Those vanishing islands were directly responsible for many of the legends that made up the Caribbean. The monsters and mysterious disappearances. It would be hypocritical of her to not believe in them, given that her own race could turn into and live as trees.
Still …
She knew how humans could also twist, turn, and expound on reality. So what was told and what actually existed could be radically different. A little truth went a long way in an overactive imagination and the overblown legends people told for attention.
Suddenly, she felt the air behind her stirring. A smile spread across her lips at the rich masculine scent that warmed her an instant before Du wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek to hers.
“Sorry it took so long to get away. Janice took more convincing than I thought to get her to leave for Santiago’s crew. But she’ll be safer there for the time being.”
Closing her eyes, she savored the sensation of being engulfed by him. And a part of her wanted to kick herself at the centuries she’d deprived them of that could have been spent like this. And for what?
Vanity? Stupidity? Stubbornness?
Things that no longer seemed to matter.
“Is anything amiss?”
He glanced to Strixa. “Nay. Not where I’m concerned. What treachery has the she-bitch wrought?”
“Pardon?”
He stepped back. “If she’s anything like Vine, I shudder at what lies, doubts, or half-truths she’s filled your head with in my absence.”
Strixa squawked indignantly at his words.
Mara laughed. “Fear not. I didn’t listen.”
“Good. Because the only one to hear is me.”
But as he leaned against his desk to study the map, her gaze went to his battle-scarred hand that toyed with the hilt of the dagger that held the parchment in place. In spite of her bold words otherwise, doubt played in her head.
Worse? It played in her heart.
Strixa was right. Du was a creature of extreme and utter violence. Love didn’t come easily or naturally to him. It was an alien concept. As foreign to him as generational war was to her. While she knew it existed, she wanted no part of it and didn’t really understand those who partook of it or why they did so.
And in that moment, she didn’t see the loyal pirate captain in front of her. She saw the ancient warlord, covered in blood and dressed in his black armor. Saw his black braids and beard. The arrogance of his swagger as he returned from war and strode through their hall to claim Vine while his bloodlust still colored his cheeks.
Reveling in his war and conquest, he’d been terrifying. His ferocity such that even the trained war hounds had fled, yelping, at his approach.
Indeed, the air around him now, as then, sizzled with his unholy power and raw determination. It reached out like a living, breathing entity to cause the hair on the back of her arms to rise. The mere fact that he could effortlessly hold a witch as powerful as Strixa …
I’m a corymeister. Du’s words went through her head. He was the strongest sorcerer of his kind. No one could touch him when it came to the ability to bend the natural laws.
Mara went ramrod stiff as that brought a new, horrifying thought in its wake. What if her feelings were nothing more than another spell he’d cast? How would she ever know the difference?
Was any of this real?
He glanced up and caught her gaze. “Mara?”
She offered a smile and prayed he couldn’t sense it was false. “Aye, sorry. Was lost in my thoughts. Did you ask something?”
Suspicion clouded his gaze, as if he knew she was lying, but wasn’t quite sure about what.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine. Worried about that coming conflict.”
That seemed to placate him. He glanced toward Strixa. “No fears, my lady. So long as you put your faith where it belongs, all shall be well.”
