Pleasure of a Dark Prince (20 page)

“Yeah, that’s right,” the captain said. “Chuck is my right-hand man. You’ll meet him later.” Another draw from his mug. “Chuck and Izabel are new to the
Contessa
—so this trip is the last one of a long trial period. Drop me a dime if they screw up.” The captain seemed to have a cosmic inability to call Charlie anything but Chuck. “Now, some of you are already acquainted, but it’s customary on this ship to do a round of intros. Tell us who you are, what you study, and why you’re here.”

The pale man said, “I guess I’ll start”—his accent was east coast, upper crust—“I’m Benjamin Rossiter, an M.D. and professor of chemoecology at Cornell. I’ll be looking for uncataloged plants in the hope of discovering pharmaceutical uses.” Though his manner was relaxed, he had dark circles under his blue eyes and sweat had beaded above his upper lip. “We’ve only identified one percent of the medicinal plants in the basin, yet that one percent accounts for
twenty-five
percent of all our pharmaceuticals. The potential is nearly inconceivable.” He held up a palm, casting them a half grin. “And I’ll stop myself there, so I don’t make your eyes glaze over.”
The guy looks moneyed. So what’s he doing on a tub like this?

The darkly handsome man spoke next. “I’m Marcos Damiãno, head of the department of social anthropology at the University of São Paulo.”

If Lucia had suspected Izabel had some connection to the Lore, she was certain Damiãno did.

“My specialization is indigenous shamanism, and I’m here to search for uncontacted tribes.”

MacRieve still had his arms crossed over his chest. “If they’re uncontacted, do they no’ want to stay that way?”

Lucia jabbed her elbow at him, and he grunted.

Damiãno gave a tight smile that didn’t reach his vivid green eyes. “Several large oil companies are bidding on these remote territories, falsely claiming they’re unoccupied, so any tribes there will certainly be contacted regardless. My aim for this expedition is to get photos of them from a distance and prove their existence, which would halt all oil exploration on their lands.” He waved to the cowlick guy beside him. “Dr. Schecter?”

“Right, right, I’m Dr. Clarence Schecter, a zoologist from UC San Diego.” He removed his glasses, polishing them with his shirttail. “My area of study is unculled species of reptiles.”

Rossiter raised a brow. “Unculled?”

“Yes, when men hunt, they pick off the largest of the species. Over time, the pool becomes smaller. So the deeper into the jungle we get, the more chance there is of spotting larger-than-normal river specimens.”

With all their talk of
going deep
into the jungle, Lucia might not have to dump them as early as she’d thought.

MacRieve scoffed. “What do you mean ‘larger than normal?’ Normal out here is no’ exactly small.” MacRieve had said he’d hoped never to come back here. How long had he been in the basin before? And why?

The captain agreed. “I see giant animals every day. Tarantulas with meaty bodies the size of dinner plates. Foot-long scorpions. Twenty-foot-long gators. Giant otters and even catfish’ll stretch nine feet.”

“And by
gator
,” Dr. Schecter said in a patronizing tone, “I assume you mean the South American crocodilian species called the
caiman
?”

At Travis’s shrug, Schecter said, “That’s the thing. In other areas, we have fossil records of caimans reaching
forty
feet long. But they’ve been overhunted. Now, once we gain enough distance from civilization, and with the sonic baiting techniques I’ll utilize, I’ll be able to document primordial specimens.”

MacRieve coughed the word,
“Sonic”
just as Rossiter made a sound of realization.

“Megafauna,” the man said. “You’re searching for megs! If you’re a cryptozoologist, just admit it and take your ribbing.”

Cryptozoology—the study of creatures from “myth.”
They’re in a room with at least two cryptids. And they don’t even know it.

“Me? I’m not a cryptozoologist!” Schecter flushed red. “Otherwise I’d be aboard the
Barão da Borracha
.”

As Rossiter groaned, Travis’s expression turned chilling, while Izabel studied her captain’s sudden change in demeanor.

“Wait—what was that?” Lucia asked. Nïx had said,
Beware of the barão da borracha.
The Rubber Baron wasn’t a person but a ship? “Why do you say that?”

Schecter answered, “The
Barão
is filled to the bevels with cryzos. You know, cryptozoologists. Captain Malaquí takes them hunting in the jungle for ‘demons’ and ‘shape-shifters’ in backwater tributaries.” He added, “I’ve heard passengers go out with Malaquí. But sometimes… they don’t come back.”

Lucia waited for Travis to naysay that, to call it a baseless rumor. Instead he drank deep.

She asked the captain, “Is that ship close by?”

“Headed north in the opposite direction,” Travis said tightly. He added in a mumble, “As I like it.”

Izabel canted her head at Travis, and her thick black braid swept off her shoulder. The young woman clearly carried a torch for the much older, and remarkably less sober, captain.
Good luck with the male specimen you’ve got there, Izabel. P.S.: This ship has been over-culled.

“Where’re they searching for demons?” MacRieve asked. “Which tributary?”

Schecter answered, “My guide in Iquitos told me Rio Labyrinto, or some such.”

At that mention, Lucia tensed and of course MacRieve noticed. He put his callused hand on her back. It was warm against her, even through her shirt.

“That’s nothing but a hokey legend,” the captain muttered into his cup. And for a second, Lucia thought he was lying.

Schecter said, “Well, likely so. But I’d taken all that information with a grain of salt since the guide also told me that they were loading a coffin onto the ship!”

Now both Lucia and MacRieve tensed.
A vampire?
What would a leech possibly be doing out here? For some reason she thought of Lothaire. He’d been making power plays throughout the Lore for the last year—

“Your turn, Dr….” Schecter asked her, trailing off.

“What? Me? I’m Dr.
MacRieve
.” She grated out the last word, and the werewolf’s lip curled. “From LSU.”

Damn it, what would Nïx have said was her field? She glanced at Travis. “And I’m a…”

He frowned. “Paleopathologist?”

Paleo what? Damn you, Nïx!

Now Dr. Rossiter frowned. “Paleo? How will you find a fossil record in a live river basin?”

“I would love to tell you, but it’s a trade secret,” she said with a forced smile.

“At least tell us what diseases you are studying as a pathologist,” Damiãno said.

“If Dr. Rossiter feared he’d make your eyes glaze over, I could put you to sleep.”

Schecter turned to MacRieve. “And what is your field, Dr… ?”

Despite the fact that he was a prince, he answered, “
Mr.
MacRieve. I’m here in a security capacity for my wife. She’s the beauty and brains—I’m the brawn.”

She stiffened again at his calling her his wife. MacRieve had no idea how much that word bothered her.

Schecter asked, “Why exactly would anyone need security?”

“Are you jesting?” MacRieve asked. “You doona know?” He flashed an aggravated look at Travis, then said simply, “Because we’re in the bluidy Amazon.”

TWENTY-TWO

The sun had begun to set, filling Lucia with more anxiety. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d dreaded nightfall more. And she’d warred with vampires!

She repeatedly debated her options. One idea she’d ruled out? Telling MacRieve the truth. If she revealed to him precisely why they couldn’t have sex ever, much less
tonight
, he would no doubt tell her she could live without the archery—because
he
would protect her.

And if he used that reasoning with her, she thought she could hate him.

Once the meeting was over, Izabel brought in a tub of iced-down
Iquiteña
beer for “the doctors.” When she set the tub down, her blouse gaped, and Travis’s eyes were on her like a hawk. Then he scowled at the glimpse of her exposed bra. A scowl? Most men would be delighted.

With an inward shrug—who could understand the minds of
mortals
?—Lucia crossed to the salon entrance. As she reached for the knob, she noticed that the door was thick, with a security barricade that could be slammed in place. A rain forest panic room?
Interesting…

Once she walked outside, she stopped at the closest rail, nearly gasping at the oppressive heat after being in the air-conditioned room.

MacRieve snagged a bottle of beer, then followed her out, standing next to her at the railing. He held the bottle with his forefinger curled around the neck. Which was so…
male
. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, stowing his sunglasses in a pocket.

“Back to
my
cabin.”

“Happy to escort you there.” He took a swig, placing his free hand on her lower back.

Dead man walking? Try dead Valkyrie walking.
Every step closer was grueling. She was breathless, filled with trepidation.
Why
hadn’t she been able to deny him in the past? Part of her whispered,
It’s not him you can’t deny—it’s yourself.

She was going to have to strike against him yet again. But how? How to get her bow?
And then get him off the boat?

Silence reigned between MacRieve and her, while all around them the rain forest was awakening. Frogs croaked, building to a deafening crescendo before dwindling to silence, then building once more. Insects whirred and chirped, howler monkeys screeching.

MacRieve took another swig of beer. “Never met so many scientists who needed to get laid.”

Unable to help herself, she asked, “What are you talking about?”

He stopped, leaning in, forcing her back to the wall. He rested his free hand against it over her head. “Looks like we’re going deep. Gotta get
deep
up the river. Really penetrate the virgin bush, over and over again, till we achieve our mutual aims.”

When he grinned, she stared at his lips. Then at his eyes, at those laugh lines. As ever, she was captivated by this big, brawny male and curious about his past. Just from looking at him, she could tell he’d been in the sun laughing in the days before he’d been frozen forever into his immortality.

Another swig. Was he waiting to finish his beer before bringing her to the cabin, or just enjoying the sunset? “Those docs got more bollocks than sense. They have no idea how dicey it is out here.”

“How do you know so much about the Amazon?”

“Unfortunately, I’m verra familiar with the Green Hell.” He appeared to have mellowed somewhat, though he still seemed preoccupied. “When the clan wanted to leave Scotland, the Amazon basin was one of the proposed settlement options. Lots of room to run, and no humans for thousands of miles in some areas. It sounded perfect.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“I got down here and learned that the Amazon can even kill immortals. She does no’ care which lives she takes and is strong enough to pluck any she chooses.” He met her gaze. “It can be lethal—even for us.” His brows drew together, as if at some memory.

Had he lost a loved one? Or a lover? A flare of jealousy startled her. Had he kissed another under this very sky? Her gaze fell to his lips.

“You’re doing it again, Lousha.”

“What?”

“Looking like you want me to kiss you.”

She flushed. Was she
that
transparent? “Dream on, werewolf.”

“I do, constantly.”

Hastily returning to the subject, she asked, “Did you lose someone in your party down here?”

“Nay, I came alone.” At her questioning glance, he said, “A type of penance, I guess. It’s a moot point now….” He trailed off, his gaze leaving her face to scan the river. His body tensed around hers, his face hardened, and his irises flickered pale blue.

He stared out with pure malevolence, as if he’d not only kill something for threatening her—he’d make it hurt. Not for the first time, she thought,
Gods help any being that means me harm.

He asked, “You get the feeling we’re being watched?”

She did. She’d thought it would fade now that MacRieve was on board with her, but she was definitely sensing an oppressive presence nearby.

He turned back to her, studied her face, and said, “Aye, me too. You know of anyone who’d be trailing you?”

Cruach had followers in his Cult of Death who would do anything to stop her, but they were usually human and easy enough to lose. “Actually, yes,” she answered softly, and MacRieve leaned in with interest. “This jackass Lykae who can’t take no for an answer is stalking me.”

He drew back with narrowed eyes. “Maybe if he ever truly heard a ‘no’ coming from the female he was stalking, he’d give her up.”

With that, he began leading her back toward the cabin. “So you want to tell me why you tensed when the Rio Labyrinto was mentioned? And unless I missed my mark, the mention of the
Barão da Borracha
and Captain Malaquí dinna coax a smile from you either.”