Before his brain could tell his body Étienne was goading him, Leon had jumped from the chair with a snarl, and was heading for his brother, who promptly fled, shutting the door behind him. Leon thought of chasing him down, but by that time, his control had returned. Inhaling deeply, he made his way from the study, but instead of following Étienne’s retreating scent, he walked back to his chambers. What little time he had left with his mate, he wanted to spend with her.
***
He knew the moment she stepped in front of his door.
Armand had just finished reading a missive from one of his contacts in Pennsylvania, alerting him that slave-catchers, essentially unscrupulous criminals who were paid to drag runaways across state lines, had been swarming his area. Even those who’d found sanctuary in free states could be beaten and taken back to their owners. He’d encountered two slave catchers in his lifetime. Both were now dead. Armand felt little sympathy for men who took pleasure in beating, raping, and degrading others for the sake of “work”.
Still, if slave-catchers were in Pennsylvania, they were looking for slaves. He couldn’t risk taking his wards through that area as well. The men who auditioned for the job were suspicious by nature, and a large group of slaves traveling north, regardless of company and reason, would be noticed. His other option was bypassing all of the states and taking them from Virginia directly to Canada, by sea. He’d done that before, with a smaller group of slaves, but stowing twelve slaves aboard a ship that docked in various states prior to reaching Canada was tricky. He had contacts with a few captains who could be bought, but he disliked relying on men who did not support his cause.
The knock at the door brought his attention back to Julia. He called for her to enter, and she came in with a little smile. She’d been doing that more and more of late. Smiling. Her hair was pulled into a slack, careless bun she seemed to like, and she wore another of the gowns he’d given her. This one was a gray piece a few shades lighter than the color of her eyes.
“You finish wit’ your dinner, Massa?” she asked softly, walking into the room until she stood directly before him.
Armand looked to the tray next to him and nodded.
She moved to his side, and leaned down to pick it up. At that moment, Armand turned his head, bringing them the closet they’d been since she’d tried to use her body to bargain with him. Her eyes widened in fear, but her pupils dilated in—his nostrils flared—need. Instantly, blood rushed to his groin as he lowered his gaze to her lips.
Julia licked them, and he bit back a groan, before returning his gaze to hers. Her breathing had grown shallow and quick, but she hadn’t retreated, run from his office, as he expected. As he both wanted and feared. She was looking directly at him, anticipation and need holding her in place.
“Julia,” he began hoarsely.
Her lashes fell against her cheek as she looked to his lips before slowly lifting her gaze to his again.
Armand felt his control snap. Like a brittle twig under a well-made boot, it broke. His lips were on hers in the next instant even as he told himself to be gentle, to go slowly. He kissed her slowly, licking and nibbling at her lips until she parted them with a sigh. As he slid his tongue into her mouth, he finally allowed a groan to break free.
She tasted of strong wine, and like it, she made his head light. Her tongue hesitantly pressed against him, proving her innocence despite what had been done to her.
He pushed his chair back and stood, lips still attached to hers, knowing the position would soon grow uncomfortable for her. As soon as he was standing, she pushed closer, whimpering slightly when her breasts came into contact with his chest. Her nipples were budded under the material, and from the scent rushing his nose, he knew that she was wet for him. Instantly, he felt the urge to rip the dress to shreds, lift her onto the table, spread her thighs apart, and take her. Armand resisted it. He had to go slow. Hell, he should be stopping altogether.
His wolf howled in agitation as he instead traced kisses along her smooth cheek and down her neck. Her hands moved to his shoulders, gripping them as she panted. Her hips surged forward, bringing her into contact with the hardness jutting from beneath his trousers, and she shrieked. As quickly as her arousal came, it went. Fear overrode it. She jumped back from him and he released her, watching for her next move.
She wanted to flee. He could read it in her eyes, her body language. Instead, she looked at him and said hoarsely, “I take your tray now, Massa.”
Armand nodded stiffly, and she quickly reached for the tray. Before she could run from him as she wanted, he caught her arm in a gentle grip. Pure terror radiated from her at the action, but he kept his hold and said solemnly, “I will never hurt you. You have nothing to fear from me. Ever.”
With that he released her, and she quickly widened the distance between them. In a matter of seconds, she’d left the room. Armand watched the door for long moments before moving over to a window. Dusk had fallen, and it was dark out.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. She was human. She’d been ill-treated in the worst possible ways. She was terrified of him.
He ran a hand over his face.
But she’d also tasted of strawberries, one of his favorite fruits. She kissed to seduce and entrance without even knowing it. She wanted him, and he wanted her. It would happen again if something did not change, and Luna help them both if it did.
Chapter Sixteen
As the horse-drawn wagon made its way along the dark dirt road, Penny closed her eyes and sighed. Shackles were attached to both her hands and feet, and though they were not tight, and could be easily broken, she wanted them off. She wanted to break them, leave the wagon, and go back to Leon, but she wouldn’t. She understood the danger too well. And although Leon had not voiced it, she’d been in his mind enough to know that he feared for any child they might have created.
She drew her knees closer to her body as a chill ran down her body. It was not cold, simply cool, so she decided it must be a reaction to leaving Leon.
Are you well?
The sound of his voice in her mind relaxed her slightly, and she nodded before realizing Leon couldn’t see her.
Yes.
Where are you?
She scanned the area, seeing that they were approaching the main road that would take them into the midst of the town. By the time they arrived there, the sun should have risen.
As Penny told him the location, the sound of soft weeping touched her ear. She blinked and turned to her side, where a crying Jolie sat. Despite her dislike of the girl, Penny couldn’t help but feel for her as she tried and failed to keep her cries silent. When Jolie had been told that she was leaving the plantation, she hadn’t taken it well. In fact, she’d thrown herself at Leon’s feet and begged to stay.
When Étienne had picked her up and taken her to wagon, she’d begged him as well. Already in the wagon, Penny had caught bits and pieces of what she’d been saying but everything seemed to lead back to Julia. She didn’t want to leave because of Julia. Julia would come for her. How was Julia to know where to find her if she left?
Without thinking, she reached out her hand and gently placed it on Jolie’s shoulder. The younger woman started violently and turned watery eyes on her before she promptly began to cry once more, and this time, the sobs were louder.
“Quiet,” Étienne bit out from his place at the helm of the wagon.
“Please.” Jolie’s words were mere whispers at first, but like her sobs, they, too, grew louder. “Anythin’ you want, I give. Please don’ take me.”
“Shh,” Penny quieted, sensing from Étienne’s agitation that it was imperative they complete this journey in silence. When that did not work, she tightened her grip on Jolie’s shoulder and spoke calmly, but firmly, “Stop crying, Jolie. Maybe we’re being sent to the same place as your sister.”
She hadn’t bothered to speak the slang of the yard, but Jolie didn’t seem to notice. She lifted her reddened face and looked up at her. “You
think so?”
Penny was about to respond when Étienne’s voice, low and firm, stopped her. “Get down, Penny.”
“What?” She jerked as a mosquito bit into her neck. “Ow!”
She reached the side of her neck, intent on swatting the parasitic insect, only to find something else.
As her fingers closed in on it, and her brain tried to figure out what it was, her world shifted. Before she knew what was happening, her cheek was against the wood floor of the cart. Someone was screaming in the background, but the person seemed far away. A male voice overrode the other. Her lids felt heavy so she closed them. Something clicked. Arms pushed under her body and she forced her lids open. Étienne.
His lips moved. What was he saying? Her lids fell again. There was silence.
***
Étienne had barely heard the swish of the traveling dart before it lodged in Penny’s neck. Whatever was in it was strong because seconds later, she’d slumped over, unconscious, but not dead. Her heart still beat steadily, if a bit slowly.
Jolie began screaming, and he entered the makeshift cell and quickly pulled Penny out. As he laid Penny down in a thicket of bushes, he considered leaving Jolie, but couldn’t bring himself to. So he broke her shackles, ignoring the terror in her eyes, and threw her over his shoulder. He quickly rushed back to where he’d hidden Penny, among the tall grasses away from the dirt road, and put Jolie down. Before she could speak, he pressed his hand against her mouth and whispered directly into her ear, “If you so much as breathe heavily, I will kill you myself. Do you understand me?”
A jerky nod followed, and he carefully removed his hand. She only stared at him wide-eyed. Étienne scented the air, pinpointing the men who’d obviously been waiting for them to pass. There were three men, each in different locations. They were obviously after Penny.
His ears picked up on movement. One of the men was heading their way, slowly and silently. Another began closing in from the opposite direction. Hunters.
Étienne lifted Penny over one shoulder and placed Jolie over the other. With two charges, could he outrun the men? He did not know but he would try. Plus, he had the pistol in his pocket he would use, if it came to that. He’d been running for seconds when something slammed him forward. Jolie shrieked as his weight slammed her into the ground. Quickly, Étienne released them and pushed away, landing on his shoulder.
He groaned in torture as fire burned its way across his stomach. Rolling to his back, he felt for the injury he knew was there. A medium-sized hole greeted his fingers, and he cursed. Musket. Dear Gods!
Even as the pain bit into him, he could feel his muscles knitting back together. Determined, he pushed himself up and moved back to Jolie and Penny. Jolie was pressed up against a tree, her eyes wide with fright.
He stopped before her first and muttered one word. “Run.” As if only needing to hear it, Jolie did just that. She took off in the opposite direction. If she kept on the path at that pace, she would reach the plantation in under an hour.
Branches snapped to his left, and he turned, noticing the slight shifting of the tall grass. He crouched low and distanced himself from Penny, not wanting the bright light of the change to alert their attackers of her whereabouts. After his change, he moved from the spot immediately, tracking the one who was closest to him. Within moments, he had the man’s neck in his jaws. The beginning of a scream escaped, and a sharp crack followed.
The second man walked directly into his path, and he suffered more. Étienne caught his gun arm first, crushing the wrist before going for his throat.
With that done, he returned to check on Penny. Still there.
The third was harder to find. His scent was difficult to pinpoint with the smell of blood and death so pungent on the air. As he slowly made his way through the tall stalks of grass, ears alert for movement, nose scenting him out, he sent up a mental call to Leon.
What’s wrong? Even in his head, Leon sounded antsy.
Hunters. It was risky to mentally call his brother as he searched for the third man. With his attention distracted, he opened himself to attack. Still, it was necessary.
Where?
Before the main road. Penny’s hit. Drugged.
Something moved to his left and he turned just in time to see the flash of a recoiling gun. Étienne shifted to his right moments before pain exploded in his side. The pain burned with an intensity unlike any other he’d felt before. Even the previous wound to his stomach had not hurt as much, which meant this bullet was tainted. Silver. It had to be.
His legs gave out under him and he crashed to the dirt. Black winked in and out of his vision.
Hit. Careful. Silver.
The grass next to him shifted and his vision cleared briefly to reveal a grinning older man with a musket aimed directly at his head.
***
To say Patrick Ryder was happy was a gross understatement. When Aisha, the slave girl who’d become his eyes and ears on Arnaud’s plantation after her attempt to bargain with him, had told him of Penny’s disappearance, he’d been both suspicious and angered. The rumor had been that she’d been loaned to Abigail Hodgkins, though the reasons were unclear. He’d followed up, contacting William Hodgkins about his acquisition of a new slave, but the man had informed him that he’d made no recent purchases.
So, Patrick bided his time, knowing something else was afoot. When Aisha had told him of the newly arrived slaver, one of the men who’d taken her brother away, it had only heightened his suspicions. The men he’d contracted to hunt “wild” animals on Arnaud’s plantation afterhours had turned up nothing, as he’d expected. If Aisha was right about the rumors surrounding Penny, then she was the creature he was looking for. And if she was missing, they would find nothing. Still, he’d had them patrol Arnaud’s estate, just in case. Days ago, his tenacity had paid off. Two of the men he’d hired had lost their lives, but that was nothing compared to what he’d accomplished.
There were two shifters. The large, blond wolf currently drugged and spread out in the cage before him, and Penny, if the rumors about her were true. She’d woken numerous times from her sedation but he’d only drugged her again. It would not do to have her launching herself at him on their journey to his Georgia plantation. Arnaud could not accuse him of stealing his property if he could not find her, and by the time the younger man thought to look for him in this location, neither he nor his foundlings were going to be there. Plus, Arnaud should thank him for taking a shifter off his hands.
A smile touched his lips. He’d placed Penny in a room upstairs, securing her arms and legs to the bed by silver bands wrapped in leather. From what he knew of the shifters, that should weaken her should she waken. And if he was wrong, and Penny was simply a rebellious nigger with no voodoo coursing through her, he would still take pleasure in her. He had waited long enough to have her at his mercy, and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.
But first, he needed the creature in the cage to change. Anyone who saw him would simply believe him a large, injured wolf, not a man who could change at will into a beast. When he’d pulled the trigger that neutralized the creature, he’d thought the wolf was Penny. That had been laid to rest when the rest of the hunting party had found an unconscious, but human, Penny feet away. From that, Patrick Ryder had come to his greatest conclusion yet. Shifters did not have to be niggers. He was almost positive the drugged wolf was the slaver. It was male, which eliminated the girl who’d escaped. Still, was it was possible the slaver had run and another male had come to fight for Penny?
Footsteps sounded behind him and he spun to face the regal man who entered the room. A house girl trailed after him, looking uneasy and passing Patrick a sorry stare. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. No doubt the man had simply brushed his way past her. Still, she would have to be punished.
“Have you finally caught one of your creatures, Ryder?” the newcomer asked curiously, a slight degree of mockery in his voice as he moved toward the cage.
&n
bsp; “I didn’t know you were in Georgia, Cronin.”
Maximilian Cronin was a wealthy plantation owner. He had holdings in almost all of the cotton- and sugar-rich states in America, and vast estates in Europe. When he was in America, which was infrequent, he was a highly coveted guest. Over a game of cards, and deep in his cups, Patrick had shared what he’d witnessed years ago. The younger man’s laughter had followed him out.
“Paris isn’t what it used to be. I’m easily bored.” Cronin tapped the cage with his fashionable wooden cane. “So this is your ‘shifter’? He looks no different from a regular wolf.” He circled the cage. “Where did you find him?”
Ignoring the last question completely, Patrick Ryder smirked. “You are young, Maximilian, and haven’t been exposed to things as I have.”
A slight narrowing of hazel eyes greeted his proclamation.
Ryder ignored it. It was true. Cronin was a boy, barely weaned off his mother’s teat, compared to him. It was only money that gave Maximilian Cronin the respect he now wore. Another reason he’d been so adamant about proving the existence of shifters was Cronin. He’d been laughed at by a man who was half his age and barely sporting whiskers. He wanted to see the look of horror on his face when the wolf shifted, wanted to see him reduced to the boy he was when the creature turned those inhuman eyes on him.
“Perhaps,” Cronin conceded with the barest lifting of the lips. “But your wolf, although awake and injured, is still a wolf.” He inclined his head to the cage where the wolf was shaking its large head as if trying to clear it. “If what you are claiming is true, prove it. Make him change.”
***
Étienne shook his head and blinked. He felt sluggish, but the pain was also immobilizing. His throat was dry, as if he hadn’t had liquid for days. He blinked again. The light wasn’t much, but it was brutal on his sensitive eyes. Someone was speaking. Two people. About him. He tilted his head and looked through the bars of the cage that held him, into a familiar face. It took seconds, but his memory returned.
Colorblind (Moonlight) Page 20