Alphas of Black Fortune Complete Series (14 page)

This time, when Kelly came awake, it was not a gentle shake from Cort. It was the horrible breath and persistent
snuffling
of a great grizzly bear. With a hack and a curse, he sat bolt upright, waving Fat Tom off.

“Desist,” he snapped, wiping at his face. “What in the bloody hell?”

“Came back and found you unconscious, Cap’n,” Cort said worriedly. He pointed to a nearby waterskin. “I even doused you in river water and you didn’t wake up.”

Kelly realized his top half was, indeed, soaking wet. “
Snakes
. There were snakes. I…but I seem to be fine…Did you find—”

“Kelly!” That was Cressida’s voice.

He got himself to his feet, grabbing ahold of Fat Tom’s furry shoulder to leverage himself up, and turned, watching with incredible relief as Cressida came stumbling out of the jungle, waving her arms at him.

“Where have you been?” he shouted. “I was worried sick!”

“I found the Keeper of the Jewel!” She was soaked too, he realized, his head tilting in perfectly normal male appreciation as she came running towards him, all her beautiful curves bouncing and swaying with her movements.

“Wait, what?” But to his surprise, she flew right into his arms. He caught her, the force of it knocking him back a step, his arms tight around her. “Cress? You found it?”

“Yes.” She’d buried her face in his shoulder. “Yes, and don’t argue with me, but we have to go back and get Reza.”

His sails lost some wind at that. “Why?”

“Because we need him to get the jewel,” she said, squeezing him. “It’s got to be you and me and him. We have to stop him marrying that other girl.”

“I don’t understand…” He loosened his arms so that he could look down into her face. Her expression, he thought, was a tangle of things he couldn’t untie. Some mixture of hope and terror and confusion and relief. “What did the Keeper tell you?”

“It’s complicated,” Cressida said. “I promise I’ll tell you everything, but there isn’t time now. I want to tell you both together. Just trust me, it
has
to be the two of you.”

Kelly looked down into her bright blue eyes and knew he’d relent, no matter what it she wanted. Wouldn’t he? The idea of returning to the tribal village, especially empty-handed,
especially
to find Reza, did not sit well in his stomach, but his heart told him to follow Cressida Avery to the ends of the earth if he had to. She seemed so determined now. The thought of having the jewel, this woman, and being able to save his den was more a dream of peace and paradise than he had let himself hope for. And that hope, even now, might have been folly. But he found he was so close to having these things he so desperately wanted that he didn’t care, and hoped violently for them anyway.

He nodded. “All right. Let’s go get him.”

Reza was slumped in a corner of the jailer’s hut, a group of six guards huddled outside to keep watch over him. They needn’t have bothered. He was still weak from his fight with Chaiya, and by now his heart was empty of hope. He’d no fight left in him, and nowhere to go even if he did manage to escape. He watched as the shafts of sunlight that mottled the floor moved slowly along, day waning into afternoon. Soon it would be time for his wedding, if indeed Sajja still intended him to marry Prija. Either that or, as the sun set against the canopy, he would be made to fight Chaiya again, and he would almost certainly lose.

Kamala had come and gone several times over the course of the day. First, she’d brought in a basin of clean water and a cloth, and cleaned his wounds, bandaging him as best she could, mewling nervously over each scratch and bite and bit of blood. She told him that Chaiya refused to talk to her, and that he and his father had been holed up in the chieftain’s hut for hours. Deliberating, she supposed, or arguing. Chaiya was openly calling for the blood fight now, but Kamala didn’t think that Sajja wanted to grant him the rite. Better to bring Reza into the tribe, not discard the last scion of his father’s line. But Reza thought that Sajja would buckle to Chaiya in the end. It was cleaner. End the line of rebellion, squash any further resistance with an ancient rite and be done with it forever.

The second time she came to him, she brought food. He had no appetite, but forced himself to eat some of the fish and fruit, knowing it would help improve his strength. There still had been no decision one way or the other. But Reza knew, as he watched those slats of sunlight turn orange and edge toward violet, that the news would come soon enough. Sajja would not let the decision extend beyond the appointed time for the wedding.

Just before sunset, Prija came to see him. He didn’t particularly want to look at her, but she sank down to her knees before him, and he found it difficult to avoid meeting her gaze. Her expression was earnest, her face beautiful, and he thought again that had he never left this island or his tribe, he could have honestly loved her.

“They’ll decide soon,” she said softly.

He nodded.

“I’ve spoken to Kamala. I know that this is not an insult aimed at me. I wanted you to know that I respect you greatly for standing up to my father.” Her eyes flashed, bright and green.

“I’m sorry, Prija,” he murmured.

She shook her head. “I love another too, Reza.”

At that, he blinked, surprised. “You do?”

“Yes, but father wanted me for you. I would not have been brave enough to fight him.”

“Well, it may yet be Chaiya I have to fight.” Reza laughed humorlessly.

Prija grimaced. “Maybe. I’ve made a bid to keep you, to save you.”

Reza was touched by her generosity, but his heart sank a little. He could defy Sajja and Chaiya, but he knew if it came to it he would have to accept Prija. If she saved his life today, he could not turn her away. Even if neither one of them wanted it. He reached out and touched a bit of her orange hair, smiling though it hurt his wounded face to do so.

“Thank you, Prija.”

As though the sun itself was satisfied with their words, it set.

The tribal gongs began to thrum, the sound of drums lifting to meet them. Prija helped Reza to his feet, and both of them turned towards the hut’s entrance, watching for the telltale slide of shadows across the threshold, heralding the chieftain’s arrival.

“Oh no,
Reza
,” Prija gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, eyes widening in fear.

He realized it, too, in the same moment. The drums were not beating out either a celebratory tattoo or one calling the tribe together to witness a rite. The rhythm was one that shook down into Reza’s bones, one that he had not heard since the day he’d been stolen away from home. It was the warning drum. A call to arms. The village was being attacked. And as Reza’s mind took a dizzying turn, his heart flip-flopping in his chest, he heard the roar of a bear and turned towards the hut’s far wall, watching as claws rent through the thatching, tearing a hole right through it. Stepping into the tear, her back lit by the last vestiges of the sun, was Cressida.

They had chased the sun all the way down the mountain. Through the jungle to the Stone Leap, across its wide expanse once more, past the Wailing Mother and her serpentine vines, back to the village. As soon as the perimeter guards caught sight of them, the drums and the gongs began to sound and Cressida knew that they had precious little time. Cort had shifted to join Fat Tom, engaging the guards and the warriors that followed, and Kelly had discarded his rapier, hulking down and transforming as well into a massive black bear, joining Cressida to fight their way to the hut surrounded by guards. Which, if Cressida was going to imprison Reza, she knew enough that she’d have to surround him with guards as well.

She had never seen Kelly’s bear form like this before; she had only caught a glimpse of it when he’d lunged at Reza on the
Oso Armonia
. He was gigantic and gleaming, a solid rock of glossy black fur and glistening white fangs. Magnificent as the tiger that she had seen Reza become, but in an entirely different way. More beautiful now that she knew she loved the man beneath it, perhaps, just as much as she loved the tiger.

Once Kelly had ripped apart the hut’s wall, Cressida hurried inside and right to Reza. She threw her arms around him, withdrawing quickly when he yelped and winced back, and she realized how wounded he was. Bruises littered the length of him, his midsection covered by sticky leaves and some kind of healing paste, but she could see that blood encrusted the edges. Lesions broke the smooth bronze of his skin, inflamed and painful looking, and one of his gorgeous gold-green eyes was swollen nearly shut as he looked down at her. Despite the black eye, though, she saw awe and gratitude in his gaze.

“We have to go,” she said quickly, glancing at the tiger girl in the hut with him. “I’m sorry, there’s no time. We have to go
now
.”

“What’s going on?” Reza asked, confusion plain in his eyes. “Why have you come back?”

She felt her heart swell, knew that desperation and love must have filled her eyes. “For you, idiot. I came for you. I need you.
Please
, come with us.”

Reza looked back at her for a long moment before he looked to the tiger girl and gave her a nod. “Good luck,” he said to her.

Then he reached down and took Cressida’s hand, and she squeezed his fingers before pulling him to the hole in the hut and back to Kelly, waiting for them on the other side.

“Hurry,” she said. “There must be a place in the jungle we can hide.”

“I know of one,” Reza told her.

She looked at Kelly, and the big bear lifted up onto his hind legs and tipped back his head, loosing a deafening, bellowing roar at the sky.

Two roars replied, and Kelly turned to go barreling back towards the jungle, clearing a wide path, swiping at any of the guards that came too near. Cressida ran after him, hand in hand with Reza, and she heard the thunderous clamor of at least one other bear falling in behind them before the sun had set completely, and they plunged back into the darkness of the jungle itself.

As they ran, Reza shed his trousers and the wreath around his neck, diving for the ground. He landed in his tiger skin, stripes rippling across sprouting golden-orange fur, and in two great gallops he overtook Kelly, dashing ahead to lead them. Cressida found herself sprinting madly through that darkened jungle, following after a bear and a tiger, the two great loves of her life. She didn’t know if it would work, if what the Keeper of the Jewel had told her was even possible. To love both, be loved by both? She didn’t know what the
mark
was, but she had a feeling it was not going to be easy to achieve, or accept, for any of them. But for now, at least in these wild moments of dashing to what felt like freedom, she could carry hope in her heart that all things were possible, especially if they began with love.

Mated By Beasts

(Alphas of Black Fortune: Part 4)

By Scarlett Rhone

As they raced through the jungle, the sounds of the tribal village fading at their backs, Cressida counted: one, two, three bears, and a tiger. All of them were there, and her heart began to calm, though when their pace slowed down, she perceived that Fat Tom was lumbering along with a considerable limp on one side. It was quickly the full dark of night as they ran, and Cressida found herself nearly trampling Cort’s paws as she hurried behind him, keeping his dark fur visibly ahead of her, the rounded movement of his bear hindquarters against the dark her guide.

Reza led them, his long, sleek form a darting shadow as he prowled ahead of them, clearing a path and often finding one that already existed, but that Cressida was certain none of them would have ever seen on their own. But of course he knew the secrets of the jungle, the hidden doorways, because it was his home. And Cressida had perhaps just ruined any chance he had of remaining here. Even as she felt the guilt of that tighten on her heart, she reminded herself that he had made a choice too. They would not have dragged him away. He’d chosen
her
. And she kept that truth close in her thoughts like the treasure it was, alongside the notion that perhaps Kelly loved her too.

It seemed to her at once impossibly selfish and yet not at all, the idea of the two of them loving her. It made sense in her heart because she was certain now that she loved both of them, but was it selfish to expect them to love her without forcing her to choose? Was it cruel of her to keep them both so close? Perhaps. But the Keeper of the Jewel had made it sound like it was also
right
, like it was the very thing that might save them, that she could love them both.

When at last they slowed from their punishing escape pace down to a more reasonable clip, Cressida watched Kelly prowl a ways away from the group. She tracked his progress, her view of him occasionally blurred or blocked by the thick vines and branches of the jungle path. Then, between one step and the next, his silhouette changed altogether. Cressida felt a quick gust of wind, and heard the shiver of the atmosphere as Kelly changed, then emerged back onto the path with them in his man skin.

He looked around and frowned when he saw what Cressida had already perceived: Fat Tom and his limp. He made a
hsst
noise at Reza, and the tiger came to a stop altogether, long tail lashing this way and that as he half-turned to look at the naked pirate. Cressida couldn’t really help staring at him; it wasn’t the time or the place for it, but Kelly was a tall, muscular man and Cressida had always appreciated his nude figure. He caught her looking at him, though, and arched an eyebrow at her. She blushed and looked away.

Cort shuffled up to Kelly’s side, a satchel still dangling from his big bear jaw. Kelly dug into it and pulled out a pair of trousers, climbing into them as Fat Tom came to attention as well.

“You take Fat Tom back to the ship,” Kelly instructed Cort. The brown bear made a whining noise, and Fat Tom growled, but Kelly shook his head. “It’s not up for discussion. We’ve just made enemies of an entire tribe of tigers, and you’re hurt. Go back to the ship, make sure that repairs are coming along double time. I suspect we’ll be leaving this island in something of a hurry, so it’s up to you two to get us stocked with as much food and supplies as you can without drawing the tigers’ notice.”

Reza had taken a seat back on his haunches, tail wrapped neatly about his gigantic paws.

The bears lowered their heads eventually, acquiescing to their captain, and Kelly nodded and took the satchel from Cort’s mouth. “Go on. We’ll sort things out here and meet you on the beach. Check in every evening, just after sunset, where we landed.” He looked at Reza. “Will you show them? Cressida and I will wait for you here, if you think it’s safe.”

Fat Tom made another noise of disagreement, but Cort headbutted him in the side and the huge grizzly bear stumbled on his bad leg. Point made. Reza got back to his feet with a low growl, rubbing up against Cressida’s legs as he slinked around her and over to the two bears. She stumbled a little, but smiled at the brief contact. He sniffed at the two bears and then just continued on, leading them in another direction, through the jungle toward the beach. Cort cast Kelly a lingering look of sad brown eyes and then turned to follow the tiger. Fat Tom limped on after him, and Cressida and Kelly were left alone there in the dark, the noise of the jungle obscuring everything around them.

She felt Kelly’s hand brush hers, and then he took her by the arm, leading her a little ways off the path that they’d created by tromping through the jungle.

“Can’t see a thing, can you?” he muttered to her, and she could hear a smirk in his voice.

“No, not with my boring human eyes,” she replied.

“Then stay close. You must be tired.”

She said nothing to that, but she was very tired. Their mad dash back down the mountain, through the jungle and to the tribe’s village to get to Reza had been fast and difficult. Getting him and getting out again, not knowing until she actually laid eyes on him that he would go with her, had been maddening. And all of it with the image of the snakelike Keeper of the Jewel hissing through her mind, with the hope and promise of what the jewel could offer her knotting about her heart.

“We’ll rest here until he comes back for us,” Kelly decided. He sank down to a seat, his back to a wide, fat tree trunk, and pulled her down with him. Once she was settled beside him, he got an arm around her shoulders and fit her against his side, and she perceived that it was possessive even if he didn’t intend it to be. A way of enveloping her after Reza had rubbed against her legs. She would have pushed him off but she was too tired and she knew that they were in for a fight as it was, once Reza returned. So in the dark, in Kelly’s arms, with his warmth seeping into her skin, she let herself relax a little and actually drift to sleep. But her dreams were unkind. Instead of tumbling her through the twists and turns of her current situation, they thrust her into the past, where she found her husband waiting.

She had left Henry Avery going on five years ago. He was a proper English gentleman with a respectable fortune, distantly related to some lord or another, so distantly that nobody could remember the noble name but everyone knew it was there somewhere and afforded him the appropriate respect. But she’d been married to him at seventeen, a deal made between Henry and her father, and though Henry was respectable and kind-natured and even handsome, she’d had no choice in the matter whatsoever. And Cressida firmly believed that without choice, there was no possibility at all of love.

She dreamed, of course, of the wedding night. Henry’s gentle, doting hands and the way he’d gingerly undone her dress. She’d been desperate for intimacy by then, though, and she found his hesitation disappointing. It was just a dress. One she would never wear again. And she was not fragile, had never been, and she wanted him to
want
her so badly he could not contain himself. That was the kind of desire and passion that Cressida had longed for her entire life. Henry simply was not made of such things.

Which was not to say that she had not enjoyed their sweet wedding night. Henry had been tentative and cautious in undressing her, his kisses soft and light, and once he’d had her laid naked on the bed before him, some of that caution fled.

Henry had been of middling height, with golden hair not unlike her own and fresh blue eyes. Ten years older than she was, he had some tiny lines about his eyes, and he wore a well-trimmed beard. Somewhat slight of build but not bad looking, he was neither fit nor overweight, a perfectly average specimen. She remembered watching him pull his shirt over his head, her eyes traveling the length of his torso just as his eyes scoured her nude body. He’d shucked off his trousers and she’d watched his cock rise to attention, a strange piece of anatomy that she had never seen before, but found herself fascinated by. She’d wanted to touch it, to understand it, but Henry had crawled onto the bed and eased her thighs apart, and she hadn’t known she could take any kind of control of what was happening.

He settled himself above her and did not touch her at all elsewise, or kiss her. He looked down at her for a moment, as though contemplating the rounded mounds of her breasts or the pale slope of her stomach. Her breath had thickened with anticipation and she wanted to hold on to something, but not him. She curled her fingers into the bedclothes as he reached between them, fitting the head of his cock to her entrance, and she felt a sharp pain as he pushed himself inside her that first time—but with it, a lick of delicious ecstasy. Henry grunted, thrusting himself further inside her, and then withdrawing, and then thrusting in again. His movements were not smooth or fluid, but with each slick reentry Cressida felt something curl through her stomach and begin to mount within her. By the time Henry was fucking her in earnest, she let go of the bedclothes with one hand and squeezed her own breast, head tilting back in a desperate moan.

The moan had been Henry’s undoing. He came a few seconds later, quite before she’d found her own pleasure. And then he’d collapsed atop her and fallen asleep. Cressida lay beneath him, her heart pounding in her ears, her sex throbbing for more attention, and realized in that moment that she could not stay with Henry. That she would never be satisfied by this man, or this life.

She’d waited until he was completely asleep, then rolled him off of her and got out of bed. She pulled on her dressing gown and went into the washroom, where one of the maids had left her a basin of warm water and some clean linens to bathe herself with after her first love-making, because a woman should never go to sleep without cleaning herself. But instead of cleaning herself, she’d lain down upon the washroom floor and slid a hand beneath her dressing gown, between her thighs, seeking the pleasure her husband had been unable to give her. She slipped first one curious finger into her own sex, then two, and then she discovered that delectable knot just above her own entrance. She’d had to stuff the linens into her mouth to quiet her moans and gasps. She spent the night writhing on the washroom floor, pleasuring herself again and again, wondering how many married women did the same.

It had taken a year of planning, and Cressida liked to think that she’d given Henry a year to convince her to stay. In the end, though, he simply was not enough for her and never could have been. She’d left him with no regrets at all, because she’d never grown to love him. Not the way she thought that she deserved to love, and be loved. He was a good man, but he was not a passionate man, not a dangerous man, not a man who knew what it was to really claim a woman’s heart. In Cressida’s dream, he fucked her with his eyes closed and she felt nothing at all as he came. She awoke with a start, still slumped against Kelly, the night still thick around them.