Pleasure of a Dark Prince

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 another, 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!”

With his harsh, beastlike voice, he rasped, “Woman, you are everything to me!” He wrapped her hair around his fist, forcing her to meet his frenzied gaze. “Why can I no’ be that for you? Let me claim you for my own. Choose me this night….”

His scent, his need. The wildness in her—that darkness she’d tried to hide, to extinguish—flared with a vengeance to meet his. As if she’d waited her entire life for this, just as he had.

Every cell in my body is telling me to do this… is answering him.

Against her neck, he grated, “How I’ve ached for you.”

She couldn’t catch her breath. Panting, trying to recall consequences, she struggled to remember exactly why this was so wrong, but her mind was shutting down.

Until all she could do was feel. I ache for you, too.

He cupped her breast, thumbed her throbbing nipple. That one burning touch sent her house of cards tumbling down. When she cried out with pleasure, another bolt of lightning struck. Then another. And another.

With a whimper, she grabbed the back of his head and yanked him in for a kiss.