If I ever imagined what his lips would feel like, I am surprised. They are soft and plush, and meld with my own in a pleasurable pressure that mounts as he plays with my lips. His shadow of beard tickles my skin. His arm is tense and curled around me, holding me as if I am something obscenely precious that he does not want to lose. His body is flush against mine and I am dumbstruck with the ardency of his embrace. I am drenched in sheer panic. I feel my stomach pulse with riotous flutters, and my mind goes blank. My heart seems to pinch me with each beat, and something inside me feels that this is good. I am struck by some lustful magic he’s woven. It must be so. Am I kissing him back?
I tear myself away from him and my lips tingle with the harshness of our kiss. He holds me at arm's length, and I stumble backward, finding my sanity once again.
“I want to go back,” I utter. “Take me back, please.”
“I want you to be mine,” he says raggedly into my ear, exposing his deepest want.
“No.” It is the simplest thing I can say, yet I have to focus in upon the word, force it out of my mouth.
I stare over his shoulder as he buries himself in my neck. He breathes hard against me and I will myself not to slip into delusion again.
“I know that you want me too,” he adds.
“I don’t,” I deny stiffly.
My body is rigid, crawling to be free of his closeness. He will not undo me.
He draws his hands down my arms in sweet caresses, and chuckles, “Shall we prove that with another kiss?”
“What did you do with Claire? Captain Alphonse? What are you going to do with the prisoners you stole? Tell me. Are you brave enough to tell me the truth?”
“I have nothing to hide from you,” he is passionate. “Mam’selle Claire is off in the forest with your Captain. My brother. The prisoners will be sacrificed to the Bone Woman, and they’ll keep me and my men far from death anytime soon.”
I pale when he mentions his duty to the Bone Woman. I feel sickness pool up in my gut and I hold a hand over my mouth. I do not know what to say.
“You need to find them. Don’t let Claire die,” I say. It is the only thing that surfaces as intelligible in my mind.
“I can make no promises on that account,” he chuckles dryly. “I have men out looking for them, but there’s only so much Island to search.”
“I will never want you in the way you want me,” I whisper.
He whistles low as if I have struck him with pain, “Let me tell you why you should accept my offer.”
I grow stiff. He draws himself back so that we can see one another, face to face as any man and woman making a direct agreement might.
“I can give you a different life,” he says simply. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”
“A life full of lawlessness? Is that the life you are offering?” I quip in sarcasm.
“You won’t ever have to worry for a thing. You can be your own Mistress. You will have free reign over your own life. I won’t hold you down and I will never expect anything of you. I have homes in France, Italy, Africa…I can set you up anywhere. Wherever you like. I will see it done. I promised…,” he swallows, lowering his eyes, and begins again. “I promise that you’ll have no cares. All I ask is that you be mine, and maybe in time, you will give me children. Just think of it.”
My mouth is slack and my lips part in speechlessness. His words, they dribble into my ears like a delicate honey, coating my insides with warmth I’ve never known. His passion is curiously erotic. I do not know what to think, as everything he has said has appealed to the root of my personal wishes. I have always wanted to live a life out from beneath the heel of a man. I had not ever wanted marriage or motherhood. I had not even wanted love. I hate myself for feeling this, but how can I not? How can I ignore words that may offer me a life outside of the natural course that fate designed for me? No woman could call herself this fortunate.
“I…”
I cannot. This is wrong. There are so many things wrong with this situation, so much hidden. I do not know him. I am a prisoner, and why should it be any different if I agree to play his game? This could ruin whatever future my life could hold. It could pit me against the government as a traitorous pirate in my own right.
“Give you children?” I utter in horror as if I have seen a ghost and his fingers are clamped around my neck, disabling my ability to speak.
“Give it time,” he suggests, and knowing that there is nothing else for us to say, he leads me back to the celebration.
Benjamin
A few days have passed since the last celebration. Claire and Alphonse have been wandering in the jungle for a week. But now, duty calls.
I told my men to fall back. To wait for me at the outer ring that marks the boundary line. I cannot risk losing more men who are loyal to me. Reki and Idalgo watch me with frustrated expressions. Reki’s machete rests on his shoulder, and Idalgo watches me with pinched lips; blatant impatience. My friends. It must be hard to watch their leader enter into the jungle and fear for his life. But I know that she will not kill me. I am too important to her. I give her everything. If I had not returned to this Island so many years back she would be in a disaster state, bones settled to dust in the ground, waiting for a stray soul to stumble past.
I shoulder past giant leaves and duck under the foliage, sweat beading on my brow. The jungle is quiet today. Oddly quiet.
Gia waits in my chambers, and the thought of her thrills me. Awakens those desirous memories that once were real. Her long dark hair, the archaic depth of her eyes. They ream me. Disturb me. She shares only small similarities with Giselle, but that does not matter. I enjoy her fire. I imagine that Giselle would have been more like Gia if she’d had time to experience life. Gia is a refined version, a darker person.
I work my way towards the cave entrance, following a path I have taken far too many times. Enough to know that the familiarity is all too familiar, and these things can never be undone. But this is what it is. I can’t hate myself for the things I have chosen.
Stepping forth I hop down the steps, listening for her. I can hear the rolling ocean, the spray on the rocks, the trill of colorful birds and angry insects. I have only ever seen a storm here five times, and almost always there is sun beating down. I feel anxious on solid ground. It is freeing to be at sea, thinking only of my men and getting them their spoils. There are many acquaintances I’ve been working with who want me at sea as well. A few Dutchmen across the ocean, waiting for my go ahead. They offered me loaded coffers for assisting them safely along the coast of Africa. A few pirates who want to join up and take down the empowered colonies in the Caribbean, to defend what is ours. Some of the great Buccaneers who were once powerful influencers were stripped of their titles and forced to work simple jobs. I’ve gathered many of them and brought them here to serve my purpose. Now, we have to maintain our place. If I lose my position, I lose everything, and if I lose everything, I cannot protect Gia.
Entering the dark cool space of the cavern, I go forth. Her cave is laid out in a way that is comfortable for a person. A large open area upon entrance, and then further down, through a narrow space in the rocks, there is a place that she uses as a chamber. She does not sleep because she’s dead, but she shuts her eyes and rests her mind, thinking about all the people she wants to kill, I am sure.
“My dearest Benjamin,” I hear her groaning, ragged voice come from the black wall ahead. “You have come to visit me.”
As my eyes adjust to the light, I notice that she is crouching against the wall, her black mass of hair like a curtain in front of her face. She begins to glow, her eerie blue light illuminating her skin like the fluorescent plankton you might see floating along in the water when the moon is high.
“I’ve come to tell you our shipment has come in,” I say, standing in the arched entry space.
The smell of her is old, like dust and violets.
“What do you wait for? Bring them to me,” her tone is steady, but benea
th I know that she keeps her maniacal self only just hooded.
“The new moon,” I remind her. “These things I learned from you.”
“These things? My lovely…you seem to enjoy them now, don’t you?” she stands, and I can see her shady silhouette swaying.
She bears the shape of womanly curves today, probably an attempt to lure me. Usually, without the use of her magic, she is sickly thin and haggard. Though her face is beautiful, a neat shape with high cheekbones and large eyes that shine the color of black woodlands. She was altered, infused with the blood of Giselle, or, the Succubus who once was Giselle, at the age of thirty and one.
“You know this is only our accord. I will do as promised if you do as you promised,” I say. I tense as she comes forth.
“You are tired, Benjamin,” she acts as if she is noticing it within me, and it brings her sorrow. “You have done so much for so many, and yet you lack the only thing that you ever wanted.”
Sidra lays a hand on my shoulder, and I feel the familiar electric sensation pulsing down my arm. My muscles contract and I shake her away.
“I did not come here for you to play your games with me,” I peer into her keen, harsh eyes. “Your attempts are pointless.”
She tilts her head, biting her bottom lip and then smiling. “I do not try with you. I see you as my friend. My ally. Can I not worry for you?”
I sigh. Such bold words. Words that disappear into air when she is opposed. We are shrouded in black, her blue glow illuminating my shoddy breeches and coat. I feel an intimacy with her that I relate to her alone. Killing people will do that to you. Bring you close to your confidante, the one who does the killing. We reap similar benefits, and the alliance has been good to us both.
“I’d have you not think of me ever,” I grumble. “I wanted to tell you that, so you calm yourself. Don’t make any intrusions again.”
“What are you hiding, Benjamin?” she cracks a smug smirk. “You’ve not cared before…if I slipped into your room at night in previous years. Then you forced the parameters- these disgusting boundaries. What triggered this change? A special someone, might it be?”
I feel my throat tighten, and swallow.
“I have a duty to uphold. The safety of my men matters to me. I cannot risk you coming in and wreaking havoc on my settlement,” I say, keeping my tone steady.
“You would not notice if an underling disappeared. I find that the hunt…excites,” she whispers, and licks her lips when she says the word “excites.”
“You’ll have to keep your instincts in check. You know what will happen if you do not honor our agreement.”
“You leave me?” she leans forward, saying this in my face, her breath hitting my face. “Benjamin. My pretty one. You know I would not risk it. But I must be honest. Before you…when I traveled to this place…long ago, I delighted in the chase. Luring sailors, giving and taking life. Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be a god?”
I wince, hiding my disgust, “I have not.”
“Yet here you are, one of the most powerful living men. What do you think you are worth to the world now, with all of your gold and currencies? Your fleets of ships? Do you think any woman would resist such power? Any man resist hating you?”
The laugh that thrums in her throat is delicate and raw.
“If I am powerful in any way, no one knows it,” I snort. “I keep a low profile.”
“Why?” she questions. “You should reveal it. Spill the blood of your enemies and drink it like wine, ensnare the earth in your traps and take it. Rewrite what is.”
The sardonic lift of my brows is not only for her, but for the solidifying of my calm with her. Listening to her brings cold, a knife of ice, to my gut. I wonder if she knows that Gia is here. Can she know?
“Those are your dreams, not mine,” I say. “I recognize manipulation when I hear it. I’d only question why you want me to do it? If you have the power of a god, goddess…whatever it is, leave this place. Do what you want so badly to do. Kill off humanity for a new order. I am sure Vauquelin will assist you in this.”
“This island keeps me here. Vauquelin bound me to it, if you do not remember,” she rages about, pacing in a circle about me.
“Vauquelin is off raising sugarcane in Saint Domingue,” I tell her, rather amused. “He’s abandoned you…hasn’t he?”
A question I have long wanted to ask. I have not seen him for five years. We’ve had our interactions in passing. Battles on the squalling ocean. There were a few times I nearly had him, tasted the revenge in my mouth like metal. All for it to be taken from me on different occasions.
“You worry that he will come back for me, don’t you my Benjamin?” she whispers. “You don’t want everything you have to be smashed. You should not worry. We are a team, don’t you know?”
She reaches thin fingers out to grasp my hand, and I allow it, staring at the ground.
“I’d choose you if it came down to it,” she snickers. “My precious handsome one. Vauquelin has never been so good to me. Leaving me for years on end. Shackling me to one point on the earth. How could you ever worry?”
I yank my hand from her, feeling the sensuality in her transferring through to my fingers.
“I do not worry.”
“Yet I see it in you. You worry for something,” she swipes a thin cold finger over my brow. “You are no master of concealing your demons. Your brows are weighted. Your mind is heavy. I can taste your melancholy. It is sweet and tart.”
Sweet and tart. Only she could say it. I think of Gia, the way her body moves as she walks, the grace she holds in her head. The melodic tone of her voice, and the dark presence of her eyes. She is Giselle in so many ways. I wonder how much of life determines who we are, as opposed to our souls. Are we who we are as it is inherent to us, or are we who we are because of the experiences we have lived? My deniers are on our experiences. I wonder if who I was before would have chosen the life I am living today. The man I was sitting beside Giselle’s dead body, listening to the droning sensual voice of Sidra until I was able to escape would not have come back.
My father warned me, and the years ticked down until the time came. The point when I chose to return. But I had a plan. I cannot go back on my decision. I chose this for a reason.
“What do you think of, Master Benjamin?” she asks.
“I think of everything,” I say, and I mean it. A thousand things cross my mind but only one of them matters. Does the rest of my life align with that one thing? Does it really matter? Sometimes I hate that I want her so badly. The ache in my gut, the desire in my limbs.
“You miss her,” Sidra speaks as if she pities me. “Your love. Truly, I think she will come to us soon. I can…sense her. There are traces of her on the wind.”
“What does that mean?” I round. “You think her coming here would be a happy thing for me? Why would I want her here, of all places? This is the last place I’d want her. Here where you could get to her? Where every other selfish fool who learns about immortality and the flaw in humanity could attempt to sacrifice her to you? Fuck that.”
Sidra giggles spiritedly, arms lurching out and fingers bent as she cackles.
“You poor tortured soul. Almost more tortured than I am,” she simpers. “Your entire life and life’s work rests in my hands. I give you your youth. You give me my humanity. And all I will ever want is her soul. Your love that you will not bear to forget. What a fatal misfortune for us both.”
I inhale a frustrated breath, “I have built this empire on the sea by myself. You were never there, out recruiting men, taking ships. You did not give me those things. Even without you, I would have done the things I have done.”
“But would you be alive, my sweet?” she snickers once more. “How many times have men tried to kill you? How many times could you have died, released from its grasp only because of the magic, my magic, flowing through your veins?”
I swing myself down to sit against the wall, placing my hands abou
t my forehead.
“You could be so much more than you are now…if only you could let her go,” she whispers, kneeling beside me, her petal soft lips grazing my ear.
I know that this is true. If I give in to the madness, to the darkness, I could rule it. We could rule it, together.
“You know I won’t,” I say. It is not possible for me. I would never give Gia up. Not now that I have her, dangling like some priceless artifact just out of my reach. I am so close to having her as mine again, to correct her death. Start again.
Sidra leans back on her heels and rests her chin in a hand.
“Benjamin, I am curious. Why have you not asked me why I need her? In all our years, you have run from the truth. The truth of what I am, what I can do, what you are doing when you offer me the destitute and degenerate, what you could have if you only allowed yourself…you have ignored it. Pretended to look the other way while you brought me offerings. But I do not understand why you have not asked me that question.”
I glance up at her. I do not want to know. Knowing would give her a side to the story, and I will not sympathize with her either way. I do not care why she needs her. All I know is that it is wrong.
“The soul of that Succubus created me. Half of me, my darling. She is the killer within me. The death and destruction within me. All darkness, the ability to take souls came from her. Let us just say that she gave me a heart of all things dead. A lovely gift. Another gift, one that Succubus often enjoy most fully, is the inability to remain “whole.” They have to feed every few months or else they begin to decay and rot away into dead beings. Where have you seen that before, hm? With this slow deconstruction of their bodies, their magic dwindles. When they reach that skeletal, corpse-like state, the only cure is to take. To prey upon human men. The first time I inhaled a man’s life force…I realized that I never wanted to be in that state again. I was alive once more, brandished, renewed, high as the clouds. You see, I do not want to have to do this forever. If I take Giselle’s soul, I undo her from the universe. Everything she is or was would be void. That part of me will no longer exist.”
The Bones of Broken Songs: A Historical Mystery Romance (Mortalsong Trilogy Book 2) Page 11