A Dance with the Devil

In one night, I lost everything.

My ship, my crew, my freedom, and nearly my life—but none of it hurt as much as losing my lover Scarlett. Her scorned fiancé now holds her captive, and unless I do something, she’ll be forced to marry the devil within a week. Remaining undetected with a curse eating me alive proves damn near impossible, but at least our plan was simple: get in, get Scarlett, and get out. There’s only one obstacle.

Her.

Scarlett planned this, from her capture to my escape. She’s exactly where she wants to be, and it’s for more than just revenge—if she plays her cards right, she’ll obtain what we’ve been after for years, breaking our curse and freeing our souls.

It all hinges on a Nochebuena ball, and a single dance.

If only that dance wasn’t with the Devil.

Cedric

I’d fucked up. Severely.

I knew it each time a rat skittered across my feet, felt it each time an icy drop of liquid struck my forehead. I swore my captors had positioned me here on purpose, where the ceiling leaked a constant stream of water. At least . . . I hoped it was water.

Gritting my teeth and swallowing the string of obscenities I wanted badly to utter, I tested the manacles that kept me fastened to the stone wall. The unforgiving iron bit into my sensitive flesh, holding firm as ever. I ignored the sting. Compared to the rot constantly eating away at my innards—my curse—it was nothing, and for once, I was grateful for the dull pain. It gave me something to focus on other than my racing thoughts. If I were an intelligent man, I’d be fixated on saving my own skin, or at the very least, fighting off the curse that would kill me if I wasn’t careful, but I’d proven time and time again that I wasn’t. I wouldn’t be here if I was, literally rotting away in this lonely cell while Scarlett endured far worse at the hands of Admiral Diego Ruiz.

Scarlett. A lump formed in my throat, one I couldn’t swallow, as her terrified gaze flashed across my mind. That look she’d given me before being dragged away was one that would haunt me for the rest of my days, however numbered they may have been. How had it come to this? Only two nights ago, we’d been huddled in my quarters, our bodies pressed so close together it had been impossible to imagine anyone ever tearing us apart.

Then he arrived—the Devil himself.

Unrestrained rage clouded my thoughts, and red streaked across my vision. I wasn’t scared of Ruiz’s theatrical nickname. What I wouldn’t give to rip that bastard limb from limb, slice his cock off before shoving it raw and bloody down—

“Shame. I heard it’s quite big.”

I sucked in a breath but needn’t have bothered; the voice was all too familiar. “Elvira?”

“Feliz Navidad, hermano.”

“It’s not Navidad yet,” I snapped back, still unsure as to where the voice was coming from.

“Soon enough.” A blade glittered in the darkness, quickly followed by my sister’s smirking face. I almost shuddered; how long had she been lurking in the shadows, letting me sit in my own piss? “You know, as entertaining as they are, you really should be more careful about your vengeful mutterings. What if a real guard had overheard you?” Elvira stood dressed in one of their uniforms—well, half-dressed. It had either been sloppily donned, or she’d gotten here by seducing everyone she passed. I’d normally be willing to bet the latter, but even in the dimly lit cell, I could tell she was covered in enough blood to shock anyone but a fellow pirate.

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk. Seems as though you had your own fun.”

Elvira snorted. “I don’t need to be cursed to enjoy slitting throats. Especially Navy ones—they’re always so pretty. Practically begging for it.” Whipping out a set of keys, she began fiddling with the lock to my cell; the medallion shard draped around her neck bounced as she worked. “Don’t worry. I saved a few for you.”

I shot her a glare. My curse was certainly a problem, but it remained the least of my worries. “You took your damn time, and we can’t afford it. Scarlett is still—”

“Scarlett? Look at yourself. Have they even fed you, Ced?”

They hadn’t, and the rot was ravaging me at a much faster rate than normal as a result, but I couldn’t tell Elvira that. “Yes.”

“That’s a lie. You always get that crease in your forehead when you tell one.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” A click, and my cell door swung open. Elvira knelt by my side, wrinkling her nose disapprovingly. “You smell like shit.”

“You smell like death,” I snapped but silenced abruptly when my sister’s hand wormed its way beneath what little fabric remained of my shirt. Her palm was icy against my fever-hot chest, but more than that, it fueled my discomfort. Only Scarlett ever touched me skin to skin, and for good reason; it was how the curse spread. “What are you doing?”

Elvira ignored me, quickly moving farther down my body until she reached my pockets. Finding nothing, she shot me a fierce glare. “Do not tell me you were wearing Lucas’s shard.”