Pleasure of a Dark Prince Read Free

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.”

ONE

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