Immortals After Dark 09 - Pleasure of a Dark Prince

flickered, his fangs lengthening. Pale blue eyes evaluated, spying for any weakness in Lothaire.
    “Come closer, and I’ll punish her,” the vampire said, so coolly. To Lucia, he asked, “You’re hunting for a dieumort?”
    “Aye, take it,” MacRieve bit out. “Just doona hurt her.”
    “I’m not here for that, but for something much more interesting. Back inside, Archer.”
    She resisted. “Lothaire, we’re here to stop an apocalypse, a real end-of-the-world scenario.”
    As if she hadn’t spoken, he said, “Take me to the Gilded One.
Now.
”
    She hesitated until MacRieve gave her a quick nod. “Do it.”
    Lucia saw no choice but to comply. With the vampire’s arm a constant pressure around her neck, she headed back inside to the chamber.
    MacRieve followed, a continual low growl in his throat.
    “Don’t you care that we’re averting an apocalypse?” she asked Lothaire. “Don’t you have anyone on this earth you’d prefer, oh, I don’t know,
not
to die?”
    The pressure on her neck increased. At her ear, the vampire grated, “You don’t know me, Valkyrie.” His voice was low, ominous. “You don’t know what I care about.”
So chilling.
    “We’re not supposed to take any treasure or disturb the Gilded One,” she heedlessly continued. “Or else we’ll wake an ancient evil.” As soon as she spoke the words, she cringed. Like he would care—he
was
an ancient evil. He’d probably think,
The more the merrier.
    When they returned to the chamber, of all the treasures inside, Lothaire’s attention grew riveted to a plain golden ring—on La Dorada’s thumb. The one
on her person
.
    “You can’t take that, vampire!” Lucia said. “If you remove anything from her body, we’ll all be doomed.”
    “Will
we
?” Amusement. Never relinquishing his hold on Lucia, he reached down, snapping La Dorada’s thumb clean from her body.
    Lucia gasped.
    “Why
that
ring, Lothaire?” MacRieve demanded. “Of all these riches?”
    “There’s no accounting for taste.” He shoved the finger and gold band into his pants pocket.
    “Bastard! You can’t take that from here,” Lucia cried, still in his grip. “You don’t understand—it will set off traps. We’ll
all
be killed.”
    She felt Lothaire shrug behind her. “Then it’s fortunate that I can trace.”
    “Not if I can help it.” She grabbed his arms, sinking her claws into them. “You’re not taking that ring, vampire!”
    “Lousha,
no
! Doona fight him!” As MacRieve charged for them, Lothaire’s hands flew up. Lucia felt pressure, then heard an uncanny crack.
    Then came darkness.
    As Garreth ran for her, he saw it all as if in slow motion.
    With no hint of expression, the vampire calmly gripped her chin and the back of her head and snapped her neck. The pop of bone was deafening.
    Lucia’s limp body dropped. With a roar, MacRieve tackled thin air; Lothaire had traced twenty feet down the corridor.
    “I told you not to come closer,” the vampire said. “She’s been punished.”
    Garreth bellowed in fury, but the vampire was already gone. At once, he heard whirring gears.
The traps…
    “Lousha, wake up, baby.” She couldn’t be killed like this. She couldn’t—but who knew in the Lore? He’d also never thought his cousin would marry a witch or that the Lykae queen would be a vampire!
    From outside came the deep crackling sound of rocks breaking. The tomb began shaking, gold tiles raining from the ceiling. Garreth clutched Lucia’s limp body, cupping her lolling head, and tore down the corridor.
    Once he reached the tomb entrance, he could barely see—stone dust filled the air. The levees were self-destructing! Walls were collapsing, water shooting through. With no mortar, they’d crumble like a sand castle.
    The city was about to be wiped out. About to be bombarded with water, boulders, and four-ton anacondas.
    Which left him with two choices: hole up in one of the temples, trying to shelter her body from the impact, or run for it with her, leaving her completely unprotected….

FORTY-FOUR

    Howler monkeys screeching. Boulders knocking together. The very ground quaking.
    In and out of consciousness, Lucia dimly perceived that MacRieve had her in a fireman’s hold, spread over his shoulder, hanging upside down. He’d yelled, “Oh, fook this!” snatched up her gear, and then he’d taken off running.
    With his every step, pain spiked through one spot in her neck. The rest of her body was numb.
    As he sprinted