Pleasure of a Dark Prince

Chapter 43

Lucia couldn’t stop a grin as she exited the tomb. The arrow might be unremarkable looking—hardly the golden one of her dreams—but she’d sensed its latent power.

In fact, Lucia had never felt the like.

Last night in the skiff, she’d thought she was finished. This morning she’d lost all hope; now she was back in the game and in a better position than she’d ever been. I’m going to destroy my nightmare. How many beings had that opportunity? To rid herself—and the world—of an abomination.

At the thought, her aggression, her darkness, surfaced, filling Lucia with the need for raw violence. She wanted to kill Cruach, to hurt him.

Her path was clear: journey to the Northlands where Cruach’s lair was located, meet up with Regin, then execute a god. All she had to do was lose MacRieve in Iquitos—

A vampire appeared out of thin air, not twenty feet from her.

Lothaire. Just there, standing in the canopy’s shade. She’d been right—he had been aboard the Barão. Though his face was expressionless, she sensed his menace. She had her bow up and her arrow shot so fast it was a blur, but he traced out of the way with incredible speed.

The arrow whizzed off into the distance.

I… missed. Preparing for the crippling pain, she shut her eyes and awaited it…. Still waiting. She cracked open her eyes. Nothing.

Because Skathi has no hold on me—

Suddenly, Lothaire did. He’d traced behind her, grabbing her around the neck in a tight choke hold.

Getting sick of males grabbing my neck!

In his thick Russian accent, he commanded, “Drop the bow, Valkyrie. Or I’ll trace you from this place.”

In the blink of an eye, he could teleport her to the Horde dungeons. She unwillingly tossed her bow beside her pack. “I knew it was you aboard the Barão.”

MacRieve exited the tomb just then. “Let her go.” His beast flickered, his fangs lengthening. Pale blue eyes evaluated, spying for any weakness in Lothaire.

“Come closer, and I’ll punish her,” the vampire said, so coolly. To Lucia, he asked, “You’re hunting for a dieumort?”

“Aye, take it,” MacRieve bit out. “Just doona hurt her.”

“I’m not here for that, but for something much more interesting. Back inside, Archer.”

She resisted. “Lothaire, we’re here to stop an apocalypse, a real end-of-the-world scenario.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, he said, “Take me to the Gilded One. Now.”

She hesitated until MacRieve gave her a quick nod. “Do it.”

Lucia saw no choice but to comply. With the vampire’s arm a constant pressure around her neck, she headed back inside to the chamber.

MacRieve followed, a continual low growl in his throat.

“Don’t you care that we’re averting an apocalypse?” she asked Lothaire. “Don’t you have anyone on this earth you’d prefer, oh, I don’t know, not to die?”

The pressure on her neck increased. At her ear, the vampire grated, “You don’t know me, Valkyrie.” His voice was low, ominous. “You don’t know what I care about.” So chilling.

“We’re not supposed to take any treasure or disturb the Gilded One,” she heedlessly continued. “Or else we’ll wake an ancient evil.” As soon as she spoke the words, she cringed. Like he would care—he was an ancient evil. He’d probably think, The more the merrier.

When they returned to the chamber, of all the treasures inside, Lothaire’s attention grew riveted to a plain golden ring—on La Dorada’s thumb. The one on her person.

“You can’t take that, vampire!” Lucia said. “If you remove anything from her body, we’ll all be doomed.”

“Will we?” Amusement. Never relinquishing his hold on Lucia, he reached down, snapping La Dorada’s thumb clean from her body.

Lucia gasped.

“Why that ring, Lothaire?” MacRieve demanded. “Of all these riches?”

“There’s no accounting for taste.” He shoved the finger and gold band into his pants pocket.

“Bastard! You can’t take that from here,” Lucia cried, still in his grip. “You don’t understand—it will set off traps. We’ll all be killed.”

She felt Lothaire shrug behind her. “Then it’s fortunate that I can trace.”

“Not if I can help it.” She grabbed his arms, sinking her claws into them. “You’re not taking that ring, vampire!”

“Lousha, no! Doona fight him!” As MacRieve charged for them, Lothaire’s hands flew up. Lucia felt pressure, then heard an uncanny crack.

Then came darkness.

As Garreth ran for her, he saw it all as if in slow motion.

With no hint of expression, the vampire calmly gripped her chin and the back of her head and snapped her neck. The pop of bone was deafening.

Lucia’s limp body dropped. With a roar, MacRieve tackled thin air; Lothaire had traced twenty feet down the corridor.

“I told you not to come closer,” the vampire said. “She’s been punished.”

Garreth bellowed in fury, but the vampire was already gone. At once, he heard whirring gears. The traps…

“Lousha, wake up, baby.” She couldn’t be killed like this. She couldn’t—but who knew in the Lore? He’d also never thought his cousin would marry a witch or that the Lykae queen would be a vampire!

From outside came the deep crackling sound of rocks breaking. The tomb began shaking, gold tiles raining from the ceiling. Garreth clutched Lucia’s limp body, cupping her lolling head, and tore down the corridor.

Once he reached the tomb entrance, he could barely see—stone dust filled the air. The levees were self-destructing! Walls were collapsing, water shooting through. With no mortar, they’d crumble like a sand castle.

The city was about to be wiped out. About to be bombarded with water, boulders, and four-ton anacondas.

Which left him with two choices: hole up in one of the temples, trying to shelter her body from the impact, or run for it with her, leaving her completely unprotected….