Pleasure of a Dark Prince

Chapter 29

“That shoal jumped out o’ nowhere, eh, Travis?” MacRieve called up to the pilothouse. To Lucia, he muttered, “Is he trying to hit things?”

Travis was hung up on a sandbar again—the third time in as many days.

Lucia sighed. She and MacRieve had been enjoying a rare cloudless, and uneventful, morning together. She’d been sunning on a weathered lounge chair on the back deck while he’d unsuccessfully fished from the platform, spurred on by Izabel’s promise of seafood feasts.

Travis yelled down from the wheelhouse, “You think you could drive better, Scot?”

“Aye, even as drunk as you are, Tex!”

“MacRieve…” Lucia warned.

“Well, it’s true. He needs to lay off the spirits, or we’ll never get to our destination.”

She wished Charlie was at the helm, but he was on a sleep shift. The young man drove so much better than Travis, not that Charlie would ever admit that. Izabel’s twin seemed to hero worship the irascible Texan as much as she did.

Each foul-up like this set them back even further, and she was running out of time. The nightmares were getting worse.

“Looks like I’ll have to go shove the old girl free,” MacRieve said. “Again.” He stripped off his shirt, leaving him in his worn and faded jeans and his cuff. Shoes were a thing of the past aboard the Contessa.

That cuff stood out against his tanned skin, a constant reminder of what he’d done for her. Whenever he embraced her, she always felt the metal against her skin, cool at first on the outside, before it warmed.

Just like last night… “MacRieve, do you have to go in?” Though the river had been a source of delight—she’d seen pink dolphins, more otters, and tapirs grazing along the shores—it’d also been one of dismay. Caimans constantly prowled and piranhas broke the surface in feeding frenzies.

Just yesterday morning, they’d seen a baby heron fall out of its nest into the water. As the mother bird had squawked in dismay, a swarm of piranhas had annihilated the chick in seconds, picking it clean with their razor-sharp teeth, right down to the bones.

“Seems you’re finally believing me about the dangers?” MacRieve said. “Relax, I’m just going in up to my waist.”

“And what about the piranhas?”

“I doubt the fishies’ll snack on anything critical.” He leaned in to murmur at her ear, “They only go for small prey.”

“Werewolf!” she cried, still a shade surprised every time he teased her. More and more, he’d been softening toward her, his rancor over her past deeds fading. She’d see hints of the man he’d once been, the one she imagined each time she looked at his laugh lines. And when he wasn’t simmering with anger at her, she’d found he liked to play. “I’m serious.”

“As am I. Will it make you feel better if I keep my jeans on?” When she gave him a grudging nod, he said, “Doona worry. They truly will no’ feed on large prey—no’ unless it’s dead.”

When they saw Damiãno coming to the stern to help free the boat, she whispered, “Don’t look too strong in front of the others. And do not bow up to him again.”

“He did it first,” Garreth pointed out in a surly tone. Only three days had passed, and already the ship was too small for the two towering males.

“Good morning, querida.” Damiãno said to her as he drew off his own shirt, revealing a muscled, brawny body.

“Bom dia,” she replied with an absent grin.

As Damiãno strolled to the back platform, he returned her smile, white teeth against bronzed skin, then he dropped into the water. The man was sex on a stick—

MacRieve stepped in front of her, clasping her nape, jealousy ablaze in his expression. “Eyes on the prize, woman. It’s a werewolf you’ll have, or none at all.”

“Is that right?”

“Unless you like your men dead, because Damiãno’s already at the top of my list.” He tugged her to him for a brief but scalding kiss “You’re mine, Lousha. Doona ever forget that.”

With that, he leapt in as well, leaving her breathless—and convinced she had a thing for jealous alpha males, like this one who kissed as if each kiss were his last….

While those two were busy, Lucia thought she should take care of some shipboard business on the observation deck. She climbed the stairs, then crossed all the way to the back, to a patch of the thatched roof. Earlier, she’d heard rustling coming from within.

Now she spied a hideaway tucked up under the thatching, with two small bare feet sticking out from the edge. Izabel.

“What are you doing?”

Izabel exhaled testily. “Nada.”

Lucia peeked in and found what looked like a luggage shelf with a couple of feet of clearance. Izabel was lying flat up there. Following her example, Lucia hopped up, shimmying on her belly to the end. And found a hideout perfect for spying. From here, they could see the platform and the back uncovered deck, as well as the side gangways—a good bit of the ship.

“You’ve been spying on us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she demanded. “All you people are louco.”

“Crazy, are we? Well, aren’t you the sassiest little—”

“Latina?” She glared. “The spunky Portuguesa?”

Sassiest little mortal, Lucia had been thinking. “How are we all crazy?”

Izabel jutted her chin. “I don’t think you’re a doctor.”

Lucia shrugged. “I think you’re in love with a drunk.”

With narrowed hazel eyes, Izabel said, “I don’t think you’re even married to Mr. MacRieve.”

“Is that all you’ve got on me?” Lucia asked, relieved. She’d thought Izabel had discovered their true natures.

“If you and Mr. MacRieve are married, then I’ll eat Schecter’s shorts.”

“Now that was just… unnecessary. And why would you think that about us?”

“When you’re not looking, MacRieve reaches for you and pulls back his hand in a fist, like he’s dying to touch you.” He does? “Married people aren’t like that!”

“Then I’ll be honest with you, Izabel. We’re not married, but he’s… old fashioned. He didn’t want my reputation to be hurt when I shacked up with him aboard this ship. Anything else?”

“MacRieve keeps giving Travis cash, and we keep going off the planned route.”

This was true. The Scot had told Lucia that he’d been steering Travis, paying the captain to take them directly by Rio Labyrinto. “MacRieve has been here before and knows promising research areas.” The ship would arrive in the vicinity in a week or so, probably right after the full moon. She and MacRieve had decided not to lose the mortals; instead, they planned to sneak out on the Contessa’s auxiliary motorboat. “So he’s merely been directing Travis. Anything else?”

“That’s all I’ve got on you two. For now. But the others are just as strange.”

“Tell me.”

“Why should I?”

“Travis said to drop him a dime if you screwed up. Do you think he’d fire you for spying on his passengers? Maybe sack your brother as well, after all Charlie’s been putting up with?” Every day, the captain barked at the young man, ranting at him for repairing anything on board too well. Charlie was a good sport, quietly enduring each outburst. “Now tell me, or kiss your big Texan good-bye.”

With another glare, Izabel said, “Fine. Take Damiãno. He’s definitely louco.”

Lucia had to agree that something was off about the man, no matter how physically blessed he was. There was a seething intensity about him, much like MacRieve’s. Except that when Damiãno smiled, it never quite reached his eyes—and his eyes followed her constantly.

“He speaks Portuguese, right?” Izabel said. “So Charlie and I try to talk to him. But he speaks old Portuguese.”

“How do you mean?”

“It’s Portuguese like the conquistadors spoke.” That is strange. “And then he’ll see we’re frowning at him, and he’ll smile that magnificente smile.” She sighed. “Muito bonito.”

“Damiãno is hot,” Lucia murmured, then realized she’d spoken aloud. “And by that, I mean, I respect his mind.”

Izabel tapped her chin. “And Schecter?”

“Not so much with the hot.”

“Well, he—”

“Shh,” Lucia hissed. “He’s coming.”

With an aluminum case in hand, the professor slinked to the gangway—out of sight of the men laboring at the platform. His case was a Halliburton—the kind most often found handcuffed to a wrist, carrying missile codes inside. Lucia rolled her eyes.

After glancing both ways, he took out his “revolutionary” lure, which looked like an airplane’s black box attached to a rope. When he turned it on, a blinking red light on the top beeped sonic frequencies. They made her ears twitch until he dipped the device into the water.

Under her breath, Lucia said, “Hey, Iz—now’s your chance to eat his shorts.”

Izabel’s eyes widened, as if she were shocked Lucia was teasing her. Then she whispered, “Hold me back. That cowlick? Muito machão.”

Lucia couldn’t stop a grin.

When Schecter moved on to other parts of the ship, Izabel said, “That one’s keeping snakes, lizards, and all kinds of amphibians in his room. Poisonous ones, even. And that lure thing? I’m not a scientist, but common sense says that when you bait something, you better be able to handle its arrival.” Smart girl. “I know this ship up and down—it’s held together by prayers, duct tape, and Charlie—and it couldn’t take the visit of a ‘mega’ anything. So Schecter’s either very foolish or very selfish.”

Agreed. “What about Rossiter?”

“Now him, I like,” Izabel answered. “But he’s sick or something. Never sleeps. And I think he’s obsessed with flowers, always drawing them—”

Lucia’s phone vibrated then with yet another text message. She twisted around in the cramped space to view the screen. RegRad: Got 2 level 9/ ice wrld. U always do ice wrlds 4 me. Just as Lucia sighed—she missed Regin like crazy—another message from her arrived. Got thru it anywy. SO SUCK IT RAW!

“Who keeps texting you?” Izabel asked. “A twelve-year-old you met at the skating rink?”

“How do you say ‘har-har’ in Portuguese?” Lucia asked innocently, then she added, “It’s just one of my sisters. She misses me.” And resents my being away this long.

“How many sisters do you have?”

Hundreds. All over the world. “Enough,” Lucia answered.

“I wish I had a sister.”

“A twin brother isn’t enough?”

“I guess,” Izabel answered with a shrug.

Now that Lucia thought about it, she’d never seen the two display affection. Likely because they were so different. Izabel was brazen, confident. Charlie seemed unsure and awkward.

“Hey, do you feel that?” Izabel said. “They got the ship loose.”

Lucia glanced down just as MacRieve hauled himself from the water onto the platform, the damp muscles in his back flexing so temptingly. When he stood, shaking his wet hair in that wolfy way, his sodden jeans hung even lower on his sculpted torso.

Lucia’s claws curled for him. Just as she was thinking, Gods, he’s fine, Izabel whispered, “I’d lock that one down while you can. Esplêndido.”

The Scot was splendid. And sexy and funny. He knew how to string a recurve bow. Here was a man who treated her well, who’d proved he was understanding about her… limitations.

“Chuck!” the captain suddenly called. “Get your ass up here!”

Izabel jumped, knocking her head on the shelf. “I have to go!” Wide-eyed, she shimmied back.

“Why do you have to go?”

“To wake up Charlie.”

Travis yelled, “Izabel! Where the hell is Chuck?”

“See?”

Lucia couldn’t believe this girl had fallen for that querulous captain. To be stuck on this bucket, with no future, no prospects. She was so young…. “Izabel, you know there are other ships out there for you to work on. Ships that will treat you much better.”

Izabel met her gaze. “I’ll never want another ship as long as I live.” And then she was gone, leaving Lucia to her thoughts. Which almost always centered on MacRieve.

In the last three days, Lucia had begun to fear that she was settling in with him too easily. She’d been fooled once before, and even after all these years, she was still deeply ashamed of succumbing to Cruach’s trickery. Her sisters would have sensed he was evil.

Regin had. She’d taken one look at the fair-haired man at the portal and run to tell their godparents. Who’d made her swear never to see him again. Lucia had fallen right into Cruach’s clutches, trusting in him so completely that she’d broken those vows.

Am I being too trusting with the Scot? As if to remind her why that’d be unwise, the nightmares were coming every night. Only now, for the first time in her life, she was sharing a bed with another, a male who’d begun questioning her, wanting to know what she dreamed of—

“Lousha?” he called then, and she too hit her head. As she crawled from the shelf, Lucia could hear him stomping along the gangway, then to the cabin below.

Just before she’d reached the steps, he bounded up them. “Where were you?” he demanded, his eyes flickering blue.

“Right up here. You couldn’t scent me?”

He visibly relaxed, the tension easing from his broad shoulders. “It’s difficult to find you aboard a ship like this.” At her nonplussed look, he said, “I scent your bathing suit top drying on the clothesline by the galley.” He twined a lock of her hair around his finger. “I smell a strand from these curls up by the wheel-house. All around, I detect your scent. It’d almost be easier for me to find you from thirty or forty miles away.”

“I told you I wouldn’t leave. Don’t you trust me?”

“Aye, but I chased you for the better part of a year. Old habits die hard. It actually feels odd no’ to be running after you. Welcome, but odd.”

She tilted her head at him. “In all that time, did you… did you ever think about giving up?”

“Never.”

“Not once?”

His voice was so deep as he said, “Lousha, you’re my lass.” He shrugged, as if he spoke an irrevocable truth.

If I’m not careful, I might just prove him right….