by Kresley Cole
Chapter 10
“Keep your voice down!” Lucia hissed to Regin.
“And you didn’t tell me this? I mean, it is gross, and I will rag you about this for the rest of our immortal lives.”
“It’s not that bad—”
Regin gave a mock shudder. “Dude must’ve been picking vampire flesh from his teeth for days. And you kissed him with that mouth? In any case, do you want Skathi to kick your ass? Or repo your powers? Who am I going to hang out with when you’re a talentless nobody?”
Lucia glared.
“Wait! It all becomes clear—this is your chance to make up for that grossity, Luce. Bag and tag the Lykae!”
“Has everyone forgotten what he did for us?” Mac-Rieve could have escaped with Lucia but he’d stayed and defended them. He’d done that for her. And how was she about to repay him? With deceit.
Annika overheard that and crossed over to where Lucia was setting up her shot. “It seems you have forgotten his brother has my foster daughter.” She punctuated her words by cocking her tranquilizer gun. “I know you don’t feel right about this after what he did for us, but we need him to get my Emma back from that fiend.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Lucia said testily, making everyone stare. Levelheaded Lucia didn’t get testy often. “Though I’m the one who’s going to pay for this.”
“No one wants you to get hurt,” Annika said, then added more softly, “But, Lucia, you know Em must be terrified.”
Cosseted Emma would in fact be losing her shit. Though Lachlain knew she was a half-vampire, and most of his family had been murdered by them, he hadn’t sounded like he planned to hurt Emma. Didn’t matter. Em would be terrified just by what he was. She didn’t come by her name Emma the Timid lightly—she was afraid of her own shadow.
If only she’d been able to trace like other vampires, then she could’ve escaped Lachlain. They’d tried to teach her, but Emma had always been too weak….
“Yo, Annika. How much tranquilizer do you got in there?” Regin asked. “I don’t want to merely piss MacRieve off. You didn’t see him fight—because of the being covered in bricks and all—but he’s brutal.”
“I got the mixture from the witches,” Annika said. “They swore it’d take down elephants.”
Regin shook her head. “Dude’s a werewolf, that won’t be en—”
“Fifty elephants.”
“Oh.”
“Are you ready?” Annika asked Lucia.
Sure, Annika. I’m ready to go through agonizing pain, so you can catch my would-be lover. Why the hell not? Though her thoughts were crazed, Lucia evenly said, “I’ll do what I have to in order to get Emma back.”
“Good,” Annika said with a firm nod, moving to stand at her side. “Then let’s get this started.”
As the others took their places, Lucia readied her bow, nocking an arrow. Duty to family. Loyalty to them and Emma. Gritting her teeth, she aimed for a distant cypress, drawing the bowstring. At the last millisecond, just as Lucia’s fingers relaxed to release the string, Annika shoved her to the left. The arrow missed the tree.
At once, pain seared her—the agony of bones grinding, poisoned blood wrung from her body….
Lightning exploded, and she dropped to the ground, helpless not to scream.
Lucia’s scream pierced the night.
Roaring in answer, Garreth raced in her direction. Vampires are hunting Valkyrie. And she’d just screamed. If they hurt his woman….
His fangs sharpened; rage burned hot. My mate in jeopardy. Somehow he charged faster. Tree limbs raked his face and body, animals skirting out of his way as he plunged deeper into the swamp.
He was already turning. Letting the beast out of the cage. He knew he horrified her like this but he couldn’t help it—the need to protect overwhelmed him.
As Garreth ran for her, he scented other Valkyrie. There must be vampires, attacking in number. But as he neared, he smelled none.
He burst into a clearing, spied Lucia on the ground, twisting in pain.
Turning even more fully. He’d slaughter whoever did this.
— What you see is not so. —
He felt a prick on his neck, slapped at it. A dart? Oh, fuck no! Still struggling to reach her, he felt his body go boneless, his legs giving way.
Garreth crashed to the ground right beside Lucia, landing on his side. As Lucia gazed at him vacantly through tears, smirking Valkyrie surrounded them. Realization struck. Lucia had done this on purpose. She was the bait.
“You… helped them?” His words were slurred, rough.
She nodded. Despite the fact that she’d deceived him, he couldn’t stand the sight of her tears. He reached forward to brush her face, but his arm went limp. “Why?” he rasped. “Why, Lousha?”
She whispered, “He took her… took Emma.”
“Who?”
“You don’t know?”
“Know… what?” He saw her lips moving but heard nothing as consciousness faded.
Chapter 11
“For the love of all that’s unholy, will he not shut up?”
Regin demanded, pausing her video game.
MacRieve had been roaring in his cage in the basement for hours now, keeping Lucia on the razor’s edge—an uncomfortable place to be with her muscles still aching from the night before. Gods, how she paid for those missed shots.
And more unnerving, Nïx was perched on the back of the sofa, absently braiding her long sable hair, studying Lucia’s reactions. Nïx, usually so vacant eyed, was watching her keenly. She knows how I feel about him….
Or how she’d felt about him—before Lucia had seen him turned, his face savage, his fangs so sharp.
“Let me the bluidy hell out of here!” sounded up from below.
Regin glared at Lucia, as if this were her fault. “He is harshing my buzz, and I am”—Regin turned to yell over her shoulder—“not interested!”
“Open this fucking cage, you glowing bluidy freak!” Gods, he was fierce.
Yet as soon as the thought arose, she recalled how he’d awkwardly patted her tears. And last night, even after realizing what she’d done to him, he’d still reached for her.
“Somebody needs to make Scooby a snack or something, ’cause this howling is freaking old!”
They could hear him banging against the bars, but he could never break them. Though the Lykae were the strongest species in all the Lore, the metal was indestructible, made so by spells purchased from the witches.
“You go, Luce,” Regin said, eyeing her video game longingly.
“What do you think I can do?”
“He’s attracted to you. Skeevy as that is… At least go try. Just don’t lift tail for him or anything.”
“Regin!” Lucia snapped, slanting a telling glance at Nïx.
With a roll of her eyes, Regin said, “Oh, yeah, like the soothsayer doesn’t already have your number.”
Nïx winked at her.
“Come on, I’ve never gotten this far in the game.”
Lucia rose slowly, stifling a wince when her muscles protested. “Fine, I’ll go,” she said, acting put out over seeing MacRieve, though she’d wanted to since he’d awakened. She wanted to finally thank him for saving her life—for painstakingly hiding her away, then rising up like wrath embodied against the vampires who’d invaded her family’s home.
Apparently, the beast could be tender. Or deadly. No matter what he was, or what was inside him, he deserved her gratitude.
And she wouldn’t mind a chance to find out why she reacted so intensely to him. How could she still be so drawn to him, even after she’d seen what he was inside?
“You owe me one, Reege,” Lucia added in an aggrieved tone.
Nïx easily saw through her act and winked again, growing happy, entertained by Lucia’s behavior. But when the soothsayer followed her to the basement door, Lucia turned and said, “No, I want to talk to him alone.”
“Even when I already know everything you’re abo
ut to say? Just as I already knew about the saliva swap at the swamp you two attended weeks ago.” Then, more gently, Nïx added, “You like him?”
Lucia sighed, leaning her shoulder against the wall. “I don’t understand it. He’s like my kryptonite. Just his brogue…”
“Makes your claws curl?”
“Big-time. When I was with him, it was like I had no defense. He got this look in his eyes, and my mind went blank,” she admitted. “Have you ever fought an opponent you had no defense against? Like a fire breather or an acid spitter?”
“Once I faced a female with diamond skin,” Nïx said breathlessly. “I was transfixed—even as she was choking the life out of me.”
“Really?”
“No, I saw that character on X-Men. I just wanted to commiserate. Alas, I have no weaknesses.”
“Except your insanity,” Lucia pointed out.
Sigh. “Well played, Archer. Then carry on….”
With a deep breath, Lucia opened the door. When she descended the steps, MacRieve’s gaze locked on her, his eyes ice blue, his dark brown hair disheveled. He wore another pair of worn jeans and a long-sleeve black sweater. Simple clothing. Though she might yearn for more elaborate garments for herself, she liked simple for men. Another grudging check in MacRieve’s plus column.
He immediately clamped his hands on the bars, straining to break them, his arm and shoulder muscles rippling.
“You can’t budge them, MacRieve. They’ve been reinforced by the witches.”
He released them at once, with his lip curled in disgust. She’d always heard the Lykae had an aversion to witches. Evidently, that rumor was true.
“Why’ve you done this to me? You help them trap me after I saved your life from those vampires? You’re bluidy welcome!”
And there went her plan to express gratitude to him. She averted her gaze, letting her hair fall over her face.
“In thanks you cage me in this shite hole.”
She glanced around. Inside the cage were facilities and a nice cot. “It isn’t that bad down here,” she said, inwardly conceding that it might be a bit dank—the half-basement had been built before people realized cellars didn’t really work in soggy southern Louisiana. “It’s got a window,” she muttered defensively.
“Lousha, you can free me.”
“Bring that up again, and I’ll leave.”
“Then tell me what I’m doing here!”
“Would you believe me if I told you that Lachlain lived? And that he kidnapped my niece Emmaline, claiming she was his mate?”
He froze. “Nay, I would no’. You’ve made a mistake.”
“There’s no mistake.” She frowned. “How is it that you wouldn’t know this?”
“Have no’ been back to the compound in a while. And now, conveniently, I canna to verify your tale. How long will I be down here?”
“Until we get Emma back,” she answered.
“And you’d do this after I saved you—and your sisters?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation. We’re enemies.”
“No, we’re no’! We’re…”
“We’re what?”
“Compatible,” he answered so smoothly.
“Why did you come to Val Hall that night, anyway?”
He hiked those broad shoulders. “I was in the neighborhood.”
“And you were last night as well? You’ve obviously been following me. You told me I wasn’t your mate. Did you lie?”
“You’re going to accuse me of dishonesty when you’ve just used yourself as bait to trap me, and then lied to my face?” When she was clearly unconvinced, he said, “Think about it—if you’d been my mate, then how would I have stayed away the night of the full moon?”
“A cage like this.”
“Lykae do no’ ally with witches.” He seemed to stifle a shudder at the thought.
So I’m not his. “MacRieve, your brother is alive.”
“You’re saying he’s come back from the dead after one hundred and fifty years, and his queen, this Emma, is a Valkyrie?”
“Not exactly.” She’s a halfling vampire. How would Garreth react to the fact that his brother’s mate—though bashful and kind—was a blood drinker?
“Tell me what, exactly,” Garreth demanded.
“Just forget it.”
“Then I’ll have to see Lachlain’s return to believe it,” he said, even as hope welled inside him. Though it was a fantastical tale, Garreth himself had never accepted Lachlain’s death. For decades, he had searched to find the mystically hidden Horde capital. After the first thirty years of wondering and investigating, he’d admitted to himself that it might be better if Lachlain had been killed.
Demestriu was known to torture in unimaginable ways.
Now, if Garreth allowed himself to truly believe his brother had returned and then learned it was a mistake… he didn’t think he could lose Lachlain twice.
“You weary my patience with this, Lousha.” She did, and would have even more if his “capture” hadn’t been somewhat voluntary—he’d woken briefly as they’d transported him here. Checking his bindings, about to rip free of them, he’d asked, “Where are you taking me?”
She’d been wan, her eyes glassy with lingering pain. “To Val Hall.”
Garreth had stopped struggling. After all, he was a Lykae—no cage could hold him and she was taking him into her home. He’d thought this would prove to be a fortuitous turn. He’d be closer to her, better able to protect her. Now he was trapped. Bluidy witches!
Taking a seat on the floor, he leaned back against the wall, drawing a knee up. “Sit,” he commanded, adding in a softer tone, “It’s the least you can do.”
With a glare, she drew a chair in front of the cage and gingerly sat. She’s hurting still. He hardened himself against the concern he felt. “Why were you in agony the night of the vampire attack? I scented no blood on you, saw no injury.”
“It’s not your concern.”
“So you do feel pain when you miss a shot?”
She looked startled, distinctly on edge, letting her hair fall over her face again. She was wearing thick braids over her pointed ears, but the rest of her shining mane flowed freely, locks tumbling over her forehead. “What could you possibly know about me?”
“More than you think. Made you my subject of study. Dinna find out all I’d aimed to, though. Most folks just know you’re the Archer.”
Seeming relieved, she said, “That’s me. All there is to know.”
“What about your family, your birth mother? Who were her people?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the stairs before facing him again. “I don’t know who she was. I don’t even know what she was.”
“She could’ve been a Lykae?”
Lucia shrugged her slim shoulders. “For all I know.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re more reasonable with other factions. You could be related to them,” he observed. “In any case, if your intent was to be mysterious, you’ve succeeded.”
“Oh, I’m mysterious? You showed up out of nowhere to decapitate two vampires in my living room.”
“Ask me anything, and I’ll answer.”
She raised her brows in challenge. “Really, Dark Prince?”
“Aye. That’s what I was called.” Garreth had never thought he’d be king, not with an immortal older brother, and he’d behaved accordingly, saying and doing things Lachlain never could have. Garreth had been a wild one, dubbed the Dark Prince before he’d reached twenty. And yes, the association with Lucifer was on purpose. Responsible Lachlain used to bail him out of scrape after scrape. “You’ve been digging for background on me?”
“Digging? Your background’s pretty notorious.”
“Maybe. I’ve doubtless made mistakes.” Big ones. If he’d been more involved with the clan, and less involved with himself, perhaps his brother wouldn’t have set off alone that fateful night. “But at least I own my actions when I bollix things up.” Unlike you, li
ttle mate.
Ignoring his pointed comment, she asked, “Why have you brought your people here? To Louisiana?”
“After my brother went missing, many of the Lykae wanted to be as far away from the Horde as possible. This was no’ the first place we picked, believe me.” Once he’d inherited the crown, he’d cleaned his act up, then begun scouring the earth for a new home for them, wanting to do at least that for his people. “But in the end, it made sense.”
After another glance over her shoulder, she said, “It made sense to trespass in Valkyrie territory?”
Aye, or I might no’ ever have found you. “We’re no’ so bad as neighbors, lass. And the Valkyrie and Lykae are no’ enemies.”
“Except at the Accession. When we’re all forced to fight.”
Every five hundred years, pivotal events in the Lore began to take place, each one forcing conflicts between factions. Some said this concentration of incidents was a mystical mechanism to cull an ever-growing population of immortals.
There was no grand war to decide it all—at least there hadn’t been in the past—but the battles and confrontations made for a war of attrition. Once the Accession had swept through, the faction with the most players still alive won. “The Lykae will no’ be fighting any Valkyrie this Accession.”
“You know what’s driving all this. You won’t have any control over it,” she said with another glance over her shoulder.
“Would your sisters frown on the fact that you’re attracted to me?”
She faced him at once. “I’m not!”
“Lie to yourself, Lousha. No’ to me. I was there with you that night, remember? You might be trying no’ to recall it, but it’s seared into my head.”
“No, actually I want to recall it—I like to remember my mistakes. So I don’t repeat them.”
“A mistake then? Is that what Valkyrie call scream-wrenching orgasms?”
Between gritted teeth, she said, “I asked you not to do certain things, and you just ignored me.”
“Like what?”
“Like not taking off my underwear. You ripped them from me, then stole them! Why would you ever?”
He cast her a shameless grin. “To do unseemly things with them.”
