Pleasure of a Dark Prince (Immortals After Dark #9)(47)
Author: Kresley Cole

"Besides," Lucia added, "Regin and I have a history." In the past, when Lucia had gone to the Broken Bloody One’s cliff-side cave, Regin had always been there with her, a sister-at-arms.

But hunting Cruach wasn’t like hunting a hibernating bear. She and Regin didn’t go inside the cave. Instead they waited for him at the bone-strewn entrance of his lair. Right as he was about to emerge, they attacked.

The first time he’d tried to rise, he’d come forth roaring, stamping like a bull, thinking his hideousness would frighten some young Skathian assassin and foul her aim. Lucia had shot true, though afterward she’d shuddered and wept, and Regin had gone to her knees in horror, vomiting energy.

The second time, Cruach had summoned hundreds of his Cult of Death followers, his Cromites, to guard the exit and assure him safe passage out. But as Regin had battled the swordsmen back, Lucia’s arrow had found Cruach’s black heart.

This third time, Lucia had no idea what to expect, though she feared she’d be hunting the bear in his cave. Could she force herself to enter that lair once more? And all alone?

Lucia knew that MacRieve wrongly believed he was going with her. Even if they worked together to retrieve the dieumort, she could never let him near Cruach. Nor could she risk Regin getting too close.

Cruach could infect them. Lucia – as his wife – was immune….

"What are you thinking of that’s got you so pensive?" he asked, his words accompanied by distant thunder.

More steely gray clouds were building all around them. "I was just thinking that you ought to be more charitable to Regin."

"Why’s that?" he asked.

"If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t have a mate. I was sixteen the first time she saved my life. She has countless times in battles ever since."

After digesting that for a moment, MacRieve said, "Regin has no love lost for me."

"No." Had she just felt a raindrop? "But your brother probably feels the same about me."

"Maybe. Then again, I dinna shoot your sister."

Lucia studied a splinter on the rail, grumbling, "I only winged him." A mere shot through the arm.

"Lousha, look just there!" MacRieve said, taking her shoulders and turning her toward a far bank.

She spied several otters with white dappled throats – but these creatures were giant, as long as MacRieve was tall. One ravaged a catfish while others snuggled atop a log, cooing to squeaking pups.

"It’s a family of river otters. Also known as lobos del río."

Ignoring the drizzle that had just started, she asked, "River wolves?"

"Aye." When the rain intensified, MacRieve took her shoulders and turned her back to him. "Since you’re partial to wolves you should appreciate them." He reached forward to stroke the backs of his fingers across her cheek, and his golden eyes promised wicked things.

"Am I partial to wolves?" she asked, her breaths shallowing.

Just like that first night so long ago, his voice went low and rumbly as he said, "Aye, Lousha, you’re about to be."

The rain turned to a pounding deluge, lightning flashing all around them.

There was no choice but to go into a dark, sultry cabin with the most sexually attractive male she’d ever imagined, who’d immediately peel off his clothes and expect her to do the same.

 29

"That shoal jumped out o’ nowhere, eh, Travis?" MacRieve called up to the pilothouse. To Lucia, he muttered, "Is he trying to hit things?"

Travis was hung up on a sandbar again – the third time in as many days.

Lucia sighed. She and MacRieve had been enjoying a rare cloudless, and uneventful, morning together. She’d been sunning on a weathered lounge chair on the back deck while he’d unsuccessfully fished from the platform, spurred on by Izabel’s promise of seafood feasts.

Travis yelled down from the wheelhouse, "You think you could drive better, Scot?"

"Aye, even as drunk as you are, Tex!"

"MacRieve…" Lucia warned.

"Well, it’s true. He needs to lay off the spirits, or we’ll never get to our destination."

She wished Charlie was at the helm, but he was on a sleep shift. The young man drove so much better than Travis, not that Charlie would ever admit that. Izabel’s twin seemed to hero worship the irascible Texan as much as she did.

Each foul-up like this set them back even further, and she was running out of time. The nightmares were getting worse.

"Looks like I’ll have to go shove the old girl free," MacRieve said. "Again." He stripped off his shirt, leaving him in his worn and faded jeans and his cuff. Shoes were a thing of the past aboard the Contessa.

That cuff stood out against his tanned skin, a constant reminder of what he’d done for her. Whenever he embraced her, she always felt the metal against her skin, cool at first on the outside, before it warmed.

Just like last night… "MacRieve, do you have to go in?" Though the river had been a source of delight – she’d seen pink dolphins, more otters, and tapirs grazing along the shores – it’d also been one of dismay. Caimans constantly prowled and piranhas broke the surface in feeding frenzies.

Just yesterday morning, they’d seen a baby heron fall out of its nest into the water. As the mother bird had squawked in dismay, a swarm of piranhas had annihilated the chick in seconds, picking it clean with their razor-sharp teeth, right down to the bones.

"Seems you’re finally believing me about the dangers?" MacRieve said. "Relax, I’m just going in up to my waist."

"And what about the piranhas?"

"I doubt the fishies’ll snack on anything critical." He leaned in to murmur at her ear, "They only go for small prey."

"Werewolf!" she cried, still a shade surprised every time he teased her. More and more, he’d been softening toward her, his rancor over her past deeds fading. She’d see hints of the man he’d once been, the one she imagined each time she looked at his laugh lines. And when he wasn’t simmering with anger at her, she’d found he liked to play. "I’m serious."

"As am I. Will it make you feel better if I keep my jeans on?" When she gave him a grudging nod, he said, "Doona worry. They truly will no’ feed on large prey – no’ unless it’s dead."

When they saw Damiãno coming to the stern to help free the boat, she whispered, "Don’t look too strong in front of the others. And do not bow up to him again."

"He did it first," Garreth pointed out in a surly tone. Only three days had passed, and already the ship was too small for the two towering males.

"Good morning, querida." Damiãno said to her as he drew off his own shirt, revealing a muscled, brawny body.