Immortals After Dark 09 - Pleasure of a Dark Prince

you?” He shook his head. “Back in the day, I met a few gold-hungry conquistadors, and let’s put it this way—the fragility of conquistador ego canna be overstated.”
    “She was smart and kept her gold.” Lucia gazed down almost
fondly
. “How evil could she be?”
    “Does no’ matter. Let’s get what we came for.”
    With that, they began scouring every inch of the chamber, passing by more riches than he could ever have imagined. But they found no weapons.
    Finally, in a shadowy corner, he spied an archery quiver, coated with dust. Inside was a single arrow. Not gold. Not beautiful. But something about it drew him. He sensed…
power
. “Come, Lousha. I think I’ve found your dieumort.” He collected the battered quiver, brushing away the accumulated layers of dust.
    With a look of breathless excitement, she hurried to his side. Then her face fell. “No, this can’t be right.
Wood?
No way!”
    “Maybe you’re to fight an old evil with an old arrow?”
    When he drew it out, she said, “MacRieve, the arrowhead is
bone
! Look at those old-fashioned flights—were those feathers plucked from a dodo bird?”
    “Come, then, hold it.”
    She reluctantly accepted it from him. And her dark eyes widened.
    “You feel something with it, no? Some power?”
    “I do,” she admitted. “But wood and bone?”
    “Trusted stand-bys for euphemisms
and
arrows.”
    “MacRieve! It’d be like Serena Williams going to Wimbledon with a flyswatter.”
    “Aye, but if she were as good as you are at shooting, she’d still win.”
    At that, Lucia gave him a coaxed smile. “You’re right, werewolf. Schwag-looking arrow or not, I’ll take it.” She slipped it into her thigh quiver.
    In a solemn tone, he said, “You chose wisely.” Then he added, “I’m relieved it is no’ gold. I dinna want to alarm you, but my Instinct was screaming warnings about this. Now, we can take it without waking an ancient evil. So, as far as afternoons-after go, this is looking up.”
    She chuckled, leaping into his arms, kissing him soundly on the lips. “We did it!”
    He grunted. “Easy, lass, go easy on the ribs.”
    “Oh, sorry!”
    She slid down, and just that was enough to make even his battered body stir. With a steadying breath, he set her away. “Let’s get you out of here.” On their way to the entrance, he thought he heard something and turned back to the sarcophagus. “Did you hear that?”
    But she was already jogging ahead, chattering happily.
    “Wait, Lousha!” He would’ve been right behind her… but he could have sworn he’d heard something
moving
.

FORTY-THREE

    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. Shehad 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