Pleasure of a Dark Prince

Chapter 46

“I haven’t seen a punch like that in ages,” Lucia said as she entered the wheelhouse. Chizabel was piloting the boat into a dramatic orange sunset.

The already cracked windshield had been no match for caiman attacks, and now as the wind streamed in, her long black hair flowed behind her. Izabel was so feminine; you’d never know she was half-man.

“And then when Doc Rossiter kept beating Schecter?” Izabel said. “I never knew the expression beating the piss out of someone was literal.”

“I meant to step in and break it up sooner. Really I did,” Lucia said. “So where’s Travis?”

“Capitão’s sleeping in his cabin. Rossiter shot him up with some morphine.”

The doctor had wanted to examine MacRieve as well, but Lucia had insisted his wounds were superficial, assuring Rossiter, You’ll see him up and running in no time.

“Is MacRieve still alive?”

“He’s resting, too.” The Scot had been passed out again but was regenerating nicely. “Prognosis is good.”

Izabel raised her brows at that. All the humans had thought he was surely at death’s door.

Lucia guessed she and Izabel would dance around the subject of her being part man a little longer. So she stared at the sun over the water. As distraught as she’d been just this morning, Lucia was now filled with hope.

In her possession was a dieumort, which moved her one step closer to freeing herself from Cruach. And one step closer to a future with MacRieve, the Lykae who’d somehow gone from enemy to lover to love of her life.

But she wasn’t prepared for MacRieve just yet. Earlier, on the ride back to the Contessa, Lucia had feared he would ask her to marry him. Though it wasn’t necessarily the Lykae way, he’d told her she’d be his wife one day. And if he’d proposed, what could she have said? Rain check? Let me get back to you when I’m a widow.

Now, in a matter of days, she could return to the Scot—free at last. Free of Skathi and Cruach. “How much longer until we get back?” Lucia asked.

“Four days. Max.”

“You know the way?”

Izabel glared. “Better than anybody on this river,” she answered. “So Capitão told me about your night. Damiãno really attacked you? I knew he was louco!”

“In a big way.”

“Travis said the robed men were religious fanatics after some relic you and MacRieve found.”

“That’s it exactly. I’m just glad we made it out alive.” Lucia pulled up another stool. “So, last night was revealing in a lot of ways.” Rossiter was a hero, Schecter a criminally irresponsible scientist, Izabel part… guy. “You want to tell me what’s going on? Are you human?”

Izabel gazed around as if she were being pranked. “Uh, yes. I am. Is there another option?”

Lucia answered with a question: “So do you know why you’re… like you are?”

“I was cursed by what I can only figure was an evil woman. Voodoo, Santeria, who knows?” She frowned. “How come you’re not freaking out?”

“I was rattled at first. But I’ve always believed in the supernatural, so I got over it soon enough,” Lucia answered. “So when did Izabel Carlotta became Isabel and Charlie?”

Izabel sighed. “Two years ago, I’d just gotten dumped by my first love, and I was drinking and wished with all my heart that I knew why men thought the way they did. This strange, mesmerizing woman told me she could answer my question. The next morning I woke up hungover. Oh, and a man.”

Evil sorceress, had to be.

“I came to the Amazon, hoping to find a cure or an explanation.”

A cure wasn’t likely. Sorceress spells tended to stick, unless lifted by another one of equal or greater power. Lucia knew a witch—Mariketa the Awaited, a party-hearty mercenary of the Wiccae—who could possibly nullify it, but she’d had her hellacious powers bound for fifty years, until she could better handle them. Izabel was doubtless stuck like this for the duration.

“Can you switch back and forth at will?” When Izabel nodded, Lucia asked, “Are you going to tell Travis? It’s only a matter of time before he figures it out.”

Izabel’s eyes watered. “He’ll never understand. I’m leaving as soon as I get him to the hospital.”

Poor girl. Before she would’ve been thrilled that Izabel was leaving Travis. Now Lucia resented the fact that the girl felt she had to.

What’s with all the sympathy I’m feeling for humans? Maybe Lucia should open up a stray shelter for mortals. Feed them kibble. “Iz, you need to give him a chance. He might surprise you.”

“It’s not that easy. You see, ‘Charlie’ needs love, too. And Travis… there’s just no way.”

“If you can change back and forth, then just stay in your female form.”

“It makes me sick when I don’t change into Charlie enough and vice versa.”

“That’s why Charlie was often pale.” Now that Lucia thought back, she recalled both twins had dressed in the same plain T-shirts and cargo pants. Iz had worn baggy clothes in case she’d had to transform into him without notice. “Can you change into Charlie right now?”

“Yes, but I don’t take requests,” she quipped, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “You won’t tell Capitão, will you?” She looked utterly distraught at the idea of him knowing.

Lucia raised her brows. “You really think he’d believe me?”

“No, not in um milhão de anos, a million years,” she answered. “So are we still… friends?”

“Yes, we’re still friends, Chiz. Though I’m not going to change in front of you anymore or anything.”

Izabel gasped. “Oh, like Charlie would have your skinny ass, skank!”

“No, because Chuck digs the drunk dudes like his low-hanging-fruit sister.”

Izabel choked out a laugh, her expression startled. “First time I’ve ever been able to laugh about this!”

Then my work here is done. “Listen, if you’re ever in New Orleans, I want you to look me up. There’s some crazy stuff in that town, maybe we could find someone who knows what happened to you.”

Her eyes went wide. “Do you mean that?”

“Yeah. I’ll get you my number before we make port….”

As she exited down the companionway steps, Lucia met up with Rossiter. He’d showered and dressed—and still hadn’t slept.

“I was just looking for you,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to see to your husband?”

“What?”

“I could examine him.”

“Oh. MacRieve. He’s fine. It truly was only a graze. But thanks for the offer. And thank you again for keeping the ship afloat.”

He gave a rueful grin. “There was an element of self preservation at work.”

If he’d ever needed to rest, it’d be after that hellish night he’d just spent. But for him, there would be no succor in sleep, no oblivion. Again, sympathy rose in her. “Look, I’m sorry this expedition didn’t work out for you.”

With a shrug, he said, “Hey, I’ll live.” Then he almost stifled a grimace.

No, he wouldn’t. I don’t like humans, I don’t like humans…. As much as she inwardly chanted that to herself, she still had the mad urge to help this one.

Before she did something she’d later regret—like telling him Psst, you wanna become a myth like us? —Lucia said, “Um, got to go make a call.” Then she brushed past him.

As she headed for the stern deck, she dialed Nïx—and actually got her. She found the soothsayer lucid. Mostly.

“Nïx, I have some good news and some really shitty news,” Lucia said. Then she explained everything that had happened, finishing with, “So, uh, a jot of water might’ve gotten in the tomb.”

“Now who did you wake up?” Nïx asked in a confounded tone.

“The great evil. Gilded One. Ringing a bell?”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Nïx said. “For now, let’s stop at least one apocalypse. Aren’t you on the books for an attempted assassination soon? Where is that Post-it…?”

“Yes, Nïx, I’ll be back to port in four days. I need transportation, warmer clothes, jeans, and boots.”

“I’ll have a helicopter standing by in Iquitos, then a jet to the Northlands fueled and waiting with clothes and gear for you. Assuming I remember any of this.”

“Nïx!”

“Oh, oh, I do remember this one bit. You have to get the dieumort and get away from MacRieve.”

“I was already planning on ditching him, but why do you say so?”

“Because he’s intending to do just that to you. To go face Cruach—without you.”

“No, he wouldn’t!” He didn’t even know of her involvement. She’d thought if she could keep it hidden, she’d prevent something like this.

“Oh, but he would.”

Probably for some stupid noble reason like keeping her safe! Bastard! Besides the fact that this was her fight—and she’d waited a long time to destroy the Broken Bloody One—Cruach could infect MacRieve.

A plan arose for how to deal with the Scot. In fact, he’d been the one who’d given her the idea. I just have to break into Schecter’s cabin in the next four days….

“Nïx, put Regin at the ready,” Lucia said. As per usual, it would be Regin with the assist and Lucia shooting for the goal.

Not some werewolf with high-minded ideals. When all this was over, Lucia would come back to him and explain… something.

“Sadly, Regin’s going to have to rain-check the god killing and after party,” Nïx said. “Seems she’s just been abducted.”

“What?” Lucia stumbled. “Who would—who could—take her?”

“The details are unclear, but I’ve narrowed it down to about fifteen suspects, among them: aliens, a boy band, the CIA, and a berserker.”

As the rain poured outside the Contessa, Garreth dragged Lucia across his chest, her body relaxed from hours of sex. “It’s hard to believe we’re nearly to Iquitos,” he murmured. He’d gotten all his strength back—just in time. They’d arrive in port at first light.

“I’m almost sad to leave this ship, even after all we’ve been through.” She lazily traced her fingers over his mended chest. “And I already miss my butterfly.”

Though he’d assured her he could figure out a way to keep it, she’d gotten a strange look on her face. “I think Lucia Incantata needs her freedom.”

“I’m partial to this ship, too, lass,” he said. “I’ve spent some of the best nights of my life on this boat. And in this bed.”

She nodded against him. “Most definitely in this bed.”

He sifted his fingers through her hair, so wrapped up in her that he almost forgot his plan. Garreth intended to take her so long and hard this night that she’d pass out toward dawn, slipping deep into that near comatose state. Then he’d go to take care of business. “But you’ve been pensive for the last four days.” And the nightmares had been as bad as ever. He needed to help her and couldn’t.

She shrugged. “Probably just nerves over the upcoming battle. Plus, I’ll rest easier once we use the dieumort. I worry that more will come after it.”

In their hands was an archaic secret—kept hidden for millennia in a previously impenetrable site, guarded by creatures of legend—and now they’d brought it forth out into the world.

Each Lore faction had its own seers to direct them to a weapon like this, not to mention the assassins sent by the gods.

Garreth was more than ready to use it, too. This afternoon, he’d called Lachlain to make sure Bowen’s witch could scry for this god. Lachlain had been thrilled that Garreth had finally claimed his mate after so long, and had found the dieumort as well. Lachlain had been less thrilled that his younger brother had nearly been eaten by a snake.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Garreth!” he’d bellowed. “I’m goin’ with you on this mission. Bowen, as well.”

“No’ a chance.” After all the two of them had been through in the last year, Garreth refused to lay more trouble on their doorsteps. “Can the witch find my target, or no’?”

“Aye, she can still do many of the easier magicks. But you doona plan to deprive Bowen and me of a fight?”

Garreth had answered, “So as to no’ piss off a vampire queen and the most powerful witch ever to live? Oh, aye.”

“What are you planning?”

“Steal the arrow from Lousha, sneak off, shoot the god. Then I’ll come back with a present and an apology, promising she can shoot the next god.” Garreth had sounded far more confident than he actually was. He couldn’t predict if she’d forgive him—or if she’d disappear again.

But he didn’t feel like he had much of a choice. He could never risk her. Just having the weapon in their possession was a danger. He had to go, and he had to hope. Maybe if he could get some kind of commitment out of her….

“Things will change when we return, Lousha,” he said now. “But I trust no’ too much.” Cupping her face, he pressed kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, the tips of her ears. “I know you Valkyrie fancy marriages and such. So if you wanted to be my wife…” When she stiffened against him, he added in a surly tone, “Or no’, then. Only asked because my brother wed his mate.”

“Can we table this for now? And talk about it as soon as this killing is done—”

A man’s scream ripped through the air.

Lucia said, “I recognize that scream.”

Schecter. “He must’ve found another lizard in his cabin,” Garreth said. “He’s terrified of anything cold-blooded now. Almost as much as he’s afraid of Rossiter.”

The mortal Rossiter had seemed stoically resolved to his fate until Garreth had mentioned that another crew would likely go right back out to salvage the rich Barão and retrieve the bodies. If the doctor could hitch a ride, he’d only lose a month total. Only. For a mortal, a month was a long span. For a dying mortal, it was eternity.

Lucia sighed. “Okay, so maybe there are some things I won’t miss about the Contessa.” She leaned forward and kissed Garreth’s chin. “But I meant what I said, Scot. I want to talk with you about the future, just not yet.”

Hell, that was more than he’d expected. He relaxed once more, drawing her over his body. “I can wait. For now,” he said, talking a big game; Lucia was worth any wait.

She felt him hard against her and gasped. “Again?”

“Again.” The things I do for the sake of the world. “As many times as you’ll have me. I canna get enough of you, love.”

“MacRieve?” she murmured.

“Aye?”

Her hand shot forward, an oversized syringe in her fist.

Before he could react, he felt the sting in his neck as she injected him. “Lousha! Why?”

As he fought to keep his eyes open, she whispered, “I’m choosing you.”