Mistress of the Stone (31 page)

“She doesn’t like me.”

Daltry chuckled. “She doesn’t like me either. Cwen has high aspirations and I’ve disappointed her.”

Cwen returned, sloshing water over the rim of the bucket. She sat down next to Luísa. “Strip,” she said. “So I can tend your wounds.”

Luísa looked up at Daltry, but he only shrugged.

“I’ll leave you two ladies to your ablutions. I need to check on the others.” He left with a curt nod and a wink to Luísa.

Cwen scooted behind Luísa and untied her laces.

“I can do that.”

“Quiet, girl.”

“My name is Luísa.”

“I know who you are. Do you think I care?”

Luísa slipped off her gown, now torn and dirty from battle. Cwen tossed it to one side then grabbed Luísa by her scraped arm and scrubbed it with a wet cloth.

“That hurts!” Luísa cried and pulled her arm away.

“What does Xander see in you? You’re weak and whiny.”

Luísa shoved Cwen to the ground, pinning her arms and digging a knee into her midsection. “Who are you calling weak?”

Cwen rolled and kicked Luísa in the stomach, jolting her on her ass.

Luísa howled in rage and punted the pail of water with the flat of her foot, drenching Cwen from head to toe. They crashed into one another like bosomed Titans.

In the struggle, a fireplace poker rolled out to the middle of the floor and both women lunged for it at the same time. Their hands wrapped around the long, narrow iron pike and each woman grappled for control of the weapon.

They rolled around the floor, knocking over a heavy table and shattering crockery. Cwen won control of the poker first, but lost it when Luísa kicked it out of her hand. The red-haired demon screamed a curse before throwing herself on Luísa once more.

“You’re not woman enough for any of our men.”

“At least they all want me. You’d have to be in heat for them to pay you any mind.”

“Whore!”

“Bitch!”

Cwen lost control and screamed a blood-curdling yowl as the wolf inside her emerged.

Luísa’s eyes widened, and she tried to pull away. The transformation never ceased to astound—and frighten her.

The woman shook with convulsions, terrible body-wracking spasms that forced her human self to evolve into something monstrous and deadly. Cwen’s jaw narrowed and jutted forward to form a muzzle. The thin tunic she wore burst at the seams then split, leaving her in fur alone. Her eyes, brilliant green, shined with predatory delight, and her primal scream morphed into a spit-slavering growl.

Cwen bared her teeth, long white sabers, glistening in the low light of the hut. Her dress hung like a rag on her body, and she tore it off, preferring to fight in fur alone. She edged closer, silent now that the transformation was complete.

Luísa eyed the poker in the middle of the floor. If she could close the distance before her opponent did, she might be able to defend herself.

The she-wolf must have figured out her intentions because she circled her. Cwen bent her knees ready to spring, when another wolf bounded into the room and attacked her. Both werewolves rolled around on the floor, the bigger wolf biting her on the neck until she cowed into submission.

The male werewolf hung over her, his mouth covered in blood.

Cwen crouched on her hands and knees in surrender. A soft doglike whimper issued from her throat, and she pressed her cheek against his thigh. Completing her submission, she licked the drops of blood off his fur and laved a trail to his groin. A low guttural moan of pleasure issued from the male. His claws dug into the she-wolf’s shoulders, nudging her toward his lengthening member when he looked up at Luísa in recognition.

The werewolf let out a grunt, then snapped at the she-wolf, leaving both he and Cwen unsated.

Luísa could see he wanted to leave, hungry for his freedom, but the hut jammed with spectators.

Cwen returned to her human form, shivering naked until a woman from her clan wrapped her in a blanket.

Luísa felt a prickle of anger surge through her as she watched the male werewolf gradually transform into the human form she recognized.

Xander.
He had bolted into the fray to protect her, yet his animal side submitted to Cwen’s petting.

Xander’s silhouette stood in profile, but she could trace every bulge of his hard body. Jovis entered and handed him a pair of breeches. Xander put them on without a word.

Cwen was now dressed and stood tall. “Him,” she said pointing to Xander. “I claim Xander as my mate.”

“No,” Jovis replied steadily. “You’re an alpha. When the time is right you’ll vie with the other alphas to become my mate.”

Cwen shook her head. “I demand the right as an unclaimed alpha to choose my own mate. I want him.”

“I don’t think so,” Luísa said as she stepped between Cwen and Xander.

“Luísa, stay out of this,” Xander warned sharply.

“Are you telling me you want her, Xander?”

“Luísa, please. You don’t understand.”

Cwen grabbed Luísa by the arm and grinned. “Not your call, Xander. This is between the scion and me.” She spoke to Xander, but her eyes never strayed from Luísa. “What say you, woman? Do you challenge me for his seed?”

“No!” Daltry pushed forward, but two other werewolves held him back.

Malachai, his longtime friend, grabbed him by the arm. “Be quiet, Daltry. A challenge has been made.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.”

Malachai leveled his eyes at him in warning. “Pack law, Xander. You know what that means.” He pulled him behind the swarm of onlookers, rabble vying for a better view.

Jovis cornered Cwen. “Are you sure, Cwen? Is there a challenge here?”

Cwen placed her hands on her hips and laughed. “If this whore wants him, she’ll have to fight me for him.” Her gaze raked across Luísa. “But you can see she’s a coward. She relies on others to protect her.”

Luísa still had the poker in her hands. She lifted it up as if to strike, then flung it to the floor. “I accept your challenge, she-wolf, not for the man, but to see you grovel at my feet.”

Cwen threw her head back in laughter. “When I win, you’ll beg for my mercy.”

Jovis grabbed her by the wrist and lifted her arm straight up. “A challenge has been made and answered. Since the battle is with a skin, Cwen must fight Luísa in skin alone.”

Cwen’s laughter gurgled into a strangled bark when she heard Jovis’s decree. “That’s unfair! I can’t control my wolf side from coming out.”

“Then you’ll be given wolfsbane so that you remain in one form.”

“Wolfsbane weakens my bloodlust.”

“Then perhaps you’re not worthy of the challenge.” Jovis waved her away. “Prepare yourselves. You fight tomorrow, when the sun is directly above in the sky.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Each woman was allowed a second, someone to help dress and advise her. Cwen chose a friend called Etta.

Luísa studied the remains of her crew. She wished Paqua was still with them. She could’ve used some of his shaman magic, but she settled on his likeliest successor. Black Barbosa, the
Coral’s
quartermaster.

Tomas Barbosa reigned as the best fighting man on the ship, with so many kills he no longer kept count. He was fast and powerful—more importantly, he knew how to fight dirty. The crew called him “The Moor” behind his back, but only Luísa called him by his given name, Tomas.

Luísa rapped her knuckles against his chest.
“Stop grousing, Tomas. I need your skill and your advice.”

“You want my advice? Then I say we run, as fast and as hard as we can back to the
Coral
. That she-wolf will tear you into ribbons.”

“We can’t leave. Papa is still being held at Sanctuary. Besides, Jovis is letting us use cutlasses. I’ll pit my skill against any man—or wolf—in a sword duel.”

“Aye, I’ll give you that, Mistress. But these werewolves have keener reflexes. She can swipe at you before you have a chance to react.”

Tomas wrapped her right arm in a long strip of leather. Hidden under each fold was a gold doubloon lining the length of her forearm.

“What’s that for? Am I to pay the ferryman when I meet him at the River Styx?”

“Protection, Luísa. ’Tis not much but it might keep blade from meeting bone. Remember to keep your guard up, and look for her to switch hands. I’ve noticed she uses either hand equally well.”

Luísa slapped the thick leather padding on her right forearm and grinned. “Then it’s well and good that I was raised by pirates.”

“It’d be better if you threw the fight and let her win. Jovis says there’s no killing in this fight. Let her strike you once and fall. Then we can be done with this folly.”

“I’ll not give in to the likes of that she-wolf.”

“Paid you no attention to what happened in that hut? Daltry wanted her. And he would’ve taken her if there hadn’t been so many witnesses. Give it up, Captain. You don’t belong with his kind.”

He couldn’t have wounded her pride more if he had slapped her. Tomas was right. Xander hesitated when Cwen approached him. He would’ve mated with her if Luísa hadn’t been there. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Pride was the only thing keeping her in this fight. Her dignity was at stake. She’d best that she-wolf and deal with Xander later.

“If you won’t support me, I’ll get someone else, Tomas. My second ought to at least be loyal enough to stand by me.”

Tomas looked at her as if she had run a knife through his gullet. “I swore a blood oath to your father that I’d protect you with my life. Say what you will of me, Mistress, but don’t ever question my loyalty.”

He turned his face away, but not before Luísa caught the darkness in his eyes. She put a hand on his thick, scarred arm. “Tomas. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re braver than any man I know. I just want you believe me brave too.”

Tomas’s mouth stretched to one side. “Captain, you got ice in your veins and the bollocks of a crocodile.” He nodded toward her combatant. “That Cwen might be a werewolf, but there’s a hurricane in you. But be thee careful. That she-wolf has it out for you, and I believe she’ll try to kill you if she can.”

“Jovis won’t allow it. He needs me.”

“Aye, they do. But she doesn’t. A woman scorned knows only vengeance. You watch her for any tricks.”

Both women were led out into a blazing afternoon sun. Cwen’s eyes looked glassy, perhaps a side effect of the wolfsbane, but she bounced on the balls of her feet, ready to spring.

They dressed alike, in an island toga that wrapped around each woman’s waist and a swath of cloth that bound their breasts and pressed them close to the body. Barefoot, they approached one another with caution.

Jovis stood in the center of where their fight would be held.

Luísa couldn’t see Daltry and wondered where he was. Didn’t he want to see who would win him? Her gaze wandered while Jovis laid down the rules.

“This fight is for the right to take Xander as mate, which means there will be no killing. Is that understood?”

Luísa nodded.

“Cwen?”

The she-wolf stared at Luísa hungrily, but didn’t answer.

“Cwen!”

“Aye, Jovis. I won’t kill the whore. But when she loses, she’ll be licking the juices between my legs. I swear it.” She raised her left hand in an oath to the hoots of all the women.

Luísa couldn’t help but show her disgust. Pride threw her into this challenge, but it was spite that drove her.

They faced one another, each with one short sword and a shield no larger than a dinner platter wrapped around the opposite forearm.

Even though she wasn’t in wolf form, Cwen prowled like an animal. Her strides were long and fluid, the predator in motion. She focused on her prey, seemingly oblivious to everything else around her.

Luísa took the opposite approach. A pirate survived by being aware of his surroundings. The trill of a jungle bird and the rustle of monkeys clamoring for a better view were far behind her. Closer still loomed the combined anticipation of her crew and the werewolf village.

Whimpering children fell silent, clutching their mothers’ sides. Cwen’s women, those who supported her, clustered in a tight circle from where the she-wolf entered the ring. The male werewolves gathered silently, their eyes glassy with interest and perhaps arousal.

Only Xander was missing. Luísa had taken a quick glance around her before Jovis stepped out to announce the bout, but Xander, the object of this confrontation, was nowhere to be found.

Behind her stood her crew. She smelled them more than heard them, ripe with sweat and dried blood from yesterday’s battle. A muttering sound, dull and incoherent, drifted from their direction. They weren’t happy she had taken this challenge.

Was it fair to fight this bitch so soon after their encounter with Izabel? Perhaps that was exactly Jovis’s intent.

The ground felt soft and springy from an earlier shower and Luísa’s bare feet bounced easily on the muddy terrain. Clear boundary posts marked the four corners, the top of each lintel carved in the shape of a wolf’s head. She wagered this pit was used regularly for battle.