A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (32 page)

A
nother crewman charged Jacques prompting him to draw his sword. Jacques was a magnificent sword fighter, his skills rivaling Kane’s. His lunges graceful and precise, his moves smooth. He disarmed the man and beheaded him.

She glanced at the doorway leading down the stairs to the corridor to Kane’s cabin.
She could lock herself inside and barricade the door, hiding away from Jacques. But ’twas too late now. 

A familiar male voice cried out.
She turned. Her heart stopped. Her insides knotted. A meaty sailor towered over Doc, his right foot pinned Doc’s arm and his other foot stood on his chest. Doc’s left arm bleed profusely and was bent at an odd angle. The man held a machete. With hesitation and fear forgotten, she raced over towards them. “No!”

She dropped her cutlass and calling upon her power, she braced her palms toward the brute. The machete flew out of his hands and hurtled through the air, over the portside and embedding into the
Sorcière de Mer’s
main mast. Eyes wide, the man stared at his empty hands.

Doc tried to get up, but the man
grounded his heel into his chest and yanked out a pistol, aiming it at Doc’s head. Her hands shaking, Hannah concentrated on the man and he rose into the air, his legs kicking and his arms flailing. He screamed and fired the pistol, missing Doc’s head by inches. She moved her hands and the man slammed into the
Soaring Phoenix’s
mast, knocking him unconscious.

She
grabbed her cutlass and sprinted to Doc, dodging fighting men. “Doc? Can you walk?”

Doc gasped,
“What are you doin’, lass?”

“Saving your life.
Now can you walk?”

“My leg’s busted,
Hannah. Get out of here.”

“No,” she said.
She stuck her cutlass back into its sheath and put her hands underneath his arm.  Taking a deep breath, she crept backwards. Doc weighed as much as an anchor. Her back screamed and she only inched along. Men bumped into her and she winced, but she refused to let go of Doc. Blood poured down his left arm and seeped from his chest. 

“Hannah,
” he yelled. “Leave me, I can’t be killed, but you can. Now get below deck.”

“But you could be decapitated
, you fool.” She stopped and gasped for breath. Drawing on her power, she concentrated on Doc’s form. Move, just, move.

The weight li
ghtened and she could move him with ease across the deck, as if someone else was caring him.

By the time
she reached the stairs, poor Doc had lost consciousness.

Wetness trickled down her nose. She touched her upper lip. Blood. Her power was spent.
She turned. Her breath stilled and her legs weakened. Jacques D’Aubigne charged her with his sword over his head. His hair hung in front of his face. Blood and gunpowder marred his clothes. She tilted her chin and gripped her cutlass. She fought back her fear. Doc’s life depended on it. 

Hannah
nodded. She spread her legs at an angle and evenly distributed her weight. Bending her right knee, she pointed her cutlass at Jacques.

Jacques halted in front of her.
“
Mademoiselle
, what the hell did the bastard teach you?” He glanced at her cutlass. “Fool, you actually think you can defeat me.”

He lunged and their
weapons clashed. “Tell me,
ma chere
, has he finished with you yet? O’Brien never stays with a woman more than a couple of weeks. You’re nothing, but a passing fancy to him.”

She s
cowled, but refused to rise to the bait. 

“
Oui
, so I am right, no? Don’t worry,
mademoiselle
, you’ll not be a passing fancy with me.”

She gritted her teeth,
“I’d rather die.”

Jacques stepp
ed his right foot forward and lunged. He beat her blade hard. She winced with the pain shooting through her arm.

Jacques
forced her to move backwards. Paring with Kane’s men had been easier than she thought. Fighting a mad man was far more deadly. Kane had been right. What did she expect after only a couple of days of learning the sword? Any moment, she’d be at Jacques’ mercy.

Jacques lunged again, moving his sword back along her cutlass in a split second. He feigned an attack and when Hannah parried, he pressed his blade and the force caused her to stumble. She cried out. He raised his sword to cut her with his blade. A shot rang out. He gripped his shoulder. Another shot him in the thigh and he collapsed onto the deck.

“Bloody hell
, Hannah,” Kane yelled. “What part of staying below deck, d’ye not understand?”

Kane stormed across the deck with his pistol in hand and his cutlass in the other.
He lifted Jacques’s chin with his cutlass and kicked his sword away. “You’re dead.”

“Palmer
told me where to find you, O’Brien.”

Kane grabbed his hair and yanked. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

Jacques gritted his teeth. “After you left me strapped to the damn wheel, Palmer came to my plantation. He freed me and sent me ahead. The witch aboard his ship. He told me where you were. Palmer’s coming for you.” He glanced at Hannah, a glint of evil glittering in his cold eyes. “He’s coming for you both.”

His
icy words chilled Hannah to her bones.

“Amadi, take ’
im and along with the others to the brig,” Kane growled.

Hannah
rubbed her hands over her shaking arms and glanced around the deck. The fighting had ceased. Amadi and Michael rounded the survivors and led them below deck.

Kane towered over her.
He put his pistol in his breeches and his sword in its sheath. He gripped her shoulders. “The next time I give you an order I expect you to follow it. Don’t ever disobey me again, not in battle.”

Despite the fear threatening to send her screaming to
his cabin, Hannah refused to cower beneath his glowering face. “I wasn’t going to let Doc die.”

Sliding his arms around her waist, he kissed the top of her head.
“You foolish lass, you could have been killed.” He kissed her savagely, devouring her mouth, leaving her dazed, forgetting her fear and faint, blocking out the grisly battle. Burying her hands in his hair, she clung to him tight.

“Doc’s hurt pretty bad,” Sean’s concern broke through their embrace.

Kane ended their kiss and she clung to his shirt. Her heart ached at Doc’s mangled form.

“
Take him to my cabin. We’ll attend him there.”

“Aye, aye, Capt’n,” Sean replied. He lifted Doc’s large unconscious form off the deck, groaning as he carried him down
the steps. Kane and Hannah followed behind. Amadi opened the door and Sean gently laid Doc out on the bed. Hannah smoothed Doc’s hair back as Kane cut away his bloodied shirt. She gasped at the large gash in the middle of chest. How could a man survive such a wound?

She rushed to Kane’s dresser and whipped out a shirt.
She sat on the bed and gingerly wiped the blood off Doc’s chest. “You’re going to be fine,” she whispered.

Michael came in with Doc’s bag and Cook came down with boiling water.
Kane sat on the bed as he dipped the needle into the boiling water. He sewed tiny stitches into Doc’s chest and his left arm. “He’s lost a lot of blood and will have to stay in bed for a few days.” His brows crushed together in a frown. He glanced at Michael. “How many dead?”

Michael folded his arms.
“Jacques had three dozen men total aboard his ship and now, two dozen are in the brig.”

“Tend to their wounds,” he ordered. “We dock and repair the
Phoenix
before we set sail to pursue the
Fiery Damsel
.”

Sean tilted his head. “What about the
Sorcière de Mer?
”

“
Will blast her to the bottom of the sea,” Kane said.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Sean said.

She gulped. “How long before we can repair the
Soaring Phoenix
?”

“Three days
to make repairs,” William answered as he stood in the doorway. Behind him stood the crew all staring at their fallen friend. “She saved his life, Captain,” William said. “I saw the bloody bastard raise his sword to chop Doc’s head off when she blew him into the mast. If it weren’t for her, Doc’d be dead.”

William
gazed at Hannah with admiration. She gave him a grateful smile. He slightly bowed to her.

Kane glanced at her.
“Better not ever put yourself in harm’s way again,” Kane warned.

“Oh, so next time, you want me to let someone die?”

He gritted his teeth. “You’re a stubborn wench.”

Hannah
stood on the bow, a full moon rising high in the clear midnight sky, her hands gripping the smooth polished wood railing. She had become accustomed to the sights and sounds of the sailing ship. The wind whipped the sleeves of her shirt, blowing her hair back over her shoulders. The sails flapped, a soft popping sound, and the rhythmic jangle of the rigging slapped gently against the mast. Ocean spray misted her cheeks and she tasted salt. The air smelled of the tar used to protect the ropes from the elements. The ship rolled beneath her feet, but her stomach didn’t.

Kane wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her against him and Hannah leaned her head back.
“Did you feed?”

“My men did.”

She whirled around. His face was drawn, his red eyes tired. “What do you mean your men did? You didn’t?”

“Hannah, if I would have fed, those men would have died.
I refuse to drain another human being to satisfy the blasted curse.”

She frowned.
“But you won’t be at full strength when you face Palmer.”

His lashes dark against his cheeks and his mouth grim it took all of her
restraint to not admonish him for sacrificing himself for his men.

“Hannah, I’
ll be fine.”

He needed blood and his stubbornness could be the death of him.
“No, you won’t.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

“Hannah,” he refused to move.
“I won’t feed on the prisoners.”

“Did I say prisoners?”

His eyes widened. “What? No.”

She marched up to him and pressed her body against his
. She maneuvered her hands slowly, lifting them to caress his cheeks first, to brush aside strands of windblown hair, then weaving her fingers deep into his dark locks. He sucked in his breath. She tipped her mouth up to his, her eyes half-hooded, and felt the tremors in his hands as they slid down her neck, then gripped her shoulders. For the length of two, three heartbeats, she feared he would push her away. She kissed him and whispered, “You’ve taken my blood before.”

He stiffened.
“I didn’t mean to…”

“I’
m offering it to you. Please.”

He groaned.
“Hannah.”

She smiled, his body trembled
and his erection pressed against her thigh. She clasped his calloused hand and pulled. He stood still. She cocked her eyebrow and unbuttoned her shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“’Tis here or our cabin.”

He sighed and nodded.
“Lead on.” He reluctantly followed, his head hanging down. Her heart quickened and she licked her lips. She closed the door, whirled around and pushed Kane against the door. He had always been her strength, now ’twas her turn.

She ravaged his lips,
pleading silently for him to give into temptation, wanting to give him what he needed. And when he did, groaning with abandoned selfishness, his arms wrapped around her and held her close, so close she felt his heart rumbling within his chest. The air was driven from her lungs in a cry of relief, but his mouth was there to seize it, to share it, to help her forget the upcoming battle. He brought her hard up against him, devouring her in the desperate kiss of man facing a deadly foe.

She ripped off his shirt, buttons popping
to the floor around them and lightly bit his nipple. He tasted of salt and man. The shudder that passed through him sent a corresponding shudder shaking her spine. Liquid heat pulsated through her arms, and the length of her body, flowed molten fire through her veins. Wanton. She was wanton and out of control, but she’d never experienced such feminine power.  

A rough curse brought him gripping her shoulders and whirling her around pressing her back to the door.
His mouth stayed fastened over hers, but his hands unbuttoned her shirt and with another curse, betraying his impatience, he tore away her chemise, ripping it from her neck to her bellybutton. She gasped.

“I’ll get you a new one,” he mumbled.

Hannah arched her back as his mouth suckled her nipple, sending her warmth and passion through her, but when he went to carry her to the bed, she pushed his arms down and wiggled away. “No,” she panted. She unbuckled her belt, tossing her it onto the floor along with her pistol and cutlass. His hot gaze sizzled across her skin. She kicked off her boots and yanked down her trousers. “I want you to take me, here now. Against the door.”

His eyebrows knotted.
“Right here?”

She leaned her head back against the door.
“Yes, please. I want to burn this into my mind so that when I close my eyes and face the demons threatening to kill me, this will be all that I see and feel. This will give me the strength to survive.”

His red eyes burning brighter, he growled rather than answering her.
He tore off his shirt, unfastened his belt, his sword and pistol falling next to Hannah’s, and yanked down his breeches, releasing his erection. Smiling, Hannah stood perfectly still against the door, her body drowning in alternating waves of heat and icy anticipation. Her eyes were all that moved, avidly taking in his glorious body.

He stopped just short of touching her and boldly flashed his gaze over her, turning her legs to seaweed.
His hands cupped her heavy breasts and she groaned as his thumbs brushed over her budded nipples. One hand slid down her quivering belly toward her tangle of dark curls before slipping between her thighs.

She cried out, her head pressing against the door, reveling in his sweet torture.
He stroked her, his finger tracing the folds of her feminine core, probing the silky rifts. She whimpered as her thighs tightened around the intrusion. He moved forward, but this time ’twas not his finger, but his flesh slowly sliding inside her, teasing her, kindling her passion. 

When her hips started to curl upward to meet his slow thrusts, he bent down his lips brushing over her neck.
She turned her head and offered him more of her flesh. Her hand slipped around his neck pressing him down onto her. “Now,” she whispered, “drink.”

“Hannah,” he groaned.
His tongue licked her and she closed her eyes, waiting for him to bite her, taking what he needed. She wrapped her other arm around his waist holding him to her. He lifted his head and murmured, “I’m sorry, Hannah. I can’t resist.”

“Drink, love, drink,” she insisted.

His teeth sank into her flesh. A sharp but swift pain jabbed her neck. White-hot whips of lightning pleasure propelled through her body, his sucking intensified and his hips quickened their pace, his cock filling her. Hannah matched his intensity, her hips matching his rhythm. She locked her legs around his hips, hooking her ankles, holding him to her. “Harder,” she gasped.

His powerful t
hrusts drove deeper inside her, touching her womb, taking her to the same blazing depth. Hannah’s pleasure exploded. She cried out as shudder after shudder seized her. He slammed in her one more time, spilling his seed inside her. Dizziness swept over her. He raised his head, licked her neck. “Hannah, Hannah, did I hurt you?”

“No,” she whispered.
She gazed into his concerned eyes and cupped his face. “I need you to survive, Kane.”

He rested his head against her
s, their skin moist to the touch. Her tiny muscles still clamped around his moving flesh. “I promise you, I will.”

She rubbed his back, feeling the power within his sculpted sinew.
“You better.” Her quivering legs tightened around his hips, binding him. He might not survive and she needed him to
want
to survive. A reason to live. “Because I love you.”

He jerked his head up.
A look of bewilderment filled his face. “But, I’m a vampire.”

“Yes, you are.
” She traced her finger around his heaving chest. “You’re
my
vampire.”

She held her breath waiting for him to respond in kind, her hand pressed against his beating heart, wanting,
needing
him to respond in kind, but he only stared. He opened his mouth, and shut it. His hand trembling, he cupped her chin. “You’re so beautiful.”

Beautiful?
She wanted to hear the words, needed to hear them, desperate for them. Kane had always acted like he believed in her, cared for her. Why would he not say them? Didn’t he feel the same?

He dropped his hand and turned his head, his silky hair caressed her hot skin, but when he faced her.
Her hope died. His captain scowl had returned. “We’re being hunted by the
Fiery Damsel
and I’ve got to get up on deck.”

She swallowed
, unable to answer. Better or worse, she’d said it. Now, she knew where she stood. Disappointed.

Hannah slowly unlocked her legs and bit her lips.
Jacques’ words of how Kane tired of women haunted her. Had he tired of her? Kane slowly withdrew from her wetness.

She brushed past him and headed for his dresser.
Clothing rustled behind her as she grabbed one of his shirts and tied the long ends into a knot to keep from wearing it like a dress.

“One of these days, I’ve got to get you shirts that actually fit you,” Kane said.

She turned around.
“I like wearing your shirts.”

A slow smile spread across his lips.
He handed her the discarded breeches on the floor along with her weapons. She sat on the bed and with shaking hands, she put on her boots.

“You don’t have to fight, Hannah,” he said.
“You can stay here.”

She met his gaze.
“I’m not afraid,” she said.
Only afraid of you not loving me.

He held out his hand and she clasped it.
Together, they walked up on deck.

Soft beams lit up the dark ocean, waves splashed onto the hull of the ship. Hannah braced her hands on the railing of the ship and gazed out to the moonlight sea, trying to steer her courage. Somewhere out there her father was imprisoned on the
Fiery Damsel
and Palmer was doing God’s knew what to him. Would he even be alive?

“Ahoy, Capt’n,” Amadi called from the crow’s nest.

Amadi pointed. “Off the portside.”

Kan
e stood beside her and squeezed her hand. “Hannah.” He peered down at her. He looked so different, so mysterious, so deadly. “You’ll follow every word I say without question. Savvy?”

His voice was tender, filled with concern. She turned away. “I’m not hiding in the cabin, Kane, so don’t even ask me.”

He grabbed her arms, his fingers holding her secure, and whirled her around. “Did I say for you to do that? As much I hate this, I need your abilities. I want you to stay close to William.”

She frowned. “Why William?
Is he my sentinel now?”

“You’
ve little choice. ’Tis him or shackles below.”

“Fine, as long as he does
not lock me in the brig with Jacques,” she grumbled.

He released her, his index finger caressing her cheek. “William!”

William marched over to them. “Aye, Kane.”

Kane dropped his hand. “She’s your responsibility
, brother.” He nodded towards the
Fiery Damsel
. “I can’t fight if I fear for her life.”

William braced his shoulders. “I’ll protect her with mine.”

The brothers grasped their hands together in a tight grip. A lump formed in Hannah’s throat. This was it. They could die. Any of them could. Maybe she
should
hide in her cabin.

Kane stormed away. Her skin was
still chaffed where he had kissed her. Her breathing slowed, her eyes grew heavy and she fought to keep them open. Had Kane taken too much blood on purpose so she’d be too weak and sleepy, and miss the battle? 

William stood next to her and they both faced the approaching ship. What could they say? They were the only m
ortals going into battle. She’d her powers, but what about William?

“Hannah, stay with me,” William picked up her hand and squeezed. “If you follow Kane, he’ll not be able to concentrate and you’ll put him at risk.”

She squeezed his hand. “I promised I’d follow his orders.”

“I hope you do,” he dropped her hand and hugged her close. His heart pounded hard. He was as frightened as
she. 

The
Fiery Damsel
approached them on the horizon, her sails blooming in the wind and her sweeps splashing in the black sea. Her guns manned, the
Fiery Damsel’s
full broadside erupted from her beam, sending cannons shrieking through the
Phoenix’s
tops, tearing sail and rigging, and adding a blanket of black smoke to further mask her movement. The ship came along their portside, vastly overtaking them, just like it had in Saint Kitts. Was their speed due to the witch onboard? Did he make the ship go faster or was it Zuto? Kane had said Zuto couldn’t leave the island, but what if he found a way, what if he was on board that ship. She swallowed hard. Tonight her powers would be put to the test.