Mistress of the Stone

by Maria Zannini

  “And Papa?”

  “Your father too, but only after I get you safely to the Coral. Agreed?”

  Only her eyes said yes. It was enough. Xander let out a breath, bracing his body over hers, suddenly aware how intimate their proximity.

  They had all night, but it would be their only night. Once he got her on board the Coral, he’d never see her again. That was the price he’d pay for seeing her safe.

  Luísa’s face shimmered in the low light of the rising moon, making her look otherworldly and ephemeral. Xander lost his ability to reason whenever he was caught in her smoldering gaze. Any fool would have parted ways knowing such danger. But this was a sea nymph who had stolen his heart. He was long past saving.

  He feathered callused fingertips down her silken neck, hungry to touch more of her. She shuddered when he reached her collarbone and she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

  “Shall I take you, Luísa?” The words hung in the air, dripping with hunger.

  “Isn’t that your plan, pirate-hunter?”

  Obviously, his little nymph had not forgiven him yet.

  Xander grit his teeth. He’d not take her, not if she didn’t want him to. But every inch of his body craved her sweet torture. She mocked his resolve with that soft full mouth, a perpetual pout that begged for kissing.

  He had hoped there was still a part of her that loved him, but perhaps he was wrong. And perhaps it was best not to find out. He pulled away, allowing her to rise if she so wished.

  Instead, she looked up in surprise. “You’re letting me go?”

  “You’re not my prisoner. Though it seems I am yours.”

  “How so?” The dismissive tone returned.

  “Are we back to playing hound and fox?” He wasn’t in the mood for her icy banter, knowing full well how little time they had left.

  Luísa’s chin rose in defiance. “I’m the one taken hostage here. How are you my prisoner?”

  “Bloody hell, woman! What move have I made that wasn’t done for your welfare? What sacrifice is there that I wouldn’t make to see you safe? And I didn’t betray your father. I tried to save him.”

  Hot blood rushed to his face taunting the wolf inside him. Xander turned away, focusing on the torn kneecap of her breeches and the poor scraped flesh underneath it. She had earned that on his behalf, risking her life even when common sense told her to run.

  Luísa stilled for a moment, regret filling her eyes. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. “I know.”

  “You do?” Was she toying with him?

  Luísa nodded her head sheepishly. “Perhaps we’re both prisoners here.”

  She melted into his embrace like honey on a warm day. He clutched her, afraid to let her go, afraid this dream had run its course. He inhaled her scent, tasting it, savoring it, imprinting every bit of her into his mind knowing it would have to last a lifetime.

  “I love you.” He had breathed the words into her hair, more than a thought, but less than a whisper. It was only now he had admitted it to himself and to her. It comforted him more than he expected.

  She stared up at him, eyes glistening with moisture and trepidation. One tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. “Don’t leave me. Not again.”

  Xander hesitated. Nothing would be gained if she learned the truth. He couldn’t return with her, not if he were to keep her safe.

  He kissed the errant tear before it fell. “You have my heart, little pirate. How can I live without that?”

  Luísa shivered in his arms, her eyes wild with expectation as he laid her on the mossy mantel of the jungle floor.

  Xander lowered his head to hers, breathing in her scent, need betraying reason. The very air seemed to vanish, and he grew thick with arousal.

  His fingers slid down her shirt, carelessly flicking open the first button.

  She gasped and slapped his hand. “Xander Daltry, do you mean to take me here in this forest?”

  Two more buttons popped undone. “It’s a lovely forest,” he murmured in her ear.

  Luísa’s cheeks flamed to a crimson blush. “You’re shameless!” Her breasts heaved hard, pushing the thin fabric of her shirt open and revealing those soft mounds of womanly glory.

  He released one breast from her chemise, feasting with a wolf’s appetite on a taut rosy bloom. His hot tongue swirled over her nipple, seducing, arousing, demanding a response. She moaned beneath him, a blissful noise he’d gladly share.

  Luísa’s knee rubbed between his thighs, the errant strokes kindling to his torture. His erection grew at her command, the arousal so keen he could barely breathe. He gasped when her knee reached the top of his rod. “Your servant, madam,” he gasped unable to say more.

  Mischief sparkled in her eyes, and she pushed him to the ground. “You’re welcome, sir.”

  Luísa brushed her fingers against his short beard. “I’d like one more night with you, even if you are the devil. That boat can wait a few minutes longer, can’t it?”

  He brushed his lips against hers in answer to her question.

  Luísa kissed him back, breathless with desire. She wrapped her arms about his neck. “God, forgive me. I’ve never wanted a man more. If I’m going to burn in hell, I want to go with a smile on my lips.”

  “Little minx. You can enthrall me faster than any woman I know.” He melded his mouth to hers, unwilling to accept anything but submittal.

  Luísa surrendered willingly, twining her legs with his. She hurried off his shirt, and when he was bare-chested, she feasted on his nipples, forcing all the blood in his body to his nether regions.

  “Steady there, my little pirate. We mustn’t be so rash.”

  “Then we’ll be quiet,” she said between nibbles.

  “That’s not what I mean.” He held her back, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I should’ve taken greater care before. I’ve no right to plant you with child. I wasn’t very careful the first time.”

  She cupped her mouth. “Dios mío. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Wolves mated for life. But he couldn’t offer her that. Not anymore. All he could do was love her and hope it was enough to last a lifetime.

  “What do we do then, Master Daltry? Do we slake our hunger in other ways or bear the burden of the celibate?”

  He ran his fingers down the curve of her jaw. “I can think of many ways we can please each other without producing a child.”

  Her body sagged with resignation. “All right, Xander. No babies. What do you have in mind?”

  He took his time stripping her to bare skin, then laid their clothes underneath them as a cushion. When he finished, he sat there and grazed his eyes over her naked body.

  For several minutes he said nothing, afraid to shatter this fragile dream.

  She smiled at him gently. “Is this your great plan?”

  “No.” The corners of his mouth tilted upwards. “But let me look at you for now. I want to remember you like this. I want to remember every beautiful swell and curve.”

  “You—you think I’m beautiful?” Luísa stuttered.

  “Very beautiful,” he said, strolling two fingers down to her belly button.

  She blushed, her sweet face betraying her innocence. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

  He laughed softly. “Probably because your father’s crew would have run the poor sod through. It’s a little hard to speak of love when you know you risk a saber in your gullet.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me I’m beautiful.”

  He chuckled. “For vanity’s sake?”

  “No. I just like to hear you say it. Your voice sounds like velvet.”

  “What’s this? A Portuguesa in love with the sound of an English accent?”

  “Yes, well. I suppose you can’t be held accountable for being born English.” She sighed. “I can put up with you being a werewolf, but an Inglés…”

  “Look here, kitten. If you want me to make love
to you, it will have to be with an Englishman and a werewolf. We can’t be separated.”

  Luísa ran her fingers through his long dark hair. “That’s good,” she whispered. “Because I love them both.”

  Her arms reached for him, drawing him to her, erasing all doubt on whether this had been worth it. It had.

  They worshipped one another with their mouths. Kisses so passionate they seared Xander to the bone. How could he give her up? How could he simply walk away from the greatest happiness he’d ever known?

  No babes. He had promised that, and he’d keep his word. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t pleasure her and himself—at least to a point.

  Xander looked down at Luísa, her face flushed with desire, her hands aching to touch him. His hands slid down her belly to the juncture between her legs, parting her gently to test her readiness.

  He nearly spilled his seed when she bucked in his hand, shoving his finger even deeper. She moaned in anguish.

  “Take me, Xander. I want you in me.”

  Her pleading words shattered what little restraint was left and he felt himself grow thick and large. Ragged heat coursed through him rousing the wolf inside. He had to have her, had to possess her if only for the night.

  His arms trapped her in place and he slid his engorged shaft across her legs, teasing and exciting her flesh with wicked intentions. She squirmed beneath him, her breath sharp and fast as she rose up and pressed the cool of her breasts against him.

  Luísa touched him, delicate fingers caressing his face, his chest and the hard muscles of his stomach. With slow determination, she wrapped her hand around his throbbing shaft and guided him to the warm, wet folds between her legs.

  He penetrated her with his fingers first, making sure she was ready, but he had no need to worry. Luísa made it clear that she welcomed him willingly.

  He rubbed the swollen ridge of his shaft against her warm slick skin then pushed, slowly but deliberately, parting her so gently that she didn’t realize the intrusion until he was all the way in.

  Xander rocked against her, long slow strokes that went deeper with each thrust. She arched her back, meeting his strokes with her own. He grasped her by the bum, grinding himself against her until he thought they were one.

  God help him, how could he let her go?

  As if she heard him, she seized his face with both hands and kissed him deeply, her tongue reveling inside his mouth, her breath hot and moist. She cried out, her climax taking her by surprise as he thrust harder, faster so that he could join her.

  But he couldn’t. He had made a promise. He couldn’t plant her with a babe, not if he couldn’t be there to provide for them.

  Xander pulled out, grabbing his rod, now thick with ache and need. He rolled to his side, pumping it several times, spilling his seed onto the ground with a hoarse grunt. He lay there like a boneless mass, breathing heavily, the shudder of climax stealing his strength and restraint.

  Luísa pressed against him, her body still slick and hot. “Are you all right?”

  He remained silent until he could catch his breath, but he wouldn’t look at her. He hadn’t the courage for that.

  “Xander.” She breathed his name more than said it.

  He turned away from her. “It’s getting late, luv. We need to get started.”

  He handed Luísa her clothes and dressed without another word. The less said the better. The thing he dreaded most was nearly at hand.

  “First you make love to me and now you treat me like a stranger. Surely, I mean more to you than that?”

  “Aye, luv. You mean the world to me.”

  “Then why so somber after all we’ve shared?” She reached up and straightened the collar of his shirt.

  He pulled her against his chest and kissed her so fiercely she nearly swooned in his arms.

  She staggered back. “That was some kiss. You’d think it was our last on this earth.”

  “I wanted you to remember it.”

  “I remember all your kisses with equal pleasure, sir.” Her mouth quirked into a radiant smile, but it dissipated as she studied his face. “Dios mío.” She staggered back. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”

  He ignored her question, pushing a low hanging vine out of the way and pointing to a narrow path. “The boat is hidden on the shore, but we need to be underway while the tide is out.”

  Xander strode forward, but Luísa grabbed him by the arm. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He hung his head, refusing to look at her. “I have to stay.”

  “For God’s sake. Why?”

  “Someone needs to keep Saint-Sauveur busy until the Coral reaches open waters.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll not be welcomed aboard your father’s ship. An Englishman. A werewolf. I’m an abomination to their eyes.”

  Her eyes flooded with tears. “You have to come with us.”

  Xander shook his head. “My place is here, Luísa, for as long as my sister is cursed. It was my fault she came to be here.”

  “Your fault? She said no such thing.”

  “The first time I changed, I was only seventeen. Sibyl was twelve. It came upon me so suddenly, I didn’t know what was happening. In my confusion, I killed my mother’s maid.” Daltry paused, his expression, a mix of pain and grief. “I didn’t mean to kill her. I didn’t mean to…” He stared down at Luísa. “My father pulled his matchlock off the mantel and lit it, aiming it straight at my heart. Out of nowhere, Sibyl jumped in front of me, forcing my father to stand down.”

  He exhaled with a shudder then pulled out Sibyl’s abandoned rope belt from a pocket. “Father ordered me from his house that very instant. I’ve never gone back. For weeks, I wandered the streets of Cambridge, hiding whenever I felt the change coming upon me. Somehow Sibyl tracked me down. She brought me food, clothes and coin. When I learned of an island where only werewolves lived I said goodbye to my little sister, knowing she’d be better off without me.” He huffed. “I should have known better. The little wench followed me here. It took her nearly three years to find me. She was but a child, alone and friendless, but an old woman took pity on her. It was she who convinced the captain of the ship to take her aboard.”

  “A sea witch?”

  “Aye. No ship that harbors a sea witch would deny her request. But it took many months before she discovered my whereabouts and many more before they reached these waters. The hag raised her as a daughter and taught her the ways of sorcery. Sibyl was a woman grown by the time she arrived. She never gave up her quest to find me.”

  Luísa put her hands on his. “She said she wanted to take care of you.”

  A sad smile grew on his lips. “Aye. That she did. But that godless bastard, Saint-Sauveur, was full of lust for her and thought to take her as his mate.” His forehead creased into a scowl. “I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.”

  “It’s not your fault, Xander. Sibyl doesn’t blame you. I know she doesn’t.”

  “’Tis enough I blame myself.”

  “I wish I could help you, and her.”

  He shook his head. “I could never get you into that crypt now. The tomb will be guarded day and night. But there will be other blood moons, moons when they might not expect you.”

  Luísa nodded, lifting his hand to her lips. “You know I would come. I want to help her.”

  “Then let me steal you away for now and pray for another chance.”

  They hurried to the edge of the tree line. The beach lay ahead, deserted save for the long shadows of palm trees of a waning moon.

  Xander pointed to a broken down pier. “Below the pylons is the boat. It’s well hidden behind the timbers of the pier.”

  “And Papa?”

  “We get you aboard the Coral first, luv, then I’ll come back for the Captain.”

  She grabbed him by the wrist. “You promise?”

  “I promise, dearest. There’ll be no more lies between us.”

  They took a step forw
ard and a flutter of wings rustled behind them; a flock of sleeping birds had been flushed from their roosts. Xander grabbed Luísa by both shoulders, and they crouched to the ground.

  In the distance she heard the lumbering flap of bellows. Bellows? In the sky? Only one creature made that sound. And the night sky was filled with the flap of wings.

  Xander froze, clutching her so tightly she squirmed in his grip.

  “What is it?” she whispered. “Do you think Shadrach has come back?”

  He stared at the sky, the stars blotted out by black shadows. His mouth curled into an angry sneer and he cursed his luck. “Bloody hell.” He helped her up, shoving her back into the brush. “Listen carefully, luv. No matter what happens or what you hear, you run. Understood? You run as fast and as hard as you can back to Sanctuary.”

  “But Xander—”

  “No time, Luísa.” He pushed her toward the east. “Run!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The sky was littered with gargoyles. Huge, hulking moveable mountains, darkening the stars beneath wings that thrashed in violent upheaval. The guardians of the night were on them at once, their grunting barks reverberating through the jungle forest in search of their prey. Luísa wasn’t even sure if Xander was still with her until she heard him shout.

  “Run under the tree canopy. They can’t maneuver through the bush. They’ll wait until we’re out in the open.”

  The gargoyles hunted with relentless determination, jabbing through the vernal canopy, plucking out great clawfuls of branch and bramble in hopes of flushing out their prey.

  Luísa and Daltry kept to the thick of the jungle. It slowed the gargoyles only a little as their heavy clawed feet pounded the treetops, scaring off sleeping monkeys and roosting birds. They rushed to ground, panicked creatures whose only objective was to outrun Gog and Magog. The end of the world was at hand, and these were the archangels of death.

  Luísa fell to the ground and covered her face as a mob of the frightened monkeys trampled over her. Xander scrambled to her side, swatting at the mass exodus of monkeys and macaws.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Just scared.”

  “I don’t blame you. The gargoyles have no predator and only one mistress.” He helped her up. “We keep running. They cannot enter Sanctuary.”