Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night (9 page)

“Stop analyzing me, cousin.”

Lachlain exhaled. “I doona understand you sometimes.”

Bowe eased his legs over the side of the bed, then gritted his teeth against an obvious stab of pain. “If you have no' after twelve hundred years, then you never will.”

Lachlain knew he was right. But then Bowe had always been singular among the clan.

Like most Lykae, Bowe was impatient and hotheaded, yet he'd also been known to spend hour after hour patiently teaching bairns the fundamentals of rugby, his favorite sport before Americans had come up with their own “football.” Though Bowe was always the first into a fight, eager to punish slights, once the battle was over he was also the first to forgive those slights.

In the north of Scotland, winters could be harsh, with spring eagerly awaited by the clan, but Bowe always regretted seeing winter, his favorite season, fade. Lachlain supposed he'd enjoyed it because it was stark like him.

At least Bowe had enjoyed it until he'd lost his Mariah in the dead of winter . . . .

“What's so important that you canna rest more or eat?” Lachlain waved at the gel packs of food and strange-smelling mineral replacement drinks beside his bed. Bowe was supposed to partake of them, having just come off such a long interval without food and water, but had scarcely touched them. “Is this about revenge against Wroth?”

Bowe said nothing, just seemed to be preparing to rise, planting his feet wide on the wooden floor.

“If so, I ask you to reconsider that action. And no' only because of the debt I owe his brother.” If not for Nikolai
Wroth, Emma would have . . . died. At the mere thought, suddenly Lachlain needed to see her, to feel her, even when he knew she waited for him just twenty minutes away with her fierce Valkyrie family. He'd left her safe at Val Hall behind thick curtains, protected from the sun, and happily playing video games. “Bowe, you have to remember that it
was
a contest. And the reports we received all said ‘the Lykae competitor' was proving ruthless—and that he played dirtier than Kaderin had in three previous Hies.”

Bowe shrugged.

“We heard you mesmerized Kaderin with a glittering object so you could barricade her behind a rock slide. Did you no' trap her alone with three hungry basilisks?”

A flicker of something arose in Bowe's eyes—or eye—that Lachlain suspected was satisfaction. “And we also heard that when you were on a task in the Congo, you whaled a shovel across Sebastian Wroth's face. Knocked him out and then threw him into a raging river. At
high noon
in
Africa
.”

His cousin had obviously taken a savage thrill in that act—and still did.

“This is no' about Wroth,” Bowe said. “No' yet.”

“Then are your thoughts occupied with the witch?”

At last, Bowe turned to him with interest. “What have you heard?”

“I know about the curse. And that you can actually die from these wounds.”

Bowe didn't appear to be concerned about that in the least. “That witch and I have much unfinished business. I'm going to retrieve her from the tomb, since no one else has been able to. Though I doona understand how none
could locate that place. In that round of the Hie, the coordinates were given to
all
the competitors.”

“I'm told the goddess Riora erased them with each round,” Lachlain explained. “No one took note of that location if they dinna plan to journey there. You trapped anyone who did.”

Bowe scowled at that. “I was sure they'd eventually escape.”

“And what is the witch to you?” Emma actually knew this Mariketa fairly well because the witch often visited the more rowdy Valkyrie at Val Hall. That didn't surprise Lachlain—nearly every time he'd been to Val Hall he'd spotted intoxicated witches laughing and staggering about the place.

Bowe hesitated, then said, “She put another spell on me besides the weakening one. A spell to make me feel things for her. I think it's triggered me to think of her as . . . my mate.”

“You are sure it's a spell?” Lachlain hastily asked. “What if it's real?” He could only hope. Emma had told him that aside from a bit of a wild streak and a pinch of a witch's natural deviousness, Mariketa had a good heart.

Lachlain didn't know if he could say the same for Bowe's mate from before. He'd met Mariah on occasion when he and Bowe had traveled to convene with her father, the king of a large faction of fey. Lachlain had always found Mariah to be a spoiled sort, and though she'd been beautiful, tall and blond, she'd seemed to show disdain for all the elementals that the Lykae celebrated—food, touch, sex. But Bowe had been content with her, so Lachlain had remained silent about his misgivings. Yet now . . . “Bowe, it could be that you were given two.”

“Have you ever heard of that happening?” he asked, his tone growing frustrated.

“Well, no, but—”

“In five thousand years of the clan's record keeping, there's never been an instance of it. Five millennia, Lachlain. I know because I took half a decade to comb through every line of every single record. Every bloody one.”

Lachlain knew Bowe had been dogged in finding a way to have Mariah back, but he hadn't realized he'd sifted through all those records.

Bowe added, “The witch put one spell on me—why would I no' think she'd hex me twice?”

“But
why
would she do it?”

He ran his remaining hand over the back of his neck. “There was a short window of time when she . . . when she wanted me for herself. She made me kiss her—”

“Made you?” Lachlain raised his eyebrows.

“
Enthralled
me to do it.”

“How can you be sure you didn't merely desire her?”

“Because I could feel it happening. And I have been true to Mariah all these years . . . until that witch toyed with me.”

The fact that Bowe hadn't bedded another for so long didn't shock Lachlain. Though the Lykae were notorious for their insatiable appetites, their kind revered few things above loyalty. “Emma knows the witch and has seen her without her cloak. She says Mariketa is a beautiful girl. Did you no' find her so?”

“She had a glamour on. I canna recall her looks clearly.”

“What did the Instinct tell you?” A guiding force with which all Lykae are born, the Instinct was like a voice in the mind directing the individual toward what would be best for him, as well as for the collective clan.

Bowe hesitated before admitting, “The Instinct has long been quiet in me.”

Lachlain glanced away. The idea that his cousin had been denied the comforting presence of the Instinct was painful for Lachlain, but he didn't want Bowe to think he pitied him. Even when Lachlain had been tortured, the Instinct had never forsaken him.

Bowe added, “The bottom line is that the gods could no' be so cruel as to pair
me
with a witch.”

This was a good point. All Lykae mistrusted witches—the Instinct cautioned continually—but Bowe's dislike had always been more marked than others'. Ever since he was a lad he'd had a pronounced aversion to them, even before Bowe had learned of his father's tragic encounter with one.

Still Lachlain said, “I was given a half-vampire, half-Valkyrie as mate, and I could no' cherish her more.”

“I could handle anything . . . just no' a bloody witch, Lachlain.”

Lachlain let that rest for now. “You canna travel until you've built up some strength. And think, if you do in fact recognize her as your mate, for whatever reason, you canna go for her yet. Today's Wednesday—the full moon's on Friday night.” And all mated Lykae turned in the heat of the moon.

“Christ. When I change I might pursue her as my mate and claim her.”

Bowe made the comment as if this was a scenario to be avoided at all costs, yet Lachlain had seen a flash of pure anticipation in him at the imagined prospect. His entire body had tensed. Lachlain hadn't seen excitement like that in his cousin in nearly two centuries.

“You'll have to wait.”

Bowe shook his head. “I'll get her to remove the spell before then.”

“And if she refuses?”

“I'll throttle her.”

“Damn it, Bowe, I'm going in your stead.”

“When the full moon nears? You'd be away from your female?”

Bowe didn't know that Lachlain had just missed the last one with Emma because she'd been on the other side of the world holding vigil with her family for Kaderin. Being without Emma had been grueling for Lachlain, and he dreaded the repeat prospect, but he'd not see his cousin walk into a trap. “There will be more. Emma will understand.”

“And why would you no' send Munro or Uilliam?”

The Lykae twin brothers were among Lachlain's most trusted soldiers. “They have no' returned from the last task I sent them on.”

“And Garreth?”

Lachlain's younger brother had called just two days ago. “He still pursues Lucia, his Valkyrie huntress. She's proving to be elusive quarry, even for him. And there's no one else I'd trust to do this. I'm going. This is my final word on the subject.”

Bowe's expression darkened. Lachlain was so used to giving orders that he sometimes overlooked the fact that Bowe was an alpha himself—a strong one who was far more comfortable giving orders than receiving them. Not to mention the unspoken fact that Lachlain was king only because Bowe's father had ceded his heirdom.

“I'm no' off to fight the goddamned Hydra, Lachlain. I
fly, I drive, I collect a witch. Do you truly believe I'm incapable of this?”

Lachlain had not only angered Bowe but offended him. He exhaled. “No, of course no'. Just . . . just let me know if I can help you.”

Bowe nodded. “Before I go I want to know why that Valkyrie soothsayer told me I would get my mate back through the Hie. Can you call Emma and get her to find Nïx—”

Lachlain's new pager went off and he started, still uncomfortable with the technology of this age. Emma had gotten this contraption for him and tried to teach him how to work it, but he'd been gone that entire day without seeing her, and the only thing he'd been interested in was ripping off her red negligee with his teeth. . . . He hadn't yet told her that red was an attractant to Lykae males, much less mated males.

He tossed the pager to Bowe. “Tell me what it says. And if you canna work it with one hand, then you sure as hell canna drive a stick shift down in Guatemala.”

Bowe glowered, then fiddled with it. “It says, ‘Dim the room. xoxo.' ”

“Bugger me!” Lachlain lunged for the drapes, yanking them closed.

Just as he was finishing the second window, Emma traced inside the scant light of the bedroom and smiled softly at him, her expression proud. “See? The system works.”

“What're you doin' here, lass?”

Casting Bowe a sympathetic glance, she said, “I had to come when I heard all the commotion at Val Hall.”

“Commotion?”

“I had better let my aunt Nïx explain it.” Emma's beautiful blue eyes grew troubled. “She's on her way here. Said Bowe was going to want to speak with her now?”

Bowe scowled. “Eerie, bloody foresight. I'm weary of it, and of magick—and of the whole bloody Lore!”

W
hen Nïx blithely entered the room minutes later, Bowe said, “You told me that if I entered the Hie I would get my mate back. What reason would you have to deceive me?”

Ignoring his question, she unabashedly crawled onto the foot of Bowe's bed. Her T-shirt read:
It'll only hurt for a second. Promise. . . .
Weird bloody Valkyries—and she was one of the weirdest. As the firstborn of her kind, she was likely over three thousand years old, though she looked not old enough to buy liquor in the States.

Other males saw Nïx as exceedingly comely; all Bowe saw was a powerful being made mad as a hatter from her foresight.

She lay on her side, bending her elbow to casually prop her head in her hand. With a sigh she said, “Bowen, I took you on as my pet project because I like to
ogle
you. Due to your rowr factor.” Her distracted gaze flickered over his face and the bandaged end of his arm. “If you're not going to keep yourself up, well—”

“Answer me.”

“Sooooorry, I didn't see that you'd be enthralled to love another, or, more correctly,
ensorcelled
—”

“I knew it!” Bowe cast a look at Lachlain.

“You're aware of it, then?” Nïx asked.

Bowe annunciated, “
Brutally.
”

“Mariketa will remove it from you, you know, in time,” Nïx continued. “As well as that pesky mortality spell. Which is convenient since you must go for her and return her to her coven.”

“Return her to the witches?” Bowe gave a humorless laugh. He'd had his suspicions confirmed, and now he really wanted to throttle Mariketa—not do her a sodding favor. “After I force her to fix me, I might just strand her in the jungle for this.”