Pleasure of a Dark Prince (15 page)

“And you can’t have sex. So what’re we going to do?”

Since I also can’t seem to deny him…
“I’m going to get out of town.”

“Where’re we headed?” Regin asked. When Lucia didn’t answer, she said, “Like I’m letting you go out into the world by yourself to let life kick you in the ass. We’re
both
getting our asses kicked or not at all! We’re a team, Bonnie and Bonnie, together forever.”

Lucia’s lips quirked. No one could have a better friend than Regin. “We start the hunt for a dieumort.” She stood and turned back inside the compound, striding for Garreth’s quarters. “Pack a bag for me— I’ll be back in an hour. For now, I’m going to act out, demonstrate that some Valkyrie aren’t house-trained either.”

“Ooh, break something for me!”

Inside his rooms, Lucia kicked an expensive-looking lamp, sending it crashing to the floor. “Any other requests?”

“Yeah, since matehood means you own fifty percent of all his swag, then bring me home any vinyl LPs you may come across, some weapons, and of course, anything shiny.”

“On it.”

“MacRieve’ll follow us.”

Yes, but Lucia would protect herself, do whatever she had to do. She had no choice. “Then let the games begin.”

Lachlain MacRieve and his brother stood outside on the grounds of Val Hall, drinking a couple of rounds of longnecks before Garreth’s imminent departure.

“You sure you canna stay?” Lachlain was loath to see his brother go. He’d been so panicked about Emma that he’d barely registered the time he’d spent jailed with Garreth.

“I need to follow Lousha.”

Unfortunately, Lucia the Huntress had disappeared. Lachlain had heard she’d “gone on vacay” with her “partner in crime” Regin. The new lingo of this time still stumped him, but he’d gleaned enough to know that Garreth had been right about his mate: Lucia was indeed a runner.

“Aye, o’ course you must go after her. But maybe you could leave after my wedding?” Lachlain was to marry Emma tomorrow. Though the Lykae considered mate-hood eternal—marriage was a bit superfluous—the Valkyrie insisted on some kind of binding ceremony. Or as Annika had choked out, “Something a little more respectable—than a
bite
.”

More important, my lass is excited about it.
In less than twenty-four hours, he’d take his sweet Emma as his wife. Those hours couldn’t pass soon enough for him.

“I canna.” Garreth took a swig. “No’ unless you need me. To help you… acclimate.” His expression darkened.

Though Garreth had been utterly accepting of Emma’s vampiric nature—even the fact that Lachlain himself fed her and relished doing so—he hadn’t taken the news of Lachlain’s decades-long imprisonment and torture well. And Lachlain had downplayed the worst of it.

“No, I can manage,” he said. “Especially now with the vampire threat lessened.” His wee Emma had some-how slain Demestriu, and Lachlain himself had killed Ivo the Cruel.

Garreth said, “Lessened but no’ gone.”

Lothaire still lived. There was something about that vampire, something that tugged at Lachlain’s subconscious. A threat even greater than it appeared on the surface… “When you return, we’ll strategize what to do about the Enemy of Old.”

“Aye,” Garreth agreed. “For now, you need to concentrate on your queen. And hup two with the bairns, old man. Tired of being your heir.”

Lachlain drank deeply. “Doona hold your breath. You saw how delicate she is—will no’ relish the idea of getting a babe on her.”

“Delicate?” Garreth raised his brows. “The rest of the Lore, and especially the Lykae, see her as a fierce warrior queen who slew the Horde king. And you still see her as delicate.”

Lachlain scowled. “First impressions are lasting. In any case, doona be concerning yourself with this—you’ve enough on your plate. Do you know what spooked your female in the first place?”

“Oh, aye. She found out she was my mate, though I’d lied about it.”

Lachlain rubbed the back of his neck. He’d done just the same with Emma. Mates that were
other
didn’t often find the news welcome. “How’d she find out?”

“I’d made the twins vow no’ to tell anyone about her. But when they thought they were about to war with the Valkyrie to retrieve me and cover your incursion, they gave an order that Lousha could no’ be hurt. Upon pain of death, she was to be spared. I appreciated the foresight, but the clan quickly figured it out.”

“Where do you think she is?”

Garreth said, “I have some leads.”

“Nïx?”

“Aye.”

Nucking Futs Nïx. Lachlain owed everything to that soothsayer. She was the one who’d coaxed Emma to go to Paris in the first place. If Emma hadn’t been there, then Lachlain never would’ve had the strength to escape the vampires—who’d imprisoned and tortured him for over a century….

Tamping down those memories, Lachlain said, “Before you go, I wanted to pass on some advice. Emma told me that to win your mate, you have to accept Regin. The two are thick as thieves. Always have been. Since they were children.”

“So calling Regin a glowing bluidy freak dinna help my cause? On top of the lie? Christ, I’ve bollixed this up.”

“But you said she’s no’ immune to you. You can win her.”

With a firm nod, Garreth said, “Aye, then, I will. I’m off.” He hugged Lachlain, clapping him on the back. “It’s good to have you back, brother.”

When they finally broke apart, Lachlain was choked up, clearing his throat. “Right, then.”

Garreth stared down at his beer, muttering, “Got something in my eye.” Turning to go, he said, “Take care of our queen.”

“You just be careful.” The two brothers had always been protective of each other, so Lachlain was uneasy that Garreth had no one to watch his back. “And stay out of trouble.” Garreth was a hell of a fighter, but on occasion, he needed a wingman.

Over his shoulder, Garreth said, “Doona worry. Mark my words, I’ll have her back in two weeks.”

SEVENTEEN

One year later, the Northlands
Possibly the mountains of Thrymheim Hold,
but probably not

Is this a bad time?” Nïx asked cheerily.

“You are fully aware that this is a damned bad time,” Lucia said. “Currently I’m suspended from a mountain ledge, four thousand feet in the air.” She hung on to a rock cleft with the tips of her fingers—of one hand. The other she’d used to click on her sat-phone earpiece.

Sometimes Lucia wished satellite phones
didn’t
work everywhere on earth.

“You sound awful,” Nïx observed. “Have you been taking your Flintstones?”

Lucia’s muscles burned. She hadn’t slept in days.
The games
, it seemed, would not
end
. And Lucia was in a grueling fourth-quarter situation—with a team mate lost. “Nïx, did you call for a reason?”

“Are you any closer to finding Thrymheim?”

Lucia had relinquished her lofty goal of locating a dieumort and killing Cruach—now she’d be satisfied if she could merely keep him jailed for another five hundred years.

She needed Skathi, or more accurately, she needed one of Skathi’s arrows, but Lucia couldn’t even locate the goddess. “If it’s not at the top of this peak, then this range is a bust.”

Lucia had been so sure this was Godsbellow Mountain. Now she grew increasingly doubtful. She vaguely remembered an ever-ascending path to the peak. She could find no path. So she was climbing. “Don’t suppose you’ll finally tell me where the temple is?”

“I thought if a Skathian was pure of heart, she could always find her way back to the goddess.”

Pure of heart?
Not in the least.
Though Lucia and MacRieve had never shared more than those two nights together, she couldn’t stop thinking about him, lusting for him. Whenever she touched herself, it was his body she fantasized about. “I’ll find my way back, Nïx. One way or another.”
Push on, Lucia!
What choice did she have? She leapt for another handhold.

“Well, actually, that’s why I’m calling. Now, I know your to-do list is varied and important. Finding Skathi, preparing for your five-hundred-yearly confrontation with the revolting Cruach, the epitome of pure evil, et cetera.”

Speak of the devil—literally.
Though the Broken Bloody One was a hideous abomination, he could disguise himself with a face so beautiful…
it made me weep.

The modern idea of Satan originated from him.

He was the being she would be forced to confront. And soon. She always knew when…. That night so long ago when she’d been about to depart Thrymheim as a new Skathian, Lucia had asked the goddess, “What do you want me to do?”

“Just before he rises, you’ll go to his lair, and shoot him in the heart with the arrow I’ve given you. Every five hundred years, I’ll provide you with another.”

Return to his lair? Never.
“How will I know when Cruach will rise?”
So I’ll know when to run.

Skathi’s face had been impassive. “When the nightmares begin.”

The first time Cruach had risen under Lucia’s watch, she’d been plagued by nightly visions so harrowing, she’d been driven to face her worst fear.

Now, just as before, her nightmares were becoming more frequent, more punishing, which meant time was running out….

“Yeah, Nïx, I’m a little swamped right now.”

“And on top of everything you have to evade your Lykae.”

“I’m not evading him.”
I’m totally evading him.
“And he’s not
my
Lykae.” Had those two passionate interludes been enough to blind Lucia to the sanctuary at Thrymheim? No, no way—she still had her abilities.

“After all you’ve done to MacRieve, I’d be running, too.”

And all I continue doing to him.
His pursuit had been relentless, so she’d protected herself—and her chastity—often in ruthless ways.

But she’d never shot
him
, not since their initial meeting. She knew he wouldn’t even try to dodge the arrow for fear of what it’d do to her.

Nïx said, “Regin bragged to the entire coven that you two had him trapped in a river canyon in logging country with an eighteen-wheeler full of trees parked on the rise above him. You shot the fastenings with arrows and a pile of logs rolled over him.” Nïx chuckled. “If that wasn’t enough, you and Regin then threw the eighteen-wheeler on top of him!”

It was all true. He’d been nipping at their heels for days. “Just tell me how Reege’s doing.” Since Lucia had been forced to leave her behind—after only their first four weeks on the lam.

“Badly. She’s acting out, getting high, picking fights with beings bigger than she is. She’s furious that you ‘abandoned’ her ‘like last year’s wardrobe.’ Especially when she was sleeping off an intoxispell hangover.”

Lucia had the text messages from screen name
Reg-Rad
to prove all of the above. Months of emotional rollercoaster-y texts.

Nïx continued, “She teamed up briefly with Kaderin the Coldhearted for the Talisman’s Hie, but Kad booted her. I’ve been assigning her busy work, inviting old nemeses to New Orleans to try to kill her and such. But nothing keeps her down. She
has
been taking her Flint-stones, incidentally. We all eagerly await the time when you can
finally
return to deal with her.”

Lucia climbed higher, leaping for a taunting overhang.
Got it.
“You know why I’ve been forced to travel all over the world.” For months, Lucia had dreamed of a dieumort arrow, envisioning a gold and flawless one like Skathi’s—but imbued with the Banemen’s power, the one-time power to kill a nightmare incarnate. She’d failed to locate it.

And now that she’d decided to settle for one of Skathi’s arrows, had planned to return and grovel to the goddess, Lucia couldn’t locate her either.

She was running out of time, and every step of the way MacRieve had hunted her, no matter how far-flung her destinations had become. She also suspected he’d been protecting her. Even now. Even after all she’d done to him.

She’d seen him in a village in the Northlands just two nights ago. What would he do to her if he caught her? She wondered this
constantly
.

“Nïx, is this why you called? About Regin?” Lucia asked. “I can try to talk to her.”

“Actually, I called because there’s this pesky little apocalypse brewing. I need your help.”

Sweat dripped into Lucia’s eyes. She irritably wiped it away, gazing up at the peak above her with yearning.
Deep down, you know it isn’t Thrymheim, Lucia.
“Why me?” There were dozens of other Valkyrie as strong as or stronger than Lucia. “Why not Cara or Annika?”

Nïx answered, “You’re the Valkyrie’s greatest hunter.”

“Yes, I
know
this,” Lucia said, immodest as ever. “But what’s the mission?”

“What’s
what
mission?” Nïx said softly, then with growing enthusiasm, “Am I to go on a mission?”

“Nïx, the apocalypse! Come on, snap out of it!”

Silence for a long moment. “Oh, I remember,” she sniffed huffily, as if Lucia had broken her sunshine. “Yes, I have all your deets right here—where you need to be and what you need to do. All the specifics already foreseen. Basically you have to be on a particular boat in the Amazon jungle by three sharp tomorrow afternoon.”