The Eleventh Hour [ePub]

by Fawn Lowery

The murky nighttime shadows played across Jacque’s angular features, distorting the chiseled planes and swarthy countenance of the Frenchman. His simple dress of ruffled shirt opened at the throat and high-waisted trousers, was obscured in the dimness, yet his large form made an impressive imprint against the brooding cloud-laden skyline. He stood with his back to the railing of the ship, his arms folded across his chest in a protective gesture. When he spoke, his tone was filled with worry despite the lighthearted banter he attempted to engage in with his long-time friend.

“Do not despair, the ship will make landfall before the moon changes. The captain promised us.”

Jacque turned his gaze overhead. The tingling in his bones belied the onset of the full moon. Hours before the transformation of his body, he was all too aware of the impending consequence lying ahead for him. He shook his head and laid his hands on the railing. “Vogue la galere!”

John sniffed disapprovingly. “Speak English, will you?”

“Mon ami, you have traveled with me for three years now and still you cannot understand the simplest French phrase?”

“Must I always try and guess what you are saying to me?”

Jacque forced a laugh. “Let come what may.” He raked one hand through his hair. “I am doomed forever.”

John sighed and gazed overhead. The curse of being a werewolf was not his to deal with, yet he suffered remorse each time Jacque was forced to face his fate. They had come on the journey to the Americas in search of a cure for his condition. Surely, fate was not so cruel as to wish such destructive torment on him forever. There had been rumors of a doctor across the ocean that could rid the soul of the curse and so, shortly after Jacque had suffered through another transformation and shackled arm and leg to the steel grate of a cell in his home’s cellar, he had decided to seek out the noted medic and place himself in his care.

The ship rolled on a wave and John staggered. He grabbed for the railing, only to find his hand failed to touch the steadying barrier, but then felt the familiar touch of Jacque’s strong hand on his arm, pulling him to safety at his side. He was a good friend, and sexual partner. His body now secure against Jacque’s, he dared to let his thoughts return to the heated sexual bout he had shared with Jacque and Etta. Only minutes ago, the three were concealed safely inside Etta’s cabin, their naked bodies entangled atop her small bunk, gyrating, sweating, reaching orgasm almost simultaneously.

Once the group climax had waned, he and Jacque had sought the open deck to catch their breath and allow their senses to relax. Etta had quickly shooed them out of her way, claiming she needed to freshen up and tidy her hair. They both knew what she had in mind. Every time, after one of their sexual innuendoes, Etta wrote in her journal. She claimed to be only making notes so that she might stumble across more ways they could experiment to bring pleasure to each other, but both men knew she would one day write a book of their liaisons.

The noises of the ocean traveled on the breeze, whipping the white billowing sails of the ship. Rhythmic slapping of water against the wooden hull seemed to sing along the deck flooring, drumming the mesmerizing cadence against the soles of their shoes. John leaned his forearms across the railing and looked out at the cresting waves. The ship had been delayed two days because of a fierce storm. The water had cascaded onto the deck and the high-pitched frightened voices of the crew could be heard below deck as they worked frantically to secure the ship in the storm.

18.04.2012

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