A Pirate's Agony (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix Book 3) (8 page)

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.

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. His torn thigh and calf muscles twisted and melded together as if someone had taken a needle and sewed them together. ’Twas Violet’s blood. Each time, he took a step a dull pain throbbed in his knee, but at least he could walk.

He winced. “Holy Hell.” Rocks cut into his bare feet. He glanced below him. Smeared blood left a trail of breadcrumbs for the bastards to follow, but he didn’t have time to bind his feet.

Why had he taken so much of Violet’s sweet blood? He’d lost control. But ’twasn’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 his throat tightened. 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. A glowing dim light moved closer and closer.

He picked up his pace and ignored his knee, trying to stay ahead of the pursuing light. 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.”

Amadi’s beating heart rumbled and blood drummed between his temples. Dubois sounded murderous. Amadi couldn’t take his time inhaling between the tunnels. He needed to move. Now.

Hoping he made the right decision of choosing the tunnel that lead to the sea, he barreled straight ahead. The posse would have to split up to follow him. If ’twasn’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. He wouldn’t leave her.

The middle tunnel’s ground went from rocks and pebbles to smooth dirt. For once, something went right. 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.

“More blood!” Someone shouted. “They’ve taken the middle tunnel.”

“The
Maîtresse
said to take the buck alive,” Dubois ordered.

“What about Violet?”

“She said Violet was mine to punish.” Dubois’s voice 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.

“
Baron Samedi
,” Amadi said.

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. God, they were trapped. He’d picked the wrong damn tunnel.

He laid Violet on the ground and pushed on the stone door. He rammed his shoulder, but only got an explosion of pain for his trouble. He pushed and pounded. His muscles strained, and even with his vampire strength, he could not budge it. Sweat poured down his back and stung his eyes.

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. “Go.”

“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,” he moaned. 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
,” she said, her voice louder than he’d expected.

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. Rain pelted onto Amadi.

“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.

Amadi had to get her out of here so she could rest. He could keep up with the crazy pursuit, but she wouldn’t.

Footsteps ran toward them. Dubois and three other men hurried and fired their pistols.

Violet motioned with her hand. “You better—”

More pistols fired. Sulfur exploded around them. Suddenly, Violet screamed and fell, clasping her arm.

Amadi grabbed her before she hit the ground and carried her out of the tunnel. He stepped out and used his body to shield her as he raced 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, and soon, his vampire strength would be gone. He raced across the graveyard to another mausoleum, twice as big as the last one. The walls crumpled, and the angel in front of it had a broken wing. 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. He needed to see to her arm before she bled to death.

“Spread out, men,” Dubois said. His snarling voice sent Amadi’s heart racing.

The bastard was practically right next to him.

Amadi leaned against the mausoleum, panting. The sound of the men’s voices and crunching footsteps ordered him to move. But where? His feet were screaming with pain, and he held a bleeding woman in his arms. 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 Capt’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 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,” someone yelled.

“I heard something,” Dubois ordered. “They’re here. Search for ’em.”

Dubois was close, too damn close. 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 whispered.

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.