Masters of Desire. Layla Chase
in her entire life. She tied a piece of cloth over her nose, wondering how in the world she’d manage to swallow the concoction once it was complete.
When sun spilled into the sea on the horizon, Busara stood beside the fire and held her hand over the kettle. “De last ingredient is a scale from Poseidon’s tail. De only one I’ve ever found.” She dropped the scale into the pot and stirred it one last time. “’Tis done.”
Melodie untied the cloth from beneath her nose and used it to wipe away the beads of perspiration on her forehead. A sense of reckoning settled over her, or was it dread? Either way, she gazed down at the soupy brown fluid in the cauldron. “I guess this is it.” She glanced up at Busara. “What do I do now?”
“You must drink a cup of de magic before de sun sinks all de way into de ocean. So if you want to change forever, drink up.”
Melodie glanced toward the orb of orange mixing bright colors into the placid sea. With only a few minutes before the sun disappeared, she scooped a ladle full of the foul brew and lifted it to her lips, staring at the liquid. “Are you sure it will work?”
The old woman glared at her. “You doubt the Obeah?”
“No. Of course not.” But she hesitated, her mouth dry at the thought of swallowing the nasty mixture. This was what she wanted, what she’d asked of Busara for the past few weeks. If she drank this potion she’d never know the torment of being a freak. She’d blend in with one race, not be caught between two worlds, alone and afraid.
On the other hand, she’d never be human again, never walk on the land, and never make love with a man. She’d be forever a child of the sea. Although she could visit Siren’s Cove, she could never come ashore. Her hand trembled and her heart raced, her breathing coming in tiny gasps. She could do this and live the rest of her life in the sea she loved so dearly. Do it!
“Mamma!” Kanoni’s frightened voice rose about the humming in Melodie’s ears. “Mamma, where are you?”
“By the cove,” she answered.
Kanoni staggered through the trees onto the sandy beach, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her dress damp and torn. A bright red slash marred her right cheek, blood still oozing from it.
Melodie dropped the untouched liquid, ladle and all, back into the kettle and raced to her friend. “Kanoni, what happened?” She gathered the girl in her arms and held her shaking body.
“De governor caught me spying by de docks and beat me wit’ his whip.” She buried her face against Melodie’s chest and cried.
When Busara moved up beside them, Kanoni fell into her mother’s arms. “Mamma, oh Mamma.” Sobs wracked her slender shoulders. “I only managed to escape by falling into de water and pretending to drown. I almost did, but for de kindness of our people.”
Busara gathered herbs and made a poultice, applying it to the angry cut on Kanoni’s face. “What was so important de governor would tink you be spying?”
Kanoni grabbed her mother’s wrist and choked back her next sob. “He prepares a ship. Tomorrow he will sail into Siren’s Cove and kill you. You must leave.”
The old woman patted her daughter’s back. “Don’t you worry about dis ol’ woman. I can take care of meself.”
“But he’s bringing a warship, Mamma.” Kanoni pressed her mother’s hand to her cheek. “Even you cannot fight cannons wit magik. You need help. You need someone like Lord Herrington to help protect de cove from Braithwaite’s warship.”
“Do not worry yourself. Do not worry.”
“I have to worry, Mamma. I love you. We must send word to Lord Herrington at once. De governor is preparing as we speak.”
“Does anyone know where to find Lord Herrington?” Melodie asked.
Busara stared into the distance, her gaze unfocused in that uncanny way she had of seeing what was not there. “He has gone ashore at Devil’s Island.”
“The pirate’s port?” Melodie had heard of it and avoided it like the plague. Only wanton women and wicked men dared wander into the port. Many men met their deaths by the fearless cutthroats roaming the tawdry streets.
“He went ashore to speak to Glory Hogan.”
“The one-eyed pirate who skinned his first mate alive for stealing a woman from him?” Melodie’s breath caught in her throat. Rafe was in over his head in the midst of murdering marauders, and Busara refused to evacuate the cove in the face of certain death to herself and the treasure hidden in the cove’s waters. Melodie had to get to Rafe and warn him of the danger to the cove and beg for his help. Dare she go ashore on such a disreputable island?
The old woman glanced at the sun fading into the water and turned to Melodie. “You only have a moment to take your potion. Hurry before the last of the sun disappears.”
Melodie took the ladle from Busara. If she drank the potion, she couldn’t go ashore and find Rafe. She handed the ladle back to the old woman. “I can’t.”
“This is your only chance to be a mermaid forever. I cannot recreate de mixture without another scale from Poseidon’s tail and this is only good for a couple hours.”
She’d wanted this for so long, but now, her own needs were secondary to protecting Siren’s Cove and Busara from Braithwaite’s destruction. “So be it.” She untied her wrap and walked into the cove.
“Melodie? Where are you going?” Kanoni called out to her.
“Hush, child. She knows where. ’Tis all dat matter.”
Rafe sat with his back to the wall in the Gold Doubloon Tavern on Devil’s Island, his hand resting on the heel of his cutlass. He’d come with Seumus to recruit cutthroats and mercenaries to fight against Braithwaite’s army of British sailors due to attack Siren’s Cove on the morrow. A part of him resisted the idea of opposing his own countrymen. From what the Carib peoples reported, Braithwaite had replaced those against his “methods” with less conscientious rogues, easing the burden of guilt from Rafe’s mind.
Thus far, they’d secured the services of twenty men of questionable background, with one thing in common. They’d all been thwarted by the new governor in one manner or another.
Seumus had stepped out to talk particulars with another potential crew member, leaving Rafe tapping the edge of his heavy pewter stein against the stained wooden table. He sat with muscles tensed, ready at a moment’s notice to quit the foul-smelling establishment.
A buxom tavern wench sashayed in front of him and deposited a pint of ale, displaying a pendulous pair of breasts large enough to smother a careless man. “Care fer more ale or anything else yer heart desires?” She sidled up to him and ran her fingers through his hair. “I could do a bit more than serve yer drinkin’ needs, if ye get me drift.” She reeked of stale alcohol and smoke and her hair lay in greasy curls around her head like a pile of soiled rags.
Much control went into suppressing his revulsion. “No, thank you. I’ve business to conduct.”
“I could be a little business fer ye.” She pulled the front of her chemise down exposing a rounded nipple large enough to suckle a bull calf.
“His business is with me, so leave.” The familiar, feminine voice spoke from behind the rounded bar maid.
When the tavern wench turned, she revealed the woman standing behind her. Flaxen hair and mocha skin stood out in the course establishment, garnering the attention of all the other men. Dressed in a similar style as the dirty tavern wench, she looked amazing and tempting all at once.
Rafe couldn’t decide whether he should throttle her or hug her. His cock pushed for the hug—anything to get close to the temptress of his thoughts.
The tavern wench planted her fists on her hips. “Ye think ye can make me leave?”
Men