The Night Everything Fell Apart (The Nephilim Book 1)(14)

“Snatches. Bits and pieces. Nothing makes sense.”

“Anything about Merlin? About his staff?”

“Not as far as I can tell.”

Merlin’s staff was legendary. It was said the sorcerer had fashioned it from several different types of wood, all twisted together. He’d placed his touchstone, a crystal orb, at the staff’s apex. It was possible the staff was nothing but a myth, or, if it had existed, that it had been destroyed. But Arthur’s father, Tristan, had believed the staff was real and still whole, lying beside Merlin’s bones in the cave where he met his end.

The trouble was, Nephil and human legends put the sorcerer in many different locations at the end of his life. Half a dozen Merlin “gravesites” were scattered across France and Britain. Tristan had visited them all during his lifetime, often with his young son at his side. He’d discovered nothing.

Arthur dragged his palm down his face, then didn’t seem to know what to do with his hand. He clenched his fingers into a fist. “If only I could remember Merlin’s final days, I’d know where to go next. I can’t go running around half-assed, without any direction at all.”

“It’ll come,” she said again. “You just need time.”

“Time we don’t have. Damn it. Mab has every advantage. I’ve got nothing.”

“That’s not true. Mab didn’t survive her Ordeal alone. Only you and Merlin have done that.”

“I’m hardly Merlin.”

“No. But once you remember—”

“Damn it, Cybele, don’t you think I’ve been trying?” He spun about and slammed his fist into the counter. “Will you please get off my fucking back?”

She sucked in a breath. She and Arthur were no strangers to bickering, it was true. Sometimes she thought they fought more than they got along. But the Arthur she knew didn’t snap and curse. Didn’t look at her as if she were poison.

He dropped into a chair. Leaning his elbows on the table, he pressed his clasped hands to his forehead. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Two apologies in one day.” Cybele tried to keep her voice light, but it just came out shaky. “What’s next? The end of the world?”

He glanced at her. “I’m a mess.”

She sat down beside him. “You’ll pull out of it.”

He lowered his hands to the table. “I sure as hell hope so. How much more of this can I take? My brain is chaos. There’s nothing in there to hold on to.”

She covered his hands with her own. “Hold onto me, then.”

With a sudden movement, he turned and drew her into an awkward hug. She went down on her knees before him. He buried his face in her neck.

“I held onto you during my Ordeal,” he said. She felt his tears, hot on her skin. “You were my anchor, my guide. You kept me sane.”

“Oh, Arthur.” She threaded her fingers though his hair, her thumb stroking his cheek. He looked up and their eyes met.

She felt a tugging sensation in the vicinity of her heart, drawing her to him. To safety and, at the same time, to turmoil and danger. It had always been this way. Arthur was a magnet to her iron. She’d long since stopped wondering why.

She kissed him. Their lips brushed and clung. But only for a moment. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, easing her back. When she made a sound of protest, he pressed his forehead to hers and sighed.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said. “Thank you for knowing where to look.”

“I always will,” she murmured.

He kissed her again, open-mouthed and hard this time. She melted into his arms. His palms slid down to her buttocks, urging her up off her knees. She straddled him awkwardly. He scraped the chair away from the table to accommodate her. She pressed her lips to his neck and licked the sweat from his skin. He cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumbs. His cock, straining against his jeans, prodded the inside of her thigh. She caught her breath on a hot roll of desire and opened her legs wider.

His hips came up off the chair. They both groaned. Cybele grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked. He nipped the side of her neck. She spread her palm on his stomach. His muscles contracted under her hand. Her fingers dipped lower, past the waistband of his jeans, her nails barely scraping the tip of his engorged penis.

His entire body jerked. Breath hissed through his teeth. She smiled and concentrated on slipping the button.

He caught her hands. “Not here. Bedroom.”

“Yes.”

She swung her leg over his lap. He surged to his feet. Their limbs tangled. Arthur went down hard on one knee, while Cybele pitched forward, landing with her stomach across his thigh. She flung a hand out to stop her fall. Her palm slapped the ground.

“Ow!” She scrambled to her feet. “Dang it, that hurts.”

Arthur stood and reached out to her. “What’s wrong?”

She blew out a breath and showed him her hand. “Looks like you missed some of the window glass.”

A jagged shard protruded from the fleshy mound at the base of her thumb. She grasped it with her opposite thumb and forefinger and yanked it out. Blood oozed rapidly from the cut, trickling in a narrow stream across her palm. “Damn. Its deeper than I thought. Get me a rag or something, will you?”