Voodoo Love (And the Curse of Jean Lafitte’s Treasure) (12 page)

             
"I see you've gotten better at saying what you want," Juan said, removing his shirt. "Two years ago, you were hardly able to look at me without turning red. What else has changed about you?"

             
I gave him my own wicked smile. "I've found that I like to be in control of things."

             
The candlelight added a sensual glow to his body, and I have to say that for a dead guy, he still had one killer set of abs. Unable to stop myself, I swung my legs on either side of him. Sitting up, I ran my hands up his chest, pinching at his nipples until they hardened. I licked one and heard his sharp intake of breath. Then my hands slipped lower and undid the button on his pants, yanking them down until he stood naked before me.

             
I reached out to touch him again, my hand gently gripping his erection. I stroked him, watching his face as he closed his eyes, thoroughly enjoying my touch. His breath grew ragged and I couldn't help but give a soft laugh at the sheer delight of having such power over him.

             
Juan opened his eyes and with a little growl, gave me a gentle shove and made me lay back down.  Then he lowered the filmy white curtains on each side of the bed. I could see the glow of the candles all around us, pushing through the fabric, and then there was nothing but Juan.

             
Though I'd been looking at him for the last few hours, I'd really only seen the memory of him. Seeing him this intimately again had me thinking how handsome he was, how amazing his body could feel pressed to mine. The sharpness of his chin, the slant of his eyes as he looked at me, the primal, raw smell of him--it shattered my defenses and made me completely open to him in everywhere that a woman can be.

             
"I've missed you," he whispered.

             
"I bet you say that to all the girls," I teased. "You probably have a whole bevy of undead girlfriends."

             
"Doesn't work that way," he said, running a hand over my breast, caressing it tenderly. "There is only you. You changed me."

             
He kissed me again, and there was no more room for talking as we teased at each other's most sensitive spots. I moaned as his fingers stroked between my legs, stirring my passions until I almost couldn't stand it.

             
As he entered me, my body arched up, and I saw once again, the veve on the ceiling--La Sirene. I felt like her at that moment--powerful, seductive, a creature of sexual prowess. I wrapped my legs around Juan, desperate to make him mine. Judging from the guttural sounds he made, he didn't seem to mind.

             
His gaze went dark as he looked down at me. I was drowning in sensation and his deep, slow thrusts pushed me closer and closer to the edge as the intensity of our passion began to overtake me. I was so open to him, so open to anything he wanted and he knew it. At times his movements were fast and hard, and yet just when I'd almost peaked, he would slow down, teasing me into a submission that made me moan for more.

             
This is what I dreamt about, what I'd longed for. And I never wanted it to end.

             
"
Elizabeth
," he whispered. "You are so beautiful."

             
I don't know what came over me, but it was that moment that I decided it was my turn to take control. I was La Sirene. I was in charge. I maneuvered myself so that I was on top of Juan, riding him, controlling the rhythm of our love play. His eyes widened at this turn of events, but he offered no objection. Instead, he grinned and ran his hand across my breast, lingering on my nipples. The pleasure of that only increased the arousal I already felt, and he smiled at feeling my body's wet response. I leaned over him, allowing his tongue to do an erotic dance across my breasts. He set my senses on fire, creating a delicious ache deep within me.

             
It was too much. Juan pulled me close and then rolled us back over, ending my dominance over him. I didn't mind though. His breathing grew rough, the gentle rhythm of his thrusts faster, and with it, I could feel the delightful edge of orgasm approaching. It built and built as he plunged deep inside me, wiping away rational thought.

             
When I climaxed, my eyes shut, and I let myself become lost in the waves of pleasure, only vaguely aware of soft feminine laughter.

             
I hope Euralie wasn't watching us
, I thought.

             
"Are you okay,
Elizabeth
?" Juan's voice penetrated through the veil of bliss.

             
"Umm…better than alright," I murmured.

             
"Next time we'll take it slower."

             
He rolled me over and spooned his body to mine. The sound of his breath in my ear soothed me, and I could feel myself drifting away.

             
"Juan," I started to say.

             
"Shhh…" he whispered.” Just rest now. We can talk more later."

             
I wouldn't mind less talking and more of what we'd just done! Only I was too tired now to say that. Before I could get my thoughts out, I fell into the abyss of sleep.

             
And into a dream.

             
Euralie stood at the foot of the bed, her brown skin complimented by a white night gown that clung to her rounded curves. The points of her nipples pressed against the fabric and as she moved around the side of the bed, her dark braided hair swished in time to the rhythm of her hips. Somewhere far off, the drums were being played and they sounded like the rise and fall of a heartbeat. Slowly, slowly she lifted her arms as if dancing and her full lips curved into a smile.

             
She was the embodiment of La Sirene.

             
There was a man on the bed, silhouetted by the curtains that blew in a breeze from the open window. She approached him, her body dancing and gyrating with a message as ancient as the human race itself. One of her hands lifted to pull back the white curtain before she climbed into the bed. Snakelike, she crept up the body of the man whose face was hidden in the shadows. Her hands ran up his naked legs and up his chest before she straddled him.

             
"My love," she whispered and then leaned in for a kiss.

             
Eddie kissed her back.

             
I jolted awake. I was alone in the bed and didn't know how much time had passed. It was still dark outside, but the candles had burned down low. For a moment, I panicked, afraid that something had happened to Juan while I was sleeping. But then the dream came back and so did Juan's words.

             
His heart belongs to another
.

             
What the hell? Why was I dreaming about Euralie and Eddie? Could they have…

             
I grabbed the robe from the floor and wrapped it around myself. I headed out of the room, in search of answers. Anger built inside me as I stomped through the empty house and out the front door.

             
Euralie stood with her back to me, the fire still blazing in the chiminea. She stiffened a moment and then slowly turned to face me, the empty vodka bottle gripped in one of her hands. We stared at each other--she waiting for me to speak and me…well, just trying to find a coherent sentence that didn't begin with the word bitch.

             
I admit that I am not always as articulate under pressure as I'd like to be.

             
"You got something to say, Elizabeth Brown?" Her Cajun lilt irritated me. "Time to speak up is now."

             
"You realize that Brown is my married name, right," I said. "My husband is Eddie Brown."

             
"I know it well enough." She tilted her head and I thought there was coldness in her eyes. "What are you wanting to say to me,
Mrs
. Brown?"

             
The way she emphasized the word Mrs. told me everything I needed to know, but still I pushed on.

             
"How long have you been sleeping with my husband?"

             
She threw her head back and laughed, the sound drifting into the air. "I've been sleeping with him for damn near three years. He was my man before he was ever your husband."

             
Three years? That was before Eddie and I had even met. Before any of the stuff with Juan Carlos had happened.

             
"How long have you been sleeping with the ghost you call Juan?" Euralie stepped towards me. "Or was tonight the first time?"

             
"Shut up. That's none of your business."

             
"But my sleeping with Eddie is yours?"

             
"He's my husband."

             
"In name only. Did you really think he was spending long weekends out fishing with his buddies all those times? No. He was in my arms!" Euralie's eyes filled with tears and she threw the bottle on the ground. "And now that's come to an end. That son of a bitch, Diego, finally got to him. All because of you!"

             
Before I could respond, there was a low sound, like a horn being blown. It echoed around the swamp and the water erupted in large bubbles. The cypress trees swayed as a cold wind rustled through the branches, and the scent of mold and decay grew strong.

             
"Now you done this, too," Euralie said, but her voice was quieter, resigned. "You done brought back the dead pirate and his crew."

             
"Wh-what do you mean?" I stammered, unable to look away from the sight before me. The swamp was alive, but not with gators or snakes.

             
Something else was rising to the surface.

             
All at once, several men rose from beneath the surface of the water. Or at least they had once been men. Now they were…something else. Their clothes were worn and tattered, and unaffected by the dank swamp. Some of their outfits were from another time period, while others looked more modern. But it was their faces that stood out, struck fear in my heart, and even made Euralie suck in her breath.

             
They were in various stages of decomposition.

             
"What is this?" I asked backing away.

             
But it wasn't Euralie's voice that answered. Instead, I heard a deep masculine voice with just a hint of a French accent.

             
"That, mademoiselle, is my crew."