Immortals After Dark 04 - Wicked Deeds on a Winters Night

won’t let her get killed in the time it takes to boil water, okay?”

    Mari nearly trembled with excitement. This place was... Eden.
    Flowers with blooms as big as plates basked in the sun. Their scarlet and yellow petals were so bright and flawless, they looked fake. Shallow pools cascaded softly down, one after the other. The water was turquoise, and each basin was surrounded by ferns or had islands of flowers dotting it.
    She wondered if anyone had ever hoped for an oasis—not from the sun, but of the sun —and then been rewarded like this.
    After MacRieve and Rydstrom had started off to make a fire, she and Tera had torn into the pack—Tera for soap and shampoo and a borrowed change of clothes, and Mari for her bathing suit.
    Just before she’d lain out in her suit—a black string bikini—she’d had a moment of uncharacteristic wavering. Aside from MacRieve, no one had seen her dressed in so little in years. The triangles on top were narrow, and though the back was not quite a thong, it was close.
    And she wasn’t exactly svelte.
    Before, she’d never been ashamed of the curves most women would aspire to aerobicize away. She’d made a deal with herself her senior year in high school. She’d diet the minute her bikini-clad body failed to stir the shorts of at least one of the hot guys at the beach.
    If it ain’t broke...
    When the sun beckoned, she’d recalled MacRieve’s reaction to spying her naked and shucked her towel.
    Now as Tera lay out with her hair coated in conditioner, Mari unbraided her own hair, listened to her iPod, and enjoyed rays. In this place, her entire outlook from the morning shifted.
    She still couldn’t believe she’d been so worried about the prediction. Seek to lock her away? Nothing could hold her! Not an immortal warrior or a tomb of incubi.
    Here she was free, when she’d thought she’d die in that place. Soon she’d see her friends again. She’d sing more really bad karaoke with Regin and Carrow at the Cat’s Meow—and she’d do it without her cloak. Anonymous, cloaked karaoke just didn’t hold the same thrill.
    And on this trip, she had accomplished something monumental by taking out the incubi. She might not have won, or even finaled, in the Hie, but when she returned to New Orleans she wouldn’t walk, she’d strut.
    Everyone had been awaiting? Well, Mari had just annihilated a thousand-year-old source of evil. Boo-yah for the captromancer!
    No one could ever take that away from her. She’d destroyed ancient evil; her regret for the incomplete in that Civics 101 class just didn’t have the same bite.
    Then, the best part of this whole scenario—she’d been paid for it. Many factions in the Lore shared collective property, but the witches were the opposite—everything in the covens was about private ownership. “Share and share alike” might be the Valkyrie’s motto, but the witches’ was “Mine is mine .” Mari was expected to carry her own weight.
    Now she would in gold .
    She was officially a mystical mercenary, at last an earner in the House. Earlier, she’d rechecked MacRieve’s pack just to make sure the headdress was inside, and had frowned to see he’d carefully wrapped it in a towel, as if to keep it protected for her...
    Though MacRieve continued to irritate, confuse, and frustrate her, the ego-building fact remained that he was one of the most gorgeous and compelling males she’d ever seen—and he couldn’t keep his paws off her.
    All morning she’d been treated to the sight of four choice males, and yet, if she fantasized about making love, it was MacRieve’s face she saw above her. Last night, she’d gotten a glimpse of what he’d be like as a lover.
    He’d be wild .
    For Mari, making love to Acton had always been pleasurable, but not earth-shattering. He’d never seemed to get crazed by his desire for her, had never taken her with a furious lust. She’d been happy with him, and she knew that sexual relationships were never perfect, but she had long craved intensity.
    Yet would MacRieve be too intense? Immortal males were known to be relentless lovers, but the Lykae were supposed to bite and scratch as well. And MacRieve was huge—in all respects.
    Why am I even thinking about this... ?
    She hadn’t noticed how often she’d been sneaking glances at him until he wasn’t available for her viewing purposes. How much longer would he and Rydstrom be?
    Big males talking amongst themselves. She would kill to be able to