Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night

15

After Hild had set off, plainly loath to leave Tera—though she seemed oblivious to his attraction—the remaining five had eaten as much unripened fruit as they could tolerate, then taken places around the fire to pass out.

Cade had moved to sleep beside Mari, and she was good with that plan, but Rydstrom had said something sharp in Demonish that made Cade scowl at the entrance to the cave, then turn away from her.

As the others drifted off to sleep one by one, Mari remained wide awake and still chilled and hungry. Though they were in a jungle, this cave sat at a higher elevation. The night air inside was moist and cool, and her long hair hadn't dried.

Rydstrom remained awake as well, and after placing more wood on the fire, he limped over to where she lay.

"How's your leg?" she asked.

"Healing rapidly."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said, reminded again of everything he'd done for her. "Listen, Rydstrom, thank you for helping me tonight. For all your help."

"It was nothing." When he sat beside her, her attention wandered to his damaged horns. One had a piece gouged out, and the other had at least four inches missing from the end.

Mari's first—and only—long-term boyfriend, Acton, had been a storm demon. After dating him for years, she knew how important a demon's horns were to a male. Even females were vain about their tiny, downy ones that looked more like cool hair accessories.

And for rage demons, when their horns straightened and sharpened, the points emitted a deadly poison. Their kind didn't often get jumped from behind. To lose an end would be handicapping for a warrior. "What happened here?" She just prevented herself from reaching out and skimming her finger over one—which would have been totally taboo. "Did it hurt?"

"Like hell. I fought a bit when I was younger."

"I'll bet you did with Cade."

He shook his head. "We didn't live in the same household growing up. The heir is always separated out."

That explained the differences in their accents and bearings.

In an obvious bid to change the subject, he said, "You know, something struck me as odd tonight."

"Only one thing struck you as odd?"

He raised an eyebrow, then continued, "Earlier, when I mentioned that I'd told the Lykae to leave us, I thought you would have been more pleased." Why was Rydstrom studying her reaction like that?

"I was thoroughly pleased." Utterly. "Good riddance, I say."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think that even now you're wishing he'd come back."

"Oh, but you do know better. MacRieve's rabid, and needs to be put down. Though maybe I shouldn't say anything bad about him since you're obviously friends with him. You saved him tonight, from me."

"I did that for you as well. I didn't want you to regret taking his head."

"I'm a witch—I'm sure I would have found a way to carry on." She tilted her head at him. "And you really stuck up for MacRieve with the others."

He nodded. "Bowen and I fought together for many years. And in one battle he saved my youngest sister's life."

"MacRieve did?" At Rydstrom's grave nod, she asked, "Then how could he trap you in the first place?"

Rydstrom shrugged. "I think he was a shade shocked to see me inside, but honestly, I'd have done the same to him. It was a competition, and he desperately wanted that key."

In an uninterested tone, she said, "I suppose he must have loved his mate very much."

"I can't say for certain. I never had the opportunity to be around him and Mariah together. They were only together for a few weeks before she died."

"Mariah? She was fey?"

"Yes. A princess of the fey. Very beautiful, by all accounts."

Princess? Mari thought, running a hand over her matted hair. Beautiful?

Puzzling, but her Pig Pen appearance bothered her more than it had a moment earlier. Her hand shot down when Rydstrom regarded her quizzically. "How did she die?"

"I'd heard it was an accident in the woods."

"Then what did he mean when he said he was responsible for her death?"

"He was with her and blames himself."

"There's got to be more to the story than that."

"I'm sorry, Mariketa, but it's not my story to tell. And unfortunately, I can't recommend asking him about it either."

"Oh. Well, it's not like I'm going to stay up nights thinking about this."

"No? You seem curious about him."

"He's my enemy. It's a good idea to learn about him."

"You are right, of course. I will answer any questions I can."

She hesitated, then couldn't keep herself from asking, "What's he usually like? When not fighting for something?"

"He once was jovial, but he always did his own thing. Since his mate's death, he's been dying slowly, turning cold and indifferent. Some say crazed, even. I will admit he can be coarse, saying exactly what's on his mind, but the others were wrong tonight—he's never been needlessly cruel."

"Why does he hate witches so much?"

"I don't know the specifics, but I think his family was grievously hurt by one in some way. Besides, all Lykae mistrust witches. And I think they instinctively fear them a little."

"I can't see MacRieve fearing anything."

"True, he was always on the front line in battle, the first to meet the enemy. But with your kind... " He trailed off and lowered his voice. "I've seen him unconsciously ease across the street to give even a fortune-teller a wide berth. He was wholly unaware of it."

"No way!" When someone mumbled in sleep, she softened her tone to say, "So my attack tonight must have completely thrown him—pun intended."

He grinned, flashing his even white teeth and short fangs. "Yes, but that's the thing about Bowen—he'll shrug it off soon enough."

As she thought over what she'd learned, Rydstrom said, "There's one thing you should remember if you ever do happen upon him or another Lykae. If you want the key to understand them, know that they truly are like wolves. If you're around them enough, you can see it clearly."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever heard of the Lykae Instinct?"

She nodded. "They have a wolf spirit inside them or something. Makes them howl at the moon, bite their bed partners, scratch inappropriately, blah, blah."

He seemed pleased by her flippant answer for some reason. "It's a bit more complicated than that. But we'll talk some more tomorrow." He lay on his side and shut his eyes. "Get some sleep. The upcoming journey will be arduous... "

Hours later, Mari was still awake, hungrier and now shivering. Though she was abjectly miserable, she'd thought she would sleep through anything—

"Come tae me," she heard from a distance.

She shot upright, squinting into the shadows. At the entrance of the cave, warm amber eyes glowed in the darkness. He'd come back!

"Ah, you're excited about my return, then," he murmured. "Your heart sped up at the verra sound of my voice."

The nerve! "Only because I'm eager to throw you around some more. That'll never get old."

"You're cold and still soaked through."

"Nothing escapes you."

"I've something for you to eat."

At the thought of more gel packs or green bananas, she almost retched, but then the scent of something cooked, something heavenly, assailed her. "What is that smell?" she asked just as the others awakened one by one.

"Food for you, Mariketa," he answered. "A feast of it." Beside his spot at the edge of the cave, she spied what looked like grilled fish and crayfish, as well as some kind of roasted meat laid out on a smooth flank of wood. Succulent fruits lay in abundant piles, with not a green banana among them.

As her mouth watered, Rydstrom muttered, "Methinks your Lykae is trying to impress you. What he can't take, he'll tempt."

"Shut it, demon," she said, and he gave a half laugh.

"There's food enough for everyone, and I will bargain for it," MacRieve said.

"What do you want?" Tera asked, rubbing her eyes.

"As you likely overheard, it seems the wee witch might have cast more than one spell over me, a spell that makes me think of her as my mate. So I'm no' letting her out of my sight—I will be accompanying her on the trek out of the jungle and will fight anyone who tries to stand in my way. When I settle my plans for her and she agrees to them, you'll abide by them as well. No interfering."

"What plans for me?" Mari demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You've three options, Mariketa. First, deny you cast the spell. Second, admit the truth and remove it. Or third, for the duration of our adventure here you'll vow no' to use magick near—or at—me again and you'll prepare to have yourself a mate."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Long and short—I'll provide food for you, I'll protect you, and you'll do whatever I tell you." As she sputtered, he said, "I think once you've experienced what it's like to have me—an overpowering, commanding Lykae—ordering you about, you'll do whatever's necessary to get rid of me."

"I already want to get rid of you!" she cried. "I'd take a freaking incubus over you, and I'd take him with a cheery smile and hello kiss."

"Ach, you wound, witchling," he said, sounding not the least wounded.

"Even had I done what you're accusing me of, I don't know how to reverse it. You've seen firsthand how little control I have over my powers."

"Necessity is the mother of invention. If you get sick enough of me, I'm sure you'll figure something out. Or you can simply deny that you've done this."

"Mari, just tell him you didn't do it," Tera said.

She couldn't! "I don't believe I did. But I... I can't make a vow to that."

"Then you've only two other options. Decide." To Rydstrom, he said, "You gain a feast and another male to guard her—if you do no' interfere when I treat her as mine."

Mari glanced around the cave. They're considering it! All but Cade, who had a calculating, unsettling look in his eyes. "You people have all gone mad. I despise him." She met MacRieve's eyes and snapped, "If you think I'll sleep with you, you're cracked, deranged."

"I have no need to compel you to sleep with me," he interrupted, his tone so smug. "That is no' part of this deal."

"I will never agree to this. Never—"

"Before you decide," MacRieve interrupted, "know that if you were my mate, I'd make sure you had whatever you needed to be comfortable." Her lips parted when he pulled her bag from behind him and proceeded to dig through it. "Like your toothbrush." He held up her pink toothbrush.

He'd retrieved her things from her car? And rooted through her personal possessions.

She'd seen MacRieve's ferocity, and now she was getting a good glimpse of his sly side, his tricksy side. She could see what Rydstrom had been talking about. MacRieve seemed... wolfish.

Then she remembered what else she had in her bag. Oh, great Hekate. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Mari had private things in there—rocket of the pocket-type private things. Like a tube of lipstick that wasn't really one.

"Or this." He carelessly flicked her birth control patch. "Doona know what it does, but I ken that people who use patches for whatever reason might be eager for a new one." He displayed her iPod next. "It's my understanding that females your age canna go long without listening to music or they become irrational and impossible to deal with. And how long's it been for you, then?" He drew out a blue-labeled bottle and shook it. "You had several bottles of Orangina in your Jeep. Must like it, do you no'?"

Not the Orangina! Her mouth watered even more.

"And here's your bit of Mayan gold that you're probably keen to hold on to." He held up the weighty headdress. Stunning.

She hazily remembered seeing it in the severed hand of an incubus, as if in offer, but she'd thought the piece had been lost into that crater. If MacRieve gave the incubi's headdress to her, it would be her first payment as a mystical mercenary.

No, resist him! To act like his mate? To follow his orders? She could resist the food and the Orangina. She could even resist gold, but there he went digging once more.

He'd find it. But maybe he wouldn't know what it really was—

"And your lipstick," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes. Oh, no, he knew, and he was playing with her. She was going to die of mortification!

Her face grew hot when he added, "You must be in sore need of this after three weeks without."

Playing with me... "Put my things back," she said between gritted teeth. "Now!"

"Come tae me, agree to my plans, and I will. It'll take us till Friday to reach civilization. Until then, I'll treat you as mine."

Food, dry clothes, a toothbrush, the absence of scalding humiliation...

"One day," she countered.

His tone firm, he repeated, "Till Friday."

As she hesitated for long moments, his demeanor seemed uncaring and aloof, as though he'd merely shrug if she said no. But when she studied him closely as he waited, she detected more.

Bowen MacRieve was holding his breath.

Whether she used magick against him or not, she wasn't going to be powerless in this exchange. For whatever reason, he wanted this arrangement badly. She could use that.

When she forced herself to rise, Cade asked her, "You're not really willing to go along with this? Sleep with him for some fish? Because if that's the case, wait half an hour for me to return with my catch."

"I've said sex is no' part of this deal," MacRieve grated. "Now, Cade, why would I bargain to get a female in my bed when I can scarcely keep them out of it?"

Mari raised her brows, knowing she was catching only the very surface of this conversation. She also sensed Cade was merely waiting for the time to strike.

As she crossed to MacRieve, he put her things back in her bag and smugly patted the ground beside him. She sank down farther away than indicated, but he simply dragged her closer. "She's accepted her lot," he told the others as he handed Mari a broad leaf covered in flaking fish. "Agree you will no' interfere on our journey." A rich, sliced avocado followed.

"Mariketa, you don't have to do this," Tera said, even as she kept eyeing the food.

Mari put her chin up. "No. I'll do it. If I survived something so distasteful as confinement with the incubi, I should be able to tolerate even a Lykae for a couple of days."

Tierney said, "Well, I'm not waiting for an engraved invitation." When he and Tera attacked the offering, Cade strode from the cave, looking murderous.

"I'll get back at you for this," Mari whispered to MacRieve. "I don't have to use magick to make you sorry for trying to humiliate me."

"I thought your 'tube of lipstick' might bring you round. And I dinna even have to turn it on."

Her cheeks burned anew. "Are you done?"

"Canna say." Moments passed, then he leaned down near her ear to murmur, "After you eat, I'm going to enjoy giving you a nice, long bath... "