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muscle flexed in Guinevere’s delicate jaw. “I don’t want my son thinking we trapped him. Morgana tried that, and he’s never forgiven her. I’m not going to be put into that position.”
    “Which means you’d better keep your distance.” Arthur folded his brawny arms and leaned a shoulder against the fieldstone fireplace mantel to glower. “Latents are pretty damned tempting to unbonded Magekind, and vice versa. If you get too close, you could find yourself in deep with him before you even know what hit you.”
    This was going to be a disaster—she knew it. But damned if Giada could tell Arthur Pendragon no. She sighed. “Yes, sir.”
     
     
    Ten minutes later, Giada was walking back up the cobblestone path with Smoke riding her shoulder. “I told you so,” the cat rumbled in her ear.
    Giada gritted her teeth in frustration. “Shut up.”
    Smoke sniffed. “Well, if that’s the attitude you’re going to take, I hear an azalea bush calling my name. God knows what trouble the boy’s gotten into by now.”
    A cat-sized gate opened in midair, and he leaped through it with a flick of his midnight tail. Giada sighed and opened her own gate back to the hotel.
     
     
    Weary to the bone, Giada undressed and slipped into bed. She flipped the comforter over herself, lay back, and folded her arms under her head, staring blindly up into the darkness, her mind grinding through the events of the day. When Guinevere had asked her to take this job, Giada had hoped it would turn out to be a giant waste of time—that no one was actually targeting Logan after all. Maybe all those deaths really had been some kind of horrible coincidence.
    Today had revealed what a pointless hope that had been. Logan was definitely the target of a skilled professional assassin who meant business.
    Yeeeeesh.
    With a sigh, she rolled over onto her side, snuggled into the comforter, and closed her eyes. She’d better get some sleep if she meant to stay alert.
    She was going to have to stay on her toes if she wanted to keep him alive. While, God help her, simultaneously keeping her distance.
    Piece of cake.
    Yeah. Right.

THREE
    “Mmm,” the male voice hummed in her ear, the sound as dark and rich as some particularly sinful chocolate.
    Giada lifted her head, only to realize she couldn’t see a damn thing. She lay on her belly, draped across something soft. A pile of pillows? Her hands rested across the small of her back. When she tried to pull her arms around in front of her, she found she couldn’t move. Thin chains clinked, and something cool and metallic circled her wrists.
    She was handcuffed. And, judging by the feel of silk against her face, blindfolded.
    She should have been terrifi ed. Yet all she felt was a kind of rich, erotic intrigue. As if some part of her knew exactly what was going on, and wasn’t worried in the least.
    “You smell delicious,” the man purred. She could sense the warmth of his body hovering over hers, almost touching, but not . . . quite. A strong male presence braced himself over her in the darkness. “And you look even better. All long and slim and beautiful.”
    Fingertips glided across the cheeks of her bottom, just a hint of warm contact, delicately teasing. She drew in a breath, impossibly aroused. Set her thighs the slightest bit apart in silent invitation.
    A male fi nger drifted down the curve of her butt, dipped in between her thighs, found the fi ne curls there. “So soft,” he breathed. “Like down.”
    That wickedly teasing fi nger slipped along the seam of her lips, not quite dipping between them. Yet the warmth and promise of his hand made her grow wet in swelling anticipation.
    Giada found herself arching upward, lifting her backside, pleading for more.
    Warm male lips touched her cheek. Opened. Teeth caught her flesh in a not-quite-bite, a wicked little promise of further pleasure. Giada groaned, her arousal spiraling.
    She’d never felt so deliciously helpless in all her life. Bound,