Pleasure of a Dark Prince (4 page)

The arrows flew between two nymphs and sliced through the kobold’s neck, severing its head from its miniature body. A fantastical shot. Yet she appeared bored with the result.

Heaving, choking, Garreth saw her casually wend her way through the stunned nymphs. Once she reached the two pieces of kobold, the archeress chucked them into the nearby swamp.

She replaced the bow over her body, then strolled back in the direction she’d come from. When she realized all attention was on her, she slowed. “Oh.” She gave them a Queen Elizabeth wave and said, “Play on.”

As he wheezed and his cousins whaled hits on his back like anvil blows, she met Garreth’s gaze. He reached a muddy hand toward her, but she frowned with disdain, then disappeared into the brush. Finally Uilleam kicked Garreth in the back, and his back teeth flew from his windpipe like Chiclets.

“What in the hell’s the matter with you?” Munro demanded.

Between labored breaths, Garreth clambered to his feet. He’d been told what to expect when finding his mate, but never had he imagined the strength of his reaction. “It’s… happened.”

They knew immediately what he spoke of. Munro looked incredulous; Uilleam, jealous. How long had they both been waiting?

“The archer?” Uilleam asked. “Never seen anyone shoot like that. But she looked like she might be… a
Valkyrie
.”

Munro swore under his breath, “Bluidy bad luck.”

“Just force my shoulder back in place! Be quick, man!” Naturally, the first time Garreth encountered his mate— the one he’d awaited so long—she’d seen him calling his competitors pussies and playing by dirty rules. He was shirtless, well on his way to being drunk, and filthy with blood and mud. He wasn’t even wearing shoes.

And it probably appeared as if he’d been about to take part in an orgy.

“You tell no one of this,” Garreth grated.

“Why the hell no’?” Munro gave a hard yank on Garreth’s arm.

“Whatever she may be, she’s
other
,” he said. “And she’s to be the Lykae queen?
No one
knows, not until she’s marked and mated. Vow it!”

“Aye, then, we vow it,” Uilleam said.

The second they popped his shoulder back in, he took off at a sprint.
—Track her. Claim.—
With his Instinct louder and sharper than it’d ever been, he ran headlong through the rain.

He’d just been despairing over another year without his older brother, another year of royal responsibilities that he’d never thought would fall to him. On this day, the fates still refused to surrender Lachlain. But they’d given Garreth his mate in that ethereal creature.

As he charged forward, excitement welled within him, followed by overwhelming relief. With the way the rain had been pouring earlier, he could’ve missed her scent. Now he was on her trail.

Yet at the line of moss-curtained cypresses—the entrance to the most remote section of the swamp—he slowed. Somehow her scent was emanating from four different directions. He decided on one to follow, then raced through the brush, hurdling streams and bogs.

When he reached the source of the scent and there was no sign of her, he turned in place. Then gazed up to find one of her arrows lodged in a tree, so deep only the flights showed. And to those, she’d tied little bits of her T-shirt.
Clever girl.
She’d used her arrows to obscure her trail.

But he would follow each to the end, tracking her for as long as it took. She’d been born for him.
And I was born to find her….

Terrain passed beneath his feet for half an hour before he located her true trail. With the innate stealth of his kind, he prowled closer, hunting this huntress in the now drizzling rain.

The swamp made it easy for him to approach her undetected. There were a thousand shadows to conceal him, with animals constantly creeping about to distract her.

Once he spied her again, he just stopped himself from sucking in a breath. Up close, she was even lovelier than he’d thought her. She had to be a Valkyrie, one among a species of women both notoriously beautiful… and notoriously fierce.

Her features were stunning—high, bold cheekbones, plump lips, and a slim, pixie nose—but her coloring made her beyond compare. Her skin was golden and smooth, her eyes the color of Scots whiskey.

She was of middling height and curvy, wearing a wet white T-shirt that hugged
generous
breasts. Khaki shorts fitted tightly over her pert arse and displayed shapely legs. Her hair was long—a dark mane, heavy with rain.

On her right hand, she wore a leather shooting glove. A long leather forearm guard stretched from her left wrist to her elbow.
Who knew archery gear could be so sexy?

His female would wear her leathers when he took her curvy wee body tonight. At the thought, his shaft hardened in his damp jeans, and he almost growled.

Instead, he silently followed her, watching as she closed in on the prey he’d already scented in the burrows beneath them.

If she was in fact a Valkyrie, she’d possess superhuman senses like his own—keen hearing and the ability to see in the dark or over long distances. Yet her sense of smell wouldn’t be nearly as developed as his own. She’d need to track the creature by sight and sound—and she was doing so expertly.

But all the while she would freeze, jerking her head back in his direction, her pointed ears twitching.

Without warning, she leapt up into a waterlogged oak, crouching there as she resumed her shooting stance, nocking another arrow. From a distance, her short bow was unassuming, a recurve bow with the ends arching away from her and a thickened grip in the middle. Typical, if old fashioned. But as he neared he could see there were etched gold markings in the polished black wood.

Her weapon was as fine and proud as its owner obviously was….

She went motionless, aiming directly for the spot where he’d scented her prey. Did she plan to hit it through the earth?

Aye, because in a reaper’s voice, she whispered,
“Underground won’t save you.”

THREE

I
can hear its breath, muffled now.
Lucia knew the ko-bold had gone underground, scurrying for its life. She’d trailed it here, easily reading the signs that all prey left behind.

From this angle in the tree, she could shoot into the ground, piercing her arrow straight into the tunnel beneath. Her
special
arrow—it’d go in sleek and aerodynamic until contact, then it would release three razor-sharp barbs.

Soon she’d report two confirmed kills back to Nucking Futs Nïx. Just as Lucia always did. And then what?
Then I’ll repeat days like this, over and over, until the Accession.

When the nightmares came.

For now, kill the kobold, go home.

Yet for some reason, instead of focusing on her target, she recalled broad shoulders and lean cheeks, remembering how the Lykae had looked at her just before he’d been tackled. He’d stared, heaving breaths with that barrel chest, sweat trickling down his muscled torso. Until he’d gotten flattened by some of the biggest demons she’d ever seen.

His interest had disconcerted her. In fact, all eyes had been on her—something that didn’t often happen since Lucia usually had the brazen, showstopping Regin the Radiant to distract notice from her.

But if anyone, including that male—who surely hadn’t been reaching for
her
with that grubby paw—had gotten curious and actually followed her, she’d taken care to cover her tracks.

Lucia shook her head hard, refocusing, inhaling a breath. Once she exhaled, she held herself motionless, sighting down the arrow’s length. The ancient inscriptions on her bow seemed to glow….

She released the string. With a
thunk
, the arrow punctured the ground, boring deep, all the way to the kobold burrowed below. A muffled shriek sounded.

Target hit.
Even underground, she’d nailed it. Not surprising—she hadn’t missed a shot in centuries. Skathi’s essence literally worked like a charm.

Lucia swung her bow back across her body, then leapt down to finish off her immortal prey with a swift beheading.
It’s hard being this good
, she thought as she sauntered to the spot of contact.
It’s harder to act modest.
She sighed.
My cross to bear.

Three tenets comprised the Skathian code: honesty, chastity, and humility. She managed honesty— mostly—and chastity totally. But she couldn’t grasp the reasoning behind humility.

When she neared, the creature scurried in the tunnel beneath her feet, making the arrow shaft dart frenziedly in the mucky ground, which amused her.

This was her greatest pleasure—the hunt. When she was out like this, she felt less like an imposter, filled with shameful secrets. In these moments, she didn’t feel as if her sins were stamped upon her like a scarlet letter for all to see.

And she could briefly forget what would soon befall her in the approaching Accession.

Shaking away that thought, she crouched to dig free her prey, hauling it out by the ankle in a rush of mud and roots. Still in cherubic form, the kobold squirmed frenetically, her arrow jutting from its throat.

She dropped it to the ground and plucked free her arrow, taking half its neck with those barbs. The creature transformed, growing reptilian, with snakelike eyes and scaly skin. When it snapped its now elongated fangs at her, she turned the arrow lengthwise, pressing the shaft down over what was left of its neck.

As blood sprayed up her arms, she grinned, relishing her job as enforcer of laws.

Lucia had just beheaded the thing when her ears twitched with awareness yet again.
Something’s watching me.
She leapt back to her feet, eyes darting. Something
close
.

The male. She sensed it was him—but how had he gotten the drop on her?

She peered into the shadows and almost gasped when golden eyes glowed back. “Why are you following me?” she demanded. On occasion, she acted as a negotiator between factions because she was so patient and levelheaded—or so everyone thought. Perhaps he sought her help to solve some grievance.

The male stalked closer to her, ignoring the natural path, heading directly for her. A Lykae had made her the object of its interest. Never a good development.

“How could I no’ follow a lass as bonny as you?” he asked in a raspy brogue. The mud had washed clean, revealing the perfection of his still-bare chest and torso and all the strong planes of his face. His chin was stubborn with a hint of a cleft, his skin tan, with those faint laugh lines etched beside golden eyes. Rain spiked his lashes.

His thick hair was wet and dark, whipping across his lean cheeks. She’d bet it’d be a rich brown when dry.

His gaze met hers for long moments before he leisurely took in every feature of her face. The way he looked at her was consuming, savoring—as if she were the most beautiful creature on earth and he’d been starved for the sight of her.

She frowned as a sense of awareness seemed to tingle through her every nerve.

When his gaze dipped to her body, he raised a shaking hand to run over his mouth, clearly liking what he saw.

What’s not to like— No! Act reasonable and serious. Above all things be rational.
“Who are you?”

“I’m Garreth MacRieve of the Lykae clan.” He drew nearer and she sidled back. They began circling each other. “Never seen anyone shoot like you.”

That truly never got old. “Because no one can,” she answered matter-of-factly.

Had the corner of his lips briefly curled? “What devil did you make a deal with to shoot like that?”

She almost sighed. Devil?
I did something entirely different with him.
She stifled the memories that had begun to surface more and more often.

“Mayhap your bow’s enchanted?”

“My bow’s not enchanted—merely unequaled.” For over a thousand years, it’d held fast, as perfectly honed today as it’d been the night of Lucia’s transformation. The black ash wood was polished to a sheen and carved with elaborate inscriptions. In a long-dead language, it was written that Lucia was a servant to the goddess Skathi. Forever. “You don’t think mine could be a natural”—
goddess-given
—“talent?”

“Aye. But to marry talent
and
beauty such as yours as well? Hardly sporting to other lasses.”

She’d often thought so herself. Luckily for them, she had no interest in garnering a man’s attention.

“And you could no’ be bonnier.”

In fact, she could be. Her hair was drenched. Her clothes were boring—a serviceable pair of shorts and a plain T-shirt. She wore no makeup or jewelry, but then, she never did. Not since she’d started wearing the bow.

“Are you fey or Valkyrie?”

I’m an Archer. A celibate in plain clothes. A shadow in the background.
“Guess.” At least he got points for not mistaking her for a nymph. Unfortunately, the two species resembled each other with their elven features. That was where all similarities ended.

“With the bow and the pointed ears, I’d normally say fey. But you’ve wee fangs and claws, so I fear it will no’ be so easy as that.”