Immortals After Dark 09 - Pleasure of a Dark Prince

shot. She released her volley…
    The demon’s muscles went rigid. He brushed three arrows aside like they were gnats. He
caught
the fourth.
    Incomprehension. She’d… missed?
No! How?
Ivo’s laughter echoed as the pain assailed her. She dropped to the floor from the sudden onslaught.
    Too much!
The remembered agony. Bones grinding… skin so tight.
    Her body twisted and her fingers clenched as a shriek was ripped from her chest, then another and another. Every window and light in the manor shattered all around them, raining daggers of glass, leaving them in darkness.
    Over the pain, she dimly heard a Lykae’s beastly roar answering in the distance….
    Annika unconscious. Regin fighting off two. Want to tell her to run. Ivo and the demon watching. Can’t move…
    Another roar, even closer. MacRieve? He’d heard her. Was he coming for her? Would he help her sisters?
    Through the chaos, she caught sight of movement across the murky room. White fangs and pale blue eyes stood out against the blackness, but she could barely see him through the dust and haze of her tears.
    Then lightning illuminated him, and she recoiled, her pain redoubling.
Can’t be him… can’t be.
    He was massive, even more towering than before, his fangs and dark claws longer and sharper. A shadow of a ferocious beast flickered over his body.
    MacRieve. A monster from legend.
    As he crept over to where she shook on the floor, she gritted her teeth but couldn’t move, crippled by the pain.
    Crouching over her, he reached for her face with his huge hands. When his claws glinted like onyx, she flinched. What would he do… ?
    He’s trying… to pat my tears?
“Shh, female.” He scooped her into his arms while she stared up with dread. “Do no’ fear me.” His voice was guttural, his ice-blue eyes burning with possession.
    In an instant, she comprehended two things: why immortals feared the Lykae.
    And that she was this one’s mate.
    “Protect you.”
    Yes, he could never hurt her, would believe he’d been born to safeguard her life. “And my sisters,” she weakly bit out.
    He gazed at the door, clearly wanting to remove her from the threat—
    “Please, Lykae… fight these vampires.”
    Finally, a jerk of his chin. He carried her out of the way, gently tucking her behind a table. In that beastly voice, he grated,
“I’ll give you… their throats.”
He gazed at her with such longing, but she was horrified to see him completely turned. He knew it, could see—she was in too much pain to hide her disgust.
    He twisted from her and reared up with an awing fury against the vampires. After recovering from her-surprise, Regin teamed up with the Lykae, each facing off against a vampire. The demon vampire held back, guarding an enthralled-looking Ivo.
    There was no contest against MacRieve. With dizzying speed, he lunged forward before the vampire could trace a retreat, snapping his jaws closed on his opponent’s neck. Bones cracked and arteries spurted as he ripped the vampire’s throat out.
    In a gruesome spray of gore, MacRieve spit it into the male’s shocked face. Then his Lykae claws sliced through the rest of the vampire’s neck cleanly. Head and body dropped to the crimson floor.
    MacRieve turned to Regin’s vampire next. She’d stabbed it several times, but it was tracing around her like crazy, materializing and vanishing, delivering blows. She couldn’t land a killing strike.
    Seeming to predict where the male would appear next, MacRieve sprang for the vampire. He tackled him between traces, pinning him to the floor. The Lykae’s head descended, and he savaged that one’s neck as well.
    In mere moments, the two enemies were decapitated.
    Confronted by a fully-turned, battle-maddened Lykae, Ivo and the horned one traced away,
fleeing
.
    As soon as the threat was gone, MacRieve sped to Lucia’s side, crouching with blood dripping from his fangs. She stared up with revulsion.
“No, no.”
Just like before, a handsome face concealed a monster.
    Delirious, shuddering, suddenly she was back in Cruach’s lair. The Broken Bloody One was above her, blood pouring from his gritted fangs, splashing into her eyes. Crimson pools and grisly leavings all around them.
I give you meat and wine, my love….
    “Lousha,” MacRieve grated, rousing her back to thepresent. “You’re… safe.” He tenderly skimmed the backs of his wet claws along her cheek.
    “No, get away… get away from me.”
    Brows drawn as if in pain, he rose