Blue Voodoo: A Romantic Retelling of Bluebeard (The Hidden Kingdom Series Book 2) (17 page)

“Give me a name.”

She met his eyes. “The name should have been Julien.”

“Why? What right do you have to my history when you so clearly have no interest in my future? You made it very clear that you want to be rid of me as quickly as possible and will remain my wife only long enough to satisfy our business arrangement.”

“No,
you
made it clear that all that exists between us—will ever exist between us—is business.
You
came back and blackmailed me into marrying you.
You
made it clear that you don’t trust me, couldn’t stay near me because I might attempt to
enslave
you. This business arrangement was
your
idea.”

Julien groped at his belt and retrieved a thin bottle of brown glass. “Yes, it’s a lovely business arrangement. But a business partner has no rights to my marital past, no reasonable expectation to hear my deepest secrets, my every desire.” Julien ripped the cork from the bottle and drained its contents in one long draught, tossing the bottle and cork to the ground when he’d finished. “What you are asking for are the rights of a wife. A true wife.”

“Which I am not.” Dominique curled her lip into a sneer, fiercely ignoring the stab of pain in her chest. “You’ve made that perfectly clear—to me and any of my people who dared to look closely enough.”

Julien licked his lips as if searching for more rum. “What do you mean?”

“I wear a ring my assistant purchased for me—with
my
money. I had a ceremony that lasted no longer than the sentences needed to seal the vows. I had no wedding dress, I had no—” Dominique cut herself off as a ferocious blush scalded her cheeks. Something tickled her skin and she bit her lip as she realized that at some point she’d started to cry, evidence of her pain sliding down her face in fat droplets of humiliation.

Julien looked like a man who’d fallen overboard. The harsh lines of his face melted like ice under the rays of a warm day. “I had no idea.”

Dominique averted her face, scrabbling for her anger, needing the protection it offered. Something to put between herself and the man staring into the soul she’d so foolishly bared to him for the second time.

“Dominique…”

“Go away.”

She’d meant it to be an order, but of course it came out a feeble plea, more a whisper than a command. Julien stepped closer, hands settling gently on her back as he pulled her against his chest.

“Let me go.”

Again, her voice offered her a pathetic excuse for a demand, fluttering between them like a breath. Dominique leaned back as far as his embrace would let her. She would not give in, not this time. Even as she fought, the strength to do so withered, and he cradled her even closer.

“Oh,
chere,
what a wretch I am. I should have known you’d want a proper romantic wedding.”

Dominique had never hated him more than she did in that moment. That moment when she wanted to collapse against him and cry, cry for the wedding she’d wanted, cry for the love she’d wanted. How many stupid, foolish dreams had she had of marrying this awful pirate, dreamt of the day he would realize how much he wanted her, come back and make good on all those lovely promises he’d made? Now she’d married him even though she knew he didn’t respect her, let alone love her. She had no one to blame.

“Please don’t cry. I never wanted to make you cry.”

“I hate you,” she whispered fiercely, half-choking on her tears.

“I know.”

He tried to pull her closer, tried to bury his face in her curls. She pounded a fist on his chest, pulling back to glare at him with every fiber of fury jetting through her being.            

“Damn your eyes, do not pretend you care. Tell me now that you never cared, that you never loved me. Tell me the only reason you married me was to save your skin, your business. Tell me you never thought of me these past ten years.”

“Dominique…”

“No!” She tried to tear herself free of his arms. “If you have one decent bone in your body, you’ll be honest with me now. Say the words I need to hear so I can hate you forever, so I can—”

He crushed his mouth to hers, and swallowed the rest of the words she wanted to throw at him. He yanked her against him, so close that not even a thought could pass between their bodies. The heat of his mouth melted the rest of her rancor, sent her spinning into a warm, sheltered place where there was nothing but his kiss, his lips on hers, their breath becoming one.

He kissed her as though he would consume her, as if he would take her inside of him and leave nothing behind. His coarse palms ran up and down her back, snagging the fabric of her dress, urging her impossibly closer. Her head spun and when he finally pulled back, she gasped in a breath.

He was speaking now, a steady stream of a lyrical language she vaguely recognized. He whispered against her neck, her ear, her hair, his breath caressing her with every word. His hands trembled against her, voice shaking with emotion. Dominique blinked, trying to think through the haze of pleasure holding her in its comforting embrace.

It took her a moment to realize he was staring into her eyes. His mouth moved and she finally understood the words spoken in an old form of Sanguenese. She knew those words.

“Je t'aime.”

She covered the hand cradling her cheek. “What did you say?”

Julien pressed his lips tightly together, the lines around his eyes deepening. His gaze was heavy, the force of it willing her to understand something he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit.

But he had admitted it.

Dominique couldn’t breathe. It was a dream, a dream like so many she’d had in the past ten years. A beautiful fantasy where he’d never left, where she’d woken to find his smiling face and that mischievous glint in his eyes promising wicked things to come. Her power swirled inside her, a wild dance of energy and joy growing impossibly large. It shot through her, burning as brightly as a comet…and continued flowing from her body into Julien’s chest.

Chapter Thirteen

Ecstasy. Pleasure. A feeling of…completeness. A tension he’d felt his entire life easing, releasing its death grip on his insides. Warmth flooding through his core, chasing away the biting chill of shadows.

“Je t'aime.”

The words leapt from his lips again, stronger this time. He trapped her against a tree, as he dropped his head, seeking his lover’s mouth, needing to share her breath. Her warm lips parted beneath his and Julien groaned, pressed forward, questing tongue licking, searching. The taste of bourbon in all its smoky, aged glory, a perfume that would forever remind him of this place, this woman.

This woman. His woman. His bonded.

Something fluttered at the back of his mind like a swarm of bats waking in a cave, his nerves sizzling from the jet of adrenaline. But it seemed far away. Everything, even the world, seemed far away right now. His entire existence narrowed down to the warm and willing feminine body in his arms, and her soft exhalation of breath.

“Julien…”

Her voice. Oh, he’d missed that voice, dreamt of that voice. Leaving her had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he’d had to leave, couldn’t risk—

This
.

Julien’s eyes flew open, a freezing wash of horror spilling over him like a sudden autumn shower. Dominique’s brown eyes, glazed over with desire, blinked lazily at him. Her beautiful lips were swollen, passion-bruised from his kiss. Her skin was glowing the way every bride’s should glow on her wedding night. She shifted against him, a rolling, sinuous motion that broadcast her invitation to every nerve center in his body. It was nearly enough to draw him back into the kiss, to distract him from the dawning realization of what had just happened.

Bonded
.

“No. No, it shouldn’t have been that easy, it shouldn’t… It can’t happen that fast, that… It should have
hurt
.”

Dominique tilted her head to study him, her hair brushing against the bark of the tree at her back. Julien’s desire-addled brain finally registered that he had her pinned there, held to the trunk of the oak like some sort of hamadryad.

“You… No. No, you couldn’t.” He closed his eyes, willing it to be a dream. His stomach roiled like a ship on storm-tossed waves. And still that shining light inside him glowed, gave off waves of peace, satisfaction.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that the lines around Dominique’s eyes had deepened. Her body lost the languidness of passion, stiffened as she finally registered the change in his demeanor. He wanted to back away, put space between them, but the power pulsing inside him pulled, straining toward the woman it had come from. Julien let out a choked sound and dropped his head again, his lips barely touching the shell of her ear. The pathetic note pricked his pride, stirring his temper.

“How dare you,” he breathed into her hair.

“How dare I?” Dominique jerked back and shoved against his chest, the friction breaking bark from the tree. “How dare I what?”

He gripped her wrist in a crushing hold and pressed it harder against his chest. She opened her mouth, whether to cry out in pain or protest he didn’t know. Her eyes widened and the words died on her tongue. She gaped at his chest where her hand touched him.

“Blessed Bondye…”

The shock on her face… It was as if she hadn’t known what she’d done, hadn’t meant to… But that would mean her power had sought him out on its own. It would mean it
remembered
him. Wanted him. It would mean those legends among his kind were true, the tales that said
impundulu
did not seek
any
magic user, but rather, a specific magic user—someone meant for them, and them alone.

This…this feeling is what he had so narrowly avoided the last time he’d been with her. This was what he would have felt if he’d given in to that tempting caress, that kiss of power against the aching emptiness inside him. What Dominique had felt had been real. A connection, as deep as love, but different—more. Fate.

As if stirred by the very nature of his realization, the feminine tones rang in his mind like killing hour bells.

“It will feel so good if you stop fighting it.”

“A pitcher with a hole in it holds no water.”

“You will thank us someday.”

During his first marriage—marriages. It had taken everything he had to fight his way out, every ounce of willpower to free himself. And that bond had not felt nearly as complete as this. Because it hadn’t been right, hadn’t been the bond he was meant to have. This time… This time there would be no escape.

Julien back stepped, and tripped on a root in his haste.

“Julien, are you all right?”

Dominique knelt beside him. He hadn’t seen her move. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder like she was soothing a frightened child. He opened his mouth to tell her no, he was not all right. He never should have married her, he should have never come back. 

“Get it out.”

Dominique winced, her hand recoiling. “Julien, I didn’t mean—”

“Get it out! Get it out
now
!”

Panic swallowed him. Pride flew from him and he got to his knees, grabbed Dominique’s hand. She stared at him as though he’d lost his mind, lips parting without making a sound.

“Take your power back.” He was begging, the sound pathetic even to his own ears, but he didn’t care—couldn’t care. “Please.”

“I don’t—I’m not sure how.”

Julien scrabbled at the sheath fastened to the inside of his coat, fumbling until he freed his dagger. Dominique tensed and the power inside of him pulsed. The sensation merged with his heartbeat, forcing him to experience her magic as a part of himself. Another pulse of rightness radiated through his being, touching every corner of his soul. He tightened his fingers around the dagger’s hilt, firmly grasping the fraying ends of his willpower, his self-control. He had to act now, before it was too late and the bond was permanent.

“Take your power out of me, or I will cut it out myself.”

Eyes impossibly wide, Dominique sucked in a sharp breath. She leaned forward, hands reaching for him, but hovering safely out of reach, as if she were smart enough to be cautious, but brave enough to stop him if he tried to follow through on his threat.

Gods, don’t make me kill her.

“Please.” He tilted the dagger, holding her gaze while he aimed for her heart. Her thin dress would offer no protection against the cold point of the blade.
Please, Dominique. I care for you, gods know I cared for you before the bond. But this… I will not be this vulnerable to anyone. Not ever.

“I’m not sure I can.” Dominique stroked his hair back, brushing his sweat-slicked forehead. “I have never done this before.”

 “Just…reach for your power. Call it back to you.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Please, you must try.”

Nodding firmly, Dominique pressed her palms to his chest. The gesture forced her to lean forward, putting her breast closer to the blade of his dagger.

She trusts you. See how she trusts you. You pathetic excuse for a man.

His hand trembled, but he didn’t move the dagger. If she couldn’t undo what she’d done, his only salvation would be her death. Just as it had been with the three. Only this time, there would be no walking away feeling justified and righteous. He believed her, believed she had not bonded with him intentionally. Unlike the three, she had not sought power through his enslavement. And he did…love her.

“Watch that dagger before you stab me,” Dominique bit out.

Julien flinched, pulled the dagger back without turning it aside. Dominique was staring hard at his chest, her eyes cloudy as if she were seeing something far, far away. Beads of sweat broke out at her temples, sliding down to merge with a few brown curls licking down the side of her throat. The moisture hung there like perfect droplets of dew on tender blades of grass.

Something low in his body tugged, sensation branching out like long, thin fingers tipped in razor sharp talons. Another tug, and a thousand needles of pain followed the strange sensation. Julien arched his back, trying to ride the pain out, teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached.