The Marauder’s Mistress: (Wanton Wastrels - 2) by Tabetha Waite

Author:Tabetha Waite
Language: eng
Format: epub

Devin was ensnared in the throes of a nightmare.

He wasn’t sure why his mind had decided to distress him tonight, whether it was the sour way he’d parted with Constance, or the haunting remnants of a life he feared would claim him once more.

Whatever the reason, it had been weeks since he’d suffered the torments of his early days in the colonies, but as he thrashed about on the bed he was transported back in time…

In his subconscious, he was shoved roughly onto the ship carrying transports for the long haul down the Atlantic. His heavy, iron chains bit into the skin of his wrists and ankles, quickly rubbing them raw, as they clanged with his every step across the rough wooden deck.

He was led down a narrow set of steps into a hold that resembled that of a slave ship and forced to sit on a wooden bench next to men who looked at him as though it might be a guess who would actually arrive to their destination alive.

On that ship is where the first battles officially took place. The food rations were few and Devin went to sleep many times with his stomach gnawing with hunger, and that was when he wasn’t keeping one eye open with the threat he might be murdered. And it happened often. Either the victim was suffocated or stabbed with a rogue splinter that had become a makeshift knife, as the panic for survival was all too real.

Those that died didn’t even have a proper burial. As a criminal already sentenced to die somewhere other than England, their bodies were wrapped up in a section of tarp and shoved over the side of the rail for the inhabitants of the sea to feast upon.

After the first few, Devin stopped trying to keep count, because what did it matter? He would either make it to the colonies alive, or he would perish soon after he got there.

It was inevitable.

Even though he might have been resourceful at picking pockets, it meant nothing the moment he’d arrived on Norfolk Island. In truth, he wished he’d died on that ship, as it would have spared him the horrors that would come…

“Devin! Wake up!”

The voice sounded like that of his angel, but that was impossible. She had never visited him in this hell.

As hands reached for him, he lashed out, caught in between the realm of reality and fantasy. “Shh. It’s all right. You’re safe here. No one can hurt you.”

Not until a slight whiff of lilac surrounded him, followed by the touch of a cool, feminine hand on his forehead, did the horrific images slowly fade and Devin’s eyes popped open. He was still wary at first, expecting to see the enemy standing above him, but it was Constance’s face staring at him through the torment.

Devin blinked, confused. “Where am I?” he asked hoarsely.

From her position beside him on the bed, his angel spoke again. “You’re safe with me. In London,” she added, as if for good measure.

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