Mate of the Vampire: A Vampire Romance (Blood Brotherhood Book 4)

by ML Guida

The man vanished between the clashing swords, smoke, and panic on Palmer’s ship.

  A man blocked Kane’s way, and Kane shot him, shoving him aside, and ran across a boarding plank onto the Fiery Damsel.

  Ronan made a split decision—he climbed the mast to the crow’s nest, grabbed a buntline, and swung over onto the Fiery Damsel. His hand slipped, the rope cutting into his palm. He skidded down the rope and, ignoring the pain, grabbed the Damsel’s mainmast halyard and held on tight.

  He hoped the smoke hid him from the running pirates below. He swung his foot up onto the mizzen topsail and hung onto the beam. Angelica lay on the deck, not moving. He didn’t know if the lass was alive or not, and fear swelled in his lungs. The Damsel sailed further and further away from the slumping and burning Phoenix. The flaming fires burned higher and brighter. Not yet realizing that their captain was aboard the Damsel, Kane’s crew fought hard to contain the flames, trying to keep her from burning into the sea. His face gray, William lay slumped against the bulkhead with Mariah holding his hand. Ewan raced up and down the gangway barking orders while Sean was at the wheel, trying to steer the crippled frigate.

  Men pulled a sopping wet Palmer onto the deck. Rather than thanking his men, he knocked them to the ground and loomed over Angelica. Ronan wanted to pull out his pistol, but with only one hand, he’d lose his balance and crash below.

  “Take her to my cabin,” he ordered. “Set a course for Zuto’s island.”

  “Captain, Captain!” Two men held Kane’s arms while a third had a sword pressed up against Kane’s throat. “It appears we’ve a stowaway.”

  Palmer laughed. “O’Brien. I’ve always wanted you as a guest on my ship. Take him to the brig.”

  Kane struggled and glared, the blade cutting his throat. “What have you done with Hannah?”

  Palmer furrowed his eyebrows. “Hannah? We have her?”

  “Aye, sir,” the shorter of the two huge pirates said. “Mason managed to come up behind her and knock the wench out. She’s below.”

  Palmer rubbed his chin. “Make sure she stays out. I don’t want her coming around on my ship. The bitch sunk my last one.”

  Kane struggled. “I swear, Palmer, if you—”

  “You’ll what, Captain?” Palmer sneered. “You’ve your own skin to worry about. Your slut won’t be touched aboard this ship. She’s for Zuto. He has plans for her.”

  “No!”

  Palmer shook his head, water spraying onto the men. His laughter turned Ronan’s stomach. This had gone from bad to worse.

  A burly man hoisted Angelica over his shoulder, and Palmer shoved the man out of the way. The man stumbled and fell onto his knees but held on tight to Angelica.

  Palmer and the man disappeared down a flight of stairs that led to Palmer’s cabin. Ronan wished it was night rather than the middle of the day. The blasted clouds darted away from the sun magically, as if Zuto felt victory was within his easy grasp. Ronan couldna just cling to the beam and hope he wouldna be seen. He had to make a move or condemn Angelica to a nightmare of Palmer molesting her. He wrapped his arms around the beam and slowly made his way to the crow’s nest and crawled inside. At least he was away from prying eyes. Now what the hell was he going to do?

  He needed a diversion—something to keep them from noticing an enemy swinging down from the crow’s nest in broad daylight. All he had was his sword, a wet pistol, damp powder and a blade. Not much help.

  “On the starboard side. Sails.”

  Ronan peaked over the crow’s nest. Sure enough, white sails trailed them. His Majesty’s Navy? Another pirate perhaps? The men scrambled below, trying to get the Damsel to reach top speed. It’s not much, but maybe enough for him to skim down the mizzen sail. With his back turned, maybe they wouldna notice he wasna one of them. He couldna let them reach Zuto’s island.

  Tonight was the full moon, and who knew what the hell Zuto had planned for them. He crept out of the crow’s nest and grabbed a halyard to help him propel down the sail. Luck was on him, for once. They were too busy trying to make haste and prepare the guns for another battle against the upcoming ship.

  When he reached the bottom, he lowered his head, and his hair covered his face. Someone shoved him. “Grab the mooring line and hoist the gib, mate.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Ronan nodded.

  The boatswain made his way down the gangway and clubbed another sailor on the head, for not moving fast enough. Ronan wasna sure why he hadna been discovered. Mariah? Had she cast some kind of protection spell?

  The wind howled, and the Damsel surged. He slammed into the bulkhead and grimaced. The sails behind them fell behind. Zuto again. Dread gripped him. His options were bein’ cut, one by one.

  He ducked inside the stairwell, pressing against the wall, and hid in the shadows. Death, dampness, and dread permeated the passageway. His stomach knotted. He’d been held prisoner aboard this ship too many times. Each time, he fought when dragged to the brig, but this time, he edged down on his own free will. He needed to free Kane to help him fight Palmer.

  Footsteps walked down the corridor, and he ducked inside the galley. Once again, ’twas empty, and he flattened against the wall until the murmuring of voices and shuffling footsteps faded.

  He gripped his sword and slowly made his way down the passageway to the depths below. Lanterns cast shadows on the wall. With each step, he stopped and listened for the tiniest footstep or breathing. Only silence greeted him. Kane must not be being tortured, or Ronan would hear his screams. Was Hannah in that horrible place or someplace else? Did Palmer plan on abusing both women? The cur. He deserved to have his heart cut out and fed to the sharks, but the bastard had no heart—pure evil thumped through the man.

  As he edged deeper into the pits of the Damsel, the stench of mold, gore, and filth turned his gut into knots. Lord, he hated the odor. He’d been forced to breathe and taste it for weeks. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, blackness met him. No lanterns burned. He thought about going back upstairs to snatch a lantern, but the alarming echoing of footsteps propelled him to rush into the darkness.

  He flushed his body against the wall, raising his sword to strike down whoever entered the brig. A muffled groan caught his attention, and he peered deeper into the depths of despair. A match struck against a flint. He sucked in his breath.

  A lantern lit up the brig. Kane was strapped to the rack, a gag stuck in his throat. Hannah and Angelica were absent.

  “Macmillan,” Palmer smiled. “So, nice to know that you found your way back into my playhouse. Couldn’t stay away.”

  “Go to hell, Palmer.”

  “I don’t think so. At least not yet. Zuto said to bring you too, Macmillan.”

  Ronan held his sword, pointed at Palmer, ignoring his three lackeys.

  Palmer curled his lips. “Lower it lad.”

  “Afraid?”

  “Don’t be a fool.” He nodded. One of the lackeys drew out a sword and stuffed it under Kane’s neck, drawing blood.

  “Lower it, Macmillan. Or you’re minus one captain.”

  Ronan gripped his sword tighter and thought about charging the grinning lackey, but he’d never make it in time. Cursing his own stupidity to think Kane would be unguarded, he dropped the sword and it clanged onto the floor. Sighing, he’d failed again.

  Palmer flicked his hand. “Strap him up.”

  The two men rushed over to him and Ronan glared at Palmer, wanting to disembowel him in his own chamber of horrors. The men disarmed him and dragged him to the wall, where Lark had been strung up for months. When the manacles were clasped on his wrists and ankles, he clamped his jaw tight.

  Palmer strolled over to him. “So, glad you joined us. I don’t like disappointing Zuto. He doesn’t tend to be forgiving.”

  “Why the hell does Zuto want me?”

  Palmer shrugged. “I’m not sure. Some kind of ritual.”

  “Ritual?”

  “Aye. It appears he needs both you and Angelica.”


  “Leave her alone.”

  With one hand, Palmer grabbed his cheeks and pressed his thumb and fingers into his flesh, pinching them together. “She’s none of your concern. She’s naked in my cabin, waiting for my attentions.”

  “No.” He sounded pitiful and weak. Hate flushed over Ronan, his muscles tensing. He yanked on his chain, bringing a sardonic smile to Palmer’s lips. He lowered his hand and strolled over to the rack. The lackey lowered the sword, backing away.

  “I’ll leave you alone in here with your stunned Captain.” Palmer took out a blade, then pressed it against Kane’s cheek. “Maybe he needs a matching scar.”

  Ronan stuck out his chin. “You coward. If he were armed, you’d not be so lucky.”

  Palmer chuckled. “But he’s not armed is he? Helpless as a sleeping babe.” He shielded his dagger back into his belt. “’Twas much too easy. Zuto should reward me handsomely.”

  “With what?”

  “Why slaves, of course...And the Soaring Phoenix.”

  Cold chills slid down Ronan’s spine, and he shivered. “What slaves?”

  He flashed Ronan another cruel smile, revealing pointy teeth. “You, lad and the crew.” He backhanded Kane across the face and got a low moan. “But only after you watch me skin your captain alive.”

  Chapter 22

  Angelica woke, her wrists bound and her ankles tied to a chair. The stench of dead fish wrinkled her nose. Hair hanging in front of her face, she peered through the strands, fear freezing her blood. She was back in Palmer’s hated cabin. She hated his stained bed where he’d forced her to lay and fondled her.

  She moved her wrists. Someone groaned behind her. Over her shoulder, she glimpsed long brown hair and inhaled a scent of jasmine. “Hannah?” She stretched her fingers and caressed soft skin. “Hannah, can you hear me? Wake up.”

  The door opened. Palmer strolled in and shut the door. He leaned against the door and licked his thin lips, slobber trickling down his chin. Bile swirled in her gut, and she shuddered. She was with child, Ronan’s child. What if Palmer did something to cause her to lose the babe?

  He walked over to her. He picked up a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his thumbs. “Why, you look a little tangled, beautiful.”

  “Don’t touch me.” She twisted her head, yanking her hair out of his foul clutches.

  He clutched her neck and bent over. He inserted his putrid tongue down her throat and tasted of dead fish. She gagged, turning her head, but was powerless. Palmer forced her to endure his disgusting kiss. He slipped his fingers inside her bodice and pinched her nipple. She couldn’t take it anymore and wouldn’t let him do this to her, not again. She bit down hard, her teeth ripping into his tongue.

  “Bitch.” He jerked back and slapped her across the face. Black dots swam in front of her eyes, pain throbbing in her cheek.

  “Stay away from me.”

  He studied her, lust reflecting in his eyes. “True, I can’t take you now. Not until Zuto’s finished with the ritual.”

  She swallowed. “What ritual?” She couldn’t hide the fear in her voice.

  “When he takes your baby and leaves you an empty shell and mine to control, my little whore.” He pinched her cheek hard.

  Hate whooshed over Angelica like an icy blast of cold air. Her stomach curdled, bile blitz up her throat, and burned her mouth. “I’ll never submit to you again.”

  Desire flamed in his eyes. “Ah, but you will. Mindless whores do what they’re told.”

  Angelica shivered. “Let Hannah go.”

  He snorted. “Are you daft? She’s worth ten of you. Zuto will hand her over to his god, and both his reward and mine will be great.”

  “But he’ll kill her.”

  He shrugged. “Why do I care about O’Brien’s whore? Soon both of them will be dead, and I’ll be rid of them forever.”

  She bared her teeth. “You’re a bastard.”

  He grabbed his cock. “And your master.”

  She refused to flinch and tilted her chin. “The Phoenix will find you.”

  He released his cock. “I hope so. I want her as well.”

  Her throat hurt from gulping for air. “You’re mad.”

  “I’ll leave you here to contemplate your faith.” He walked over to the bed and picked up a blanket and brought it to his nose. “I can detect your scent.” He dropped it and grabbed his crotch. “Next time, I’ll not be satisfied with pleasuring myself. I’ll stuff my cock deep inside you.”

  Her pulse elevated and blood surged through her. Her muscles and veins strained against her skin. “I’ll be dead first.”

  He grabbed her hair and licked her cheek. Slobber and spit drenched her. Angelica shuddered, and she bit her lip to keep from spilling bile onto the floor. He laughed and slammed the door shut. She wouldn’t submit, not ever. She’d kill herself first. She stared at her stomach not knowing if a babe grew inside her. She hadn’t felt it move, but the demon was so incessant. If she was pregnant, Zuto would never touch her baby. Even if it meant killing herself.

  “Angelica?”

  “Hannah? You’re finally awake.”

  “They forced some kind of foul, burning liquid down my throat, and I have a throbbing headache and can’t concentrate. When I draw on my power...” She gasped. “Stomach hurts. Head keeps spinning.”

  “You can’t draw on your power.” Disappointment flared in Angelica’s low voice.

  “No, I’m sorry.” She panted. “For some reason…ah…power leaves me.”

  Enraged, Angelica pulled on her wrists and tried to move her ankles.

  Hannah cried out. “You’re tightening the bonds and cutting off my blood.”

  Angelica shrieked in frustration. “We’ve got to do something. I’m not going to have that fiend touch me again or let him hand you over to a demon.”

  A loud crack stopped Angelica’s struggling. “What was that?”

  “My chair,” Hannah whispered. “The back cracked. Maybe we can rub the rope on the jagged edge.”

  Cold chills drifted down Angelica’s back and she shivered. She looked nervously at the doorway. “But that will take time.”

  “Do you have any better suggestions?” Hannah’s sharp tone made her wince.

  “No,” she grumbled.

  “Now, move your wrists over the broken wood.”

  “What about you?”

  “Because,” Hannah’s voice grew faint. “The pain…I’m about to pass out.”

  Angelica slumped backward as Hannah passed out, pulling her wrists tighter. Numbness set on her fingers. Gritting her teeth, Angelica forced her stiff fingers to find the jagged wood, but she pricked her finger. Pain jolted up her shaking arm. ’Twas up to her.

  She moved her bound wrists across the wood, hoping it was sharp enough to cut through the rope. Wood splintered and cracked.

  Her heart pounded with fear. She was afraid that any minute Palmer would return. Splinters dug and cut into her flesh, but she didn’t care. She pulled her wrists apart, hoping to stretch the rope and force it to unwind. A sharp edge stabbed her palm, and she cried out.

  “Come on,” she spat. She inhaled one deep breath, and with all of her strength, moved her arms, ignoring the throbbing pain. Wood snapped. Rope unraveled, scratching her, and she broke free. “Hannah! I did it!”

  Her answer was Hannah slumping over onto the floor and moaning.

  Angelica bent over and tried to release her ankles, but with her numb fingers, she couldn’t untie the tight rope. “Damn it!”

  She sat up, her back aching, sweat trickling down her chest. She rubbed her fingers, trying to move the blood between them. Palmer had to have some kind of weapons in here. Maybe in the oak desk?

  She rocked her chair, scraping the floor, moving at a turtle’s pace to his desk. Papers cluttered the desk, and an ink well was tipped over staining the scratched wood. There was an empty mug with black stains, but she didn’t see any weapons. Palmer was such a slob she’d hoped he’d left behind a blade
or a pistol, but luck wasn’t on her side. Footsteps came along the corridor and she trembled, but kept rocking the chair. She reached the desk. The footsteps stopped. She waited for Palmer to open the door and do who knew what.

  She closed her eyes and bit her lip. The footsteps faded. She opened her eyes and stretched her arms, her fingers barely reaching the desk. They ran up against something sharp under the table, and she slid it to the edge. A tainted dagger! She seized it and leaned over. The dull blade failed to cut through the rope, but she didn’t give up and kept moving it back and forth. Twinges of rope untwisted and uncoiled. She raised her right leg and broke free.

  “Hannah, Hannah!” She jerked up, but Hannah was crumpled on the floor with the chair on top of her. Adrenaline shot through Angelica like a cannon. She rushed over and sliced through the ropes that bound Hannah’s ankles. She shook her. “Hannah! Wake up! We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Hannah’s eyes fluttered. “Can’t. Sick.”

  “Yes, you can. Do you know what Palmer will do to you?” She draped Hannah’s arm around her shoulders. “Now, stand, damn it.”

  Angelica stood, dragging Hannah to her feet. If she’d been a petite woman, they’d have both fallen over. Hannah leaned against her as they made their way to the door. Angelica put her shaking hand on the doorknob, praying no one was guarding them.

  Angelica slowly turned the knob and peeked out. Lanterns lit the dim corridor. Male voices came down the stairs, and she shut the door and leaned against it, her heart pounding, afraid the crewmen could hear her thundering heart. She waited and waited. When the sound of footsteps and muffled voices faded, she cracked opened the door.

  “Hannah, please, I can’t carry you.”

  Hannah sighed. “I’ll try. Every time I move—” She grimaced. “Lead on.”

  Angelica nodded. Not waiting another second, she hugged Hannah closer, and the two women crept out of the cabin, one shuffling, the other dragging. Angelica panted as she hauled Hannah down the corridor. Every time Hannah groaned, Angelica cringed. It sounded like cannon fire echoing down the hallway. She stopped at the crew’s quarters, the loud snores curling her blood. If even one pirate woke, they’d be caught. She lowered Hannah to the floor and whispered, “Listen to me. We have to crawl past the doorway, or we’ll be caught. Can you do this?”