Blue Voodoo: A Romantic Retelling of Bluebeard (The Hidden Kingdom Series Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

mind’s eye. Her dark eyes glittering with passion, sienna skin warm as her blood heated at his touch. If he closed his eyes he could still see her beneath him, still feel the luscious curves of her body against his own more solid frame. His palms itched at the memory, hands clamoring to feel her again, hold her.
    “Are you angry, Dominique?” He licked his lips, scanning the crowd as if his thoughts would summon her, the woman who had haunted his dreams for over a decade. “I hope so. If I remember correctly, you are so beautiful when you’re angry.”
    “I angered a queen once.”
    Julien startled, whirling around to find Drust once again beside him. He stood there next to Julien as if they were bosom buddies, his hands planted on his hips as he surveyed the crowd, a thoughtful expression on his pale, angular face.
    “Excuse me?” Julien consciously put thoughts of violence from his mind. Killing the pest would bring more trouble to him than it was worth. The Unseelie might want Drust dead, but that didn’t mean they’d appreciate someone else doing the deed for them.
    “The Queen of Mu,” Drust went on. “In the days after I first left court, I stayed for a while in the Kingdom of Mu. I met Her Majesty, and I suggested that the yearly blood sacrifice could easily be provided by the human subjects of the kingdom—that taking blood from creatures beyond the veil was unnecessary and a bit insulting.” He rubbed his arms as though trying to rid himself of a remembered sensation.
    “And?” Julien asked warily.
    “And?” Drust’s brow pinched in the center. “And do you think I reflect back on that and think ‘Well done, Drust, what a clever sidhe you are?’ No, I don’t. I think back and I remember how unpleasant it was being strung up by briars, my own blood dripping over a gaping pit in the land with teeth— teeth —at the bottom.” A shiver ghosted over his body. “Upsetting a queen is not a good idea.”
    “No. Angering me was not a good idea.” The erotic memories of a moment ago fled under a surge of temper as Julien remembered why he was here, what had finally drove him back to this wretched little town. “For ten years I’ve let her insult stand, dealt with the consequences of her childish temper. Now I am finished. She will answer for what she’s done, and she will make amends.” He straightened his spine, scrutinizing his surroundings like a king surveying a newly acquired territory. “She will marry me.”

Chapter Three
     
    “Blessed Papa Legba, we pray you—”
    The ason slammed into the ground with far more force than Dominique had intended. The hard shell of the rattle cracked along with several of the beads that decorated it, colored bits of glass flying in all directions like festive shrapnel. Her fingers spasmed on the handle of the ruined holy object, and she pressed her lips together, forcing herself to count to ten. This is unacceptable.
    “Um…Madame Laveau? Are you all right?”
    Dominique shot to her feet, clutching the broken ason to her skirt in an effort to hide the destruction her temper had wrought. Virgine, a tall, willowy woman with skin the color of a new fawn and eyes more gold than brown, halted inside the tent where Dominique had been trying to meditate. She kept her distance, respectfully giving Dominique space even as her face pinched with concern.
    “I’m fine.” Dominique held herself with as much dignity as she could muster. “I need to go to my sacred space. I will be back shortly.”
    She marched for the door, the space between her shoulder blades itching under the weight of the ounsi’s scrutiny. Virgine was the most gifted singer in the village, and Dominique usually welcomed her with open arms for the beauty her voice leant to her rituals. Unfortunately, Virgine was also incredibly perceptive—a trait Dominique found less attractive in this particular moment.
    “But… But the evening’s celebration—”
    “I will return in plenty of