Heart of The Vampire: A Vampire Romance (Blood Brotherhood Book 3)
Author: Guida, ML
Date: 2019-05-30
Rights: Copyright 2019 ML Guida. All rights reserved.

Heart of the Vampire

ML Guida

Buffalo Mountain Press

Copyright © 2019 by ML Guida

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

Contents

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Excerpt of Mate of the Vampire

Dear Reader

About the Author

Also by ML Guida

Foreword

Hello readers!

Heart of the Vampire was formerly known as A Pirate’s Agony.

It’s loosely based on Annie Palmer, the White Witch of Rose Hall in Jamaica.

Annie Palmer was born in Haiti and practiced black magic. She married John Palmer. The rumor was that she killed not only John, but two other husbands.

She tortured the slaves at Rose Hall and even took some of them as lovers. Eventually, the slaves revolted and murdered Annie.

This book does contain violence and does not hide the brutality of slavery, but Amadi is captured by a woman similar to Annie Palmer. However, don’t worry. He does get his happily ever after.

Chapter 1

London, January 1671

Violet Perdue’s stepfather dragged her by the arm upstairs to their flat. His fingers dug into her tender flesh.

She twisted and kicked at his shins. “What is the matter with you? I have to go to work. One of us has to work.”

He shoved her inside and locked the door behind him. He panted hard. His rum breath huffed into her face.

Violet gagged. She slammed her fist down onto his wrist. “Unhand me, you ogre.”

His eyes went wild. “They’re after me!” His voice was suspicious.

Was he hearing things again? “No one is after you.” She didn’t have time for him. She was supposed to be at the bakery working, not playing nanny to Art’s delusion.

“They’re after me, Lucy. You’ve got to lie and tell ’em I’m not here.”

Violet’s heart ricocheted against her chest. Blood thundered between her temples. Oh, no. He’d called her Lucy, her mother’s name. She had to convince him she was Violet. Bad things happened when he thought she was Lucy.

She cleared her throat. “Art, I’m not Lucy.”

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed back the hollowness of not having her mother around. She missed her. The world was lonelier, colder, sadder without her.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about? You’re my wife.”

“No, I’m not. I’m Violet. Remember?”

He shoved her hard, and she slammed into the wall. Sweet Jesus, he was dipping into madness, a madness that could send her back to the hospital.

“Art, I’m not Lucy. I’m Violet.” Her mother had told her to remain calm when Art took a turn for the worse. That’s what she’d called it—a turn for the worse. More like a turn into hell.

“No, you’re not. You can lie. Violet can’t lie.” He spat on the ground. “Your daughter has gotten me into trouble one too many times.” He paced in front of the door. There’d be no way she could escape.

Breathe, just breathe.

Her mother had said to repeat his name and her name until he came to his senses. But if his eyes narrowed, he licked his lips, and he spoke his words backward, her mother sent Violet out of the flat. Fast.

She’d said Art was too dangerous to be around her little girl. Violet didn’t know what Mother did, but when she returned, Art would be back to normal.

But Mother was gone. ’Twas only her. Alone with a man who could kill her.

“Art, I need you to calm down and listen to me. Look at me.” She fingered a strand of her hair. “I’m Violet. See, I have red hair. Mother had black hair.”

He bunched his eyebrows, and confusion flashed into those crazy eyes. For a moment, his eyebrows relaxed. He shook his head, as if to knock out the madness.

When he stopped, her hope died. The madness had won.

He raised his fist and a look she hadn’t seen before came over his face. A look that froze her blood.

“Don’t lie to me. I don’t have time to argue with you. Er’yeht retfa em.”

Violet’s heart raced around her rib cage, and her insides shook like an out of control rocking chair. Sweet Mother of Joseph. He was talking gibberish—saying his words backward.

She was in trouble, real trouble.

She edged to the kitchen to keep distance between them. She could control him when he was acting like a leering pig, like when he invited her to his bed. But she couldn’t control him when he acted like a rabid warthog. She grabbed the skillet off the stove. If he as much as tried to kiss her cheek, she’d hit him in the head.

Sleeping in front of the hearth was safer, especially with the skillet in her hand.

But now he was in control—murdering control. What had her mother done to calm him? She never told Violet the secret.

Art charged. She raised the skillet over her head, ready to swing.

But he brushed past her. “I need a weapon. A gun.”

She gripped the skillet tight. “We don’t have any guns.”

He snapped his fingers and licked his lips, then ripped open the pantry door. “Erehw did ouy edih eht snug?”

Her heart battered against her ribs, making her breathe fast and hard. His words were backward again. And he was accusing her. If he didn’t like her answers, he’d hurt her.

“Art, we don’t have any guns. No one’s after you. You’re safe.”

He ran to the kitchen window and peeked out as if he feared devils would jump in and drag him to Bethlem. He’d been locked in the hospital several times after attacking Violet for not lying to the creditors. When he was like this, he’d forget she couldn’t lie. He’d beaten her so badly she couldn’t work. Tiny chills rolled over her tightened skin. She edged close to the door, ready to run if he lunged.

“On. I ees meht.” He stood taller, then jumped back from the window. He shoved her into the wall then ran into the bedroom.

“Who are you seeing?” Mother of mercy. He was getting worse, much worse. She needed to get out of here before he hurt her again.

Hoping he’d stay in the bedroom, she clutched her shawl tight and crept toward the front door. Still holding the skillet in case he sneaked up behind her, she reached for the doorknob.

Someone pounded on the door hard.

Violet jumped back and put her hand to her throat as if to keep her tumbling stomach from leaping out of her open mouth.

The doorknob rattled. “Denham? Open up. We know you’re in there, you worthless cur.”

Someone had been chasing Art. Mother of God. ’Twas Thomas Wilkson.

Damn it! Art had gambled money, money they didn’t have—her money. Couldn’t Thomas see Art was sick? No. He wouldn’t care. He wanted his money. Now.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

The rotted oak door wouldn’t hold. ’Twas a matter of deep breaths before Violet would be fighting for her life, fighting for her sick stepfather not to have his face carved out like a gourd.

She held the skillet up over her head.

“You’ll be sorry if I have to come in there, ye gamblin’, thievin, whorin’ bastard. Pay up, or I’ll gut you like a squealing pig. ”

The voice struck fear in Violet’s heart.

Her throat seized. She’d seen Thomas mark men, for not paying their gambling debts. He’d slice their faces into a slow and painful, bloody mess.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The door buckled as if an angry bull charged it. Wood splintered. One good shove, and it would give way.

Her stomach twisted into a butterfly knot, ready to fly away. She touched her cheek, not wanting to be scarred, to be wrongly punished, to be a freak. She thought about grabbing a knife, but all the damn knifes were dull while Thomas’s would be sharp. Deadly sharp.

Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.

She faced the door. Her heart beat as hard and loud as the wild thumps. She’d never killed anyone before, but she was ready to fight, ready to battle, ready to kill.

“Fine,” a gruff voice said. “One.”

Whomp.

More wood splintered.

Sweat trickled into Violet’s eyes.

“Two.”

She raised the skillet over her shoulder and clamped her jaw tight. Stay focused. Stay calm.

Whomp.

The door cracked.

“Three.”

The door busted open.

Violet screamed.

Two men barged into the flat.

She tightened her grip on the skillet. It would be like swatting a wooden spoon at two snarling wolves. But at least the skillet was a weapon.

Thomas flashed his gaze over her. “Put that down. We want your father. We’re not here to hurt you.” He scanned the flat. “Unless you lie.”

Malice glittered in his eyes. Her throat tightened, and fear blurred her vision. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

Harvey took a step toward her. “Now, tell us where the crazy bastard is.” His voice was too squeaky for a man his size. He might talk like a creaky floorboard, but with one hand, he could break a man’s neck.

Disgust swirled in her gut. She found her voice. Her father wasn’t crazy. “Art Denham is not my father. He’s my stepfather.”

Thomas walked into the tiny kitchen and opened the kitchen pantry. “We saw him dart in here. I’m not going to ask again.” His voice was low, too low.

The hair on the back of Violet’s neck turned stiff. He could do violence, had done violence. A frying skillet was not going to keep him from slicing her face.

“He’s not here,” she blurted.

The dreaded burning sensation immediately stained her left cheek.

Thomas’s brows muddied. “What’s wrong with your face?”

“Nothing.” The itchiness spread down her throat.

Thomas stalked her.

She backed into the wall, wishing she could dart out of the flat. But they blocked her escaped. She was trapped. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Thomas folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “He’s not worth protectin’.”

The understatement of White Chapel. She tilted her chin. “I’m not lying.” The stinging intensified on her cheek and throat. Damn it! She wanted to itch it, but she couldn’t lower the skillet.

“I swear…,” she said. “He’s not…” She groaned. Hot welts spread down her arms. Fiery red blotches broke out on her hands.

Thomas laughed and shook his head. “You’re a bonny lass. Is this worthless bum worth all this pain? He’d hand you over to a debtor’s prison before you could say Hail to the King.”

Harvey’s eyes widened. “Blimey, you’re turning into a red-skinned doll.”

Before she knew what was happening, Thomas seized her arm. She slammed the skillet into his arm. He growled and knocked the skillet out of her hand. He shook her. Her teeth rattled.

“Listen wench.” He whipped out his blade. “You lie to me, and I promise you’ll scream in agony.”

Violet tried to speak, but she only squeaked. Her wide eyes followed Thomas’ knife. Her heart banged harder and harder. Blood soared through her veins. She wished she’d pass out. Let them find Art. She didn’t care.

He gestured at Harvey. “Search the place.”

A crash in the bedroom brought smiles to the two men. Thomas tilted his head. “Get him.”

Harvey marched down the hallway. What the hell was Art doing?

“On, yevarh,” her stepfather said. “Enola em evael.”

“What’s he babbling about?” Thomas shook her.

“He’s mad. He’s not responsible for what he does.” She didn’t know why she was protecting Art, but all she wanted was for these two brutes to leave.

Harvey dragged Art out of the bedroom. Art slapped Harvey’s hands as if he were a scared a little boy about to get a spanking. He deserved a spanking.

Harvey shoved Art toward them. “Where’s the money, varmint?”

“Yna evah tnod I,” Art said.

“What’s he saying?” Thomas demanded.

“He’s says we don’t have any money,” Violet said. Since she told the truth, the blotches faded on her hands.

Thomas shoved the knife back into its sheath. “I don’t believe you.”

“’Tis the truth. I work at the bakery. I’ll pay you what we owe. I promise.” She yammered fast, not knowing how she could fulfill this promise. Her wages barely paid for the flat, let alone gambling debts.

Art squirmed like a rat trying to get out of a trap.

Harvey twisted Art’s arm. “Harry says we need to bring back the money. This lout can’t pay us back.”

Art spoke more gibberish. Violet didn’t care what he said. ’Twas his fault her life was being threatened. Why couldn’t they take him away?

Harvey flashed his gaze over her. Her skin recoiled at his leer. Bile boiled in her gut. Sweet Mary, now she was going to be raped. Damn, Art. She hated him.

“Shut up, Harvey.” Thomas stared at Violet then let go of her arm. “The lass doesn’t deserve such a hard life.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“Obviously, the lass can’t tell a lie. I’ve got another idea.”

She didn’t like the icy look in Thomas’ eyes. Ever since she’d been little, she’d been able to read people’s souls. Souls were like a flimsy gaze, and if a person lied, the pure white changed colors. Black meant the person didn’t know the difference between the truth and a lie, like Art.

Thomas lifted her chin. His touch was surprisingly gently. He could easily snap her neck. “Art can’t bring us the money. And our boss Harry won’t wait for your bleeding coinage from the bakery. I know my quarrel isn’t with you.”

“But—” The word escaped her pressed lips. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wanted the money Art owed them.

“I won’t sell you to Harvey. But I need my money.” His cold voice sent chills down her back.

She wet her lips. “What are you going to do?”

“Tomorrow, a ship sails for indentured servants, and you’ll be on it. I know someone who will pay a high price for your ability.”

Her heart dropped to her toes. Not caring if Thomas hurt her, she slapped him across the face. “No! You can’t do this to me.”

He didn’t flinch, but his syrupy smile turned her insides into creamed porridge. “Aye, I can.”

He lifted her over his shoulders and carried her out of the flat. Her heart hammered stronger and stronger. Blood pounded in between her ears, blocking out all reason.

Her Freedom. ’Twas being stolen.

She twisted her body and pounded her fists on his broad back.

Now, she knew what was worse than being beaten and raped. Tomorrow, she’d be a slave.

Chapter 2

Caribbean, June 1671

Amadi hung on to the halyards to hoist the flapping sail. Angry waves crashed against the Soaring Phoenix like battering rams. Water rushed over the deck and splashed onto his calves and boots. “Hang on, men!”

Men groaned around him as they struggled to hold onto the rope. Amadi’s palm burned as it slipped. Rain pelted against him, stinging his skin, blurring his vision. The loud thunder, flapping sails, and howling wind blocked out the cries of the men. Fuming black clouds blocked out the stars and the waning moon. ’Twas as if Maketabori, God of the Underworld himself, had unleashed his fury.

His captain, Kane O’Brien, gripped the wheel with his legs spread apart. Amadi’s loyalty to the man had no bounds. Because of him, he was a free man.

“I need you to unfurl the rugged sails,” Kane yelled. “She’s trying to broach. The waves will tear her apart.”

Amadi had to strain to hear his order. “Aye, Cap’n.”

The cap’n tilted his head. “We’ve got to make port to ride out this storm or crash against the rocks.”

Lightning sizzled overhead and illuminated Saint Kitt’s familiar rocky cliffs. The ship was closer than Amadi anticipated. If the cap’n could steer away from the jagged coral reef…

He climbed the slick rigging that swung side-to-side. A halyard swung lose and slapped him in the face. He yelled and slipped. He dangled like a flopping fish. As he struggled to hang on to the rope, pain burned in his over-stretched arms. The damn rope cut and scratched his palms. Ignoring the pain, he gritted his teeth, tightened his grip, then by sheer force of will, swung his feet into the rigging. He bowed his head to shield himself and caught his breath.

Thunder rumbled. Rain pelted harder and harder. The Phoenix sailed closer to the deadly reef that had sunk ships and claimed hundreds of sailors.

With his last remaining strength, he crawled up the rigging until he reached the top of the swaying mast. Below, waves battered against the hull and water sloshed up on deck, threatening to pull men out to sea. The Phoenix swayed back and forth, getting closer and closer to turning onto its side. Amadi forced himself to edge across the footropes under the yard to unfurl the small, rugged, sail. Below, the cap’n struggled to hang on to the spinning wheel.

Amadi’s heart pounded harder than the crashing waves. One slip, and he’d crash to the deck, or worse, be swept out to sea. He wished tonight was a full moon. If he fell, he could change into a vampire bat.

But tonight wasn’t a full moon. He wasn’t a vampire. He was a human. A vulnerable human.

The ship rose up and down on the crest of a wave. He clung to the ropes. Waves rolled against the hull, and below, men scrambled to cling to the flapping lines. He edged out onto the foot-rope, but then the Phoenix dipped toward the port-side. He lost his footing, but this time, he couldn’t hang on to the rigging. He fell backward screaming. Lines and sails rushed past him.

He tensed, waiting to crash onto the deck of the Phoenix, breaking bones, but he splashed into a swirling black sea and plunged deep into the ocean. Salt water stung his eyes. He sucked in the sea. His lungs burned. He clawed and kicked his way to the surface. Air. He needed air.

He burst through the surface and inhaled, only to have waves smash into his face. His trousers ballooned around him and weighed him down. He bobbed up and down like an empty wine barrel.

Lightning flashed in the dark sky. The Soaring Phoenix rode up and down on the swells, moving further away.

Men ran along the deck. Amadi waved his arms. “Ye damn fools, help me!”

But cracking thunder blocked out his cries. He yelled again and again. But ’twas useless.

The men grabbed lines to hold on to the flapping sails. No one looked his way.

The Phoenix swayed and sailed further and further away. And his hope died.

He swam toward the ship, but it was as if Poseidon clutched his legs, determined to pull him into the dark sea. He was a good swimmer, the best on the ship, but each time he took a stroke, a punishing wave smashed into him, tossing him in the opposite direction.

Drawing on his last remaining strength, he smacked his arms against the waves and kicked hard, but his efforts were met with water washing over the top of his back, pushing him under. He gulped for air, only to inhale the salty sea.

An enormous swell hurled him backward. He somersaulted underwater, helpless to stop. He bashed into something hard. Pain exploded across the back of his head.

Blackness swept over him, and he remembered no more.

* * *

Amadi woke to the sun shining on his body. Waves foamed and swirled around him. He coughed up water and rolled to the side. Where the hell was he?

Throbbing pain sliced from his head to his back. He pushed up, but his shaking arms collapsed.

He spat out bits of sand and shell and wiped his eyes. “Bloody hell.” He slumped onto his back and rested his arm on his forehead. Why wasn’t he dead? He should have drowned. Was it due to being immortal and a vampire, or something else? Could Mariah or Hannah have had something to do with it? Mariah was a witch and could have cast a spell to save him. Or Hannah could have used her telekinetic powers to keep him from drowning.

Not likely. Hannah was the cap’n’s woman, and Mariah was William’s. Neither the Cap’n nor William would let those ladies out on the deck during a deadly squall.

He could now say something good about his vampire powers. At least, he hadn’t drowned. That was something, right?

Waves whirled around his legs. He rested his forearms on the wet sand and rose. Splitting pain shot to the back of his head. He winced.

Swallowing deep breaths, he focused on the now calm, blue ocean. The sea always eased his pain. Where was the Phoenix? He hoped safely tucked in the cove. Cap’n didn’t like to lose his men and would order a search. But where would he look?

After such a terrible storm, the Phoenix would need repairs. If she was docked on Saint Kitts, he’d find her—in their secret cove. Two huge cliffs bordered the cove. Only one ship could enter. If any other tried, she’d be blown to bits.

But he had another problem. He’d been a slave on Saint Kitts.

Amadi crawled into a sitting position, crossing his legs. This wasn’t good. He needed cover—to hide out until he could get his bearings.

He crawled to his feet. Blinding pain slammed into his head. His stomach swirled. He couldn’t fight the nausea and spit up Cook’s dinner of salted fish and sea water onto the white sand.

He turned his head at the foul smell and swayed on shaky legs. Refusing to fall onto the ground, he gritted his teeth and widened his stance. A cool breeze brushed over him. He staggered. He was a big man, but in his weakened state, a small gust could knock him on his arse. Lush jungle with palm trees, jungle flowers, and ferns beckoned. Cover. He needed to rest and hide, but it was so far away. Less than a hundred feet, but it might as well be a hundred miles.

Trying to push back the thumping pain in the back of his head, he forced himself to move. His boots sank into the sand, his feet squishing in the soggy leather. Move. Just Move.

Something splashed behind him. A chorus of phhishhht and stomps launched fear in his swirling gut. He glanced over his shoulder. His heart stopped. Cold, hard, terror turned his pirate bravery into mush.

Men on horseback. A large bulky man pointed. “There. We found one! Get the large buck.”

Christ, slave traders.

Amadi drew on his vampire strength and ran for freedom, but his wobbly legs failed to obey. He stumbled onto the sand. Not caring about his pounding head or swirling stomach, he sprinted toward the jungle. He refused to be a slave again, to feel the harsh lash against his back, to be robbed of his dignity. Death was a better alternative.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The galloping horses gained on him—determined to trample on his freedom. Hot breath hit the back of his neck. Sand and water sprayed on the back of his legs. The men whooped and howled.

“Get ’im, Sammy!”

Amadi’s blood pumped between his ears, roaring faster than the waves whirling around his boots. Birds cawed from the shadowy jungle as if shouting “Escape. Escape. Escape.”

If he made it into the jungle, he might have a chance to outmaneuver them. Just one more step…

Something draped over his neck. A noose! Amadi grabbed the end to brush it off. But his efforts failed. It ripped through his fingers like a whip.

He flew through the air and landed smack on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs. He lay stunned.

The rope pulled on his neck, and he slid across the sand that scraped his body. Gasping, he yanked out his sword. He rolled onto his stomach and sliced the rope. Five men on horseback surrounded him. He scrambled to his feet and scowled.

Don’t show fear.

Hate burned his gut. He would not be a slave. Vampire or human, if he had to, he’d kill them all.

“What the hell?” A skinny man sat on his horse. His eyes wide, he examined the cut rope. “The buck’s got a sword.”

“He darn got a whip on his hip.”

A man spat onto the sand. “Don’t you know darkies ain’t supposed to have weapons, boy?”

Amadi narrowed his eyes at the spit-chewing swine. He’d not been called “boy” since he was a slave on the Sorcière de Mer.

He undid his whip and prayed he possessed the strength to wield it.

The skinny man wiped the sweat from his brow. “I think this here darkie don’t know who he’s dealing with…”

“Aye, Dubois won’t like this.”

Dubois? Hell, the bastard overseer was still alive. When Hannah had been kidnapped and taken to the Sorcière de Mer, Amadi should have killed Dubois when he had the chance, but there wasn’t time. Cap’n had been hurt too badly. Bloody mistake.

Another sour-looking man clicked his heels against his horse and edged him forward. Amadi flicked the whip. Snap. Crackle.

The whip hit the horse on its snout. It whinnied and reared, barely missing Amadi with its hooves. Close, too close. He stepped aside, but he wasn’t fast enough. A hoof slammed into his shoulder. He staggered backward. Pain blinded him, but he managed to hold on to the whip.

Sweat slipped into his eyes. Between his throbbing head and shoulder, he should pass out. Most men would. But he wasn’t most men. He held the whip in his hand, ready to slash beast or man.

He wished with all his might that the crew would burst out of the jungle, or that William would fly down from the sky and exhale fire onto the tormentors. But he was alone. Alone with his worst nightmare.

“Look at him, you fools.” A tall blond man glared at the others. He pulled on his lace cuffs. “He’s obviously not a runaway slave. Must have been washed off a ship.”

The man’s clothes were a cut above the others—silk and lace. With his arrogant disdain, he reminded Amadi of his former master, Jacque D’Aubigne. At least that blackguard was dead.

The others looked between the man and Amadi as if studying Amadi for the first time.

The arrogant man leaned on his horse and stared at Amadi. “But I’ll warrant he’ll bring a fine price for his strength alone.”

His steely green eyes stripped Amadi of his humanity.

Amadi stuck out his chin. “Never.” Damn, his voice came out a bare whisper.

“I don’t think so,” the man said. “You can barely stand. Soon, you’ll be at my slave auction and sold to the highest bidder.” His evil voice sent a wave of horror shooting through him, knotting his shoulders, knocking his heart into his gut.

He was baiting him. But Amadi was a seasoned warrior and waited. He gripped his sword and whip, prepared to fight to the death.

The man flicked his hand. “Seize him.”

Amadi cracked his knuckles.

The other men hesitated and gripped their horses’ reins. Fear and doubt flickered in their eyes.

Amadi flashed them a smile. He was an expert swordsman, and even the Cap’n admired his skill with his whip. A trophy he’d taken from his days of horror.

If he rushed one of the men, he might find enough strength to knock him off a horse and ride into the jungle. ’Twas a longshot. But ’twas the only chance he had.

He stepped toward the nearest tormentor, a short, fat, man. Hard labor was obviously foreign to the slop.

The throbbing pain in the back of Amadi’s head and shoulder intensified. His vision blurred. He shook his head.

The blond man glared. “Hurry, you idiots. He’s growing weaker. What are you waiting for?”

The skinny man puffed out his bony chest and took a step closer.

Amadi lashed his whip and slashed the man’s cheek, drawing blood.

The man screamed, holding his cheek, and fell to his knees.

“You’ll pay for that,” the leader said. The promise of agony flared in his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the tremor of fear in his voice.

Amadi’s heart beat in terror. He remembered the punishments, the stench, the hopelessness.

Two of the men rushed him. But Amadi was ready. He flicked the whip, forcing the man to drop his sword, and with one powerful thrust, he knocked the other’s blade into the sword. He shoved the man away and reached for the horse.

But victory was robbed.

Another rope looped around his neck, yanking him off the rump of the horse. He sliced the rope, but a click of a pistol next to his ear froze his attempts.

“Make a move and you’re dead.”

Amadi hadn’t even heard the leader dismount. He had no doubt the man would kill him. Before he could decide whether death would be welcome, someone smacked him in the back of his head. Pain burst through him. He spun around and collapsed. Darkness blocked out the nightmare.

Chapter 3

Amadi woke with a start and shiver. Cold water dripped down him. “What da hell?”

His head throbbed dully. He lay on a dirt floor in a darkened room. Sunlight peered down through a small, round, barred window at the very top, barely enough for him to see. The stench of dried blood and human excretion churned his stomach. He moved, only to discover his hands were chained and manacles locked around his ankles. His weapons were gone. Christ, he knew where he was.

Someone kicked him in the foot. “Get up. They’re ready for ye.”

He recognized the harsh male voice—the skinny man on horseback. Amadi could easily break the bastard in two, but he was powerless. Until the full moon. But that was at least three days away. Being a slave, anything could happen in three days.

Amadi squinted and shook his head as he sat.

The man spat on the filthy floor. “I said to get up,”

“I’ll get up when I’m—”

The man slammed a fist into Amadi’s mouth. Pain exploded. Blood seeped down his throat.

The bastard grabbed Amadi’s braids and yanked. “I told ye to get up, darkie.”

Amadi had enough and slammed his shoulder into the man, catching him off guard. He released him and staggered back. When the man cocked a pistol and aimed it at him, Amadi’s plan of rushing him vanished. This wasn’t the time or place, but soon, very soon, he’d escape this hell and find the Soaring Phoenix.

The skinny sod motioned with his pistol. “Move.”

Amadi stood and towered over the man, and he couldn’t help but smile. The sniveler’s hand was shaking. He was afraid. Good.

Amadi took a step and almost fell onto his face. Manacles prevented him from doing anything but shuffle. He walked down a dimly lit corridor with cramped cells on either side. Some were filled with women and children, their faces stricken. The children wrapped their arms around their mothers’ waists or legs, terrified they’d be separated. He wished to hell ’twasn’t true. But slave auctioneers didn’t view them as humans, but property. Property could be divided based on the needs of the highest bidder.

Other cells held men crammed together, barely enough room to move. Why did he have his own cell?

’Twas strangely quiet as he and his captor walked down the hall. Cold dread stuck in Amadi’s bones.

He stepped outside and winced. The bright sun beat down upon him, and he stopped. Stone steps led down to the auction block. Men and women stood in the audience, studying prospective slaves—men, women, and children who should be free.

A woman and child stood on the block. The little girl clung to her mother’s skirts. She was barely five years old.

The same yellow-haired man stood behind a podium. “Sold to Mr. Humphrey.”

The curvy woman glanced between the yellow-haired man and a fat, leering milksop. She clutched the little girl. “What about my baby?”

“I don’t want the brat.” Mr. Humphrey undressed the frightened woman with his pug eyes. “Just her.”

Amadi had no doubt about his intentions.

“No!” The woman cried.

“Mummy,” the little girl whimpered. “Don’t leave me.”

The blond man motioned with his hand. “Take her.”

The woman hugged her little girl, who clung to her like a second skin, but their efforts were futile. One burly man ripped the little girl, kicking and clawing, away from her mother. She screamed in terror as two other brutes dragged her mother away.

“You bastards!” Amadi snarled and jerked his chains.

“I told ye—”

Amadi whirled around and knocked the sluggard down the steps. He pulled on his vampire strength and was able to stretch the links in his ankle manacles to give him more movement. Without hesitation, he lumbered down the steps. The crowd backed up as if a monster had broken loose.

“You fat pompous ass,” he shouted at Humphrey. “Let da two of them be together.”

Humphrey’s eyes widened, and he shrunk away into the crowd.

“Get him, you fools,” the blond man cried.

Men scrambled at Amadi, but he was able to slam his shoulders into them. One of them crashed into the building while the other fell onto his back. If he was free, he’d have killed them, but he had to rely on his upper body to thwart their attempts. He shuffled toward the men holding the woman’s arms, and they used her as a shield. Fools!

The woman’s lower lip trembled, and tears streaked down her dirt stained face. All hope had died in her eyes.

“I promise I’ll get your little girl.”

The blond man pulled out a pistol, cocked it, and aimed it at the little girl, whose big brown eyes grew as large as Spanish medallions. Her face paled.

“No, please, masta!” The mother collapsed onto her knees and stretched out her arms. “Don’t hurt my Chloe.”

“Take one more step—” he glared at Amadi “—and I’ll blow her brains all over this auction. Decide.”

Tears streaked down Chloe’s thin cheeks. “Mummy.”

She broke into soft sobs that tore at Amadi’s heart. Hate swelled inside him. At the full moon, the man was dead, dead, dead.

More men propelled into Amadi, pinning him against the cold wall, and this time, he didn’t fight. He focused on the pistol. Where was the cap’n? If he’d been here, Blondie’s brains would have been splattered all over the block. But he wasn’t here.

Amadi allowed the bastards to put a manacle around his neck. It had a loop in the back, and a man threaded a chain through it. The bastard then led him like a dog.

“Now that’s better.” The blond man shoved his pistol back into his belt. He gestured toward the woman. “Lead the bitch away. She has caused enough trouble today.”

Trouble? A woman who loved her child was trouble. Despite the Cap’n’s orders, Amadi would love to drain the man dry, to watch terror flicker in his eyes right before he died, an empty husk.

The woman struggled, but a man slugged her, knocking her out.

The little girl screamed.

“If you don’t stop screaming—”

Amadi glared. “You’re a gutless codfish.” He tilted his head. “Terrorizin’ a poor little poppet.”

The men gestured toward the crowd. “You’ve worn out your usefulness, boy. I doubt any of these good people would want to buy you.”

“Good. I’m not for sale.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” A sugary female voice sent shivers down his spine.

He closed his eyes. The voice reminded Amadi of Natasa, a demon from Coaybay. He jerked his head to make sure the demon hadn’t found her way back from where the time spider had taken her. But instead of flaming red hair, a woman holding a white parasol sauntered toward them. But she wasn’t the one who caught his eye—a petite redhead did.

She was dressed in little better than rags. Her dress was too big for her slender frame, but he could detect the curves underneath. She had curly auburn hair and lost brown eyes. A beacon of beauty in this hellhole.

The blond man bowed slightly. “Mademoiselle D’Aubigne—”

Amadi sucked in his breath and the skin across his chest tightened. D’Aubigne? Mother of Mercy!

“Hush, Owen. I like my bucks big.” She cast her blue, sapphires eyes over Amadi as if he were a prized piece of steak. He scowled. With her curly black hair, there was no mistake—she had to be related to Jacques, his former master. Sister? Cousin?

Owen clicked his tongue. “He’s too much for you to handle.”

“Silence!” She pointed her parasol. “I see no one else here brave enough to bid on him, oui?”

“He needs to be put down like a rabid dog,” Owen insisted.

“I’ll hear no more of your protests. How much?”

Amadi held his head high refusing to cower. “I said I’m—”

Owen yanked on his chain, and Amadi fell to his knees. “Yes, you are.”

Amadi wasn’t done yet and pulled on the chain. “I’ll not—”

“You do seem determined.” Miss D’Aubigne snapped her fingers and pointed down. “Violet, come here.”

The petite redhead walked over to her. Fear flashed in her eyes. She stood a few feet behind Miss D’Aubigne then bowed her head. Her hair shielded her face. “Yes, Maîtresse?”

Mademoiselle D’Aubigne was pretty, but she paled compared to the charming rose. Violet had a turned-up nose peppered with delicate freckles and a tan face. She must spend much of her time outside. He liked a woman who wasn’t afraid of the sun. He stared at her mouth, luscious lips made for kissing. Was Mademoiselle D’Aubigne jealous of Violet? Was that why she was forced to wear such an ugly brown dress compared to the Maîtresse, who wore a green gown that matched her eyes?

“Look at me, buck.”

Amadi glared. “My name is Amadi.”

“Did you give yourself this name?” Mademoiselle D’Aubigne asked. “Violet?”

Violet raised her head and stared. He could not tear his gaze away from her perceptive gaze, even if he had wanted to. ’Twas as if strong hands held his head. When he moved, pain shot behind his eyes.

She shook her head. “No, he did not name himself.”

He gasped as he was released. Was she a witch?

“Amadi?” Mademoiselle D’Aubigne said slowly and frowned as if she was trying to remember. “Are you originally from Saint Kitts?”

“No.” Amadi sucked in his gut. Please, don’t let her remember he was once a slave here. “No, he’s not.”

Amadi kept his face frozen.

But a huge red blotch formed on Violet’s face. It looked like someone had slapped her and left a handprint.

Mademoiselle D’Aubigne pointed her parasol at Violet. “Violet.” Her voice was sharp.

“I’m tellin’ da truth.”

A similar blotch formed on her cheek, blistering. She rubbed her cheeks and hung her head. “No, no,” she whispered.

“No, he’s not from Saint Kitts?”

“He’s from here.”

Amadi glared and bared his teeth. He wanted to slap the wench. Did she have any idea what she’d just done?

She raised her head. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed silently.

He blinked. The blotches had completely vanished. What the hell?

Owen slapped him on the back of the head. “You were a slave, here? Who owns you?”

His heart thundering, Amadi gritted his teeth. “No one owns me.”

Mademoiselle D’Aubigne flashed him a confident gaze. “Violet.”

Violet wiped her eyes. She glanced between Amadi and Mademoiselle D’Aubigne. “I don’t…”

“Before you answer.” Mademoiselle D’Aubigne held up her palm. “Just to let you know, I’ve decided to buy Chloe, and if I see one blotch on that little creamy face of yours, she’ll pay the price. Comprenez-vous?”

This place was monstrous, worse than the bowels of the Fiery Damsel. Not even Quinton Palmer threatened to torture a child.

Violet bit her lip. The same pulling sensation fell over Amadi, and he turned his head, trying to fight it. Willing Violet not to betray him.

Mademoiselle D’Aubigne tapped her parasol on the ground. “I’m waiting, Violet.” Her impatient voice sent a heat flushing through Amadi’s body.

He clenched his fists. Terror pulled into his gut. Don’t say it.

Chloe sniffed.

Violet looked at the little girl. Compassion flooded her eyes. She sighed. “He’s yours.”

The corners of Mademoiselle D’Aubigne’s mouth turned up into a smirk. A tremor of fear quivered through his gut. He remembered that smile.’Twas the same one Jacques gave him before he tortured him.

Chapter 4

Amadi huddled in the cramped wagon next to Chloe and four other adult males. The manacles around his wrists and ankles chafed his flesh. Sunlight peeked through the bars, warming his skin. The stench of human sweat permeated the unusually small wagon. ’Twas twice as small as the Cap’n’s cabin. He wasn’t able to stretch out his legs. Due to the many bodies, he had his knees up against his chest. The other males were just as crunched.

He sucked in a breath at a twinge in his thigh and jerked.

Chloe laid her head against him and gripped his arm hard. For a small child, she had amazing strength. She looked up at him. “I want my mummy.” Wetness dampened her black eyelashes and streaked her dirty cheeks.

His stomach knotted at her pleading face. “I know.” He wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, but his wrists were bound tight. “Try to sleep, poppet.” He cursed at not being able to save her mother and leaned his head back on the iron bars. He sang a song he remembered some of the women slaves used to sing to calm their babies.

Three of the men knotted their brows, surprised at his voice, while the second one raised his eyebrow. He ignored their astonished looks, hoping Chloe would rest.

She slowly closed her eyes and nestled closer. Her whimpers diminished, and her muscles relaxed. She fell asleep. He hoped she dreamt about happier times, if she had any happy times.

He shifted his weight, and the iron neck ring and the manacles around his wrist and ankles rubbed his skin raw. For the twenty-eighth time, he tried calling upon his vampire powers to break the links, but ’twas useless.

The wagon lurched. He banged into the man next to him.

The man stared at Amadi. “You protected da girl.” He was muscular and had a thick scar from his eye down to his chin. The scar reminded Amadi of the Cap’n, and he wondered again where he was.

“Aye, I did.” Amadi lowered his voice so as not to wake Chloe.

“You shouldn’t have brought her here.”

Amadi bunched his eyebrows. “Why?”

The slave leaned forward, but he was shackled to the bars. “Da missus is a witch.”

Amadi tensed. Since the last battle on Zuto’s island, he’d had enough of witches and their strange ways, except for Hannah and Mariah. They weren’t evil.

A bald man nodded. “The mistress claims to practice voodoo.” He looked over his shoulder as if someone was behind him, listening. He lowered his voice. “But she’s twisted it. Made it evil. She done killed her last husband.”

“I don’t fear witches.” Amadi’s voice was strong. Maybe too strong.

The driver glanced over his shoulder and glared.

“You should.” The scarred man lowered his voice, and Amadi detected fear.

“The mistress picks a buck an’ takes ’im to her bed.” The man curled his lip. “If he pleases her, she’ll keep him in da house until she tires. When she tires, she tortures him.” He rattled his chains. “But that ain’t da worst part. She’ll order his death. Boiled alive. Dat little girl would be better elsewhere. Any place is better.”

Amadi’s gut hurt. He wanted to debate, but the man’s argument made sense. “What about da redhead with her? Is she a witch too?”

The scarred man shook his head. “I don’ know nothin’ about her. She’s never far from the mistress. Not sure why. But I think it’s magic, the darkest magic.”

Amadi clenched his bound wrists. “Why do you think dis?”

“Because bad things happen around her. I think she’s cursed.”

Amadi’s throat closed up. He didn’t respond. Unfortunately, he understood curses all too well.

The conversation died as quickly as it had started. No one spoke as the wagon creaked along the rocky road and each time the horses’ hooves clomped on the cobblestone, they jostled into each other. Soon, he’d be assigned to a slave gang again and forced to work in the fields. He desperately missed the open sea and the salty air on his face—the right to make decisions or offer an opinion on the Soaring Phoenix without fear of reprisal.

The sun sank lower as the horses pulled into the slave quarters—a bunch of broken down wooden shacks. Weeds—oleander, nightshade, dumb cane—grew around the shacks. All deadly. Unease settled into his taunt muscles. He didn’t remember the poisonous weeds being here when he was enslaved.

He whispered to the man next to him. “What’s with da deadly weeds? They weren’t here when I was here.”

The man moistened his lips. “Spells. The mistress uses them for evil purposes.”

The cage door swung open.

The man lowered his gaze and stopped talking.

Amadi cursed his blight. Gèrard Dubois stood with his feet shoulder length apart and held a cat-o’-nail-tails in his hand. “Hurry and get out.”

Dubois was uglier than what Amadi remembered, with his dark eyes and curled lip. He had been Jacques D’Aubigne’s overseer, and Amadi had hoped that after Dubois’s last entanglement with the Fiery Damsel, he’d stay clear, but he wasn’t that smart.

Amadi nudged Chloe. “Wake up, lass. We’re here.” He tried to keep his voice calm so as to not scare the mere chit, but the vacant eyes of the slave children huddled around their mothers left little doubt the horror they’d witnessed.

Chloe blinked open her eyes. “Mummy?” She clasped his arm.

“Shhh, we need to move.” He tilted his head for her to move, afraid if she hesitated, she’d experience Dubois’ whip.

Dubois narrowed his eyes. “I said now.”

Chloe’s eyes widened, and she stood, her little legs trembling. She stumbled after the men, but kept glancing back. Amadi forced his cramped legs to move and maneuvered out of the wagon, keeping his head down, hoping Dubois wouldn’t recognize him. But his fortune hadn’t been good ever since he drank from Zuto’s lake.

Dubois flicked his whip. “Welcome back, Amadi.”

Amadi blinked.

“Oui, I remember you. You’ll not like it here. I promise.” He slapped the butt of his whip on Amadi’s chest. “If you try to strangle me like you did poor Franc Bèringer, when you escaped, I’ll see you burned alive. You’re damn lucky you’re not dead. But the decision’s not mine. If it were, you’d be dead.”

Amadi’s muscles strained and his breath was loud in his ears. If he had half a chance, then he’d strangle Dubois with his bare hands.

Amadi filed into line next to the other men, and Chloe wrapped her arms around his thigh. A white carriage pulled up to him, and the door swung open. Maîtresse D’Aubigne stuck out her hand, and the footman helped her out. Her white, frilly gown swooshed as she headed over. She twirled her white and pink parasol. Her black hair was pulled up into a bun, and loose black curls flared around her face.

She was a beauty, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Violet in her pale, drab, brown dress. Her face and hands were tan opposed to the mistress’ white creamy skin and the gloves that protected her hands. Violet followed the mistress, but always three steps behind like a trained dog.

“Oui, Fine bucks.” She stopped in front of Amadi and flashed a leering smile. “Especially you. You make these other garçons look like mere boys.” She turned to Dubois. “He’s the one.”

“But Mademoiselle D’Aubigne, he’s not to be trusted.” He slammed the butt of the whip into Amadi’s back.

Amadi bit back a groan.

“He strangled Franc Bèringer, the last overseer. He should be burned alive.”

Amadi braced his shoulders in defiance and glowered at Dubois.

Maîtresse D’Aubigne pointed at Dubois. “Touch him, and you will feel my wrath.”

Dubois’ eyes widened, and he set his jaw. Fear itched into his face. He was afraid, very afraid.

She smiled. “Fix him up and bring him to me. The smell of the other slaves is tainting his.” She sauntered up to Amadi, her eyes gleaming with devilry. “I want to smell only him. Then bring him to my private chambers where he can pleasure me.”

The woman had no shame, and neither the slaves nor her men flinched.

Amadi turned his gaze from her lusty one and stuck out his chest. “No.”

She arched a thin eyebrow. “You defy me?”

Violet shook her head and mouthed the word no. Did she actually think he would submit to such degradation? He’d been forced to once, and once was one too many times. He’d vowed never to submit again to another man—or woman. He was a free man.

Maîtresse D’Aubigne folded her parasol and ran it down Amadi’s bare chest. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you. Take him to the dungeon.”

Amadi remembered Jacques’ dungeon and how he’d found the Cap’n strapped to the wheel, his limbs broken, spikes tearing through his flesh. The realization he was going to be imprisoned in the hellhole sent dread to tangle in his stomach, to knot into a mass of nerve endings that rippled with terror and panic over the thought of what the mistress would do.

A lanky man grabbed Chloe, who stretched out her arms. “No!”

Tears pooled in her eyes, and she screamed.

“Leave da chit alone!” Amadi’s commanding voice fell on deaf ears. He wasn’t the master gunner, feared and respected by his gun crew.

The man shoved Chloe into a nearby tall woman. “Take the brat.”

The slave immediately picked Chloe up and held her close. “Hush, child,” she said. Although fear coated her voice, she strangely comforted Chloe, and the little girl clung to her.

Two men seized his arms. Amadi twisted his body, trying to knock them to the ground, but ’twas useless. His bound neck, ankles, and wrists prevented him from sliding off his jailers. A man yanked on the chain around his neck, nearly choking him, while two others clamped onto his arms. He struggled to breathe as he was dragged into the large, white-columned house. Fear lodged in Amadi’s throat and rolled around in his gut. He slipped on the hardwood kitchen floor and banged his knee, sending pain throbbing up his leg. But the man didn’t care. He pulled Amadi toward a door that led to the chamber.

“Open the damn door.” The man tilted his head at a wide-eyed servant girl.

The girl opened the door, her hand shaking. Before Amadi knew what was happening, he was shoved down the stone steps. He rolled headfirst and slammed his side onto a step. Blackness shrouded him.

Chapter 5

Amadi woke naked and with his arms stretched high over his head and his legs pulled apart. He dangled from the ceiling like a starfish. Dried blood caked on his left side where he’d slammed into the step. If he’d been human, he probably would have died. The stench of human gore clung to the dead air. A smoldering fire burned in a blackened pit. Pain throbbed between his temples, and his stomach swirled. He leaned his head back.

“He’s awake,” a male voice said. “Go tell the Maîtresse.”

Heavy footsteps hurried up the stone steps. Amadi strained to glance over his shoulder. The skinny man who had thrown Chloe at the slave woman watched him with a wiry grin.

“You’re going to learn your place. You may be bigger than most darkies, but you will learn to respect your betters. The Maîtresse will see to that.”

Amadi lowered his head. It seemed like it would take a hundred days before the full moon would rise, but it was less than two days away. Then he’d rip his tormentor’s skinny ass apart.

The door creaked open, and soft footsteps clicked along the steps. “Leave us, Troy.”

Amadi cringed at the silky feminine voice.

Troy nodded. “Yes, Maîtresse.”

The door slammed, and Amadi leaned his head back. Spider webs hung from the ceiling along with black lichen.

Maîtresse D’Aubigne strolled around him. She no longer wore her frilly dress and dressed like a man, reminding him of Hannah, who always wore the Cap’n’s clothes. But unlike Hannah, the Maîtresse’s black shirt and breeches fit snug around her body. A whip hung off her hip, and on the other, a dagger stuck into a sheath. She stared at his manhood boldly and licked her lips as if he were roasted meat. “My, you are magnifique.”

The wench had less shame than a Billy goat. She ran her bare hand down his chest, and he struggled to bounce her fingers off his skin, but he could barely even move. The woman was worse than the demoness Natasa.

“Flog off.” He used his best commanding master gunner voice.

She narrowed her eyes like a pissed off cat ready to lunge. “I know you’re part of the crew of the Soaring Phoenix.”

Ignoring his heart scurrying around in his chest, Amadi refused to wince from the hatred flooding her eyes.

“You bastards killed my brother.”

He spit onto the filthy floor. “He deserved to die.”

Hatred left her eyes, but something else replaced it, something he couldn’t read. She sauntered around him. “Oh, I believe I’m going to thoroughly enjoy this.” She laughed.

Her laughter reminded him of clanging chimes, and it rang in his ears, intensifying the throbbing pain on his left temple.

“Since you’re the only one here from the Soaring Phoenix, you’ll pay the price for killing my brother.”

He pushed back the terror brewing in his gut. “Hope he’s rotting in hell.”

Her brows deepened, and her lips turned down into a scowl. “Mmm, seems like it’s time for your first lesson in obedience.”

“I’ll. Never. Obey. You.” His voice low, he emphasized each word.

Appreciation flickered in her cold eyes. “Such fire, oui? I bet in bed, you are splendide.”

“May the devil burn you.”

He summoned all his revulsion and spit. Saliva smacked her on the cheeks. He waited for her to wipe the spit off her face then hurt him. But she did neither. She slowly moved her finger around her cheeks and licked her finger as if it were soaked in butter.

“You taste like musk.” She pulled the coiled whip off her hip and walked around him. “Let’s see how tough you really are, beau.”

He braced himself for pain. The whip crackled and lashed his back. He gritted his teeth. For a woman, she was strong, and the slash cut through his taut skin. She flayed him again and again, slicing through muscle, opening up old scars and releasing the terror of the past. Anguish pulsed through him. Each time the last ripped through him, he held his tongue, refusing to give her the satisfaction of begging for mercy.

Beads of sweat broke out all over him and seeped into his eyesHe was Amadi, the formidable master gunner aboard the Soaring Phoenix.

Forget the pain.

He clenched his fists and curled his toes, hoping she’d tire. But she seemed to have the strength of eleven men, and he’d lost count at twenty.

“I see the lash will not release a struggled scream, no? How disappointing.”

She stopped, and Amadi sucked in a ragged breath.

Something shook behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. The Maîtresse dumped a small canister into her hand. Salt. Lordy. He hadn’t noticed a small canister on a table.

Trembling, he inhaled and exhaled faster.

She flashed her gaze over him as she rubbed her palms together.

No!

She smeared her palms over his cut flesh. He flinched. Searing agony flared through him as she massaged his back, the salt seeping into his wounds. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut and yelled—a deep agonizing scream.

“Ah, oui, ’tis what I wanted to hear.”

She leaned her head against his trembling body then ran her tongue over his sensitive back.

He jerked. “Stop!” But to his disappointment, his voice was a dying gasp.

“You’re not giving the orders, gentil beau.” She cupped his ass, her nails scratching his flesh.

He twisted, but he couldn’t move and spasms of pain rushed through his body.

The Maîtresse released him and walked over to the wall with torture devices—thumbscrews, saws of different sizes, mallets, daggers, and branding irons. She ran her hand over each device until she came upon a stained mallet.

He sucked in his breath and couldn’t stop trembling. He remembered the Cap’n’s mangled limbs.

She lifted the mallet. “I thought about tying you to my bed, but I wanted you free to worship me.”

His pounding heart sank so fast he had an urge to grab it. “Never,” he panted, his voice strained.

“You lust for freedom.” She slowly flashed her gaze over him.

He wanted a blanket to cover his nakedness. ’Twas as if he were a tool, not human. He lifted his head in defiance. With each breath, he vowed, “When I’m free, I’ll kill you.”

“So brave, so stupide.” She swung the mallet and smashed it into his knee.

He leaned his head back and screamed, losing his pride.

“So sorry.”

Her jesting tone flared his contempt. She was the one who wasn’t human.

She swung the mallet into his side. Bones broke. Black dots flicked in front of his eyes. He fought to breathe.

But she wasn’t done. She hung up the mallet and picked up the branding iron that had been in the fire pit. The letters SM glowed fiery red and orange. “I want everyone to know you belong to me—including you.”

As a slave, he’d never been branded. He’d escaped that fate. Terror pushed his heart to beat faster and faster, his blood rushing through him. This couldn’t be happening. He was a free man. A powerful man. A vampire. He struggled, pulling on the damn chains, but he was locked tight.

She studied him as if she was looking where to humiliate him. An evil smile spread across her thin lips. A smile that froze his blood. She edged closer.

“I’m going to brand you as mine. So every woman will know you belong to me.” She brought the iron close to his manhood, warming his inner thighs.

Sweat poured down his back and he trembled. “No!”

But he only received harsh laughter. She thrust the iron into his right inner thigh. Pain seared into him. He flung his head back and howled.

The agony stopped, but he couldn’t think. Dizziness swept over him, and he wished he’d pass out so he wouldn’t have to look at her satisfied smirk.

“You’re mine.” She tossed the branding iron back into the glowing pit.

The stench of his burned flesh churned his gut. He was branded, a piece of property.

But the bitch wasn’t done. She grabbed his cheeks and squeezed, digging her nails into flesh, forcing his mouth open. She stuck her tongue inside his mouth, raping his mouth. He struggled but it was useless. Torment consumed him.

“Until tomorrow.” She released him and pinched his ass hard. Her lips were stained with blood, and she licked them clean. “You taste so good.”

She ambled out of the chamber, swaying her hips. Leaving him with his misery, his humiliation.

For the first time in a long time, tears stung his cheeks.

Chapter 6

Violet sat across from her Mademoiselle Celeste. Bitterness rolled up Violet’s throat. This was all her fault. She clutched her hands tightly. How could Celeste torture Amadi like that?

She and the other servants had been forced to listen to his curses and yells during dinner while Dubois leaned against the door, holding a pistol. Each time Amadi cried out, Dubois had a sick smile on his twisted face. Violet had picked at her chicken. Dubois had walked away from the door to eat a piece of bread. Violet had wanted to run down into the dungeon and kill Celeste, but she’d be dead before she even reached the bottom of the stairs.

Celeste waved her fan in front of her flush face. “Tonight I want to win big. Je veux cèlèbrer.” Her blue eyes dilated with excitement.

“Yes, Maîtresse. I’ll make sure you win.” Violet acted the dutiful servant, forcing a tight smile across her face.

Greed flashed into Celeste’s eyes. “Bien.”

“Don’t look so gloomy, Violet.”

Violet turned her gaze away from the window, wishing she could change places with any of the men and women walking the boardwalks of Saint Kitts. “I’m not gloomy.”

“Oui, you are. You’ve been pouting ever since we left the Sorcière de Mer.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Don’t argue with me.”

Violet shivered and clamped her mouth shut. She’d learned long ago, arguing with Celeste lead to pain.

Celeste tapped Violet’s knee with her fan. “He’s a slave and meant to do our bidding. Nothing more.”

Bidding? That’s what she called it? Violet pretended to act bored, but her insides seethed with anger. “He hadn’t done anything yet.”

“Oui, he had, imbècile. He’s an escaped slave and needed to be set as an example. I won’t tolerate any rebellions.” She sat taller and braced her back.

But she wasn’t fooling Violet. Celeste lived in fear of a rebellion. She should be afraid, very afraid. If anyone deserved their slaves to revolt, it was Celeste.

The carriage pulled into the circle drive of Harold’s, St. Kitt’s most expensive gaming house. It was a two-story white building with windows with pink shutters.

The young footman, Sammy, opened the door and helped Celeste down the steps. “Welcome, Maîtresse Celeste.”

“Hello, Sammy.” But she didn’t look at him. He was skinny and scrawny, not the type of buck she craved. Lucky for Sammy.

Violet dutifully trailed behind Celeste, her head bent. Sammy took her hand and bowed. “Good evening, Miss Violet. You look lovely tonight.”

He squeezed her fingers slightly like he always did. Sammy always looked at Violet as if she were the prettiest woman in town. She didn’t know why. She wore drab clothes, thanks to Celeste. In this humidity, her hair curled into an unruly mess. Her skin had turned brown and wasn’t white and pristine like Celeste’s. She usually would give the young man a flashing smile, but tonight she could only manage a slight whisper. “Thank you.”

Celeste glowered and flicked her fan, slapping Violet hard on the arm. “Come along, Violet.”

Violet winced and nodded. “Yes, Maîtresse.”

Her skin turned to gooseflesh. She rubbed her quaking arm, not understanding Celeste’s jealousy. It wasn’t like she could compete with Celeste’s hourglass figure and curly black hair.

Two muscular guards stood at the door. Harold Bristol, the owner, only invited the wealthy—the very wealthy. Those who tried to enter uninvited ended up at the nearby doctor’s office. Harold’s word was law.

One of the guards opened the door. “Good evening, Maîtresse D’Aubigne.”

“Charles.” Once again, Celeste walked by without even looking at him.

Charles didn’t greet Violet. He never did.

Violet followed Celeste into the gaming room. Harold’s was crowded with women of ill repute. Wives were not allowed to come, because they were thought to keep their husbands from gambling. Cheap laughter and the clanging of glasses hurt Violet’s ears. She wanted to be outside rather in this greed pit.

Celeste entered the primero room, where four men, including the dealer, sat at a round table. When she walked in, all four men stood.

“Welcome Maîtresse D’Aubigne.” The dealer smiled. He had gray around his temples, and his wire-rimmed glasses made his gray eyes sharper.

“I hope I’m not late.” Celeste toyed with the diamond pendant that lay between the valley of her breasts.

Tall, blond, and arrogant, Captain Stocking rushed over to the empty chair and pulled it out. “No, not at all. My, my, that’s a shiny trinket you’ve got there.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the diamond.

“This old thing,” she laughed. “I didn’t know you had arrived, Capitaine. You didn’t come and see me.” She pouted and stuck out her hand.

Her deep voice grated Violet’s nerves.

Captain Stocking kissed Celeste’s hand. “I just arrived last night and have delivered new slaves to the auctioneer. I’m sure you’ll find some to your liking.” He played with his mustache and glanced over at Violet, who sat in her usual seat against the wall.

The captain never looked at her face; he always stared at her breasts. She didn’t know why since her breasts were much smaller than Celeste’s. Violet glared and only received a mild amused smirk from the captain. She clutched her hands tight. Captain Stocking’s ship was the Magnificent, a notorious slave ship. Slaves arrived in horrible conditions—starved, beaten, diseased.

Simon Overly smiled, and his lewd gaze stripped Celeste of her gown. Violet hated his constant leering stare.

When she sat, she gave Simon a treat of looking between the valley of her breasts.

“You look lovely tonight, Celeste.” Lust flared in his eyes. “I missed seeing you last night.”

Celeste batted her eyes and waved her fan in front of her face. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

Violet bit her lip to keep from blurting the truth. What would the youngest son of the Overly Viscounts think if he knew Celeste passed him over for a slave?

Shrill female laughter made Violet jump. The door opened. Eyes blurry, Brett Livingston hung all over a blond prostitute who was at least twenty years his junior. He kissed her on the lips. “I’ll see you later, Candy.”

She turned and he pinched her buttocks. She squealed and swung her head, her expression blank.

Violet didn’t know if the woman squeaked from pleasure or pain. Livingston was rumored to be generous, but he demanded the women indulge in his every depravity.

“One of these days, Harold’s has to let me have a lady in here.” He licked his narrow lips.

“Prostitutes are forbidden in here,” the dealer said. “Only ladies are permitted.” He gave Celeste an approving smile.

Violet wanted to inform each of the men of what the lady did to her slaves, but the men wouldn’t believe her. Celeste’s beauty fooled all of the idiots. She didn’t feel bad about helping Celeste steal from them. None of the men had any morals.

She had the perfect angle to observe the men. Celeste had given her signals on how to decipher if the men were bluffing or had a winning hand or a losing hand. Violet was supposed to twirl her hair around her finger if a man bluffed, rub her nose if they held a winning hand, or fold her arms across her chest if they had a losing hand. But tonight, she was tempted to switch to punish Celeste for hurting Amadi, except Celeste would know. Violet’s rashes would turn her into a cherry.

The dealer motioned to a waitress, who hurried over to the table. She took their orders. Celeste ordered sweet tea laced with brandy while the men ordered rum. The waitress didn’t bother taking Violet’s order. She was invisible.

“Please ante up,” the dealer said. “The starting bet is one hundred pounds.”

Each player complied. No one flinched at the outrageous number. This was high stakes.

The dealer dealt out two cards to each player. Celeste cast a sly glance at Violet. Violet sighed. Each man had a blank expression. They were all experienced card players and experts in hiding a winning or losing hand.

“Captain Stocking?” The dealer asked.

The captain peeked at his cards. “I don’t want to bid.”

Simon shook his head. “Neither do I.”

Bert sighed. “Nor I.”

Celeste smiled demurely. “I do not want to bid, either.”

The dealer dealt two cards to each player.

“I’ll pass.” Captain Stocking discarded two cards and drew two more.

Violet couldn’t see his cards since his back was to her.

Celeste tilted her head. A signal that Violet was supposed to read the man’s voice. Ignoring her pounding heartbeat, Violet pretended like she hadn’t heard the Captain’s voice. He was lying. But she’d be damned if she’d let Celeste win tonight. She’d pay for ignoring her mistress, whether it was a mistake or intentional. Celeste liked to play to win. Violet’s back bore the scars of Celeste’s losing streak.

Simon discarded two of his cards. “Give me two more.”

Bert’s face went blank. “I have a numerous thirty. I bid another fifty pounds.”

But Violet knew he was bluffing. She twirled her hair, hating herself.

“I’ll pass.” Celeste discarded two cards and drew two more.

“I’ll stake.” Captain Stocking put another fifty pounds into the pot. “I bid a numerous thirty-two and bid another fifty pounds.”

Violet clutched her hands tight. Captain Stocking had a winning hand but understated what he held. She should rub her nose, but she wanted Celeste to lose. Knowing she’d pay for this later, Violet twirled her hair. Her skin burned on her throat. The damn blotches were coming.

Simon motioned with two fingers. “I’ll take another card.”

To stop the blotches, Violet quickly folded her arm across her chest to signal that Simon had a losing hand. Her neck still burned, but it lessened in intensity. She hoped Celeste hadn’t noticed.

Bert rubbed his finger under his nose, a sure sign he’d drank too much and was not concentrating on the game. “I’ll take more cards.”

Costly mistake, since he definitely had a winning hand.

He tossed fifty more pounds into the pot. She couldn’t read his mind, but suspected the new cards helped his hand.

Celeste frowned. “I’ll pass.”

The dealer gave her two cards.

Based on how stiff she sat, Violet knew she had a losing hand. She’d blame Violet for sure.

Captain Stocking threw in another fifty pounds. His gesture screamed that he had a winning hand and Violet had lied.

Celeste wrinkled her brows. Suspicion grew in her eyes.

Violet turned her head away. She’d be punished.

“I’ll pass.” Simon took two more cards.

Bret threw in another fifty pounds.

Celeste glared at Violet. “I’ll pass.”

Violet squirmed under her hatred.

“The hand has ended,” the dealer said. “Please show your cards, gentlemen and my lady.”

Captain stocked turned his hand over. He had a queen of clubs, an Ace of spades, seven of hearts, and four of diamonds.

“Very good sir,” the dealer said. “You have a primero worth sixty-one points.”

Simon slammed his cards down. “I have nothing but a numerous.”

Brett turned his hand over. He had a five of spades, two of clubs, three hearts, and a five of diamonds.

“Mr. Livingston has a primero worth fifty-nine points,” the dealer said. “Maîtresse?”

Celeste tapped her fingers on the table. Her clicking matched Violet’s beating heart. “I have nothing, Monsieur.”

Violet shuddered and got her wish, but she’d pay for it. Celeste always blamed her when she lost. This time would be no different.

* * *

Later that night, Violet kept repeating to herself that Amadi was worth it. Or was he?

Celeste pushed Violet hard. “You’ll pay for your insolence. Now take off your gown and lay down on the bed.”

Violet lifted her chin in defiance and hoped she hid the fear brewing in her stomach. She hurried to take off her gown, hating that her fingers shook.

Celeste smacked the end of the whip in her palm. She had lost over three hundred pounds at the gaming table and blamed Violet. The Maîtresse refused to admit that she was not a sharp primero player. Her endless arrogance would be the death of her.

Violet lay on her small bed and gripped the rough blanket tight. She clenched her jaw and vowed not to give Celeste the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

The whip cracked. The first lash tore into Violet’s shoulder. Pain sliced through her.

“You will do as I say. I own you. I paid Thomas a good price for you and until you pay every coinage, you’re mine.” With each word, Celeste wielded the whip again and again.

Slashes ripped Violet’s shift, flaying her back. Agony pulsed through her. Tears pooled in her eyes. She released a muffled groan.

Celeste yanked Violet’s hair. “Next time we go to Harold’s, you’ll do as I say, oui?” She shook her. “Comprenez-vous?”

Violet swallowed back a cry. “Yes.” Her voice came out pitiful.

“Bien,” Celeste said. She slapped the back of Violet’s legs. “Tomorrow, you’ll work in the sugarcane fields. I do not wish to see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Maîtresse.”

The door slammed. Violet peered over her shoulder. The bitch was gone. Lord, she hated her so much.

She released her pent-up sobs and clung to the bed. She hated working in the sugar cane fields. It wasn’t the work, but it was Gèrard Dubois following her, taunting her. He’d find any excuse to make lewd remarks, to touch her.

Celeste paid her less than what she had made at the bakery. Violet would never pay off her debt. Celeste had been in London and gambling and losing. Thomas knew about Celeste’s losing streak, and the bastard had taken Violet to Celeste. Thomas forced Violet to lie and once again, she’d turn into an itchy cherry. He convinced Celeste that with Violet’s ability, she would never lose at the gaming tables. Celeste readily agreed to buy her, but Thomas wouldn’t let her purchase Violet until Celeste paid off Art’s debt. Unfortunately, Celeste did. Every since this evil bargain, Violet’s life had been a hellish nightmare.

But first things first. What she’d endured was nothing compared to what happened to Amadi. ’Twas her fault.

He was a sailor. Maybe his ship was nearby. She’d be willing to be his indentured servant as long as he took her away from the Sorcière de Mer.

An image of kissing him or having him exploring her naked body flashed into her mind. Her cheeks burned, and her throat ran dry. She squirmed and tensed as pain seized her.

Forget it. He hated her, but maybe not enough to make her stay with Celeste.

Violet forced herself to move, ignoring the pain crippling her. She wobbled over to the mirror. Blood lashes turned her torn shift red. She cursed. “Damn it.” Now she only had one shift. She trembled, then took off her shredded shift, ripping it into more strips.. She carefully wrapped it around her sweating body to bandage her bloody wounds.

She slipped on her dress and threaded her fingers through her blood stained hair. Celeste must have scratched her.

She crept to her door and propped it open. No one was in the narrow hallway. Celeste had stayed into the wee hours of the night. The servants had long gone to bed. Terror slithered up her spine, but Violet forced herself to slip out of her room. If she was caught, she’d be imprisoned down with Amadi, or worse, tied to Dubois’s bed. Celeste always threatened to have Dubois rape Violet as a way to control her. Escape would fall into that punishment.

But Violet had to try. ’Twas only a matter of time before Celeste would make good on the threat. Knowing Celeste, she’d enjoy watching Dubois brutalize her.

Violet stuffed a pair of male trousers into her black bag. She’d managed to steal them out of Celeste’s room when she was outside talking with Dubois about the day’s events and giving orders for tomorrow. There was also a needle, thread, and rags. Many times, she’d nurse the servants in the house after Celeste had punished them—stitching open wounds, binding broken limbs. She couldn’t do much, but did what she could.

She made her way to the kitchen. Her backside throbbed with each agonizing step. She moved slower than an old woman. No, that wasn’t true. An old woman would have moved faster.

The kitchen was clean. In a few hours, slaves would rise to start cooking and preparing for the meals. Celeste liked to sleep in after a long night of gambling, but this didn’t mean the servants would have a break. Gèrard was an early riser. She didn’t want him to catch her alone.

Chapter 7

Forcing her shaking legs to move, Violet crept into the dungeon again with a bucket of clean, hot, water. She hated having to clean up the men after Celeste was done with them. It wasn’t the mess that bothered her, but the shame that reflected in the men’s eyes. No man deserved what Celeste did to them.

Celeste would send someone to clean Amadi soon. She and Amadi needed to make their escape before Celeste awoke.

The hanging lanterns cast an eerie glow, and her shadow looked like a bent-up old woman. Pain throbbed in her back. She wobbled down the stairs one step at a time, wishing she could move faster, but her shaky legs would collapse if she tried. She clasped the pail tight. Water sloshed over the side, splashing onto the dried blood on the filthy floor. The chamber stank of death and fear. Too many men had faced their worst nightmares here. Brave men who discovered there were worse things than death.

She edged closer to Amadi, where she’d left clean rags, a blanket, and her black bag. Panting, she slowly lowered the bucket. Her back pulsed with agony, and her palms stung where the metal had dug into her flesh.

Naked, Amadi was chained to the wall. The scent of burned flesh filled the dungeon, and she couldn’t help but notice the ugly brand on his inner thigh. His eyes were shut, and she thought she glimpsed wetness on his cheeks. She knew what Celeste had done, what she did to every new toy, as she called them when she purchased a man.

He must hate Violet for betraying him. She bit her lip. What could she say? Saying sorry would not erase his pain and humiliation. Why would he want to take her with him? She had to convince him that she was a prisoner, too, and beg for his forgiveness.

She dipped a rag into the hot bucket of water and squeezed out the excess water. She carefully patted the burned and blistered flesh on his thigh. His thighs were bigger than a tree trunk. She tried to ignore his manhood—even flaccid it was big. He was absolutely beautiful, a dark warrior. He deserved better than this. Could she tell him she’d be his willing slave if he’d take her away from this vile place? Pirates were known to be brutal with women captives. What would he do? Would he show her any mercy?

“What are you doin’?” Amadi’s voice was labored, as if he fought to not cry out in agony. His accent held a hint of an Irish timbre.

She was drawn to it, felt it embedding into her senses, leaving an imprint of a warrior. Heat rushed over her face. Lordy, what if he caught her staring at his manhood? She stopped, wishing she could take away his pain. “I’m cleaning you.”

Chains clanked, and he grabbed her wrist. Despite being broken, he was amazingly strong. “Get da hell away from me.”

Not a good start. “I’m here to help you.”

“Like hell you are. You’re here to—” He bit his lip and looked away. A proud man. Celeste’s favorite prey was an honorable man. She liked to break him down bit by bit until he was a broken shell.

Tears pushed against the back of her eyelids. “I’m sorry.”

His face darkened. “You know—” He lowered his gaze.

An uncomfortable sensation rotted in her belly. “I know what she does.”

“Sweet merciful heaven.” His voice broke, and he moved closer to the wall.

She cleared her dry throat. “Not everyone knows.”

“But you do.” Bitterness drenched his words.

“She can’t lie to me.”

He drew in a quick breath and released it. “How da hell does a woman do dat to a man?”

She curled her lip. “Pain arouses her.”

“Jesus.”

“There wasn’t anything you could have done. You’re powerless. Like the rest of us.”

He inhaled, his chest rising up and down. “No, I’m not. Tomorrow night’s da full moon.”

Violet frowned. “What does the full moon have to do with you not being powerless?”

He gave her a hard look, the same one her stepfather used to give her, filled with resentment and hate.

“Are you planning an escape?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Why?”

She didn’t know how to answer his question. The minute she’d seen him up on that slave auction, her heart pattered hard and her legs had trembled. He stood proud, and for some reason, power emitted from him. Since she’d come to this forsaken island, he was the only man she’d felt drawn to. She blurted, “If you are, will you take me with you?”

His scowl turned darker. “What?”

She was afraid if he got loose, he’d beat her like her stepfather. But she didn’t have much choice. “I’d sell myself to you. I can’t stay here any longer. I’d do anything, anything to escape.”

“Even sell yourself to a pirate? You do know what pirates do to women captives?” He gripped her wrist.

She winced. Despite being beaten, he was strong, damn strong. He could wring her neck with one hand. But ‘twas his veiled threat that chilled her blood. Was she condemning herself to a worse fate? Defeat seeped into her bones. She lowered her head. “Aye. Chloe is safe.”

His eyes brightened. “How?”

“Celeste has forgotten about her, and she’s hidden in one of the barracks. Michelle has her.”

“Michelle? The woman from this afternoon?”

“Aye.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He slowly released her, and red fingerprints wrapped marked her wrist. She placed the rag into the muddy water. She wished she had other abilities than knowing whether someone was lying. What good had that ever done? Gotten her into plenty of trouble.

Under his breath, he mumbled, “I’m going to kill Celeste.”

Violet overlooked his threat. Threats to the Maîtresse were dealt with swiftly. “Your head is bleeding.” She opened her bag. “I can stitch it.”

But his twisted and obviously broken knee, she wasn’t sure she could help. She’d brought what she could to heal him. Whenever she could, she volunteered to help the men condemned here. They were always the same—tall, brawny, handsome. She had trouble concentrating in the house, listening to their screams. ‘Twas worse when they were in the bedroom. And then there was the mess afterward…

“She’s goin’ to kill me, isn’t she?”

She blinked twice but held his perceptive gaze, hoping he’d believe her. “No, when she’s done, she’ll turn you out onto the sugarcane fields.”

The minute she said it, burning pain hit her left cheek, and she tried to ignore the itching sensation, focusing on Amadi’s wounds.

“Why does your face turn red when you lie?”

She refused to look at him and kept washing his leg. “I’m not lying. You’ll be fine.” Unfortunately, her voice squeaked like a baby chick.

Chains moved, and she pretended not to notice. Strong fingers clasped her chin and gently raised her face. Her cheeks burned. Not just from the itching rashes, but from staring into his handsome face. Celeste never hurt the men’s faces. But their poor bodies suffered a different fate.

“You’re lyin’.”

She shook her head, but he held her fast. “No, no, I’m not.”

Despite the agony he must be enduring, he flashed a devilish smile. “When you lie, you break out in blotches, don’t you?”

Her face, neck, and ears burned hot. “I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He caressed her chin with a finger, sending chills through her like a prairie fire. “Truth, poppet.”

His soft words penetrated her shield. She moistened her lips. Her heart beat hard, and she couldn’t lie, not to him. She tried protecting the other men to give them hope, always wishing her false promises would come true. A tear slipped down her face. “Aye, she will kill you.”

“How long?”

The fiery burn lessened on her right cheek. She forced herself to utter the truth. “After she takes you to her bed…She tires easily.” She closed her eyes, thinking of all those men, their cries, their agonizing deaths.

“I’m not dat easy to kill.”

She flung open her eyes. “Why?”

He stared at her under hooded eyes. She frowned, trying to decipher how he could be telling the truth. “I don’t understand.”

“Tell me, how long will I be in her bed?”

“Less than a week. She never keeps them more than a week.”

“She does dis often?”

She sighed. “Every time there’s a new shipment of slaves.”

“Does she know you come down here?”

“No, but she’ll send a servant to do this.”

“Why does she want me clean?”

“Because she wants to see where the skin is unblemished.”

He leaned his head back. “So she can leave new marks?”

“Aye. I’m sorry.” She pulled out her needle and thread. “May I?”

He nodded. “Your rashes are gone.”

She slowly stitched his temple. “I know. I told the truth.”

“You can tell when other people are lyin’.” ‘Twas more of a statement than a question.

“Aye. A curse.”

“Why?”

“People don’t like their lies to be discovered.” She lifted her hands. “’Tis how I got to be Celeste’s indentured servant.”

“And?”

“My stepfather is a gambler, and when his creditors came…”

“He was hidin’ money, and you told ‘em he was lyin’?”

“He didn’t have the money. But the creditors discovered this wonderful curse and decided to sell me.”

“To Celeste?”

“Aye. She was in London on holiday. Just my luck. I’ve tried to lie, to protect people from Celeste, but every time I do…”

“You turn into a strawberry.”

“An itchy strawberry.” She studied his knee. It was gnarled and split open. “I’m sorry I can’t do more for your knee. I could stitch it.” She glanced around the chambers, but there was nothing to brace it. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you goin’?”

“To find some wood to make some splints. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He rested his head against the wall.

Chapter 8

Her booming heart echoed louder than her soft footsteps. She climbed the stairs then pressed her ear against the door. No sounds came from inside the kitchen. If the servants caught her, they wouldn’t talk. They usually stayed away from Violet, fearful she’d tell the mistress of any wrong doings. Celeste was known to question Violet at length, which meant among the servants and slaves, she was a pariah.

She cracked open the door and found the kitchen empty. Adrenaline whizzed through her. Without any further delay, she raced across the wooden floor and stepped out the back door. Luckily, the waxing moon lit up the grass. She hurried over to an oak fence that was being built around a small garden and found some discarded planks. For anyone else, they’d be too long, but not Amadi. Once again, she was lucky and found some rope. Celeste would undoubtedly question her, punish her. Violet shuddered. If Celeste whipped her again, Violet would not be able to walk.

She sneaked back into the kitchen and hurried down the creepy stairs. Amadi sat still, alert. He glanced at her and shook his head. She stopped and pressed her back to the wall. He wasn’t alone.

“Did you think someone was coming to rescue you?”

Dubois’ taunting voice made her heart still. What was he doing down here?

As if to answer the question, Dubois said, “You killed my best friend. I’ve dreamed of this moment.”

“I thought I was da Maîtresses’ prize.”

“Not anymore. I’ll forget finding Bèringer. His face was purple and eyes nearly popped out of his head. He was a good man.”

“No, he wasn’t. He was a stout man with a nasty temper. He squawked like a mother hen when I choked the life out of him.”

“I’m gonna kill you nice and slow.”

Sweat trickled down Violet’s back. Her feet refused to move, and her legs trembled so badly she was afraid Dubois would hear her knocking knees. Why was Amadi so calm? Dubois was known to castrate male slaves and do worse to females.

“She’ll find another. You’re nothing special.”

She had to do something. She put the planks and rope down on the stairs. Dubois had wrapped a rope around Amadi’s neck, and he yanked, forcing Amadi to expose his throat. With his busted knee and bound hands, he couldn’t move. He had said he was hard to kill. Why did men think they were invulnerable? But he hadn’t lied. No time to dwell.

She thought about calling for Dubois and telling him Celeste wanted to see him. But if she lied, Dubois would know. He might be evil, but he wasn’t dumb. A distraction. She blew out each of the lanterns, and darkness blanketed the stairwell.

“Who’s there?” Panic flared in Dubois’ voice.

She bent down and picked up one of the planks with her shaking hands. Terror pierced her tense muscles.

Stay strong.

“I said, who’s there?” Dubois’s agitated tone made her stay glued to the floor.

Footsteps crunched the pebbles on the stone floor, and a moving lantern cast Dubois’s shadow onto the back wall.

She bit her lip, not sure she could do this. Her heart rolled around like a smashing boulder. She crouched on her knees, knowing Dubois would have the pistol at arm’s length. He was a foot taller than she, so she estimated if she knelt and he fired, he’d miss. But she could be wrong, dead wrong.

She hugged the wall.

His shadow crept closer and closer and closer. He turned the corner. With all her might, she swung and smashed the board into his knees. He yelled, then fired the pistol. Sulfur and smoke burned her eyes. Buckshot grazed her shoulder, and she winced.

Dubois fell forward. The lantern crashed onto the floor. She smashed the wood over his head. He lay still. What had she done? Had she killed a man over a slave she barely knew?

Cries came in from the house. She raced over to the wall and unlocked Amadi’s manacles, her fingers fumbling.

“What have you done, poppet?” His voice drawled with suspicion.

“He would have killed you. Or you’d wished you’d be dead. Stay here.”

He rubbed his wrists and shook his head. “Where are you goin’?”

“To keep you safe.”

“You’re dat confident I’ll take your offer?”

Violet sagged. How was she going to convince him to take her? But she couldn’t worry about that now.

Excited voices were upstairs. Violet opened the door as quietly as she could. When it creaked, her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. No one was in the kitchen, but she could hear excited voices.

“Did that come from inside the house?” Cook’s tired but startled voice was the closest.

Celeste stepped into the kitchen, wearing a white frilly robe, her black hair cascading down her back. She held a pistol in her hand. Violet was too terrified to move.

“Search the grounds,” Celeste ordered. “And the house.”

Violet shut the door and hurried down into the chambers. She gathered all of the planks and rope and moved them to the far corner of the room, along with the bucket of water, her bag, and the rags. Amadi stood on one leg, leaning against the wall. His face was taut, and his cheek twitched. He was obviously in pain.

He gritted his teeth. “What’s going on up there?”

She looked nervously behind her. “They’re searching the house.”

“Will they come down here?”

Her heart skipped a beat at his question and her lungs seized up. “I hope not.”

She grabbed Dubois’ ankles and dragged him.

SHFFF SHFFF SHFFF

But only an inch at a time.

She panted hard and her hair stuck to her hot face. Her strained arms and legs shook. Sharp pain shot through her back.

Upstairs, footsteps hurried across the floor, and she licked her dry lips, knowing the punishment she’d receive if caught.

SHFFFF

Finally, she crossed the cell door and dropped Dubois’ legs. She exhaled loudly and rubbed her aching arms.

He moaned again, this time louder.

She grabbed a piece of robe and one of the rags she’d planned to wash Amadi with and hurried back to her prisoner. Ignoring her cramped fingers, she bound his wrists and stuffed a rag into his mouth. He groaned, and his eyes fluttered open.

Amadi tilted his head. “Hit him again.”

“But—”

“Do it. Or we’ll both be caught.”

She winced at his harsh voice and fear squeezed her throat.

And for a moment, she glimpsed what he must have been like aboard the Phoenix. This was a man used to giving orders and expecting to be obeyed. Violet folded her fist and smacked Dubois across the head as hard as she could. Pain jolted through her arm, but Dubois fell silent.

The kitchen door opened, and Violet’s blood turned to mud. Not willing to give up, she hid underneath the rack and bit back her revulsion of the dust, filth, and spider webs. Soft footsteps scraped down the stairs.

“No one’s here, mistress,” Calvin said, one of Celeste’s henchmen. “Your bull is passed out.”

Dubois was stilled tied up and in the far corner of the cell. He hadn’t groaned for a while and Violet held her breath, praying he remained silent.

“I smell gunpowder down here,” Celeste argued.

Violet closed her eyes, afraid they’d hear the thumpty-thump-thumpty of her heart.

“If someone was down here, they’re gone.”

“Someone was trying to help my beau escape. Find them, and bring them to me.”

“If so, do you want to leave him here or move him?”

“Leave him. We’ll set a trap, oui? Set a guard upstairs.”

“Yes, Maîtresse.”

Footsteps hurried up the stairs, and the door shut. Violet waited and listened. She knew they were lying and waited on the stairs. She was grateful Amadi did not speak and Dubois didn’t wake.

Insects or spiders crawled over her, and she wanted to scream, but she clamped her jaw shut. She counted backward from a thousand to keep her sanity and not think about the two people listening on the stairs for the slightest sound.

Light flooded down the steps. A male voice asked, “Maîtresse?”

Violet wiped her sweaty hands on her dress. She was too scared to identify whose voice.

Heavy footsteps walked around. “No one’s here, Maîtresse,” Calvin said. “Your buck isn’t going anywhere. Whoever ’twas is gone.”

“Très bien. Double the guard.”

At Celeste’s sharp voice, Violet exhaled her breath that she didn’t even know she held.

“Yes, Maîtresse.” Calvin’s low tone had a tremor of fear.

The door closed. This time, they were alone. Adrenaline shot her out of her hiding underneath the rack. She slapped her arms and legs, trying to get the bugs and spiders off.

Amadi chuckled. “Such a pretty dance.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m surprised your standing. Most men would be unconscious or riddled with agony.”

He shrugged. “I’m not most men.”

Violet was strongly aware of her own heartbeat at his husky voice. Ignoring the fluttering in her chest, she quickly grabbed some rope and planks. “I know isn’t much, but I can brace the leg.”

She knelt and placed the planks on either side of his leg. When she tightened the planks with the rope, he released an angry gasp.

She winced. “I’m sorry.”

He wiped the sweat off his brow. “Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow night is da full moon.”

His smoldering eyes filled with a dark intensity, as if he actually caressed her with his direct gaze. They were alive with raw need.

“Why do you keep referring to the moon?” Her usually strong voice had turned into a weak whisper.

“Hopefully, you’ll never have to find out. Where do we go now?” He motioned with his hand. “She’s doubled da guard.”

She wanted to ask more questions about his obsession with the moon, but there wasn’t time. They had to leave before it was too late. “Celeste’s brother had a secret tunnel built here in case of a slave revolt.”

Amadi scowled. “He did?” Suspicion entered into his perceptive eyes. “How did you come to know of dis? Are you a witch?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not a witch. But sometimes I wish I was. I wouldn’t be living in this hell hole if I was.”

“Witches suffer da same fate as all of us.”

Sadness hung on his every word. Had he lost someone who was a witch?

She opened her mouth to say something, but he looked around. “Pray tell how you came to know of this tunnel?”

“I told you. Celeste can’t hide secrets from me. I know everything about her. Too much.”

She pushed back all of Celeste’s dark secrets. Her voodoo rituals. The animal sacrifices. The human sacrifices. Mostly of the slaves’ poor babes. She hated Celeste. But there was no time to dwell. They could be discovered any minute. Celeste might be evil, but she was no fool.

She walked to the south wall that didn’t have any chains dangling. “Baron Samedi.”

A white line shot up from the bottom of the floor and formed the outline of a door. The door slid open, and on the other side was a painted drawing of a skeletal man wearing a top hat, a black dinner jacket, and cotton plugs in his nostrils.

She motioned with hand. “Come on. We must hurry.”

Amadi limped toward her. “Why is Baron Samedi painted on da door?”

Even though he was wounded, he had an overpowering presence. His steps were strong and muscles rippled as he strained to move. “Celeste likes people, especially the slaves, to think she practices voodoo.”

He stopped. “She doesn’t?”

“No, she hides behind voodoo. She’s a Satanist.”

“Does she pray to any other gods?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Other gods? What other gods?”

He avoided her steady stare. “Nothin’.”

She studied his deep brown eyes then peered into his soul. Uneasiness seeped out of her chest, pushing against her ribs. His soul shifted from white to a muddy yellow. He hadn’t exactly lied, but he hadn’t told the truth, either. She clasped his arm. “You’re lying. You believe in other gods?”

“We need to get out of here.”

“Fine.” She dipped a torch into oil then rubbed two pieces of flint to generate a spark to light the torch. When it caught, she put it back into the iron holder then gathered her supplies and placed them in the tunnel.

Amadi limped across the floor, his legs wobbling. She shook her head. The stubborn man was about to collapse.

She hurried over. “Put your arm around me.”

“I’ll drop you to da floor.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m stronger than I look.”

He muttered under his breath, too low for her to hear, but he did as she asked. She groaned under his weight and was afraid he’d fall on her, but she braced her shoulders and shuffled across the floor until they reached the tunnel. Amadi put his hand on the wall and walked-hopped into the tunnel.

Violet breathed deeply and wiped the sweat off her forehead. She stepped inside. “Baron Samedi.”

The stone door slid across the floor and shut.

Breathless, Amadi slumped against the wall. “I need to rest.”

She dug into her black bag and pulled out the pair of trousers that she’d stolen from Celeste’s room. She handed them to Amadi. “Here. I thought you might like to get dressed.”

He took them and examined them. The trousers would obviously be too small, but hopefully, he’d be able to get into them.

“Where did you get these?” He lifted an eyebrow as if he thought she’d gotten them from a former lover.

Heat swelled over her cheeks and she avoided his gaze. “From Celeste. I don’t know if you know this, but—” she lowered her voice, even though they were behind a stone wall and door “—she murders her husbands.”

“One of da men on da cart told me she murdered her husband. She’s murdered more dan one?”

She held up three fingers.

“Why keep da clothes?”

She rubbed her nose and swallowed back the revulsion rising up her throat. “She likes to keep trophies.”

“Is it just clothes she keeps?”

“No.” The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She closed her eyes. “She keeps their tongues in mason jars. Their tongues remind her of their last gasps.”

He bent over and put one long leg into the trousers. She couldn’t help but admire his firm buttock. The man was a sleek, chocolate statue, and a wicked image of licking every inch of him made her glance away in shame. What if he guessed what she was thinking? She was acting as lecherous as Celeste.

He finally managed to squeeze into them. They fit him like a snakeskin, and she kept her hands to her sides to keep from giving into an urge and running her hands over pure muscle.

“How does she kill them?”

She pulled her gaze away and rubbed her arms that had broken out in gooseflesh. “Poison. Arsenic. She’s the most vile person I’ve ever met.”

“There are worse things dan a murdering Satanist.”

“Like what?”

“Demons.”

She put her hand over her thumping heart. “You’ve seen them?”

Amadi edged back down onto the ground. Violet hurried over to keep from falling forward. She sat next to him. When he stuck out his long legs, her legs were half the length of his.

His eyes fluttered shut. “Aye. They’d carve Celeste into tiny pieces just for fun.”

“Did you see them when you were aboard the Soaring Phoenix?”

“Aye.” He leaned his head backward. “Haven’t you guessed what I am?”

“A pirate.”

He slumped across her, pinning her against the wall. “Dat’s all I wished I was.”

“Amadi?”

Soft snores answered her. Violet bit her lips. She’d read his soul. Pure white. He was telling the truth. She hugged her arms tight around her body. What did he mean he wished was just a pirate? What else was he? She glanced at the stone door, wondering if she should leave, but with his body lying across her like a marble slab, she was trapped.

He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, with his exotic braids and dark skin. Tears welled in her eyes at the lashes criss-crossing his back. She hadn’t time to wipe them clean. Dried blood stuck to his skin. Luckily, her bag was near, and she reached in for a rag to gently dab his bruised and bloody back. How could Celeste mar his body? His back was magnificent with the sinews.

Her eyes widened. He had teeth marks on his lower back. Damn Celeste! Her vileness knew no limits. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice croaked.

She cleaned his back the best she could and gave into temptation to run her hands through his soft hair. Gold beads were intertwined in his braids. Celeste either hadn’t notice the gold or she liked the wildness. Violet wished she could see him aboard the Soaring Phoenix. Callouses covered his large hands. He was used to hard labor. There was no way he was a mere sailor. Was he the boatswain, the master gunner, the quartermaster? He definitely was in a position of leadership, maybe not the captain, but he was a born leader.

She mulled over what he’d said. He wished he was just a pirate. Did his evasiveness have anything to do with demons? When he awoke, she’d demand answers. And she’d know if he was lying.

Chapter 9

Amadi woke to looking at shadows flickering over a lichen-covered cave. He smelled mildew and wet dirt. He couldn’t remember how he got here with the dizziness clouding his brain. Something soft cradled his head and back, and it smelled like cotton. Why wasn’t he lying on the hard, rocky ground?

He moved, and a low moan caught his attention. Mercy’s sake, he’d been lying on Violet’s legs. He must have crushed her. He quickly pushed into a sitting position. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Her brows knotted as she massaged her legs. “Because you were exhausted.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and yawned. “How long was I asleep?”

“A couple of hours.”

He crawled behind her and kneaded her bunched-up shoulders.

She jumped. “What are you doing?” There was a wary yelp in her voice; she didn’t trust easily.

“Relax. You look like you’re in pain.”

She circled her shoulders and twisted her neck, edging away. “I’ll be fine.”

He heard the edginess cut into her voice. “Meanin’?”

She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I disappointed Celeste last night.” The sharpness fled her voice, and she sounded very, very defeated.

He raised his eyebrow.

“We went to Harold’s gambling house. I didn’t help her win.”

“How do you help her win?”

“She has signals.” She lowered her head. “I twirl my hair if they are bluffing, rub my nose if they have a winning hand, and I fold my arms over my chest if they have a losing hand.” Shame seeped into her tiny voice.

He lifted her chin, surprised at the wetness on her cheeks. “How much did she lose?”

“Three hundred pounds.”

He whistled and released her. “Dat’s a bundle.”

Violet shrugged. “She deserved it.”

“Why?”

Her cheeks reddened. “We should get moving.”

He clasped her shaking arm. “Why did you want her to lose? Surely, you knew she would hurt you.”

“I didn’t care. ’Tis not like she hasn’t done it before.”

He scanned her luscious body for any sign of pain. “What did she do to you?”

She avoided his gaze. “She didn’t hurt me as bad as she did you. It’s my fault she hurt you. I wish I could lie. Telling the truth only hurts people.” Her voice shook and he felt a tear splash onto his hand.

He pushed her silky hair out of her troubled face. “Dat’s not true, little one. Da truth will set us free. Only lies and deceit bind us to evil.” He trailed his fingers down her soft cheek.

“That has not been my experience.” She turned away then struggled to stand.

“Here.” He reached to help her, but pain seized his back. He winced, cursing his weakness.

Concern flashed into her tired eyes. “Let me help you.”

He ignored her outstretched hand. He was the gun master aboard the Soaring Phoenix, not a helpless laggard. He’d been wounded before and didn’t need a nursemaid. He struggled to stand, but his wobbly legs betrayed him, and he fell on his arse.

She rolled her eyes. “Quit being stubborn and let me help you.”

He winced at the anger in her voice.

He flipped his gaze over her body that glistened with sweat. “You’re hurt.” How could she brace him? He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds.

“I’m stronger than I look. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve worked hard all my life.”

“Meanin’?”

“In London, I worked long hours at the bakery, kneading bread, baking, cleaning the place, waiting on people. Before that, I waited tables in a tavern. I did what I must to stay off the streets. Satisfied?” She knelt and put his arm around her neck.

Pain streaked through his back and he hissed. She looked at him questioningly as she helped him stand. He gritted his teeth. Blood soared through his body too fast and heat pushed up against his skin, making his pants stick to him like tar. He braced himself to keep from falling again. He tilted his head at the closed door. “Won’t they come in here?”

“Not for a while. Celeste will search the ground and slaves’ quarters first.”

Dread slammed into his gut. “Chloe and da other slaves—won’t she punish them?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He clenched his fists. “Son of whore. ’Tis my fault.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself. She looks for the tiniest reasons to punish.” Her kind words spoken in a soothing voice did nothing to ease his guilt pulsing through him.

He rubbed his eyebrow. “How long do you think it will take for her to discover we’re both missin’?”

She circled her arm around his waist. “Lean against me. We need to move. I’m afraid we don’t have much time.”

He hesitated, afraid he’d crush her. “You’re hurt.”

“So are you. If we go slow, we can move.”

She snagged her bag and stuffed her rags and blanket inside. She threw the water onto the wall and droplets sprayed. “Hopefully, they’ll just think someone left a pail. Celeste wouldn’t remember if there were a bucket left with the tools.”

Hammers, saws, and picks were discarded on the ground.

Violet grabbed a hammer, put it in her bag, and slipped the bag over her shoulder. “Might come in handy.” She lifted the torch and put her other arm around his waist.

“I don’t need any help.” He put his hand on the rocky wall and hobbled down the dark tunnel. The rocky ground jolted his knee, and he winced. Damn it! Sharp pain repeatedly stabbed his bare feet. Breathing hard, he clamped his jaw tight.

He rubbed his sweaty face on his forearm. Each step robbed him of his breath. Everything hurt––his feet, his legs, his back. To push back the growing agony, he watched the sway of Violet’s hips and wondered what it would be like to glide his hand up her creamy thigh. He scowled at the turn of his thoughts. Slaves had lost more than their heads for even admiring a white woman, and he was doing more than admiring.

He stumbled and fell.

She rushed over to him. “Your stiff pride is going to delay us. Are you so ready to be taken back to the Sorcière de Mer?”

He glared. “Aye, you’re a stubborn wench.”

She helped him to his feet. Despite his reluctance, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. He tried to bear most of the weight, but each time they took a step, pain throbbed in his back. He gasped for breath. Her scent of vanilla teased him. It was warm and comforting, blocking out his agony.

As they moved down the tunnel, he realized how different she was to William’s Mariah and the Cap’n’s Hannah. Both Mariah and Hannah had lived privileged lives—Mariah had been spoiled by her grandparents, and Hannah had been a wealthy captain’s daughter. But not his Violet. She’d had to work to survive. He stopped. When had she become his Violet?

She looked up. “Is something wrong? Do you need to rest?”

He liked hearing the worry in her voice. “No, I’m fine.”

He admired her strong muscles. Her hands weren’t soft and gentle like Hannah’s and Mariah’s, but calloused and cracked like his own. She was used to hard labor. Her strength impressed him. He’d never wanted a pampered woman. They were too much work, too selfish. He never thought they’d understand what he’d been through, but Violet, she was different. She’d experience the same pain, the same fear, the same humiliation.

Sundown was only a few hours away, and the bloodlust would be upon him. He had to get away from her or he’d attack his pretty little nurse. “Should have woken me.”

“This tunnel breaks off in three different directions. One ends at the sea, one ends—”

“We’ll go to da sea.”

She lifted her slender eyebrow. “Don’t you want to know where the two other end?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I need to get back to my ship.”

Eagerness flashed in her eyes. “How do you know your ship will be there? They could be out to sea by now.”

“Because I know da cap’n.”

“Then you’ll leave.” Sadness ladened her low voice.

“Aye, but I’ll be back—with reinforcements. I want to pay a visit to da Maîtresse.” He could hardly wait to see Celeste’s face when William burned her precious plantation to the ground. Before she lost everything, he’d make sure she was alive.

She bit her lower lip. “And do what?”

“Burn dis hell hole to da ground.”

“But what about—”

“Da Soaring Phoenix is a frigate. We’ll take da people to an island where they can live in peace and without persecution.”

“How do you know your captain will do this?”

He laughed. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, poppet.”

“Celeste has powerful friends and—”

Dampness filled the air, and he shivered. Their shadows danced on the wall. Gnarled tree roots and spider webs hung from the ceilings. He motioned with his hand. “Which way?”

“Do you need to rest?”

He stiffened. His back was killing him, but he’d crawl if he had to. “No. Do you?”

“Maybe for a minute.” Violet put the torch in an empty iron sconce. She leaned against the wall. Closing her eyes, she slid down onto the ground. “I guess I do need to rest.”

Her face was pale and her breath labored. How could he be so selfish? If he hadn’t been so beaten, he’d lift her into his arms.

He sat next to her. Her chest slowly rose. The poor lass. “I told you I was too heavy,” he mumbled under his breath. He fully expected her to argue, but she was quiet. She was asleep.

She slowly fell toward him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and cushioned her against his frame. She fit snuggly next to him. It had been so long since he’d held a woman so close without being pawed. Whores would be all over him, smelling of cheap perfume. He caressed her arm and relaxed. This was comfortable, very comfortable.

The flames flickered and cast shadows on the wall. He couldn’t see what was down the long tunnel. He strained to hear if anyone followed them. But all he could hear was Violet’s slow breathing. He could get used to this.

Violet woke suddenly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to doze.”

“You needed to rest.” He smiled. “I’m heavier than you thought.”

“We should get going.”

“So soon? I like dis.”

Her cheeks turned as red as her hair. “Oh.”

Ignoring the agony in his back, he pulled on his strength and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. It slid neatly into his palm.

“Thank you.” She fixed her hair.

“Don’t. I like it dis way.”

“I’m a mess.”

“No, you’re beautiful. Strong.”

His heart thundering faster and faster, he tilted his head to capture her lips. What was he doing? They were from two different worlds, forbidden worlds. He waited for her to pull away in horror.

But she surprised him and parted her lips. He slanted his mouth over hers, more forcefully then he intended. He half expected her to slap him, but she held onto his arms. He ran his tongue across the velvety smoothness. She muffled a soft cry, and he dipped his tongue deeper. He wanted to possess her, to brand her.

This wasn’t the time or place, but he didn’t care. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman like he did Violet. She leaned her body against his. He carefully wrapped his arm around her waist, hoping not to hurt her, letting her know how her touch, the scent of her hair and skin, sent desire pulsing through him.

Yet none of those things drove him to the edge of ravishing her as the honey warmth of her mouth did. He had not anticipated anything half as arousing or seductive as the sound of her tiny, strangled moans, each time he swirled his tongue. He had not expected himself to nearly explode like an inexperience virgin as he kissed her smooth and silky neck. He imagined other more intimate female places, hot and wet, begging to be worshiped. Were her feminine curls as red as her hair?

Saint’s blood, what was wrong with him? His heart beat faster and faster as raw desire ruled him. He’d never been so tempted to break the cap’n’s law and take a woman. But the way Violet returned his kiss and clung to him—would it be against her will?

He moved his hand down her back and held her tight.

She stiffened and arched her back, crying out in pain.

Damn he was a selfish bastard! He immediately released her. “I’m sorry.” He tried to make his hard voice sound normal and hide the passion brewing inside him.

Her face had turned gray. “It will pass.”

He winced at her rumpled hair.

She panted and swayed.

“Come here, tempting flower.” He clasped her hand and pulled her toward him. “Let me help you.”

He took the torch and held Violet close, careful not to give into his lust and hurt her again. Blood pumped through him, desire drumming between his temples. Devil’s blood, this was killing him. They made their way down the long tunnel. The air turned mustier, damper. Were they getting closer to the ocean?

A rat darted out in front of him. He hissed. The torch shook erratically. His heart skipped two beats, and he curled his toes.

Violet looked up, her lips curled into a teasing smile. “Afraid of rats?”

Once when he’d disobeyed Jacques D’Aubigne, the bastard had staked him to the ground and doused him with goat’s blood. Rats had crawled all over him and bit him. He was damn lucky he’d hadn’t caught a disease or lost an eye. “I don’t like rats. Why? You do?”

She rested her head against his chest. “I’d prefer the rats than some of the company I’ve endured while living at the Sorcière de Mer.”

“I bet.” Trying to ignore the weariness beating down him, he asked, “How long have you been here?”

“Two years. Two years too long.” She sighed. “You’re not the only one who has spent time down here.”

Amadi’s gut clenched. He stared down at her head. What had Celeste done to the sweet rose? The horrors in the dungeon had been legendary. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep apologizing.” She stopped. “You don’t look like you’re used to apologizing.”

“No, I am not. Being a slave strips away a man’s dignity.” Anger surged through him. The horrors of men tortured, families torn apart, screams of women and children poured into his mind, images he wanted to bury. Bitterness burned in his heart. “No man deserves to be treated like anything less dan a man.”

Chapter 10

Amadi held Violet close as they walked down the damp tunnel. His throat was parched, and he licked his lips. Tonight was the full moon and sunset wasn’t far away. Soon, he’d be hungry, hungry for blood. “Are we almost there?”

Violet shook her head. “No. ’Tis another hour.”

Not good. Not good at all. He forced himself to move, but each step was becoming harder and harder. His strength was leaving him—his legs dragged, his arms hung loose, his head drooped—and worse, he could feel the sun setting. Even in the tunnel hidden from the sun, the blood lust consumed him. His incisors lengthened, his throat turned to dust and he couldn’t muster any spit in his mouth. His gut shriveled and grumbled.

He winced. “How…much…further?”

She cast him a glassy stare and stepped away. “We have at least another two miles to go. I think we need to move faster. I feel better now.”

Coldness flooded his side where her warm body had nestled close. He wanted to pull her gently back, but he didn’t trust himself.

She clasped his hand and squeezed. “We’re not making very good time. We’ve got to quicken our pace.”

His shoulders slumped. “’Tis sundown. Violet, you must flee.” His strained voice could barely get the words out.

“What? You’re not—” The torch brightened her pale skin, but instead of her teasing smile and bright, brown eyes, a look of horror plastered across her face. “Your eyes—”

Her voice trailed off into a dead whisper. She yanked her hand out of his and put it to her throat.

He didn’t have time to be gentle with her. She was in danger, danger from him. “I’m a vampire.” He said “vampire” too loud and immediately regretted it.

She stepped back and covered her mouth. Her eyes darted back in forth with fright. “Are you going to kill me?” She put her hand on her throat. “Is that why you want me to run?”

He winced. “I’m starving and need blood. But da cap’n taught us how to consume blood without killing our hosts. I don’t kill when I feed.”

’Twas partly true. He hadn’t killed anyone for a long time. But that was because there was usually more than one host to feed on. The cap’n would dock in a heavily populated port since the curse was never satisfied with one feeding. He needed at least three or four hosts to please the hunger. But there was only Violet.

She edged further away, leaving him in the dark. “That’s not true…there are rumors of the Fiery Damsel.”

“They’re fiends. Our sworn enemy. Push away your fear and look at me, Violet. Am I tellin’ da truth?”

She stopped moving and glanced over her shoulder as if deciding whether to run down the tunnel and abandon him. He held his breath, waiting to see if she’d run or face her fear. She was a strong woman and had survived on a contemptible plantation. He watched her struggle—brows knotting, eyes intense—trying to control her fear. She squared her shoulders and stared. He broke out in a cold sweat as she studied him, wanting her to look into his soul to know he wasn’t a monster.

Her gaze lost the darting edge, and her lips softened. “You’re not lying. You don’t kill your victims. How can this be?”

“We only change into vampires during the full moon. Cap’n taught us to stop feeding before da host’s heart slows.”

She came into the light. Her color had returned, and her cheeks were rosy. “He’s a vampire, too?” Her voice had lost the fearful edge, but her eyes screamed “liar.”

“Aye, he is.” Amadi met her accusatory stare. “He granted me my freedom and treats me as an equal. Something I will never forget.”

“How do you feel about him?”

“I’d die for him.”

“’Tis not very often I see such loyalty.”

“Do you have family?”

“No, both my parents are dead. I’ve no one.”

Her loneliness tugged at his heart strings. “I’m sorry.”

She hugged her body tight. “But the Fiery Damsel—”

“Da cap’n and his crew wanted more power and went back to da demon Zuto’s island to drink from da cursed lake until they no longer had to wait for da full moon to transform.”

Confusion flared in his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“We came upon an uncharted island. We were dying from thirst, and da tallest man I’d ever seen led us to a crystal lake. Da water was so clear and fresh, sweeter than any water I’d ever had. ’Twas only later we discovered da lake was cursed. It wasn’t a man at all.”

“He was a demon? How come you couldn’t tell?” There was something in her voice, something doubtful, something dreadful.

All she needed was to have a white wig and a black robe and she’d make an excellent solicitor, ready to put him in Newgate. “He didn’t have horns, if dat’s what you mean. He told us dat we’d change into vampires durin’ da full moon. If we wanted to break da curse, we had to bring a captain and his daughter to him. Or be cursed forever.”

“Did you?”

“No. Cap’n fell in love with da woman, and we put up with her father. Before he was a pompous ass, but he’s less of a sniveller now.”

“You don’t like him?”

“He left three men infected with smallpox on an uncharted island and nearly wiping out da Native population without da slightest hint of remorse. He did not consider them to be equals and didn’t care if they died.”

“The same way you were treated as a slave.”

Her soft voice took some of the anger out of his sails. He cleared his throat. “And you.”

“True. What happens if you don’t feed?”

He sighed. No use lying. She’d know. “I will not be able to eat or drink until I consume human blood. I’ll become a walkin’ corpse.”

“Without blood, you won’t be able to walk the rest of the way, will you?”

Amadi leaned against the wall. His throat was parched, and he couldn’t swallow. ’Twas like having sand stuffed down his gullet. “No, I won’t. Da hunger is growing stronger, and I’m afraid I’ll be so starved, I’ll be a danger.”

“Despite the cap’n’s teachings?”

“Aye.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt?”

She rubbed her neck. “When you bite someone, are they in pain?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because they will find us both if you can’t walk.”

“Violet—”

“I’m the only one here, and you need blood. I don’t want Celeste to find me. I’ve been waiting for a chance to escape, to find someone strong enough to resist her.”

“Is dat what I am to you? A means to escape?” He couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice. He was tired. Damn tired. And so damn thirsty. He could smell the blood pumping through her veins—warm, tantalizing—and fought hard to maintain control.

She put her bag down on the floor and stuck the flickering torch into a nearby hook. “You don’t play fair. If I lie, then you’d know.”

“I wouldn’t—”

When she sauntered up to him and put her hands on his chest and leaned her body against him, he stopped mid-sentence. His heart thundered, and he was one step away from satisfying the hunger pulsing through him. And the lust, Lord, the lust was killing him.

“You’re more than an escape, Amadi. Much more.”

Her husky voice melted his hard shell. He was actually trembling. Amadi—the most feared member of the Soaring Phoenix—was intimidated by this slip of a girl. “Violet, I can’t hold on much longer.”

“You promise you won’t hurt me?”

Her trusting voice tore at his honor. “Aye, why would you ask such a thing?”

She flicked hair back, exposing her slender neck. “I want you to feed on me.”

“I can’t.”

She stepped close and put her hands on his bare chest. She flashed him a mischievous smile then kissed and licked his skin.

Her warm tongue sent desire flooding through him. “Why did you do that?” He barely got the words out, he was breathing so hard; his body was painfully thick with need. He couldn’t take his eyes off the blood pumping through her veins.

“Because I wanted to taste a warrior.” She pressed more slow, gentle kisses.

He ran his fingers through her silky hair. “Ah, Violet. You’re temptin’ me.”

“I want to do more than tempt you.” She slightly tilted her head. “Now, become the warrior I know you are. Take what you need.”

He wanted to sink his fangs into her sweet flesh. Would she taste like honey or salt? He hated himself for not being a protector and gave into his desire. “Not like this.” With his resolve failing, he lowered her to the ground. “Are you sure?”

Fear flickered in her face for a minute, but grim determination and what looked like passion flared in her brown eyes. “Yes.” Her voice was low, and he could feel her trembling.

“It will only hurt for a minute,” he said. “I can make you forget.”

“I don’t want to forget.”

Her desire jumbled his insides. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Why?”

“Because I want to remember everything about you. If we get separated, these memories will help me survive.”

He tensed, knowing what could happen to his little nurse. “I won’t leave you. I promise you.”

She laced her fingers in his braids. “Kiss me first.”

“With pleasure, my lady.”

Ignoring the hunger crawling up his throat, Amadi lowered his head and slowly captured her mouth. He massaged her breast then squeezed her nipple, eliciting a feminine whimper. When his tongue played with hers, he indulged in her sweet taste of vanilla. ’Twas like eating a fresh-baked scone. She kissed him hard as if she were afraid, this would be their last kiss. He took command and gave her what she wanted. A kiss of a warrior—hard, demanding, devouring.

She ran her fingers gently down his back, sending tremors of passion through him. The curse roared to be satisfied. He left her hungry mouth and flicked his tongue over her neck, lapping up her satin skin. Her blood called to him, but he dominated the hunger with his will, compelling it to wait as he kissed her neck, discovering what brought her the tiniest pleasure. His incisors teased her pulse, scraping back and forth, nibbling, caressing, but then his thirst intensified, and he could no longer deny it.

He pulled away and hesitated in kissing her. Her hair was a tumble of lustrous waves reflecting the torchlight—softer, thicker, more plush than he expected. Her dress pulled tight and her bosoms peaked. If her bodice moved, he swore her budded nipples would escape. He’d never seen a white woman’s naked breast, and he fought the urge to not yank her bodice down to satisfy his lust. The thought of slipping those proud peaks into his mouth and suckling them until Violet uttered soft whimpers of pleasure brought a flash of sweat across his brow.

“I shouldn’t be doin’ dis. Slaves have been burned alive for ravishin’ white women.”

She pressed herself against him. “You’re not a slave.” She kissed his chest, and she peered up at him. There was a recklessness in her eyes, daring him to sample what she was offering—a softer glint of shyness, of hesitancy, of vulnerability that slowly ripped away his resolve. “You’re a man. And I’m a woman who wants you desperately.”

‘Damn it! We need to stop. ’Tis not right.” His voice shook, but it wasn’t just his voice. His whole body had turned into a quivering codfish. But then so had hers.

“I’m not afraid.”

“Are you sure?” He battled to not indulge, to keep his honor, but each time she moved, his resolve weakened. “You’d best get da hell out of here…and you don’t have much time. Da blood lust is getting stronger.”

Chapter 11

Violet held onto Amadi’s thick shoulders. He kissed her; his tongue was hot velvet. When she rolled her tongue, she glided over his sharp incisors and tensed.

“I promise not to hurt you,” he said. He stared down at her with half-hooded eyes that were filled with hunger. She wasn’t sure the hunger lusted for blood or for something else.

Strength blanketed her, and in his arms, her fear and loneliness disappeared. “’Tis been so long since I’ve felt protected.”

“Never doubt I will keep you safe.”

She smiled. “No one has ever wanted to keep me safe. Until now.”

He caressed her cheek before he kissed her again. “Trust-me” flickered in his eyes. Even if ’twas an illusion. He was a warrior, and he wanted freedom, but that didn’t mean it included her.

But for now, he was real, and his masculine scent of the salty sea clung to her. ’Twas as if he was kissing her on the Soaring Phoenix. A seduction, an intimacy she’d craved since she’d been trapped in this miserable place. In her entire life, she’d never responded so sexually to a man.

Amadi’s kiss made her want to be his captive, forever his prisoner. As his lips left hers and gently licked and nibbled her neck, she was swept into a summer breeze of pure feeling, it grew stronger, turning into a whirlwind. Her body burned for his kiss, his touch. He kneaded her breast, and she had the urge to crawl out of her clothes to feel his callous fingers on her naked skin. Was this because he was a vampire or due to the man himself?

As if to answer her wish, he lowered her to the floor, then he gently pushed down her bodice. Cold air washed over her naked breasts. She shuddered.

Amadi licked his lips. “My God. I’ve never seen such perfection.”

Heat rushed from Violet’s cheeks to her toes, and her throat tightened. She didn’t know what to say. No man had looked at her with admiration like Amadi did.

But the freezing air vanished when his hot mouth captured her nipple. She cradled his head. His braids caressed her burning skin, sending waves of tingles through her nerves. He sucked harder and harder. Desire pulsed through her veins like a raging flood until cream pooled at her inner core.

He bunched her dress up and slipped his hand over her thighs. Her heart pounded harder and harder. She didn’t know if she’d survive the feelings whirling inside her.

Amadi stroked her core with his fingers.

“Amadi!” She cried out, arching her back.

He paused. “We should stop.”

“No, Don’t stop,” she panted. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I’ll do anything to make you shine.” He dragged his finger down her nose. “I want to erase your pain and give you something else to remember.” Wickedness flickered in his mischievous eyes.

Streams of unnamed feelings spread through her. It was as if she was a smoldering fire, slowly being stroked to a crackling blaze.

Amadi slipped a finger inside her and built a delightful pressure until she’d succumb to a glowing pleasure of pure joy. He planted hot kisses up to her throat, swirling his tongue on her neck. She tensed, waiting for the pain she knew was coming. His teeth scraped her neck, and slow pressure built against her, followed by a sharp pain. When he sucked on her neck, white-hot fire sizzled through her veins, her body rippling with pleasure, with a need so intense she cried out in ecstasy.

He immediately ceased. “Violet, did I hurt you?”

“No,” she whispered. She could see his long thick eyelashes, his luscious lips. “No, I want this. I need this.” The wild beat of her heart matched his. She tentatively reached out her hands and touched his hard stomach.

He sucked in his breath.

She hid her smile at making this hardened pirate gasp. When her hands didn’t burst into flames, she grew bolder. She skimmed her fingertips over his ebony skin, then sliding upward, brushed her thumbs over his erect nipples.

He tilted his head back. “Lass, you’re playing with fire.” His voice was strained, and his face tensed, a warrior battling to hold onto restraint.

“I want to get burned,” she purred.

She slid her hands slowly over the crease of his elbow then higher onto the solid bulge of hard arms. She tried to wrap her hands around his arm, but her hands were too small. She dug her nails into the hard muscle, reveling in this pleasure that she’d been denied for so long. “Please.”

He cupped her chin, his fingers caressing her skin. “Please what?”

“Kiss me. Take what you need.”

Amadi didn’t deny her. His mouth fastened to hers, and the world rocked. Altered. Stalled. She melted. The kiss deepened into fiery heat. ’Twas affectionate, hot, and relentless, all at the same time. Violet exploded into a sizzling fever of lust, her budded nipples pushing against his skin. She liked the smoothness. She wanted more than a kiss, wanted to feel him inside her.

Her fluttering stomach tumbled into a whirlwind of emotions, and her sensitive skin tingled each time he kissed or caressed her. He was fire to her ice. His smooth touch melted away the tension bunched in her tense muscles. He broke off from her hungry lips and bit her neck. Lightning desire shot through her, and she trembled, not out of fear but with desire.

She held his head to her neck, not understanding why this was so sizzling. She couldn’t breathe. Her strength diminished in her arms then they turned flaccid and dropped to her sides. Was he killing her with pleasure?

“Amadi,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure she’d spoken, her voice was so soft. “Please don’t kill me.”

He jerked his head away from her neck, and she froze at the blood dripping down his chin, his eyes blazing red. “Never. I’m sorry. I took too much.”

She couldn’t keep her eyes open, and her muscles refused to obey. A noise drew her attention down the dark tunnel. A light moved, and shadows fell on the wall. They were caught. She’d be punished severely. Tortured. She couldn’t live like this anymore. ’Twas too terrible.

And Amadi, God what Celeste would do to him. “I don’t want to live if I have to return to the Sorcière de Mer. Kill me,” she said.

“No.” His answer was final.

She was surprised he lifted her into his arms and cradled her against his broad chest. His heart beat loud and strong while hers had slowed. Was she dying? “You can’t carry me.”

When he laughed, she thought she’d imagined it.

He nuzzled her against her throat. “You know nothing of vampires.” His deep rumbling voice left her with questions, but before she could ask what he meant, oblivion blanketed her, and she remembered no more.

Chapter 12

Amadi snatched Violet’s black bag lying next to her on the cave’s rugged ground then he blew out the torch. Thanks to his vampire eyes, he could see through the darkness. He wiped the sweat dripping off his forehead. His torn thigh and calf muscles twisted and melded together as if someone had taken a needle and sewed them together. He was mending, thanks to Violet. Each time, he took a step a dull pain throbbed in his knee, but at least he could walk.

Pain sliced into his bare feet. He winced. “Holy Hell.” Rocks had cut into his flesh. Smeared blood left a trail of breadcrumbs for the bastards to follow, but he didn’t have time to bind his feet.

He took a deep pained breath and closed his eyes. Why had he taken so much of Violet’s sweet blood? He’d lost control. But it wasn’t just the blood that had fired him. ’Twas her sweet taste of vanilla, her silky skin, her determination to survive.

The thought of her wish for him to kill her, tensed his muscles, and misery tightened his thick throat. He held her close and whispered into her ear. “You’re a brave woman. I promise to not let Celeste break you.”

She weighed almost nothing in his arms. . He looked behind him and sucked in his breath. His heart beat against his ribs. A glowing dim light moved closer and closer.

He picked up his pace and ignored the spasms in his knee, trying to stay ahead of the pursuing light. His raspy breath echoed off the walls and he winced. He stopped at three tunnels. Damn it! Why hadn’t he asked her where the other tunnels lead to?

He sniffed and inhaled dirt and dampness. “Da Devil! Violet, which one leads to da sea?”

But her answer was a soft snore.

Voices grew louder. Dubois’s nasal voice rose higher than the others. “Hurry, you fools. I don’t want to lose those two ingrates. They’ve been more trouble than their worth.” Dubois’ voice sent chills down the back of Amadi’s back.

Amadi’s beating heart rumbled and blood drummed between his temples. His trembling body begged for rest, but he couldn’t. Freedom was too close. Drawing on his vampire power, he forced his shaky legs to move.

Hoping he made the right decision of choosing the tunnel that lead to the sea, he barreled straight ahead. His knee gave away and he collapsed. Sharp pain stabbed his knee. He struggled to breathe. Cold air froze the sweat on his back, and he shivered. Pushing his shoulders back, he held Violet tighter and forced himself to stand on his wobbly legs.

The posse would have to split up to follow him. If it wasn’t for Violet, he could change into a bat and fly through the cave without fear. She moaned in his arms, and he held her close. She was his. He wouldn’t leave her.

He sagged against the damp wall and sucked down air. He forced himself to move and his quivering muscles relaxed. The middle tunnel’s ground went from rocks and pebbles to smooth dirt. He could take a step without tearing his feet to shreds. For once, something went right, but his feet pulsed with pain, even with the easier path. He needed more blood. If he could get one of his pursuers alone, he’d feast on him, but there was no place to hide.

Voices were closer, much too close. Drawing on every ounce of remaining strength, he quickened his pace, ignoring the agony in his feet and knee.

“More blood!” Someone shouted. “They’ve taken the middle tunnel.”

“The Maîtresse said to take the buck alive.” Dubois’ dreaded voice made Amadi’s gut clench.

“What about Violet?”

“She said Violet was mine to punish.” Dubois’s tone frothed with lechery.

Amadi gritted his teeth. He’d drain the bastard dry if he tried to harm his little nurse. Suddenly, the tunnel ended. What if he couldn’t open the damn door? Baron Samedi was on the door. But he was painted differently. Rather than a smile, he’d had a deep frown and his clothes were torn and moldy.

Amadi took a deep breath and braced his legs apart. “Baron Samedi.”

The air got thinner and the walls pressed against him. He held his shoulders tight to try and still the spasms of panic shooting through him.

Nothing happened. Down the tunnel, the light grew brighter, and an army of shadows moved along the wall.

An arrow of fear shot through Amadi, stopping his heart and lungs. He drew on his vampire power, but only a slight tingle brushed down the back of his neck. He was drained. God, they were trapped. He’d picked the wrong damn tunnel.

He laid Violet on the hard ground and pushed on the stone door. He rammed his shoulder, pushing harder and harder. Sweat drenched his shaking body, but only got an explosion of pain for his trouble. He rested and put his hands on his knees gulping for breath.

He wouldn’t give up. He gritted his teeth and glared at Baron Samedi. He put his head down and plowed against the stubborn door. Using every bit of every he possessed, he pushed and pounded. His muscles strained and sweat stung his eyes, but even with his vampire strength, he couldn’t budge it.

He stumbled back and dropped his shaking arms. He scrubbed the sweat off his face with his shaking hand. He didn’t have a choice but to turn around to fight. He peeled back his lips to scare his pursuers and went into a lunge pose.

“Amadi.”

He glanced down at Violet. She leaned against the cave wall, gasping for breath. Her face was so pale, she looked like she was fighting to stay awake. “Go.” Her voice was so low that if he hadn’t been a vampire, he wouldn’t of heard it.

He shook his head. “Da door won’t open. I said Baron Samedi.”

She closed her eyes. “That’s not Baron Samedi. It’s Baron-Cimetiere. We’re at St. Kitt’s graveyard.”

“Holy hell.” A large hole burned in his gut. What had he done? He rubbed his forehead, wishing for the nine thousandth time, he was back on the Soaring Phoenix.

Violet lifted her palm, facing the painted wall. She reminded him of how Hannah used her powers, her palms facing what object she wanted to move. He stood still.

“Baron-Cimetiere.” Her voice was louder this time.

The same white line formed into a door around the figure. The door creaked open. Lightning crashed outside and lit up the entrance of the cave. Sweet rain pelted onto Amadi and the glimpse of freedom sent adrenaline pulsing through him.

“Look! The cemetery door is open!”

“I see them!”

Dubois drew his sword. “Seize them, idiots.”

“I can’t outrun them, Amadi,” she panted—each word was labored and weak.

Raw determination thundered through Amadi renewing his tired muscles. Taking a deep breaths, Amadi cracked his neck.

Footsteps ran toward them. Dubois and three other men hurried and fired their pistols.

Violet motioned with her limp hand. “You better—”

More pistols fired. Sulfur exploded around them. Suddenly, Violet screamed and fell, clasping her arm.

Amadi’s heart shattered. He grabbed her before she hit the ground and whisked her out of the tunnel. He stepped out and used his body to shield her as he raced, his legs pumping faster and faster, through the graveyard. Luckily, he didn’t sense any beating hearts. He turned around, and his eyes widened. He’d just exited a mausoleum.

The moon had dipped lower and cast a white light onto the many headstones. Dawn wasn’t too far away. His pace slowed and his muscles throbbed. Black dots danced in his front of his eyes. His vampire strength was slipping away.

He needed to hide before he collapsed on the ground. He stumbled toward another mausoleum, twice as big as the last one. The walls crumpled, and the angel in front of it had a broken wing. Panting and shivering, Amadi hid behind the building. An iron door hung crooked, and weeds grew around the base of the mausoleum. Cracked and chipped sad angels stood guard. He couldn’t read the name because most of the letters had faded.

Violet moaned. Her face was paler than the moon. Her blood had smeared onto Amadi’s chest. Fear spurred through him like a hurricane. He needed to see to her arm before she bled to death.

“Spread out, men.” Dubois’ snarling voice sent Amadi’s heart plummeting to his toes.

The bastard was practically right next to him.

Heavy footsteps and angry voices forced Amadi to move. He edged along the wall and stopped. He’d have to run across the path to get away from the sound of crunching footsteps echoing in his ears. If he were a vampire, he’d be quicker than the human eye. But dawn had betrayed him.

The footsteps were nearly on top of them. His angry breaths burned his throat. He had no where else to go. He needed a miracle.

As if to answer his prayers, lightning crackled and lit up the dark sky. Something huge flew across the moon, casting a shadow. A piercing screech filled the air.

“Up there!” A man cried. “What is it?”

“’Tis a fire breathing demon!” Another hollered. Fear filled their voices.

But to Amadi, the screech brought joy, and hope swelled in his heart. William! He had changed into his dragon form, but he was flying too high to hear him. Amadi thought about changing into a bat and fly up to meet William, but if he did, he’d leave Violet to a terrible fate.

William flying in the air meant the Soaring Phoenix was nearby. The Cap’n was looking for him. There was still a chance Amadi could escape.

“Douse the torches, you fools!” Dubois yelled. “The beast can see us!”

Amadi wished William would fry their asses all the way back to hell.

Shots fired near them. The henchmen were too close. The stench of sulfur and rain hung in the air. Footsteps thundered around them. Amadi’s thumping heart ricocheted against his ribcage like the firing buckshot outside. He refused to be dragged to Celeste and become her love slave.

Assuming their pursuers would be preoccupied with a dragon, Amadi risked putting Violet on the wet manicured grass. He pulled on the mausoleum’s iron gate until it slid across the cracked stone; bits of pebbles fell onto the ground. It creaked, shattering the silence around him.

Pistols stopped firing.

Amadi clenched the bars tight. He was too afraid to move or breathe.

“It’s leaving.” The man’s excitement crushed Amadi’s miracle.

“I heard something. They’re here. Search for ’em.” Dubois’ evil voice sent fear gushing through Amadi’s veins.

Dubois was close, too damn close. Ignoring the panic building inside him, Amadi quietly picked up Violet and her black bag, then cradling her to his chest, he crept inside the crypt.

Wind blew. Clank, clank! Amadi flinched. The traitorous metal gate had slammed shut. ’Twas like a cannon going off.

“D’ye hear that, you idiots?” Dubois said. “They’re in one of these here vaults. Find ’em.”

“Looks like they went this way.”

Amadi heard the words and the sound of squishing footsteps. Violet’s face grew paler. Tingles sneaked through his arms and legs, leaving him chilled. He held Violet close, but her body failed to warm him and stop the cold numbness spreading through his body. Violet, the crypt, and the world left Amadi like a ship pulling away from another on the open sea.

He took a deep breath and shook his head, trying to fight the numbness. He had to be strong for both of them.

Only the rickety door stood between them and the enemy. Drops of rain scattered onto the floor, mixing with dust and cobwebs. Darkness shrouded the cemetery, and without torches, the men wouldn’t be able to see, but he could. His vision gave them an advantage.

Amadi lowered Violet onto the dusty floor and faced the door. His muscles coiled to fight, his fangs elongated. He’d give them a hell of a fight.

He stared at the metal door, waiting to attack and kill the first bastard who dared to enter. Long minutes passed. Blackness faded, and twilight emerged. His fangs retracted, and agony throbbed in his feet. He was a man again.

“The creature,” someone yelled. “It’s coming back.”

Someone screamed outside.

“To the caves, you idiots!”

Amadi took a chance and peered outside. He couldn’t see where William was or where Dubois and his men were. If he carried Violet across the bone yard, William might see them and help them escape. But what if he didn’t see them? They’d be caught for sure.

He listened and waited. “I think they went into the cave. For now.”

“Amadi.” Violet’s strained voice stopped his heart.

He slowly lowered himself, never taking his eyes off the door. He held up his finger as a warning to be quiet. She grew silent. He glanced down. Her head was to the side, her red hair covering her face. Blood drenched the side of her arm.

He opened her bag, hoping to find something to dig out the shot lodged in her shoulder. Her bag resembled Doc’s with needles, thread, and rags. He wished he had water to cleanse the wound, but he’d have to make do. Gently, he untied her stays, then pushed her crimson-stained shift past her creamy shoulder. Flesh was torn apart, and blood gushed from the wound. It looked like a clean entrance, but he had to make sure.

“Violet, can you hear me? They’re gone, but they’ll be back.”

“Yes.” Her voice was so weak he had to strain to hear her.

He wasn’t a surgeon and tried to recall what he’d seen Doc do a thousand one times. “I can’t tell if there’s any shot in the wound. I’ve got to check it before I stitch it.” He took a rag and wadded it up. “Open your mouth and bite hard.”

Violet nodded.

He gritted his teeth, not wanting to do what he must. But if he didn’t dig it out, it could get infected. Sweat trickled down his temples. He took a deep breath and pressed his finger into the wound.

She arched her back and clenched her fists. She shivered and released an anguish cry.

The sound tore out Amadi’s heart. How did Doc do this? Doc never shook when he cleaned or bound wounds, but Amadi shook like an old man. He couldn’t speak and swallowed his panic. He could do this. The entry wound was definitely clean, and he didn’t feel any buckshot. He wiped the blood off her shoulder then threaded a needle.

Thinking of how Hannah always spoke encouraging words when men were wounded, he tried to come up with something to soothe her, but nothing came to mind. He remembered a song she sang once, but only remembered a couple of verses. He cleared his throat and sang in a low voice.

“Sweetheart, come along!

For to hear da fond song,

Da sweet notes where da nightingale flows?

For hear da fond tale

Of da sweet nightingale...”

Concentrating on the words helped him to stop shaking and pull the needle through Violet’s soft flesh. His stitches were small and close to the wound.

Violet pulled out the rag.

“You should—”

“I’m fine,” she murmured. “That’s beautiful.” Her voice was weak and her eyes glossy. “Do you sing often?”

“No.” He leaned over and broke the thread with his teeth, tying the ends tight. Not as good as Doc’s, but five or six stitches neatly crossed through her skin. He wrapped a piece of cloth around her shoulder, hoping to keep out infection.

Violet closed her eyes, and her breasts rose up and down each time she inhaled and exhaled. “You did once, didn’t you?”

He thought about lying, but she would know. He moistened his lip. “’Twas a long time ago.” He couldn’t hide the sadness in his voice.

“Tell me.” She opened her eyes and clasped his hand. “’Twas to a woman, wasn’t it?”

“Aye, she was my first love—Nefertiti.” He’d not thought of her for so long. “She had a smile that melted da harshest heart. Even when I’d been beaten, she could make me laugh.”

“Tell me about her.” Violet trembled and gritted her teeth. “It helps me forget the pain.”

“We fell in love here at da Sorcière de Mer. She taught me to sing. She said singing helps you forget da pain and da misery.”

“Did it?”

He didn’t answer right away and wrestled with burying the past. “No.”

“I’m sorry. What happened to her? Is she still here?”

“No. She was sold to da Americas. I don’t know if she’s alive or dead.”

“Have you fallen in—”

“Love isn’t for slaves. It only brings pain.”

Violet closed her eyes. “’Tis a shame. Because you have a voice made for love. Deep and husky.” Her voice trailed away, and her breathing became deeper.

She was beautiful, but it was her bravery that touched his heart. It had been so long since he’d been with a woman he cared about, only satisfying his lust with whores. Could he take a chance again?

He brushed Violet’s damp hair off her pale face. He cradled her in his lap. Not able to resist, he leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead. “Rest, sweet flower.”

Weariness gripped him. He closed his eyes, but stayed fully alert. He couldn’t afford to sleep, not with being hunted. There was no way to get a message to the cap’n or to wave William down, not with the pouring rain and posse outside.

Maybe Dubois and his men had retreated deeper into the tunnel. If he didn’t hear anything, he’d take a chance. But someone could be outside watching. It would have been what the cap’n would have done. Dubois was many things, but foolish wasn’t one of them.

Voices murmured. A twig broke outside. Amadi’s eyes flew open. His hopes died. They were back.

Something slapped against the outside wall and echoed inside the crypt. “Search, this one,” a gruff voice said.

Amadi’s heart pounded fiercely, and his muscles bunched into attack mode. They’d be caught. And he’d be dragged back to the Maîtresse. He blocked out what she would do to him. To Violet.

He could withstand the hell. But not Violet. She was human. He’d seen the slaves Dubois had raped and murdered. What Dubois’s did to female slaves made the bravest man weak in the knees.

He hid Violet behind the stone sarcophagus along with her bag. “Stay here, brave little one.”

Not giving himself time to re-think his plan, he peered outside. Men searched a mausoleum a few feet away. Cursing his bad luck, he pushed open the squeaky metal gate. Surprisingly, it shut softly.

He darted behind a nearby gravestone. The sun peeked over the horizon. Dew covered the grass and drooping flowers. His limp limbs were weary after the bloodlust last night. But he couldn’t think of himself. He had to think about Violet. Drawing on his remaining strength, he bolted.

Amadi rushed through the soggy graveyard, pumping his heavy legs and arms. darting around tombstones, grave markers, and mausoleums, hoping to draw them away from Violet. His spent heart threatened to stop, and his lungs screamed for air. He forced himself to move through the thick mud, but he was weak, too damn weak, and he marched, rather than run.

Sizzling lightning betrayed him.

“There he is!”

Dubois cracked the whip. “Get ’im idiots!”

“Over! He’s headin’ for the gate.” A deep voice growled.

Adrenaline pulsed through him. Pounding feet chased him. Damn it! His pursuers were gaining.

Up ahead loomed a stone wall and a metal gate. Amadi gritted his teeth, determined to climb over the wall.

Pistols fired. The smell of sulfur exploded into the dewy air. Buckshot whizzed around him. He pushed himself hard and harder; his muscles straining to find the littlest bit of energy, and he feared his heart would burst from his chest.

He crashed into the metal gate then climbed. Someone cracked a whip. It looped around his neck, cutting into his throat. One hand still on the bar, he wrestled to uncoil the lash.

“Get off there, you big bloke!” The same deep voice ordered, but ’twas as if the man were right behind him.

Amadi refused to look over his shoulder. He grappled with the strap for freedom, but it tightened, cutting into his throat. Between gagging and choking, he fought to breathe. Spit rolled down his chin. He slipped his fingers underneath the whip and loosened it. But instead of getting it off, he yanked hard.

A loud oomph rang in Amadi’s ears. The whip went slack.

“Damn you!” The same voice cursed.

Amadi didn’t turn around. He flung the whip onto the ground and crawled up the gate like a scurrying spider.

“He’s gettin’ away!” Another man cried.

“Not if I can help it.” Dubois’ voice was too confident.

Amadi had reached the top when another crackle hit the air. Lightning lit up the gate, and he saw the jungle of freedom. He swung his leg, but rawhide coiled around his foot, hewing into his flesh.

Dubois held the whip and a cruel smile spread across his thin face. “Give it up, darkie.”

Amadi grabbed the cat-o’-nine-tails with his shaking hand and yanked. Heat rushed down his face, and his arm shook. But he needed both hands.

“Boyle, get your ass over here.” Dubois pulled on the whip as if it were a fishing pole.

His face and shirt covered with mud, Boyle grabbed the bowed whip. “You’ll pay, bloke.”

The men backed up, and with one fierce haul, they won. Amadi flew off the top of the gate, tearing his palm and thigh. The sky and clouds spun around him. He landed on his side. Pain slammed into his shoulder. He seized the whip and jerked. This time, it loosened, and he staggered to his feet.

Five men surrounded him. Desperation, anger, and hatred flooded their eyes. Battered and bloody, Amadi stood tall and met their fierce gazes.

Dubois chuckled. “There’s no sense fighting us, slave. You can’t escape.”

Amadi analyzed each one and hunted for the weakest codfish. He settled on the fattest one, who seemed a little slower than the others. This didn’t mean he’d be easy to overtake, but it was an advantage. Amadi charged and put his shoulder down.

The pudgy man’s eyes widened. “Help!” His flabby jowls shaking back and forth, he put up his shaking hands.

Amadi crashed into him, knocking him down. The man slid in the mud, slamming into a tombstone. He moaned.

Between two mausoleums, freedom waited. Amadi charged. Nothing was in his way.

But a rope and another rope lassoed around his neck. He wrestled with the ropes, but they tightened and tightened around his throat, strangling his breath. Dizziness gripped him, and his legs wobbled.

“Down, boy.”

Someone slammed something hard into the back of Amadi’s knees, and he fell. The men were on him like an army of fire ants, binding his hands, kicking and beating him.

Dubois stood in front of him and shoved a pistol in his face. “Get up.”

Coughing and gagging, Amadi dragged himself up. Pain pulsed through him, but he drew on his last bit of strength to stand.

The bastard cocked the pistol. “Where’s the girl?”

Amadi glared. “I don’t know. We got separated.”

“I’m going to ask you again.” Dubois pistol slapped him. “Where’s the girl?”

Pain exploded onto his cheek, and Amadi staggered. “I answered your question, you gutless devil.” Blood spat out of his mouth with each word, spitting onto Dubois’s shirt.

Dubois glanced at his shirt then stuck his redstained pistol into his belt. “Take him back to the Maîtresse. She’ll teach him what happens to escaped slaves.”

Amadi’s stomach tightened into tangled knots, and his knees knocked together, but he braced his shoulders, trying to hide the terror soaking his bones.

Dubois waved his hands. “The rest of you search for Violet. She’s got to be here somewhere.”

Dread bore into Amadi’s heart. He glanced up at the sky. But there was no dragon, no bats. Not even a bird. Loneliness and hopelessness crippled him. Had the Soaring Phoenix sailed out to sea?

Dubois got on his horse and tied the rope to the saddle horn. He kicked the side of the horse, and the horse trudged through the mud, forcing Amadi to march back to the Sorcière de Mer, to a woman whose heart was blacker than the devil’s.

His only hope of escape was death.

Chapter 13

Violet slowly opened her eyes. Tingles ran up her arm as something spiky crawled over her hand. She jerked and shivered. A black spider scurried to the other side of the stone mausoleum. “God, I hate spiders.”

Cobwebs clung to corners. Cockroaches lumbered across the floor. Dampness and mold permeated the air. Coughing, she pushed herself upright. Her shoulder screamed. She winced. “Amadi?”

Her heart froze over. He was gone. She was alone.

She hauled herself up, but her legs wobbled. She stumbled and fell into the sarcophagus, banging her hip. “Ouch!”

Catching her breath, she put her trembling hands on the sarcophagus and gripped the edges tight. But it was a mistake. Pain pulsed in her shoulder. Floating black dots swarmed in front of her eyes. She bit her lip.

Don’t faint.

She shook her head, trying to douse the fog in her brain. Where had Amadi gone? She missed him. He had been so tender and kind, even singing to her. Who would have thought a fierce pirate would possess such a beautiful baritone voice and sing about nightingales?

Her breath thundering between her ears, she stumbled toward the door and listened.

No human voices.

No heavy footsteps.

No screams.

Only the chirping of birds and buzzing of insects. She peered through a crack, but didn’t see anyone. Dubois was crafty, and if anything, the man was patient.

The sun was high in the sky. It had to be at least noon. She weaved back to where her bag was. A discarded needle was wrapped in a cloth and pushed up against the wall. Amadi had tended her wound and watched over her. She pressed her lips together and her eyes watered. Heaviness beat down on her slumped shoulders. Why would he leave her?

She gathered her bag and headed to the door.

Boom-boom-boombooom

Her heart was so loud she was sure Dubois would hear.

She forced herself to move, ignoring the fear creeping up her yellow spine. If anyone was watching, there would be no way she could outrun them. Escape would be impossible.

She pulled on her shrill will and tilted her chin. She wasn’t going to stay in this spider-and-roach-infested place, either. Hiding was for cowards. She might be many things, but a coward wasn’t one. She’d face her own destiny.

The metal gate creaked. Violet’s stomach tightened. She strained to hear any footsteps, but only the birds and insects went about their business—tweeting and humming. She wanted to scream for them to cease. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and slammed her back against it. Her heart beat faster than the busy bees.

There was no movement in the outlining trees or behind headstones or mausoleums.

Go, just go.

Violet stepped out of the shadow of the mausoleum and winced. Sunlight slapped her in the face. White dots twirled around her eyes—the grass and weeds, grave markers and sky moving faster and faster. Determined not to faint, she took a step but tripped. She fell forward, landing all fours, and pain shot up her arm into her shoulder. Nausea swirled in her gut. She swallowed, but her parched throat closed. If she’d stayed here, they’d find her.

Fighting the lightheadedness, she forced herself to move toward the gate. The sun beat down on her. Her clothes stuck to her hot skin. Not far from the graveyard was a stream and a waterfall. Behind the waterfall was a cave. If she could only get there…

Sweat blinded her vision, but she kept moving––one step at a time. She slipped behind a mausoleum and slid down the stone wall. Shade covered her, chilling her clammy skin.

FLSSH FLSSH FLSSH

She wiped her forehead and licked her dry and cracked lips, listening to the water splattering nearby.

The steady rhythm reminded her of Amadi’s smoothing voice. Thinking of being in his strong arms again, she closed her eyes for a few minutes…

A loud pop woke her. The sun had moved. What was that? God, how long had she’d been sitting here?

More pops shook the air. Her heart stopped. Birds stopped singing. The faint hint of gunpowder permeated her hiding place. Gun shots. She had to move. It could be a hunting party. She couldn’t tell how close it was. Her mind was too fuddled.

Move.

She managed to move her creaky body. Her hair plastered against her neck. She licked her parched lips. She stumbled against the gate. Finally, she was here. She put her hand on the bars and pushed, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. Cripes! Now, what the hell was she going to do?

Tears threatened to fall, but she rubbed her eyes. No, she wasn’t going to cry. She shielded her eyes. Nearby, an avocado tree grew next to the wall. Wavering back and forth as if she were drunk, she snatched some fallen fruit off the ground. She peeled the avocado open and ate the soft, smooth flesh. It was overripe and bruised, but she didn’t care. Her swirling stomach eased at having something to gnaw on.

Strength fired through her. She stuffed more avocados into her bag then stood. Her legs were less shaky, and the lightheadedness had lessened. She wiped her messy hands on her dress then hiked it up to her knocking knees as she put a foot on the bark of the tree.

Careful not to pull the stitches, she inched up the tree. Thanks to her throbbing shoulder, the going was slow. She panted hard, her breath harsh. Branches scratched her skin and tore her dress, but she didn’t stop.

Blood thumped between her temples. Half way up, she stopped to catch her breath. Fuzziness fumbled her mind, and she gripped a branch hard to steady herself. She inhaled and exhaled until the black dots faded. An ocean breeze washed over her, cooling her sweltering skin.

A thick branch hung over the wall. She could do this. Carefully, she edged out onto the limb. She prayed it would hold her weight. Snap. Her blood froze. The branch swayed and dipped. Lord, couldn’t anything go her way?

You can do this.

Biting her lip, she stared at the wall. It was wide enough for her to stand on. Or at least she hoped so.

She twisted around until her legs dangled. She stretched, and her feet tapped onto the stone. She released her grip on the branch.

Suddenly, it broke. She landed on the wall, but she dipped forward, then backward, spinning her arms around and around to gain her balance. “No!”

But she fell backward and yelled. Pain twisted into her back and left wrist. She couldn’t move.

Breathe, just breathe.

Tears welled in her eyes, and her stomping heart sent blood roaring in her ears.

Gunshots blasted. Hounds bayed.

Damn it! Do something. Pushing back the agony to the furthest corner of her mind, she rolled onto her side and dragged herself to her feet.

Get to the spring.

Something trampled on leaves. She grabbed a stick to beat her attackers. Useless, but ’twas all she had.

A wart hog bolted from the trees, squealing. Dogs barked. Hunters had to be following it. She ran as fast her feeble legs would move.

The hog whipped past her. Damn!

Horses trampled through the forest, stomping and snorting.

“Through those trees!” a man yelled. “Find the beast!”

More barks and growls followed.

Violet dove into a thick bush of jungle flowers and huddled underneath the branches, mindless of the scrapes and scratches. Bloodhounds raced and sniffed around the bush. She held her breath and brought her knees to her chest.

Horses trotted around the bush.

“Find something, boys!”

Violet recognized the drawl voice. It was Owen Shield.

A squeal ahead of her sent the hounds baying. Violet couldn’t move. She could see the legs of horses moving around her. Why weren’t they following the dogs?

He reached down and tore something from the bush. Material from her tattered dress.

“I think Celeste D’Aubigne’s little indentured servant went this way. She must not have gotten far.”

Violet bit her lip. Fear prickled down the back of her scalp. He’d turn her over to Dubois. She closed her eyes and turned her head, too afraid to stare into Owen Shield’s triumphant green eyes.

Chapter 14

“Celeste is madder than a hornet with her prized buck. Will see how he likes being pinned down butt naked on an ant hill.”

Violet’s stomach recoiled and bitterness burned the back of her thick throat. Celeste called it her honey torture. She’d pour honey over the man who was strapped to a hill. Red ants would crawl over him, biting him. Harden men would cry out. Celeste would sit in her favorite lounge chair, drinking sweet tea. Violet shook as she wiped a stray tear. Damn her!

“Keep your eyes open, boys. Celeste is offering a fine reward.” He chuckled. “I’ll wager we could make Dubois pay, since Celeste is going to allow him to punish her.”

His callous laughter turned her stomach. They all knew what Dubois had in mind for her, yet none of them had the tiniest inkling to help her. This place was colder than a wintry day in London. She missed the busy streets, the smells of the bakeries, crowded markets. It was home. Here, she was nothing, but property. She hoped Thomas ended up in the Thames River for selling her to Celeste. The bastard!

Celeste had paid Thomas handsomely for her, after learning of Violet’s unfortunate “gift.” Celeste told her she could earn her freedom, but she was a damned liar.

The horses slowly trotted away. Violet was too terrified to move and curled up under the bush. She nibbled on some more avocados to fill her growling tummy. The waterfall would have to wait until dark. There was no way she’d make it there without being seen. She wished Amadi was here. She felt safer with him.

Slow clomps stole her breath away. A horse lumbered up to the bush. Owen came back. Had he discovered her hiding place?

Violet tried to control her gnawing fear as she fumbled to pick up a rock. She clutched the rock tight, ready to fight for her life. If Owen stuck his ferret face inside the bush, she would smash it. This scared rabbit had teeth.

Reins fell onto the ground as the horse bent over to munch on the grass. She waited for a long pair of legs to hop off the horse, then for a pair of shiny black boots to step closer to the bush. The air grew thin. She tried not to breathe, but she sucked in air hard.

She strained to hear the slightest noise, but only zooming bees rang in her ears.

She edged closer to the branches to study the horse and rider. An English saddle was strapped to the horse, but there was no rider. Where was Owen? He wasn’t stupid. He was cunning. Was this another one of his elaborate traps? The bastard had a second sense in hunting down runaway slaves.

He and his men could be lurking in the nearby trees, watching, waiting. Her heart pounded harder and harder, sending blood rushing through her. Fear swept through her like a roaring river.

Dusk had fallen. Vines and moss clung to the thick trees. Ferns and flowers hugged their trunks. She couldn’t tell if men hid in the dark forest that gave them an advantage.

She wanted to grab the horse’s reins and climb up onto the saddle. But she couldn’t risk it. The horse twitched its ears and lazily nibbled. It was a mare, smaller than the stallions. The mare’s long white tail flicked at buzzing insects, and as she leisurely chewed on the grass, she moved farther and farther away.

Violet didn’t know if she could make it to the falls with her throbbing shoulder and wrist, but the little mare could bring her there, then she could set it free. Back in London, she’d never learned how to ride a horse. Horses had frightened her. They were so big and powerful. But Celeste liked to ride around the plantation and insisted Violet come with her. She always claimed she needed Violet to tell if her slaves or men were lying.

Another lie.

Celeste knew of her fear of horses and it gave her pleasure to watch the terror in Violet when she first learned to ride. Violet smiled. She’d bested her. She became an accomplished rider, something Celeste hadn’t counted on.

She hugged her knees tighter.

And waited and waited and waited.

Pain throbbed in her wrist and shoulder. Her parched throat was like a dry riverbed thirsting for the tiniest drop of water. Her stomach growled. She needed more to eat than avocados. If she didn’t move, she’d pass out inside the bush.

Hoping her pursuers had grown tired of their perch, she clutched the rock and crawled out of the bush on her belly. She stopped and listened each time she moved. She headed for the mare, who still enjoyed her sweet grass.

Violet slowly stood next to the horse, her senses on full alert. She was a doe, trying to outrun hunters.

Nothing moved.

She couldn’t hold her rock and get on the horse. Cursing softly, she dropped it. Her left wrist was useless. Ignoring the pain, she grabbed the saddle with her left hand and stuck her foot into the stirrup. With the last ounce of energy, she threw her leg across the saddle. The mare was smaller than most horses. If she had been one of the larger stallions, she’d never have been able to haul herself up.

She panted, trying to ignore the dizziness swirling around her. Wind blew the palms and trees, chilling her skin. She brushed her hair out of her eyes as she fumbled for the reins. She bumped her heels against the mare’s side and steered her toward the falls.

She leaned forward on the horse as it tromped through the ferns and grass. The smell of water penetrated the air, the deeper the horse trotted into the jungle. Leaves and branches brushed against Violet’s skin. She swayed on the horse, gripping its mane to keep from crashing onto the jungle floor. The insects buzzed louder. Her shoulder and wrist throbbed. God, how could she help Amadi in her present state? If only she was a vampire…Wait. Amadi was a vampire, and he was a prisoner.

As the mare pushed through trees, the sound of water splashing and rumbling grew louder. She licked her dry cracked lips. The falls were so close.

She’d be able to drink and rest for a while. If only she could think of a way to hide the little mare. She’d need her to get to Amadi. If she could get to him before dawn, maybe she could rescue him, but she was in no state to get to him without drinking water.

The dense branches parted. A full moon cast a white glowing light on the water cascading down the rocks into the pool. Her eyes widened, and it was as if someone had cranked up her heartbeat.

Bambambambambambam

The sound thumped in her ears, her throat, and her chest.

She and the mare weren’t alone.

A huge blue and green dragon drank from the pool. Its wings were close to its side, and its tail curled around the hind legs. She was hallucinating.

There were no such things as dragons. There were no such things as dragons. There were no such things as dragons.

Another lie.

The beast lifted its head. Glowing gold eyes narrowed. Black smoke puffed out of its long snout. She couldn’t move. Cold fear turned into hot burning coals that melted her gut then shoot through her trembling body. She tried to scream, but only a puff of air escaped her frozen lips.

The dragon flapped its massive wings. Violet gripped the reins tight, but the little mare whinnied and bucked. She lost her grip and fell off. Her head hit something hard. Blinding pain slammed into the back of her head, stealing her breath, and darkness swirled around her. The last thing she remembered was a pair of glaring golden eyes peering down at her.

Chapter 15

The Maîtresse strolled over to Amadi. Her hair was piled high into a bun, emphasizing her green cat eyes. She flicked her gaze over him then grabbed his cheek, digging her nails into his flesh. “For your insolence, you’ll work in the sugarcane fields. But tonight, you’re mine.”

Her citric perfume gagged him. He bared his teeth. “I’d rather work in the fields than be alone with you.”

“Still fighting me.” She licked his cheek, then released him.

He gritted his teeth, wishing he could slap her. But he couldn’t move, not with his numbing hands bound behind him and leg irons clasped around his throbbing ankles.

She released a haughty laugh. “Take him away.”

Dubois led him away. “Today, you’re going to wish you’d never been born.” He chuckled, snapping his whip.

Amadi held his head high. He was a proud man, a free man. He wouldn’t let Dubois or Celeste break his spirit. Once a man’s spirit broke, he stopped fighting to be free. Something Amadi would never do. Freedom was worth dying for.

The other slaves rode in the cart to the fields, but Dubois made Amadi walk. The dumb bastard. Amadi preferred to walk, even in shackles, rather than be crowded into a cart with the other men. He liked the sun on his face and back.

Dubois rode his horse behind Amadi. He flicked the whip, nicking Amadi’s shoulder. “Run.”

Amadi wouldn’t be able to run, but arguing with a cold-hearted bastard was useless. He broke out in a run, only to trip over a rock and land on his face.

Dubois laughed as he lashed Amadi across the back. “Clumsy dolt. Now get up.”

This was only the beginning of Dubois’s cruelty. Every time Amadi slowed pulling the weeds or stilled the cold last would rip into his skin. ’Twasn’t even mid-day, and Amadi’s back was in agony. But he never complained.

He clamped his jaw tight as he cut down the stalks and piled them high. He wanted to take the machete and slit Dubois’s throat, but another man followed Amadi, a pistol trained on him. With the damn leg irons, he could only shuffle.

The sun beat down on him, drenching him with hot sweat. He could feel it burning his skin and knew tonight he’d be in pain.

A woman came with a bucket of water and dipped a ladle, scooping clear, fresh water. Amadi licked his dry, cracked, lips and reached to take a drink to satisfy his parched throat, but Dubois rode his horse in between them.

Dubois grinned. “Not you. Get back to work. You’ll get no food or water today.”

Amadi clenched his fists, but he went back to work, refusing to beg for mercy.

* * *

That night, Amadi was back in the damn dungeon. He yanked on his chains and winced. His sunburned skin and lashed back screamed in agony. Breathing hard, he stood still, trying to get used to the pain. So far, Celeste had not made her presence known, but if she was anything like her foul brother, this absence wouldn’t last forever. She’d definitely torture and humiliate him tonight. How could a woman be so evil?

He thought Natasa had been the most evil woman he’d ever met, but she’d been a demon. Demons were supposed to be wicked.

He leaned against the cold wall. Was Violet all right? He hoped Dubois hadn't found where he’d hidden her. He didn't want her to be punished, to be locked in this foul place or have something worse happen to her. She’d said Celeste would punish her or kill her. His heart would break if one hair were damaged.

He ran his hand through his braids. The chains rattled, reminding him he was a piece of property. He'd rather be aboard the Fiery Damsel.

Stay away from here, Violet.

The door creaked. Light flooded down the stairwell.

He stood straight.

A faint sniffling caught his attention. Celeste was crying? Why? He didn’t think the woman felt bad about anything she did.

She stood in the shadows, but she wasn’t alone. His heart withered and died. It wasn’t Celeste.

’Twas little Chloe. Her brown eyes were filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. But what turned his blood to stone was the welt on her cheek.

“Hello, beau.” Celeste’s cruel voice hardened his soul.

He glared. “What da hell did you do to her?”

She shrugged. “Obviously, I beat her.”

Amadi clenched his fists and hate pumped through his veins. His breath roared between his ears. He’d never hit a woman before, but he’d beat Celeste to death. “Let her go.”

Celeste threw her head back and laughed. “That’s what I like about you. Your silly belief that you’re in charge, oui?”

He gave her a fevered stare. “Let her go.”

“No.” She led the frightened child to the rack and lifted her up.

Amadi lunged for the barred door. His chains rattled. “Don’t hurt her.”

Celeste cast him a sly look, a look that tore out his soul. “What are you willing to do to save her?”

Kill you.

Chloe bowed her head. Her curls escaped from her cap. She was all alone. Her world had been shattered. He’d promised to protect her, promised her mother.

Amadi lifted his chin and said what Celeste wanted to hear. “Anything.” The word tasted bitter and foul.

Celeste arched a slender eyebrow. “Tell me where Violet is.”

Amadi met her hostile glare. “She’s dead.”

She studied him. “You’re lying. That’s not what you told my men.”

He spat onto the floor. “Why da hell would I tell them anything?”

His voice was riddled with hate. Celeste put her hand on her throat, and a flicker of fear crossed over her face, but it quickly vanished. She latched a link on Chloe’s small hand, but it fell off and landed with a clank on the floor.

Small relief flooded Amadi. The child was too small for the rack, but that wouldn’t stop Celeste. She’d find a new torture. He couldn’t bear to watch the child be tortured.

Celeste narrowed her eyes. “Then where is she?”

Anguish burned the back of his dry throat. “In the tunnel.”

“Where?”

He slumped. “I don’t know. I was running for my life. I didn’t stop to see what direction she’d go.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He glared. “Then don’t believe me.”

She slapped Chloe across the face. Chloe burst into tears. Her wide eyes and red cheek struck terror into Amadi’s gut.

“I don’t know where Violet’s body is, but I can take you to her.”

“If you like, Amadi, I’ll burn this child alive.”

Her evil voice sent the blood draining from his face and landing with a hard thud in his clenched gut. His nostrils flared and he grounded his teeth.

Tonight, he’d turn again. Tonight, Celeste would learn true terror.

He squared his shoulders. “I’m not lying.”

Celeste flashed him a beaming smile that made his skin crawl. “Bien. Take me to her.”

“If she’s dead, then—”

“That is none of your concern.”

Celeste dragged Chloe out of the dungeon. Panic choked his throat, cutting off his air. His hands shook and fluttered. He backed up against the cold wall, trying to breath normally, but he failed miserably. Amadi didn’t know what he was going to do. Sunset was a long ways off. If Celeste discovered his lie, Chloe would die.

A few minutes later, Dubois unlocked Amadi’s cell. He bound Amadi’s wrists behind his back then wrapped a chain around his neck. He yanked hard.

Amadi choked and gagged.

Dubois and another lackey led him out of the dungeon like a dog. Celeste and Chloe waited from them at the tunnel along with a small posse of men. They were armed, but what turned his gut upside down was one of them held an unlit torch.

The man pointed the unlit torch at Chloe. “Soon you’ll burn. Your skin will fall off your bones.”

Chloe’s grew wide, with white showing around the irises. Tears glistened on her ruby cheeks, and she trembled.

Amadi lurched forward, bent on ramming his shoulder into the bastard, but Dubois was ready.

“Heal, boy.”

The chain tightened, snapping Amadi’s head back. He gagged on his own spit and fell on his arse.

Dubois leaned over. He patted his hip where he had a whip. “Now, listen here, darkie. You’ll behave yourself. Or I swear I’ll flay that little girl. She’ll never walk right again.”

Amadi sucked down deep breaths. Hate pumped his heart to the breaking point and he clenched and unclenched his fingers. He growled but bit back a retort. How could these bastards do this? She was a little poppet. If they wanted to hurt someone, hurt him. He could take it. He was immortal.

He was forced to lead the way.

“Search as we move.”

“This is foolish,” Dubois grumbled. “My men and I looked in the damn tunnel. He’s lying to you, Maitresse.”

Celeste looked between Dubois and Amadi.

Ignoring the fear swirling around in his gut, Amadi tilted his chin in defiance. He might be bound, but he wouldn’t cower to her or any of these blasted men.

She snapped her fingers. “Search it again.”

The men swore, but they searched behind rocks and between crevices. At this rate, they’d move slow. But not slow enough for the sun to set. He needed time, a diversion.

Amadi jerked. Dubois and the other man yanked.

Pretending to be choking, he fell on his knees, gagging and gasping for breath.

“You fools!” Celeste yelled. “If he passes out, we’ll never find Violet.”

The chain went slack. Not knowing if this would work, Amadi jumped to his feet and knocked the two men down. He plowed into Celeste, and she loosened her grip on Chloe.

“Run, Chloe!” His commanding voice echoed off the cave walls.

Chloe blinked. He worried she’d be too frightened to move. But when the man with the unlit torch came running, she bolted down the dark tunnel. Most children were terrified of the dark, afraid of monsters. But for Chloe, her monsters were in the light. Darkness would give her cover.

“After her, imbèciles!”

Dubois wiped his bleeding lip. He must have hit a rock. Amadi smiled, but it faded as Dubois grabbed a whip.

Celeste snatched the whip out of his hand. “No, I want to do it.” Her deadly voice promised to make him wish he’d never been born.

Two men grabbed his arms. Amadi didn’t fight them. If he did, they’d chase him. They might find Chloe and his plan would be useless.

They forced him to his knees.

Celeste cracked the whip. It sliced into his flesh deeper and deeper. Pain gripped him. For a small woman, she had strength. But he was stronger. Beads of sweat slid down his face. He bit his lip as she wielded the lash again and again.

“I bet fifteen francs he passes out before he cries out,” someone said.

“No.” Dubois shook his head. “The Maitresse will make him beg.”

Amadi vowed to prove them wrong.

But Celeste cracked the whip. Amadi yelled. The thick cord had sliced his ear. Blood leaked down his neck.

Heavy footsteps ran down the tunnel. Two men burst through the darkness, their faces white, sweat dripping down their temples. “Maitresse, Maitresse.”

Amadi took deep breaths, trying to ignore the blinding agony. He peered over his shoulder.

The men kept looking behind him as if the devil trailed them. One of them pointed. “Someone’s in the tunnel.”

Celeste rolled her eyes. “Idiot,Violet is in the tunnel. Tell me, is she alive?”

“Yes,” one of the men nodded.

“I told you not to lie to me.”

With each word, she lashed Amadi harder and harder. Black dots spun around him and the cave went in and out of focus. His heartbeat thundered in his throat. He released a hard sigh and closed his eyes. He fell forward onto the cold ground, wishing he’d pass out.

Celeste pushed the man closest to her. “Then go get her, idiot.”

Amadi swallowed back his despair.

Violet. No! Don’t try and save me.

“But…but…she’s not a-alone.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean she’s not alone? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little girl.”

“’Tis not Chloe.” The other man pulled out his pistol. “’Tis a….’tis….a monster.”

Fire glowed down the tunnel. Amadi breathed in relief. William. Finally, thank God.

Both Violet and Chloe were down there. What if….

A mighty roar stole his breath. Someone screamed.

His heart stopped. Adrenaline surged through his battered body and he tried to move, but his trembling legs gave way. The skin across his sweating body tightened. Tears pushed against the back of his eyelids. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman or a child. He sagged into the ground in defeat. Before he passed out, all he could wonder about was if William burned to death a little girl or the woman he loved?

Chapter 16

Amadi woke to gunfire and screams. Blackness swirled around him and he had to shake his head to clear the fuzziness. Scared and angry voices muffled down to where he lay. But he couldn’t understand it. It took him a minute to discover where he was. Darkness surrounded him, but the stench of dried blood and dust and dead air sickening his stomach told him he was back in the damn dungeon. He lay on his back on the cold floor, surprised he wasn’t chained. Why wasn’t he? And why were there gunshots?

He rolled onto his gut and winced. Quick pain shot down to his back and to his legs. No doubt the bastards thought he’d not be able to escape.

But they were wrong. Sunset was only an hour away. The lashes on his back had already begun to heal. His vampire powers were growing stronger. Blood pushed through him. If anyone came down here to hurt him, they would regret getting out of bed today. Soon his incisors would lengthen and his vampire strength would return, then his torturers would be at his mercy.

Pounding footsteps thundered over his head, matching his sharp breath. He pushed himself to a sitting position and bit his lip to keep from crying out. Who was attacking?

As if to answer to his question, the door creaked open. He clamped his jaw tight, grabbed the bars, and pulled himself up. The glow of a lantern chased away the blackness. Soft footsteps stepped down the stairs.

Amadi’s heart thudded hard against his ribs. His stomach churned as he thought of the agony that would be forced upon him. A slight curvy shadow cast on the wall. Definitely a woman.

“Amadi?” The sweetest voice calmed the panic brewing inside him.

He bunched his eyebrows. Was it his imagination? “Violet?”

She lifted the lantern concern filled her glistening eyes. “Oh, God. I am so sorry.” She hurried over to the cell.

Scratches were on her hands and cheeks, but nothing took away from her beauty.

“What are you doin’ here? Dubois—”

She put her small hand over his. “No, Celeste and Dubois don’t know I’m here. They’re busy managing a defense.”

Her touch took away his pulsing pain, and it kindled the heat of desire rushing through his bloodstream. He ached to kiss her sweet lips. But he shoved the feeling behind. “Against who?”

“Your friends.”

Hope chased away his doubts. “Friends?”

“Aye, Mariah and William.”

“How—”

She smiled. “I stumbled upon them at a small pond. William gave me quite a scare.” She snatched the keys dangling off the wall. “We must hurry. I don’t know how long William can hold them off.”

He swallowed hard, thinking of the cave. “Chloe?”

“She’s safe.”

He narrowed his eyes and tightened the bars. “She’s not ridin’ William, is she?” He could barely contain himself from yelling

“Mariah’s holding her.”

“Damn it! She’s just a small poppet.”

“Shhh,” she glanced over her shoulder. “They’ll hear you.” She put the lantern down to unlock the door.

Amadi swung open the creaking metal door. Violet rushed into his arms and molded her luscious body against his. He held her tight, inhaling her loving smell of jungle flowers. He brushed his fingers down her face and cherished the shape of her eyes, the fullness of her lips, the softness of her cheeks. She was perfect. Vampire or man, he wanted her to lick her skin to discover her hidden passions, but he settled for a kiss. Not able to resist, he twirled his tongue over her pulse, and need pounded into him so hard that his body squeezed painfully.

Violet exhaled a soft sound, somewhere between desire and excitement. She moved slightly.

The small movement sent pressure and hunger draining all of his good judgment. “You are my heart, Violet. I’ll protect you with my life.” He blurted out the words, filled with more intensity than he’d ever felt before. His heart sank to his knotted gut, afraid she’d push him away—a mere slave.

She clasped his chin and kissed him on the lips, her breath honey warm. “And I you.”

An explosion broke Amadi’s concentration. “No time for kissin’.” He clutched Violet’s hand. “Come with me. We must escape. All of us.”

Violet reached for the lantern. “All of us? What do you mean?”

He brought her trembling hand to his lips and kissed it. “I won’t allow Celeste and her minions to torture another soul on dis blasted plantation.”

“Amadi, there’s no way you can take on all of them.”

He pulled her toward him. “Aye, I can. My eyes are becomin’ keener, my thirst hungrier.”

“Do you need—”

He put his finger on delicate lips. “Not from you.” His fangs elongated. He nibbled behind her ear.

She shivered and rubbed her hands down his lashed back.

He flinched.

She stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He scraped his teeth down her throat, refusing to taste one ounce of her precious blood. “I’ve other plans for you.”

She arched her back, offering more of her throat.

Amadi closed his eyes and pushed back his desire to taste her again. He trembled and a fine sheen of sweat coated his body. Worse was the hunger gnawing at his soul. The bloodlust took him over, demanding he take her and indulge in what she freely offered.

Violet kissed him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” Not true. He was about to forget where they were and take her on the filthy floor. Drawing on his iron will, he clasped her hand.

She frowned. “That’s not true.”

He bristled. “You know I want you. I always want you but dis is not da time.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled. “I know.”

He picked up the lantern and blew out the candle. “I can see without it.”

Not making a sound, he led her up the steep stairs. Screams and yells grew louder.

“The sugarcane is on fire!”

Amadi stopped. It was a female. He’d heard the voice before and thought maybe it was a maid.

“Where is da flying demon?” Another woman said. Perhaps the cook.

He cracked open the door. Two female servants wearing aprons crowded against the window. Where was everyone else?

Quietly, he led Violet out of the stairwell into the kitchen. Violet clutched his hand tight.

The robust cook turned around, and her eyes widened. She put her hand on her throat. “Oh my God.” Her voice was more of a squeak for such a big woman.

The smaller woman screamed.

Angry footsteps thundered through the house. Amadi shoved Violet behind him.

Dubois ran into the kitchen with a flintlock drawn. Two other men were on either side of him. “What the hell happened to you, boy?”

All fear left Amadi. He walked toward the men. He gave them his most evil grin. “I am your worst horror.”

And for the first time, their eyes widened in terror.

Chapter 17

Amadi cracked his neck and drew on his vampire powers. Tingles rippled through him. His muscles bulked and his stride was firmer. He narrowed his eyes. “Time for you to pay for your devilry, Dubois. And your men.”

This time, Amadi didn’t fight the curse—the thinning of his veins, the slowing of his heart, the dry thirst.

The men clicked on the half-cock, rotating it to full-cock.

“Take another step.” Dubois aimed his flintlock at Violet. “And she’s dead.”

An explosion burst outside. The two men flinched then glanced over their shoulders.

Amadi had no idea what William was doing, but he didn’t hesitate and charged.

Dubois fired. Smoke and the smell of gunpowder filled the kitchen.

Amadi winced, hot burning pain buried in his shoulder. But he ignored it. He lunged at Dubois, knocking the weapon out of his hand.

Dubois took a step back. Fear flickered in his wide eyes. “Fire, you fools!”

Amadi grabbed both men and slammed them together. They cried out then went silent. He didn’t want them. He wanted to feast on Dubois.

One of the women screamed, “’Tis a demon. Lord, save us!”

“Run!” the other yelled.

Both men threw their hands over their head and ran.

Amadi seized Dubois by the neck and dug his fangs into his throat. He sucked hard. Warm blood flushed through his veins, satisfying the demanding hunger. But he wanted more, much more, and for the first time, he’d disobey the cap’n.

Dubois smacked him in the temple with the pistol. Blinding torment slammed into Amadi, blurring his vision, but he held onto his prey.

Dubois pushed on Amadi’s chest and hit him with the pistol and his fist. “Release me!” There was a frayed edge to his voice, something terrified and desperate.

Sweet blood pumped through Amadi; energy soared through him. The harder he guzzled, Dubois’s punches went from hard smacks to soft slaps. His heart slowed, the beat faint and fainter, then his arms dropped to his side. Bang. The pistol crashed onto the kitchen floor.

Amadi released him. Dubois fell, his eyes wide, but there was no light, no flicker. Wetness dripped down Amadi’s chin onto his chest. He wiped his mouth on his arm.

“You killed him, oui?” a syrupy voice accused.

He whirled around and his heart stopped.

Celeste had a sword held below Violet’s chin. “What are you?”

“I’m a vampire.”

“A vampire? I see it, but I do not believe it.” She shook Violet. “Is he telling the truth?” She pressed the sword closer to Violet’s throat, and blood seeped down her neck. “Lie to me and you are dead.”

“Aye, he’s telling the truth.”

“Mon Dieu, I did not know they existed. I have heard many stories, some pleasant, some not so pleasant.”

“Let her go.”

“I do not think so. You plan on killing me, no?” Celeste narrowed her eyes, but rather than fear or hate, excitement flashed in them. She curled her lips into a sneer. “I do not like to lose. Step back, or I will kill her.”

Amadi did as he was told but pulled back his lips, revealing his fangs. His hands twitched. If he attacked, could he rescue Violet in time?

Black smoke billowed outside the kitchen window. Pistols exploded. Fire flickered against the night sky. A loud shriek echoed outside.

Celeste moistened her lip. Her face paled. Perspiration trickled down her temples, and her hand holding the sword shook.

“Tell me, Maîtresse.” Amadi’s voice was low and mocking. “Are you afraid of a dragon?”

“Êtes un imbécile. Who would not be afraid of a dragon?” And the voice, the sneering voice of the Maitresse, now sounded different, quiet, hysterical.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not afraid.”

“Then you’re a fool. Stay where you are.” She forced Violet to move backward, but Violet dug her heels into the floor and closed her fights, striking Celeste’s thighs.

“Keep struggling, Violet, and I will slit your throat, mon pet.”

“Violet, stop,” Amadi ordered. His heart threatened to burst through his rib cage. He could not bear to see her bleed, not because of her enticing blood, but because she was the woman of his fantasy—fearlessness, determined, strong.

Amadi lifted his eyebrow. “You’re not going to fight for your plantation?”

Celeste laughed, but instead of her usual devilish laugh, ’twas nervous, as if she was trying too hard to sound brave. “If it is burned to the ground, I can rebuild. I will not be burned alive.”

He folded his arms. “What about your men?”

She shrugged. “They are expendable. I can get new men. I am rich.”

Her heartlessness churned his gut. She was even more selfish than her evil brother. “You actually think you’ll survive?”

Celeste cocked her eyebrow. “Cerainement. Je suis la Maîtresse.” A quiver of doubt trembled in her salty voice.

“You’re wrong, dead wrong.” Amadi hoped his voice hid the fear pulsing through him. If Celeste suspected he was vulnerable to her hurting Violet, she’d use it against him. Something he could not afford. “Wherever you hide, I will hunt you down.”

“Move, Violet.”

Violet mouthed the words. “I love you.”

Amadi’s heart quickened, but his blood thinned. His dry throat thickened. He knew he looked like a creature right out of hell, but this woman accepted him, even loved him—him, a lowly slave.

“Stay alive.”

“She will live, as long as you do not do anything stupide.” She dragged Violet toward the fireplace in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

Celeste flashed him a triumphant smile. “You will see, beau.” She pushed on a brick in the fireplace, and the wall next to it, swung open. A secret passage. She shoved Violet inside and followed.

The wall slammed on his heart.

Amadi rushed toward the opening, growling and snarling.

“No!” Violet cried on the other side.

He pressed the same brick, and the wall moved again, but when he stepped inside, darkness blanketed the tunnel. Cold, stale air and cobwebs hit him in the face. Stairs plummeted into blackness. Even with his vampire eyes, he could not see make out any two forms. “Violet, where are you?”

A muffled cry answered. Not caring what awaited him below, he rushed down the stairs. “Violet! Answer me!”

“No!” Violet pushed Celeste, who stumbled and fired. A shot whizzed past Amadi’s ear.

He rushed toward Celeste, but before he could reach her, she whipped out her sword and stabbed Violet in the chest. Violet crumpled onto the floor, blood pouring between her breasts.

His soul turned ice cold. Anger exploded him like an canon. Violet lay motionless on the floor. He detected her beating heart, but her breath was shallow, too shallow.

“She lied to me for the last time, no?”

“You bitch!” Amadi rushed toward Celeste, his arms stretched out, determined to strangle her.

But fire blasted through the darkness, slamming into his chest. Amadi flew backward and smashed his head on the back of the stairs. Pain and dizziness seized him. He needed more blood.

“Now, who is at my mercy?”

Amadi recoiled at Celeste’s overconfidence. His strength was waning. Blood, he needed more. He had to save Violet, get her out of here.

He scanned his surroundings. ’Twas a cellar, filled with barrels, but what caught his eye was the pistols and muskets in gun cases and swords piled against the wall. This was her armory. No telling how many weapons she had.

He opened his mouth to swear at Celeste but changed his mind. He forced himself to lay perfectly still, held his breath, and closed his eyes.

Celeste kicked him in the foot.“Vampire. What a disappointment.” The sound of another pistol being cocked froze his heart. He waited for pain.

It fired and the stench of sulfur choked him.

Agony stabbed his gut like a hot poker, and he bit back a moan. He wouldn’t die, not with a pistol shot. Only slicing off his head would kill him. But then Celeste was a twisted wench, and her depravity had no bounds. She’d cut off his head on a whim, just for the fun of it.

His heart hammered so hard he was afraid Celeste would hear.

Celeste walked up the steps, her shoes scraping on the stone.

Pushing the pain behind him, Amadi swung his arm and smacked her in her legs. She screamed and fell forward. He seized her wrist. She still clutched the sword and sliced his thigh.

He squeezed her fingers and she cried out. The sword banged onto the stone, then clanged, clanged, clanged down the steps into the cellar.

“No, stop.” Her terrified voice didn’t tap one ounce of his mercy.

“I’ve just begun.” He tossed her onto her back and covered her with his body.

She squirmed, her fists beating on his chest. “Get off me this instant. You are a slave. You will obey me. Or I will—” Her strong voice went from commanding to hysterical.

“You days of tyranny are over.” He was tired of listening to her piercing voice. He bit into her flesh. The stench of citrus choked him, but he pushed past it. Being this close to her twisted his insides.

She gurgled and screamed. With other victims, he’d always been tender and careful, but not with Celeste. She wasn’t human. She was a monster. A monster whose lifeline had just run out.

He drank deeper, wanting to get this over with. He hated taking her warm blood, but he needed it to heal. The pain in his shoulder lessened, and the burning in his gut dulled. Her salty blood satisfied the curse.

She slowly stopped moving beneath him, and her heart stopped beating against his chest. ’Twas over. She was dead.

He got off her and stood tall. He’d dreamed of killing her over and over again, and each time, he’d felt happier than when he escaped from the Sorcière de Mer. But now, all he felt was numbness.

No excitement.

No joy.

No elation.

A small gasp grabbed his attention. He rushed over to Violet and lifted her into his arms. “Violet, Violet, can you hear me?”

Her warm breath exhaled onto his face, her heart faint. She was dying. Tears blurred his eyes. He swallowed hard sorrow, terrified he’d lose her.

He snatched a sword then ran up the stairs two at a time and burst into the kitchen. If any man tried to stop him, he’d cut his head off.

He needed William. William could fly back to them back to the Soaring Phoenix to Doc. Doc could save her. He had to save her.

Chapter 18

Amadi skidded to halt and held Violet close to his breaking heart. The crew of the Soaring Phoenix stood in the kitchen, all armed and all vampires and all brothers.

They came.

They came to find him.

The cap’n hadn’t given up, just like Amadi knew he wouldn’t. Emotions flooded through him, robbing him of his voice, squeezing his throat.

Captain Kane O’Brien, Sean Mallory, and Ronan MacMillan all stood behind Doc, who knelt next to Dubois’s body. “Dead, cap’n. Drained.”

Finally, Amadi spoke. His voice was strained and a bit crusty. “Cap’n, Doc?”

The Cap’n raised his eyebrow. Perception reflected in his keen eyes. “And here I thought you’d need rescuing.”

Amadi could hear the pride and admiration rolling off his Irish lit. He’d be blushing inside if it weren’t for Violet. All that mattered was saving her. “Doc?” He couldn’t choked out the rest of his words or blink away the tears in his eyes.

Doc stood, and concern flooded his red eyes. “What de ye have dere, Amadi?”

“Violet. She’s…she’s…hurt.” Amadi wasn’t the strong master gunner, always so sure of himself. He was a man, panicked over losing the woman he loved.

Doc rushed over and examined the wound in Violet’s chest. “I’ve got to stop da bleedin’.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I need time, Cap’n. I’ve got to get her back to the ship, or she’ll die.”

Amadi held Violet tighter. “No.”

The cap’n tilted his head. “Sean, find William.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” Sean ran out of the kitchen. He always reminded Amadi of a fierce blond angel with his too-good looks, tall form, and fierce fighting skills.

The Cap’n clutched Amadi’s shoulder. “Your woman?”

Amadi nodded. “Aye.”

“Anyone else alive below?”

“No.” Amadi hardened his voice. “Da bitch’s dead.”

The Cap’n lifted an eyebrow. “Jacques’s sister?”

Hate lodged in Amadi’s throat and he couldn’t talk for several minutes. The bitterness blocked out all reason.

He gazed at the cap’n. “She was worse than Jacques.” His quiet voice was barely audible, but by the looks of his brothers, they heard.

Ronan clicked his tongue and shook his dark head. “So much evil in one family.” He held a sword in his hand, but he stuffed his right wrist into his pocket. He’d lost his hand in the last battle they’d fought against the demon Zuto. He’d been brooding last time Amadi saw him, never leaving his cabin. For him to leave honored Amadi.

“Da slaves?” Amadi licked his lips. “You didn’t—”

“They’re safe,” the cap’n said. “We will take them aboard the ship. They won’t be able to stay here. We’ll burn this place to the ground.”

Amadi nodded. “Good.” He couldn’t even muster a small smile. Defeating Celeste would mean nothing if Violet died. His world would end. He couldn’t imagine a world without his little truthful seer. A white woman sacrificed her life for him––a pirate vampire.

Sean rushed inside. “William’s outside.”

“Go back with Doc and her.” Cap’n tilted his head. “We’ll take care of this place. You won’t be much good here anyway, worrying about her.”

Amadi hated riding dragon style—he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t change into a bat and carry Violet. He’d do anything to save his woman––even ride a dragon.

He and Doc raced outside. Smoke burned Amadi’s eyes, and he choked. The smell of sulfur, burnt leaves, and wood filled the air. Everything was engulfed in flames—the barn, the sugarcane fields, the stables. The crackling flares’ heat turned the plantation into a raging inferno.

Amadi broke out in a hot sweat, and he could barely breathe. Tears streamed from his eyes from the vapors. How the hell could the slaves live through this?

But he trusted the cap’n. If the cap’n said the slaves were safe, they were safe.

Doc motioned as he sat across William’s large back. “Come on.”

Amadi climbed onto William. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

The dragon was big enough to accommodate all three of them. William had the gift of changing his body to any size he wanted. One of the many dragon magic gifts he possessed. William stretched out his wings then jumped into the smoky air.

Amadi pressed his knees against the dragon’s side. Wind and black smoke rushed over him, and he hacked, his whole body shaking. Violet gasped and moaned in his arms. He held her tight, afraid he’d drop her.

“William,” he hacked, coughing into his arm. “Get out of da damn smoke.”

The air changed from charcoal to clean sea. Amadi inhaled, clearing his lungs. The ocean spread out before him, and his heart swelled at the sight of the Soaring Phoenix anchored in their secret cove. The taste of freedom consumed him. He and Violet had escaped. “Hang on, Violet.” He petted her sweating head with his shaking hand. “We’re almost there.”

His voice died on his stiff lips.

But she didn’t answer.

William folded his wings to his body and stretched out his talons. Men moved out of the way, and only the stern was available. Amadi sucked in his breath, waiting for them to crash, but William smoothly boarded the sloshing ship.

Hannah, Kane’s woman, waited for them. “What happened?”

“’Tis Amadi’s woman. She’s wounded.”

She blinked, looking between Amadi and Violet. “Take her to my cabin.”

Amadi choked at her words and could only nod curtly. Hannah had always treated him as an equal; for her to offer hers and the cap’n’s cabin honored him.

“Come on.” Doc slid off. “Take her to da crew’s quarters.”

Amadi rushed after him, wedging him between the questioning crew. Violet’s face paled, and he strained to hear her breathe. She was dying. His heart weighed heavy in his chest. She couldn’t die.

Bitterness blazed through him, ripping away his hope. Slavery had robbed him of people he loved. “Don’t leave me.” His low voice trembled and faded.

He was surprised he had tears leaking from his eyes. He never cried. Never. How could this mere girl strip him of his hardened defenses?

Doc led him into the cap’n’s cabin. The smell of well-oiled wood and lemon permeated the room. He laid Violet on the neatly made king-sized bed. Doc rushed in, carrying his bag. Hannah trailed after him, carrying a bowl of water and rags.

“Amadi,” Hannah said. “Let us work on her.”

Amadi wanted to argue, but he did not have the medical knowledge that Hannah and Doc possessed, and he stepped aside. He paced the cabin, clenching his hand, never taking his eyes off Violet. Hannah cut away Violet’s bloody shift, revealing her perfect breasts, now coated with blood. Hannah wiped the wound clean, but blood leaked out. She placed pressure on Violet’s chest. “The bleeding has stopped.”

Amadi hurried to her side. “I can do dat.”

Doc glared. “Stay back.”

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs. “I can’t stand and do nothin’.”

“Aye, you can.” Doc stuck out his chin. “’Tis a serious wound. But her lips are not blue an’ I do not hear a cracklin’ sound.”

Hannah rested her hand on Violet’s forehead. “She doesn’t have a fever.” She wiped Violet’s face with the rag.

Doc smiled. “’Tis a good sign. We’ll done have to wait to an’ see how bad it is.”

Amadi’s stomach sank, and he broke out in a nervous sweat. “Wait and see?”

Doc mixed olive oil and beeswax and used a knife to spread the mixture onto the bandages. He placed the bandages around three sides of the wound.

“What are you doin’, Doc?” Amadi growled. “She’s dyin’.”

“You do not know this. Da bandages will seal da wound but allow air to escape an’ not return. The wound may heal on its own. You got to trust me on dis.”

Amadi stared down at Violet, her pale voice ripping his heart out. “What happens if she gets worse?”

Doc washed his hands. “Have faith, man. She’ll pull through.” His voice was confident, but his wary eyes gave away he was worried.

“Then what do I do?” Amadi felt more helpless than a flapping fish.

“Stay with her.” Hannah touched his arm. “She needs you. If there are any changes, come and get us.”

Doc gathered his bandages and gauze while Hannah picked up the bowl and rag. They gave him a brief nod as they exited the cabin, leaving him alone with Violet.

He approached the bed cautiously, afraid if he did anything rash, he’d wake her and she’d cry out. Her chest rose up and down. He sat in a chair and waited. Weariness beat down on him, but he refused to sleep. She needed him, and he’d be awake when she woke from her slumber.

Hours ticked by, and she slept. Every time she sighed or moved, fear seized him. He paced back and forth, hating the helplessness.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” Violet looked at him with a weak smile.

He rushed over to her and pushed her hair out of her face. “You’re awake?” His voice cracked.

“Aye.”

He stopped, not wanting to hurt her. “You’re in pain?”

She nuzzled closer. “A little. Mostly tired. Will you stay with me?”

“Always.” He kissed the tip of her pert nose and held her close. “I’ll be right here. Doc says the wound may heal on its own.”

“I heard.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You were awake?”

“In and out.” She lifted her hand.

He took it and rubbed her palm, then kissed the top of her hand. He put her palm on his chest, wanting her to feel his heart swelling against his ribs. “Did I tell you I love you?”

She didn’t respond right away, and he cursed himself for blurting his love out. What was he thinking? She’d escaped from the Sorcière de Mer. Why would she want to be with a vampire slave?

She squeezed his hand. “I know you do.” Her eyes flutter shut. “I love you. I loved you the minute I saw you. Just need to rest.”

Amadi’s jaw fell open and his muscles froze. He couldn’t believe his ringing ears.

Still stunned, Amadi sat next to her and guarded her. Every time she sighed or moaned, he tensed and fought to breathe. He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t eat. Waiting to see if she pulled through. Doc came in several times and checked her. Each time, he said it was good news. But what if he was wrong? Amadi wouldn’t be satisfied until she sat up and walked out of the bed.

Night turned to day. And still he waited. His muscles bunched, his gut balled into a knot, and his blood stilled. Live. She had to live.

Chapter 19

Violet opened her eyes. Her brain was still muddled. Where was she? She didn’t recognize the wooden ceiling nor had she ever slept in such a soft bed. She took a deep breath and inhaled fresh ocean air.

Someone held her hand. She turned her head to see Amadi kneeling and holding her hand against his head. Was he praying? “Amadi?”

He raised his head. Tears glistened in his eyes. “How are you feelin’?”

“Tired. Achy.” She rubbed her chest. “Celeste stabbed me.”

His eyes narrowed. “’Twas da last thing she ever did.”

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “Did I imagine it, or did you say you loved me?”

“No, you didn’t imagine it.”

His words spoke true. No lies hid behind his voice, and his aura was bright white.

She frowned. “Where are we?”

He smiled. “Aboard da Soaring Phoenix. You’re safe.”

They were finally free.

No more chains.

No more terror.

No more nightmares.

She stared at his hard face. He wasn’t a vampire. His eyes were back to their chocolate brown. He was a man used to a hard life, but she knew his heart. He was proud and true. He’d risked his life for her. No one had ever done this for her. “I love you.”

“I know.”

There was no arrogance in his husky voice, but there was something else, something that was music to her ears.

“Is this your cabin?”

He tilted his head back and laughed. “No, it belongs to da cap’n.”

Her heart squeezed at taking something away from her betters. More than once, she’d learned painfully what happened if she dared to step out of her place. She struggled to sit. “Won’t he be mad?”

He shook his head and pushed her gently back down. “His woman, Hannah Knight, said for us to use it until you’re well enough to move.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “To move where?”

“The crew’s cabin. Hannah has ordered another private quarter be made for us.”

She slid her hand down her cool face. “How long have I slept?”

He rubbed his thumb over her trembling hand. “A day.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve stayed with me this whole time?”

“I’d never leave you.” His husky voice sent chills down her back.

She smiled at the emotion in his brown eyes. “Or I you.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep, Violet. You need to rest.”

She yawned. “You’ll stay here?”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

His face was haggard, wrecked with worry. He needed to sleep as much as she did. She moved over. “Hold me, please.”

Amadi hesitated. “I don’t—”

She patted the bed. “Please. I need your arms around me.”

He sighed. “As you wish, sweet flower.” He took off his boots and climbed onto the bed next to her. His long, muscular body stretched out and emitted warmth. She laid her head on his chest, listening to his thumping heart. He wrapped his powerful arms around her, and once again, she felt safe, knowing no one could harm her, not with her brave vampire by her side.

She looked up at him and parted her lips. “Kiss me.”

“You’re not well enough.”

She slipped her hand around his neck. “Aye, I am.”

He tilted his head. His dark eyes were tenser than she had expected, as if he were afraid something bad would happen.

“I won’t break.” She pulled him toward her, eager to taste his masculinity.

He bent down and captured her lips with his. At first, he gave her tender pecks, but then his tongue delved deeper, demanding, masterful, and a delightful wash of pleasure pulsed through her, blocking out the memory of the Sorcière De Mer. Her heart pattered wildly, sending blood to her watery belly. The skin across her chest tightened and pulled itself into taut tiny peaks, not from pain, but from his branding kiss.

She moved her arms over his naked back, her fingers brushing over the slightest movement. His strength never failed to amaze her. He could crush her with one blow, but he was always gentle with her. Her dark gentle giant.

He pulled away. “I need to stop.”

“Why?” She couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice.

“Because I’m afraid I can’t control myself. I don’t want to hurt you. When you’re stronger—”

“You’ll love me.”

He kissed her forehead. “Every day.”

She inhaled his fragrant scent of the sea. His warm breath caressed over her head. ’Twas as if a breath of freedom rolled over her. Listening to his steady heartbeat, drowsiness took over her, and she snuggled deeper into the arms of the man she loved.

* * *

A week later, Amadi led Violet out of the cap’n’s cabin. Doc had sewn up her wound, and she could breathe easily, but her body still had dull aches. “Can we go topside?”

“Aye, Doc says you’re well enough.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose then smiled. “’Tis this way, my lady.” He put his hand on her lower back and maneuvered her out of the cabin. “Da Soaring Phoenix has sailed out to sea. Huntin’ for an uncharted island for da escaped slaves.”

Violet slowly climbed the stairs, not sure what to expect. But she was tired of staying in the cabin, no matter how nice it might be. ’Twas bigger than any room she’d ever had.

Blue sky and ocean air greeted her. She wanted to dance along the deck, but it was crowded with men, women, and children. The crew moved effortlessly around the freed captives, cleaning the ship, manning the sails.

“Dis is da first time these men, women, and children have walked around anywhere free.” Amadi motioned with his arm. “Men need to be free.”

Bitterness crept into his voice. She leaned her head against his arm. “And thanks to you, they are.”

“Amadi.” A crisp strong male voice made her shiver.

Violet turned and clutched Amadi’s arm.

Captain Kane O’Brien approached them. He wasn’t as tall as Amadi, but he walked with a commanding presence.

“Cap’n?”

“Looks like you’re feeling better, lass.”

He flashed Violet a warm smile that highlighted his handsome face. Even with the rugged scar down his right cheek, he was a man who must have left a dozen broken hearts behind.

Amadi put his arm around her. “She’s still a little weak.”

“I’m well. Thank you, Cap’n, for allowing me to recover in your cabin. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course, I did. ’Tis my pleasure.” He motioned to the sky. “William and Mariah are searching for an uncharted island to allow the slaves to live in peace. We will come by from time to time to ensure they are safe. No telling where the Fiery Damsel is.” His voice was riddled with authority, and this was a man used to his orders being obeyed.

“Aye, Cap’n.” Amadi shielded his eyes.

Violet looked up at the sky to see a large dragon flying through the clouds, not something she saw every day. She was still getting used to accepting a world of magic, darkness, and freedom.

“Amadi!” A high-pitched cherubic voice squealed.

Chloe ran down the deck with her arms stretched out. Amadi bent down and picked her up. “How are you doing today?”

“Fine. Hannah was showing me how she can move things with her hands!”

Hannah came up and laughed. “She’s a dearie.” She slipped her arms through the captain’s.

He frowned. “What things?”

“Oh, don’t be an old grump.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I parted the water so she could see the dolphins swimming next to the ship.”

The constant fear had left Chloe’s eyes, and her frail body was nice and plump like a four-year-old’s should be. “I want to go see Doc.” She kissed Amadi on the cheek.

He put her down, and she ran toward Violet’s healer.

Doc was a little shorter than Amadi and his face more withered. Gray strands intertwined in his dark hair. But ’twas those brown eyes, full of merriment, that always made Violet smile. She’d never had a healer who made her smile and laugh, even when she was in pain.

But the merriment left Doc’s eyes.

Amadi held up his hands. “Don’t glare at me, Doc. You said she could come up here.”

Doc scanned his gaze over her. “See she done gets to bed soon. Her color is still pale.”

Chloe hugged Doc’s leg. “Play with me, Doc.”

He lost his frown and lifted her into his arms. “I will, darlin’. I will.”

Amadi raised his eyebrow and gave Doc a glassy stare. “I’ll take Violet below to eat something. Will dat make you happy?”

Doc winked at Violet. “Aye, it would.”

Violet whispered in Amadi’s ear. “After lunch, I want to see our cabin. Can we?”

“Aye, we can.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the strain in his voice and the tightening of his arm. She wanted to be alone with him, away from the crew’s blatant stares of curiosity.

Chapter 20

Violet was surprised at the hanging drapes in the corner of the crew’s quarters. There was another one in an opposite corner. A hammock big enough for two hung between the posts. There was a trunk shoved against the wall, and a small lantern sat on a barrel. There was a soft sheepskin on the floor.

“Is this mine?” she asked shyly.

“No, ’tis ours. Mariah, a witch, cast a spell on dis, and the crew will not hear anythin’ while we are in here.”

Heat flared in Violet’s cheeks at his hidden meaning. But she wanted him. She placed her hands on his broad chest, enjoying the feel of the hard muscle beneath her touch. “Meaning?”

“Um, when you are well enough—”

“I’m well enough now, Amadi.” She licked his chest and felt him tremble. “Do not deny me.”

He pushed back her hair behind her ear. “You are a saucy wench.”

She leaned her head into his callused palm. “Only with you.”

He smiled and wrapped his muscular arms around her. She leaned her body against his and arched her back. He kissed her, and she held onto him tight, never wanting to lose him again. His heart beat as hard and as desperately as hers.

“Turn around,” he mumbled. “I want you.”

She turned, excitement, and fear pulsing through her veins. Amadi was a big man. What if she could not accommodate him?

He freed the ribbons on the back of her dress one by one, his fingers brushing against her. Her dress hung loosely, and he slowly lifted it over her head.

She wore nothing, but a shapeless cloud of linen. Heat swelled through her shaking body.

“More ribbons,” he mumbled.

Irritation flamed in his voice, but he gently undid the ribbons without tearing them. He slid the linen off her and kissed her shoulders. “Are you sure you want to do dis?”

His spicy breath rushed over her naked skin, and a slight shiver went from her shoulders down to her curled toes. “Aye,” she whispered, not sure if she spoke.

He gripped her shoulders, his hands shaking, and turned her around to face him. “You’re so beautiful. I have never seen such loveliness.”

She met his bold gaze and tilted her chin, trying to be braver than the fear pooling in her belly at standing stark naked in front of a man. She silently mouthed. “Thank you.”

His eyes dark with desire, Amadi removed his boots and slid off his trousers. Gloriously naked he stood before her. His skin was a glistening ebony contrast to the flickering light, and his wild black braids fell across his broad shoulders. The white-lined scars on his body didn’t take away from his beauty. They only made him more rugged. A warrior.

She lowered her gaze and froze.

He reached out and lifted her chin. “I will not hurt you, little flower.” He crossed his heart. “I promise.”

Trusting him, she stepped closer. He lifted her into his arms and kissed her possessively as he lowered himself onto the blanket. He laid her onto the blanket and covered her with his body, shielding her from any cold. But cold was the last thing she felt. Towering heat rushed over her, and Amadi ignited the flames as his hands explored her body, discovering every sensitive spot, stroking the fire of passion burning inside her.

“Spread your legs.” His husky voice sent both a thrill of impatience and a chill of anxiety through her.

Too caught up in feelings of countless sensations, Violet nodded.

Amadi kissed her neck and slowly moved down her sweltering body, his braids brushing over her hot skin. Between his lips and his hands exploring her body, rushes of pleasure swept over her.

He moved his hand down her stomach to her feminine curls where he inserted a finger, exploring her soft insides. She panted harder and harder. Amadi took one nipple into his hot mouth and gently laved her, but then his velvety lips suckled her harder and harder, sending lightning streaks of pleasure shooting through her body and throbbing between her legs.

Violet ran her fingers through his thick braids, arching her back so he could take more of her flesh in between his luscious lips. He left her greedy breast, and she moaned in disappointment. He licked and kissed down her quivering body until he came to her belly button, where he swirled his tongue, sending her off the edge into a whirlwind of bliss.

He knelt and ran his calloused hands down her quaking thighs then put them each astride his shoulders.

“My lord,” she whimpered. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” He blew air onto her curls.

She trembled, but when he kissed her soft mound, she cried out. He thrust his tongue into her feminine folds and licked and sucked her, sending blood thumping through her faster and faster until she straightened her legs, shuddered, and nearly wept with joy. “Amadi, please.”

“Such a temptress. But you’re not ready yet.”

Violet groaned in frustration.

Amadi slowly lowered her and stretched out on top of her, his flesh pushing against her thigh. “You’re tense.” He entered a finger and plunged it in and out, creating more intense sensations running through her. Another finger, and then another, stroking and stretching her slowly.

She couldn’t take it anymore and ran her fingers over his flesh, wanting to feel his length. He was huge, and a gnawing fear grew inside her heart. She knew the first time for any woman was painful, but she doubted all men were as big as Amadi. ’Twas not going to be pleasurable.

He sucked in his breath. “Violet.”

“Let’s do this.”

“You’re tensin’.” He pressed his thumb against her womanhood, stroking her.

“I can’t help it. You’re so big.” Fear crept into her voice.

“I’ll not hurt you. I promise.”

Truth echoed in his words, but she couldn’t shake the apprehension glued to her bones.

He widened her thighs then rested his hips against hers. The tip of his flesh pressed against her folds. The sensation of stretching and pain gripped her.

She couldn’t breathe, but then waves of pleasure poured through her. She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his muscles, needing to feel his strength.

Slowly, he edged into her core until her muscles accommodated him. When she tensed, he’d stop. He kissed her, and he used his thumb to rub her nipple. More pleasure seared through her.

Not able to shift or inhale, she stiffened. She could feel his powerful muscle inside her, constricting, and lengthening.

But Amadi pressed his thumb harder, and with the friction of flesh moving against flesh, the pain lessened, and another wave of sensations embraced her. She arched her hips and matched his rhythm. The more their hips thrust; a whirlwind of absolute ecstasy gripped her. “Harder!”

He didn’t answer, but instead of a steady rhythm, he slammed into her. The mixture of pain and pleasure sent every impulse inside her alive.

“Aye, aye!” She cried out and arched her back, pressing her breasts against his massive chest. A torrid climax surged through her. Nothing prepared her for this. Thousands of sensations scorching pleasure seized her and she screamed.

Amadi followed, his body thrust down, rigid and shaking, as he expelled his seed into her womb. He collapsed on top of her and laid his head in the crock of her neck. He panted hard, his heart beating as fast as hers.

“Are you among the living?”

“Barely.” He lifted his head. “I’ve never felt so much feeling. But then I’ve never made love to the woman who holds my heart.”

She taped her finger on his mouth. “Do you always talk like this?”

He sucked it. More pleasure pulsed through her still quivering body.

“No.” He glanced up at her with hooded eyes. “Only you bring out what’s buried inside me.”

His soft voice swelled the emotions inside her. She locked her legs around his still thrusting hips. “Never leave me.”

“Stayin’ with me won’t be easy.”

“Because you’re a vampire?”

“And an ex-slave.”

She frowned at the bitterness echoing in his voice. She clasped her hands on his cheeks. “You’re a free man, a man I want to stay with for the rest of my life.”

“The cap’n says the freed captives need a leader.” Wariness flickered in his eyes.

She cupped his cheeks. “You. He wants you to stay with them.”

He lowered and turned his head as if he were afraid to answer. “Only until they’re well enough to manage on their own. Some of them are too weak to build anythin’. They also need to be taught how to defend themselves. I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay with me.”

She ran her hands down his back and liked how he trembled beneath her touch. “Where would I go? You’re my life. Where you go, I’ll follow. Even if the slaves hate me.”

He planted kisses across her face. “You’re my woman. They’ll come to understand you and know what you did to help them gain their freedom. No one will hurt you. Not with me around.”

She dragged her fingers through his thick braids. “My fierce, protective, vampire pirate.”

His face softened, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me pleasure you one more time.”

“Only one more, sir?” She smiled wickedly and rubbed her foot along his leg.

His eyes shimmered with passion. “Aw, my demandin’ little woman. You’ll pay for this.”

She curled the tips of her mouth into a teasing smile. “I can hardly wait.”

With that, he kissed her again, and together they erased each other’s pain and created tantalizing memories that took her breath away.

* * *

If you liked Heart of the Vampire, then look out for Mate of the Vampire. This is Ronan’s story and you’ll meet his mate who is a mermaid! If you want to keep up with my releases, sign up for my newsletter, ML Guida’s Scroll. You can also check out my website at

Excerpt from Mate of the Vampire

April 1671

Soaring Phoenix

Ronan Macmillan leaned against the bulkhead, detesting the tied bandages on his stubbed wrist. Sometimes he swore he could feel his absent fingers and hand move. Hell, his palm even itched. Doc said it was phantom pains, an illusion—his mind hadn’t accepted that his right hand was gone.

Visions of the horrific island battle with the demon Zuto flashed through his mind. He couldn’t shake them. Zuto slicing off his hand. The grotesque spider. And his promise...oh his promise...

He hated that damnable demon and his blasted curses. Because of him, the crew turned into vampires during every full moon. If they didn’t feed, the thirst nearly drove them mad.

But now the demon had a new trick—one Ronan couldn’t refuse.

All he had to do was to find an undine, a water elemental, then hand her over to Zuto. How bad could it be? It’s not like the undine was human. The demon needed her blood, then he’d promised to restore Ronan’s hand. He could be a warrior again.

A cool sea breeze swept over his face, and salt tingled his lips. He turned away from his stump and slid it inside his pocket. The ocean stretched out for miles, and not a cloud marred the blue sky. He loved the sea, but how could he stay aboard the ship a cripple? He was a warrior, a pirate, not a deck swabber.

Kane motioned for him at the wheel. “I’ve ordered the men away from the stern.”

“Why?”

“Mariah needs to talk to you about what happened on the island.”

Blimey, did she know about the deal? He should have known. She was a witch—a powerful one, but he couldn’t admit it. Not yet, and he played dumb. “She bloody thinks I donna know what happened?” His raised his stump. “The damn demon cut off my hand.”

“Aye,” Kane agreed. “’Tis more to it than that. ’Tis Lark.”

Ronan scanned the ship but didn’t see his friend. “What about him?”

Kane clasped his shoulder. “A time spider snatched him, flinging him to a different time. We have no idea where he is. Or if he’s even alive.”

Ronan’s heart skipped a beat. “Another spider? By the gods, the first was terrible enough.” He forced himself to stand; brushing away Kane’s outstretched out hand. “I can stand on my own.”

Kane lowered his arm. “Mariah needs to talk to you. She thinks you might be the key in finding her brother.”

“Me? Why?”

“Bloody hell if I know.” Kane tilted his head. “Now go.”

Ronan wanted to argue, but the captain’s order was law and left little argument. Ronan sighed and headed to the stern.

Mariah waved at him to join her and William. He maneuvered between crewmen busy cleaning and repairing the ship. He couldn’t even hold a bloody mop and swab the deck.

Several men close to the stern stopped talking and working as he squeezed by. Kane might have ordered them away, but it didn’t curb their curious gazes. A five-point star had been drawn on the deck, and at each point, there was a bowl full with some kind of herb.

“Merci d’être venu,” Mariah said. “We need to talk.”

William stood behind Mariah. He wrapped his arms around her, then nuzzled the back of her slender neck.

She laughed. “William, stop!”

Ronan gritted his teeth and fought the urge to slam his fist into William’s lovesick face. He should be the one kissing Mariah. He’d have kept her safe, not galloping around trying to defeat a demon and his fierce spider. But no, she preferred a man possessed by a dragon spirit. Being around those two was like rubbing salt into his bleeding heart.

“What the hell do you want to talk about?”

His loud question made them stop.

Mariah stepped away from William and straightened her dress. William mumbled under his breath, but Ronan didn’t care. He shouldn’t have been so harsh, but there was only so much he could take.

“Ronan, when you came on board the ship, you were babbling about how to get Lark back.” Eagerness flashed in her big violet eyes. “Do you remember what Zuto told you?”

“Bits and pieces of an undine, but nothing clear.”

She slumped against William and a tear slid down her cheek. “Je Vois.”

A lump formed in his throat. He wanted to make her smile and give her hope, but he honestly couldn’t remember what Zuto had said. ’Twas all a blur. “I’m sorry.”

She stood straighter. “I also know about the deal.”

“What deal?” His shocked voice sounded like a little lad explaining to the baker how the cookies ended up in his pocket.”

She smiled and clasped his arm. “You were feverish when you came onto the ship and talked in your sleep, oui?

Ronan closed his eyes, and his heart quickened. Lord, stop. It was so damn hard to be around her, to breathe in her sensual scent, to experience her touch—but never her sweet kiss. “What’s this?”

“It’s a pentagram. I was able to cast a spell and go deeper into the incantation binding you. I know Zuto promised to make you whole again, but I need to know if he said how to get my brother back. Lark’s in danger. I can feel it. We have to rescue him soon, before ’tis too late.”

William clasped her hand and kissed her white knuckle. “We will. I promise.” He looked at Ronan, his eyes turning hard. “Why would you even think of making a deal with Zuto?”

Ronan’s heart beat harder, sending anger rushing through his veins. He clenched his fist, trying not to bash it into the judgmental, shape-shifting dragon’s smug face. He glared. “He didna give me much choice. ’Twas the deal or my life. Which would you have chosen, ye muttonhead?”

Flecks of yellow flickered in his William’s green eyes. “At least I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to sell my soul to the devil.”

Grand, he’d stirred the dragon Drakon’s anger. He was about to get his arse burned to a crisp. He’d had enough of this conversation. He motioned toward the drawing. “This says I should remain a cripple?” Bitterness crept into his voice.

“No.” Her voice softened. “But you need to understand something. Anytime blood is used, it becomes a powerful spell, not something to be taken lightly. Only magie noire requires the use of blood. Be careful in this deal, Ronan. Once you fulfill this promise, it cannot be undone.”

Ronan glared. “What if the binding spell would save your brother? Would you do it?”

“I would not want to do, but if it was the only choice...” She stuck her chin out in defiance. “Then oui, I would. I’d do anything to save Lark. He’s the last of my family.”

Ronan turned away. He understood desperation. He’d tried everything to save his parents and his younger sister, but the bloody Sassenach murdered his family. Pushing back the painful memories, he looked at each point of the star suspiciously. He’d had enough spells to last him a lifetime. “What do you mean?”

Wariness reflected in her beautiful eyes. “My magic revealed that he didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

He tensed. He should have known. Zuto was a liar. “And?”

“Unfortunately, I was not able to unravel what he has hidden, but you must be careful.”

“Thanks for your fortune telling. As if I didna know to be careful of that devil.” His voice came out harsh and louder than he expected.

Men ceased doing their chores, watching them with curious stares. The captain had stopped talking to Sean Mallory and now was looking their way. Sweat trickled down Ronan’s spine. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. He’d failed miserably and darted to the middle of the drawn star, trying to ignore the inquisitive stares.

“I fear the sword that severed your hand also makes you quick to anger.”

Ronan stiffened. “I’m not filled with hate and anger.”

Her features softened and she smiled. “No? I can see the anger in your eyes and hear it in your voice, oui?”

“’Tis no mystery, Macmillan,” William said. “You’ve been in a foul mood since we left the island.”

Ronan glared. “And you were as jolly as a leprechaun with a pot of gold when you were first transformed into a dragon?”

William shrugged. “I’ll not deny it. Will you admit to your bad temper?”

Ronan clamped his mouth shut.

“Vous arrêter deux!” Mariah clapped her hands. “This is not helping.” She pulled out a chain with a purple stone on it and hung it around Ronan’s neck.

Her caress and intoxicating lavender scent sent more shivers down his back.

“This is amethyst,” she said. “It contains the general power of healing and will protect you from any other evil spells.”

He rubbed the stone. “Blimey, why is it warm?”

“Because yesterday I boiled it in a pan of salt water, then left it out in the sun for one hour. The stone absorbs the sun’s rays, and this enhances its protective powers, so the stone remains warm. Not only will this protect you from incantations, but it will help heal your aura. The charge is good for one week.”

“Healin’ what?”

“Your aura.”

“I’m not interested in whatever the hell an aura is. I need my hand back.”

Mariah frowned. “You want to be a demon’s slave, oui?”

“No,” Ronan grumbled. “I donna. But neither do you. Zuto will trick you into believing we can get Lark back.”

“Je connais, but we must try.”

“Trust me, Ronan.” William clasped his shoulder. “The stones work. I know.”

Ronan remembered that after Zuto first cursed William his anger had been wound up tighter than a fisherman’s tangled net. He picked the stone off his chest and examined it. “Is this going to get me my hand back?”

“Ronan as I told you before. I am not sure I can heal your hand. I have never done anything like this before. I do not know if it will tell us how to rescue Lark. I feel your element is different. Love is driving your force. Romantic works are with water, and the water will help heal your soul.”

Ronan snorted. “Romance? That’s the last thing I want.” How could any woman replace Mariah?

Mariah narrowed her eyes. He looked away and refrained from any other comments.

“You must believe, Ronan. Or the magie will not work.”

“Aye, I believe.” He had to. He could care less about his soul, but his hand—he’d give anything to have it back.

Mariah looked at his right hand, her eyes filled with pity. He didn’t want her pity. He wanted her love.

William rubbed Mariah’s back. “Why are you so worried? Zuto can’t leave the island.”

“Oui, but he does not need to leave the island. His magie is already here.”

Ronan tensed. “You mean inside me?”

“Je suis désolé,” she whispered. She leaned over and patted his shoulder. “But I will do my best to combat the evil and keep him from controlling you.”

“What do you mean controllin’ me?”

“Zuto does not take bargains lightly, and he will push you to fulfill his request. I need to strengthen your stone.”

“I’m not gonna mate with any damn fish. ’Tis not dignified.”

“Asseyez-vous s’il vous plaît,” she gestured.

Ronan almost walked off, but he caught the captain’s eye. He didn’t look too pleased. Ronan sighed. He’d play along, but he was one step away from choosing the brig over this nonsense. He flopped down while William sat on the outside of the star.

“Mother Isis, I’ve need of you again. S’il vous plaît, écoutez-moi.” She raised the chalice and chanted in a language he didn’t understand. She tapped the cup with the dagger. At each point of the pentagram, she repeated the chant and tapped the chalice. She widened her arms and arched her back. “Come, Healing Mother, I ask for you to show us the way to find my brother and to heal Ronan Macmillan, servant of good. I beg of you to heal him.”

A pagan god? Ronan shook his head. This whole tale was unbelievable, so why not an Egyptian Goddess?

A wind caressed them like a blanket. The herbs spun around in the bowl.

Ronan tried to concentrate, but he broke out in a hot sweat. Perspiration slipped into his eyes, and his clothes stuck to his body like paint. He wiped his face on his sleeve.

Mariah spoke more gibberish, then Ronan’s stomach swayed. Bile burned in his gut, and for the first time since he’d been a young lad, he felt sea sick. What the hell was happening?

“Are you well? You’re turning green,” William asked, concern reflected in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Ronan muttered. But he was far from it. He couldn’t breathe, and his shirt itched, scratching his sweltering body. He yanked off his shirt, ripping the buttons, since he could only use one hand.

William gave him a curious look. “Ronan?”

“I said I was fine.” He rubbed his arm across his forehead. “Just hot.”

“Concentrate, both of you,” Mariah said. “Close your eyes.”

Ronan closed his eyes and forced himself to listen to Mariah’s sweet, alluring voice. She chanted and sang some of the words, luring him into a daze. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. And then, he didn’t want to. His muscles grew heavy, and he couldn’t move.

An inner voice whispered, “Sleep go to sleep.” Or was it Mariah?

He swayed back and forth to the rhythm of her voice. Tingles crept over his hot skin. All of a sudden, he couldn’t feel the rocking ship beneath him. ’Twas as if he were floating on air. A vision formed—or was it a dream? He flew above the ocean, skimming the foamy surface. Water sprayed onto his naked skin, cooling the heat boiling inside him.

An island appeared ahead. He didn’t know which island and didn’t care. But the closer he got, fear edged up his spine. He recognized the white sand, the trampled palm trees—’twas Zuto’s island. Anger rose inside him, burying his fear, and hate twisted his gut. He wanted to choke the life out of the demon.

But then the figure changed. ’Twas not a tall, looming male figure, but a much shorter one—a curvy one. Long blond hair cascade down a lass’s back. Her puffy blouse was pulled down, revealing creamy white shoulders, and her dress slit opened hinting at silky thighs. She stared at him with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He lost himself in those eyes—they were more mysterious than the deepest part of any ocean.

She parted luscious red lips, and desire filled him. He wanted to caress her sweet body, kiss those red lips.

Black fog seeped over the island, covering the woman. Ronan wanted to call out to her, but she disappeared. Suddenly, red eyes glared at him through the dark cloud. Blistering and twisting pain burned on his chest, as if the amethyst stone had melted into his flesh. Agony blazed down his right arm, and he couldn’t breathe. His blood burned. The stench of burning skin shot up his nose. Someone was screaming. He was screaming.

Pounding footsteps raced across the deck. “He’s on fire!” someone yelled. “William, what the bloody hell did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” William said. His voice sounded far away.

“’Tis the magie norie,” Mariah cried. Dread filled her French accent. “Zuto’s punishing him. Pull him out of the pentagram.”

Someone tackled him and pounded on him. “Jaayus! Macmillan! Macmillan, can you hear me?”

He knew that voice. Kane. Strong hands gripped his arms, pulling him to his feet, and he howled again. He panted and opened his eyes. Kane knelt next to him. The crew hovered around them, fear and worry filling their eyes.

“I am so sorry, Ronan.” Mariah knelt next Kane. Tears streamed down her face. “Zuto. He punished you for trying to break the spell.”

Ronan glanced at his body; his clothes were gone. His skin was blistered and burned. His damn stump was bleeding again. Blimey, was he dying?

He gripped the chain around his neck and yanked it. The silver chain broke. He threw it, and it slid across the deck. Then, with each ragged breath, the misery lessened, and his black and burnt skin healed. Roman examined his skin. It returned to its normal golden brown. “I will not wear that bloody stone again.”

“What the bloody hell happened?” Kane whipped off his shirt and dabbed Ronan’s face.

“Zuto prevented me from healing him. The dark magic of Coaybay is slowly taking his soul. Only true love can cure him.”

Ronan glared. “I’m not matin’ with any damn fish.”

Another stab of agony pulsed through him as if Zuto wasn’t finished punishing him. Ronan cried out, then passed out, dreaming of the comely lass.

* * *

Did you enjoy Heart of the Vampire? Want to read more about the Blood Brotherhood? Check out Mate of the Vampire! This one’s Ronan’s story and the first book of the mermaid sisters!

Excerpt of Mate of the Vampire

April 1671

Soaring Phoenix

Ronan Macmillan leaned against the bulkhead, detesting the tied bandages on his stubbed wrist. Sometimes he swore he could feel his absent fingers and hand move. Hell, his palm even itched. Doc said it was phantom pains, an illusion—his mind hadn’t accepted that his right hand was gone.

Visions of the horrific island battle with the demon Zuto flashed through his mind. He couldn’t shake them. Zuto slicing off his hand. The grotesque spider. And his promise...oh his promise...

He hated that damnable demon and his blasted curses. Because of him, the crew turned into vampires during every full moon. If they didn’t feed, the thirst nearly drove them mad.

But now the demon had a new trick—one Ronan couldn’t refuse.

All he had to do was to find a mermaid, a water elemental, then hand her over to Zuto. How bad could it be? It’s not like the mermaid was human. The demon needed her blood, then he’d promised to restore Ronan’s hand. He could be a warrior again.

A cool sea breeze swept over his face, and salt tingled his lips. He turned away from his stump and slid it inside his pocket. The ocean stretched out for miles, and not a cloud marred the blue sky. He loved the sea, but how could he stay aboard the ship a cripple? He was a warrior, a pirate, not a deck swabber.

Kane motioned for him at the wheel. “I’ve ordered the men away from the stern.”

“Why?”

“Mariah needs to talk to you about what happened on the island.”

Blimey, did she know about the deal? He should have known. She was a witch—a powerful one, but he couldn’t admit it. Not yet, and he played dumb. “She bloody thinks I donna know what happened?” His raised his stump. “The damn demon cut off my hand.”

“Aye,” Kane agreed. “’Tis more to it than that. ’Tis Lark.”

Ronan scanned the ship but didn’t see his friend. “What about him?”

Kane clasped his shoulder. “A time spider snatched him, flinging him to a different time. We have no idea where he is. Or if he’s even alive.”

Ronan’s heart skipped a beat. “Another spider? By the gods, the first was terrible enough.” He forced himself to stand; brushing away Kane’s outstretched out hand. “I can stand on my own.”

Kane lowered his arm. “Mariah needs to talk to you. She thinks you might be the key in finding her brother.”

“Me? Why?”

“Bloody hell if I know.” Kane tilted his head. “Now go.”

Ronan wanted to argue, but the captain’s order was law and left little argument. Ronan sighed and headed to the stern.

Mariah waved at him to join her and William. He maneuvered between crewmen busy cleaning and repairing the ship. He couldn’t even hold a bloody mop and swab the deck.

Several men close to the stern stopped talking and working as he squeezed by. Kane might have ordered them away, but it didn’t curb their curious gazes. A five-point star had been drawn on the deck, and at each point, there was a bowl full with some kind of herb.

“Merci d’être venu,” Mariah said. “We need to talk.”

William stood behind Mariah. He wrapped his arms around her, then nuzzled the back of her slender neck.

She laughed. “William, stop!”

Ronan gritted his teeth and fought the urge to slam his fist into William’s lovesick face. He should be the one kissing Mariah. He’d have kept her safe, not galloping around trying to defeat a demon and his fierce spider. But no, she preferred a man possessed by a dragon spirit. Being around those two was like rubbing salt into his bleeding heart.

“What the hell do you want to talk about?”

His loud question made them stop.

Mariah stepped away from William and straightened her dress. William mumbled under his breath, but Ronan didn’t care. He shouldn’t have been so harsh, but there was only so much he could take.

“Ronan, when you came on board the ship, you were babbling about how to get Lark back.” Eagerness flashed in her big violet eyes. “Do you remember what Zuto told you?”

“Bits and pieces of a mermaid, but nothing clear.”

She slumped against William and a tear slid down her cheek. “Je Vois.”

A lump formed in his throat. He wanted to make her smile and give her hope, but he honestly couldn’t remember what Zuto had said. ’Twas all a blur. “I’m sorry.”

She stood straighter. “I also know about the deal.”

“What deal?” His shocked voice sounded like a little lad explaining to the baker how the cookies ended up in his pocket.”

She smiled and clasped his arm. “You were feverish when you came onto the ship and talked in your sleep, oui?

Ronan closed his eyes, and his heart quickened. Lord, stop. It was so damn hard to be around her, to breathe in her sensual scent, to experience her touch—but never her sweet kiss. “What’s this?”

“It’s a pentagram. I was able to cast a spell and go deeper into the incantation binding you. I know Zuto promised to make you whole again, but I need to know if he said how to get my brother back. Lark’s in danger. I can feel it. We have to rescue him soon, before ’tis too late.”

William clasped her hand and kissed her white knuckle. “We will. I promise.” He looked at Ronan, his eyes turning hard. “Why would you even think of making a deal with Zuto?”

Ronan’s heart beat harder, sending anger rushing through his veins. He clenched his fist, trying not to bash it into the judgmental, shape-shifting dragon’s smug face. He glared. “He didna give me much choice. ’Twas the deal or my life. Which would you have chosen, ye muttonhead?”

Flecks of yellow flickered in his William’s green eyes. “At least I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to sell my soul to the devil.”

Grand, he’d stirred the dragon Drakon’s anger. He was about to get his arse burned to a crisp. He’d had enough of this conversation. He motioned toward the drawing. “This says I should remain a cripple?” Bitterness crept into his voice.

“No.” Her voice softened. “But you need to understand something. Anytime blood is used, it becomes a powerful spell, not something to be taken lightly. Only magie noire requires the use of blood. Be careful in this deal, Ronan. Once you fulfill this promise, it cannot be undone.”

Ronan glared. “What if the binding spell would save your brother? Would you do it?”

“I would not want to do, but if it was the only choice...” She stuck her chin out in defiance. “Then oui, I would. I’d do anything to save Lark. He’s the last of my family.”

Ronan turned away. He understood desperation. He’d tried everything to save his parents and his younger sister, but the bloody Sassenach murdered his family. Pushing back the painful memories, he looked at each point of the star suspiciously. He’d had enough spells to last him a lifetime. “What do you mean?”

Wariness reflected in her beautiful eyes. “My magic revealed that he didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

Dear Reader

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed Heart of the Vampire. Slavery has been an evil part of our history and I didn’t want to sugarcoat it. Like I mentioned earlier, the villainess was based on Annie Palmer, the White Witch of Rose Hall. Johnny Cash wrote a song about Annie and you can visit Rose Hall on Jamaica, which is still been on my bucket list.

If you want to keep reading the Blood Brotherhood, watch for Mate of the Vampire. It will be Ronan’s story and I will be writing the next three books which will all be about three sisters who are mermaids.

I would love to know what you thought about Heart of the Vampire! Leave a review and let me know.

If you want to keep up with my books, sign up for my newsletter!

I’ll see you soon!

ML Guida

About the Author

Award Winning Author M.L. Guida loves science fiction and the paranormal. From Star Trek to Dark Shadows to Supernatural, she fell in love with things that go bump in the night. But it was the heroes, she loved the best. No matter what happened, those characters never gave up. Now, her heroes are following their footsteps. Whether it's a shape shifter from outer space or a vampire from the past, her wounded heroes always find a way to conquer battles and win the heart of the feisty heroine. Because even in a world of darkness, true love survive.

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Also by ML Guida

Blood Brotherhood

Sin of The Vampire

Shadows of the Vampire

Mate of the Vampire

Claim of the Vampire

Destiny of the Vampire

Bears of Aria

Walfea

Vaughn

Tash

Dragons of Zalara

Madness Unleashed

Madness Unhinged

Madness Unmasked

Madness Unbalanced

Vampires on Holiday

A Vampire’s Wish

A Vampire’s Gift

A Vampire’s Vow

Paranormal Dating Agency

Eye of the Tiger

Another Tiger Bites the Dust

Magic New Mexico/Magical Shifters

Touch of Curiosity

Touch of Madness

Touch of Darkness

The Touch of the Dragon

Angels of Death

Betrayal

Deception

Punishment

Cupid