Immortals After Dark 09 - Pleasure of a Dark Prince

machete
.”
    The shifter stared down at the blade, muttering, “It’s begun—”
    Seizing the moment, Lucia went limp, dropping down, driving her elbow into his stomach. She ducked out of the way for MacRieve to strike.
    The Scot did, tackling Damiãno. They crashed into a wall, cracking the wood supports, sending Damiãno’s machete clattering across the deck into the water.
    The shifter roared, heaving back, charging MacRieve.
    She’d drawn her bow free and nocked an arrow but hesitated. Both battled for the upper hand, each grappling for a hold on the other. They were spinning so fast, it was a blur. If she shot MacRieve…
    “Lousha, the lure. Cut it loose!”
    MacRieve wanted her to leave him?
    “Go, Valkyrie!”
    The caimans were still circling. If Damiãno didn’t get MacRieve, the caimans could get all of them. And Lucia believed the Scot could—and
wanted
to—defeat this foe.
    So she forced herself away, dashing to the forward anchor. At the bow, she squinted down the length of the anchor chain, finally spotting the line for Schecter’s lure—the line that was now tangled around the chain, pulled taut, and hanging five feet out of her reach. All around it, caimans clashed to reach a mad scientist’s box of nothing.
    Lying on her front, she hooked a foot around a railing post, suspending herself. Staring down into a tempest of snapping jaws, she stretched with her fingers splayed. Just out of reach. With a swallow, she relaxed her foot an inch…
Almost… got it!
    She hauled it up, shimmying her body back until she was safe on the deck. With no time to breathe a sigh of relief, she darted to her feet, swinging the line round and round like a bola, flinging it down the river. When the current began carrying it away, some of the smaller creatures turned to the signal. The big ones seemed to be committed, lurking—as if they
expected
a meal.
    As she ran back to MacRieve, she passed Schecter huddled in a corner of the galley, babbling with a butcher knife in hand. His pants reeked of urine. Charlie must’ve taken the injured Travis back into his cabin.
Can’t think about that…
    When she returned to the fight, Damiãno and MacRieve had both begun to turn, the beasts within them spurred to the fray. Their bodies grew, muscles expanding, rippling with power.
    Damiãno’s irises deepened to a fervent green. His fangs and claws elongated to wickedly sharp points. Patches of sleek black fur appeared.
    MacRieve’s own beast flickered over him, his eyes gone ice blue with rage, his onyx claws flaring, but he hadn’t turned fully.
Why not?
This was no time for mercy!
    Comprehension struck. Oh, Freya—MacRieve was prevented from turning by the cuff he wore!
    With a chilling roar, Damiãno sank his canines intoMacRieve’s arm. Blood spurted. MacRieve bellowed in pain, slashing his claws over Damiãno’s face, cleaving skin to the bone.
    Gushing blood from his wounds, Damiãno barreled into MacRieve’s chest, crashing them into the side railing. They splintered the wood to pieces, then plunged into the murky river below.
    They didn’t surface. Thirty seconds passed, then a minute. The longest of her entire life—
    The pair shot up in the water, still in a fight to the death. She took aim at Damiãno, but they were too fast, sloshing water up with each blow.
Might hit MacRieve.
    So she took up her vigil, shooting as many caimans as she could, but the big one was returning. She could see her earlier arrows jutting from its plated tail and back, yet it wouldn’t rise for her to take its eyes.
    Though she shot continuously, it never slowed. “MacRieve!” she screamed. “It’s coming back!” She took another bead on Damiãno—
    The stern of the ship reared up; she flipped back, crashing into the auxiliary boat. By the time she staggered back to her feet, she could only watch in horror as the giant caiman’s tail whipped through the air, knocking both men into the depths.

THIRTY-SIX

    Lucia’s heart dropped to her stomach.
I can’t lose him.
    I can’t….
She scanned the water but saw nothing.
    MacRieve can’t be gone, can’t be dead.
    She’d just strapped her bow over her body and tensed to dive in after him, when she heard from behind her,
“What the hell are you doing?”
    She whirled around. “MacRieve!” He was on the other side of the boat, swimming fast for what was left of the platform. “How’d you get over there?”
    “Caiman tail, I think,” he said as he climbed