Mistress of the Stone (28 page)

He rubbed the swollen ridge of his shaft against her warm slick skin then pushed, slowly but deliberately, parting her so gently that she didn’t realize the intrusion until he was all the way in.

Xander rocked against her, long slow strokes that went deeper with each thrust. She arched her back, meeting his strokes with her own. He grasped her by the bum, grinding himself against her until he thought they were one.

God help him, how could he let her go?

As if she heard him, she seized his face with both hands and kissed him deeply, her tongue reveling inside his mouth, her breath hot and moist. She cried out, her climax taking her by surprise as he thrust harder, faster so that he could join her.

But he couldn’t. He had made a promise. He couldn’t plant her with a babe, not if he couldn’t be there to provide for them.

Xander pulled out, grabbing his rod, now thick with ache and need. He rolled to his side, pumping it several times, spilling his seed onto the ground with a hoarse grunt. He lay there like a boneless mass, breathing heavily, the shudder of climax stealing his strength and restraint.

Luísa pressed against him, her body still slick and hot. “Are you all right?”

He remained silent until he could catch his breath, but he wouldn’t look at her. He hadn’t the courage for that.

“Xander.” She breathed his name more than said it.

He turned away from her. “It’s getting late, luv. We need to get started.”

He handed Luísa her clothes and dressed without another word. The less said the better. The thing he dreaded most was nearly at hand.

“First you make love to me and now you treat me like a stranger. Surely, I mean more to you than that?”

“Aye, luv. You mean the world to me.”

“Then why so somber after all we’ve shared?” She reached up and straightened the collar of his shirt.

He pulled her against his chest and kissed her so fiercely she nearly swooned in his arms.

She staggered back. “That was some kiss. You’d think it was our last on this earth.”

“I wanted you to remember it.”

“I remember all your kisses with equal pleasure, sir.” Her mouth quirked into a radiant smile, but it dissipated as she studied his face. “
Dios mío
.” She staggered back. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”

He ignored her question, pushing a low hanging vine out of the way and pointing to a narrow path. “The boat is hidden on the shore, but we need to be underway while the tide is out.”

Xander strode forward, but Luísa grabbed him by the arm. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He hung his head, refusing to look at her. “I have to stay.”

“For God’s sake. Why?”

“Someone needs to keep Saint-Sauveur busy until the
Coral
reaches open waters.”

“But—”

“I’ll not be welcomed aboard your father’s ship. An Englishman. A werewolf. I’m an abomination to their eyes.”

Her eyes flooded with tears. “You have to come with us.”

Xander shook his head. “My place is here, Luísa, for as long as my sister is cursed. It was my fault she came to be here.”

“Your fault? She said no such thing.”

“The first time I changed, I was only seventeen. Sibyl was twelve. It came upon me so suddenly, I didn’t know what was happening. In my confusion, I killed my mother’s maid.” Daltry paused, his expression, a mix of pain and grief. “I didn’t mean to kill her. I didn’t mean to…” He stared down at Luísa. “My father pulled his matchlock off the mantel and lit it, aiming it straight at my heart. Out of nowhere, Sibyl jumped in front of me, forcing my father to stand down.”

He exhaled with a shudder then pulled out Sibyl’s abandoned rope belt from a pocket. “Father ordered me from his house that very instant. I’ve never gone back. For weeks, I wandered the streets of Cambridge, hiding whenever I felt the change coming upon me. Somehow Sibyl tracked me down. She brought me food, clothes and coin. When I learned of an island where only werewolves lived I said goodbye to my little sister, knowing she’d be better off without me.” He huffed. “I should have known better. The little wench followed me here. It took her nearly three years to find me. She was but a child, alone and friendless, but an old woman took pity on her. It was she who convinced the captain of the ship to take her aboard.”

“A sea witch?”

“Aye. No ship that harbors a sea witch would deny her request. But it took many months before she discovered my whereabouts and many more before they reached these waters. The hag raised her as a daughter and taught her the ways of sorcery. Sibyl was a woman grown by the time she arrived. She never gave up her quest to find me.”

Luísa put her hands on his. “She said she wanted to take care of you.”

A sad smile grew on his lips. “Aye. That she did. But that godless bastard, Saint-Sauveur, was full of lust for her and thought to take her as his mate.” His forehead creased into a scowl. “I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.”

“It’s not your fault, Xander. Sibyl doesn’t blame you. I know she doesn’t.”

“’Tis enough I blame myself.”

“I wish I could help you, and her.”

He shook his head. “I could never get you into that crypt now. The tomb will be guarded day and night. But there will be other blood moons, moons when they might not expect you.”

Luísa nodded, lifting his hand to her lips. “You know I would come. I want to help her.”

“Then let me steal you away for now and pray for another chance.”

They hurried to the edge of the tree line. The beach lay ahead, deserted save for the long shadows of palm trees of a waning moon.

Xander pointed to a broken down pier. “Below the pylons is the boat. It’s well hidden behind the timbers of the pier.”

“And Papa?”

“We get you aboard the
Coral
first, luv, then I’ll come back for the Captain.”

She grabbed him by the wrist. “You promise?”

“I promise, dearest. There’ll be no more lies between us.”

They took a step forward and a flutter of wings rustled behind them; a flock of sleeping birds had been flushed from their roosts. Xander grabbed Luísa by both shoulders, and they crouched to the ground.

In the distance she heard the lumbering flap of bellows. Bellows? In the sky? Only one creature made that sound. And the night sky was filled with the flap of wings.

Xander froze, clutching her so tightly she squirmed in his grip.

“What is it?” she whispered. “Do you think Shadrach has come back?”

He stared at the sky, the stars blotted out by black shadows. His mouth curled into an angry sneer and he cursed his luck. “Bloody hell.” He helped her up, shoving her back into the brush. “Listen carefully, luv. No matter what happens or what you hear, you run. Understood? You run as fast and as hard as you can back to Sanctuary.”

“But Xander—”

“No time, Luísa.” He pushed her toward the east. “Run!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

The sky was littered with gargoyles. Huge, hulking moveable mountains, darkening the stars beneath wings that thrashed in violent upheaval. The guardians of the night were on them at once, their grunting barks reverberating through the jungle forest in search of their prey. Luísa wasn’t even sure if Xander was still with her until she heard him shout.

“Run under the tree canopy. They can’t maneuver through the bush. They’ll wait until we’re out in the open.”

The gargoyles hunted with relentless determination, jabbing through the vernal canopy, plucking out great clawfuls of branch and bramble in hopes of flushing out their prey.

Luísa and Daltry kept to the thick of the jungle. It slowed the gargoyles only a little as their heavy clawed feet pounded the treetops, scaring off sleeping monkeys and roosting birds. They rushed to ground, panicked creatures whose only objective was to outrun Gog and Magog. The end of the world was at hand, and these were the archangels of death.

Luísa fell to the ground and covered her face as a mob of the frightened monkeys trampled over her. Xander scrambled to her side, swatting at the mass exodus of monkeys and macaws.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Just scared.”

“I don’t blame you. The gargoyles have no predator and only one mistress.” He helped her up. “We keep running. They cannot enter Sanctuary.”

That didn’t explain how Shadrach got through the last time.

He helped her up and Luísa’s heels dug in. Sanctuary wasn’t far. She imagined her father had to be awake by now from all the unholy grunts of these beasts, but no light came from the little hut.

Xander made her stop. There was a wide clearing before reaching the hallowed ring of Sanctuary, and the gargoyles were sure to pounce on them there. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she said panting.

He kissed her, staring into her face as if he’d never see it again. It frightened her, and she hung on to him as tightly as she could. “No matter what you hear, I want you to run, Luísa. Don’t look back and don’t stop.”

She nodded so he wouldn’t hear the fear in her voice. They were never going to make it.

Daltry shoved her and she took off, all the while dodging the cumbersome gargoyles with a weave and a bob.

Behind her a growl emerged, one she recognized. She glanced back for only a moment and saw Xander in the throes of transformation. A cry stuck in her throat, not of terror, but pity.

Xander’s face contorted in an angry mix of suffering and cruelty. Like a kaleidoscope of grisly images, he transformed. Mouth and nose turned into muzzle, and fur lined his clawed hands. Ears lengthened and tapered, twitching to a sound on his right. He jumped and twisted his body in midair, his change still incomplete when a gargoyle swooped down and knocked him to the ground.

The gruesome beast stumbled over Xander, landing on stone knees that produced great burrows. He ignored Xander, scrambling over his prone body, his eyes locked on Luísa. He never slowed down, and his focus never wavered. Luísa turned and ran, but never made it past a few steps. The gargoyle pounced on top of her.

She wanted to scream, but there wasn’t enough breath for even that. The creature was as heavy as an anvil, and his claws dug deep into her arms, striking blood. Luísa kicked out to no avail.

Xander recovered and tackled the abomination, both of them rolling to one side, giving her a chance to flee. But she couldn’t. Xander was no match for this unholy beast. The gargoyle had the strength of ten men, and it was all her lover could do to keep its snarling muzzle from his neck.

Luísa pulled out her knife and lunged on the creature’s back. She hoped Paqua was right about it being magicked. She needed all the magic it could conjure right now. She stabbed, but the blade only sparked against stone.

The gargoyle shrugged her off like a spring cloak, and she fell to the ground with a dull thud. Two more gargoyles pounced into the cleared arena, one snatching her knife and the other taking her. He grabbed her by the waist and flung himself into the air.

Luísa didn’t even get out a scream. She watched helplessly as Xander clawed at his opponent, savagely fighting for his very life. The gargoyle snapped at him, sinking its teeth into his neck. Within moments, Xander fell limp and changed back into human form.

She yelled out his name, but she doubted he heard her as they flew high above the island. Her abductor gave her a fearsome grin and licked her across the mouth, slathering her with a toxic drool.

Her lips grew numb, the strange sensation overtaking her body one limb at a time. She gasped a final breath before everything melted to black.

When Luísa awoke, Xander was sitting at her side, his hands folded over hers.

He breathed an exhausted sigh of relief when she opened her eyes. “Praise God, I thought you’d never wake.”

She forced herself to sit up. A breeze from two opposing windows curled the gray smoke from the scented oil lamps. They found themselves in a sitting room with furniture as dusty as it was old. Luísa swallowed bile when she noticed the barred windows.

“Where are we?”

“My guess is that we’ve become the guests of the Sorceress.”

“What quarrel can she have with us? If she is my kin, surely I can reason with her.”

Xander shrugged. “This island has been cursed for more than two centuries. If she has any capacity for reason, there’s been no evidence of it.”

A stiff scraping sweep of the door drew their attention. A lone gargoyle shuffled in. His misshapen face hung like wet laundry and a black patch covered one eye.

Shadrach. The poor creature looked as if he’d been beaten. A trail of dried blood tracked its way from beneath his eye patch.

He limped into the room, and waved them both to stand and follow. He glanced back long enough to make sure they obeyed though he said not a word.

Luísa looked up at Xander. What choice did they have?

Xander helped her to her feet and she approached Shadrach. She touched his stone arm, stone so warm, it seemed almost hot with fever. “Shadrach? What’s happened? Why are we here?”

His lips remained sealed, a mix of grief and resignation on his face. He offered his arm as gallantly as any gentleman, and she laid her hand on his. Xander snatched her from him, as if he had the pox. The gargoyle betrayed a look of incredulity and then grim resignation, but he didn’t protest. He nodded to the open door, and they followed the misshapen ghoul into a dark corridor.