Alphas of Black Fortune Complete Series (8 page)

If he was being honest with himself, his confidence had flagged during the storm. Kelly knew that he had only been seconds away from changing course, as Cressida screamed at him and the winds threatened to rip his beloved ship apart. He liked to think that he was a brave man, but often bravery comes with a price. Loved ones, scruples, life.

He knew too that he would have changed course not for his ship, in the end, or for the men in his crew, the men of his den, but for Cressida herself. He could not have forgiven himself if she had died because he was too stubborn to give up his dreams. That would have only poisoned those dreams for him, forever. Still, it seemed he had lost her anyway. He knew that too, when Reza told him to stay the course. The man had refused to help or guide in any way for months. Something must have changed his favor, and Kelly knew of only one something capable of so turning a man’s mind from hatred and revenge to generosity. A woman. The right woman.

And Kelly knew it was his own fault. He’d been stupid, a bit desperate with wanting her, unable to resolve for himself which was more important to him in the moment: getting the jewel, or getting her. Perhaps it was better this way, then. She had made the choice for him. And the storm had reminded him that there were bigger, more important things in this world than one human woman, and certainly than his small feelings. He vowed to redouble his efforts for the den, and forget the girl.

Easier said than done. Even as she smiled up at him, as the men whooped and cheered upon espying that tiny speck of an island in the distance, Kelly wanted to grab her and crush her to himself and kiss the daylights out of her. He wanted to share his victory with her. He wanted to claim her, mark her, and never share her with any man ever. Despite his previous proposal, he was not inclined to share, in general, anything. He thought perhaps the sea and the bear in his heart had driven him to it, to considering that she could lie with him and with the tiger, and they might survive it.

But no. It was impossible. And she’d chosen the tiger.

And, Kelly reminded himself, he had the women and children of his den to take care of, to provide for, to love. Cressida was human. She could not possibly have satisfied him in the long run. He doubted very much she would manage to satisfy Reza for long either. She was a good girl, in fact the best that Kelly had ever known, but still human in the end. Weaker, softer, and without the wildness in her heart to match the beast in his. Yes, it was better this way, Kelly thought. Much better for him.

He tried to put it from his mind, rallying the men to prepare as the island grew larger and larger upon their approach. What was left of the den would stay with the ship, working to set her to rights, while Kelly would go ashore with the tiger and Cort and Cressida, and perhaps one or two more for security’s sake. Despite having Reza with them, there was no way to know what to expect, not from the island itself or its inhabitants. Reza had been gone, after all, for years. And savages were never to be trusted anyway.

Kelly felt a thrill deep in his heart once they were finally seated in the pram and the lads were lowering it from the top deck to the waves. Despite the heat, Kelly had pulled on his heavier overcoat, was armed with pistol and rapier, and had the map tucked safe against his breast, in the inside pocket of his coat. The wind was strong enough that he’d left his wide-brimmed hat behind, and the feel of the breeze ruffling through his hair was a welcomed change to the stillness of the air aboard the ship, with the sails still down for patching. He joined Cort in the middle of the pram, Cressida seated at its prow and Reza at the tiller aft, and together they rowed towards shore. A second pram followed, carrying Harry, Fat Tom and Esterbrook.

The island itself was small, a lone mountain peak thrusting up out of the sea, radiant in the variant colors of life, white at its beaches blending into lush green treetops and the bold black stone of its apex. Kelly imagined an entire mountain range below the water around them now, with this island its highest point.

As they rowed, he couldn’t quite help watching Cressida at the prow before him, the sunlight striking her gorgeously in shades of white and gold, how the breeze whipped through the long honey lengths of her hair. It stirred desire in him again, but he banked it down.

“We will find my people half a day’s walk inland,” Reza said.

Kelly nodded. “And what do you think they will make of us?”

“Enemies,” he replied simply. “But I will treat for you. Do not take a weapon to hand, ever. They won’t understand you, and they will fear you. I will do what I can.”

“And they’re all like you?” Cressida asked him. “Tigers?”

Kelly glanced over his shoulder in time to see Reza smile fiercely. “Yes.”

“I have a strong aversion to being eaten,” Kelly muttered.

“Then do as I say,” Reza replied.

Kelly felt a spark of temper light into his veins, but he fought it back. They were moving into the barbarian’s territory now, and he knew well enough not to further alienate him before they’d even finally gotten him to be of some use. Let them get past the tiger people, get the jewel and leave the island. Kelly very much doubted that Cressida had thought so far ahead with this as to imagine
staying
on the island with Reza and his people. She was too much a modern woman for that. He might have her as his own, after all. No, he told himself to put that aside again.

In the shallows, Kelly climbed out of the pram and went to the prow, lifting Cressida out as well to wade with her in his arms to the beach. She made no protest, though Kelly could sense that it was pissing off the tiger to see her so curled up against him, which he found incredibly satisfying. He set her on the sand and then waded back to help Cort and Reza drag the pram to the shore, bolstered by the tide. Harry, Fat Tom and Esterbrook followed shortly, and Kelly turned to survey the beach.

It was wide and white and gorgeous. Kelly thought perhaps it was the most beautiful beach he’d ever seen. More beautiful than the Bahamas or any of the little islands that dotted the Caribbean. The only sight, he thought, that would have been more beautiful to him was the rocky, unforgiving beach of his home in England. Though his legs were unsteady on the land after such a long time at sea, his heart sang at the feel of solid ground beneath his feet at last. The way that Cort sank down to his knees in the sand, the tide lapping gently at his legs, Kelly thought perhaps they were all feeling the same relief.

Except Reza, who seemed to take in the beach and the jungle beyond with a look on his face of suspicion and doubt. Not a good sign.

“This way,” the man muttered, waving them onward.

He led, and Kelly followed with Cressida at his side, Cort and Harry and the others bringing up the rear. Up through the dunes to the crest of the beach and on, as the landscape changed from soft sand to harder earth, and little scrub bushes and skinny trees began to sprout at their feet. The tree line of the jungle was a thick gnarl of green vines and sturdy tree trunks, heavy laden palm fronds and swollen exotic branches. Cort drew a fat blade from his hip to begin hacking away at the mess of it, but Reza held up his hand to stop him, and instead ducked agilely through the wall of nature and began gently pulling vines and branches aside to clear them a way through.

“The island is our house,” he told them. “We do not knock her down. We would only have to wait for her to rebuild itself. Be gentle with her limbs.”

While Kelly appreciated the sentiment, it made their movements a slow effort. He thought perhaps that this was done on purpose on the tiger’s part, but found he had no recourse. And as they passed under the canopy of the jungle, the heat of the beach began to ebb, cooled by the shade and freshened by all the ripe green things around them. He began to understand why Reza referred to the island with a woman’s pronoun. Life was everywhere, buzzing and hopping and slithering and growing.

They stopped to rest where a small brook trickled fresh water between the roiling roots of the tallest trees that Kelly had ever seen. The water was also the freshest, the crispest that he could remember having ever tasted. They gathered there, drinking from their cupped hands and splashing water on their faces. Cressida dashed it across her arms, cleaning herself, and her throat, and Kelly couldn’t quite help himself watching as rivulets dripped down the edge of her blouse and into the exquisite crevice between her breasts. He wanted to lick it from her skin, but pushed those thoughts away and drank until the dryness of the salty air aboard the ship had finally fled his mouth.

A brightly colored butterfly went pinwheeling through a slat of sunlight by his head, and Kelly lifted a hand, quietly delighted when the butterfly settled for a moment upon his fingertip.

Its wings opened and closed ponderously, speeding motes of what Kelly couldn’t help but think of as butterfly dust into the air. He thought then that perhaps this was the paradise that men in his part of the world had lost and seemed to be forever mourning. What an incredible secret to know that it yet existed here.

A rustle in the underbrush startled the butterfly and it leapt from Kelly’s finger to go winding off. He turned his head, dropping his hand to the guard of his rapier, and straightened to his feet as Reza stepped towards the noise, a hand up to stall them even as his men formed at Kelly’s back, ready for a fight. Even Cressida stepped back to Kelly’s side, eyes wide as she waited.

A heavy tangle of fronds eased aside and a man came forward to meet Reza, the two eyeing each other with what Kelly described to himself as trepidation; another bad sign. They were of a kind, though; he could see that immediately. The same slender build, rich brown skin and dark hair, broadly set features and delicately sharp eyes. The other man was dressed in simple undyed fabric, a make that Kelly couldn’t name, perhaps of the island’s own design. Trousers that stopped just below the knee, and no shirt, but around his neck a wreath of leaves and other assorted items. Glass beads and stones, and Kelly thought he saw a tooth or two in there, but from what sort of creature he couldn’t say. If this man and Reza were not kin, they were certainly both of the island, and when Kelly lifted his head a little to sniff at the breeze, his nose caught the same scent from them both. The same flavor of scent, at least. Great cat.

Reza looked back at Chaiya, the two locked in a contest of wills, and knew that he could not break eye contact with the man first. It was a kind of ruinous destiny that Chaiya was the first of them he would meet. Son of his father’s rival, they had hated each other fiercely for most of their youth. And of course, while Reza had been away, Chaiya had risen in status within the tribe. The wreath he wore was a symbol of his prowess as a hunter, as a warrior. It was the wreath that Reza himself had always imagined he would wear by now.

But instead he’d been made a slave. And now here they were, Chaiya in his wreath and Reza in the vestiges of his pride, each willing the other to look away first.

“You have been gone a long time,” Chaiya said quietly. “And you return with demons.”

“They’re not demons,” Reza replied. “Just men.”

Chaiya bared his teeth in an unkind smile. “One of them is not a man at all, Reza.”

Reza didn’t rise to the bait, though he felt the beast in his heart awaken. “They seek the jewel. Let them try and fail. They will not harm anyone. They’ve brought me home.”

“You will stand for them?” Chaiya arched an eyebrow.

Reza nodded. “I want to see my family, Chaiya.”

At that, Chaiya looked away. Reza’s heart began to beat loudly in his ears. He took a step towards Chaiya and said again, “I want to see my family.”

“Dead,” Chaiya said, and when he looked again at Reza, there was sympathy in his eyes. “When they took you. I’m sorry. Your father was killed in the fighting, and your mother died in her grief shortly thereafter.”

“And Kamala?” His little sister.

The hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Chaiya’s lips. “She lives. She is my wife.”

Reza gritted his teeth, anger flooding through him. Kamala had better have
chosen
Chaiya or Reza was now determined to rip his head from his shoulders. But he clenched his fists and set the rage aside, nodding. “I want to see her.”

“If these people bring danger to the tribe, you will die with them,” Chaiya told him. “My father is now the chieftain. He has decreed all foreigners shall be put to death. You will be all that stands between his law and these people.”

Reza’s gut twisted. Sajja, Chaiya’s father, bore him no love. “I understand.”

He felt Cressida and the pirates stirring at his back, wondering what they were saying. When Chaiya turned to lead them through the jungle and towards the tribe, Reza turned to look at them.

“We are welcome,” he said simply.

“What was that about?” Cressida asked, stepping away from the others to come to his side.

“He warns me that I will be killed if any of you cause trouble.”

She frowned. “We won’t cause trouble, Reza.”

No
, he thought,
but trouble loves you, it seems, as much as I do.
He didn’t say as much, just nodded and turned to follow Chaiya. The others fell in behind them, Cressida walking close enough that her arm brushed his a few times.

As they walked, he explained to them as briefly and succinctly as he could how to interact with the tribe. That none of them should speak, obviously, because they did not know the language. That none of them should look too long at the tribal women. That Cressida should never find herself alone with any of the tribal men. Always eat and drink what is offered. Do not touch things or people unless invited and, even then, use caution. Reza promised to negotiate their passage beyond the village and deeper into the jungle as quickly as he could. He wanted them to linger no more than was absolutely necessary.

Even Cressida, he realized, was both a danger to his people and in danger when among them. That was not a thing he had thought of before, and it hurt his heart to think too deeply on it now. Home was so close he could taste it. He wanted to hug his sister and smell the wood fires and remember what it meant to be loved and cherished and to have a place in the world. He couldn’t let himself imagine that place now with Cressida occupying it as well. He didn’t know what it would look like, if it could look like anything, but he wasn’t willing to imagine her
leaving
him either. He could not imagine lying in his hut here without her. He could not pretend to himself that spending nights without her wrapped about him, without the possibility of sinking into her in the mornings, before the work of the day, and again in the evenings, after the songs of the sunset, did not stir in him a profound longing for simpler times. Nothing, it seemed, was ever so simple anymore as want or not want, as happy or unhappy. Perhaps there wasn’t even peace to be found on this island any longer.

The village was deeper in the jungle than it had been before, but it looked much unchanged despite the setting. As they passed beneath an eave of green branches boosted up with a wooden trellis, the village sprawled before them, worked into a natural clearing in the landscape. Thatched-roof huts and smoking fires in stone circles, a vibrant garden shared by all and a small waterfall spilling fresh water into a pool to the North, where women were washing laundry and cleaning weapons, or preparing food for supper. The scents of spice and smoke and crisping meat floated on the breeze, and Reza found his mouth watering expectantly.

Chaiya led them through the activity of the village, ignoring as people stopped to stare, both at Reza and his pale companions. The chieftain’s son led them to the largest of the huts, one built with multiple rooms and constructed in a place of honor in the middle of the village. The chieftain’s hut. They filed dutifully into the hut’s largest room, where mats were set down for sitting and a low table took up much of the room’s space. This table, Reza knew, was where the elders sat and made decisions, shared stories and experiences, and educated the young.

Sitting on a mat at the head of the table, an earthenware pot of hot water nearby him for tea, was Sajja, chieftain of the tribe. He was much older than Reza remembered him being, silver-haired and craggy-faced, shoulders hunched beneath a cloak of boar skin. His dark eyes swept assessingly over Reza, and then the rest of them.

“They’ve come for the jewel,” Chaiya told his father. “And Reza has returned to us.”

“Take the pale ones and feed them,” Sajja said, shoulders shifting beneath his great cloak. “And Reza, come sit with me. We will talk.”

Reza didn’t know what to make of this, but he turned to Cressida and Kelly. “They will give you food. The chieftain wants to speak to me.”

“Are you going to be all right?” Cressida asked worriedly.

He nodded and gave her a bit of a smile. “These are my people. I’ll be fine. Remember what I told you, all of you. I’ll see you soon.”

He felt like he should kiss her goodbye, but he didn’t dare. Not with Sajja and Chaiya present, and not with Kelly looking on. He had to take more control of the situation first, more power before he could be so bold. He touched her shoulder, though, gave it a warm, brief squeeze, and nodded to Chaiya.

“Go with him.”

She looked at him for another moment and he felt her eyes trying to pry into his mind, perhaps to read his heart in some way. Then she nodded and they all went, leaving Reza alone with Sajja in the hut.

“You return to us at an opportune moment, son of Ruang Sak,” Sajja murmured, tilting his head invitingly. “Sit.”