A Pirate's Agony (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

good ever since he drank from Zuto’s lake.
    Dubois flicked his whip. “Welcome back, Amadi.”
    Amadi blinked.
    “ Oui , I remember you. You’ll not like it here. I promise.” He slapped the butt of his whip on Amadi’s chest. “If you try to strangle me like you did poor Franc Bèringer, when you escaped, I’ll see you burned alive. You’re damn lucky you’re not dead. But the decision’s not mine. If it were, you’d be dead.”
    Amadi wanted to strangle Dubois like he had Bèringer, a stout man with a nasty temper. He’d felt no remorse when he’d seized the whip and wrapped it around the man’s thick neck and squeezed tighter and tighter. Bèrginer had begged for mercy. But Amadi had none. The man squawked like a mother hen, his eyes bulging out of his head, his face turning purple.
    Amadi filed into line next to the other men, and Chloe wrapped her arms around his thigh. A white carriage pulled up to him, and the door swung open. Maîtresse D’Aubigne stuck out her hand, and the footman helped her out. Her white, frilly gown swooshed as she headed over. She twirled her white and pink parasol. Her black hair was pulled up into a bun, and loose black curls flared around her face.
    She was a beauty, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Violet in her pale, drab, brown dress. Her face and hands were tan opposed to the mistress’ white creamy skin and the gloves that protected her hands. Violet followed the mistress, but always three steps behind like a trained dog.
    “ Oui , Fine bucks.” She stopped in front of Amadi and flashed a leering smile. “Especially you. You make these other garçons look like mere boys.” She turned to Dubois. “He’s the one.”
    “But Mademoiselle D’Aubigne, he’s not to be trusted.” He slammed the butt of the whip into Amadi’s back.
    Amadi bit back a groan.
    “He strangled Franc Bèringer, the last overseer. He should be burned alive.”
    Amadi braced his shoulders in defiance and glowered at Dubois.
    Maîtresse D’Aubigne pointed at Dubois. “Touch him, and you will feel my wrath.”
    Dubois’ eyes widened, and he set his jaw. Fear itched into his face. He was afraid, very afraid.
    She smiled. “Fix him up and bring him to me. The smell of the other slaves is tainting his.” She sauntered up to Amadi, her eyes gleaming with devilry. “I want to smell only him. Then bring him to my private chambers where he can pleasure me.”
    The woman had no shame, and neither the slaves nor her men flinched.
    “No,” Amadi said.
    She arched a thin eyebrow. “You defy me?”
    Violet shook her head and mouthed the word no. Did she actually think he would submit to such degradation? He’d been forced to once, and once was one too many times. He’d vowed never to submit again to another man—or woman. He was a free man.
    Maîtresse D’Aubigne folded her parasol and ran it down Amadi’s bare chest. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you. Take him to the dungeon.”
    Amadi remembered Jacques’ dungeon and how he’d found the Capt’n strapped to the wheel, his limbs broken, spikes tearing through his flesh. The realization he was going to be imprisoned in the hellhole sent dread to tangle in his stomach, to knot into a mass of nerve endings that rippled with terror and panic over the thought of what the mistress would do. 
    A lanky man grabbed Chloe, who stretched out her arms. “No!”
    Tears pooled in her eyes, and she screamed.
    “Leave da chit alone!” Amadi demanded. But his commanding voice fell on deaf ears. He wasn’t the master gunner, feared and respected by his gun crew.
    The man shoved Chloe into a nearby tall woman. “Take the brat.”
    The slave immediately picked Chloe up and held her close. “Hush, child,” she said. Although fear coated her voice, she strangely comforted Chloe, and the little girl clung to her.  
    Two men seized his arms. Amadi twisted his body, trying to knock them to the ground, but ’twas useless. His bound neck, ankles,