by ML Guida
’Tis your fault, Black, Dracul said. We’re not only going to lose our mate, but our child as well.
Chapter 13
Loneliness bore into Isabella’s soul so deep that she thought she would die. She was with the most miserable man, who stank like rotten fish. Nausea swam around in her tummy, and she clenched her teeth to keep from spilling her guts onto the jungle floor. She might suffer as his prisoner, but she’d do it with dignity.
Palmer grabbed her arm and tossed her toward his men. “Bind the bitch.”
Isabella’s hands were roughly tied behind her back, the cord cutting into her flesh. Someone wrapped a filthy gag around her mouth and yanked hard. Oil and sweat gushed down her throat, and she gagged.
“Bring her,” Palmer said, as he disappeared into the thick foliage of ferns, flowers, and trees.
Someone shoved her, and she fell onto her knees hard. She bit back a cry, refusing to give them something to gloat about.
She was forced to go into the jungle, the tall trees blinding her vision of the sky. Leif was gone. He’d promised he’d return for her, but his voice had been so soft she wasn’t sure that was what he’d said. ’Twas what she’d wanted him to say, hoped he would say, but after his fierce kiss, her mind had been whirling so fast she couldn’t string his words together.
The jungle heat cut off any air, and she gasped for breath. Sweat drenched her, plastering her thin gown to her hot, sticky skin. She was still sore between her legs, and her flesh was chaffed from Leif’s kisses. He’d loved her like she was the most precious woman on Earth, but maybe he was just a magnificent lover, one who left his women contented and longing for more.
She had to stop dwelling on Leif. He was not going to aid in her escaping. She wanted to survive, return to her people, even if she was shunned. There, she could forget about his breathtaking kisses, his tender caresses, and his empty words. She’d find a way to piece her life back together.
Someone pushed her hard. “Keep moving, wench.”
She stumbled and fell on one knee, wincing at the sharp pain. She was dragged to her feet, and a knife pointed at her back. “Move. Zuto doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Isabella had no choice but to go deeper into the jungle. Her stomach growled, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything or had anything to drink. She couldn’t even wet her lips and wished she could just drink from the bubbling spring nearby, but she knew her captors would show no mercy. She pulled on her hands, but only managed to have the rope dig into her flesh deeper, turning her fingers numb. Leaves slapped at her face, and arms and sticks poked and brushed against her gown, tearing and scratching her flesh. Insects buzzed in her ears and spun around her face. With her hands tied, she was helpless to shoo them away. Sticks and rocks took turns stabbing at her bare feet, but she ignored the pain and trudged on, not wanting to endure more punishment.
Their treatment of her was different. Earlier, they had been almost afraid to touch her and had never brutalized her, but not this time. This time, they were crueler, meaner. Something had changed, and it wasn’t for the better.
The trees finally thinned, and she could see her beloved ocean. She thought about running toward it, but she’d never make it. Palmer would punish her. She remembered all the nasty, cruel instruments—the rack, whips, thumbscrews, and the chains—in the belly of his ship and shuddered, not wanting Palmer to use them on her. She hoped she’d at least be thrown in the brig and not chained to the wall like strung-up fish, waiting to be gutted and de-boned.
She walked out of the canopy of trees into the hot sun and squinted. Her limbs were bleeding and weary. She wanted to rest and wanted the damn gag out of her mouth. Her queasy stomach threatened to revolt, and she was afraid she’d choke to death on her own vomit.
A fierce pirate clasped her arm firmly, but not cruelly. He only wore breeches and a baldric. He was taller than the other men. His shoulders were slightly narrowed and his muscles weren’t as defined, but she could feel the strength in his grip. Blond strands escaped his tight queue, and his jaw was clamped shut. He didn’t even look at her, but he was a warrior, and if she tried to escape, he’d be on her faster than a running centipede. He pulled her next to him, lifting her off the ground with one arm, carrying her on his hip. She thought about wrenching free, but her legs trembled, and she was afraid she’d fall and be kicked.
Unlike Palmer, her captor didn’t stink of rotting fish. His skin glistened, and she detected the smell of coconut oil and spice and went limp in his arm. She was exhausted and needed to save her strength for when she was on the Fiery Damsel. Palmer had something nasty planned for her, and she needed to rest to fight him.
Palmer waited by a longboat, and the tall pirate brought her to him, but he didn’t leave her. In fact, he wedged himself between her and Palmer. Despite trying to brace her legs apart, Isabella swayed under the hot sun. Her throat was dry, and she couldn’t even swallow. Her stomach growled, and the men gave her smirks. One of them opened a wine bag attached to his back and took a long swig, not offering her even a single sip.
“Orders, Cap’n?” her tall captor asked.
“Put her in the boat, Jackman.”
Palmer climbed inside the boat first, and Jackman didn’t even grunt as he launched the boat into the surf. He must be incredibly strong despite his slim size. Probably more than one man had underestimated his ability and found himself facing a fierce competitor.
Jackman lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the jostling dinghy. He gently lowered her inside, opposite Palmer, and then settled himself between them. He picked up the paddle and dipped it into the ocean. Her eyes widened at the many scars on his back. He’d been cruelly punished, and some of the scars were deep. What had he done to incur Palmer’s wrath?
She stared at the water and was tempted to dive in, but she was gagged and tied and so tired. These weren’t just pirates, but vampire pirates and unusually fast. She’d not escape them. Palmer had proved this when he first captured her. She’d been helping both Ronan and Angelica escape, leading them to the Soaring Phoenix with Palmer pursuing them in the ocean. He swam as fast as a porpoise, nearly overtaking them. She’d be slower than a turtle now—easy prey.
The Fiery Damsel waited for her—a floating dungeon. She was tall, proud, and dangerous.
Palmer glanced over his shoulder. “You’ll not be my prisoner for long, girlie. Zuto’s island is not far from here, and he has a surprise for you.”
Isabella stiffened, not wanting any part of his damn surprise. She looked up into the skies, hoping to see a red dragon bearing down on them, but there wasn’t even a bird or a cloud, just a vast, depressing, blue sky.
Jackman paddled the boat to be parallel with the Fiery Damsel. Crewmen tossed down a rope ladder, and Palmer climbed up with three easy strides. Jackman pulled out a blade, and Isabella sucked in her breath. He cut off her disgusting gag, and she spit up over the boat, sucking in fresh air. She needed water to rinse out the foul taste in her mouth. He clasped her gently and inched her around so her back was facing him.
“Do not cut her bonds,” Palmer shouted.
Isabella sank into the ship. Pain throbbed in her wrists, and she could barely move her tingling fingers.
“What, Cap’n?” Jackman cried out as he slashed the binding ropes.
She winced. She rubbed her hands together, ignoring the painful tingles as blood circulated in her fingers.
“Jackman, you dolt,” Palmer growled. “You’ll pay for that.”
His fierce scowl curled her spine in fear. Jackman’s cheek twinged, but it was the only thing that showed Palmer had struck a nerve.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.
He picked her up by the waist and lifted her onto the slimy ladder. “Aye, I did. Black was my only friend on board this hell hole. I owe him. Now climb, lass, before the cap’n turns his wrath on you.”
Isabella forced her still-numb fingers to grip the slippery ladd
er. Palmer had made it look so easy, but not for her. Her foot slipped off, and she swung to the left hard, smashing her hip into the bulkhead. She cried out and would have fallen into the ocean, but Jackman caught her and gently pulled her back.
“Idiot,” Palmer grumbled.
Heat swelled on her cheeks, and tears threatened to fall, not from the throbbing pain, but from the misery roosting inside her.
“Are you hurt?” Jackman asked, concern filling his blue eyes.
“No, I’m just tired.”
“We’re almost there. I’ll climb behind you. Put your hand where I put mine, and put your foot where I put mine.”
She wanted to laugh. Unless she grew another foot, she didn’t see how this was possible, but she was too exhausted to argue. At least in her cramped, stinking cell, she could sleep and dream about Leif’s tender lovemaking.
When she was almost to the top, Palmer stretched out his hand, grabbed her by the hair—nearly tearing out a clump—and yanked her onto the ship. She screamed and collapsed onto the deck.
“You bastard, Palmer,” Jackman yelled as he jumped over the railing and rushed to her.
Palmer backhanded Jackman, knocking him flat on his back. “I’ve had enough of you. You want to save the bitch?” He grabbed his crotch. “Want to take her? You can be by her side until Zuto’s island.” He waved his hand. “Take him to the rack.”
Jackman wiped the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand. Men seized his arms, but he broke loose. Another drew a pistol on him, and Jackman glanced at it. He looked at Isabella as if he were fearful of leaving her.
Isabella shook her head. “I’ll be all right. Please go with them. It isn’t worth you getting hurt.”
“Aye.” Palmer seized her arm and hauled her to her feet. “Ye got that right, missy. Your life won’t be worth spit once Zuto’s done with you.”
He was trying to terrify her and have her beg for her life, but Isabella squared her shoulders and met his hateful gaze.
“Bah.” He tossed her to a squatty man with a double chin. “Take her below, Brennan. I don’t want to look at the bony lass until we’re at Zuto’s island.”
Two men grabbed each of her arms and dragged her down to the brig. She gagged on the foul smell of blood, gore, and filth. The smell of her beloved sea had changed to stale dampness. She didn’t fight them as they hauled her into the brig and shoved her inside the same cramped cell.
“Ye bloody fool.” One of them walked over to the rack and tightened the lever. The wheels creaked slowly. “This outta show you what happens when ye betray the captain of the Fiery Damsel.”
Sweat trickled down Jackman’s temples, and he groaned, arching his back, his muscles twisting and thinning until the manacles cut into his flesh. He panted hard. “I’ll...kill...ye, Brennan.”
His strained voice was low, and agony glimmered in his eyes.
Brennan sneered. “I doubt it. Cap’n’s not pleased with ye. You’ll be lucky if ye see the light of day.”
Isabella clasped the bars. “Stop it. Leave him alone.”
The fat pirate glared. “You should think about your own skin, wench. Zuto’s liable to flay the hide off your skinny arse.”
Isabella had to do something to stop Jackman’s tormentors. He was being so brave protecting her, and now it was her turn to save him. The idiots had forgotten to gag her. Drawing on her siren power, she took a deep breath and sang a song of mercy and kindness. In her music, she urged them to lessen the tension on the manacles. One put his hands over his ears and rushed out of the room, his face pale, but the other pudgy one wasn’t so lucky. His eyes glazed, and a piece of spit dribbled down his thick chin. He clutched the lever and reversed it, lessening the tension. The wheels slowly cranked and creaked, the chains jangling.
Jackman sank onto the rack, his breath ragged. He turned his head and looked at her uneasily. He obviously didn’t trust her, but she didn’t have time to win him over.
The fat man dropped his arms to his side and walked toward the doorway in a stupor. He climbed the stairs, his boots scraping on the wood.
Isabella stopped singing. “Jackman, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to be hurt.”
“’Tis not your fault. By the way, my first name is Cé.”
“Thanks for helping me today...Cé,” she said his name softly, and he gave her a big smile that chased away the tight lines on his stern face.
But his smile faded, and he stared up at the ceiling. “Ye know they’ll squeal to Palmer, and he’ll make it worse. He doesna like anyone to escape his punishments.”
She leaned her forehead on the cold bars. “I couldn’t let them hurt you and do nothing, not when I have the power to stop it.”
“You bitch!” Palmer yelled down the stairs, followed by heavy footsteps.
Isabella cringed.
Cé stared at the ceiling. “No matter what he does, donna interfere.”
Hate brewed in Isabella’s heart. Watching someone be tortured and doing nothing was not in her nature. It went against everything her mother had taught her. She hoped one day Leif tore out Palmer’s heart with his bare teeth.
Palmer barreled through the doorway like a bull shark ready to tear the flesh off the bones of his victims. The burns on his face seemed to have healed and unfortunately his hands were not curled into claws. ’Twas as if being on board the Fiery Damsel had helped heal him. He held a gag in his hand. “You’ll not possess my men again.” He yanked clanging keys out of his pocket and unlocked the cell.
Isabella darted to the far end. “Stay away from me.”
He pointed at Cé. “You sing. And he dies.”
She sank onto the hard bench and hung her head. “I promise I won’t. Please don’t hurt him.”
Palmer swung open the gate, banging it against the cell wall. “Damn well you won’t.” He marched over to her and gagged her with another foul-tasting rag that reminded her of sour wine. He tied it fast, the cloth cutting into the corners of her mouth. He tied her arms behind her back with a rope. The bindings bit into her flesh, and the dreaded tingles floated down her hands, turning them numb.
“Pleasant dreams, bitch. A long-lost relative is waitin’ for you on Zuto’s island.”
Isabella glowered, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. She didn’t have any missing relatives except for Mother, and she was dead.
He locked the cell, then walked over to Cé. He snatched the latch and pulled hard. The wheels cranked and pulled the chains tight. Cé arched his back as his limbs stretched tighter and tighter.
Isabella shook her head, only to have Palmer give her a deathly glare. Her vision blurred, and Palmer and Cé went in and out of focus. She couldn’t see straight. A heaviness fell over her eyes, and she swayed on the bench.
“Your stepmother awaits you,” Palmer said.
His voice was far away, as if he was calling from the top of a stairwell. Isabella slumped over on the bench, wondering why he would say this. She’d had a dream of her stepmother with Zuto on his island, but that had only been a dream—not real. Her stepmother was on the other side of the ocean, cursed into a whirlpool. The last thing she remembered before she passed out was Cé screaming in agony.
Chapter 14
“Wake up, Isabella.”
A familiar female voice penetrated Isabella’s foggy brain. ’Twas condescending and hard. She’d always hated that voice.
“What?” Isabella asked slowly. She struggled to move, but her arms were strung up over her head, and her back was pressed against something hard. Pain throbbed on the back of her head.
“I said wake up.”
Someone slapped her across the face hard. Misery slammed into her cheek, and blood seeped into her mouth. Isabella fluttered open her eyes and blinked, not sure she was seeing right. She was on a beach and dangling from a palm tree. Her toes barely touched the sand. It had to be a nightmare. Palmer or Zuto must have drugged her. This couldn’t be happening. Isabella shook her
head, not believing what she was seeing. She couldn’t breathe, as if the horrible vision had strangled her lungs. Palmer had been right. It hadn’t been a dream. ’Twas real. Charybdis—her hated stepmother—was only a few feet away, looking at her with a smug look on her heart-shaped face.
“Finally awake, princess.”
“Father cursed you.” Isabella hated herself for stumbling over her words, but her befuddled brain kept trying to connect the stars. This didn’t make sense. How could Charybdis be alive—and in human form?
“So, he did.” Charybdis moved her hands down her slim figure. “I look better than I did before.” She smiled. “Thanks to a friend.”
“Zuto?”
“You’re not so dumb after all.”
Unfortunately, Charybdis did look better than she had before. She was taller, her breasts fuller, her waist narrower, and her skin perfect. Even after being transformed into a monster, she didn’t have the slightest blemish on her porcelain face. But her green eyes were the same. They contained absolutely no warmth. She’d piled her dark hair into a loose bun, and gold earrings dangled from her delicate ears.
“Doesn’t look like you’ve fared very well, darling.” Charybdis’s voice was smooth with a hint of caring.
But Isabella knew it was a disguise. “Don’t call me that.” Charybdis only pretended to care—like when she’d try to convince Father to forgive Isabella for her mother’s death. “’Tis hard to look your best when you’re on board a pirate ship.”
“Yes, your mother didn’t fare well, either. Most disagreeably.”
“Bitch!” Isabella thrust all her hate into her voice. She pulled on her bindings but only managed to twist haplessly. Charybdis was lucky. Isabella curled her fingers, wishing she could scratch out her stepmother’s laughing green eyes.
Charybdis clutched Isabella’s chin, digging her long nails into her flesh. “You’re in no position to insult me, girl. You’re my prisoner. A helpless one, I might add.”
