Immortals After Dark 09 - Pleasure of a Dark Prince

charismatic…
or
Bad dogs get no burgers
? “It’s from Regin.”
    “Ah, the glowing frea— one. Loved to shove me around when I was tranquilized, though I’d fought side by side with her when I saved you and your sisters from the vampires.”
    Feeling the urge to whistle with guilt, Lucia studiously unstrung her bow and stowed it back in its travel case.
    “Before I left New Orleans last year,” he continued, “I learned much about your kind. Nigh everything about your coven. Why are you and Regin such good friends? Most people think she’s completely—” At her look of warning, he finished with, “A handful.”
    “What have you heard?”
    “She makes rogue demons eat things, like hubcaps.”
    A lot of Loreans had that idea about her, probablybecause Regin had gone through that whole making-her-enemies-eat-things stage. Beer bottles, soccer balls, garbage can lids. “First of all, that was a
phase
, and she’s past that now.” Mostly. “And second, those demons never messed with her again.”
    “You make excuses for her?”
    “She was built for war, but she has a highly developed sense of”—
lowbrow—
“humor. Add those together…”
And season with guilt.
Though Regin’s kisses were like drugs, addictive like heroin, she’d kissed a berserker when she was young. Aidan the Fierce. He had been killed trying to win her over, but for centuries, he’d been reincarnated, seeking her again and again.
    “Besides,” Lucia added, “Regin and I have a history.” In the past, when Lucia had gone to the Broken Bloody One’s cliff-side cave, Regin had always been there with her, a sister-at-arms.
    But hunting Cruach wasn’t like hunting a hibernating bear. She and Regin didn’t go inside the cave. Instead they waited for him at the bone-strewn entrance of his lair. Right as he was about to emerge, they attacked.
    The first time he’d tried to rise, he’d come forth roaring, stamping like a bull, thinking his hideousness would frighten some young Skathian assassin and foul her aim. Lucia had shot true, though afterward she’d shuddered and wept, and Regin had gone to her knees in horror, vomiting energy.
    The second time, Cruach had summoned hundreds of his Cult of Death followers, his Cromites, to guard the exit and assure him safe passage out. But as Reginhad battled the swordsmen back, Lucia’s arrow had found Cruach’s black heart.
    This third time, Lucia had no idea what to expect, though she feared she’d be hunting the bear
in
his cave. Could she force herself to enter that lair once more? And all alone?
    Lucia knew that MacRieve wrongly believed he was going with her. Even if they worked together to retrieve the dieumort, she could never let him near Cruach. Nor could she risk Regin getting too close.
    Cruach could infect them. Lucia—as his wife—was immune….
    “What are you thinking of that’s got you so pensive?” he asked, his words accompanied by distant thunder.
    More steely gray clouds were building all around them. “I was just thinking that you ought to be more charitable to Regin.”
    “Why’s that?” he asked.
    “If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t have a mate. I was sixteen the first time she saved my life. She has countless times in battles ever since.”
    After digesting that for a moment, MacRieve said, “Regin has no love lost for me.”
    “No.” Had she just felt a raindrop? “But your brother probably feels the same about me.”
    “Maybe. Then again, I dinna shoot your sister.”
    Lucia studied a splinter on the rail, grumbling, “I only winged him.” A mere shot through the arm.
    “Lousha, look just there!” MacRieve said, taking her shoulders and turning her toward a far bank.
    She spied several otters with white dappled throats—but these creatures were
giant
, as long as MacRieve was tall. One ravaged a catfish while others snuggled atop a log, cooing to squeaking pups.
    “It’s a family of river otters. Also known as
lobos del río
.”
    Ignoring the drizzle that had just started, she asked, “River wolves?”
    “Aye.” When the rain intensified, MacRieve took her shoulders and turned her back to him. “Since you’re partial to wolves you should appreciate them.” He reached forward to stroke the backs of his fingers across her cheek, and his golden eyes promised wicked things.
    “Am I partial to wolves?” she asked, her breaths shallowing.
    Just like that first night so long ago, his voice went low and rumbly as he said,