Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Whenever I woke, it was in flickers of warped reality. I was still in that black hole, watching a door open and close only feet away. Priest and Ashley flashed in and out of the doorway, talking to me without sound, reaching for me, always too far away.
Shackled and weak, I couldn’t crawl toward them. My legs wouldn’t move.
Gradually, the door opened less often, and the murk around me grew darker, stretching longer. Flashes of Priest transformed. His cheeks hollowed out, narrowing his face. Whiskers thickened, lengthening into a short beard. I barely recognized him.
Where was Ashley?
I called out for him, but he stopped appearing in the doorway. Sometimes Priest was there, his silver eyes ablaze with grim emotion. But Ashley was gone. I sensed his absence like a missing limb.
Perhaps that was the impetus that drove me from death. From within the suffocating black hole of silence and decay, I clawed my way out. Hands scrabbling, muscles writhing, and lungs panting, I woke on a gasp in the blinding rays of sunlight.
There was no motion. No rocking or waves. I was on land?
My surroundings came in bursts of hazy images—silk fabric, sumptuous wood furnishings, embroidered brocades, silver sconces, and mullioned windows that yawned open to a cerulean sky.
As the mingled aromas of brine and sweet grassy fields tickled my nose, I had no sense of people. No sound. No movement.
Where the devil was I?
“Ahoy? Anyone there?”
Faster than the words could leave my mouth, Priest was in my face, climbing onto the bed and leaning in with bright gray eyes and a freshly shaved jaw.
Everything rushed at me at once—questions, breaths, dizziness, joy, and pain. Yes, the pain persisted. But it didn’t consume. It felt nothing like before.
“Where are we?” I tried to sit up, commanding muscles that refused to respond. “How long has it been? Where’s Ashley? My ship? Reynolds and—”
He pressed a finger against my lips and pinned me with his steady gaze, calming me, compelling my lungs to slow down. His touch lifted to my forehead, his palm flattening to test my temperature.
I didn’t sense a fever. Just dull aches beneath healing wounds. And fatigue. I’d never felt this exhausted and feeble in my life.
He didn’t need to ask if my hearing had returned. Since I couldn’t judge volume or pronunciation, my voice would sound ill-fitting to his ears.
I love you. Sculpted lips gave shape to those three syllables a second before they claimed my mouth.
The scent of sea and leather saturated my senses as he sipped with warm, unhurried licks, kissing me sweetly, without tongue or expectation. His hands rested on the mattress on either side of my head, his arms bracing the weight of his upper body.
The reunion of our lips freed a solemnity of emotion I’d kept buried and guarded for so long. I melted beneath the sheer force of it, surrendering to the love and longing that buzzed through our breaths.
His tongue played along the seam of my mouth but didn’t force its way in. This wasn’t a kiss that took and controlled. This was his devotion reaching out and caressing me, giving and nourishing, making me strong again.
He shifted, trailing his lips across a cheek that no longer throbbed with pain, roaming down my neck to my arm…
The arm was still there, the brace and stitches gone. It felt strange, itchy, sore… Whole. My relief was unwieldy as he kissed a wandering path over the crisscrossed scars near my inner elbow, the flesh pink and bubbled.
No more infection. His mouth fashioned the words against the healing wound, and I felt his smile, his relief, curving upward, tickling the tender skin.
A leather thong held the top half of his hair at the back of his head, but a few strands had fallen free, framing a face that was accustomed to being regarded with feminine pleasure.
He’d thinned out a little, but his complexion glowed with health. I wanted so badly to slide my hands over his sloping shoulders, up the column of his neck, and across his defined cheekbones. My fingers twitched, and he caught them, lifting them to his jaw.
Instant heat hit my palms. So hotblooded, this man, with a temper that always simmered just below the surface.
He’d shaved only hours ago, for there wasn’t a trace of stubble on his satiny skin. A shirt and breeches clad his muscled frame in his preferred pirate style, only these garments appeared cleaner. No rips or bloodstains.
I still didn’t know where we were.
My arms trembled with fatigue as he lowered them. Then he stepped away, widening my view to the bedchamber.
It reminded me of the one I’d occupied as a child in Charleston. I lay in a bed with four large wooden posts. Tiers of dark silk draped the rails overhead. Wool carpets, a table set with porcelain plates, silver sconces to provide light—the room glittered with wealth and elegance.