Gods, he was still as attractive as ever. His dark charisma - which still seemed to make her mind go blank - was in full force.
Had he really missed her scent? As a Lykae, had he longed to experience it? The idea made her disconcertingly flushed - and irritated with herself. Why was she even contemplating things like that?
Instead, she needed to be worried about how he would retaliate for all she and Regin had done to him. There was no way he'd simply deem the last year water under the bridge....
Nïx had told her, "Call me as soon as you get on board." Oh, she would call all right!
Lucia snatched her sat-phone from her pack, dialing her. But the soothsayer wasn't answering - no shock - so Lucia left a message. In the calmest voice she could manage, she said, "Nïx, it's me. I'm under way. Call me back. Oh, and I think I hate you."
Once she hung up, she saw another text. RegRad: Didn't mean that last msg. Still BFFs? I should B there w/U. This town=LAME.
Lucia thought Regin should be with her, too. But at the outset, they'd disagreed on how to deal with MacRieve's hell-bent pursuit. Regin had decided to kill him, which Lucia couldn't abide. Not after he'd saved the lives of Regin, Annika, and herself.
How had Lucia repaid him? With pain.
And now she herself would be paying for that decision -
"Let me in, Lousha," he said from just outside the cabin.
Perhaps I should have let Regin have at the wolf. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"You ask questions that you know the answers to? Now, open up, or - "
"You'll huff and puff?" She glanced around the room, as if to find a way around letting him inside. Before she spied an alternative, he broke the lock, opening the door. "MacRieve!"
He strolled past her with an insolent chuck under her chin, then slammed the door closed.
"You got the cabin in the bow?" he said with a scowl. "Surprised you dinna just go with hammock class."
"If you have a problem with it, feel free to leave."
He ignored that, dropping his bulging duffle bag. Then he seemed to scent the area, checking nooks and crannies, rapping a knuckle on the wood-paneled wall, shuffling the faded green floor rug.
She took the opportunity to study him, finding him as insufferably gorgeous as ever. His thick dark hair remained longish and carelessly cut. His customary stubble shaded his lean cheeks and that stubborn cleft chin. Around his eyes, those faint lines fanned out, pale in his tanned skin.
Though he'd lost weight - he clearly hadn't been eating enough - his body was still massive. Nothing could diminish his towering height. Captain Travis was over six feet tall, and he'd had to look up to the Lykae.
Then she frowned. On his left wrist, MacRieve wore a silver cuff that looked as though it'd come from a suit of battered armor. It was what she'd initially seen glinting when she'd first caught sight of him. How odd.
"Still as ruggedly handsome," he said without turning around, "as I was the last time you saw me, Valkyrie."
Her face flushed red. She hadn't forgotten how gravelly his voice was, but for so long she'd denied its effect on her.
He opened up the double doors to the small balcony, peered out, then turned back to say, "Shame it's in the bow." Then he crossed to the cabin's sole chair to yank off his sodden boots.
"Why do you keep saying that?"
"You'll see." Barefooted, he unzipped his waterproof bag for a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt.
Her eyes widened. "You're not changing in here."
Fingers on the fly of his low-slung jeans, he raised his brows at her. "Oh, I'm no'?" He leisurely tugged down his zipper. "Leaving on wet clothes in the Amazon? Lesson one - that's no' too bright an idea."
Her first instinct was to whirl around, but then she'd be turning her back on a disrobing Lykae who lusted for her. Yet the alternative was just as bad. To see his naked flesh again?
How many times had she fantasized about his big shaft, remembering how it'd looked when he'd been pumping it into her fist between those bars?
Don't look at it. Blushing, she finally whirled around from him, but then she was forced to listen to the sounds of his undressing. His smooth, tan skin would still be damp, as it'd been that rainy night in the bayou. She swallowed, assailed by memories of touching him, touching him everywhere....
"So, Valkyrie. Mind telling me what we're doing in Amazonia, of all places? I'd vowed I'd never return to this hellhole."
Without turning around, she said, "I do mind. And if you vowed never to return, then you - should - leave."
"Here's a thought. In the last year I've been chasing you, did you never consider hiding out at the Ritz?"
"Here's a thought. Stop chasing me!"
Suddenly she felt his breaths - on the back of her neck. She twisted around, craning her head to stare up at mesmerizing golden eyes.
As he gazed down at her, he rested his hand against the wall above her head, fingering a lock of her hair. "Ah, lass, I will. Now that I've caught you."
He had little flecks of black within the gold of his irises. She'd never noticed that before. And she dimly perceived that he had in fact redressed.
Was she disappointed? "Caught me?"
"Oh, aye."
The reality of her situation sunk in. She was the object of a Lykae's unwavering obsession. They just didn't give up. And the Valkyrie's usual remedy for this - a slaying - wasn't an option.
She was caught, she couldn't get rid of him, and short of leaving this boat, she was going to have to deal with MacRieve.
She'd have to try to reason with him. The only problem? He made her feel anything but reasonable! Even now, she wanted to rise up on her toes, rubbing against his chest on the way up, to whisper in his ear that she needed to be kissed. "I'll make a deal with you, MacRieve. If you leave me alone for just one year, then we'll meet up. I'll let you court me. But I need you off this boat, now."
"Meet up? Like that time in the swamp?" he said pointedly.
"I'd vow it to the Lore. Just leave here now, and I'll contact you as soon as I return from the Amazon."
"This is no' open for debate. I'm no' bargaining with you. That time is past. We do things my way now. I'm in this cabin and in that bed with you. Best come to terms with it."
"You can't be serious!"
"Are you no' tired of running? Settle this with me."
"One more time - I'm not running from you! I have an urgent matter to attend to, and I need to be focused. Which means you need to leave."
"Tell me what you have to 'attend to.'"