A Pirate's Revenge (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix)

by ML Guida

  “Never,” he growled.

  The beautiful young women refilled the tub with steamy hot water, and Lark yearned to soak, to wash the filth from the Damsel’s brig, to ease the insect bites covering his dry skin. He tore his gaze from the alluring bath and could not help but lust over the women’s curves and shapely legs. He ached to feel those soft hands washing his body. His heart beating wildly, he clamped his jaw tight, not trusting himself to say no to Natasa’s snare.

  The tallest man Lark had ever seen stormed into the hut, carrying a wooden chair and a pair of trousers and a shirt. “Where do you want these?”

  “Next to the tub,” Natasa said.

  The half-naked man flung the chair down and tossed the clothes onto the seat. “Satisfied?” He turned his back to Lark. Bloody welts and bruises marred the man’s flesh. Hot tingles flowed over Lark like rivers of lava and every hair on his body stood up. Power not just strength, emitted from the man.

  “No. Hang the clothes across the back of the chair neatly.”

  “There. Happy?”

  Natasa ran her hand over the man’s arm. “Why must you be so stubborn, Zuto?”

  Zuto?

  “I have more important tasks to do than play these games of yours.”

  Lark did not understand why the powerful demon did as Natasa asked. What hold did she have over him?

  “They’re not games.” She tilted her head. “See? The witch is weakening.”

  Zuto stared at Lark as if it were some kind of test between good and evil. Lark squirmed under the scrutiny. He was slipping, and he knew it.

  “He’s foolish and weak,” Zuto said. “If he gives into these temptations, he will not be much use to us.”

  Lark had failed the test. “I am not weak,” he mumbled. He wasn’t sure why, but he did not want Zuto to think he was a sniveling codfish.

  “Yes, you are,” Zuto countered. “You cannot take your eyes off the bath or these damn clothes. You shame your family.”

  Lark wanted to argue, but what was his defense? He did want the bath and to wear clean clothes. He was a disgrace.

  “Zuto, who’s side are you on?”

  “Mine.”

  She raised her fist.

  Zuto grabbed her wrist. “Do not strike me.”

  She ripped her hand out of his grip. “I’ll…Wait. Where are you going?”

  “I’m done here.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Zuto stopped in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. “What do you want, wench?”

  “I need to know what powers you gave that pet dragon of yours.”

  “He’s not my pet.” Zuto cocked his eyebrow and folded his arms across his broad chest. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I can’t focus on the bitch or your damn pet.”

  “If you can’t contact her, or focus on the dragon, then obviously she’s no longer a virgin and mated with the dragon,” he said, his voice tired and annoyed. “Use your head, Natasa.”

  “Slaves, leave us,” Natasa ordered.

  The servants bowed to her and hurried out of the hut.

  “Let’s see, what should we talk about?” she asked.

  Zuto snorted.

  Natasa picked up the pitcher and poured water into a glass. “The water here is so fresh, cool and clean.” She cast her gaze over Lark, and he shuddered. “Much better than what you’ve been given aboard the Fiery Damsel.” She raised the glass. “Want some?”

  Oui! Dieu, oui! Lark refused to answer.

  “Oh, are we going to be silent again?” She took a sip. “So good.” She licked her lips.

  Lark swallowed, hating himself for wanting the tiniest sip. Zuto was right. He was weak.

  “I see it in your eyes. You want this.” She put the glass down and sauntered over to the tub. She dipped her hand into the water and splashed water onto Lark. Warm droplets streamed down his skin, weaving a line of cleanliness through the dried blood coating Lark’s skin. He sighed, wishing she’d splash him again and again.

  Do. Not. Give. In.

  Natasa laughed and tossed her head back. “You’ll be mine soon.” Her eyes darkened. “I have a question I need answering.” She traced her hand on his damp chest. “Is your sister a virgin?”

  Lark glared. “Why?”

  “Tell me,” she purred. “Is she?”

  “Burn in hell.”

  “By your answer, I don’t think you know. Not that close with your sister, eh?” She chuckled and grabbed the back of his arse and squeezed. “Such a handsome man. At least you used to be.” She cupped his balls. “Soon you’ll be deep inside me.”

  “Never!”

  She patted his arse again and walked away, her hips swaying. He glared at her, dreading she was right. If he turned to the dark side, he would lay with her and become her depraved lover. Mon Dieu! Mariah, help me, before ’tis too late.

  “If the dragon and witch have mated and she was a virgin, then they’ll be coming.”

  “Apparently,” Zuto said, his tone droll.

  She spread her hands wide. “We no longer have the advantage. We need a plan.”

  Zuto tilted his head. “So make one.”

  She pounded her fist into Zuto’s chest.

  He lifted his eyebrow. “Maketabori will not be happy if he doesn’t get Hannah Knight. You’ve failed.”

  “You mean we’ve failed,” she said.

  “’Tis not my fault.” Zuto’s mouth curved, but the smile never reached his eyes.

  “’Tis the crew of the Soaring Phoenix. Their meddlesome interference continues to block my plans. Maketabori can’t possibly blame me.”

  “I hope the master sees it your way.”

  “Ooooo!” She slapped him across the face.

  Zuto laughed.

  “Unless you hand over the bitch and her father,” Natasa said. “You’ll always be my slave. You best remember that—lover.”

  Zuto stopped laughing and glowered. The light dimmed, and the hut shook. Power laced with evil vibrated and sparked across Lark’s flesh.

  Natasa stepped away from Zuto and put her hand on her throat. “Do not try and frighten me.” She stood tall, her back straight, but the tremor in her voice belied her fortitude. She stalked out of the quaking hovel and left Lark with an angry demon.

  Zuto walked around him. “Still trying to defy her?”

  Lark did not answer.

  The demon stopped in front of him. “’Tis useless, you know. She’s evil. You’ll lose.”

  Not wanting to admit the inevitable, Lark moistened his cracked lips. “Why does she care if Mariah is a virgin or not?”

  Zuto cocked his eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

  “Forget it.” He couldn’t even muster the strength to force his weary voice to argue with the inquisitive demon.

  “You and I are the same, witch. Both trapped in hell. Sex magic is powerful.”

  “I know this.”

  “Yes, but did you know when a witch mates with a shape-shifter, their powers grow? But for them to be unstoppable, there needs to be one more ingredient.”

  “What ingredient?”

  “Love. Or at least that’s what the lore says. I, for one, think ’tis nonsense.”

  “Nonsense?”

  “’Tis a fantasy. Love isn’t more powerful than black magic.”

  Lark shook his head. “You are wrong, Zuto. Love is the only thing that matters in this world.”

  “’Tis why you are weak.” Zuto glanced at him and at the door. “You’d better pray to your God ’tis true. Natasa will not stop at anything to reach her goal and please our master.”

  “She wants Capitaine Knight and his daughter.”

  “True. But they are not the only ones she wants.”

  “My sister?” He hesitated to ask, but needed to know. “Pourquoi?”

  Zuto opened the door and stared at Lark. “You’ve called upon your sister with your spell.”

  Lark stiffened.

  “Yes, I fe
lt your magic. A mistake—one you will soon regret. Your sister will be dead soon.”

  “No, she’s more powerful than you think.”

  “Ah, not against a dragon. When she reaches the island, my dragon will fall under my command and kill her.”

  He left, and Lark released a howl. What had he done? He’d called Mariah to this dreaded island only to sign her death decree.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ronan entered Mariah’s cabin. Although invisibility cloaked them, William shielded Mariah with his naked body. Guilt surged through William at the sight of his wounded friend. Neat stitches ran along Ronan’s right cheek. His face was still blotchy and bruised, and his left eye was swollen shut. His vampire powers had not yet healed him.

  Ronan used the tip of his sword to lift Mariah’s gown off the floor. Blood stained the woven blanket where Mariah had lain, evidence of her lost maidenhood. He knelt next to the blanket and dipped his finger into the blood. “My God, Mariah, where are you?” Ronan clutched her gown. “Are you hurt?”

  William sucked in his breath and hung his head. He was a cad. Taking the lass’s innocence to satisfy his own lust.

  “I can hear ye breathin’, O’Brien,” Ronan said. He dropped the gown and rose to his feet, both hands gripping his sword. “What have ye done with the lass? I’ll kill you, dragon, if you hurt her.”

  “Mariah is ours”.

  Drakon hissed in William’s ear. His fists clenched, William growled.

  Ronan whipped his head around. “Show yourself, damn it.”

  “Kill him.”

  William’s heart pounded harder and harder. The dragon’s power threatened to unleash. He struggled to gain control, to stay human, but his flesh tingled, and muscles rippled beneath his skin. He was losing control.

  Mariah clasped his arms, her naked body pressed against his. “No,” she whispered. “Be calm, oui?”

  “Mariah?” Ronan turned around in a circle.

  William fought to keep from changing into the dragon and ripping Ronan apart. He closed his eyes and inhaled, trying to push back his anger, but power surged through him. Drakon demanded blood.

  Mariah rubbed his back, her nails gently drawing on his flesh. She kissed his back, and he groaned, muscles unwound. Lust flowed through his veins, anger forgotten. Drakon relaxed.

  “O’Brien,” Ronan demanded. “Where are ye, ye bastard?”

  William knew if he showed himself, Ronan would attack. Ronan only wanted the chance to protect the woman of his dreams. William ran his hand through his hair. He had betrayed his friend.

  “No, she was never his. She was always our destiny.”

  William ignored Drakon. Ronan deserved better than to have his dreams shattered, but he refused to lose Mariah. Dragon’s essence or not, she was his.

  Mariah’s sweet breath rushed over his back. He had to get her out of the cabin without hurting Ronan. He frowned. What other gifts did Drakon possess? He closed his eyes.

  “Answer, me, O’Brien,” Ronan said. “Is this some kind of dragon black magic? Did ye defile the poor lass?”

  William chewed on his cheek.

  Mariah leaned her head on his back, her curvy body driving him mad.

  Concentrate.

  He inhaled again and ignored Mariah and Ronan. Energy followed through him, and the blue-green scaled dragon appeared, his eyes burning gold, black smoke swirling out of his nostrils.

  “Kill him,” Drakon demanded.

  “No.”

  “He wants what’s ours.”

  “He’s my friend, and I will not kill him.”

  “You’ll be sorry.”

  “You must have other powers rather than invisibility. Or do you only possess this one ability?”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Drakon snarled.

  “I’ll skin your worthless hide, O’Brien,” Ronan said.

  Drakon lifted his tail, and it crashed onto the ground. “If you don’t want me to kill your rude friend, do as I say.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Exhale.”

  “Why?”

  “Either exhale, or I’ll kill him.”

  Not wanting Ronan to be ripped to pieces, William did as Drakon bade. He inhaled deeply and exhaled. Power tingled inside his chest.

  “What the hell is this?” Ronan demanded.

  Mariah gasped and stopped rubbing his back. Drakon sighed.

  Ronan demanded, “Mariah? Is that you?”

  William opened his eyes and exhaled again. A black fog swirled out of his mouth and jetted toward Ronan, circling and blanketing him.

  “What the hell is this? I canna see,” Ronan said as he rushed around the cabin, slicing the shifting black smoke with his sword.

  William edged backward, reached behind him, and grabbed Mariah’s hand. He pulled her in front of him and wrapped his arm around her waist, ready to dart her out of harm’s way if Ronan blindly ran into him.

  Through the smoke, Ronan yelled, “Mariah? Stay where you are. I’ll find you.”

  The smoke only covered Ronan, who ran around Mariah’s cabin. He tumbled into Mariah’s hammock, and the hammock spun around. Ronan swore. Smoke fell to the floor, followed by a loud thump.

  “He’s not hurt,” Drakon said. “Get Mariah out of here now. Before he slices her with his damn sword.”

  William moved his hand down Mariah’s front and backside to get his bearings on her petite body then lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. He snatched their clothes off the floor and as soon as he touched them, they disappeared. He almost dropped them and caught them before they slipped onto the floor. Cursing silently, he lay the clothing across his shoulder and carried Mariah out of the room.

  “Get this off me,” Ronan yelled. “Where the hell are ye, coward?”

  William rushed out of the crew’s quarters with Ronan swearing behind him. He decided to head for Kane’s cabin and prayed ’twas unoccupied. He didn’t know how long the fog would last. Ronan would hunt them, and William would have to pay the devil.

  Men strolled down the corridor. He bumped into a burly pirate who stumbled into the man next to him. “Eejit,” the man said. “Watch what you’re doing fool.”

  The crewman pulled out his dagger. “Somethun bumped into me.”

  “Are you daft, man? We’re the only ones in the bloody corridor.”

  “’Tis black magic. The witch.”

  William growled.

  Both men’s eyes widened.

  “Move.”

  William listened to the dragon and ran down the corridor to Kane’s cabin, holding Mariah tight against his chest. He put Mariah down and prayed neither Kane nor Hannah were inside. He dragged Mariah into the cabin and quietly shut the door. Luck was with them.

  “Say visible.”

  “Visible,” William repeated.

  Cool mist exhaled from his mouth and swirled around the cabin. His heart nearly stopped as the mist outlined Mariah’s naked form. He flicked his gaze over her as she materialized. She was beautiful, more beautiful than he’d imagined. Long black hair cascaded down her back. Her skin was chaffed where he had kissed her. He groaned at her full breasts, small waist, and dark feminine curls. He wanted her all over again.

  He sucked in his breath at the red stains on her thighs and lowered his gaze. She was no longer a virgin. Thanks to him.

  “William.” She cupped his face. “I have no regrets.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oui.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled him, her breasts pressing against his chest.

  He held her close, inhaling her heavenly scent. He ached to take her again, but Kane or Hannah could walk into the cabin and of course, there was Ronan, determined to skin the scales off his body. “Mariah.” He gritted his teeth. “We’ve got to get dressed.”

  “I know.” She kissed him. “William.” She released him. “I need to clean up.”

  Her words hammered home wha
t he had done. He was a scoundrel. “There’s a pitcher and water on the table.” He opened a dresser drawer and found one of Kane’s scarves. “Here, use this.”

  She stared at it as if it were a snake. “’Tis le capitaine’s.”

  He threw it back into the drawer and searched another until he found a cloth. “Use this. Aye, I know ’tis Kane’s, but I’ll not have you walk around a mess.”

  She lowered her gaze and took the cloth. He regretted what he said. She had nothing to be embarrassed about, but he did. His honor shamed him.

  Mariah turned around and bent over to wipe her thighs clean. He admired her slender backside. He wanted to bury his cock deep inside her.

  Afraid he’d lose control, he whispered, “Invisible.” The mist whisked over him.

  Mariah spun around, holding the red-stained cloth. “William? Where are you?”

  He clutched his clothes and slid out the door. In the corridor, he quickly donned his breeches and shirt.

  Kane’s door cracked open, and Mariah whispered, “William, Where are you?”

  Hurt filtered in those words, but William refused to answer. He had taken her, satisfying his own need. He pledged that next time he’d treat her differently. She’d be worshiped in a bed like he’d had with Sharon. He groaned. William had insisted they do the honorable thing and wait to be together until they had wed. God, he’d broken his own vow with Mariah. Damn it. If ’twasn’t for the dragon’s essence, would he have had more control? Would she?

  “William?”

  His mouth clamped shut. Guilt weighing down on his shoulders, he headed down the corridor to fetch his sword and pistol from the crew’s quarters. Kane had left them against his trunk before he had been tossed into the brig. Ronan would be hunting him, and he needed to be armed. Anger drained from him, William gathered up his sword. “Visible,” he said. “Macmillan, I’m here.”

  “O’Brien.” Ronan charged, swinging his sword high over his head.

  The crew’s quarters and the corridor were too small, and William needed distance. Drakon released a deep guttural grumble. William turned, raced out of the crew’s quarters, then bolted up the stairs with Ronan pursuing him.