Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night (Immortals After Dark #4)(9)
Author: Kresley Cole

There could be no worse timing to lose his strength than in the Hie.

When the prize would bring back his Mariah.

For one hundred and eighty years, since the night he’d found her – with her thin body gored and her green cloak spread out in the blood-soaked snow – he’d searched relentlessly for a way to resurrect her.

Lingering on in a kind of half life, not dying but not really living, he’d continued to believe he could bring her back to him, when most Lykae would have found a way to die if they’d lost their mates. Others in his clan thought him mad, wondering why he continued to exist in that miserable twilight. Even his cousins, Lachlain and Garreth, who were like brothers to him, couldn’t understand him.

But he would show them all, because after searching so long, a mad Valkyrie soothsayer, of all people, had alerted him to this competition – and had told him it was the means of reaching his mate. Desperate to try anything, he’d entered. When he’d learned the ultimate prize of the Hie was a key to go back in time, everything had made sense.

Bowe hadn’t foolishly been hoping for something that could never be. The chance to bring Mariah back was within his grasp, and he’d fought mercilessly for that key.

Yet so had his two main competitors: the Valkyrie Kaderin the Coldhearted and Sebastian Wroth, a vampire soldier. Just two nights ago in a minefield in Cambodia, they’d forced Bowe into an explosion that had threaded a rusted length of shrapnel between his ribs and had blown away his left eye and part of his forehead.

Because of the witch’s curse, those gruesome injuries remained.

Now, half blind and weak beyond measure, Bowe was only confident of winning because just two competitors vied in this last round, and the other finalist was Kaderin. Yes, the Valkyrie was a single-minded competitor, but in the end she was still a female.

He slowed, struggling to detect if she was already here. During this final part of the Hie, killing was allowed. On this night, would Bowe kill a female to bring Mariah back? He had no doubts that if given the chance, the Valkyrie would take her assassin’s sword and slice him crotch to collar without blinking her cold, emotionless eyes.

One thing Bowe did know was that if he lost, he would definitely kill the witch for weakening him so much.

A roar sounded deeper in the earth, and the cavern quaked, sending rock and dust falling over him. The Fyre Dragán – rumored to be a serpentlike beast, as large as a basilisk but with a body of fire – must be sensing Bowe’s trespass.

This place was known in the Lore as where immortals go to die. Most immortals could die only by beheading – an unwieldy suicide option – or by total immolation in a pit of otherworldly heat like this. Yet in the ages that had passed, the location of this place had become virtually lost in the Lore. Until now…

Chapter 4

Another roar, another violent shake. Boulders began to rain down from the cavern ceiling. As he loped on, dodging them, the injury in his side screamed in protest. But the pain in his body was forgotten as he imagined what he’d do after reuniting with Mariah.

Together, they would start a new life, and he would spoil her with all the wealth he’d accumulated. They could live at his grand estate in Scotland or at the Lykae compound in Louisiana. The clan’s property there was vast with miles of swamps and forests to run. There was a central, main lodge for gatherings, and then separate, large hunting cabins were spread throughout.

Louisiana intrigued Bowe. Lazy fans always seemed to be overhead. Unusual food scents and the strains of music continually carried on the breeze. Surely Mariah would love it as he did.

And when he had her back with him, he would seduce away her fears of him so he could finally claim her, at last having her completely.

Gods, he needed her beneath him. Since that night in the jungle tomb, his long-neglected desires had come blazing to life. Even with his body battered, each day he’d needed to take relief from the throbbing ache in his shaft.

Though it shamed him, his mind would wander to the witch as he stroked himself in bed. His usual fantasies of laying Mariah down and gently claiming her were replaced by ones of Mariketa, even though her glamour made memories of her hazy.

He could recall being so damned pleased and aroused by the witch’s body but not remembering why. More clearly, he recalled the small tattoo on her lower back – he’d imagined rubbing his face against that mark. Even the remembered feel of the back of her leg against his palm could put him into a lather; he would shudder at mere thoughts of her soft, giving thigh under his thumb claw.

Fantasizing about tasting the wet flesh he’d cupped would make him spend so hard his eyes rolled back in his head.

Once he’d taken his release, a bitter shame would set in. But each night, shame turned to determination to win.

When the tunnel opened up into a soaring cavern chamber, filled with smoke and wafting ash, Bowe hurried inside – and spotted Sebastian Wroth at the edge of a pit of lava, his arm trapped under a huge boulder.

The vampire? When Kaderin should be here tonight?

"What’s happened here?"

"A quake… rocks," Wroth grated with difficulty.

"Where’s the Valkyrie? She ought to be here, not you."

"I’m here in her stead."

Bowe had suspected that Wroth was newly turned – relatively – but now he knew it. An older, more powerful vampire could have traced out from under the rock.

"You can’t reach the prize," the vampire told him in his accented English. "It’s on the other side of the pit… and the cable across it snapped."

Bowe surveyed the area and saw the coiled remains of a thin cable hanging loose from the opposite wall. He had rope in his truck but couldn’t spy a single place in the sheer rock face to lash it to. Besides, the truck was aboveground several miles away, and with every minute that passed, the curse was siphoning off more of his strength.

He knew the vampire could trace them across with a blink of his eye, but to free him would be a great risk. Yet, though Bowe was weak, Wroth looked much more so. And Wroth didn’t want the prize as badly as Bowe – he used this contest only to win over Kaderin.

The vampire was pale as death, blood pooling all around him. If Bowe left him to gear up to cross the pit on his own and failed, would Wroth even be conscious when he returned?

Decided. "I could free you to trace me across. Then, an open contest to take it."

"I could double-cross you."

Bowe narrowed his one eye. "No’ if I’ve got ahold of your good arm."

After a hesitation, the vampire said, "Do it."

Bowe crossed to the boulder and shoved at it. Though he was constantly reminded of how weak he’d grown, he was still confounded to be unable to move a single boulder. He muttered, "Bloody, goddamned witches." Putting his back into it, he asked, "Where exactly are you tracing us?"