Nightbred

The hostages began shuffling toward the ladders as Sam ran to the starboard side of the yacht. Hundreds of small boats were closing in, each carrying warriors dressed in black and armed with rifles and swords. On the bow of the frontmost cruiser stood Lucan, his corn-silk mane tied back from his grim face, his hands empty and bare.

“No, no, not until we get them out of here.” Sam took off at a flat run for the walkway between the casino and the old ship.

* * *

Chris pressed back against the mast as two more guards walked within inches of her and Werren. Although she knew they couldn’t see or hear them, she still whispered. “How long do you think it’ll take Sam to get the people out of the casino?”

“Not very long,” Werren said. “Dutch ordered all the guards over to the Horde.” She hesitated before she asked, “If we live through this, what will happen to us?”

“You won’t be sex slaves anymore.” Chris glanced at her. “Why?”

Her mouth tightened. “We have not lived in the world beyond this ship for centuries. When they were mortal, the other women were harlots. This is all we know, this life.”

“I used to work in the sex trade,” Chris told her. “I had no family, no education, no skills, and it was the only way I could survive. Walking away from that scared me, but not as much as what I knew I’d become if I kept doing it. That’s the first step. You’ve got to want a better future for yourself.”

“I have no future. Your master will kill me for abducting his lady.” Werren looked miserable. “I deserve it.”

“Maybe you do, but that’s up to Sam,” Chris reminded her. “And if she wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” She saw a blur of movement overhead on the walkway to the casino. “Sam’s coming back. Something must have gone wrong.”

“Oh, no.” Werren looked out at the boats approaching the ship. “Your master and his men—” Her eyes widened, and she made a choking sound before her expression blanked, and the illusion concealing them abruptly shifted away.

“How like women, to hide what whores they are.” Dutch jumped down from the quarterdeck and seized Chris by the throat, holding the blade of his sword in front of her nose. “I had such plans for you, Pearl Girl. You were to be the first I changed once I had back my gems.” He dragged her over to the side of the ship. “Now you’ll feed me and the sharks.”

A shard of glass slashed down in front of Chris’s face and smashed against Dutch’s fist. Analise threw away the fragments left in her hand. “You turn her loose, Dutchman.”

“I never liked tupping you, you old bat, even when you made yourself pretty.” He touched the medallion at his throat, and Analise became a statue. “I never want to see your ugly mug again.”

The old woman made jerky movements as she clawed at her face, and as Chris shrieked for her to stop, she felt Dutch’s breath on her throat and the agonizing stab of his fangs.

Blood poured down her chest when he lifted his mouth and made an obscene sucking sound. “Not as sweet as I thought you’d be.” He turned his head as Analise collapsed to the deck, and Werren staggered over to him, dragging a struggling Sam along with her as she reached out and took the sword Dutch held out to her.

“Let her go,” Chris choked out, but Werren pulled Sam away until they disappeared behind the mainmast.

“Lucan,” he shouted, and Chris looked down to see her boss standing on the tower of a marlin boat. “Tell your men they and your territory are mine now, or my whore will behead yours.”

“He’s not here to surrender to you, you fool.”

Chris looked over as the two tresori traitors appeared, both pointing guns at Dutch.

“What shit do you spew now?” Dutch demanded as he jerked Chris around and used her as a body shield. “You said if I took his woman that he would give me anything to get her back.”

“We told you that so you would bring Alenfar here,” one of the traitors sneered. “He will be the bait we use to draw out the smith, and find the jewels for our master. For that, we need to control him—with his woman.”

“You used me for this?” Dutch sounded stunned. “But the jewels belong to me. Your master be damned.”

“You will never have them.” The tresora grinned, and then froze as a weapon fired. He glanced down with a puzzled expression at the front of his suit, and the gun he held pressed against the wet scarlet stain on his shirt.

“Anything gold touches is mine,” Dutch said, his tone gloating. “Like the ring on your finger.”

The tresora shot himself a second time and toppled over.

Dutch turned his head toward Werren, who was rushing toward him, and she stopped in her tracks. As the second tresora saw her lift the sword she still carried, he shot wildly at her. She neatly decapitated him before Sam lunged at her and kicked the sword out of her hand. They struggled for a moment before Sam slammed Werren into the mainmast. As the senseless woman fell against her, Sam hoisted her over her shoulder and started toward Dutch and Chris.

“The mortals lied to you, Hollander,” a familiar voice said from behind them. “Coburn hid the jewels in a secret cache, which I found. I have brought them back to you.”

Dutch dragged Chris around to face Jamys, who stood on the other side of the deck. Chris shook her head wildly, then screamed as the pirate struck a second time, tearing at her throat and drawing out her blood in huge swallows. When Jamys snarled, he raised his head. “You’ll get no more use out of her, boy. She’s done filled my belly proper. Drop your weapons.”

Sam surged forward and nearly dropped Werren. “You bastard.”

“All will be well, my lady.” Jamys removed his daggers and dropped them onto the deck, kicking them away. To Dutch he said, “Release Lady Samantha and the other women, and I will give you the gems . . . and my head.”

“Now, that is what I call a fair bargain.” Dutch reached over and shoved Samantha and Werren over the side, and bellowed at the other women to jump.

Chris felt cold, but she was too tired to shiver. She looked into Jamys’s eyes, and felt his thoughts entwine with hers. He meant to kill them both to stop Dutch and save the others, but he wasn’t afraid. Neither was she, Chris realized, and her heart skipped a beat as she began to droop. She used the last of her strength to whisper her agreement: “Yes.”

Jamys put a golden jeweler’s case on the deck, and shoved it across to Dutch, who pushed Chris away as he bent down to grab it. Then Jamys was there, lifting her in his arms, his lips cold against her brow.

“Three hundred years I’ve waited to behold these beauties again,” Dutch crooned as he fumbled with the latch on the case. “My pretty green rocks, what fortune we will know together.”

Chris felt her lungs flatten, and the thud of her heart slowing, and turned her face into Jamys’s chest.

“What is this?” Dutch growled. “These are not the emeralds that made me immortal.”

“No.” Jamys lifted a small device with a thumb switch. “They are not.”

Chris closed her eyes as Jamys pressed the switch, and the world turned to fire.

Chapter 20

After the fire came the darkness, and the icy wind, and stars that filled up her burning eyes until she thought she would weep light. She put out her hand to touch them, and watched a small golden angel circle around it, kissing her fingertips.

Dying is like falling, Chris thought as she drifted down, Alice in the rabbit hole. Jamys. Will you be there to catch me?

I am here. Jamys reached for her from above. Take my hands.

But it’s so lovely here. The terrible pain in her neck had gone, and so had the frightening gush of blood. She felt nothing but a drowsy peace now that she was dead. She wanted him to fall from earth with her, his arms around her as they danced with the angels.

Jamys kicked his way through the night to her, but when he took her in his arms, he tugged her back toward the light. Come with me, love, he murmured, holding her when she tried to pull away. You promised you would take me with you. Let me show you the way to heaven.

The light hurt her eyes, and so did the press of the night as it tried to drag her back. She opened her mouth to tell him, and tasted the air, heavy and thick, like breathing in tears.

The night exploded into flames, shattered wood, icy slaps, and stinging hot wind. She writhed as Jamys turned her around, pressing his arm into her chest and forcing the tears from her mouth. The pain returned, huge and unbearable, bathing her inside and out with its merciless fires.

This was not heaven. He’d brought her to hell.

Jamys dragged her through the nightmare, slowly, steadily, until he lifted her and flung her onto an altar of icy metal. Chris rolled onto her back, her arms and legs clumsy, her hands clutching at nothing.

He lifted her again, carrying her through sloshing water to another hard place where she lay stunned and wretched as he pushed the dripping hair out of her face.

Stay with me, love, he whispered inside her head. Stay with me, and I will take you back to Paradise.

Chris closed her eyes. Hurry, Jamys. Please hurry.

Slowly the horrible pain faded, and the night returned for her, seducing her back to the comforting darkness. Yet each time she tried to lose herself in it, Jamys was there, his hands against her face, his mouth on hers, the sad poetry of his voice pouring into her heart.

Keep fighting for me.

My love.

You are stronger than you know.

My life.

Paradise awaits us.

My woman.

Never leave me.

My wife.

Chris slipped between the darkness and Jamys, floating to and fro until she thought she would never get off the languid carousel. Then something cool and wet touched her lips, and filled her with such sweetness that she thought the pleasure of it would swallow up her soul.

Drink of my love for you, Christian.

Instead of the night a dull grayness came over her, and dragged her away, taking Jamys along, too. How long they remained there, she didn’t know, but he held on to her even then, and refused to be parted from her. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">