Pleasure of a Dark Prince iad-9 Read online




  Pleasure of a Dark Prince

  ( Immortals After Dark - 9 )

  Kresley Cole

  Can the beast seduce a beauty and make her love him…? A promise of pleasure…from a brutal warrior determined to protect her.

  Never far from her bow, Lucia the Huntress is as mysterious as she is beautiful. But the secrets she harbors could destroy her-and those she loves-and every day brings more danger. It isn't safe for her to be with Garreth MacRieve, yet whenever she sees the fierce werewolf with his smoldering eyes, she finds herself surrendering to his kiss.

  An uncontrollable need…that can only be sated with her touch.

  From the shadows, Garreth, prince of the Lykae, has long watched over Lucia, the lovely little Valkyrie who alternately maddens him and inflames his lust. He aches to claim the seductive creature as his own and keep her safe from harm, but first he must convince her to accept him as her guardian. To do that he'll exploit Lucia's greatest weakness-her desire for him.

  PLEASURE OF A DARK PRINCE

  Immortals After Dark, Book 9

  Kresley Cole

  Dedicated to the Immortals After Dark readers,

  for sharing a love of the Lore with me

  and for spreading the IAD word.

  Thank you all!

  Glossary of Terms

  from

  THE LIVING BOOK OF LORE

  THE LORE

  “…and those sentient creatures that are not human shall be united in one stratum, coexisting with, yet secret from, man’s.”

  * Most are immortal and can regenerate from injuries. The stronger breeds can only be killed by mystical fire or beheading.

  * Their eyes change to a breed-specific color with intense emotion.

  * Also known as Loreans.

  THE VALKYRIE

  “When a maiden warrior screams for courage as she dies in battle, Wóden and Freya heed her call. The two gods give up lightning to strike her, rescuing her to their hall and preserving her courage forever in the form of the maiden’s immortal Valkyrie daughter.”

  * They take sustenance from the electrical energy of the earth, sharing it in one collective power, and give it back with their emotions in the form of lightning.

  * They possess preternatural strength, speed, and senses.

  * Without training, most can be mesmerized by shining objects and jewels.

  * Also known as shield maidens.

  THE LYKAE CLAN

  “A proud, strapping warrior of the Keltoi People (or Hidden People, later known as Celts) was taken in his prime by a maddened wolf. The warrior rose from the dead, now an immortal, with the spirit of the beast latent within him. He displayed the wolf’s traits: the need for touch, an intense loyalty to its kind, an animal craving for the delights of the flesh. Sometimes the beast rises…”

  * Also called werewolves, war-wolds.

  * Each possesses the Instinct, an inner guiding force, like a voice whispering in one’s mind.

  * Enemies of the Vampire Horde.

  THE VAMPIRES

  * Two warring factions, the Horde and the For-bearer Army.

  * Each vampire seeks his Bride, his eternal wife, and walks as the living dead until he finds her.

  * A Bride will render his body fully alive, giving him breath and making his heart beat, a process known as blooding.

  * Tracing is teleporting, the vampires’ means of travel. A vampire can only trace to destinations he’s previously been or to those he can see.

  * The Fallen are vampires who have killed by drinking a victim to death. Distinguished by their red eyes.

  THE HORDE

  “In the first chaos of the Lore, a brotherhood of vampires dominated by relying on their cold nature, worship of logic, and absence of mercy. They sprang from the harsh steppes of Dacia and migrated to Russia, though some say a secret enclave, the Daci, live in Dacia still.”

  * The Fallen comprise their ranks.

  THE FORBEARERS

  “…his crown stolen, Kristoff, the rightful Horde king, stalked the battlefields of antiquity seeking the strongest, most valiant human warriors as they died, earning him the name of Gravewalker. He offered eternal life in exchange for eternal fealty to him and his growing army.”

  * An army of vampires consisting of turned humans who do not drink blood directly from the flesh.

  * Kristoff was raised as a human and then lived among them. He and his army know little of the Lore.

  THE HOUSE OF WITCHES

  “…immortal possessors of magical talents, practitioners of good and evil.”

  * Mystical mercenaries who sell their spells.

  * Separated into five castes: warrior, healer, enchantress, conjurer, and seeress.

  * Led by Mariketa the Awaited.

  THE WRAITHS

  “…their origin unknown, their presence chilling.”

  * Spectral, howling beings. Undefeatable and, for the most part, uncontrollable.

  * Also called the Ancient Scourge.

  THE TURNING

  “Only through death can one become an ‘other.’ ”

  * Some beings, such as the Lykae, vampires, and demons, can turn a human or even other Lore creatures into their kind through differing means, but the catalyst for change is always death, and success is not guaranteed.

  THE ACCESSION

  “And a time shall come to pass when all immortal beings in the Lore, from the Valkyrie, vampire, Lykae, and demon factions to the phantoms, shifters, fey, and sirens…must fight and destroy each other.”

  * A kind of mystical checks-and-balances system for an ever-growing population of immortals.

  * Occurs every five hundred years. Or right now…

  Some secrets can never be known. They go to

  the grave with you like children never born.

  — LUCIA THE HUNTRESS,

  Valkyrie of mysterious origin,

  world’s most skilled archeress

  If I have to scour the entire earth, I’ll hunt her

  down. I will no’ falter. One day I will bring

  my female back to my home—back to my

  bed…. She was born to be found by me.

  — GARRETH MACRIEVE,

  king of all Lykae

  Prologue

  Thrymheim Hold, the Northlands

  Home of Skathi, goddess of the hunt

  In ages long past…

  Lucia the Maiden cracked open her eyes and found herself atop an altar, staring up at a furious goddess. Somehow her younger sister, Regin the Radiant, had found Skathi’s temple and had brought Lucia here.

  From one altar to the next, she thought deliriously as her fever raged. Pain roiled inside her broken body. Her fractured limbs… never had she imagined such agony.

  “You deliver this into my sacred place,” Skathi the Huntress of the Great North said to Regin, “and desecrate my altar? You court my wrath, young Valkyrie.”

  Regin—all of twelve years old, with Lucia’s blood covering her glowing skin—said, “What can you do? Torture my sister? Murder her? She has already survived the first and is about to succumb to the second without your aid.”

  “I could murder both of you.”

  In answer, Regin pursed her lips, looking as if she were sizing up Skathi’s shins for a good kicking.

  Lucia struggled for consciousness, labored to speak. “Don’t hurt her, please… my fault, my fault…” But her words were drowned out by a rumbling boom. This hold was carved into the heights of Godsbellow Mountain, shaken continually by thunder.

  Skathi asked Regin, “Why bring her here?”

  “Because you’re both neighbor and nemesis to the one who did this.”

  Had inte
rest flickered in the goddess’s eyes? “The Broken Bloody One?”

  “Aye.”

  Canting her head at Regin in an appraising way, Skathi said, “You’re not even old enough to be a true immortal yet. For one so powerless and insignificant, you dare much, Valkyrie.”

  “For Lucia, I dare this and more,” Regin answered proudly. “Best be forewarned.”

  “Regin!” Lucia gasped. The girl had lost her mind.

  “What?” She stomped her foot. “What’d I say?”

  Instead of smiting Regin, the goddess impatiently gestured for her guards, the legendary Skathians. They were renowned archers, all females who underwent grueling training rituals to serve the goddess. “Take the glowing one down the mountain. Make sure she does not remember the way back.”

  When Regin charged toward her, Lucia cried, “Nay, Regin… leave me!”

  The Skathians snagged Regin around the waist, forcing her out as she flailed and shrieked, biting them.

  Lucia heard one of them say, “Ow! You little ratling!” And then they were gone.

  Skathi regarded Lucia’s battered face impassively. “You worry for her? When she has been spared? You, however, will not last the hour.”

  “I know,” Lucia whispered. “Unless you help me.” She caught Skathi’s gaze as she pleaded—a mistake to look directly upon the great and terrible goddess. Meeting her fathomless eyes brought on the sorrow and fear of all her prey over the ages. It sank over Lucia like a bitter frost. “Please….” When Lucia held up her crimson-stained hand in supplication, the wound across her torso she’d been holding welled with blood, flowing over her sides. A fountain of sticky warmth coated the altar beneath her, surrounding her battered body, but it quickly cooled on the chill stone.

  Each drop lost left her shuddering harder, even more desperate. The pain of her injuries maddened her.

  “You made your decision, Valkyrie,” the goddess said in answer. “And reaped what you sowed when you disobeyed those you were born to obey. Why should I help you?”

  Because I’ve only lived sixteen years, Lucia thought, but she knew that wouldn’t sway Skathi, a timeless being who could scarcely comprehend death—or youth.

  “Because I’ll do… whatever you ask of me,” Lucia said at last. The shuddering was getting worse; the altar beneath her was so cold. “P-pay any price.”

  “If I saved you, I would impart my essence to you. A being like you would bear my mark of favor and be tied to the bow forever,” Skathi said, strolling to an opening overlooking her mountain, guarded by miles of deadly woods that swallowed unwary travelers. Lucia barely remembered traversing the mystical forest as Regin dragged her across portals and dales for days.

  “Lucia, I’m taking you to Skathi!”

  “She will… not help.”

  “She will! The Skathians fight him every five hundred years….”

  Thunder boomed once more, the sound seeming to soothe the goddess. “Where my followers have sacrificed to become expert markswomen, you would simply be gifted with my hunting skills. An unequaled archer, better than them all. Why do you think you’re worthy of that? When they have trained so hard? When they are pure of heart—and body?”

  The Skathians lived by an ascetic code—and despised men. I understand why now.

  “They are not tainted as you are,” Skathi continued. “As you willingly offered yourself up to be.”

  Dim memories arose of her last nine days as prisoner of Crom Cruach—the Broken Bloody One, a monster with the face of an angel. Had that animal bitten her? She refused to look down at her body, but she suspected he’d gnawed at her skin once she’d blacked out. And that she’d fought him before she’d mindlessly jumped from his lair—chunks of scaly flesh were still embedded beneath her claws.

  Lucia ruthlessly stamped out those visions of her captivity. She would never let herself remember them, especially not that last night.

  What happened in the dark. Blood streaming down my thighs.

  “I didn’t know…. I never knew.” Regret washed over her. “I’ll s-sacrifice anything, Skathi.”

  “Gifts from gods always come with a price. Are you ready to pay mine?”

  Lucia nodded weakly. “I can become… p-pure hearted. And I’ll shun men.” She must know I’ll never be fooled again.

  “Virgin from this day forward?” After a long moment, Skathi said, “You escaped the Broken Bloody One this time—courage, or cowardice, making you leap—yet Cruach will come for you in the next Accession if he escapes his jail.”

  Yes, but by that time I’ll be truly immortal. I’ll run farther, faster.

  “He shall merely do this again. Unless… you fight him.”

  “I want to fight him.” She never wanted to see his hideous visage again.

  “Every five hundred years, he would become your bane and you his jailer.”

  “Let me live to face him.” Lying to a goddess? But Lucia was desperate.

  Skathi’s face took on a thoughtful mien. “Yes, I have decided to heal you and make you an Archer—so long as you remain chaste. Yet any time that you miss a target, you shall experience the pain you are about to suffer. You shall always remember what brought you this low and never repeat this fall from grace. That will make you a Skathian.”

  Dizziness overwhelmed Lucia. She was so confused. “About to suffer?” This torment could not be worse?

  “Yes, pain to hone your mind. Agony to sharpen your resolve like a blade stone.” As she placed her milk-white hands over Lucia’s torso, Skathi murmured, “Ah, young Lucia, in the end, I believe you shall wish I’d let you perish.” The goddess’s palms began to glow with blue light.

  Brighter, brighter…

  Suddenly Lucia convulsed, shrieking as her infected wounds pulled taut, purging blood and pus, her fractured bones grinding as they knit together. Her fingers clenched tight, her back arching—like a bow.

  “You’ll be my weapon,” Skathi cried, her face becoming a frenzied mask. “You’ll be my instrument!”

  On and on, the light burned, until abruptly there was none. Lucia was healed—but changed. A bowstring coiled around her body like a serpent. And in her trembling hands, a black ash bow and a single golden arrow had appeared.

  “Welcome back to life—to your new life. You are now an Archer.” Skathi met her eyes, and Lucia felt the weight of overweening dread, just as a thousand other souls had before her. “And, Lucia, you shall forever be nothing more.”

  Chapter 1

  Southern Louisiana

  Present day

  “Munro, you daft git, pass the ball!” Garreth Mac-Rieve yelled at his kinsman over the thunder and howling winds.

  Tonight was their yearly skins-versus-demons rugby match—a tradition for Garreth and his clan, meant to take his mind from the anniversary this day marked. Garreth was barefooted, wearing only jeans and no shirt. Rain pounded in strengthening intervals, turning this abandoned grassy airstrip in bayou country into a mire of muck and turf. Sweat mingled with mud—and some blood.

  He almost felt… not numb. And that in itself was a feat.

  Munro flipped him off but did finally sling him the ball. The leather was coated in grit, mixing with the filth covering Garreth’s bared chest. He feinted left, then sprinted right around two colossal Ferine demons, shoving his hand in their faces, stiff-arming them.

  As he ran, with his heart pounding in his ears, he could forget. The exertion and the aggression were both so welcome, he wanted to beat his bare chest.

  The swift Ferines surrounded him, so he tossed the ball to Uilleam, Munro’s twin, who took it in to score. His brothers-in-arms were strong and ruthless contenders, as was he. The beasts inside them loved to fight, to play. Rough.

  The demons responded to the goal with trash talk and shoving. Like a shot, Garreth was in the middle.

  “You’re raring to fight for an heirless king,” Caliban, the Ferines’ leader, sneered. “Nothing new—you Lykae go through kings like I piss demon brew.�
��

  Of all the sore subjects to bring up, Garreth’s kingship was the one most infuriating. And on this day?

  He launched himself at Caliban, but Munro and Uilleam heaved him back. As other demons steered Caliban away from the scuffle, Munro said, “Save it for the game, friend.”

  Garreth spat blood in Caliban’s direction before letting the two lead him away to cool off. While Uilleam and Munro stayed with him, the other Lykae on the team made their way to the sidelines to mingle with the “cheerleaders.”

  The demons took the opportunity to take a timeout and drink demon brew. The only bad thing about playing with demons—one of the few species in the Lore that could contend with the Lykae in a physical contest—was their continual “brew breaks.” Only seemed fair that Garreth and his kinsmen shoot copious amounts of whiskey to mitigate their advantage. They swilled it straight from the bottle, each one with his own, the Lykae version of Gatorade.

  Their cooler was full of fifths.

  “You’ve got to let this go, Garreth,” Munro said, taking a deep drink.

  Garreth swiped his hand over the back of his neck, getting the feeling that he was being watched. But then, he and all the other players were. Nymphs lined the field, oblivious to the rain, touching themselves and sucking on their own fingers as they impatiently waited for this game to turn into an orgy.

  He irritably gazed at the females. “Why’d you invite them?” he demanded. “Damn you both, I weary of this. Did you never think that I doona like nymphs?”

  “Nay,” Uilleam said with a swig. “Any being that sports a penis likes nymphs.”

  Munro drained his bottle and added, “You canna argue with medical facts.”

  Garreth knew Uilleam and Munro meant well, but this was getting old. “I doona like them. They’re too… too…”

  “Beautiful?”

  “Lusty?”

  “Easy,” Garreth said. “They’re too easy. For once I’d like to have a female give me a challenge. One that would no’ fall into bed with me because I’m supposedly a king.” When Munro opened his mouth to speak, Garreth said, “Aye, supposedly.”