Immortals After Dark 04 - Wicked Deeds on a Winters Night

violent, misguided way, he strived to make up for the loss. “So which is it?”
    “My brother thinks he wants Mariketa because she’s beautiful—”
    “Did he find her so when she was in that bloodthirsty witch state, strangling me?” Bowe snapped. “Or when she was blowing up that tomb and all its occupants.”
    “The girl was merely doing her job with the latter.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Witches are mercenaries—that’s just a fact of life—and I think the incubi wanted her to kill them. I believe that’s why they were shaking her when she was unconscious outside the entrance and why they were trying to give her that gold headdress. They wanted to pay her. Desperately.”
    To pay her with the gold piece that Bowe currently had in his pack.
    “Anyway, Cade probably did think her beautiful in that state. Unlike you, he likes that there’s something dangerous about her and that she has the potential for some serious destruction. Still, she’s not the one for him. Cade’s already seen the female that will be his, yet is in denial. Long story, but suffice it to say that the first time he spied her, he lost the power of speech for some moments.”
    “Cade will seize on the witch just to get even with me,” Bowe said.
    Seven hundred years ago, Cade had decided to attempt a bonny barmaid. He’d been hopeful. Instead, she’d crawled into Bowe’s bed. After a night of mead, Bowe hadn’t recalled that she was the prospective barmaid.
    In a dry tone, Rydstrom said, “Yes, naturally to get even. Obviously there could be no other enticement to want Mariketa.” Before he turned to go, he said, “Remember, make a decision. You would begin things with her with far fewer chances at forgiveness. And something tells me your witch isn’t the type to abide the indecision of a Lykae, one who can’t seem to conclude if he wants her or not.”
    When Bowe was alone once more, he found his heart pounding. Could he give himself up to the Instinct? To let his body and soul guide him, while ignoring what his mind told him?
    Could he ignore his past with Mariketa’s kind?
    What if he wasn’t contemplating giving up his will to the witch, but merely investigating every possibility as he had tirelessly for eighteen decades? Aside from Nïx’s prediction about the Hie, this was the most promising lead he’d ever had.
    His brows drew together as he recalled exactly what the Valkyrie had told him. “Through the Hie, you’ll have your mate.” Not that his mate would be returned to him or that Bowe would retrieve her. And she’d never actually said that Mariketa had cast an enchantment—only that she would remove it.
    Bowe swallowed. It was... possible .
    Hell, Rydstrom could be right—it could be too late. What if too much damage had already been done?
    No, Bowe knew females could be forgiving creatures. Lachlain had admitted to Bowe that in the crazed days after he’d been freed from torture, he’d treated Emma badly, and she’d been able to forgive him.
    Of course Lachlain had never entombed Emma.
    But Bowe had to believe that Mariketa could be coaxed to move past that. After all, she wasn’t immune to him, or she hadn’t been during their first encounter. When he remembered her body’s response to him, how wet she’d been as her hips rocked to his hand, he hissed an oath and palmed the front of his jeans.
    So how to exploit her weakness? He was sorely out of practice wooing. Since Mariah’s death, his only interaction with available females had been a sneer if they’d had the nerve to approach him. Yet he’d used to be called charming by females. Hadn’t he? He could scarcely remember women before Mariah.
    The sense of urgency that lashed him constantly over these long years now redoubled. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea that there was even the remotest chance that his mate was less than a mile from him—though in the form of an enemy who wanted him dead.
    Now that he had his strength back after weeks of being weakened, he wanted to run the night, but would never stray far from the prize he intended to take. Instead, he climbed to the mountain’s peak, surveying the surrounding area.
    From this vantage, he spied river after river unfolding to the east, then caught the scent of salt water. The Belizean coast wasn’t too far out of reach in that direction. To the west, he could see humans in fatigues swarming over the land like ants, continuing to riddle the countryside