by Kresley Cole
“Don’t be ridiculous!” No matter how incensed she was at him for putting her in this position, she didn’t want him hurt. And fighting with him was changing nothing—their situation wasn’t altering. Think… think. This isn’t happening tonight.
Fate has a way of getting what she wants, no matter how we try to avoid it.
Ah, gods, unless she could get off this boat, it would be happening.
“Damn it, lass, I will try to be gentle.” Garreth reached for her shoulder. “Maybe if we started now, I could get you accustomed. I could make sure you were crazed with needing, too….”
But she flinched from him, clearly furious. Rightly furious with him. I’d promised her that she had nothing to fear. And Lucia had promised that she’d hate him forever if she broke her vows.
“It will no’ be like your last time, Lousha.”
“What do you know about my last time?”
“Does no’ take a genius to realize you had a bad experience.”
“Y-you have no idea.” She shuddered, her wee ears peeking out from her soaked mane.
“The man hurt you?” Wanting to kill some faceless male, needing to… Keep it together, Garreth.
She nodded. And she hadn’t had sex in a millennium because of it.
“I’m not ready, MacRieve. I’m just not. I don’t want this.” Her eyes were bleak.
Over the last ten days, Garreth hadn’t eased her mind about sex. Or changed it. Either because of her vows or because she’d been scarred from the last time, Lucia wasn’t ready for this night—couldn’t endure a moon-crazed Lykae taking her untried body.
Without mercy.
“Listen, we can fix this.”
“H-how? Nothing will stop you. No cage can hold you.”
“You can put me out of commission, make it so I canna chase you,” he said.
“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”
Garreth answered, “Shoot me between the eyes.”
“I–I can’t do that!” Lucia cried.
“Then you’ll do to me as my kinsmen did.”
“What?”
“They beat me within an inch of my life, then tied me up in a dungeon,” MacRieve said. “Broke a leg or two. Worked like a charm those times. We doona have a dungeon, but if you—”
“No, no, you had other women. I found condoms in your bag!”
He frowned. “I bought those for you, so I would no’ get a babe on you too soon. Had no’ found out your diet, or lack of one, would work just as well.”
She was still shaking her head in disbelief.
“Lousha, I have no’ been with another since I met you.”
At that, the worst of her anger sieved from her, and she whispered, “You had them beat you?” Her heart seemed to twist in her chest. I’m falling for him.
Lucia had thought she’d been in love all those centuries ago with the fair-haired suitor from her dreams. She still remembered so vividly how it’d felt. Nice. Rainbows-and-kittens nice.
What she felt for MacRieve was raw and hurting, and she knew she’d never be the same.
“Dinna want to scare you off,” he said, then added in a gruff tone, “Though it bluidy happened anyway.”
Falling for you, MacRieve. “I can’t… I can’t hurt you.”
“We doona have a choice.”
She was shaking her head when the clouds briefly broke, circling the full moon. Like a spotlight upon them, silvery light shone down. To reveal what he was inside.
His eyes turned fully blue, the image of the beast wavering over him.
“Ah, gods, you’re already turning!”
“Then you’ve got to hurry.”
“No, damn it! I’ll leave, try to get downriver. Help me put the skiff in the water.”
“No’ a chance. The caimans—”
“Are heading in the other direction. And they were only interested in the lure.”
“And what about the vampire? There was a coffin aboard the Barão. I canna let you do this!”
“Listen to me, Scot. You and I both know that until the moon sets, you’re more of a threat to me than a vampire.”
“Nay, Lousha. I would never hurt you.”
“I’m not asking you about this. I wouldn’t be in this position if you’d let me go in the first place. You got us into this mess—now trust me to get myself out of it.” Whatever he saw in her expression made him hesitate. “It’s only a few hours till sunrise. We’ll find each other then.”
“Lass, if anything happened to you…”
“You have to let me go, MacRieve.”
After long moments, he exhaled a deep breath. “I’m giving you a free rein, then.” He hastened to the motor-boat, slashing the lines that secured it to the Contessa. He lifted the skiff as if it were a feather and dumped it in the water. “I’ll try to get as far as I can in the other direction.”
Chapter 37
While he got the little engine started, she grabbed her bow, quiver, and pack, then jumped into the boat.
“You know how to drive this?” he asked, brows drawn with worry.
“I live in bayou country, werewolf.”
“You stay in the boat, doona make land.” His eyes were growing bluer. “Lousha, go. Now.”
“Be careful,” she whispered, leaping up and daring a kiss good-bye before she put the boat in gear. The engine sputtered, then dug in.
Glancing over her shoulder, she peered back at MacRieve—who was clenching the railing, looking as though it took everything in him not to follow her. Just before she turned a bend, driving out of his sight, she saw him crush the railing with his grip.
How far could she possibly get before he succumbed to the moon’s pull?
With each mile gained, the renewed downpour stymied her retreat, filling the boat with more rainwater. She bailed as she steered, blinking against the stinging drops as she maneuvered around debris in her way.
An hour passed like this, then two… And all the while, she began encountering more and more vegetation. The Victoria water lilies were everywhere, their pads bouncing off the bow of the boat, their lengthy stems trailing behind them. They usually lined the banks. So what were they doing out this far in the middle of the river?
She tried to steer around them but there were so many. Each time she ran over one, she held her breath as the engine sputtered. If enough stems tangled in the propeller, the motor could overheat—
With a series of smoking coughs, the engine quit.
She hauled it up, frantically tearing the knotted clumps from the propeller, then lowered it back into the water. Again and again, she yanked on the pull-start.
Nothing.
After several more futile tries, Lucia dropped down into the seat, releasing a stunned breath. Helpless to do anything but drift with the current, she raised her face to the sky. I’m doomed.
She knew MacRieve would find her. That’s what his kind did. He would have to cross the river, then make up all the distance she’d gained by boat, but she had no doubt he could do it.
Part of her thought, If he does this, then it will be over. The responsibility, the pressure, the fear of pain from a missed shot—all finished.
The last tie to Skathi.
This chore of killing Cruach would fall to another, a stronger immortal. One who wasn’t as tired as Lucia. Part of her wanted that so badly—
Something bumped the skiff. Then again. Gazing down with dread, she saw more of the caimans. They weren’t as giant as those from before, but they streamed out of the jungle, following a swath cut through the riverside lily pads. Probably lured by the siren call of that bait trap.
All Schecter’s fault. She could see where the larger creatures had torn out of some concealed tributary, ripping that new pathway through the vegetation, slashing free all the lilies that had eventually fouled Lucia’s motor.
Congratulations, Schecter, you’re a freaking genius. Can’t hold your bladder worth a damn, but—
Then she frowned. Th
e exodus of caimans came out of seemingly nowhere.
Her eyes widened. The swath through green led to… nothing. She couldn’t see a tributary.
“Oh, Freya!” It was Rio Labyrinto!
But she was drifting past it! With a swallow, she peered at the water again. She was going to have to put her arm in and paddle.
She knew what would happen if a caiman got her. The same as had to Marcos Damiãno, who’d been eaten whole by one. She’d read about that species—the caimans had some of the strongest stomach acid of any creature on earth. Would it be enough to kill an immortal like Damiãno?
If the shifter woke trapped in the belly of some primordial monster, would he pray for death? Immortality could be a curse, if one wanted—or needed—to die.
Yes, Lucia knew what she risked. But I’m so close! If I can just reach the river. Before she’d been despairing, ready to give up. Now she wanted to fight. Damn it, she would win. She would kill Cruach. Once and for all.
I’m here, aren’t I? She’d found Rio Labyrinto, which meant El Dorado had to be close. I can do this.
Skathi had said, You’ll be my instrument.
Lucia was ready to be. My responsibility, my kill. Now I need my weapon. With that thought in mind, she gritted her teeth and dipped her arm in, paddling for a patch of shore just downriver from the portal entrance.
Once she was about five feet from land, she leapt into thigh-high water, grabbing the front rope. Trudging her way to the shore, she dragged the boat behind her, tying it to a limb.
After gearing up with her backpack and bow, strapping both on, she started into the jungle, following Rio Labyrinto. Yet soon she discovered it was aptly named—there wasn’t a winding river but a maze of streams, intersecting and diverging.
Slogging through waist-high water. Onto solid ground. Vaulting fallen trees. Back in the water….
Her ears twitched. Things were moving all around her, creeping in the water. Were they the matora, giant anacondas? “Even an immortal could no’ fight one off if it wrapped around the arms,” MacRieve had told her.
And she’d read that once one coiled around its prey, the snake would constrict with each of the victim’s exhalations, until the lungs were flattened.
Ignore them. Nothing was worse than Cruach, and damn it, a weapon to destroy him was within her reach! So close…
Then she froze when she heard a more chilling sound not far in the distance—an agonized roar. MacRieve’s here. Already tracking her. She took off at a sprint. The rain had lightened to the merest drizzle. The better to scent me.
I am going to have to shoot him. Yes, to take an arrow from the quiver he’d gifted her with, then shoot him between the eyes. Earlier she hadn’t been able to even consider it—yet that was before she’d gotten this close to her salvation… to the world’s salvation!
Shooting MacRieve would buy her enough time until sunrise, possibly enough time to find the dieumort.
But then she’d be leaving him defenseless here. Just as the creatures of this place had left, they would return. Anything could attack him.
Despite her speed, MacRieve was gaining. She heard him crashing through the jungle, raking his claws on trees, and ran as if for her life.
Lucia was running for her life, for her future! You can always appease Cruach. The hell she would!
Faster, faster… As she scaled a rise, the brush thinned somewhat, allowing her to increase her already manic pace. When she heard him roar again, she dared a glance over her shoulder; her front foot landed on… air.
She pitched forward into nothing, her body plummeting to the ground.
Chapter 38
“Not here,” Garreth muttered as he ran. “She dinna come here.” Not to this treacherous place.
His mate had somehow found… the labyrinth.
Stalking headlong after her, he tore through the jungle, limbs abrading till blood ran. But he felt no pain.
If she could get to the necropolis, she’d be safe. The matora didn’t come off the towering levee walls. Otherwise…
Can’t even think of what they do to their victims. He somehow charged faster, hurdling rivulets and downed trees. And all the while he was turning more, the beast taking over.
Even if she hadn’t been in danger, he couldn’t have stopped chasing her, no matter how hard he fought it. Her scent was irresistible to him, like air. He needed to reach her as much as he needed to breathe.
Must be gentle with her. If he hurt her, he’d never forgive himself. Accept me, Lousha, surrender to me.…
The terrain steepened. He knew this marked the beginning of the levees—a place he’d hoped never to see again. Capped with debris and growing brush, the walls teemed with anacondas.
As he ascended the rise, he peered around him. The jungle had fallen silent. Night insects, nocturnal birds, and the normally boisterous howler monkeys grew quiet. Because of a predator?
Or because they fear me?
He scented the air for Lucia again, realized he was almost upon her. Because she’d… stopped?
No! “Just get into the city, Lousha. Just hang on….”
Lucia snatched at vines as she fell. Hands flailing, grasping…
Caught one! Just above the ground, she jerked to a stop.
Dizzy, breathless, she lowered herself to her feet, then backed up several steps. “What have I found?” All around her, stone walls soared, shaped like a giant wishing well. The levees! They had to be eighty feet high and thirty feet across, all draped in those liana vines.
MacRieve had told her that the engineering was inconceivable, and he was right. Every rock in these walls had been cut and pounded into the next, flawlessly arranged. No mortar necessary—a blade wouldn’t have fit between them.
To her right was a sizeable accumulation of discarded rocks piled against the walls, thick at the bottom, then tapering all the way to the top. My way out of here.
The necropolis had to be near. Lucia set off, pushing on for the interior. When she found a clearing, she sucked in a breath, awed, turning in a slow circle.
All around a central expanse, boulders were strewn, monoliths crawling with vegetation and vines. Lining a cobble drive were imposing twenty-foot-high statues of gods or royals, gazing down with watchful eyes. Stone structures of two or so stories dotted the grounds. They were open-aired like small temples. So where’s the tomb?
Great ceiba trees grew in profusion, producing a roof of unbroken canopy, woven so densely it kept out most of the rain—until the wind blew and the leaves turned, splattering hard drops.
Then her jaw slackened. In the distance was a circular, domed structure—a panteón.
A tomb. Though it was nearly shrouded in those vines, she could tell it was massive in size.
She hastened over but found no visible entrance. In a rare patch of stone still uncovered by foliage, she spied a carving depicting a triangle of gold gleaming in a woman’s uplifted palms. Lucia cleared more vines. Another glyph showed a half-man/half-jaguar being drinking from a shining chalice.
Everything in Lucia said this was the tomb of El Dorado. To be this close. To finally have the means to kill Cruach—
She heard something tearing down that stockpile of rocks and jerked her head up. MacRieve was near. She faced the sound and raised her bow.
Moments later, MacRieve burst into the clearing, sagging as if with relief to find her safe. As he raked his gaze over her, her raised bow warranted barely a glance.
He was barefooted and shirtless, the shifter’s bite on his arm red and swollen, lacerations crisscrossing his chest. His massive shoulders rose and fell with his heaving exhalations.
The beast flickered strongly over him, just like the night at Val Hall. “Do it… shoot me, Lousha.” His voice had already started to change.
I have to. If I don’t, then I’ll never shoot again. This bow would never be in her hands. Her life as she knew it would be over. Shoot him, Lucia!
Instead, she backed up a step, then an
other, until she came up against a vine-covered rock. Nowhere left to run. Attack or submit. With a swallow, she pulled the string tighter.
Yet then she gazed at his face, at his brows drawn as he awaited the shot. He expected it.
It had always felt wrong to hurt MacRieve. Even before she’d fallen for him. Ah, Freya, I can’t do this. She eased the tension on her bowstring. “I–I can’t.” I’m in love with him. From the first moment she’d seen him… this had been inevitable.
“Do it!” He lunged at her, trying to provoke her. “Lousha, shoot your arrow… only way this will end without me claiming you.”
The wind gusted and moonlight pierced through the canopy. A spear of silver hit him, and he shuddered. “The moon… is pulling me. You canna know… the strength. Can you no’ choose me over your vows this night? For once, damn you!”
She slowly shook her head. “It can’t happen.”
“Then bluidy shoot me!” He stabbed his fingers through his hair, looking desperate, feral. “Goddamnit, I doona know what to do!”
This was the first time he’d ever shown doubt, ever shown a moment’s hesitation in front of her. Even now, when the moon demanded, he was resisting its call for her. For over nine hundred years he’d awaited this night—and he would rather have an arrow bored into his brain than take her like this.
Fate has a way…. He hung his head for long moments. When he raised his face, his eyes were pale blue, his fangs and claws grown long. The skin of his broad chest was damp with sweat and rain and sheened in the moonlight. He was erect, his shaft straining against his jeans.
The beast was clear to her; MacRieve would lose all control soon. And with that realization, she was amazed to feel something she never thought she’d experience at a moment like this—lust.
Deep, wet, undeniable lust. Her claws curled and lightning struck nearby, searing through limbs above, letting more moonlight blaze in.
She lost her focus for the merest instant. With unfathomable speed, he lunged for her, knocking her arrow away. Before she could even react, he’d taken her into his arms, squeezing her to him, his hands and mouth seemingly everywhere, stoking her need. When he snared her bow and quiver, tossing them away, she cried, “MacRieve, no! You have to fight this!”
