She twitched her head from beneath his hand and turned, looking back at him from near a black hole at the corner of the slab of stone. Gareth stepped forward and peered inside. A black darker than any night. “We’re going down here to hide?”

She crouched over the edge of the pit and slapped him with her tail. When he stared blankly at her, she snorted and swept the soft end into his hand.

“You don’t mind?”

She rolled her eyes and Gareth shrugged and grasped the end of her tail. Millicent led him below with that guide, and he stumbled along behind her, through what felt like an ever-shrinking tunnel. When he felt as if the weight of the earth would surely crush them both, the passage widened, and shapes began to form to his sight. At first he thought he might be imagining it, but soon it brightened even more until he could see the faint outline of the craggy walls. Some type of glowing plant grew on them to relieve the complete darkness.

Gareth dropped Millicent’s tail. She glanced back at him and then appeared to shrug, as if to say it was his folly. And he did have the devil of a time following her after that. Her black coat melded into the darkness as if a part of it.

But she never allowed more than a few inches between the two of them, leading him around footfalls and sudden chasms. They walked long enough for Gareth to realize that she hadn’t taken him to hide. They appeared to have a destination beyond these tunnels and he felt a bit of excitement stir in his chest. In all his years of living, he’d never been to the Underground, although he’d heard of it, the stories seeming as mythical as others thought the relics to be.

Gareth tried to memorize the direction their path took, but Millicent took so many turns into branching tunnels that he finally gave up. It really didn’t matter if he got lost. He’d wind up back in the relic at dawn.

The outline of her were-form began to glow and he realized that an opening ahead caused that brightening. She stopped at the end of the tunnel and sat back on her haunches, looking over her shoulder at him. He stepped forward and stared.

Fairylights glowed above a cavern so vast he couldn’t see the other side. He’d heard tales of a group of wizards practicing black magic beneath the streets of London, but what spread out before him looked like an entire city. A river branched out into streams, separating the cavern floor into streets, the water looking like a large glistening spiderweb.

“This is where I live,” said Millicent, having shifted back to her human form, her fur transforming back into her tattered dress. Gareth nodded. She looked more comfortable and relaxed. As if she’d come home, to a place she knew as well as the back of her hand. It made him wonder anew about her life.

She headed to her left, staying near the walls of the cavern, purposely skirting the dwellings below. Openings peppered the walls and his mind whirled at the thought of how many tunnels branched from the city. Millicent suddenly stopped in front of one of those openings, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. He followed, his hand on his sword, feeling her anxiety and prepared to do battle for her again.

Gareth’s hair crackled and shivers went up his spine. He recognized the magic of a warding spell as Millicent blithely walked through it with the relic on her wrist. Of course, she was immune, and Merlin’s power surpassed that of any human’s. And since he was tied to the relic, the spell did not harm him either.

Two guards stood within the entry and Gareth had his sword free from its scabbard before the men could blink. But Millicent shook her head at him and he lowered his weapon.

“We been waitin’ fer ye,” said one of the guards, a man with a scar from eye to jaw. He gave Millicent a leering grin. “Wot’s this, ye got yerself a friend? And here I’d been hopin’ to be the first to warm those icy lips.”

“Close your mouth, Jok,” snapped Millicent, “or I’ll—”

Gareth didn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence. The edge of his blade met the ruddy skin of the guard’s throat and he stared into the man’s bloodshot eyes. “Apologize to my lady, sir, or I shall be forced to demand a duel for her honor.” His voice lowered to weariness. “And you shall lose.”

The guard sputtered. His companion slowly reached for the pistol tucked into his belt.

“Don’t,” Gareth advised the other guard with deadly calm. “I’ll have both your heads before you cock your weapon.”

Jok’s lips curled despite the sword at his throat. Then his grin slowly faded as he returned Gareth’s steady gaze. “Do as he says.” He finally said to the other guard. “The man ain’t boastin’.”

Millicent made an impatient noise of disgust. “Apologize, Jok, so we can be on our way.”

“Aye, that I will. I meant no disrespect to the lady, sir.” Gareth increased the pressure on the man’s throat. “Oh, aye. Me apologies, Millicent. Ye know I was only jestin’.”

“I know. But my friend here has an overblown sense of chivalry, I’m afraid. Not that I’d be too upset if he skewered you right now, mind you, but His Grace might not understand.” She blew out a breath. “My honor is satisfied, Sir Gareth. Please remove your weapon from the wretch’s throat.”

“As you wish, my lady. But first, Jok, you will hand me your weapon.” The man pulled it from his belt and Gareth took the pistol and tucked it into his own. He’d been dismayed when guns had been invented, making his sword skills almost obsolete, but soon had gotten familiar with them. He would have liked to own one, but it didn’t matter what he took with him when he went back into the relic. When he next appeared, he always had on what he’d been wearing when Merlin had first spelled him into the moonstone.

Gareth took a step back from Jok but did not lower his sword. “I’ll take yours as well,” he instructed the other guard, who managed to hand over his weapon without arguing.

Jok rubbed his throat while he let them pass. Gareth did not turn his back on them until the tunnel rounded and cut them off from his view.

“Worthless guards,” muttered Gareth, although he had his senses trained behind them, just in case. “They let me pass with my weapon and gave up their own.”

“My claws are just as dangerous, sir. But Ghoulston knows I’m in no position to make use of them.” Before he had a chance to ask her what she meant, she continued speaking. “Which begs me to point out your foolishness. I am in no way in need of your championing. Nor am I your lady.”

“You are as long as you wear the relic,” snapped Gareth, surprised at the possessiveness in his voice. Of all the women he’d seduced, he’d had no desire to keep any of them. Only one woman had ever made him feel that emotion, and because of her he’d lost his honor and his freedom. It worried him that he felt that way for this fierce woman when he’d yet to even bed her. And made him wonder anew if—despite her cold manner—she could be the one.

“Well, that will be remedied soon. I’m sure Ghoulston will find a way to remove this dratted bracelet.”

Gareth watched the sway of her hips. Removing the bracelet would be entirely up to her.

“I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as you,” she continued as they journeyed ever deeper into the tunnel. “Except maybe another shape-shifter. And I’ve never seen a man use a sword with such impressive skill.”

“I have been a warrior for centuries, my lady.”

“I thought you were a lover?”

He smiled at her quick wit. This one would make his time of freedom interesting. “I am both, it would seem. But not by choice.”

Again she met his eyes with that direct gaze of hers. She couldn’t be more than one-and-twenty, and yet her golden eyes bespoke of too much knowledge of the world and its people. Much in the same way that he often felt.

“You’re quick with that charming smile,” she whispered, “but it never quite reaches your eyes.”

Gareth sheathed his sword and closed the distance between them. Of all the thousands of women he’d taken to his bed, not a one of them had ever noticed such a thing about him. And he had thought her coldhearted. He took her hands and felt her tremble, an answering echo throughout his own body. “It’s a habit I’ve developed. I smile to seduce, not to reveal.” He lowered his head slightly, bringing his mouth closer to hers, surprised to discover that she stood only inches in height below him. “Have I succeeded in interesting you, my lady?”

“Millicent.”

“Ah yes, Millicent.” He stroked her name with his tongue, liking the way it sounded on his lips.

She shivered and his smile broadened.

“Bloody hell,” she said. “Sensuality flows from your very pores. It will be a miracle if I can keep you at arm’s length until dawn.”

He swept his mouth over her soft cheek. “Perhaps since the sun never rises here in your Underground, I will not fade back into my prison.”

“Perish the thought.”

Gareth told himself she had no idea what she meant. That she couldn’t conceive of the hell imprisonment had become for him. But when she twisted her hands out of his, he quickly released his hold.

Millicent began to walk down the passage at a rapid pace. “You have a remarkable gift of taking the most outlandish liberties and making them seem quite natural,” she tossed over her shoulder.

He caught up with her in a few strides. “I have a lot of practice.”

“I wager you do.”

She sounded angry. Good. Perhaps he’d finally managed to crack a bit of her hard interior… as she had managed to relieve some of his infinite boredom.

The tunnel finally widened and Gareth stared at the hulking black castle seemingly carved out of the stone wall opposite them. It lacked the defenses of a typical castle, boasting only crenellated walls and a portcullis. More palace than castle. “This is your home?”