Immortals After Dark 04 - Wicked Deeds on a Winters Night

her inner thigh, sending an unexpected shot of pleasure through her. She had to stifle a shiver.
    It was only after she felt a whisper of touch over her hair that she got her wits again. “Like I’m supposed to believe there’s a scorpion and it just happens to be in the tunnel we’re crawling in and then in my hair? Any other creature-feature props you’d like to reference? Is there a mummy’s hand tangled up in there? I’m really surprised you didn’t go with ‘classic tarantula.’”
    His arm shot out between her legs—again—jostling against the front of her body as he tossed something in front of her. Something with mass. She held her lantern farther forward—
    The sight of a scorpion as big as her hand had her scrambling back... wedging herself firmly against MacRieve—a very awkward position to be in with anyone, but especially with a werewolf.
    He stiffened all around her. Every inch of him. She felt his arms bulging over her shoulders and his chiseled abs taut over her back.
    His growing erection strained thick against her backside. So the rumors about werewolf males are true, she thought dazedly. Exhibit A is quite insistent.
    “ Move forward, ” he said, grating the words. He was breathing heavily right over her ear.
    “No way. Kind of between a scorpion and a hard place here.” She bit her lip, wishing one of her friends had heard her say that.
    He eased back from her. “I killed it,” he said between breaths. “You can pass, just doona let it touch you.”
    “Why do you care?” She frowned to find herself feeling chilled without him over her.
    “Doona. A sting will slow you down. And I’m behind you, remember?”
    “Like I’m going to forget that anytime soon.” Then his callous words sunk in. “Hey, werewolf, aren’t you supposed to gnaw on your prey or play with it with shuffling paws or something? Want me to save it for you?”
    “I could put it back where I found it, witch.”
    “I could turn you into a toad.” Maybe an exploded toad.
    Without warning, he fingered the small, black tattoo on her lower back. “What does this script mean?”
    She did gasp then, as much from the shock of his touch there as from her visceral reaction to it. She wanted to arch up to his hand and couldn’t understand why. She snapped, “ Are you done groping me? ”
    “Canna say. Tell me what the marking means.”
    Mari had no idea. She’d had it ever since she could remember. All she knew was that her mother used to write out that mysterious lettering in all of her correspondence. Or, at least her mother had before she’d abandoned Mari in New Orleans to go on her two-hundred-year-long druid sabbatical—
    He tapped her there, impatiently awaiting an answer.
    “It means ‘drunk and lost a bet.’ Now keep your hands to yourself unless you want to be an amphibian.” When the opening emerged ahead, she crawled heedlessly for it and scrambled out with her lantern swinging wildly. She’d taken only three steps into the new chamber before he’d caught her wrist, spinning her around.
    As his gaze raked over her, he reached forward and pulled a lock of her long hair over her shoulder. He seemed unaware that he was languidly rubbing his thumb over the curl. “Why hide this face behind a cloak?” he murmured, cocking his head to the side as he studied her. “No’ a damn thing’s wrong with you that I can tell. But you look fey. Explains the name.”
    “How can I resist these suave compliments?” He was right about the name though. Many of the fey had names beginning in Mari or Kari.
    She gave his light hold on her hair a pointed look, and he dropped it like it was hot, then scowled at her as if she were to blame.
    “Right now you’re working your spells, are you no’?” He actually leaned in to scent her.
    “No, not at all. Believe me, you’d know.”
    As if he hadn’t heard her, he continued, “Aye, you are.” His expression was growing more savage by the instant. “Just as you were born to do.”
    But for some reason she wasn’t afraid. She was... excited. He must have seen something in her eyes that he didn’t like, because he abruptly turned from her.
    As he surveyed their surroundings, she scrutinized him, searching for a single thing about his appearance that she didn’t find sexy—and failing.
    All immortals were “frozen” into their immortality when they reached the peak of their strength and were best able to survive. But MacRieve had turned later than