Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night iad-4

by Kresley Cole

  "How did you get him to let you go?"

  "Why?" she asked, feeling herself softening even more toward MacRieve. "Do you think he had a hard time of it?"

  MacRieve gave her an impatient scowl as if her question was ridiculous. And for the second time, Mari thought, I might be in over my head with this male.

  But I'm thinking I like it.

  "How long were you with him?"

  She shrugged. "Almost seven years."

  "That's nearly a third of your life!" he thundered. "Christ, I doona care for that. Did you... did you love him, then?"

  "Yes," she answered honestly.

  His voice broke lower when he asked, "Do you love him still?"

  Over her shoulder, she said, "I guess a part of my heart will always be his."

  When she realized MacRieve had stopped, she turned. She found his jaw clenched, his irises turning ice blue once more, and his claws shooting longer and darker. She was witnessing more of the beast even than before.

  Mari swallowed, again reminded that this was an adult Lykae male. And one who thought she was the mate he'd ached for over centuries. She was playing with fire. No more teasing, no more toying with the sex-starved werewolf. "Just forget I said anything—"

  He pressed her against a tree, out of sight of the others. "I want to stab my claws into this demon's neck and rip out his goddamned spine."

  "MacRieve, just wait... "

  His hand shot out, covering the back of her head. He leaned down to her ear. "Tonight, I'm going tae make you mine, Mariketa." His accent was thick, his voice rough, as if even his vocal chords were altered as he began to turn. "This other male might have part of your heart, but I will possess all of your body." He ran his other hand from her neck down to her breasts, cupping them both in turn. Under his hot, rough palm her nipples were still throbbing—just as he'd promised. "Mark my words, I will claim you so thoroughly you will no' recall any other."

  Intensity... Gazing up at him, she felt so small and vulnerable and recognized that she should be afraid. Instead she was aroused once more—from his deep voice, from his hand fondling her, from the idea of his taking her hard, possibly within hours.

  "After this night, you'll arch tae my touch and crave my kiss. When the heat is upon you, every inch of your body will recognize mine as its master."

  She gave a shaky breath, shocked—and yes, excited—by his words and by his confidence.

  "It's as good as done, witch."

  32

  "Oh, no, no. I've seen this movie," Mariketa said when they came upon a wooden bridge hundreds of feet above a river gorge. The height was so marked, the river below looked like a thread. "And it wasn't a comedy!" She scrambled directly back into Bowe, then stiffened. Before she could retreat, he'd wrapped one arm over her upper chest and the other down to her waist.

  He'd spooked her earlier—had known it was happening, even at the time. But he'd been filled with jealousy the likes of which he'd never known. And he'd been confounded that her revelation of loving another had felt like a booted kick to the ballocks.

  Bowe didn't need to have Mariketa's love, he told himself. Just as long as he had her.

  So why was he so envious of that faceless demon—the soon-to-be-dead demon who knew what it was like to be loved by Mariketa?

  Now when she pressed back against him, as if for support, he gave her a quick nuzzle against her soft hair to praise her. "Mariketa, you're trembling."

  "I'm petrified of heights."

  "Rydstrom told me. Why this fear? Did something happen to you?"

  "Yeah, sea level happened to me. As in, I'm rarely above it."

  "Aye, then." Bowe asked Rydstrom, "Can we no' find another way across?"

  Cade had just returned from scouting and answered, "Not without adding two more days."

  Two days would be too late for him and Mariketa. He shot a look at Rydstrom.

  "The bridge is sturdy," Rydstrom assured her. "These armies have been driving trucks over it. It's the way we must go."

  Tera said, "All right, who's doing the obligatory thing with the rock?"

  "What thing?" Bowe asked.

  Mariketa said, "You know, someone drops a rock, and we all silently watch it fall while contemplating the plummet to our deaths?"

  Oh, that rock thing. "Mariketa, there will be no falling. This will be safe to cross. There are even rope rails on the side. But we are doing this." She gave a muted whimper at his words. Knowing how important she found it to appear strong in front of the others—and rightly so in the world of the Lore—Bowe drew her aside. "How about I jog across the bridge to show you it's safe, then return to carry you over?"

  She shook her head emphatically. "Y-you could be incrementally weakening it with every step."

  He curled his fingers under her chin. "Lass, I will no' let you be hurt. Ever."

  "I've got a bad feeling about this."

  "Aye, you're acrophobic—there's no way you could have a good feeling about this. I'll just be right back."

  "No, wait," she whispered, snatching his hand. "Don't go."

  He waved the others on. "We'll catch up."

  Tera said, "You okay, Mari?"

  She gave a pained smile. "Ducky."

  "Let me carry you over," he said again once they were alone. "Then you can keep your eyes closed."

  "B-but both of us, together? You must weigh two hundred and fifty pounds."

  "Look at the others," he said. Tierney was walking on the rope railing—and taunting her.

  She narrowed her eyes. "Did he... he didn't just call me a skirt?"

  "That he did."

  She exhaled as if defeated. "Peer pressure always was my weakness." Glancing up at Bowe, she asked, "If I walk across the bridge by myself, will you follow me?"

  Always. "I'll be right behind you."

  "Really close," she said, then added in a rush, "but don't stand on the same board as me."

  "Aye, noted. Now doona look down. Keep your eyes on Rydstrom's back. See, he's halfway across already."

  "Okay." She gave a firm nod and reached for the railing. "I c-can do this. No looking down."

  She was fear-stricken, her pupils like saucers and her hands shaking on the rope, but she still put one wee boot out onto the bridge. He'd known she was a brave lass, but when she took her first step, he wanted to howl with pride. Instead he said, "Was thinkin'. Maybe Lorekind would like you witches better if you were less mercenary."

  "We are mercenaries!" she snapped without turning back.

  "I ken that, but must you be?"

  "For a thousand years, the House has been filled with mercenaries. That'd be like saying that people would like Lykae better if they were less wolfy. And let me tell you, you are very wolfy."

  "Well, it's a good thing I'm rich so I can support you, kitten. I doona guess you've made too much money for the House."

  Between gritted teeth, she demanded, "Why would you say that? And don't call me kitten!"

  "Let's be realistic. I canna imagine you've been raking it in with your magicks, blowing up things the way you do. Does your coven have a money-back guarantee—"

  "You're trying to goad me, to make me forget my fear."

  "Aye. It was working. You're already halfway done."

  "Tricksy, damned wolf—"

  Birds shot from the canopy on both sides of the gorge.

  Moments later, the earth rumbled. Everyone on the bridge froze in surprise except for Bowe, who hooked his arm around Mari's waist, locking her tight against him.

  "Oh, gods! MacRieve?" she whispered in a tremulous voice, her palms glowing with magick, as if in reflex.

  "I'm right here, Mariketa." In mere seconds, everything had stilled. "It's over. Do you hear the forest quieting—"

  Another rumble. With her bright hands death-gripped on the rail, her legs seemed to give out, but he held her upright. "No, no, Mari, I've got you. Come, then. We can even go back the same way, if you'll just let go."

  She shook her
head wildly, her eyes mirrors.

  "Mari, you have to let go—I doona want to hurt your hands."

  A sudden surge of pressure built in the air. When he jerked his head up, he met eyes with Rydstrom, who had his brows drawn.

  "Duck!" Rydstrom bellowed and Bowe just yanked Mariketa down before a boulder dropped directly over their heads. The force of it punched into the bridge, sending it rippling like a whip before rupturing it.

  Looping his hand in the rope and locking his arm around her, he could do nothing but hold on as they swung like a pendulum straight for the sheer rock face.

  33

  Mari screamed as they hurtled closer and closer to the mountain. MacRieve had a one-handed grip on the railing so they went spinning in the air. She squeezed her eyes shut, her scream cut off by his painful hold around her growing even tighter.

  This can't be happening!

  Just before they slammed into the rock, he twisted, keeping his body between her and the impact. They bounced off, and he twisted again.

  When they finally settled, he said, "Are you hurt? Mariketa? Answer me!"

  The rock slide had stirred grit and sand, and she coughed before she could cry, "Oh, gods, this isn't happening."

  "Shh, shh. I've got you. Easy, then. I've got you now."

  She ignored the urge to wipe her eyes, and instead tightened her grip on him. She clutched his arms so hard, her nails sank into the muscles, yet he said nothing. "A-are you okay?"

  "Aye, fine. As soon as the dust clears, I'll climb straight up."

  "What... what was that?"

  "An earthquake. The area's known for them."

  "The others? Are they safe?"

  "Give me a second to see, lass. The dust is still settling over there as well. They're doubtless hanging on just like we are."

  Bowe's jaw slackened. When the air cleared, he saw the bridge on the other side was... gone.

  "Do you see them?"

  "They're fine. They made it across," he told her. Not necessarily a lie. They might have leapt up before the bridge was lost—no matter how much more likely it was that they'd fallen.

  Still, unless they lost their heads, a fall couldn't kill them. And until he got Mariketa down from this mountain, and safe from their present predicament, he didn't think it wise to tell her that her friends might have plunged hundreds of feet.

  "Now, we've got to get ourselves to safe ground, too. I can use the bridge's wood slats as rungs. We'll just climb up. Verra well, Mari?"

  "B-Bowen, wait! If you d-don't drop me on the climb up, I'll be nicer to you, and... and I'll sleep with you! I really will."

  "Well, in that case, I'll be sure to hold you tight," he said, reaching above him.

  "You're laughing at me."

  "Nothing on earth could make me drop you." Almost to the top. "Even if you've been cruel to me."

  "I've been cruel?"

  "Aye, and toying with me."

  "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

  "About leading me to think you were going to 'give it up' then reneging."

  "I never led you on!"

  "Did you no' jump me?"

  "You're trying to distract me again—" Her words ended in a shriek directly in his ear when he leapt from the bridge over the edge.

  "There, we're on solid ground again. See, everything's fine." As soon as he'd gotten them back down under the trees, he set her on her feet, holding her shoulders until she was steady enough to stand on her own. But she launched herself right back at him, wrapping her arms around his waist, like she'd hug a tree.

  He stared down at her. "Mariketa?"

  "Th-thanks for not letting me die."

  He dragged her arms up around his neck, then pressed her head to his chest, drawing her close. "I will never let anything happen to you." As she clutched him, he felt needed and strong—finally the protector he'd been born to be.

  She whispered, "Bowen, I think you're quite possibly my favorite person in the world right now."

  —Yours.—

  I know. He did. For weeks he'd thought of her, dreamed of her. Her passion had awed him. Her bravery and beauty amazed him. Now he simply allowed himself to accept what he'd wanted so desperately.

  She was his.

  Her for him. Period.

  "I can't believe you could hold on like that," she said. "You're really, uh, strong."

  "I'm supposed to be, to protect you."

  They both fell silent.

  "Not me, MacRieve."

  "I've made a decision, lass." He drew back and cupped her face. "If given the chance I would no' go back. You're mine. And I'm going to do whatever it takes, till I'm yours as well."

  She made a frustrated sound. "Typical male! Because of what happened in the cave?"

  "Aye, some. But also because of what happened after. We fit, you and me, and could make a life together. And, witch"—his gaze held hers—"we're going to have a bloody good time of it."

  34

  As they continued on, MacRieve grew quiet, seeming to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Mari couldn't read him and had begun to fear he regretted his earlier declaration.

  To break the silence, she said, "You must be missing your clan. I've heard you're a tight-knit group."

  He shrugged. "I'm no' much part of that—or I have no' been for some time." At her quizzical look, he said, "They question why I have no' found a way to die after my loss. I want to take you among them and say 'This is why I kept going, you sods. And look at my reward.'"

  Mari—alert—over your head!

  "Have you been around my kind much before?" he asked.

  "I've seen a couple of Lykae out on Bourbon Street—twins—but I've never met them."

  "Ah, the infamous Uilliam and Munro. I wonder that they weren't all over you. Were you still with your demon?" He grated the word.

  "No, we'd stopped seeing each other by then."

  "Why did you break things off with him? Did he hurt you?"

  "He left me."

  "Doona lie—"

  "I'm not! He broke up with me."

  When MacRieve nodded slowly, she said, "What? You can easily see that?"

  "No, I was just thinking about a saying my clan has: 'Enjoy a bounty if one falls in your lap. Savor it if it was lost by a careless man.'"

  Over my head. Maybe she was too young to resist. Maybe he was working her over like dough. Because right now, his prediction that he'd take her tonight was spot-on. "You see me as a bounty?"

  "Aye." His eyes were so focused and sincere. "One I'm eager to partake of."

  She grew flustered, and to break the moment, she said, "So, MacRieve, tell me five things about you that I didn't know."

  He seemed strangely uncomfortable with her suggestion and said, "Why do you want this?"

  "To break up the time while we're hiking."

  "You first, lass."

  "Well, I like to spin in office chairs till I'm nearly sick. My best friend thinks "Laissez les bons temps rouler" means "Plastic beads replace attire." I was a cheerleader—I know, the anti-establishment witch cheerleader. But it was the best way for me to get a scholarship." She sighed. "Until the cloak years."

  He raised his brows. "A football cheerleader?"

  "And some basketball, but mainly football."

  "Happens to be my favorite sport."

  "Mine, too! So how many is that?"

  "Three. Go on, then. This is fascinatin' stuff."

  "I like to play poker for cash, and pool-shark naive frat boys. Five things from you now."

  "What about your family?" he asked. "Parents? Siblings?"

  "Are you stalling?"

  "I'm curious about you. Indulge me." He gave her a half grin. "Since I dinna drop you earlier."

  Glancing away, she said, "Both my parents abandoned me at different times when I was a kid. Pops was a warlock—he ditched early and died soon after. My mother is a fey druidess—that's where I get the ears. She left me when I was twelve to go off
and study druidry, or whatever it's called." Mari gave a self-conscious wince. "Wow. And I was really trying not to sound resentful."

  "I'm sorry, Mariketa. I canna understand how any parent could leave a child behind."

  For some reason, she didn't want Bowen thinking ill about her parents. "They must have had their reasons. They did care about me when they were with me." That, at least, she knew for certain.

  When he didn't look wholly convinced, she said, "I remember when I was four, my parents took me to Disney World. My dad used magick to make sure I won all the prizes in the ring toss, even though he would raise his hands with an innocent expression every time I frowned at him. Both my mom and dad saw every mind-numbing musical and rode every ride, and all the while, they were weighted down with stuffed animals.

  "By noon my dad had started carrying me on his shoulders. At the end of the day, the two of them had that bomb-blast look you see on parents in the final hours of an amusement park sentence. Even so, they'd stopped for one last treat for me. My mom was nearly cross-eyed with fatigue and almost tendered druid coins for ice cream. Then, when we were eating our ice cream in a plaza, my dad jerked up from a bench. 'Jill!' he yelled. 'Where's Mari? Ah, gods! I've lost our daughter!' Then my mother pointed out that I was on his shoulders."

  The three of them had laughed until they'd cried.

  Bowen cocked his head at her. "They sound like they doted."

  Doted. What a fitting word. "I guess they did." After Mari's father had left, her mother continued to lavish her with attention—though Jillian would always appear saddened if they'd enjoyed themselves too much. Even at the end of that incredible day the two of them had spent on the beach, she'd seemed preoccupied—

  Mari felt a sudden odd bite in the air and gazed up. She spied ravens circling overhead, making chills trip up her spine.

  "What?" MacRieve asked, gently clasping her shoulders. "What is it?"

  "I don't know. Probably nothing," she said, yet continued to peer around her.

  "If you're having a gut feeling about something, I want to know. I should have listened to you about the bridge and will from now on."

  But she couldn't voice what she was feeling, because she didn't understand it. "No, I'm fine," she insisted, forcing a smile. "You still owe me five things."