Soft laughter stroked her. I must indeed, to tangle with such a reckless creature, although if your passion and beauty mirror your thoughts, death at your hands will be a pleasure. To answer your question, you summoned me.
Amina wondered if his actual voice carried the same sensual tone before she took note of his final statement. “Summon you? I didn’t summon you. How did you breach my mind? If you aren’t a djinn, then what are you? No human I’ve met has possessed the ability to enter my mind. Your taste isn’t angelic. What are you?”
She felt his attention stray, although his presence remained inside her. This time she wouldn’t attack. She’d learn more about him, find a way to defeat him. She would begin by studying his life thread.
For all his searching, her intruder hadn’t found the most precious of Lilith’s gifts — her ability to see the threads of existence in every living creature. Amina knew when the time came, a Tamahaq would use it to bring Satan to his knees.
Setting about her task, she gasped softly when she spied the twin strands of his life thread. The larger of the two pulsed with dominance, its color an explosive emerald brilliance that reminded her of a dragon eyes she’d seen in a painting. She had never seen a thread like it and reached out to touch it. A faint tremor drew her mind to the second strand.
She sucked in air. The strand was a striking sea blue and appeared docile next to its exuberant green sibling. Even so, power flowed from the blue center. Ignoring the faint alarms triggered at the back of her mind, she shifted her touch to the calm surface of the blue strand.
The gentle filament undulated, its motion a soothing balm to her anxiousness. Amina felt the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The rhythmic pulse was like a siren’s song. So pure and seductive she could not resist its pull. Her mental touch wrapped itself around the thread. For a brief moment she joyed at the contact. Then a sudden tightness gripped her chest. Intense palpitations throbbed in her heart and her palms began to burn.
She tried to break free yet the bond held her in its deadly grip. Her resistance seemed only to intensify the hold and she watched in horror as the intruder’s life thread and hers entwined. Her mouth became dry and she nervously licked the inside of her lips. If she didn’t act quickly, she and the Englishman would become life mates. Resolved to stop the merging, she pushed at the joined threads.
All motion abruptly ceased. Her startled gasp echoed in her head when the mated threads separated. She peered at her life thread. No, it couldn’t be.
Amina closed her eyes and opened them. Nothing had changed. The silver of her thread and the blue thread belonging to her invader had tangled and bled into each other until both were the color of an enraged sea. Whoever he was, the Englishman was her life mate. Their joining was unbreakable.
What have you done to me, witch?
His anger slammed into her and she reeled from the explosive attack. The question, all the more dangerous for its softness, sent shivers through Amina. “I don’t know. I wanted to—”
To control me. What did you do?
The sibilant hiss that followed his thought sent currents of fear through her. “Nothing. I swear I did nothing but search your mind. I don’t understand what happened.”
A deadening silence, and then he said, The Spanish captain wishes to surrender. We will pursue this later and you will undo this spell.
His abrupt departure took her by surprise. She expected pain and there was none. Just a hurried withdrawal from the chaos of her thoughts.
Amina’s teeth worried her bottom lip before a broken sob escaped. She tucked her knees against her chest, rested her folded arms on her knees, and lowered her forehead. “Can this day get any worse?”
After Uriel and the unknown Englishman she’d just bonded with, she couldn’t imagine what would befall her next. “Damn de Zarate and Marut to hell.”
The demon is hell-born so your curse falls on deaf ears, and de Zarate is a Spaniard. Besides, with all the battle noise, they can’t hear you.
Amina quickly hid the changes to her life thread. “Where are you, twin?”
While the English were conquering the Spanish, I’m nearing the English ship and should be there by nightfall. Stay safe until I come for you.
Another explosion rocked the Spanish galleon. The sound was too near the cabin and Amina shuddered. She was doomed to die in the middle of an ocean, alone, her broken body floating among dead Spaniards to be eaten by sea creatures. An exasperated laugh pushed into her thoughts.
A bit histrionic, don’t you think?
She ignored Siya’s mockery as smoke slowly billowed into the cabin. Her already irritated eyes began to tear. Her head ached and her body was cramped beneath the table.
Stop wallowing in self-pity, Mina. You’re Tamahaq, and I said I was coming to your rescue.
“You aren’t the one cowering like a terrified virgin, your body huddled beneath a table in a smoke-filled cabin, cannonballs tearing apart the ship, while you wait for some mindless idiot to find you with no dagger to defend yourself,” Amina snapped.
Her sister’s amusement preceded her words. Enough, your suffering moves my heart. I will hurry. Oh, mindless and idiot are the same when we speak of pirates. You need only use one word or the other, not both.
Sisterly compassion and love flowed behind the sarcasm. As Amina opened her mouth, words suddenly failed her. Blood pounded at her temples, an agonized throbbing that stripped her of coherent thought. The pads of her fingers pressed against her head as if that were enough to halt her discomfort. Her intruder had returned.
Who is Siya?
The question accompanied a warm sensation saturating her veins. Comfort. It was a tender caress to ease her trepidation.
Who is Siya?
The query came again. This time it was a curt demand. Amina recognized the mind behind it and lashed out. “Leave me alone, djinn.”
A sharp spike of pain left her gasping.
We’ve discussed this, Mina, her intruder’s amused voice stated. I am not a demon or a Spaniard, merely an Englishman. Do not name me as either.
“Demon, English, Spanish, there is no difference.”
I disagree, my spirited hawk. In time, you will learn the difference. I promise.
He withdrew from her thoughts, yet his presence lingered as if to ensure the connection. She shivered and tightened her arms around her knees as she sighed. Curiosity had led to the joining. Or was it her boast to Uriel that she’d take an Englishman to mate before she’d accept Mephistopheles?
“Words spoken in haste,” her mother once said, “can become prophetic.”
Amina couldn’t ignore what had transpired in the cabin. No matter how it happened, she was mated to the Englishman. For life. Her path circumscribed. Her body his to claim, her children his to name.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and reminded herself she was Tamahaq. The descendant of the archangel Lilith who became the human Saria, the first Tamahaq.
In her blood coursed the fierce spirit of the cheetah. It was her destiny to wage war against demons. To ensure Lilith’s gifts did not fall into Satan’s hands.
No Englishman would ever proclaim himself her master.
3
“Mind what the captain told ye, Mason,” a raspy voice ordered as the cabin door swung open. “Don’t nothing in there belongs to you. You best be bringing out whatever ye find so we can share.”
“From the looks of this place, de Zarate probably hid his jewels up his arse, knowing it was Captain Drake and the Phoenix on his tail. If I don’t find nothing here, I’ll head below.”
Amina shuddered at the explosive violence that accompanied the man’s fruitless search. Mason’s frustrated curses and the tearing of cloth echoed in the cabin. When his steps carried him near the table, she pulled her knees tighter against her chest. Her heart pounded as he circled the table and her breathing grew shallow when he halted inches from where she hid. A sudden stirring of dust tickled her throat and nose.
No, sh
e prayed. Now is not the time . . .
Her sneeze reverberated in the cabin despite the noise outside the door. The scraping of table legs on the floor sounded before a gruff voice said, “Well, well. What did ol’ Mason find here? One of the Spaniard’s precious jewels, I suspect.”
A lecherous grin split the sailor’s scarred face as he reached for her. Amina slapped his hand away, but it returned to seize her wrist and drag her from under the table. He pulled her to her feet. Blue eyes skimmed her, his grin widened and a shiver went through her. She knew exactly what the look meant. She’d seen it too many times in a Spaniard’s eyes. As Mason’s tongue licked his lips, she swore he’d have to beat her unconscious before she’d submit.
“Take your filthy hands off me,” she snarled, before spitting in his face.
The sailor’s shocked expression brought a smile to her lips. He hadn’t expected her to speak his language.
Her wrist gripped by his thick fist, she glared at him. “I said release me.”
“Where did a black slave wench like you learn to speak English?”
Amina laughed at the bewildered expression on his face. “The Spanish sailors amused themselves teaching their captives how to curse the English in their own tongue. Release me or suffer.”
“At least ye’ll be able to follow orders as I take me pleasure.” His grip tightened when she tried to pull her wrist from his hand. “Yer no match for ol’ Mason, such a little wench. Yea, I’ll have me a bit of you before I chain you with the rest of the slaves.”
The anger and frustration that had been smoldering inside her for several hours finally combusted. Without a thought for her safety, she snatched control of Mason’s thoughts. A quick search revealed his abhorrence of leeches and she began to fill his mind with thoughts of leeches slithering on his throat.
He shrieked as they multiplied and crawled inside his shirt. Mason’s howls and frantic scratching triggered Amina’s laughter. “Is this pleasing to you, filth?”
Mason’s hand suddenly dropped to his crotch. Amina’s laughter slowly died. To create and maintain the illusion, she had to ignore the agony caused by the gold collar around her neck. She knew eventually the pain would be so great she’d have to release him if she didn’t render him unconscious first.
Sparks of fire erupted at in his groin, adding to his misery. With each flare of pain across his nerve endings, she felt it at the base of her neck where the metal lay.
Her teeth clenched, she hurled a curse at one who bound her. “Damn you, Uriel.”
I am already damned if Raphael’s version of the prophecy is infallible. If you have doubts, accept Satan’s sovereignty and the collar vanishes and your suffering will end.
“You waste your time,” she hissed. “The English dog and I will die together before I submit to you, or him.”
I doubt Raphael will allow you to die, Amina, so I shall leave you in the throes of your pain.
Uriel’s vicious laughter faded. Amina stared at Mason. Sweat pooled on the man’s forehead, rolling in fat beads down the sides of his face and onto the floor. He hopped awkwardly from one foot to the other, one hand clawing at his groin and the other scratching at his chest.
“No,” she moaned when an unexpected lightheadedness started to descend. The tether between her mind and his became frayed as her control weakened. Panic seized her and she reached out to mend the connection to the sailor’s awareness.
Stop, Amina.
She hesitated at the authoritative voice inside her head before she pushed it away. “Leave me alone, Uriel. I will not submit.”
I am not Uriel. Look closely.
The authority in the voice was stronger this time. She held tightly to the illusion she’d woven and directed a small part of her mind to the voice. The Englishman.
“Where are you? We are life mates. Why haven’t you stopped him?”
I’m on my way to the cabin now. Release him. You only hurt yourself. I will deal with Mason.
No. Her mind snapped the word across her intruder’s thoughts like a whip. I will not be raped.
Before she could block him, he wrested her will from her, taking control of her mind. She could only watch helplessly as his immense power imposed itself between her and Mason. Time stood still for what seemed like infinity before she screamed her indignation and pushed outward. An eruption of emerald fire was the last thing she saw before darkness fell.
Michael Drake strode into the disheveled cabin, his green eyes sweeping the room before locking on his sailor. “Get away from her, Mason. She is not yours to swive.”
Mason stood hunched over Amina’s unconscious body, the nightmarish pain gone. Mason’s head jerked up and the snarl on his lips died when he saw the expression on his captain’s face. He unclenched his fist at Drake’s command.
“Why’re ye gettin’ in a hot pot about a Moorish wench, Captain? I only wanted relief and then I’d ’a taken her to the Phoenix with the rest of the slaves. Not like ye to care about a negress.”
Drake’s gaze flickered to the unconscious woman at Mason’s feet. The sight of Amina’s bruised face twisted his gut. From the moment he’d answered her summon, he sensed an unbreakable connection to the woman, an attachment that enticed him to seek her out. Their minds conjoined, he’d watched her battle Mason’s efforts with the tenacity of a hawk trying to break its jess, willing to die rather than suffer captivity.
So why did he care when he’d never given a thought to what happened to the women taken captive? As long as none of the enslaved were seriously damaged or killed, he didn’t care that his men satisfied their lust on the women. What made this woman so different he had raced to the cabin to prevent Mason’s assault?
She’s different because she is your life mate.
Drake ignored the familiar voice at the back of his mind. Instead, he peered at his sailor. “Are you questioning an order, Mason?”
“No, Captain Drake,” Mason stammered. He glanced at Amina and back to Drake. “You want me to take her to the Phoenix?”
“Weren’t you given orders to search the galleon?”
“Aye.”
“Then I believe you should be about it.”
Mason scratched his crotch one last time and hurried to the door. With a backward look at his captain, the sailor left the cabin.
Drake’s piercing gaze followed the man’s departure. Mason had no idea that his mind lay open to his captain. Mumbled curses on his lips, the sailor briefly toyed with the idea of making a claim for Amina as part of the spoils. The notion started to anchor itself until images of another sailor’s death for disobedience crossed his mind. Mason hurried away from the cabin, determined to find another woman to satisfy his lust.
A soft moan brought Drake’s attention back to the unconscious woman on the floor. A rush of anger filled him as he went to Amina. Kneeling beside her, he gently examined her slender brown body. His hand moved slowly along her hip. Warmth heated his palm, sparking a slow burning desire at the bottom of his stomach and a growing erection.
He stopped himself from exploring further. His fingers sought the smoothness of her cheek. It was like silk beneath his touch. He tenderly caressed the nasty bruise on her left cheek. It was a sin to mar such beauty.
“What were you thinking, hawk? You’re no match for a hardened sailor in the throes of lust.”
He gently cradled her in his arms and stood. There was something natural about how she felt in his embrace. His gaze followed the slow rise and fall of her breasts, the black silk of her gown clinging like moss to an oak. Her mouth became pinched and she groaned. He wasn’t certain whether the sound was born of anger or pain.
Drake watched her lips move as if she spoke to someone. Whoever she was, Amina held a power he’d not seen in anyone except himself. He wasn’t certain what kind of threat she posed to his ship and crew but she was dangerous. He had no doubt once she awakened her talons would be flexed and sharp.
Until he knew more about this supernatural wom
an, he’d treat her as an enemy until proven otherwise.
Light pricked the delicate skin of Amina’s eyelids and pain licked at the edges of her mind. I’m not dead.
A cacophony of sounds added to the ache in her head and she wished the noise would silence itself. Instead, like the shrill buzzing of flies, English words forced themselves into her brain. The harsh sound rubbed against sensitive nerve endings.
Then a mewling cry in Spanish reached her ears. Some captured sailor begging for mercy. His pleas irritated her and she started to enclose her mind in quiet until an excited chirping shunted past the voices. A faint tapping sent a rush of joy through her.
Asiya.
Amina slowly lifted her eyelids. She squinted against the bright sunlight and looked around. She was on the galleon’s deck, the sea air a relief after the smoke-filled cabin. As she inhaled, a sharp pain fisted in her chest, forcing her to take shallow breaths until the ache eased. She lifted her hand to massage the soreness, only to be brought up short by the weight of chains. Her fury exploded in a single utterance. “The Englishman.”
Her eyes searched the deck until she spied the sailor who attacked her. Mason. Rising to her knees, she gathered her power and attacked. Pulsating light shimmered across her skin, heat leaching from her, like tiny insects, to leap onto the unwary sailor. Mason’s howls blistered the air and added both delight and fuel to her fury. She ignored the slow burn crawling along her flesh from the demon collar and drove the man’s pain home.
Enough Mina. You will destroy yourself along with the Englishman.
She delivered one last burst and abandoned her revenge. You can stop interfering, Siya. My anger is sated.
Revenge momentarily satisfied, she watched the English sailors transport the galleon’s treasures to their ship. Her gaze drifted to where captured Spaniards sat in a single row near the railing, their hands and feet manacled. Unable to stiff her glee at their reversal of fortune, she wondered if any of them understood the English taunts flung at them.
Fate's Match Page 3
