“It seems that our not-so-friendly swamp monster has quite a hunger for our voodoo queen’s husband. I dare say Parlangua would do anything to get our whining lightning bird on its dinner plate.”
Narcisse frowned. “The ladies won’t like that. They want Julien too. They were quite specific, and very adamant.”
“I don’t intend to actually give Parlangua the impundulu. I’m merely going to offer him.”
“That makes you ugly and ignorant. Betray Parlangua, and you’ll find yourself on its dinner plate right alongside the pirate.” He wrinkled his nose. “Though I have my doubts that even Parlangua could stomach eating the likes of you.”
Stubby fingers combed through the tangles of its thick beard, its chin jutted out in defiance. “Worry less about your twisted concept of attractiveness and more about how you’re going to find someone to convincingly portray grieving relatives to a woman who scares the daylights out of half the village.”
“I already have the perfect women in mind.” Narcisse fluttered a hand at the miscreant, brushing aside its derision. “Don’t concern yourself.”
“Some of your precious patronesses, no doubt.”
Narcisse smirked. “No. Whores.”
The tikoloshe snorted. “Whores?”
“Yes. Any woman who can fake attraction and orgasm the way these ladies do should have no problem feigning a bit of grief for our voodoo priestess.”
“All right then,” the tikoloshe admitted grudgingly. “I suppose that could work.” He sniffed, somehow managing to look down his nose at Narcisse despite his small stature. “See that they do it today. Don’t let the queen snuggle any further into the lightning bird’s nest, or even her sense of duty may become compromised.”
Narcisse opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get any words out, the tikoloshe scooped up its pebble and popped it into its mouth. Instantly the creature vanished, only the rush of grass giving away its retreat. Narcisse rubbed his arms as if he could somehow rid himself of the oily touch of the tikoloshe’s presence.
“Miserable minion.”
Chapter Fifteen
Dominique lay in bed, her chin propped up on her hand as she studied her husband. Morning sunlight bathed Julien’s face, casting the small line between his brows in sharp contrast. The line had carved itself into his brow in the midst of his pain the night before and had never quite disappeared, even in sleep. Her hand danced in the air, wanting to smooth that line away, but not wanting to wake him.
Her raised hand cast a shadow over his face, a band of darkness passing over his features like an eclipse. Brown eyes flew open, his fingers closing around her wrist before she’d even registered he was awake. Adrenaline singed her veins, the world tilting as Julien jerked her closer, twisted his body so she was underneath him. Bed-warmed clothes tangled around her waist, making something flutter low in her stomach.
“Dominique?” Blink. A slow smile spread over sinfully supple lips. “Good morning.”
His voice was a seductive purr, rumbling up from deep in his chest. Allowing herself a small return smile, Dominique waited to speak until the butterflies settled. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Invigorated.” Julien shifted his weight, settling more firmly on top of her. He released her wrists in favor of sliding one arm under her body, arching her against him as he caressed her jaw with his other hand.
“Are you still in pain?” The words came out breathier than Dominique would have liked, but her tone was even. She struggled not to clear her throat, composing her face into calm concern.
“The only pain I feel is that of being denied a proper wedding night with my beautiful wife.” Julien ducked his head, pressing a heated kiss to the pulse in her throat. The kiss lingered, velvety lips sliding against the tender skin before drawing a hot line with his tongue.
Pleasure curled in Dominique’s belly and she squirmed underneath the weight of Julien’s body. The friction of their clothing against her suddenly sensitive skin felt good. Too good.
“Julien…” She pressed feebly against his shoulders.
Tension seized his body as if in an instant he’d been petrified into solid stone. The pulse in his throat fluttered like a living thing and sweat glistened at his temples. Alarm tightened Dominique’s spine. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but closed it when his haunted eyes hovered over her hand on his chest.
The gesture mirrored the moment she’d thrust her power into him. The moment that had devastated him so completely. Slowly, she moved her hand to his jaw, cradled it as she tilted his face so she could gaze into his eyes.
“I can help with the pain, if you tell me about it. Do you know of any other of your kind that has gone through a separation like that?”
“Chere, you insist on ruining the mood.” Julien shook his head, but there was still tightness around his eyes, a strain in his voice.
The warm feelings she’d been enjoying so much all day faltered at the forced playfulness in his tone. She studied Julien’s face, searching for some sign of the vulnerability she’d seen last night, the glimpse of a real person behind that roguish grin. “Julien, talk to me. I’m worried about you. Have you ever known an impundulu to go through the breaking of that bond?”
A tiny burst of silver sparked in his pupil like a lone star in a black sky. He pulled his arm from under her, jostling her hard enough to clack her teeth together, and rolled over onto his back.
“No. No, I have never heard of one of my kind breaking such a bond. To even suggest it to them would be to invite ridicule and incredulousness. None of my brethren could fathom not being blissfully content to be enslaved by a magic user, they could not imagine a more wonderful fate than being bonded to a witch for all eternity.”
His jaw tightened. “Only the magic user could break the bond anyway, and I would imagine there are very few who would be willing to do so even if it was what the impundulu wanted. The only way for one of my kind to forcefully free themselves would be to kill the magic user.” He curled his lip in a half-sneer. “So glad that wasn’t necessary.”
Pain lanced Dominique’s heart and she quickly wiped the emotion from her face. This was not the man she’d crawled into bed with last night, the one who had bared his soul to her. This was the pirate she had cursed, the one who had run rather than facing her. The one who’d framed the ship hanging across from the bed she’d laid in, like a tangible vehicle to escape his destiny. Otherwise, the room’s walls were mostly bare. Like nothing else mattered.
Nothing of the man she’d held last night remained but the crumpled sheets swaddling her, and the rag and water bowl she’d used to cool his feverish brow. She shoved back the covers and climbed out of the bed, not caring that her jerky movements made her look like a marionette with its strings tangled. She stalked across the room and snatched her head scarf from the chair where she’d draped it last night before bed.
“Chere, where are you going?”
“You mean where are we going. I have a lot to do in the village today, and it would be suspicious if my new husband didn’t accompany me so that everyone could wish us well. Get dressed and let’s go.”
She kept her back to him and glared down at her clothes. She hadn’t taken the time to go home to get a different dress. She’d been too worried, too concerned.
“Hurry up, pirate, I don’t have all day.”
“Careful how you talk to me, Dominique.”
Julien’s tone dropped two octaves and the shifting of the bed told Dominique he’d stood. She kept her back to him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of making her nervous. It was time he learned who he was dealing with.
I’ll turn his beard pink this time.
“I told you I will not be a servant,” he growled. “I will not be spoken to as one either.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Dominique spun on her heel, fixing Julien with a gaze that had sent lords scurrying back to their studies. “I thought putting up a front of a happily married
couple to my people was part of our arrangement. Or are you reneging on our deal? Was your lamenting about your business and your poor men just a ruse to get your ring on my finger?” She snorted. “Well, a ring, that is. A sham like everything else about you.”
A red flush flooded Julien’s face, irises lost to molten obsidian. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening. Dominique let his temper build, let him tumble closer to the edge. She waited until words started to form on his lips before she interrupted him.
“Nevermind, I should have known you would be a late riser. I need to go home and get changed. I’ll have my things brought here later today so we can maintain this charade as convincingly as possible.”
She swept out of the door, scarcely resisting the urge to bolt down the hallway just to flee his home, run from everything that reminded her of him, of how she had been fooled—again.
Servants bowed and offered congratulations and she accepted their well wishes with as much graciousness as she could muster. The smile she wrenched her mouth into for their benefit hurt her face and for the first time in years, Dominique took a carriage to her home instead of walking.
The driver waved off payment, as expected, and Dominique bestowed a blessing on him before exiting the carriage. The sight of her home helped ease the knot of tension sitting in her chest and when she was certain the carriage was out of sight, she hastened up the walk to her cottage.
“Fresh from the pirate’s bed, I see?”
Dominique stiffened at the hoarse voice that came from directly behind her. Slowly, she turned, fighting to keep her breathing level as she found herself eye to eye with Parlangua, sickly chartreuse eyes boring into hers. The monster stood less than three feet away, thick hide still dripping pungent swamp water and mud—a sign that it had been lying on the very bottom of the swamp. No doubt hiding from Dominique. Waiting.
“Are we enemies now?” Dominique’s brow knitted, her question somewhere between a sad observation and a heartfelt plea.
“Should we be?”
“You tell me.” She squared her shoulders, but didn’t reach into the satchel at her side. There was no need to escalate things if she didn’t have to. “You tried to eat a child.”
“Your husband did considerable damage. I will not apologize for trying to survive.”
“A child?” There was something of a child in her voice, some plea for Parlangua to reassure her, to tell her it would never willingly hurt a child, that the events of the previous day were a mistake, something done in a panic.
“I am what I am. It is all anyone can ever say.” The reptilian beast dipped its head. “I am sorry for the injuries I caused you. You were not my intended target.”
A weight dropped in her gut like dread, and she stiffened. “Please excuse me. I cannot have this conversation with you now.”
“He has disappointed you again, then.” Parlangua snorted, a rough wet sound. “He has always been your weak spot.”
A weed brushed Dominique’s ankle, taunting her with a sudden itch. She ground the offending plant into the ground with the heel of her boot, filling the air with the scent of crushed greenery. “He is no longer my weak spot.”
“No, now he is your husband. But you are not his first wife.”
Stomach rolling at the glimpses she got of the monster’s bloodstained tongue as it spoke, Dominique focused on its eyes. “I know that. He had three others.” She tried to sound bored, as though Julien’s marital history was of no more interest to her than the thickness of moss on the trees. “If that’s what you came to tell me, then—”
“Such a hurry to end this conversation.” Parlangua licked its teeth. “It is as if you fear what I am going to tell you.”
“Not at all.” She tucked stray curls into her scarf and smoothed it into place. “I simply have plans that need seeing to, so I don’t have time to waste on unnecessary conversation.”
“I am here to warn you that your life is in danger.” Parlangua’s tail flicked from side to side, thick scales rough on the tender green grass combing a swath clean of sticks and stones. “Your husband will be the death of you.”
Parlangua was many things, but never had she known it to exaggerate. If anything, the beast had always remained infuriatingly calm, speaking of even the most macabre events with the same voice one would use to discuss the weather. Even on the few occasions Dominique had seen it feed—only ever on animals—the creature had been efficient and ruthless, its pursuits absent of sadistic pleasure. Manipulation was understood, but unpracticed to the creature.
“What do you know about him?”
Parlangua bared its teeth again. “He is a murderer. Three wives he had, three wives he killed. Buried them on his own land no less.”
Narcisse’s words drifted back to Dominique. “Three women… And he killed them all. The proof lies in a mausoleum nestled in the woods on his property. They lie there still covered in their own blood. He didn’t even give them an honorable burial. So much blood…” Her mind paged back to trying to confront Julien about the entire matter, but he’d…gotten angry, hadn’t he? Hadn’t given her any answers at all, hadn’t deigned to provide any information whatsoever on his previous marriage. In fact, he had reversed the conversation immediately, demanded information from her.
Then they’d fought… She’d bonded with him…And then, she remembered something very important. Julien holding his dagger, the wicked tip aimed at her heart as he pleaded with her to do as he asked, as he begged not to have to do the worst.
His voice rose in her mind like fresh words whispered in her ear. “The only way for one of my kind to forcefully free themselves would be to kill the magic user.”
Nausea rose inside her like a greasy tide. She cleared her throat, ignoring the sweat chilling her forehead. “What do you know of his marriage?”
Parlangua lifted its snout. “Ah, you see it now then. You understand.”
“Do you know the nature of his previous marriage or not?” she snapped. Her pulse was throbbing painfully in her throat and it was getting harder to swallow past a sudden lump. Instead of fighting it, she let the anger show in her eyes, let it coax her power to skin-tingling life. “Tell me.”
“No.” Parlangua’s eyes glistened, a sickly sheen over the greenish-yellow orbs. “You’re the one who claims to be a voodoo queen, you’re the one who claims to serve your people, to put them before yourself. You know there is only one way to know for certain what happened to those women—only one way for them to find peace in death. If your husband has truly diverted you from your righteous path, then there is nothing I can do to save you.”
A shiver ran down Dominique’s spine despite her efforts to suppress it. “You… You are speaking of zombies.”
Parlangua nodded, an awkward gesture for its massive head. “Yes. Your mother performed such a ritual twice. She was a woman who knew where her priorities lay. Of course, she was married to your father, a strong, honorable man. Not a self-serving pirate too full of his own importance to recognize that his refusal to accept what he is only weakens him.”
“You don’t know him.” Dominique shoved her hand into her satchel, petting the objects there as if their familiarity could somehow comfort her.
Parlangua’s nostrils flared. “I know that he fights the very idea of bonding. Tell me, Dominique, you haven’t been so foolish as to fall in love with him, have you?”
“Go back to the swamp, Parlangua.” Dominique unlocked the protection wards on her home. “Your counsel is not needed here—or wanted.”
“As you will. But remember this—when you look back at your life and wonder how you shamed yourself—again—remember that it was for the same man and for the same reason. He fears losing himself, Dominique, fears what letting another person too close will do to him. A man like that will never make a good husband, a good partner. He will always leave you.”
“I will not shame myself. I truly do hold my people’s best interests in my heart, above my own. Nothing I
have done with Julien has put their welfare in jeopardy.”
“So he has not forbidden you from going near the grave of his wives?”
Dominique‘s hand tightened around the doorknob. “If you think I would allow him to prevent me from doing what must be done for the good of my people, then you do not know me at all.”
“So glad to hear it.” Parlangua looked at something over Dominique’s shoulder. “And I’m certain they will be relieved to hear that as well.”
Dominique followed Parlangua’s gaze, startled to find two sobbing women stumbling through the marshy area. They were dressed in black rags, with veils hiding their faces. The garb of mourning. Something about the way the creature looked at them sickened her stomach.
“Who are they?”
“Former in-laws of your husband.” Parlangua snorted. “I hope you have your mother’s notes…”
Chapter Sixteen
Julien gripped the edge of the balcony as he strained to see into the distance, searching for some sign of his wife’s return. The sun was starting to set, shadows stretching like fingers of fog over the land. Flickers of torches lit up the dark tree line surrounding the swamp as the people prepared for the second night of the Midsummer Celebration.
She stayed away all day. All. Day. What the blazes is she doing?
“Probably sulking.” He drummed his fingers on the balcony railing. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Julien pressed his fingertips to the aching flesh over his heart. For a second, his hand felt like it would sink right through, pierce flimsy skin and disappear into the black hole trying to swallow him from the inside out. That hole had been a part of him for as long as he could remember, but it had never felt as empty as it did now.
“No. Think about something else.” He pivoted on his heel and paced back into his bedroom. The scent of dust still clung to the air, a reminder of how long he’d allowed the house to remain empty while he was at sea. It was a miracle the place hadn’t been looted or repossessed as abandoned property. Whatever the reason, he was grateful. He had no idea what he would have done with the bodies if he hadn’t had the land to hide them. He snorted, batting half-heartedly at a curtain, sending another burst of particles into the air.
Blue Voodoo: A Romantic Retelling of Bluebeard (The Hidden Kingdom Series Book 2) Page 15
