It was impossible to collect the rainwater, so I closed the window, took my chances, and sipped some of the drink. I was sure it was rum, a pirate’s favorite drink. All historical books couldn’t have gotten that wrong. Warmth snaked through me as I sipped more. It wasn’t so bad now. Or my taste buds were closed up and didn’t detect a thing. I kept at it until I finished it.
Oh, nice. I felt much better.
I moved from the bedroom to the living room, grinning when things appeared to move. Magic. This place was full of it. Maybe I could escape if I knew magic. I waved my hand at the candles and ordered them to turn off.
Nothing happened.
“Abra-ca-dabra,” I said with a bit more flare.
The damn candles burned steadily. That was it. A sign that I belonged back at home, where I could take care of Sienna for a year, save Tommy, then head to college to study journalism. I was meant to be the greatest investigative reporter that ever lived, not a mate to a silver-eyed pirate.
I went to the window and stared at the trees, wondering what had happened to the horses. The Sinclairs owned a stable full of beautiful horses, and Sienna and I would ride together. Her trainer had even taught me how to ride without a saddle. I loved horses.
Sighing and fighting sudden fatigue, I made my way back to the bedroom. The room was spinning, so it took a while before I reached the bed and fell on top of it, corset and all. No, not corset. Bodice. What century did people wear bodices and layered skirts? I closed my eyes and sighed.
Lightning crackled, followed by a deep rumble. If only the bolts could strike the island and reduce it to ashes, it would be the perfect ending to a very shitty day. I grinned at my thoughts. Then I immediately felt bad. There were kids on this island, innocents in my kidnapping. They were future pirates and kidnappers, though. After all, their people needed us to survive.
A clap of thunder came from the vicinity of the living room, and I tried to sit, but my bed was spinning now. The sound appeared to move closer. This was what came from wishing for bad things to happen to children. You got struck by lightning. No, not lightning. Storm.
My heart pounding, I waited for him to enter the room. Even in my rum-induced state, I could tell when he was around.
“Are you awake, Alexandria?” His voice sounded funny.
“Get lost.” I closed my eyes tight, yet I knew when he moved away. The heat went with him. I grinned. Before I could celebrate, he was back. The mattress dipped and something soft covered me.
“I’m sorry I was short with you earlier,” he whispered.
Now he feels guilty. Big whoop. Something warm and gentle stroked my cheek. I reached up to swat at it, but my movements were sluggish. He caught my hand and stroked it, his touch gentle and soothing.
“We lost two men tonight who didn’t need to die. Their wives lost mates, and their children will never know their fathers.” Outside, lightning flashed and thunder rolled. “Losing a mate is the worst thing that can happen to anyone in my world. It rips you apart and leaves you exposed and vulnerable. Life ceases to matter.”
He sounded so sad and heartbroken. Thunder and lightning continued to vent. Rain came down hard, pelting the windows. I lay still, praying the spinning would stop and I’d sink into oblivion, yet I wanted to hear more. He was my train wreck.
“It’s not just Tullius’s fault,” he continued. “It’s mine, too. He wants me dead, but every time he comes after me, I lose a brother or a sister, and a part of me dies with them.” A tortured sigh escaped him.
Silence stretched. Part of me wanted to turn around and comfort him, but I knew that was the rum talking. He was my kidnapper, damn it. His hand moved to my hair. He stroked it. His warmth moved closer, and I knew he’d smelled my hair. I’d never met a man with a hair fetish like him.
“At least one good thing came out of it this time. I found you. I know all this is new and scary to you, but I promise to explain everything and give you time to get used to who and what I am. I don’t want you to be scared of anything, most of all me. I just want a chance to teach you our ways and show you that underneath this monster is a potential mate.” The wind picked up, howling harder. His voice changed as he continued. It became soft. “All I ask for is a chance to prove to you that I’m your true mate. That I’m worthy of you.”
Start by taking me home, pal. He pressed a kiss on my temple and moved away, taking his warmth with him. The door closed behind him, and I was left spinning with questions. Which one was the real Storm? The man who called himself a monster and didn’t apologize for it, or the tortured one that hurt when his people died?
CHAPTER 7
More rain, thunder, and lightning greeted me the next day. The pounding in my head only made things worse. I sat up and moaned.
Stupid rum.
I crawled out of bed and was halfway across the room when I realized I was wearing the nightgown Delia had left on the bed and nothing under it. Who had removed my clothes? Surely, not Storm. God, I hoped it wasn’t him.
I pushed open the wardrobe. I needed to pee so badly and pressed my thighs together. Waddling like a penguin, I searched for a toilet. If I had to squat over a bucket, I was going to scream. Since these people dressed like they were from medieval times, chances that they had a real toilet were slim to none.
Then I saw another door. Praying it led to a toilet, I pushed it. The room had a wide, triangular box and in the middle of the box was a copper lid. On the left side was a basket with pieces of leftover fabric one would collect from a seamstress’s shop, and on the right was a pitcher of water. I wasn’t sure what the cloths were for, but I’d read that a lot of people in other cultures used water to clean up after using a toilet.
I lifted the lid and peered inside. Nothing but darkness. Did it lead to the canal running through the island? Hygiene hadn’t been a priority in medieval times. On the other hand, Storm and his friends crossed over to our world often and we had indoor plumbing.
Instead of worrying about sewer and indoor plumbing, I sat and peed, then selected a piece of cloth and dabbed before using some of the water in the pitcher to rinse my hands.
Bumps came from the living room, making my roaring headache worse. I recognized Delia’s voice. I barely closed the toilet door when the other door opened without a knock.
Great. Zero privacy.
“Oh there you are, lass.” Delia held the door, and three women entered with buckets of hot water, which they poured into the tub. There were rose petals in the water. The women smiled tentatively at me and filed out again.
“You can eat breakfast while they fill up the tub,” Delia said.
“What’s the faucet and pump for?” I asked, pointing.
“Cold water pumped from the canal. The lasses will pump some after they bring enough hot water. I’ll have someone bring you a scented, soft soap. It is perfect for delicate skin like yours and has healing properties. Our soap makers add oils from seeds, herbs, and flowers. The robe for drying is there.” She pointed to one on a peg. “Clothes are hanging on the screen.” Most of the clothes she’d brought last night were draped on the stuffed chair by the screen.
I followed her into my bedroom. There was bread, meat smothered in the same nasty sauce as last night, and a bowl of what looked like oatmeal. I hated oatmeal.
“Last night when I came back to check on you, you were fast asleep. It took some maneuvering, but we managed to remove your clothes and get you into that shirt.”
My stomach dipped. “We?”
“One of the lasses helped. Eat. I’m going to make sure we have enough hot water.”
“Could I have fresh water to drink?”
“Is rain water okay, or do you want some from the springs?” she asked. “I can send one of the lasses to get some from Moria’s lake.”
“No, rainwater is fine.”
Once she left, I started with the bread. One lick of the sauce on the meat and I confirmed what I’d already suspected. It was the same nastiness. I was goi
ng to live on bread and water in this place. I tried the oatmeal, bracing myself for the same bland taste I’d always associated with it or too many spices as with the meat sauce.
Yum. Like the bread, it was good. Tart with just the right amount of sweetness. My head wasn’t pounding by the time I finished. Delia returned with a copper jar of water and a goblet. She looked at the tray, saw the uneaten meat, and sighed.
“You really should try the meat after eating the osuga leaves. The sauce is the most important part of our diet. You cannot live without it.”
Good thing I had no intention of living here. “Next time.”
She smiled. “Then into the tub you go.”
I grabbed the water and goblet, and took them with me. Her eyes followed me all the way to the wardrobe slash bathroom entrance. I chugged two more goblets of water before stripping and getting into the tub. The water was delightful, and the rose petals made the room smell nice. The soap was soft and smelled nice, too. I left it for later.
Delia’s low-pitched voice came from the other room, then silence. I slid under the water and closed my eyes, the warmth transporting me back to my childhood. My father had found it amusing whenever I’d do this and make faces at him from under the water. He’d call me his little changeling.
One second I was reliving my most cherished memories. The next, someone grabbed my shoulders and hauled me upright in the tub. I stared into Storm’s silver eyes in shock.
“What are you trying to do?” he snarled. “Kill yourself?”
My mouth opened and closed. He looked like he hadn’t slept. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was a tangled mess. The shock wore off, and annoyance crept in.
“No, I’m not. Let go. I can stay under water longer than most people.”
His eyes lost the crazed look, and they drifted lower. My body was visible under the clear water, and his gaze felt like a physical caress. My nipples responded, and tingling sensations skidded underneath my skin. I slapped a hand across my chest and tucked my legs to hide the rest of my body.
“Out,” I snapped. Something shifted in the depths of his eyes, silver becoming a molten mass of dark emotions.
“You don’t want me to do that, lass,” he said, voice smooth and silky. I wish I hated his accent. The problem was it was too damn seductive.
“I do. I mean it.” Dang it. Where are the heat and outrage in my voice? “Please, just go.”
“I can’t,” he whispered, tortured eyes returning to my face. “I’ve waited so long for you.”
My resolve slipped a notch, and I wanted to slap myself.
“If you can’t respect my wishes…” My mouth went dry and my ability to speak disappeared with it. One second he was staring at me as though it hurt him to look at me, and the next his hand was gripping the back of my head. How did he move so fast? He smiled, looking more like the plundering pirate he was.
“Storm, don’t!” I warned him when his head lowered.
“I don’t think respect is what you want from me, lass,” he said, his accent stronger. “And because of that, I dare.” His mouth closed over mine with a sense of urgency that robbed me of breath.
He tasted of rum and something decadent, his mouth demanding. He nipped my bottom lip, and I gasped. He took advantage and pushed his tongue past the seam of my mouth. His tongue swept mine, and I lost the battle.
Sensations exploded in my mouth and fanned out like petals of a flower opening for the first time to the warm rays of the sun. I tried to focus on fighting the effects of his kiss, but he dominated my senses, robbing me of the ability to think. All I could do was feel as my body became alive and an ache started between my legs.
A groan escaped him as he deepened the kiss. Or was I the one moaning? I reached up to push him away. I meant to. I really did. But when my other hand came up, I grabbed his shirt and hung on. He lost his balance and landed in the tub with me, water sloshing and spilling on the stone floor.
The movement broke the kiss, and I wasn’t sure whether I was annoyed or relieved. He stared at me, his breathing harsh, his eyes darkened to stormy gray. For one brief moment, time stood still as we stared at each other. Then his lips twitched, and his eyes twinkled.
“If you laugh, I’m going to drown you,” I warned.
“Please do.” Then he buried his face in the water, and I realized he could see my body. Crap.
I gripped his hair and pulled, but it was like moving a boulder. Worse, he curled those endless legs of his and joined me in the tub, clothes, boots, and all, water spilling everywhere. Before I could recover, something hot swept the space between my breasts.
Did he? It happened again. He was licking my skin.
“Storm.” I yanked his hair this time. “You conniving bastard. Get. Off. Me.”
He looked up, his eyes twinkling. “Lass, please. One more lick and then I’ll leave. I promise.”
“Touch me and I’ll scalp you.”
“Scalp away. I don’t care about my hair. Two licks. One on each, then I’ll stop.”
Each what? I gasped when he dunked his head and took my nipple into his mouth. His elbows rested on either side of me, his hands sliding up my back to pull me closer to his face. I stopped breathing as something flooded my body.
Holy crap! That wasn’t a lick. That was an invasion of my senses, and it was… It was amazing. He suckled hard, teasing the tight tip with his tongue, shooting heat and need through me. My mind screamed no, but my body ceased to listen. It stopped belonging to me anymore. It was his to play with, and with every lick, my ability to resist weakened. I tried. I really did, but I found myself pressing against him, my hands gripping the edges of the tub.
When his teeth grazed the tight nub, I whimpered and my body jerked in response. Without lifting his head to breathe, he shifted to the other breast. It didn’t cross my mind to worry about him drowning. I closed my eyes, and a moan escaped me as I let him introduce me to this new world of sensations.
After all, he is your mate, a voice said in the back of my head.
Sanity returned. No, he was not my mate. He was a pirate and my kidnapper. I gripped his face, used my knees and elbows, and shoved. He resisted for a second as though he just had to take one last lick, then lifted his head. My fist connected with his cheek, and he didn’t even flinch. I was the one left with hurting knuckles.
“I wasn’t done, lass,” he complained in an aggrieved voice.
“Yes, you are. Get out of the tub.” I used all my limbs to push him, but he was big and heavy and looked annoyingly pleased with himself, like he’d discovered Nirvana.
“You can’t be serious. I’m wet. Even my boots are soaked. Can’t I just strip and join you? You can help.”
The very idea was… scandalous. “It’s not my fault you are in here.”
“Actually it is. You pulled me—”
“Oh, just shut up and get out, Storm.” I pushed on his shoulders. “Not a word,” I added when he opened his mouth. “I’m sure you used your mind control mojo crap to make me, uh, you know, submit.”
“No, I didn’t. But if you like, I’ll zip it and we can do it all over again.” He leaned in, and I palmed his face and pushed.
“No, you jackass! Forget I said anything. Just get out.”
He gave a longsuffering sigh and hauled himself out of the tub, the water spilling. I angled my body away from him.
“Your back is just as enticing as your front, muh’Lexi.”
I groaned. I’d thoroughly humiliated myself by letting him touch me and loving every minute of it. “Go away.”
“After I get rid of these.”
Get rid of what? My eyes went to the mirror across the room. He sat on the edge of the tub removing his soaked boots, his back to me and the mirror. He threw the boots on the floor and stood. I stared in shock as he pulled off his shirt and reached for his pants.
He had no sense of decency. And apparently neither did I. I didn’t look away. I couldn’t. He pulled his pants and underw
ear off. I’d seen him naked before, but that was nothing compared to now. He had a beautiful ass and powerful thighs, and when he turned and faced me, my eyes widened at his erection. I swallowed.
“Can I come back in the tub now?” he asked.
My face burning, I closed my eyes and refused to answer him. I heard him chuckle. Then he walked around the tub and stroked my hair. I swatted at his hand.
“It’s okay, muh’Lexi. It was only fair you see me naked, too. Don’t stay in there for too long, or you’ll turn into a prune.” He moved away, and the door opened.
I took a peek to see him walk out naked, not caring that he might meet with Delia or one of the women who’d brought the hot water. He was shameless.
As though he knew I was watching him, he glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. My entire body flushed. I slid lower into the water, but the warmth of the water could not replace the heat from Storm’s body or erase the effect of his kiss. I closed my eyes, accepting something I hadn’t considered before. I was out of my depth.
Not only was I in a strange land with no means of getting home, I was under the thumb of a man who had an amazing ability to storm through my defenses with words, a look, or a touch. He pushed my buttons without trying. How was I going to face him after this?
I went under completely and stayed there until I saw a face staring down at me. It was Delia. I didn’t want to deal with her either.
I lifted my head out of the water and said, “Please, I’d like some privacy.”
“Okay, lass. I’ll send one of the girls to help you dress.”
“No. I’ll be fine.” I wasn’t leaving the tub until I turned into a prune. Maybe he wouldn’t want me then. And he did want me, judging by that massive erection he hadn’t tried to hide. He was a big man. Not that I’d seen naked men for comparison, but damn.
Storm: Phantom Islanders Part I Page 11
