Read Online Blue Voodoo: A Romantic Retelling of Bluebeard (The Hidden Kingdom Series Book 2) by Jennifer Blackstream - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Blackstream
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yourself, you’ll agree it would be a beneficial arrangement for both of us.”
What little part of Dominique’s inner youth still existed shed a tear at his choice of words. Arrangement. Beneficial. How…logical.
“You’ve done very well for yourself here, Dominique. I’ve been in town for less than a day, and already I’ve heard about the great voodoo queen who commands the respect of every man, woman, and child in a fifty mile radius—and farther. If my men’s reports of the tavern owners are to be trusted, I believe you have also carried on your parents’ liquor trade?”
“As much as I appreciate your unending praise, I fail to see what my success has to do with your marriage proposal?” Dominique craned a look over her shoulder, slanting a meaningful glance at his still hands.
Julien followed her gaze and resumed applying the ointment. “I am the best rumrunner in the five kingdoms. I could double your business—quadruple it even.”
“The best rumrunner in the five kingdoms,” Dominique mused. “Yes, I remember that boast.”
“It wasn’t a boast, chere , and you know it.” Julien’s voice remained light, edged with amusement and more than his fair share of confidence. “There is no ship faster than mine, there is no captain who knows the sea better—the nooks and crannies of the inlets, the caves waiting to hide a ship. No one knows more islands with nothing but animals to witness who comes and goes.”
He increased the pressure of his fingertips, massaging the ointment around the wounds as well. It hurt and felt good at the same time, a foil of their history.
“ Chere , I could bring you wines so fine they would make you weep at the first caress on your tongue. Liquors so strong the very scent of them would send your people into a dreamland to shake hands with the loa themselves.”
“You always were so disparaging of my faith.” Dominique flexed her fingernails into her palms. “I’ll ask you again, and this will be the last time. Give the loa the respect they are due.”
“Respect.” Julien snorted. “You can live your life as you like, chere , but I want no part of your god or his messengers. Never trust a creature with no body of their own.” His hands trembled as if he’d shuddered. “Parasites possessing people, prancing about in their skin. I will never understand why you tolerate it—welcome it, even.”
“No respect,” Dominique repeated.
Julien leaned in so he could see her face, taunting her with the strong line of his jaw, handsome despite the blue beard. “You remind me of your mother, you know. She was all about respect as I recall.”
Mother . Yes, her mother had been all about respect—a fact that had set Dominique’s teeth on end, considering her mother’s refusal to adhere to the code of the priestess, her insistence on doing what she pleased despite what it did to her reputation. The reputation that had gotten her killed. She set her jaw, ferociously blinking back the telltale burn of tears. He will not see me cry.
The pressure on her wounds vanished.
“Dominique?” A touch of uncertainty stole the bravado from his face. “Your mother…?”
“Dead.” She picked at the sheets with one carefully filed fingernail. “And my father. They left for Ville au Camp to help with the chaos caused by an earthquake. Their ship…” She stopped, swallowed as silently as she could. “They never arrived.”
Julien leaned down, but she hid her face behind the fall of her spiraling curls. She peered through the ringlets to the painting of the ship at sea. It seemed like such a mockery now, the opposite of the fate that had claimed her parents out on the water. Dying in the dark, far from their home. Bodies lost to the sea, without a proper burial.
“ Chere .”
Julien brushed her hair back from her face. There’d been a time she would have welcomed his sympathy, would have cried on his shoulder and been grateful for the comfort.
But that time had
What little part of Dominique’s inner youth still existed shed a tear at his choice of words. Arrangement. Beneficial. How…logical.
“You’ve done very well for yourself here, Dominique. I’ve been in town for less than a day, and already I’ve heard about the great voodoo queen who commands the respect of every man, woman, and child in a fifty mile radius—and farther. If my men’s reports of the tavern owners are to be trusted, I believe you have also carried on your parents’ liquor trade?”
“As much as I appreciate your unending praise, I fail to see what my success has to do with your marriage proposal?” Dominique craned a look over her shoulder, slanting a meaningful glance at his still hands.
Julien followed her gaze and resumed applying the ointment. “I am the best rumrunner in the five kingdoms. I could double your business—quadruple it even.”
“The best rumrunner in the five kingdoms,” Dominique mused. “Yes, I remember that boast.”
“It wasn’t a boast, chere , and you know it.” Julien’s voice remained light, edged with amusement and more than his fair share of confidence. “There is no ship faster than mine, there is no captain who knows the sea better—the nooks and crannies of the inlets, the caves waiting to hide a ship. No one knows more islands with nothing but animals to witness who comes and goes.”
He increased the pressure of his fingertips, massaging the ointment around the wounds as well. It hurt and felt good at the same time, a foil of their history.
“ Chere , I could bring you wines so fine they would make you weep at the first caress on your tongue. Liquors so strong the very scent of them would send your people into a dreamland to shake hands with the loa themselves.”
“You always were so disparaging of my faith.” Dominique flexed her fingernails into her palms. “I’ll ask you again, and this will be the last time. Give the loa the respect they are due.”
“Respect.” Julien snorted. “You can live your life as you like, chere , but I want no part of your god or his messengers. Never trust a creature with no body of their own.” His hands trembled as if he’d shuddered. “Parasites possessing people, prancing about in their skin. I will never understand why you tolerate it—welcome it, even.”
“No respect,” Dominique repeated.
Julien leaned in so he could see her face, taunting her with the strong line of his jaw, handsome despite the blue beard. “You remind me of your mother, you know. She was all about respect as I recall.”
Mother . Yes, her mother had been all about respect—a fact that had set Dominique’s teeth on end, considering her mother’s refusal to adhere to the code of the priestess, her insistence on doing what she pleased despite what it did to her reputation. The reputation that had gotten her killed. She set her jaw, ferociously blinking back the telltale burn of tears. He will not see me cry.
The pressure on her wounds vanished.
“Dominique?” A touch of uncertainty stole the bravado from his face. “Your mother…?”
“Dead.” She picked at the sheets with one carefully filed fingernail. “And my father. They left for Ville au Camp to help with the chaos caused by an earthquake. Their ship…” She stopped, swallowed as silently as she could. “They never arrived.”
Julien leaned down, but she hid her face behind the fall of her spiraling curls. She peered through the ringlets to the painting of the ship at sea. It seemed like such a mockery now, the opposite of the fate that had claimed her parents out on the water. Dying in the dark, far from their home. Bodies lost to the sea, without a proper burial.
“ Chere .”
Julien brushed her hair back from her face. There’d been a time she would have welcomed his sympathy, would have cried on his shoulder and been grateful for the comfort.
But that time had
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