Pleasure of a Dark Prince

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 about 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, little 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.”

She held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear more. Again, MacRieve, why did you come to Val Hall that night?”

“Because you were screaming like a banshee? I saw scattered arrows on the floor. No’ a one bloodied. Did you pay for missing? Maybe you did make a deal with the devil to shoot like that.”

Her eyes flashed silver. “You know nothing!” She shot to her feet and ran, climbing the stairs without looking back.

“Come back here, Lousha!” The charade was over; he wanted out of the cage. Clenching his jaw, he tried to bend the bars—nothing. “Damn you, Valkyrie.”

Once he got loose… all the witches in the world couldn’t protect her.