Love Bites by Angela Knight Page B

curled. “Personally, I think the bitch witch just gets off on giving us orders and watching us jump.”
    Marrok smiled reluctantly. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”
    “Now we have a chance to put a collar on her and get a little of our own back.” Cador’s mouth curled into a dark smile. “And I, for one, am looking forward to it.”
    God, so was Percival. Maybe too much. His cock ached with the stark need to do everything Cador had mentioned. Flog that delicious arse, fuck it.
    Fuck
her
.
    Unfortunately, Marrok had a point. He didn’t like the idea of Cador touching her, sadistic bastard that he was. His friend would hurt her. Carefully, with precise self-control, but he’d still hurt her. And he’d like it.
    Never mind that Percival would do the same thing. He still hated the idea of either of his friends touching that ridiculously lush, tempting body. Hearing her breathy moans. Fencing with her as she used that sarcastic, biting wit. Making her bend that stiff neck to their dominance.
    Holding her in the aftermath, listening to her breathe, to the deep thump of her slowing heartbeat . . .
    Oh, hell. Hell, no. Not Morgana le Fay.
Despite her carefully camouflaged compassion, the witch was manipulative, arrogant, and generally in desperate need of several painful lessons in humility.
    This would be nothing more than sex and revenge. He wouldn’t let it be anything else. Especially not anything that would damage his relationship with the two men he’d fight and die for. His brothers in all but blood.
    Yeah, he’d collar her. He’d get her out of his system by fucking her in every way he’d ever dreamed of in his darkest, most frustrated fantasies. He’d do everything he’d ever jerked off thinking about, no matter how humiliating it would be to her.
    He’d bring her to her knees—and make her suck his cock while she was down there. He’d even share her with his brothers and watch while they fucked her. He’d ignore his instinctive possessiveness, force himself to endure it just as he’d learned to endure the pain of sword wounds in order to win battles in Arthur’s service.
    “Are we agreed then?” he demanded.
    “No,” Marrok growled. “But that point is basically . . .” Suddenly he stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. “You know,” he said slowly, “I have no problem believing Arthur would order Morgana to offer Percival her Oath. What I have trouble with is that he’d tell her to offer it to all three of us.”
    “Oh, come on, Marrok . . .” Cador began.
    “No,
you
come on. Stop thinking with your dick and consider the implications. How much stress would sharing her put on the team?”
    Cador opened his mouth, only to immediately close it again. “You’re right,” he admitted reluctantly, grimacing as if at the taste of something foul. “We’d be fighting over who got to fuck her, how, when, and where.”
    Marrok nodded grimly. “Exactly. Would Arthur do that to us?”
    “No.” Cador shot Percival a speculative glance. “But I could easily see him ordering Morgana to offer
Percival
her Oath.”
    Fury swirled through Percival, and he curled his hands into fists. “And I could see Morgana disobeying his exact orders out of a desire to play us against each other.” He rose from the couch, aware of Cador doing the same. “Morgana?”
    She entered with that lazy, seductive stride, her expression politely enquiring. If she felt any anxiety over the outcome of their discussion, it didn’t show—but then, she’d always been a damned good actress. “Yes?”
    He stalked toward her and stopped, aware of Cador and Marrok moving up behind him to watch. “Did Arthur tell you to offer your Oath to all three of us, or just to me?”
    Her gaze flickered, but she angled her chin upward. She knew better than to lie outright to a vampire who could smell deception. “To you alone.”
    He ground his teeth. “Why did you disobey him?”
    She shrugged gracefully. “He didn’t tell