Guinevere Forever (Lost Camelot Book 1) by M.L. Bullock

Author:M.L. Bullock [Bullock, M.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2017-12-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten—Luke Ryan

My mind said, “Get up, it’s after seven,” but my hangover argued that idea down. Two days in a row I had tied one on, but it was clear that this wasn’t a viable solution to my problems. Despite McAllister’s warning, I answered the phone when Pint called and told him about the meeting. He offered to speak up for me, but I told him not to bother. Cavanaugh wanted me gone, and that was that. I called Michelle a few times, but she didn’t answer. I’d bet money her clothes were gone from the closet. I took the sound of the front door slamming as evidence that she had been here but was unable to rouse me. She never did have patience for me and my all-nighters. A few seconds later, I fell back to sleep, but it wasn’t the blackout sleep I’d hoped for. It was something else.

Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

The sound—rhythmic, heavy, metal on metal—echoed in my ears. My skin tingled, and my heart banged in my chest. I experienced a major adrenaline rush but could not understand why or how. To calm myself, I took in air with my nose and forced it out my mouth. The air was so cold, it shocked my skin and excited me.

Tap, tap, tap.

This was the sound of strength, the sound of men preparing for battle. They collectively banged their sword hilts on their shields, a sound I had forgotten until I heard it again. A wet fog brushed my face and bare arms. I yelled in anger at the invisible enemy who lurked in the mist. Clutched in my hand was a sword—no, the sword of swords. My sword!

Usurper! The sword is mine… a threatening whisper mocked me, but I could not discern where it came from.

I growled in frustration, “Come out and face me! How dare you accuse me!”

Usurper…

Anger gripped me at the accusation. It was a familiar wound. Charging into the grayness, I spun and searched for my elusive enemy. The sound of swords crashing, the grunting and screaming of men in the throes of combat and the cries of the injured surrounded me. Yes, this was a field of death. I could feel myself sinking into the mud beneath me, and I swung the sword and shifted my stance to stabilize myself.

Usurper!

“Say that to my face! Stop hiding and fight me!”

Laughter filled my ears. It was light, feminine laughter but certainly not friendly. The laughter faded and became a growl.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “Speak now!” The sword vibrated in my hand as if warning me of the danger. Whoever this was, whoever challenged me, was approaching.

“Usurper, yield the sword to me and you will live. All your men will live. Let us end this now.”

“Why should I give you what is mine? If you want the sword, come and take it,” I yelled in the direction of the voice.

“Very well. I shall.” As she stepped out of the mists, I beheld

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