Anna swallowed her snappish retort. As much as she longed to blame Cezar for this craziness that was now her life, she had to concede that it wasn’t entirely fair.
Whatever had happened between them in the past, there was no mistaking that he had done everything in his power to protect her over the past twenty-four hours.
Whether it was out of a desire to crawl back into her bed or out of genuine concern still remained a question.
“I’ve seen death before, Cezar,” she said in a quiet voice. “And I need…I need to see if I can help Levet. I need to do something, not just wait around for that woman to rip out my heart.”
His brows snapped together. “That was just a dream…”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Cezar, partners don’t lie to one another. We both know that wasn’t just another dream.”
Chapter 7
Cezar growled deep in his throat. He’d never been good at compromise. Especially when it came to females.
He saw, he took, he conquered.
End of story.
Now he was forced to battle his natural instincts as Anna regarded him with those huge, hazel eyes that could melt the damn Arctic. Dios. Global warming had nothing on this woman.
He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and return her to that soft bed where he could distract her with his fierce, driving hunger. He wanted her soft and willing beneath his body, a satisfied smile curving her lips as he thrust her to a mindless orgasm.
Instead he could do nothing more than jerk her close to his body, his head lowering to claim her lips in a frustrated kiss.
“You do know you’re going to drive me stark, raving mad?” he whispered against her mouth, demanding another hungry kiss before lifting his head. “Let’s get this over with.”
She appeared momentarily dazed, her hands lifting to touch her lips. Then, with a shake of her head, she was tilting her chin and forcing her feet to carry her into the cell.
Cezar was a half step behind her.
Unlike the dirt tunnels, the cell was lined with heavy lead that was etched with scrolling symbols that looked faintly like hieroglyphics. The room had been hexed by an imp to dampen any magic.
In the corner of the small cell was a cot where the once beautiful Sybil Taylor rested in silent peace.
Ignoring the gargoyle who was circling the cell, his eyes closed as he used his senses to detect any lingering spells. Anna moved to stare down at the fairy.
“She looks so peaceful,” she breathed. “Almost like she’s sleeping.”
Cezar moved to her side with a faint grimace. “I can’t detect magic, but I do know the scent of death.”
“Oui, she’s dead,” Levet offered.
“The question is how?” Cezar growled.
Levet opened his eyes, a faintly puzzled expression on his ugly face. “I smell…pomegranates.”
“Pomegranates?” Anna lifted her head, her face pale and her eyes dark with a strange, powerful emotion. “Sybil always smelled of apples.”
Levet’s wings gave a small flutter. “Fey magic. I don’t know how, but whoever did this was very powerful.”
“It was the woman from my dream,” Anna said slowly, licking her dry lips. “I smelled pomegranates when she looked at me.”
“What dream?” Styx demanded from the doorway.
There was a short, tense silence as every eye turned toward Anna. Cezar paused, inwardly cursing. This was not how he wanted to tell Anna what he suspected.
“It was a dream of Morgana,” Cezar at last said, his tone flat and his gaze on Anna’s fragile features.
“Morgana le Fay?” Styx demanded.
Cezar gave a reluctant nod as Anna’s eyes widened and her mouth parted in shock.
“Morgana-freaking-le-Fay?” she demanded, her voice edged with growing panic. “The sister of King Arthur? Knights? Dragons? Round tables?” She gave a wild shake of her head. “No. Way.”
Moving slow enough that Anna could track his movements, Cezar reached out to take her hands in his. Her skin was cold and clammy, revealing the depth of her shock.
“Give us a moment,” he commanded, gently pulling Anna away from the dead body and urging her into a wooden chair set in the corner.
Once the cell was cleared of demons, he squatted in front of Anna and gave her hands a squeeze.
“Anna,” he said softly. “Querida, please look at me.”
An eternity seemed to pass before the long sweep of her lashes slowly lifted to reveal her dazed, frighteningly vulnerable eyes.
“Are you going to tell me that I’ve been Punk’d?” she said, her voice so thick it made his heart contract in pain.
He gave a shake of his head. “Punk’d?”
“You know, reveal that this is all some huge joke?”
He lifted her fingers to his lips. “I can tell you that if that’s what you want.”
She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “No, I want the truth. Tell me about this…Morgana le Fay.”
“She’s the Queen of the Fairies, although little is known of her. Since Arthur’s death she has hidden in her fortress upon Avalon.” He kept his voice cool, indifferent. It was that or growl with fury at the mere mention of the fairy queen.
“If Morgana is really after me, what does she want?” She shuddered. “Besides my heart.”
“I don’t know yet.” He paused and then cursed beneath his breath. Hell, he might as well get it over with. “I think you might be related to her.”
She jerked as if he had physically struck her. “Related to Morgana le Fay?”
“Si.”
“God.” She gave a short, humorless laugh. “Over the years I came up with a number of wacky explanations of why I was so different, but this was never one of them.”
“You preferred to believe that I was responsible?”
“Yeah.” A faint heat brushed her too pale skin. “I suppose I did.”
“And now?” he prompted.
“Now I don’t know what to think.”
Hardly a rousing vote of confidence. More like a grudging, gun-to-the-temple sort of vote.
“Anna, I would never hurt you. That night…” He bit off his impatient words as he realized that now was not the time.
“What?”
With a smooth motion he rose to his feet and began pacing the cell. Suddenly it seemed way too small. And way too filled with Anna’s sweet, fruity scent.
“There’s more,” he said abruptly. “I think that Morgana was the ‘cousin’ you lived with in London. I believe she burned down your townhouse, killing your aunt and assuming that she killed you as well.”