Pleasure of a Dark Prince

Chapter 35

Garreth watched as Lucia ducked from Damiãno with uncanny speed, kicking out at the man’s knee. She’d bought a heartbeat’s time, scrambling away to another deck as Damiãno limped after her.

Knowing she was safe for a moment, Garreth dug in, swimming even harder. Yet he could eke out no lead on whatever was pursuing him. Had to be a caiman, but his mind struggled to wrap around the size of it.

He felt the motion of water behind him as it propelled itself forward, gaining. And without Lucia’s arrows whizzing past him in the air, more of the caimans were circling.

Almost to the boat! So close… Just then, the caiman began rising, sending a sharp wave of water fanning out, briefly lifting Garreth. How big was the fucking thing? When it breached the surface, Garreth felt its foul breath spraying water over his head and nape like a sprinkler.

Doona look back… doona look back. He could hear its ancient bones grinding and clicking as its jaws opened wide.

Garreth dove, dropping like a stone. When he reached the river bottom, he kicked against it with all his might and went hurtling to the surface, leaping for the boat. He landed on the platform, then sprang for the main deck just as teeth slammed down on the platform, biting out the middle.

With angry, almost sentient eyes, the caiman sank, disappearing into the black once more.

At once, Garreth lunged to his feet. “Lousha!” The storm boiled, lightning streaking the sky, thunder so loud it pained his ears.

“MacRieve?” She ran for him on the stern deck.

“Where’s Damiãno?”

“I don’t know—I lost him for a second.” Twisting around, eyes wary, she strapped her bow across her body. “What is going on? And why did you get in the water?”

“Lousha, the Barão. It’s a ghost ship.”

“What?”

“Everyone on board has been killed. Hacked to pieces. I thought it was Charlie at first, until I saw Damiãno.” Garreth grabbed her forearms. “I want you out of here!” The ship hurled up once more. “Goddamnit, why are those caimans attacking?”

“Schecter’s lure. It worked! But I can’t get to the front—”

“The creatures protect the Labyrinto,” Damiãno intoned from where he’d crouched directly above them. “As will I.”

The shifter leapt down with the machete, snagging Lucia by her neck, pressing the blade against her throat. “You’re not to enter the Labyrinth.”

Lucia dared a glance up at the male. His green eyes glowed with menace.

“Let her go!” MacRieve yelled. “Fight me!”

“You were never supposed to get this close. The tomb is forbidden to outsiders.”

“You’re the guardião?” Lucia demanded. The guardian Nïx had warned of.

Damiãno seemed unhearing. “You don’t know what evil sleeps in the Labyrinth. The Gilded One will rise.”

Her mind raced. The Gilded One? El Dorado was a man! An evil man?

“We’re no’ here to wake any evil!” MacRieve snapped.

Damiãno shook his head hard. “No one trespasses.”

In as calm a tone as Lucia could manage, she said, “Listen, Damiãno, we’re actually here to stop an evil from rising. Let’s just talk about this. We’re really on the same team.”

Easing nearer, MacRieve added, “If we doona go to Rio Labyrinto, there’s a god who’ll take over the earth.”

“There’s no evil greater than the Gilded One!”

“Bullshite!”

Lucia made a sound of frustration. “You two are going to argue about this? My evil’s bigger than your evil?”

“Damiãno, we’re speakin’ about a bluidy apocalypse!”

“As am I!” The male tightened his grip on her neck, pressing the blade into her skin.

MacRieve swallowed, still slipping closer. “Is that why you killed everyone on the other boat?”

Damiãno’s gaze darted. “What are you saying?”

“They’re all dead. All butchered. Likely with a machete.”

The shifter stared down at the blade, muttering, “It’s begun—”

Seizing the moment, Lucia went limp, dropping down, driving her elbow into his stomach. She ducked out of the way for MacRieve to strike.

The Scot did, tackling Damiãno. They crashed into a wall, cracking the wood supports, sending Damiãno’s machete clattering across the deck into the water.

The shifter roared, heaving back, charging MacRieve.

She’d drawn her bow free and nocked an arrow but hesitated. Both battled for the upper hand, each grappling for a hold on the other. They were spinning so fast, it was a blur. If she shot MacRieve…

“Lousha, the lure. Cut it loose!”

MacRieve wanted her to leave him?

“Go, Valkyrie!”

The caimans were still circling. If Damiãno didn’t get MacRieve, the caimans could get all of them. And Lucia believed the Scot could—and wanted to—defeat this foe.

So she forced herself away, dashing to the forward anchor. At the bow, she squinted down the length of the anchor chain, finally spotting the line for Schecter’s lure—the line that was now tangled around the chain, pulled taut, and hanging five feet out of her reach. All around it, caimans clashed to reach a mad scientist’s box of nothing.

Lying on her front, she hooked a foot around a railing post, suspending herself. Staring down into a tempest of snapping jaws, she stretched with her fingers splayed. Just out of reach. With a swallow, she relaxed her foot an inch… Almost… got it!

She hauled it up, shimmying her body back until she was safe on the deck. With no time to breathe a sigh of relief, she darted to her feet, swinging the line round and round like a bola, flinging it down the river. When the current began carrying it away, some of the smaller creatures turned to the signal. The big ones seemed to be committed, lurking—as if they expected a meal.

As she ran back to MacRieve, she passed Schecter huddled in a corner of the galley, babbling with a butcher knife in hand. His pants reeked of urine. Charlie must’ve taken the injured Travis back into his cabin. Can’t think about that…

When she returned to the fight, Damiãno and MacRieve had both begun to turn, the beasts within them spurred to the fray. Their bodies grew, muscles expanding, rippling with power.

Damiãno’s irises deepened to a fervent green. His fangs and claws elongated to wickedly sharp points. Patches of sleek black fur appeared.

MacRieve’s own beast flickered over him, his eyes gone ice blue with rage, his onyx claws flaring, but he hadn’t turned fully. Why not? This was no time for mercy!

Comprehension struck. Oh, Freya—MacRieve was prevented from turning by the cuff he wore!

With a chilling roar, Damiãno sank his canines into MacRieve’s arm. Blood spurted. MacRieve bellowed in pain, slashing his claws over Damiãno’s face, cleaving skin to the bone.

Gushing blood from his wounds, Damiãno barreled into MacRieve’s chest, crashing them into the side railing. They splintered the wood to pieces, then plunged into the murky river below.

They didn’t surface. Thirty seconds passed, then a minute. The longest of her entire life—

The pair shot up in the water, still in a fight to the death. She took aim at Damiãno, but they were too fast, sloshing water up with each blow. Might hit MacRieve.

So she took up her vigil, shooting as many caimans as she could, but the big one was returning. She could see her earlier arrows jutting from its plated tail and back, yet it wouldn’t rise for her to take its eyes.

Though she shot continuously, it never slowed. “MacRieve!” she screamed. “It’s coming back!” She took another bead on Damiãno—

The stern of the ship reared up; she flipped back, crashing into the auxiliary boat. By the time she staggered back to her feet, she could only watch in horror as the giant caiman’s tail whipped through the air, knocking both men into the depths.