Blue Voodoo: A Romantic Retelling of Bluebeard (The Hidden Kingdom Series Book 2) (27 page)

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his chest. Julien’s hands rose, hesitated for a moment before they settled on her back. When she didn’t protest, he rubbed small circles along her spine.

“I guess there was a part of me that didn’t trust you,” Dominique admitted quietly. “People kept coming to me with stories of how you’d murdered your wives. I didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it, but then those girls came and demanded justice—”

Dominique straightened her back so quickly her spine ached in protest. “The girls. They were in on this, they lured me there deliberately. They broke my circle.” She stared at Julien, but her attention was far away, seeking her memory for any tidbits about those women, working furiously to place their faces. “They aren’t from around here, I would have recognized them.” Her fingers dug harder into his muscles. “I’ll bet the names they gave me were fake. I have no way to find them now.”

“Probably friends of Narcisse,” Julien growled. “Whores no doubt.” He gathered her closer to him as if compelled to protect her now that the conversation had turned. “I will find them.”

“Narcisse. He told me you were friends. I know now that it was all a manipulation.” Dominique wrinkled her nose in distaste, as she tried to tug off the grip Julien had on her shoulders. “Just wait till I get my hands on him.”

“Now, now,” Julien chastised, firmly holding her in place. “Leave some of that vengeance for me, my love. We are equal partners, are we not?” He gestured to the three female bodies with his chin. “You have had more than your fair share of justice. I deserve to get a little satisfaction too,
oui
?”

Together they glanced back at the three women lying on the floor. They didn’t move. Not even their chests rose and fell.

“Are they dead?”

Dominique patted his hand, amused by the note of hope in his voice. “No. I performed the
desounen
. They will merely appear dead until they are given the antidote.”

Julien gathered her back into his arms, a muscle in his jaw tightening. “
If
you give them the antidote.”

“I cannot kill them, Julien. Nor can I raise them as zombies. It might be what they deserve, but it is not what
I
deserve.”

Her voice broke on the last word, old memories rising to choke her. Her mother’s face hovered in her mind, features twisted with sadness. Dominique hadn’t understood when her mother was alive, hadn’t comprehended the full spectrum of magic. She’d judged her mother too harshly, and now that she understood, now that she had become what her mother had truly been…it was too late.

Julien pulled her close, nestling her against his solid, warm chest, his arm a comforting weight against her back. “You are not evil,
chere
. And your mother was not evil.” He tilted his head to meet her eyes, and grinned. “Have I not taught you that actions are not enough to judge someone on? You must know their mind, their heart.” He touched his nose to hers, a playful nudge. “As I know yours.”

“I wish I could tell my mother I understand now,” Dominique murmured, closing her eyes as she relaxed against Julien.

“It is my understanding that your faith allows you to speak with your ancestors just as you speak with the
loa
,” Julien pointed out. “Is that not true?”

“That’s true.” Dominique let out a deep breath, forcing herself to take Julien’s words to heart. He was right, she knew he was right. Her mother was still there, still watching over her. She knew her daughter’s mind. And there was no reason Dominique couldn’t speak with her now, say a prayer of thanks long overdue.

Julien shifted and Dominique suddenly remembered he was naked. She leaned back, careful to keep a straight face. “Perhaps you’d like to get dressed and help me escort our guests out? I won’t kill them, but I won’t house them either. Help me get them to my cottage in the bayou. I have the materials there for a binding. We can drop them off in Midguard or maybe take them back to wherever they came from.” She stared hard at the three women. “It doesn’t matter where we leave them. They’ll never use my power—or their own—again.”

“Are you sure you need me dressed,
chere
?” Julien teased. He didn’t spare so much as a glance for the bodies, his full attention focused on sliding up and down Dominique’s form. “I am in the mood for merriment. And it is still the Midsummer Celebration.”

Dominique squeaked and slapped his hands away as they groped at her hips. A blush warmed her cheeks and she rolled her eyes at herself. She stepped back from Julien, brushing her hands over her skirt to straighten her clothes as she regained her composure. “I will not do anything while those women lie unconscious on the floor ten feet away. I want them bound, and I want them bound now.”

A flash of red caught Dominique’s eye. She blinked at Julien’s arm. There was a red scarf tied around his biceps. Flashes of memory came back to her, the voices from this room as she crept down the hall.

Dominique’s lips parted and she gaped at Julien. “You… You were possessed by Ogou.”

Julien tensed, abandoning his attempt to snare her back in his arms. His gaze flicked around the room, landing anywhere but her face. “Yes.”

“But… But you…” Dominique frowned, shook her head. “You don’t believe. And even if you did, you would never… You said—”

“I swore I would never share my body with another power,” Julien finished. “Yes, well…” He cleared his throat and stepped back, still unable to meet her eyes. A weight seemed to have fallen on his shoulders, making his large frame sag in a way that looked wrong on the cocky pirate. “I could not save you myself,” he admitted quietly.

A tide of emotion washed over Dominique, tightening her chest. She leapt forward, closing her arms around Julien’s waist and hugging him fiercely. The embrace held the sentiment that she had no words for, the gratitude, love, and surprise dancing over her soul like a rainbow. Julien huffed in surprise, then slowly hugged her back.

“I tried to get them to take your body first, you know.” He pressed his mouth to her hair, muffling the confession. “After all, you weren’t using it at the time. But Tenoch said the
loa
would want a sacrifice for their help, that they would want—”

“Service.” Dominique jerked back, the joy of a moment ago gone under an icy tide of fear. “Julien, what did you promise Ogou?”

“A decade of service.”

“Ogou is a warrior god.” Her stomach rolled, bile tickling her throat.. It is likely he will want you to fight.”

“Really?” Julien perked up. “Well, that’s all right then.”

She slapped him on the chest, palm stinging with the force. Tears burned her eyes, but she ignored them, couldn’t think of anything but the ramifications of Julien’s revelation. “It is not all right! Julien, you don’t understand what you’ve done. You could be killed.”

The shock of her slap seemed to hold Julien mute, his lips moving but no sound coming out. He blinked at her, a crease furrowing his brow. Then, little by little, a grin spread over his mouth. “And that would sadden you? If I were killed?”

“You insufferable…pirate.” Dominique crossed her arms and looked away, refusing to give Julien the satisfaction. The cursed man just stood there, still grinning like an idiot. Even though she wasn’t looking at him anymore, she could still see that smile, could practically feel it. “Maybe a little.”

“Well then perhaps I need an incentive, something to give me the strength to fight, to prevail—to come home.”

Julien snared her wrist, the muscles of his biceps flexing as he pulled her closer. Dominique considered resisting, part of her wanting to hold on to her temper, hold on to the protection it afforded her. Despite his teasing, he’d made a deal he couldn’t possibly understand. Ogou was not a gentle soul. Service to him would be dangerous. Even for an
impundulu.

“Do not look so worried,
mi amore.
” He stepped closer, taking her into his arms without moving her. Gently, he stroked her hair, whispering a steady stream of nonsense in Old Sanguenese.

She allowed herself to fold into his embrace, to take the comfort he offered despite her misgivings. Worrying wouldn’t do any good now anyway. Whatever would come would come.

“Dominique, will you marry me?”

Her eyebrows rose as she leaned back and met Julien’s serious gaze. “We are already married.”

“No. A proper marriage.” Julien held up her hand, his fingers caressing hers with touching reverence. He tapped at the gold circle on her finger, the one her assistants had picked out minutes before their impromptu ceremony. “With a ring I buy you myself. A ring I will choose because it fits you, is close to being worthy of you.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I’ll even steal one for you, if you like. I know how you love a story.”

Tears blurred Dominique’s vision again and she didn’t blink for fear of sending them cascading down her cheeks. “You will steal nothing. But, yes. Yes, you foolish, foolish pirate. I will marry you.” She rubbed his beard, nostalgia washing over her at the sight of the blue strands tickling her palm. “I suppose you’ll want me to remove this, first?”

Julien rubbed his hand over the stubble at his chin. “No. I’ve decided to keep it. My way of keeping you close.” He grinned. “Besides, if we are to have a proper wedding, you’ll need something old, and something new, something borrowed…”

Dominique laughed. “And something blue.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Julien shouted as he leapt through the air, the strength of the music and the building energy of the dance holding him in midair for an impossibly long moment before he landed on light feet, spinning, rising, kicking, and leaping into the air again. Around him, laughter and cheers rose up, gaining volume with every beat of the drums. Fantastic colors decorated the people tonight, bright clothes, face paint, feathers, and all manner of other decoration. It was the final night of the Midsummer celebration, and no one was holding back.

The cheers reached an ear-splitting crescendo and Julien opened his arms and whirled again. A woman stepped into the circle of bodies that had surrounded him and his dance.

Dominique. His wife. His bonded.

Dark curls piled and pinned at the side of her neck, the rich bounty spilling down the pleated bodice. Her blood red skirts flowed around her, the material shuddering in the breeze like… He let out a surprised laugh. Feathers. She was wearing a dress adorned with thousands of dyed feathers. Streaks of silver metal sparkled from beneath the crimson plumes as she moved, the firelight playing over them so they danced and shone like bolts of lightning.

Her magic pulsed inside of him, stronger than his heartbeat and more comforting, more real. He shouted his joy, a wild sound of abandon perfectly at home with the chaos of the world’s greatest celebration. He bolted across the circle, hunger building inside him, driving him forward faster.

A laugh burst from Dominique’s throat and she darted out of the way before he could close his arms around her. She threw her body into a dizzying series of twirls, dips, and kicks, every movement so graceful it seemed as though the
loa
themselves had deigned to move her, lending her their power, their grace. More laughter spilled from behind her gold half-mask, brown eyes sparkling as she winked at him, dared him to join her.

It was an echo of their first meeting, the first night he’d clapped eyes on her in her Midsummer regalia, drawn to the brown eyes sparkling with life beneath the gold mask, bewitched into longing by her glossy crimson lips. Her magic had licked at him then, taunted him, coaxed him to try and catch the sly maiden dancing beyond his reach. He’d caught her that night, and he would catch her tonight.

And this time, he wouldn’t let go.

The crowd cheered them on, the women urging Dominique to hurry, to dance faster and farther. The men shouted at Julien, drove him to work harder, be quicker. Each of them were bound by the moves of the dance, not freely running, but bobbing and spiraling about to the music that pulsed inside of them both like second heartbeats.

Once, twice, three times Julien thought he had her, stretched out a hand only to have her pirouette away. Every time she eluded him, his hunger grew, blood heating, the primal need to catch her and claim her driving back his humanity and letting the beast that lay in all men take more and more control.

Dominique laughed, shook her head…and winked.

Julien dove for her, shattering the rhythm of the dance. The crowd roared in shared excitement as he half-tackled her, drove her out of the circle. Her feet left the ground, legs wrapping around him, holding on for dear life as all the energy that had been building with every spin, every taunt, drove him farther and farther from spying eyes.

Dominique’s laughter bubbled out of her, full of infectious joy. Julien didn’t laugh with her this time though, he had no laughter. He’d spent it all and now there was only hunger. Hunger and the need to consummate their marriage, the need to have her as only he would ever have her from this point forward.

The bayou welcomed them, the sprawling cypress trees bending their soft grey trunks out of his way, the grass greener, more tender, inviting. The moonlight fell over them, softer than the firelight of the celebration in the village, colors muted by the pale silver glow and caressing shadows.

He cradled her body against him as he lowered her to the ground with the reverence she deserved. The sweet blades of grass caressed his skin as he slid one arm from behind her, slowly lifted the mask from her face. “Dominique…”

Her beauty stole his breath away. More than that, more than her beauty, was the familiarity of her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. He’d seen that face every time he closed his eyes over the past ten years. He’d run from it, run from the feelings it inspired. The desire to go back. The fear of never leaving.

Gentle hands on his face drew him from his memory, startled him back into the present. Dominique smiled at him, a knowing look in her deep brown eyes.

She parted her lips as if to speak, but he dipped his head down and covered her mouth with his. He didn’t want her words, not now. She could reassure him later, tell him everything was all right, that she was all right, they were all right. For now he wanted more than words—he wanted her to show him what his reality was now—what it would be as long as they drew breath.