon ground herself against him, groaning.

"What do you want me to do?" he hissed in her ear.

"I want you to take me."

His hands ran down her body, tracing every curve, before returning to her breasts and squeezing them. "Should I rip off all your clothes and take you like an animal?"

"Yes!" She reached for her waistband but he grabbed her hands and returned them to her sides.

"Or should I undress you slowly and kiss every inch of your body?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"Both!"

Vaughn laughed as he spun her around again, catching her face in her hands. She was hardly aware that he was walking her backward. She was fully engrossed in his tongue flicking into her mouth, fast and wicked, seeming to find all the right spots to fill her with a pooling desire. Both panted, chests heaving, hands dancing over each other's bodies.

The cool air brushed against her skin as he tugged her clothes off, his eyes roaming over her body as though he owned her–and she found she loved it. She loved the raw power, the possessive need in his face as he tore off her lacy bra, fondling her breasts, teasing the nipples with his fingers as he pushed her onto the bed and kissed her hip.

Avalon lost herself, pleasure coursing through her as his mouth focused between her thighs.

She never wanted this to end, but it did–just long enough for him to swing her higher onto the bed and crawl over her, parting her thighs with his knees.

His mouth was on hers again, she tasted herself on his lips, and then he was inside her, thrusting with all his strength. She cried out as pleasure bolted through her, grasping at his shoulders. He pulled back, staring into her eyes, his lips curled back into a snarl.

He finished suddenly and violently, biting her neck before he grew still. Her fingers ran down his back, feeling his muscles bunch and relax. She breathed heavily, gulping in, trying to find words that could describe what she was feeling.

Bliss? Or ecstasy? She'd never done drugs, but couldn't imagine it would feel better than this. And he hadn't even brought her to climax with him! How much better would it be when he did? She grinned, imagining it.

Eventually, he propped himself onto his elbows. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" she gasped.

"I lost control."

Avalon bucked her hips upwards again. "I want you to lose control again."

His eyes widened. "You liked that?"

"Loved it." She curled his red hair around her fingers. "I've been waiting for this for so long…"

Vaughn groaned. "I know. You think I didn't notice those looks you gave me? Your blushes, the way you checked me out when you thought I wasn't looking, the way you'd bend over or flip your skirt up… It's been torture trying to resist you."

"I'm sorry I was torturing you," Avalon said demurely, batting her lashes.

He groaned again, pressing a searing kiss to her mouth. "You're doing it again."

Avalon moaned into his mouth and they spoke no more.

***

They held hands when they left the dorm the next morning, headed for the Offense building to get some more training in.

Avalon couldn't stop grinning, though her body ached for Vaughn's with every step she took. He had insisted that they get to sleep around one, even leaving her in the bed alone to make sure she couldn't tempt him into changing his mind.

"You know," she said casually, leaning against him. "Some people say bigger women are better lovers. Is it true?"

"Definitely," he grinned at her.

Avalon laughed, but the sound was drowned out by a sudden, terrifying screech. She jumped, head jerking from side to side as she looked for whatever it was.

A huge dragon flew low over the Arts building. Its leathery wings beat the air, the narrow head on the end of its long neck swinging back and forth until it narrowed in on Avalon. It was covered in white skin, thick and wrinkled like an elephant's, with two legs ending in gigantic talons. A whip-like tail streamed behind it, ending with a nasty-looking barb.

"Wyvern," Vaughn whispered.

His arm shot out, slamming into Avalon's chest. Pain shot through her ribs as she flew back. She landed with a thump on the grass and saw a large stinger where she had been standing seconds ago. The wyvern ignored Vaughn, swooping in towards Avalon. She scrambled backward and dived under one of the stone picnic tables that dotted the ground.

Claws scraped against the stone. Avalon shuddered, drawing a magical shield around herself.

An enraged roar rang in her ears. Something streaked over her and the white wyvern collapsed onto the ground next to the table, writhing. Avalon slipped out from under the table as it struck out. A Red Dragon stood over the wyvern, flames licking from its mouth. Vaughn.

Avalon gaped, forgetting the wyvern for a moment. She had never seen Vaughn in his dragon form before and he was magnificent.

Everything was sharp points and spikes on him, his red scales gleaming in the sunlight. Four feet like eagle's talons flexed and slashed as he leaped at the wyvern. His tail ended in a spear point that stabbed towards the wyvern.

The White Dragon avoided his strike and took to the air, opening its mouth wide. A cloud of stingers came from the back of its throat, shooting towards Avalon. Vaughn let out a pained roar and let himself drop into the path of the stingers. Avalon screamed.

The wyvern made a sound like laughter–until the stingers bounced off of Vaughn's scales. It whirled around and sprang into the air, rapidly beating its wings.

Vaughn did not chase it. He turned, grabbed Avalon in his front talons and launched himself into the air.

***

The ground swaying beneath her made Avalon sick twice and when Vaughn finally set down in a clearing halfway up a huge mountain, all she could do for a few seconds was lie still. By the time she regained her senses, Vaughn had set up a lean-to with cedar branches and started a fire.

Avalon moved closer, shivering. There was still snow on the peaks around them, and she was only wearing a t-shirt. Vaughn was completely naked, but Avalon couldn't bring herself to admire his body right now.

"Do you believe me that somebody wants you dead now?" Vaughn's expression was furious and he stood, pacing back and forth. There was a red glow around him, like an aura of fire. "I let my guard down."

"My parents," Avalon said. "I need to let them know I'm okay."

"Do you have your cellphone?"

Avalon patted her empty pockets and her heart sank.

"We have to stay here for right now. There could be more of them," Vaughn said. He knelt beside her and put his arms around her shoulders. "Uncle Stane will find us. Right now we have to stay away from public places. That was too bold. Something's changed, they’re confident they can get away with it."

"Who? The Ladies of the Lake?" Avalon thought she might be sick again.

"Maybe. Whoever it is, they're serious, sending a dragon after you…" Vaughn pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

Avalon closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him. He was scorching hot but she was so cold that she welcomed it.
What are we going to do now?

She didn't dare ask–she couldn't imagine how it could be answered.

Chapter Nine

"Why can't we just go home?" Avalon snuggled closer to Vaughn's chest, tucking her freezing feet under his kneecaps.

It had been three days since the wyvern attack and he stayed in a semi-shifted state, skin red and rough with scales, half-formed wings protruding from his back, heat radiating from him.

They had found a shallow cave to stay in and Vaughn hunted for food while Avalon practiced her magic. Fear was a great inspiration or else Vaughn's kisses after she completed something correctly were. She was able to dramatically improve on the techniques Madame Fire had taught her.

"I've seen the wyvern a couple of times while I was hunting," Vaughn replied. "If we tried to make a break for it now, we'd be caught. I can't fight it off and fly with you at the same time."

"But what about before? Why come here instead of home?" Avalon knew she was whining, but she was tired, cold and hungry.

She missed mattresses, hot food, her parents. What would they be going through right now? Did they hear about the attack at the school? Were they desperately searching for her?

"I thought we might be followed. That's why I didn't take you home. It was a mistake. I was so concerned about not leading the wyvern to your parents that I didn't think that it probably already knows—"

Avalon shuddered. If the wyvern knew they were there, what was it doing to them right now?

"And that we'd have more defenses if we were with them," Vaughn added quickly. "Your parents are fine."

He smoothed her hair from her forehead, smiling reassuringly at her, but suddenly stiffened. There was utter stillness for a second, then Vaughn leaped to his feet and smoke curled from his nostrils. A deep, reverberating growl echoed in the cave.

Avalon scrambled up, levitating all the loose rocks and rubble she had moved into the cave the past few days. Her heart was in her throat, hands trembling.

Stane appeared in the entrance of the cave.

Avalon let out a cry of relief and started forward, but Vaughn threw his arm in front of her, glaring at his uncle.

"What's my favorite color?" he demanded.

"You had a toy bear that you named Sir Ruffian when you were a child."

Vaughn's shoulders relaxed and he nodded at Avalon. "It's him."

Avalon's brow furrowed.

"Some witches have the ability to make themselves look like other people," Stane explained, striding forward. Neither seemed to mind Vaughn's nakedness.

"Uncle Stane and I decided on a code in case something like this should happen."

"Anybody can find out what his favorite color is, but only I know to answer it with a made-up toy bear."

He smiled at Avalon, holding out his arms and she gratefully stepped into his embrace. Now that Stane was here, everything was going to be fine. Even Vaughn was relaxing.

It hit her, suddenly, that the dragon wasn't much older than she was. Even with his training, he was way out of his element here. The Ladies of the Lake weren't even supposed to exist and they had sent their wyvern after his ward!

We don't know that the Ladies of the Lake are back. It could just be a wyvern. Or anything else.

She didn't realize she was shivering again until Vaughn put an arm around her shoulders.

"Can I go home now?" she whispered.

"Yes," Vaughn said while Stane said, "No."

Avalon stared at her mother's dragon. "Why not? You're here, that wyvern that has been hanging around—"

"Isn't your only concern." Stane patted her shoulder and looked at Vaughn. "The Ladies of the Lake have returned."

"I figured, from the wyvern," Vaughn said dryly. "So they're going to try to kill the Greys, then?"

"I doubt it. That would lead to significant political blowback. The Greys are very well-liked. They want Arthur to return and wage war, not start it before they have a chance to open Albian's gates."

"How can you know?" Avalon asked, shivering madly. "They've been nothing but a myth for thousands of years, how do you know they haven't changed?"

Stane frowned. "There is no point in panicking. A calm, assertive mind and strength of will are what is needed here. I know that the Ladies of the Lake aren't after a pre-Arthur war," he paused, waiting for Avalon to crack a smile.

When she didn't, he continued. "The keys to Albian can't just be
stolen
from your family. There has to be significant political backing from powerful witching families in order for the keys to be transferred to them."

"Then why have they tried to kill me?"

"One acting alone, perhaps, or maybe they wanted to force the transfer of the keys to them by killing the last heir of Morgan le Fay. Whatever the reason, they're going a different route now. Your… worthiness to hold the keys of Albian has been officially challenged."

Avalon's eyes widened. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning you are going to have to fight a duel with your challenger."

Vaughn's arms tightened around her and a look of fiery determination came to his eyes. "How can they do that?"

"They have a girl that was descended from Morgan's son, rather than his daughter. They claim that gives them a right to hold the keys."

"Inheritance is meant to be passed from mother to daughter, not mother to son!" Anger was beginning to burn away Avalon's fear and she clenched her hands, shaking. "How dare they try to steal my birthright? They have no right—"

"They claim you aren't strong enough to defend the keys," Stane interrupted. "And you have to prove them wrong."

Avalon lifted her chin. "Where? When?"

"At the place of the final battle between Arthur and Mordred. In four days."

***

The battle of Camlann took place on a wide, flat plain. Mountains rose in the distance and everything was green and lush with early summer. While low-lying scrub brush grew around the field, it was magically kept clean of weeds and rodents.

Every year, on the anniversary of the battle–or as close to the anniversary as was possible, since exact dates had been lost to time–there were solemn reenactments on Camlann.

Avalon remembered attending them every year, her mother playing the part of Morgan le Fay, finding her brother King Arthur on the field, mortally wounded. She would cast a preservation spell over him to freeze him in time and stop him from dying before taking him to the Isle of Apples, where the goddesses of old would heal him and ready him for his return.

Avalon followed Vaughn out of the all-terrain hummer that they had been driven to Camlann in. There were already many people in attendance. Avalon recognized several powerful witching families, along with some non-magic royals and a scattering of politicians, both magical and not. A group of white-haired women waited for them on the other side of the field.

"Use your strengths," Vaughn whispered. "Use what you can do, don't worry about what you can't."

Elaine started across the field boldly. Stane stuck to her elbow and Avalon looked back once at her father, whose mouth was downturned and eyes worried before she followed her mother. Vaughn stayed close to her side, a string of muttered curses streaming from his lips. It almost made Avalon smile.

They stopped in the middle of the field.

"Bring forward the challenger!" Elaine shouted.

The white-haired women parted and a tall, dark-haired and pale-skinned woman strode towards them, a smug expression fixed on her face, accompanied by a young man. Avalon's jaw dropped.

"That's Helen and George," she whispered to Vaughn.

"He's a wyvern. Look at the way he carries himself." Vaughn snarled. "I knew I shouldn't trust him. But I didn't see he was a dragon!"

"Wyverns aren't dragons," Stane whispered. "Not true dragons, anyway. Now be quiet."

Vaughn scowled but nodded. Avalon's heart pounded in her chest and though she longed to shield herself in Vaughn's arms, she stood straight and tall with her shoulders back and chin level, like her mother. Elaine eyed Helen and George with disdain.

"It's not too late to take back your challenge, girl," Elaine said.

Helen bristled. "Your daughter is weak and unworthy to hold the keys entrusted to our lineage."

"Your lineage is through the male line, not the female. It is our right to hold the keys, not yours."

"I am a descendant of Morgan le Fay." Helen shrugged. "I am not here to debate my worth. I am here to prove it. So unless your daughter is too coward to face me, let's get this party started."