Kresley Cole - Pleasure of a Dark Prince

She’d begun to suspect the arrow had been carved from an enchanted world tree, a tree of life . There were fewer than a dozen in number scattered all over the earth, but one was rumored to grow in the Amazon.

What better way to defeat a being that reveled in carnage and death?

And what better way to get myself killed? she thought as she replaced the dieumort amid her regular arrows. She was uneasy safeguarding such a weapon—one of the most powerful ever to exist. It was only a matter of time before some enemy came after her, and after this prize. She wanted to use the arrow as soon as possible, to extinguish it—and Cruach—forever.

A chill wind blew, and she pulled her jacket closer, wishing she was back in the sultry warmth of the Amazon with MacRieve. Instead of waiting at the gates of hell. Which was no exaggeration.

She couldn’t imagine a more gruesome place. Decorated with piles of rotting bodies and infested with vermin, the cavern was a fitting hovel for the monster within. She remembered how Cruach would drink from a goblet and blood would dribble down his chin and out from his rotting cheeks. She remembered how he would feed .

But the smell was the worst. Right now, the stench oozing out from the lair was so thick, it seemed visible, diffusing into the cleaner air outside.

Damn it, how much longer could she wait? Eventually, MacRieve would find her, somehow; that was what his kind did. Regin needed to be located and then rescued from her obsessed berserker. And with each hour Lucia remained, she risked Cromites returning, or enemies seeking the dieumort.

If she faced Cruach, he’d be no match for her speed, not with his hunched and broken body. She had a weapon in her quiver that would exterminate him. The sooner she completed this kill, the sooner she could return to MacRieve.

I want to start our life together. She could ask the Scot to help her find Regin—

Cruach’s voice rang out then, echoing through the tunnel. “Come to me, fair Lucia. For I was soon to come to you.”

Her fists clenched. Fair Lucia. More memories bombarded her. The gristle-covered altar, the lecherous robed ones, the… pain . Her rage toward him had always been seething, buried deep within her. Now it welled like a font; she needed raw violence, wanted to mete out her wrath.

After a thousand years, she craved destroying the Broken Bloody One.

The huntress would slay the bear—in his cave.

Taking a deep breath, she readied her bow, prepared to pull either the dieumort for Cruach or a regular arrow for one of his guards, then started into the passageway. As she went deeper within, the ground grew soggier, making a sucking sound with each step. It was a pulp of decomposing flesh and blood. Dotting the walls were torch lights made from the bones and clothing of his victims.

She hadn’t been back inside here since the first time. And it was so much worse than she remembered. How could I have been fooled by this fiend? Thank the gods that MacRieve would never find out she’d wed this monster—

“Imagine running into you here,” a voice said behind her.

Lucia whirled around, gasping. “What are you doing? H-how did you find this place?”

“I have ways,” he answered with a choked cough. “Gods, the smell .”

“Mariketa scried, didn’t she?”

“Oh, aye.” The witch had gotten him in the vicinity, but still Garreth could scarcely believe he’d found this tunnel. The stench coming from within had made scenting Lucia difficult—and paining. “For a price, witches can be accommodating.”

Yet he feared there’d be a downside to asking the witch for this. Bowen and Lachlain might meet up and follow Garreth here.

“How are you still standing?” he asked. “The smell nearly felled me coming in. Next time, get Nïx to find you a less revolting god to off.” He wiped his sleeve over his face. “I mean, have you ever smelled anything this bluidy awful before?”

At that, Lucia’s face seemed to pale even more. “You have to leave!” She kept glancing over her shoulder.

“I’m no’ leaving you—as you did me. Why did you take off again?”

“This is too dangerous. You d-don’t understand.” She looked like she was about to hyperventilate, the closest to panic that he’d ever seen her.

“If it’s so dangerous, do you think I’m just going to let you go in there?”

She shook her head hard. “You can become infected!”

“No more than you could be.”

“MacRieve, I will never ask you for another thing as long as we live. But right now, I’m beseeching you to leave this place.”

“In what universe would you think I’d be leaving without you?”

“I’ve told you—Cruach can make you see things that aren’t so, can make you feel things. He will take over your mind! The longer you’re in here, the greater your chance of infection.”

Garreth curled his finger under her chin. “Lousha, do you think there’s any power on earth that can make me harm you?”

“You’re not strong enough to fight it.” She shrugged from him, backing up a step. “No one is!”

“That right? Then worry more about your own reaction—”

“MacRieve, I’m… immune to him.”

“How? Why?”

Her eyes darted, tears wetting them. “P-please, you have to leave!”

Was he finally going to learn her secrets? “Why are you immune, Lousha?”

Seeming to bite back a sob, she whispered, “Because… because I’m his wife.”

How will he react? MacRieve’s expression was inscrutable. She’d put the truth out there, a shameful secret she’d dreaded his learning.

“This is what it’s all been about with you,” he said in an even tone. “All the fear, all the running. The nightmares.” When she nodded, he said, “You called him the devil.”

“He is.” What are you thinking, Scot?

“But you… married him?”

MacRieve’s disgusted with me. “Basically? Yes.”

“Ceremony and everything?”

She swallowed. “He tricked me into it. I–I was only sixteen.”

A muscle ticked in his cheek and his irises grew pale. “Then know this…”

She stopped breathing.

“Lass, I’m about to make you a widow—”

The sound of swords against scabbards rang out in the distance. She and MacRieve twisted around, found an army of robed Cromites approaching, eyes feverish with fanaticism.

“More of those fucks?”

There had to be over a hundred of them. “Please, MacRieve, let’s both leave before they attack. Take me from here!”

He appeared torn. At length, he said, “I’ll take you away—but I’ll come back for him.”

Yet more marched from the other direction, blocking them in.

“Looks like we fight, love!” Without warning, MacRieve charged them, slashing with his claws.

With her customary arrows, Lucia fired into the skirmish, dropping her mortal foes swiftly, careful not to hit MacRieve.

But they were in such close confines, and he seemed to be everywhere….

With his mind still reeling from her revelations, Garreth tore into the fray, stamping out one Cromite after another. Yet every time he eliminated one, another appeared—even with Lucia’s arrows continually whizzing past him, plugging their enemies between the eyes.

“Why dinna you tell me you were married?” To some revolting god.

“I didn’t want you to know—I didn’t want anyone to know!”

This fuck tricked my Lousha into this hellhole? He was as good as dead!

“What are you thinking, MacRieve?” she cried, shooting three arrows at a time.