by ML Guida
She cried out as a sharp white pain seized her.
The moment he shifted, her muscles clamped down on him, shooting sensations through her as he withdrew and entered again. He kissed and licked her neck, his hair teasing her molten skin. Thrills rushed over her hot body. She could not think, could not cry out. All she could do was follow his lead. Pain gave away to carnal excitement that fired through her body, heart, mind, soul. ’Twas magic.
He kissed her. “Only pleasure will fill you now.”
He slid his hands over her body, and he toyed with her nipple, pinching it. She cried out in surprise at the orgasms that swelled through her. William began to move his hips back and forth. Her muscles stretched, accommodating his size, and she sucked in her breath at the stimulating friction between them, so intimate, so intense, so sensual. She matched his pace, copying his rhythm, taking him deeper and deeper inside her.
Mariah’s body rippled with life, the pain replaced with undeniable elation each time he rocked his hips, sending a swell of dazzling rhapsody through her. Her world narrowed to one man, a pirate, his body matching her movements. Magic flowed through her veins, her pulse pounded in her ears. His flesh drove deeper into hers, long surges that welded them together, sealing their bond. Did William realize what this meant? Did she realize what this meant? Their destiny was now unbreakable.
She was bound to a man who distrusted magic. How would this ever work?
William arched his back and roared. His hot seed spilled inside her.
Ignoring her doubts, Mariah wrapped her arms around William’s neck and pulled him to her. He was buried deep inside her, and she didn’t want him to pull out. She brushed her leg across his powerful thigh, his strength never failing to astonish her. His rapidly pounding heart matched her own. They were spent, two warring halves, melded into one.
“I don’t know what came over me.” He pushed her hair away from her face.
“You regret this.” She couldn’t help the sadness that crept into her voice. She had wanted this and thought he did too.
“No.” He moved his palm down the front of her, brushing over her sensitive breast. “Never. I’ll always want you,” he murmured.
Pulsing sensations rushed over Mariah. She glanced down. His thumb stroked her budded nipple, and she trembled.
She stared up into his eyes and wanted more than passion from her dragon. She pushed back her disappointment. She wanted him to care for her, to whisper words a man would say to the woman he loved.
He slowly withdrew from her, and his strong arms held her. He turned her around. Heat flamed her cheeks at his possessive gaze. “My God, you’re beautiful, Mariah.”
He was beautiful too. His skin shone, and his chest heaved. He bent to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her. She arched her back, nestling against him.
Footsteps pounded into the crew’s quarters. She broke off his kiss. Mortification filled her. “William,” she whispered.
“Invisible.”
She could barely hear his husky voice.
The same mist flowed out of his nostrils, rushing over them and once again, tingles swept over Mariah, and she and William faded. He quickly lifted her off the floor and pressed the back of his body against hers.
Ronan ripped open the flap that led into Mariah’s make-shift room, tearing the ties. “Mariah, where the hell are you?”
Mariah clung to William. Ronan couldn’t see them, but their clothes were discarded in a pile on the floor. She glanced at the wetness on her leg, and to her horror, drops of blood pooled onto the white blanket.
His face pale, Ronan unsheathed his sword. “O’Brien, damn you. Show yourself, you bastard. What have you done with Mariah?”
She shrank at the anger and hurt in his voice.
Chapter 17
Lark dangled from a wooden stake implanted deep in the ground, his throbbing arms stretched high over his head. His throat was parched, and he didn’t have enough spit to swallow.
Boom-boom Boom-boom Boom-boom
His head and heart pounded so hard he thought they’d exploded.
Brittle grass walls surrounded him, and the sun streamed through slots of the uneven slats of the ceiling, casting bars of light onto his body and the floor. He had been dragged from the belly of the Fiery Damsel to a grass hut on Zuto’s island. The demon himself hadn’t made an appearance, but his power radiated throughout the island. Lark felt his presence. Zuto was stronger than Natasa but unpredictable.
An ocean breeze blew the crooked door open, shaking the walls. The chains over his head clanged against the stake, and he swayed like a pendulum, straining his twisted muscles. Pain pulsed through him as the manacles cut deeper into his wrists.
He inhaled and wished he could smell the fragrant grass and sea, not his overpowering stench of sweat, urine, and raw flesh. He stared at a brass tub filled with clean water. All he had to do was say aye to Natasa and lose his soul, and he could soak in the bath.
His stomach growled, and he swallowed, barely rousing enough spit. He did not possess the power to splash any of the water onto his sweating body. The temptation to give into Natasa beat upon him. Physical torture was better than staring at the tub. God, he wanted to wash away the black magic filth so badly. He could take pain. Take whatever the bitch would wield upon him. But this mind game was far worse. He hated to admit it—Natasa was winning. He did not know how much longer he could endure. He was a simple man, not a hero.
Enough.
Help, he needed help. He closed his eyes and drew on his power. Mariah. He needed to appear in her dream. The Phoenix might never find him on this dreaded island otherwise.
Tingles crept over his skin as the magic swirled inside him. An image of Mariah appeared in his mind, and he focused all his energy onto her. The yari slowly tightened around his neck, spiking into his flesh.
“Mariah,” he choked. “Hear me. S’il vous plaît.”
“Cease.” Natasa stood in the doorway. Her deep scowl meant another encounter of agony.
A sharp pain pierced his chest, and he bit back an anguished cry. Blood seeped from a fresh deep cut under his right nipple.
“Spells equal pain, handsome.” She snapped her fingers. “Bring it in, slaves.”
He braced himself for whatever new torture the bitch had planned. A native man brought in a wooden table and a chair, followed by three native women who carried trays laden with bananas and slices of mangoes sprinkled with shredded coconut. Another plate had strips of cooked pork that taunted his senses. A large pitcher of water was set in between the plates of food. Lark licked his lips, and his stomach grumbled.
Nasta gestured with her hand. “Put the table in front of him. The bath may not tempt you, witch, but I know you’re hungry and thirsty.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your stench is rancid, and I know you grow weary of it. Food and thirst will be your undoing.”
“Merde! You are daft.” Lark’s hoarse voice sounded more animal than human.
“All you have to do is swear your allegiance to me. You can come down off that stake and soak in the tank while these women feed you. I’ll even have one of these women care to your needs—scrub your back, wash your hair. One little word—” she stretched her arms. “—and all this is yours.”
“Never,” he growled.
The beautiful young women refilled the tub with steamy hot water, and Lark yearned to soak, to wash the filth from the Damsel’s brig, to ease the insect bites covering his dry skin. He tore his gaze from the alluring bath and could not help but lust over the women’s curves and shapely legs. He ached to feel those soft hands washing his body. His heart beating wildly, he clamped his jaw tight, not trusting himself to say no to Natasa’s snare.
The tallest man Lark had ever seen stormed into the hut, carrying a wooden chair and a pair of trousers and a shirt. “Where do you want these?” His angry voice sent a wave of uneasiness through Lark..
Natasa smiled sweetly. “Next to the tub.”
The half-naked
man flung the chair down and tossed the clothes onto the seat. “Satisfied?” He turned his back to Lark. Bloody welts and bruises marred the man’s flesh. Hot tingles flowed over Lark like rivers of lava and every hair on his body stood up. Power not just strength, emitted from the man.
“No. Hang the clothes across the back of the chair neatly.”
“There. Happy?”
Natasa ran her hand over the man’s arm. “Why must you be so stubborn, Zuto?”
Zuto?
“I have more important tasks to do than play these games of yours.”
Lark didn’t understand why the powerful demon did as Natasa asked. What hold did she have over him?
“They’re not games.” She tilted her head. “See? The witch is weakening.”
Zuto stared at Lark as if it were some kind of test between good and evil. Lark squirmed under the scrutiny. He was slipping, and he knew it.
He shrugged. “He’s foolish and weak, if he gives into these temptations. He won’t be much use to us.”
“I am not weak,” he mumbled, but his voice shook. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want Zuto to think he was a sniveling codfish.
Zuto smirked. “Yes, you are.” He tilted his head. “You can’t take your eyes off the bath or these damn clothes. You shame your family.”
Lark wanted to argue, but what was his defense? He did want the bath and to wear clean clothes. He was a disgrace.
“Zuto, whose side are you on?”
“Mine.”
She raised her fist.
Zuto grabbed her wrist. “Don’t strike me.”
She ripped her hand out of his grip. “I’ll…Wait. Where are you going?”
“I’m done here.”
“No, you’re not.”
Zuto stopped in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. “What do you want, wench?”
“I need to know what powers you gave that pet dragon of yours.”
“He’s not my pet.” Zuto cocked his eyebrow and folded his arms across his broad chest. “Why do you want to know?”
“I can’t focus on the bitch or your damn pet.”
“If you can’t contact her, or focus on the dragon, then obviously she’s no longer a virgin and mated with the dragon.” His voice was tired and annoyed. “Use your head, Natasa.”
Lark winced.
Nasta clapped her hands. “Slaves, leave us.”
The servants bowed to her and hurried out of the hut.
Natasa tapped her chin. “Let’s see, what should we talk about?”
Zuto snorted.
Natasa picked up the pitcher and poured water into a glass. “The water here is so fresh, cool and clean.” She cast her gaze over Lark, and he shuddered. “Much better than what you’ve been given aboard the Fiery Damsel.” She raised the glass. “Want some?”
Oui! Dieu, oui! Lark refused to answer.
“Oh, are we going to be silent again?” She took a sip then licked her ruby lips. “So good.”
Lark swallowed, hating himself for wanting the tiniest sip. Zuto was right. He was weak.
“I see it in your eyes. You want this.” She put the glass down and sauntered over to the tub. She dipped her hand into the water and splashed water onto Lark. Warm droplets streamed down his skin, weaving a line of cleanliness through the dried blood coating Lark’s skin. He sighed, wishing she’d splash him again and again.
Do. Not. Give. In.
Natasa laughed and tossed her head back. “You’ll be mine soon.” Her eyes darkened. “I have a question I need answering.” She traced her hand on his damp chest. “Is your sister a virgin?”
Lark glared. “Why?”
“Tell me,” she purred. “Is she?”
“Burn in hell.” For the first time, his voice grew louder with each word.
“By your answer, I don’t think you know. Not that close with your sister, eh?” She chuckled and grabbed the back of his arse and squeezed. “Such a handsome man. At least you used to be.” She cupped his balls. “Soon you’ll be deep inside me.”
“Never!”
She patted his arse again and walked away, her hips swaying. He glared at her, dreading she was right. If he turned to the dark side, he would lay with her and become her depraved lover. Mon Dieu! Mariah, help me, before ’tis too late.
“If the dragon and witch have mated and she was a virgin, then they’ll be coming.”
“Apparently.” Zuto’s droll tone gave Lark a spark of hope.
She spread her hands wide. “We no longer have the advantage. We need a plan.”
Zuto tilted his head. “So, make one.”
She pounded her fist into Zuto’s chest.
He lifted his eyebrow. “Maketabori will not be happy if he doesn’t get Hannah Knight. You’ve failed.”
“You mean we’ve failed,” she said.
“’Tis not my fault.” Zuto’s mouth curved, but the smile never reached his eyes.
“’Tis the crew of the Soaring Phoenix. Their meddlesome interference continues to block my plans. Maketabori can’t possibly blame me.”
“I hope the master sees it your way.”
“Ooooo!” She slapped him across the face.
Zuto laughed.
“Unless you hand over the bitch and her father. You’ll always be my slave. You best remember that—lover.” Despite the rage in her voice, Lark could detect a bit of fear and he had to hid his smile.
Zuto stopped laughing and glowered. The light dimmed, and the hut shook. Power laced with evil vibrated and sparked across Lark’s flesh.
Natasa stepped away from Zuto and put her hand on her throat. “Do not try and frighten me.” She stood tall, her back straight, but the tremor was still in her voice that belied her fortitude. She stalked out of the quaking hovel and left Lark with an angry demon.
Zuto walked around him. “Still trying to defy her?”
Lark didn’t answer.
The demon stopped in front of him. “’Tis useless, you know. She’s evil. You’ll lose.”
Not wanting to admit the inevitable, Lark moistened his cracked lips. “Why does she care if Mariah is a virgin or not?”
Zuto cocked his eyebrow. “You don’t know?”
“Forget it.” He couldn’t even muster the strength to force his weary voice to argue with the inquisitive demon.
“You and I are the same, witch. Both trapped in hell. Sex magic is powerful.”
“I know this.”
“Yes, but did you know when a witch mates with a shape-shifter, their powers grow? But for them to be unstoppable, there needs to be one more ingredient.”
“What ingredient?”
“Love. Or at least that’s what the lore says. I, for one, think ’tis nonsense.”
“Nonsense?”
“’Tis a fantasy. Love isn’t more powerful than black magic.”
Lark shook his head. “You are wrong, Zuto. Love is the only thing that matters in this world.”
“’Tis why you are weak.” Zuto glanced at him and at the door. “You’d better pray to your God ’tis true. Natasa won’t stop at anything to reach her goal and please our master.”
“She wants Capitaine Knight and his daughter.”
“True. But they are not the only ones she wants.”
“My sister?” He hesitated to ask, but needed to know. “Pourquoi?”
Zuto opened the door and stared at Lark. “You’ve called upon your sister with your spell.”
Lark stiffened.
“Yes, I felt your magic. A mistake—one you will soon regret. Your sister will be dead soon.”
“No, she’s more powerful than you think.”
“Ah, not against a dragon. When she reaches the island, my dragon will fall under my command and kill her.”
He left. Pain, hate and anguish strangled Lark’s heart. He released a piercing howl. What had he done? He’d called Mariah to this dreaded island only to sign her death decree.
Chapter 18
William�
��s gut shot up his throat as Ronan entered Mariah’s cabin. Although invisibility cloaked them, William shielded Mariah with his naked body. Heat burned William’s cheeks at the sight of his wounded friend. Neat stitches ran along Ronan’s right cheek. His face was still blotchy and bruised, and his left eye was swollen shut. His vampire powers hadn’t yet healed him.
Ronan used the tip of his sword to lift Mariah’s gown off the floor. Blood stained the woven blanket where Mariah had lain, evidence of her lost maidenhood. He knelt next to the blanket and dipped his finger into the blood. “My God, Mariah, where are you?” Ronan clutched her gown. “Are you hurt?”
William sucked in his breath and hung his head. He was a cad. Taking the lass’s innocence to satisfy his own lust.
“I can hear ye breathin’, O’Brien.” Ronan dropped the gown and rose to his feet, both hands gripping his sword. “What have ye done with the lass? I’ll kill you, dragon, if you hurt her.”
“Mariah is ours”.
Drakon hissed in William’s ear. His fists clenched, William growled.
Ronan whipped his head around. “Show yourself, damn it.”
“Kill him.”
William’s heart pounded harder and harder. The dragon’s power threatened to unleash. He struggled to gain control, to stay human, but his flesh tingled, and muscles rippled beneath his skin. He was losing control.
Mariah clasped his arms, her naked body pressed against his. “No,” she whispered. “Be calm, oui?”
“Mariah?” Ronan turned around in a circle.
William fought to keep from changing into the dragon and ripping Ronan apart. He closed his eyes and inhaled, trying to push back his anger, but power surged through him. Drakon demanded blood.
Mariah rubbed his back, her nails gently drawing on his flesh. She kissed his back, and he groaned, muscles unwound. Lust flowed through his veins, anger forgotten. Drakon relaxed.
“O’Brien,” Ronan demanded. “Where are ye, ye bastard?”
William knew if he showed himself, Ronan would attack. Ronan only wanted the chance to protect the woman of his dreams. William ran his hand through his hair. He had betrayed his friend.
