Kindred of the Fallen (52 page)

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Mistress of the Stone:

Xander awoke with the delicate arm of a woman across his midsection. He looked down and smiled to find Luísa lying next to him.

He scanned the dim room. His sister wasn’t here as far as he could tell. Even invisible, she usually manifested a faint mist of effervescence.

It hurt to move, but he managed to turn so he could face his bunkmate.

She was a lovely she-cat. Her skin was smooth and tanned, and her hair was the color of Brazilian mahogany. Her soft, pouty mouth begged for kissing. But so young.

Inácio Tavares had raised his daughter as a pirate to protect her. A bold scheme if ever there was one. How could a father know that decision sealed her fate?

He pushed a curl of dark hair off her face.

She’d enter the tomb for him. He was sure of it. But he had to get her through the jungle first, before Saint-Sauveur retook their trail. The merged stone could only be used once and only on the blood moon. He had no right to choose who was worthier of freedom, but he was willing to take that license if it meant saving his little sister from an eternity without rest.

The curse of the werewolf was an act of God. There was no guarantee the moonstone would even help the lycan. But it would help the lost souls. It was Luísa’s ancestor and that cursed stone that had trapped the dead on this island in the first place. Only the stone and the Sorceress’s descendent could set them free. And both were within his grasp.
 

Luísa stirred momentarily, looking like a flower stretching its petals outward.

Xander felt unusually guilty. This wasn’t her fight. It wasn’t her burden, but without the girl’s help, their suffering would have been for naught.

A monkey’s rowdy chitter redirected his attention. He looked up at an unshuttered window above their makeshift bed. There, looking quite the dandy, was Koko, Sibyl’s Capuchin monkey.

He was a reckless little fellow with warm brown eyes that looked like pools of melted cacao and a grin that always betrayed his wicked intentions. The saucy monkey was a thief—and a good one too.

Koko wound his way down to Luísa’s side. He seemed as much in awe of her beauty as Daltry, but it was the moonstone pendant she wore around her neck that caught his fancy.

With Luísa on her side, the only thing Koko could see was the glimmer of silver surrounding the watery blue stone, but that seemed enough to lure the naughty monkey into more nefarious deeds.

It began with a little paw gently pulling her hair out of the way so he could see his prize. Luísa turned around then so that she lay flat on her back. The little heathen grinned with delight.

The pendant reburied itself under her shirt leaving Koko with only one possible solution. With his tail hooked around the base of the window, he rolled his body until he hung upside down. Once in position, he unbuttoned the top button of her shirt, looking up at Daltry only once to make sure his deed wouldn’t risk intervention.

Daltry felt a similar lascivious grin creeping on his mouth. He perched his head on one hand and, like a grand potentate, waved permission to Koko with the other.

Koko widened his mouth to a toothy grin, a wet excited breath escaping through his teeth. The monkey snapped a perfectly English salute before pawing furiously on a second button.

Daltry began to have stirrings of his own. His wounds were healing, but it hurt to take a deep breath. That didn’t seem to stop his sex from returning a firm salute of its own.

The depraved little beast, (the one with monkey breath), wormed his way down to the third button even though he could easily cup the prize in his greedy hands.

It was then Luísa woke up. Her eyelids fluttered a bit before they opened, but when they did they flew wide, her soft pouty lips following suit, screaming a slew of curses Daltry had never heard from a woman before.

She jerked to a sitting position even while Koko jumped back, mimicking her screams octave by octave, his little hands shooting into the air in submission.

Daltry, who had been showered with loosened monkey fur and spit when Koko made his hasty retreat, barked a laugh that ended with a painful wince. He didn’t care. The look of horror on both these heathen creatures was worth the suffering.

He choked back his laughter when Luísa smacked him with her grass-woven pillow.

“Were you going to let that beast undress me?” She screeched at him like a wheel about to come off its pins.

Daltry caught his breath and held on to his sides. “Come now, luv. It’s not as if this love affair would ever last. He only wanted you for your treasure.”

Luísa smacked the pillow straight at his face and jumped up, grabbing her shirt closed as she did so.

Koko, ever the accommodating mercenary, clapped his little hands at the magnificent beating, then saluted Luísa on a job well done.

“I’m not through with you either, little man,” she said, pointing a finger at the monkey.

Koko clasped his paws together and hung his head in a penitent pose. He lifted his eyes only once to see if Luísa was still watching.

Her mouth twisted to a smirk and then a full grin before she broke into laughter.

“Blasted monkey. No doubt he belongs to you.”

Daltry sat up against the wall and gestured to the monkey. “You could say Koko is his own man, but he always has an eye out for pretty girls, especially those wearing shiny baubles.”

“Bah!” She barked at Koko, shoving her hands at him.

Koko returned the compliment by jumping on the mat between them and hooting at her.

Luísa crossed her arms. “You don’t impress me, beast.”

The monkey seemed to think about this for a moment before he raced up her leg and into the crook of her folded arms, bussing her cheek with a kiss of apology.

What little resolve she had left washed away in an instant. “You little imp,” she said and cradled him in her arms.

Koko leaned his head against her chest and sucked his thumb.

Luísa pulled out the pendant and showed it to him. “You see. It’s not much. A worthless blue stone on a silver chain. My boots cost more.”

Koko listened to her intently while fondling the jewel. At long last, he seemed to agree with her assessment and gave her another kiss before jumping out the window.

Xander snorted a laugh. “Do your lovers always leave you so quickly?”

“You’re not funny. That hairy beast scared the devil out of me.”

Daltry didn’t smile. “It seems I’ve given you cause to know worse.”

Luísa swallowed visibly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Your sister told me about your affliction. It startled me at first, but I understand now.”

“It’s not an affliction. Being a werewolf isn’t the curse. It’s not knowing when the change will come on that causes us grief. We can’t control it—not on our own anyway.”

“That’s why you use the wolfsbane. To keep you from turning involuntarily.”

“Yes. But it’s a false blessing. The wolfsbane is addictive, and it takes more and more of that vile weed in order to control our urges. That’s why so many of our kind live here, where we won’t frighten anyone should the change take us unaware.”

“But you don’t live here. I’ve heard stories of you sailing the seas for years.”

Daltry looked away. “Yes. After my sister…” He looked up, his brow furrowed in anger. “My sister—”

Luísa knelt down and put her hand on his arm. “She’s dead. I know. She told me. She said Saint-Sauveur killed her.”

“Aye, and that devil has stayed out of my reach since then. It takes a whole army to watch his back, and every were-tribe on the island recognizes him as pack leader.” His hands curled into fists. “But I’ve not forgotten my oath. I’ll have his wolf’s head if it’s the last thing I do on this Earth.”

“Then we both have a score to settle. I want Saint-Sauveur too. He has my father, and I intend to get him back.”

“We’ll get your father, luv, then I’ll get you both off this island.” He sat up straighter and squinted in the dim light, trying to locate his sister, but it seemed he and Luísa were alone. “Why isn’t my sister here?”

“She said she had to gather allies for you.”

Daltry grunted. “Allies! Damn that girl. She’s wasting her time. She’s probably gone to visit Jovis, the werewolf leader on this island. I wish she had waited for me to wake up. I don’t like her going alone.”

“No disrespect, but I don’t see that there’s much that can harm a ghost. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Aye. You’re right, of course.” He sighed in resignation. “She’s suffered so at my expense. If I had been there for her—”

“Someone was with her. She said she didn’t die alone.”

He huffed at her. “So she tells me. But she refuses to name this guardian and that vexes me.”

Luísa’s quirked her mouth into a lopsided grin. “Sibyl lit up when she spoke of her companion. Methinks it was a paramour—and she doesn’t want a troublesome brother giving him grief.”

Daltry nodded. “I knew she’d been seeing someone before she died. I suspected it was someone from the pack. Sibyl caught the attention of every werewolf on the island.” He barked a laugh. “I was always running them off.”

“You love your sister very much.”

“Aye, I do. She’s the only kin I have who hasn’t turned her back on me. If Saint-Sauveur hadn’t reached you first, I would’ve stolen you off the
Coral
and brought you here myself. I want only to give Sibyl peace. You understand, don’t you, Luísa?” He shifted and looked at her hesitantly. “I’m not asking for myself, but for her.”

Luísa fussed with the pendant at her breast. Hesitantly, she raised her eyes, then planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “You saved my life, Xander Daltry. Man or wolf, I owe you a debt.”

“Luísa, you should understand the risks.”

“I understand family. And I understand duty. I still think you have the wrong woman, but lead me to this second moonstone and I’ll gladly do what I can.”

Daltry felt his apprehension evaporate. “Bless you,” he whispered.

Luísa fingered the knotty weave of the grass mat bed. She glanced up at him before casting her gaze elsewhere. “You’re probably hungry. I’ll see what I can muster.” She stood up, careful to step around him.

Daltry scrunched the blanket around his loins. He was uncomfortably aware of an erection that refused to diminish.

“Sibyl usually keeps tea for me in that little gray jar above the hearth.”

Luísa rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, I’m a little suspect of her tea.”

Daltry rubbed the back of his neck. “Hmm…I thought she slipped me something extra. But not to worry, the sleeping powder is something she adds to the water.”

Luísa picked up the clay jar and unwrapped the cloth covering. The crumbled remains of chamomile lined the bottom of the bowl. If they were lucky, she might get two cups out of it. She brought it over for him to sniff. “Are you sure this tea is safe?”

He took a shallow whiff and then a deeper one. “It’s safe.” He looked up at her. “Did she drug you too?”

“Yes. She wanted to make sure I stayed put.”

“My sister is nothing if not resourceful. The tea leaves are harmless though. She’d not keep the two ingredients together.” He readjusted the coverlet to better hide the growing appreciation of his houseguest.

He had to stop staring at her. But he couldn’t help it. Soft blush cheeks and the warm embrace of her smoldering gaze kept him prisoner. Even the scent of her inspired him with carnal thoughts.

The need for a mate gnawed at him. He’d not mated when he should have, and Luísa’s proximity reignited the primal urge.

A woman had been selected for him, a werewolf like himself, but he had no conscious desire for her, except for the savage ache that drove all of them. Luísa was different. He wanted her, needed her—not as a wolf, but as a man.

His common sense told him not to threaten the only chance he had to save his sister’s soul, but the animal side of him, the part that knew only passion, wanted this woman beneath him. The hairs on his hands grew incrementally.

Luísa came toward him with a fine china cup and weak tea. Her eyes seemed to see through him, perhaps preferring that to acknowledging his nakedness.

“What’s it like,” she said. “Being a wolf?” She sat at his side, student to his every word. There was an eagerness in her voice and the need to know. She picked up a soiled rag and scraped at the crusted blood on his arm. “Does it hurt to change?”

“A little. You get used to it.” The rag skimmed across the hair on his arms, teasing it with a delicious itch.
Harder, Luísa. Harder.

“It must be lonely—living like that.” She paused her ministrations, and her breaths grew shallow, suddenly aware of her proximity to him.

“There are more of us than you know. We live among the common folk every day, though I dare say, we keep our distance. We’re in no hurry to meet the hangman’s noose.”

Daltry put down his tea then took her hand, pressing it gently against his chest. Her touch—even through the cloth—seared him, and yet he couldn’t bear to let her go. “Do I still frighten you?”