The curse of Kalaan (30 page)

He came back to her walking seductively, but stopped in his tracks when Virginie started giggling as she looked at his hips.

“Blasted woman’s bloomers!” Kalaan growled before laughing with her and tearing off the lace and cloth of the annoying undergarment. Finally he was free.

Virginie, suddenly breathless, stopped laughing, for Kalaan, sublimely naked, was standing before her. He was once again the god of lava, and she was already quivering at the thought of being consumed by him, over and over again. Kneeling near her, he asked her to turn her back to him and started to slowly undress her, kissing and gently biting every inch of skin as he freed it from her clothing.

Still behind her, Kalaan cupped her breasts in his hands lightly playing with her hardened nipples. He leaned his powerful chest against her back while gently pushing his hips into her making her feel the extent of his imperious need for her. Virginie, moaned, her loins on fire and her heart throbbing. She leaned her head back and placed her lips on his neck biting him too. He groaned, and his caresses became more and more insistent. With one hand he reached down under her skirts.

Kalaan began stroke her warm intimacy while rocking in rhythm with Virginie, their mouths locked together and their tongues meeting and dancing around one another. He slid two fingers inside the warm humid heart of her femininity and drank in her panting breath. Quickly, he liberated her from the few vestiges of clothing that could be an obstacle to the culmination of their passion.

Facing each other, they were both naked on their knees and Kalaan could finally admire the beauty of his beloved. The contours of her velvet-like skin were lit gold by the light of the fire.

Words were useless, and the lovers gave in to their desire to be united as one. Virginie pushed Kalaan onto his back and climbed on top of him. Impaling herself on his member, she let out a long cry of sheer voluptuous pleasure. Surprised by her verve and enthusiasm, Kalaan clenched his teeth and thrust his manhood even deeper inside her, gripping her hips with his hands to prevent her from moving.

“Gently, Ginny my love,” he groaned before letting out a muffled moan as the young woman’s intimate muscles began contracting around his sex.

The hell with gently!
He was overcome with violent urge to rock back and forth inside her, powerfully plunging to hear her sigh and sing out her pleasure.

Kalaan began moving faster and faster, Virginie rocking to meet him each time he thrust his organ into her sheath. They were united as one being, and the wave of ecstasy swelled inside them consuming the two lovers before finally carrying them to the ultimate explosion of pleasure where they shouted their love for each other.

They had just experienced a true explosion of senses and their bodies trembled for a long moment before their breathing finally slowed enough for them to close their eyes and find sweet rest.

It was paradise until they were shaken awake by pounding on the door and Lil’ Louis’ worried voice calling out. This was unusual behavior for the old man, so they knew something very serious had happened!

Chapter 19

The time has come

            
 
V
irginie hurriedly pulled her dress on over her naked body while Kalaan strode into the next room, coming out a few minutes later wearing dark trousers and pulling on a white shirt. His face was taut with tension as he glanced at the young women. She nodded her head to confirm she was ready before he turned the key in the lock and opened the door onto Lil’ Louis. The chief mate was standing there, deathly pale, fist in the air ready to start pounding again.

“
Mabig
[68]
! There’s been trouble!” he shouted as he entered the room. He was in such a state of turmoil that he didn’t notice Virginie in the room.

“You’re injured!” Kalaan exclaimed in concern as he took a step forward. Lil’ Louis’ shirt was covered in blood.

“’Tisn’t mine!” the old man reassured his captain as he pulled his trousers up over his potbelly.

“Who…?”

“Let me speak lad and I’ll tell ye! This mornin’ we took the Darius person and the priest on board like ye asked. ‘Tis certain! We had a good laugh, t’were all sick as dogs all the day, the boat was pitchin’ hard. Oy even thought they were gonners, they dinna move until we reached shore this evenin’. The boys carried Charles-Louis onto the levee and put him on the cart. But the other one… when we turned round for him, he was standin’ straight and tall, fresh as a daisy!
Ma Doue
, Oy’ve never seen anything like it! It takes a week for a man to recover like that. The last time Oy vomited for hours…”

“And the blood?” Kalaan interrupted him impatient to learn the origin of the red stains.

“
Ya
,” Lil’ Louis sighed as he scratched his head. He was avoiding the count’s eyes, to hide his sadness. “’Tis yer wolf,” he finally said. “’Came out of nowhere and started growlin’ and barin’ his teeth at Darius. ‘Twas scary he was, th’beast! Most o’ the men were petrified. But… not Darius. He started laughin’ and the wolf leaped at ‘im. That’s where the devil pulled out a knife and stabbed the wolf in midair! He was laughin’ like a madman and would have stabbed the poor beast again and again if we hadn’t surrounded him!
Doue
... he enjoyed that... and his laugh... t’would freeze yer blood.”

The entire time the old man was speaking Kalaan quietly listened. He stood very still with a darkly dangerous expression on his face. He was once again the ruthless pirate, ready to face the enemy. Everything about him made him almost frightening the controlled rage, his nostrils flaring with every breath. He understood that after detecting the scent of the person who had killed the sheep, the husky followed his trail all the way to the port where he found Darius Borgas.

“He’s crazy, that one, yes he is,” Lil’ Louis declared sitting heavily on the bench facing the door. “He, he licked th’blood on the knife and went off towards the inn whistlin’, as if nothing happened.”

After hearing Lil’ Louis’ horrible account of what happened to Skedaddle, Virginie’s legs were shaking, but she hid her fear and approached the old sea dog, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, which made him jump. It was the first time he noticed her presence in the room.

“Mam’selle Ginny, yer here!” he cried out, trying unsuccessfully to stand up. The young woman took his hands in hers and sat next to him.

“It’s all right, Lil’ Louis, you’re with us now,” she whispered, using a voice she would have used with a child. She wanted to reassure him, but also reassure herself. Darius’ behavior proved he was a lunatic.

“
Nann
[69]
, not after what I saw...” he murmured, shaking his head as if to forget the horrible scene.

“I will take care of him,” Kalaan growled through his clenched teeth, his voice hardened and hoarse with anger. He put on his boots and jacket before attaching his sword to his waist and picking up his pistol.

Now it was Lil’ Louis turn to keep Virginie from standing up. She wanted to block Kalaan’s path.

“You won’t be able to stop him,” he said to her. “And you mustn’t!” In a louder voice he addressed Kalaan, who was leaving the longhouse. “’Tisn’t dead!”

“Who?” asked the young count, who had stopped and turned his head. Virginie could see the muscles of his clenched jaw and the blood pulsing in his artery.

“The wolf, I took it to Jaouen and Salam. When I left them, he was still breathing, but he’s lost a lot of blood…”

Kalaan nodded understanding the message Lil’ Louis was trying to pass — that the husky was dying. His eyes met Virginie’s; the young woman was silent, her face tense with anguish and he took her in his arms.

“Return to the castle with Lil’ Louis. He can then go find Clovis, and tell him everything that’s happened.”

“The butler?” the chief mate asked in surprise.

“‘Tis an excellent ally,” explained Kalaan. “As for you, my sweet, you must warn my mother and sister and then lock yourself in a room upstairs, preferably your own room so I will know where to find you. Do not come down unless I call you. Is that clear?”

Virginie nodded her head.

“And the duchess?” she asked, trying to steady her voice to show Kalaan he could count on her.

The count gave her a smile dripping with irony.“You do nothing about her; just leave her be.”

He kissed Virginie rapidly on the lips, then pulled away and headed straight for the door. Just before leaving he gave Lil’ Louis some last instructions.

“I want all the men armed and ready to act. In the fortress, the village and the lighthouse. Darius Borgas is dangerous! Let him return to the castle for supper and when he arrives in the sitting room I will be there to close the trap.

Lil’ Louis’ eyes lit up at the thought of vengeance as he squared his shoulders and stuck out his impressive belly. “Let the battle begin!” he proclaimed with a predatory grin.

Kalaan nodded and strode off into the night without even one last look at Virginie. He was no longer the man who had held her against him earlier. He was now a cold-hearted warrior ready for combat. She shuddered and Lil’ Louis put a protective arm around her, and spoke quietly. It was his turn to be reassuring.

“Everything will be fine, Mam’selle. The cap’n knows wot he’s doing. Let’s return to the castle and then Oy’ll go alert the men. We have our work cut out for us.”

A short time later, on the south side of the isle, in the pitch-black darkness of the night, Kalaan arrived at Jaouen’s cottage and entered without knocking. Standing at the door he saw the druid on his knees next to the husky lying on an old cloth, near the fireplace. Jaouen was stroking the dog’s side, murmuring calming words. Kalaan was so preoccupied by the animal’s condition that he didn’t immediately notice Salam standing in a dark corner of the room.

“How is he?” he asked, approaching them. The husky yipped and weakly wagged his tail in happiness at seeing his master, which greatly reassured and comforted Kalaan.

“See for yourself,” the old druid replied in a soft voice.

Kalaan’s eyes widened in astonishment. There was no visible wound, nor was there any blood on the animal’s white and gray coat!

“I thought he’d been fatally wounded by Darius’ blade,” he gasped, thunderstruck. He knelt down too, to run his fingers through the thick fur, searching for a wound.

“He was,” Jaouen calmly confirmed in a voice with mysterious overtones. “Your precious Skedaddle is still very weak from all the blood he lost. Fortunately, Lil’ Louis brought him to us before it was too late. A few minutes more and Dorian couldn’t have helped him.”

“Dorian?” Kalaan asked, confused. It was one surprise after another.

He raised his eyebrows while his amber-green eyes expressed his complete bewilderment. Who was the old druid talking about? Kalaan knew no one by the name of Dorian.

At that moment he felt a strong presence behind him. In one graceful movement he stood up, hand on the hilt of his sword, and swiftly turned around, only to freeze on the spot. Kalaan was looking into Salam’s warm and brotherly eyes, only the man before him was no longer really his Tuareg friend.

“Leave your sword in its scabbard, my brother. You’ll have no use for it against me.”

It was indeed Salam’s voice as well as his way of speaking. Nevertheless, the man Kalaan had always known as Salam, the Tuareg had little to do with the man he was now facing. The two men had similar builds, but he was slightly taller than the count and was no longer wearing the traditional blue cloth of a Tuareg. He had apparently borrowed some clothes, for he was dressed in trousers with a three-quarter jacket, a white jabot collared shirt and beige boots.

His face framed by dark shoulder length hair with red highlights had the same harmoniously virile features as before and Kalaan remembered thinking at one time that his friend looked more European than Middle Eastern. Salam, or Dorian, as he was calling himself now, was obviously not a Berber.

“Would someone please explain what is happening?” he asked, growling between his clenched teeth and narrowing his eyes, “Have you been the victim of a curse as well?”

“If that was ever the case, it would not have been a divine intervention,” Dorian replied serenely, while keeping an eye on his friend’s hand, still on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white from gripping. He went on to clarify slightly. “I was simply a victim of time and oblivion, due to my young age.”