by ML Guida
“Not for a while. Celeste will search the ground and slaves’ quarters first.”
Dread slammed into his gut. “Chloe and da other slaves—won’t she punish them?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He clenched his fists. “Son of whore. ’Tis my fault.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself. She looks for the tiniest reasons to punish.” Her kind words spoken in a soothing voice did nothing to ease his guilt pulsing through him.
He rubbed his eyebrow. “How long do you think it will take for her to discover we’re both missin’?”
She circled her arm around his waist. “Lean against me. We need to move. I’m afraid we don’t have much time.”
He hesitated, afraid he’d crush her. “You’re hurt.”
“So are you. If we go slow, we can move.”
She snagged her bag and stuffed her rags and blanket inside. She threw the water onto the wall and droplets sprayed. “Hopefully, they’ll just think someone left a pail. Celeste wouldn’t remember if there were a bucket left with the tools.”
Hammers, saws, and picks were discarded on the ground.
Violet grabbed a hammer, put it in her bag, and slipped the bag over her shoulder. “Might come in handy.” She lifted the torch and put her other arm around his waist.
“I don’t need any help.” He put his hand on the rocky wall and hobbled down the dark tunnel. The rocky ground jolted his knee, and he winced. Damn it! Sharp pain repeatedly stabbed his bare feet. Breathing hard, he clamped his jaw tight.
He rubbed his sweaty face on his forearm. Each step robbed him of his breath. Everything hurt––his feet, his legs, his back. To push back the growing agony, he watched the sway of Violet’s hips and wondered what it would be like to glide his hand up her creamy thigh. He scowled at the turn of his thoughts. Slaves had lost more than their heads for even admiring a white woman, and he was doing more than admiring.
He stumbled and fell.
She rushed over to him. “Your stiff pride is going to delay us. Are you so ready to be taken back to the Sorcière de Mer?”
He glared. “Aye, you’re a stubborn wench.”
She helped him to his feet. Despite his reluctance, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. He tried to bear most of the weight, but each time they took a step, pain throbbed in his back. He gasped for breath. Her scent of vanilla teased him. It was warm and comforting, blocking out his agony.
As they moved down the tunnel, he realized how different she was to William’s Mariah and the Cap’n’s Hannah. Both Mariah and Hannah had lived privileged lives—Mariah had been spoiled by her grandparents, and Hannah had been a wealthy captain’s daughter. But not his Violet. She’d had to work to survive. He stopped. When had she become his Violet?
She looked up. “Is something wrong? Do you need to rest?”
He liked hearing the worry in her voice. “No, I’m fine.”
He admired her strong muscles. Her hands weren’t soft and gentle like Hannah’s and Mariah’s, but calloused and cracked like his own. She was used to hard labor. Her strength impressed him. He’d never wanted a pampered woman. They were too much work, too selfish. He never thought they’d understand what he’d been through, but Violet, she was different. She’d experience the same pain, the same fear, the same humiliation.
Sundown was only a few hours away, and the bloodlust would be upon him. He had to get away from her or he’d attack his pretty little nurse. “Should have woken me.”
“This tunnel breaks off in three different directions. One ends at the sea, one ends—”
“We’ll go to da sea.”
She lifted her slender eyebrow. “Don’t you want to know where the two other end?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I need to get back to my ship.”
Eagerness flashed in her eyes. “How do you know your ship will be there? They could be out to sea by now.”
“Because I know da cap’n.”
“Then you’ll leave.” Sadness ladened her low voice.
“Aye, but I’ll be back—with reinforcements. I want to pay a visit to da Maîtresse.” He could hardly wait to see Celeste’s face when William burned her precious plantation to the ground. Before she lost everything, he’d make sure she was alive.
She bit her lower lip. “And do what?”
“Burn dis hell hole to da ground.”
“But what about—”
“Da Soaring Phoenix is a frigate. We’ll take da people to an island where they can live in peace and without persecution.”
“How do you know your captain will do this?”
He laughed. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, poppet.”
“Celeste has powerful friends and—”
Dampness filled the air, and he shivered. Their shadows danced on the wall. Gnarled tree roots and spider webs hung from the ceilings. He motioned with his hand. “Which way?”
“Do you need to rest?”
He stiffened. His back was killing him, but he’d crawl if he had to. “No. Do you?”
“Maybe for a minute.” Violet put the torch in an empty iron sconce. She leaned against the wall. Closing her eyes, she slid down onto the ground. “I guess I do need to rest.”
Her face was pale and her breath labored. How could he be so selfish? If he hadn’t been so beaten, he’d lift her into his arms.
He sat next to her. Her chest slowly rose. The poor lass. “I told you I was too heavy,” he mumbled under his breath. He fully expected her to argue, but she was quiet. She was asleep.
She slowly fell toward him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and cushioned her against his frame. She fit snuggly next to him. It had been so long since he’d held a woman so close without being pawed. Whores would be all over him, smelling of cheap perfume. He caressed her arm and relaxed. This was comfortable, very comfortable.
The flames flickered and cast shadows on the wall. He couldn’t see what was down the long tunnel. He strained to hear if anyone followed them. But all he could hear was Violet’s slow breathing. He could get used to this.
Violet woke suddenly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to doze.”
“You needed to rest.” He smiled. “I’m heavier than you thought.”
“We should get going.”
“So soon? I like dis.”
Her cheeks turned as red as her hair. “Oh.”
Ignoring the agony in his back, he pulled on his strength and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. It slid neatly into his palm.
“Thank you.” She fixed her hair.
“Don’t. I like it dis way.”
“I’m a mess.”
“No, you’re beautiful. Strong.”
His heart thundering faster and faster, he tilted his head to capture her lips. What was he doing? They were from two different worlds, forbidden worlds. He waited for her to pull away in horror.
But she surprised him and parted her lips. He slanted his mouth over hers, more forcefully then he intended. He half expected her to slap him, but she held onto his arms. He ran his tongue across the velvety smoothness. She muffled a soft cry, and he dipped his tongue deeper. He wanted to possess her, to brand her.
This wasn’t the time or place, but he didn’t care. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman like he did Violet. She leaned her body against his. He carefully wrapped his arm around her waist, hoping not to hurt her, letting her know how her touch, the scent of her hair and skin, sent desire pulsing through him.
Yet none of those things drove him to the edge of ravishing her as the honey warmth of her mouth did. He had not anticipated anything half as arousing or seductive as the sound of her tiny, strangled moans, each time he swirled his tongue. He had not expected himself to nearly explode like an inexperience virgin as he kissed her smooth and silky neck. He imagined other more intimate female places, hot and wet, begging to be worshiped. Were her feminine curls as red as her hair?
Saint’s blood, what was wrong with him? His heart beat faster and faster as raw desire ruled him. He’d never been so tempted to break the cap’n’s law and take a woman. But the way Violet returned his kiss and clung to him—would it be against her will?
He moved his hand down her back and held her tight.
She stiffened and arched her back, crying out in pain.
Damn he was a selfish bastard! He immediately released her. “I’m sorry.” He tried to make his hard voice sound normal and hide the passion brewing inside him.
Her face had turned gray. “It will pass.”
He winced at her rumpled hair.
She panted and swayed.
“Come here, tempting flower.” He clasped her hand and pulled her toward him. “Let me help you.”
He took the torch and held Violet close, careful not to give into his lust and hurt her again. Blood pumped through him, desire drumming between his temples. Devil’s blood, this was killing him. They made their way down the long tunnel. The air turned mustier, damper. Were they getting closer to the ocean?
A rat darted out in front of him. He hissed. The torch shook erratically. His heart skipped two beats, and he curled his toes.
Violet looked up, her lips curled into a teasing smile. “Afraid of rats?”
Once when he’d disobeyed Jacques D’Aubigne, the bastard had staked him to the ground and doused him with goat’s blood. Rats had crawled all over him and bit him. He was damn lucky he’d hadn’t caught a disease or lost an eye. “I don’t like rats. Why? You do?”
She rested her head against his chest. “I’d prefer the rats than some of the company I’ve endured while living at the Sorcière de Mer.”
“I bet.” Trying to ignore the weariness beating down him, he asked, “How long have you been here?”
“Two years. Two years too long.” She sighed. “You’re not the only one who has spent time down here.”
Amadi’s gut clenched. He stared down at her head. What had Celeste done to the sweet rose? The horrors in the dungeon had been legendary. “I’m sorry.”
“You keep apologizing.” She stopped. “You don’t look like you’re used to apologizing.”
“No, I am not. Being a slave strips away a man’s dignity.” Anger surged through him. The horrors of men tortured, families torn apart, screams of women and children poured into his mind, images he wanted to bury. Bitterness burned in his heart. “No man deserves to be treated like anything less dan a man.”
Chapter 10
Amadi held Violet close as they walked down the damp tunnel. His throat was parched, and he licked his lips. Tonight was the full moon and sunset wasn’t far away. Soon, he’d be hungry, hungry for blood. “Are we almost there?”
Violet shook her head. “No. ’Tis another hour.”
Not good. Not good at all. He forced himself to move, but each step was becoming harder and harder. His strength was leaving him—his legs dragged, his arms hung loose, his head drooped—and worse, he could feel the sun setting. Even in the tunnel hidden from the sun, the blood lust consumed him. His incisors lengthened, his throat turned to dust and he couldn’t muster any spit in his mouth. His gut shriveled and grumbled.
He winced. “How…much…further?”
She cast him a glassy stare and stepped away. “We have at least another two miles to go. I think we need to move faster. I feel better now.”
Coldness flooded his side where her warm body had nestled close. He wanted to pull her gently back, but he didn’t trust himself.
She clasped his hand and squeezed. “We’re not making very good time. We’ve got to quicken our pace.”
His shoulders slumped. “’Tis sundown. Violet, you must flee.” His strained voice could barely get the words out.
“What? You’re not—” The torch brightened her pale skin, but instead of her teasing smile and bright, brown eyes, a look of horror plastered across her face. “Your eyes—”
Her voice trailed off into a dead whisper. She yanked her hand out of his and put it to her throat.
He didn’t have time to be gentle with her. She was in danger, danger from him. “I’m a vampire.” He said “vampire” too loud and immediately regretted it.
She stepped back and covered her mouth. Her eyes darted back in forth with fright. “Are you going to kill me?” She put her hand on her throat. “Is that why you want me to run?”
He winced. “I’m starving and need blood. But da cap’n taught us how to consume blood without killing our hosts. I don’t kill when I feed.”
’Twas partly true. He hadn’t killed anyone for a long time. But that was because there was usually more than one host to feed on. The cap’n would dock in a heavily populated port since the curse was never satisfied with one feeding. He needed at least three or four hosts to please the hunger. But there was only Violet.
She edged further away, leaving him in the dark. “That’s not true…there are rumors of the Fiery Damsel.”
“They’re fiends. Our sworn enemy. Push away your fear and look at me, Violet. Am I tellin’ da truth?”
She stopped moving and glanced over her shoulder as if deciding whether to run down the tunnel and abandon him. He held his breath, waiting to see if she’d run or face her fear. She was a strong woman and had survived on a contemptible plantation. He watched her struggle—brows knotting, eyes intense—trying to control her fear. She squared her shoulders and stared. He broke out in a cold sweat as she studied him, wanting her to look into his soul to know he wasn’t a monster.
Her gaze lost the darting edge, and her lips softened. “You’re not lying. You don’t kill your victims. How can this be?”
“We only change into vampires during the full moon. Cap’n taught us to stop feeding before da host’s heart slows.”
She came into the light. Her color had returned, and her cheeks were rosy. “He’s a vampire, too?” Her voice had lost the fearful edge, but her eyes screamed “liar.”
“Aye, he is.” Amadi met her accusatory stare. “He granted me my freedom and treats me as an equal. Something I will never forget.”
“How do you feel about him?”
“I’d die for him.”
“’Tis not very often I see such loyalty.”
“Do you have family?”
“No, both my parents are dead. I’ve no one.”
Her loneliness tugged at his heart strings. “I’m sorry.”
She hugged her body tight. “But the Fiery Damsel—”
“Da cap’n and his crew wanted more power and went back to da demon Zuto’s island to drink from da cursed lake until they no longer had to wait for da full moon to transform.”
Confusion flared in his eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“We came upon an uncharted island. We were dying from thirst, and da tallest man I’d ever seen led us to a crystal lake. Da water was so clear and fresh, sweeter than any water I’d ever had. ’Twas only later we discovered da lake was cursed. It wasn’t a man at all.”
“He was a demon? How come you couldn’t tell?” There was something in her voice, something doubtful, something dreadful.
All she needed was to have a white wig and a black robe and she’d make an excellent solicitor, ready to put him in Newgate. “He didn’t have horns, if dat’s what you mean. He told us dat we’d change into vampires durin’ da full moon. If we wanted to break da curse, we had to bring a captain and his daughter to him. Or be cursed forever.”
“Did you?”
“No. Cap’n fell in love with da woman, and we put up with her father. Before he was a pompous ass, but he’s less of a sniveller now.”
“You don’t like him?”
“He left three men infected with smallpox on an uncharted island and nearly wiping out da Native population without da slightest hint of remorse. He did not consider them to be equals and didn’t care if they died.”
“The same way you were treated as a slave.”
Her soft voice took some of the ange
r out of his sails. He cleared his throat. “And you.”
“True. What happens if you don’t feed?”
He sighed. No use lying. She’d know. “I will not be able to eat or drink until I consume human blood. I’ll become a walkin’ corpse.”
“Without blood, you won’t be able to walk the rest of the way, will you?”
Amadi leaned against the wall. His throat was parched, and he couldn’t swallow. ’Twas like having sand stuffed down his gullet. “No, I won’t. Da hunger is growing stronger, and I’m afraid I’ll be so starved, I’ll be a danger.”
“Despite the cap’n’s teachings?”
“Aye.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Does what hurt?”
She rubbed her neck. “When you bite someone, are they in pain?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because they will find us both if you can’t walk.”
“Violet—”
“I’m the only one here, and you need blood. I don’t want Celeste to find me. I’ve been waiting for a chance to escape, to find someone strong enough to resist her.”
“Is dat what I am to you? A means to escape?” He couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice. He was tired. Damn tired. And so damn thirsty. He could smell the blood pumping through her veins—warm, tantalizing—and fought hard to maintain control.
She put her bag down on the floor and stuck the flickering torch into a nearby hook. “You don’t play fair. If I lie, then you’d know.”
“I wouldn’t—”
When she sauntered up to him and put her hands on his chest and leaned her body against him, he stopped mid-sentence. His heart thundered, and he was one step away from satisfying the hunger pulsing through him. And the lust, Lord, the lust was killing him.
“You’re more than an escape, Amadi. Much more.”
Her husky voice melted his hard shell. He was actually trembling. Amadi—the most feared member of the Soaring Phoenix—was intimidated by this slip of a girl. “Violet, I can’t hold on much longer.”
“You promise you won’t hurt me?”