Airship Seduction

Airship Seduction

Empath demon Sacha Camomescro is rescuing refugees from Victorian Europe’s

war on magic when she meets a man unlike any other. Javier Vargas is an alpha
werewolf, his pack nearly decimated by assassins, his appetite for justice superseded
only by his desire for Sacha.

But Sacha’s gift is also her curse. While reading minds is helpful in eluding the

assassins sent by Europe for Progress, it cripples her ability to trust men and enjoy sex, for
she can always see men’s fantasies when they’re with her. But Javier has a single-
minded focus when it comes to his pursuit.

Just when it seems Sacha can trust him, her airship crew starts getting picked off

mid-flight—and it would appear a rabid animal is at fault. Javier and his lone
remaining pack member fall under suspicion, and in the hysteria, Sacha begins to lose
control of her mission. Blindsided by passion, she must decide if she can trust the one
man who wants her just as she is.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Airship Seduction

ISBN 9781419938429

Edited by Grace Bradley

Cover art by Syneca

Photography: Igor Zh/Shutterstock.com; Fotolia.com; romancenovelcovers.com

Electronic book publication March 2012

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Dedication

For Mark Cameron, who is the Javier to my Sacha.

Acknowledgments

Steampunk, as a genre, has been in the works for a hundred and fifty years, and I

owe an extreme debt of gratitude to my English and History professors in college for

making sure that I understood history well enough to know how to punk it. Thank you

to Suzanne Lazear for an excellent Steampunk workshop in 2010, where I first thought I

could write it myself, more than just love it as a genre. An enormous thank you to Paul

Trout who told me, as a young student, that I would write something brilliant someday.

If this isn't the brilliant thing you were talking about, I promise to do better next time.

Thank you to Keely, who took me to see the research movies and let me babble

about this world. So tirelessly. I couldn’t be writing without Jill, Mary, Cathy, Kristy

and Julia, who loved this idea before it was a book (especially the moments where Jill

would shout, “This will be a movie!”). Or without Denny and Steena, who critiqued this

to within an inch of its very tenuous life at the time.

And of course, no book would be artistically complete without its editorial

contributions. A huge acknowledgment to Grace Bradley and the amazing team at

Ellora’s Cave for the wholeness that is this book—all the parts where it doesn’t suck are

their doing. No artist creates in a vacuum, and I am no exception. I’m so grateful to my

family and friends for their shaping my life to make me who I am today, which has

produced the book you’re about to read. I am eternally in their debt.

Camryn Rhys

Chapter One

Barcelona, 1871

Their first mistake was thinking she didn’t speak Spanish. Their second, and most

unfortunate, assuming she couldn’t read minds.

Kill her was the prevailing sentiment. They crowded around, a hazy sea of faces,

their minds snarling as violently as their mouths. Sacha tried to keep the anticipation of

her escape—or rather, relocation—from showing, but something caught her off-guard.

Fear. And it wasn’t hers. She reached out to find the source of it and felt the anxious

pulse of someone’s urgency.

Run. Now.
She searched the faces for some sign of her ally, but found none. The leader stalked

toward her, indistinct tattoos rippling on shoulders that glistened with sweat in the

humid Spanish night. “What’s a pretty lady like you doing in such a bad part of town?”

She waited for the click of the metal linguistor implant that protruded over her ear,

but it remained silent. He spoke English, so something about her outfit gave her away.

As much as she tried to blend in, sometimes she couldn’t hide her ties to England.

“I’m lost.”
The leader stopped his circling and looked back into the crowd behind him. His

broad shoulders relaxed momentarily and she felt the push of urgency again.

Run into the light.
So this was her ally? The prowling alpha leader? With his spidery tattoos and

tattered vest hiding the expanse of his chest, he hardly looked the type to release

unsuspecting prey. He couldn’t possibly know she read his mind, so why was he

thinking in strategy for her?

She felt that niggling instinct that had been itching the back of her mind since they

first approached her. They were all thinking in Spanish, as they should. They were,

after all, Spaniards. She could feel the linguistor clicking with each translation.

But the fearful voice spoke in English. Thought. In English.
Why aren’t you running, woman?
He straightened his neck and spoke to his men in a hushed tone. Without

hesitation, Sacha kicked him in the back of his right leg and sprinted for the lit street.

Undoubtedly expecting a cowering Englishwoman, the men didn’t follow at first, but

she could feel their surprise, then their immediate anger.

One was quicker than the others, but still, they did not reach her before she

exploded into the bright circle of the streetlamp.

Airship Seduction

More important, out of the building shadow, into the reach of the moonbeams.
Inside the curl of the gaslight she stood alone, facing the darkness, feeling their

emotions and thoughts intrude, even though their bodies did not. They prowled the

edges, but stopped each time the shadows ended, and retraced their steps.

“You can show yourself if you want,” she said, tentatively. “I know what you are.”

The street was deserted, an abandoned corner of Barcelona that had been left to these

gangs after the last mass murder. The decrepit faces of once-beautiful hand-crafted

brick buildings frowned at her from their shadows. Their burnt frames were all that

remained of what had been Barcelona’s pride and the home of its burgeoning middle

classes.

Now, Avinguda was all but deserted, left to the violent men who guarded it. These

men. If her seer was right, there weren’t even any women left in this pack. And from the

looks of the youngest of the prowling herd, no children either.

“What we are?” This must have been the leader’s voice, for behind the audible

interest, she could feel the remnants of the fear that had pushed her into the light in the

first place. “You know nothing of who we are.”

She pressed further inside his mind and gasped. Unlike the rest of the men, whose

wolves were the black borders of their conscious mind, the alpha leader had chained

and guarded his. Built a wall almost like the scorched brick at her back around his inner

wolf. Even when the first night of the wolf moon engulfed them, his wolf behaved. The

other wolves urged their men to submit, to let them free, to walk into the moonlight.

But the leader must have ordered them out, for none of them ventured to follow

her, and they remained safely hidden in shadows.

“Yet you think you know who I am.” Sacha pulled the cape from her shoulders and

let it billow to the ground. “You do not.” What had appeared under the obfuscation of

the cape to be a fully skirted gown now revealed her short-cropped cerulean dress,

black knee-high boots, black tightly trousered legs, and copper torso cover. The uniform

of the Resistance.

The Resistance. This they understood. Europe for Progress had infiltrated far enough

into the bowels of the Spanish streets that its opposition was recognizable on sight.

The leader’s fear abated. He’d thought her one of the Disraeli assassins, no doubt,

but she allayed that worry. Now the question proved, would he trust her?

“You dress as one of our allies, but we have been tricked by these Englishmen

before, in many disguises.” The leader spoke again, but his confidence was as much an

act as it had been before. This time, however, he masked interest instead of fear.

Interest in more than her mission.
“Show yourself, and I will prove it to you.” Her heart hammered for the first time

all night as he stepped into the gas-lit street. The powerful cut of his muscled arms

seemed more pronounced in better lighting. His broad shoulders flexed as the

transformation rippled through him.

Camryn Rhys

At first, it was as though coarse hair sprouted from his pores, and the already

tattered vest stretched across his well-defined chest, straining against the power that

pressed at it. His thighs tore the fabric of his pants as they lengthened and spread, then

curled into the lupine stance that seemed now so familiar.

From inside the folds of her short dress, she pulled the Prata Mudanca, its silver

circle sparkling in the gaslight. With a flick of her index finger, she opened it and

reached toward his expanding body. The bracelet clasped around his hairy forearm

with a snap of her wrist, and as soon as the circle closed, the transformation halted.

Then, as gradually as it had come upon him, it reversed. His thighs returned to

their former human glory, naked beneath torn trousers. His vest, now open where it

shredded under the pressure of expansion, hung around his heaving chest. The thick

fur sucked back inside his pores, and only the dusting of black hair on his chest and

arms remained.

With unmitigated wonder, he stared at Sacha, then at the Prata, and back at Sacha.

His gaze dropped to her heaving cleavage. Heat shot up the sides of her neck,

unbidden, under the intensity of lust that radiated from him as the transformation

abated.

Werewolf lust, she’d seen before. But this was new. Not animalistic, but intensely

emotive. Throbbing. Needy. Stop it, Javier. She can hear you.

The unguarded thought caught her by surprise, and she couldn’t help the quick

intake of breath, the drop of her jaw. When he registered these things, he shook his

head.

Wait. Don’t call out. Just stay calm.
Could he read her thoughts as well? Quickly, she fortified her mind against

intrusion and pulled her emotions tight behind those walls.

“What is this?” He gestured toward her with the arm now encased in the silver

bracelet. Just above the edge of the Prata, the snaking lines of his tattoos bloomed up the

side of his arm and wound across his shoulders as well. Perhaps even across his back,

or down his spine to places unseen. The alpha lobos in Spain were rumored to have

tattoos that covered their entire bodies, including every inch of their flesh. The heat

returned to her face as she thought of all the ways she could test that theory.

She prayed he couldn’t read her mind.
The fawn-colored skin of his jaw worked in tension as he eyed her. His thoughts

unreadable, his emotion clear, he just watched and waited. His companions in the

shadows were not so patient.

“Kill her, Javier,” one shouted.
Another yelled, “Grab her before she runs again.”
Javier pushed one hand through his shoulder-length black hair and swore. They

want to kill you, woman. Tell us what we need to know. I don’t want to hurt another innocent.

Airship Seduction

“I can’t tell you much now.” Sacha held her arms wide to silence them. Around her,

the streets of Barcelona were silent and dark, save the occasional pop of lamp light. Not

a soul to be found, thankfully. Yet, it wouldn’t be long before the assassin caught up

with her again, and she would prefer to be back on the Harbinger with whatever of the

lobos would follow before he overtook them as he had in Cordova.

Javier raised his hand when the cries from his pack began anew. “You will tell us

who you are and what your business is, or we will be forced to kill you, as our custom

demands.”

“As your blood demands, you mean.” Her challenge, though not as strong as she

would have liked, obviously found a home, because his shoulders slumped minutely.

“You know not of what you speak.”
She put her hand on the silver bracelet, covering its heat with her own. “I know the

warmth of the Prata. I have seen it keep the change at bay in more than just your kind,

my friend.”

“The Prata?” Javier’s dark eyebrows raised.
“It’s an enchanted invention, whose secrets even I don’t know. But regardless, it

will keep you a man.” Her finger slipped from the expanse of silver onto his skin and

found it to be hotter than either her own body or the warm liquid metal that kept him

human in the moonlight. Something sparked deep within her. A longing she’d

imprisoned long ago.

Perhaps she should just leave one Prata behind and abandon them to Disraeli’s

assassins. No doubt the man who dogged her steps would arrive before the morning,

perhaps even before they reached the Harbinger. He was finding them faster and faster

with each stop.

Perhaps he would kill some of the lobos, as he also had in Cordova.
He would certainly kill them all if she didn’t take them with her immediately. They

would be the last she’d be able to find in Spain, now that her trail had been picked up

by the Empire.

“The Prata will keep you safe from Disraeli’s assassins. At least, it will hide your

animal when the moon’s out.”

Murmurs rose in the shadows. They knew of the assassins, even in the empty

streets of Barcelona. The fear in the ranks of these lobos permeated the darkness and

overwhelmed her stretching senses.

“How do you know of the assassins? Surely you occupy yourself with more

ladylike pursuits than the fairy tales of a deluded empire.”

“Fairy tales? So you’re suggesting that your previous transformation, which if you

will remember I stopped with the Prata, was, what? My imagination?”

Javier’s full lips curled into a lopsided smirk and his eyes coursed over her body

again. His tongue slipped out to wet those lips, and her heartbeat bolted.

Camryn Rhys

Sacha wasn’t surprised to find herself naked in his mind. She was always naked in

men’s minds. What always shocked her was the way they filled in the details

differently. Some pictured her with higher, firmer breasts than she had. Most imagined

them bigger and fuller. The size of her areolas often changed, as did their tint.

Some wanted her to have bigger thighs than she did, or smaller. A fuller butt, or a

less…significant one. She silently blessed those men. Some even blurred out her face. Or

her features would gradually morph into those of another woman, one she usually did

not recognize.

What they did to her was always different. Many pictured her lips around their—

awfully sizable, and likely imaginary—erections. Some would press their cocks inside

her, in a variety of positions, mostly unimaginative. Occasionally, one would have her

bound, and it wasn’t unusual for them to be violent, even to draw blood.

She was rarely turned-on by what they saw, and when she was, it never lasted long.

Disappearing into their minds, forgotten, wounded her, made her lock up her heart.

But Javier was different, and the dark flare of his eyes told her he knew it. He knew

she was reading his thoughts, and his explicit fantasy unfolded, flooding her senses.

She could smell her own very real arousal, and from his shifting stance, he responded in

kind.

She was naked in front of him, spread on a silky bed in the moonlight. Her breasts

and thighs and hips and lips were all exactly as she knew them to be. There was no

imaginative embellishment, as though he were picturing a memory rather than a

fantasy.

And he looked at her. Prowled, circled, drank deeply with his eyes, an erection

growing gradually between his powerful thighs.

Sacha also doubted that was embellished.
In his fantasy, he did not touch himself, although that was common enough among

men who liked to watch. Rather, he began at her toes, and licked her all the way to her

mouth, giving equal attention to the inside of her ankle, her kneecap and her clitoris,

her bellybutton, nipple, neck, lips.

Attention that left her every nerve alive, and her every desire unsatisfied as though

awake from hibernation. Hungry. Wet, and very hungry.

His feast of her body ended with a deep, wet, luxurious kiss, eerily similar to the

one from her own imagination when his tongue had trailed over his mouth a moment

ago, which made it difficult to concentrate on the mortal peril.

Good heavenly angels, how was she ever going to forget that tasting?
Yes, the mortal peril. These men were in mortal peril.
“Forgive my boldness, sir, but let’s drop the illusions you have of my ladylike

tendencies, and I will drop my illusions of your gentlemanly behavior. You are an

animal, I am a demon. At the risk of sounding trite, I believe you need me.”

Airship Seduction

Javier’s heart hadn’t pumped like this in his human form perhaps in his entire life.

The fear for her well-being when she’d been trapped by his cuadrilla had almost knee-

capped him. The adrenaline he knew, from when the change would take him. As a wolf

he felt the baser lusts, the hunger for violence, the need for feminine flesh. But as a man,

he’d learned to control these urges years ago.

He’d had to.
So the fascination with a couple of perfectly formed heaving breasts underneath

that copper-plated business caught him unaware. He wanted to rip the breastplate from

her body and free all those lovely curves to the muggy night air.

He wondered what she would look like, splayed beneath him, writhing with need,

slick with sweat and heat and desire. One more lustful thought and he might just come

popping right out for God and all to see.

Javier chastised himself for his lack of control. No matter what she said, she was a

lady and an innocent, although perhaps not a virgin, given her response to his rather

blatant perusal. Still, he would not act like an unstudied pup, taken by every lust that

coursed through him.

After that moment of weakness, he was in control again until he sensed Rico’s

tether breaking as they circled her in the alley. He hadn’t known she was an Empatia

until he felt the spike of her heel when he prayed she would run.

Although he couldn’t read her mind, he recognized the response to knowledge that

pressed out fear. Fear was something he was an expert in, if instinct could make one an

expert.

Her fear of him abated, and her wide, curious eyes and damp, open mouth made

his cock stir to life.

Mi Dios, if she could affect him thus using only his imagination, what would it be

like when she touched him?

And then she had touched him. Javier thought he might spill himself all over the

cobbled street when the heat of her skin met his. It had been too long since his last

conquest.

He needed her, she’d said. More specifically, they needed her. Disraeli’s assassins

must be on their way, just as they’d been warned, and now some demon woman

arrived, a savior. A tempting, perfectly formed demon woman, but a woman just the

same.

She blushed and turned her head, revealing the long beauty of her neck, the blood

pulsing just under her skin. A curse of his nature, he could always sense blood, and

hers pushed itself ever faster through her long, lovely body.

His own blood quickened.
Focus, Javier.

Camryn Rhys

“How did you stop the change?” He gestured again to his arm, encased in the silver

band. The once-smaller metal circle had tightened around his arm to become almost like

a layer of second skin.

“I cannot tell you, and I have only one.” She turned in a circle, addressing his

cuadrilla who still paced in the shadows. “But if you will come with me to my ship, I can

have more made. I promise to answer all questions, if you will but follow me to the

docks. We must leave at once.”

“We do not follow English whores.” Rico’s voice rang into the light, and the hair on

Javier’s arms stood in violent anger.

Javier rounded on him, holding his arms out to make a barrier between the violent

underling and the beautiful demon. He swore in Spanish and growled at Rico, who

returned the threat.

“And yet you followed me into the shadows, lobo.” She addressed Rico, although

she could not possibly see into the darkness as Javier could. The tenor of her voice bated

his rival, and he grasped her arm.

When he touched her flesh, heat seared through him, and he straightened. The

desire shot from his fingertips to his toes, pooling in his crotch. This woman was too

daring with his men, and it was turning him on.

“None of you have seen what I have seen,” she shouted. Pulling free from him, she

stepped toward the edge of the gaslight. “The Empire has sent men to all corners of the

globe seeking to exterminate remnants of magic from the world. In the name of

progress, they target you and me. Science must rule, they say. And magic must die.”

She circled the edge of the light, speaking directly to many of the men pacing in the

shadows, but paying particular attention to Rico. “I am part of The Resistance, and I am

here to take you to safety.”

“So you say!” Rico shouted. Javier’s large rival hovered just inside the dark lip of

shadow, barely an arm’s length from her fragile frame.

Javier stepped behind her, eyeing Rico over her shoulder and rising to his full

height. Only three or four inches taller than this demon woman, he nonetheless

stretched to dwarf her, to remind Rico of who led this pack after all.

“I know your numbers have dwindled in recent months. I know you have been

promised peace before and been tricked.” From inside the folds of her dress, she pulled

another object. Not like the silver band, this was a copper sphere, folded together like a

pocket watch. This sphere, however, was bigger and rounder than any pocket watch

Javier had seen.

Her delicate fingers plucked the latch and the sphere popped open. It unfolded into

one large picture window and a solid base. In the picture window flickered something

Javier never expected to see again. Mira. His heart tightened.

“They promised us freedom from the assassins.” Mira’s perfect face fluttered in and

out of focus and Javier’s breath stopped. Not only was her face unmarred and perfect,

but her voice was clear and real. “Two men in Resistance dress. They took my brother

Airship Seduction

and I and several of our pack to the docks, promising us something that would stop the

change so we could live as fully human again.”

The image blacked out, then reappeared. “My brother was killed instantly, but I

escaped with my life. When the Avinguda pack took me in, I heard stories of others

who had been set upon by these men. There was no way for us to know they were truly

with La Resistencia.”

After Mira’s face disappeared, Javier stood staring at the face of the instrument for

many moments. The pack stilled in the shadows, and even Rico kept his silence.

The demon woman flipped the instrument closed and stared intently at Javier.

While aware of her presence, all Javier could think was Mira was alive. He’d thought

her lost for good, but this woman had shown him proof she had not died at the hands

of the Empire after all.

“I’m sorry I had to show you that,” the demon woman said, quietly.
“It’s a trick, Javier.” Rico’s silence was as short-lived as his temper.
“It’s no trick.” She held the orb aloft. “This is a conjuring orb, and that report was

delivered to one of our Spanish officers shortly after she joined your pack.”

“And where is she now?” Javier tried to keep the emotion from his voice, but the

thought of Mira’s survival brought tears to his eyes.

The woman shook her head, her raven curls bouncing on her shoulders. He noticed

for the first time that her perfectly coiffed hair had come unpinned in one place. For an

unguarded moment, he thought of reaching into the curls to re-pin it, as he had so often

done with Mira. The thought stilled his breath.

“We have had no word from her in months.”
“So she is dead, as was reported?”
“We believe so, yes.” The woman replaced the orb into her dress.
Javier’s momentary hope expunged, his heart dropped. Mira, who for a moment

might have been alive somewhere, was now again dead. It was as they had been told.

Guilt washed over him at the thought that only moments before he’d seen his dead

lover’s face, he had been openly lusting after another woman.

The demon woman laid a soft hand on his arm, and he could feel the compassion

radiating from her. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and grunted.

“Men of Avinguda.” When he opened his eyes, each of his pack stood straight in

the shadows. Except Rico, who cowered now at the rear. “This woman offers us the

chance at freedom. I say we take it.”

“She could have conjured Mira’s image from dark powers,” Rico shouted from

behind several men, nonetheless sounding formidable.

“But to have such an exact likeness…” Javier trailed off, unable to finish his

thought. He’d wanted to admit that he thought her alive again, but thought better of it.

His men must not see him in this moment of weakness. And that’s exactly what it was.

Camryn Rhys

He’d long ago vowed never to let a woman rob him of his power of choice again. Even

seeing Mira and thinking she might be alive did not change that.

“It is convincing, yes,” said Tomas.
“But what if she lies?” Rico countered.
“We must take a chance.” Javier stepped to the demon woman’s side. The heat of

her body overpowered even the gaslight above his head. She grew hotter by the

moment, he was certain.

“We were nearly overtaken in Cordova.” She bent to retrieve the cloak she dropped

when she revealed her La Resistencia dress. With a flourish, she spread its black depths

around her again, and the illusion of full skirts and high necklines appeared

underneath, pushing the image of her tightly trousered calves into his imagination.

“By assassins?” he asked.
“They killed two of the men we were trying to save, and one of my officers.” With

long steps, she crossed the circle. “They cannot be more than a few hours behind me,

and we must move quickly if we are to escape them.”

“If we come with you.” Rico would not relent.
Javier tired of Rico’s attitude. It wouldn’t be long before the young man challenged

him for the alpha role, and it was time to put him in his place. “As the leader of the

Avinguda, I am ordering you to accompany this woman to her ship. We will leave

Barcelona this very night.”

Airship Seduction

Chapter Two

This was too surreal. With an order from Javier, the entire pack circled the shadows

and followed her through the alleys of Barcelona. Javier held her arm, walking in front

of his men with her at his side.

While she didn’t normally enjoy being manhandled in this way, she was afraid that

pulling away might dampen whatever tenuous hold he had on these men’s loyalty to

her. She certainly wanted their trust. And for now, that meant being perhaps closer to

this muscled, dominating alpha lobo than she preferred.

The closer her proximity, the more tempting it was to push into his mind, and what

she’d seen there earlier was enough to bring a fresh blush to her cheeks.

After the image she’d caught of the two of them entwined in a luxurious bed, she

no longer had control over the wetness that seeped into her underclothes. She also

decided not to push into his mind again, although when he glimpsed Mira’s picture on

the reglimeter, she was tempted to try one more time.

The sorrow on his face was more than that of a leader or a friend. She wondered if

they had been married. Mira’s interviews mentioned many men whose bed she’d

shared when acclimating to the pack. Javier’s name had never come up, and neither had

the possibility of her marriage.

Granted, the interviews had been conducted years ago. She could have met Javier

and fallen head over heels in love. Sacha could see how that might be possible with

him. Or at least head over heels in lust. On your back in a giant, cool bed in lust. Or on

his back. Or front. It didn’t really matter. As long as you got the bed and the lust part.

Even then, the bed was negotiable.
Lord in heaven, she needed a good tumble.
They flew through the darkened streets, careful to stick to shadows. Limping

buildings curled up into the night, inside the heart of the city. The more the buildings

crowded the darkening sky, the closer they came to the docks.

A sudden cry stopped them all in their tracks.
Javier whipped Sacha around as the rest of the pack turned. One of the men lay on

the packed earth of the alley, a tiny arrow in his neck.

“Tomas!” Another man knelt beside the body, feeling for a pulse. With wild eyes,

he glowered at Sacha. Javier stepped in front of her again, putting his pulsing body

between her and the angry lobo.

“This is a trap,” one of the men hissed.
“We should never have come.” The kneeling man stood with unnervingly

deliberate slowness. “I told you she tricked us.”

Camryn Rhys

“No.” Javier backed up to her, the firm globes of his butt pressing into her

abdomen, standing practically inside the folds of her cape. “Mira would never have

trusted our enemy with this information. We must continue.”

He pulled her around a corner, pressing them both against the hard, cold brick

façade of a cathedral. “Promise me that your words are true.” His face mere inches from

hers, he locked on to her eyes with a pleading gaze, not the dark brown she’d come to

expect from the Spanish, but sparkling deep green with golden flecks.

How she longed to be lost in that gaze, and not always running.
Another sharp cry sounded from the back of the pack as another man, the last

around the corner, thudded to the street with a tiny black arrow protruding from his

neck.

“I promise you,” she returned. With her own pleading eyes, she begged for

understanding. “This is not me, this is the Empire. We must hurry.”

Javier gestured to the men. “Follow me.” He pulled Sacha along beside him again,

darting for the shadows and galloping to a full run. Thankfully, they followed.

“This way.” She pointed down a familiar street. The Harbinger would be docked at

the end, where this street met the ocean.

Javier’s hand pulled her back into the alley just as she was about to step into the

street. “We cannot all go into the moonlight,” he hissed in her ear.

His hot breath stabbed at the sensitive skin behind her ear, and her knees buckled.

Her body’s immediate response frustrated her. This was not the time or the place for

such a response, but she couldn’t help the immediate heat that pooled in her abdomen.

The more he breathed on her ear, waiting, the more her belly tightened.

Heat coursed through her, mingling with the fear to create an amazing sort of

heady lust that encompassed her entire body. Every pore hummed.

“Your captain had better be ready to hoist anchor.”
She laughed. “It’s not that kind of ship.”
A hand on her arm heightened her awareness of his nearness, multiplied by the

potential of death. “Do I not deserve to know what kind of ship you take us to?”

“An airship.”
His growl surprised her. “You expect us to be safe floating in one of those mad

balloons? We could run faster than it could carry us.”

“It’s not that kind of airship.” She glanced down the last long alleyway, crowded

with a gang of drunkards, which would lead them to the Harbinger. “Trust me.”

“You make it more difficult with each answer.” He released her arm. “Where is

your ship?”

“At the end of this street.”
“We will stay in the shadows until we can no longer stay out of the moonlight.”

Airship Seduction

Before they could move, another man thudded to the street behind them. Javier’s

wide eyes rested on each of the men. Only eight remained. Three had fallen, and two

appeared to have either gotten lost or been persuaded by the thought that she couldn’t

be trusted.

Sacha’s breath quickened. She had hoped to deliver all fourteen of the remaining

Avinguda weres, but at this rate, she would be lucky to deliver any.

“Another man down,” said one of the men. He was large and hulking, with dark

skin and eyes. But his eyes were dark with more than just color. Hatred seethed in their

orbs. “I told you this was a trap.”

Sacha extended a hand, stopped from touching the other man by Javier’s tight grip

on her arm. “Please, this is not me. We have been followed by assassins since we

entered Spain. I promise you safety if we can only reach my ship.”

Javier pulled her toward the alley that paralleled the street. “Come with me, men.

We are almost to the ship, and will be free of these murdering assassins.”

Before the words left his mouth, another shot whirred between them. The angry

one, the one who’d been trying to lead the pack away from Javier, was hit. Then in

quick succession, each of the men cried out and fell before them, like a line of sand

castles crumbling under the waves.

Sacha caught Javier just as he moved for them and pulled him down into a crouch

with her. Two more bullets struck the brick where their heads had been, showering

them with dust. “We must go. Now.”

He shook his head and put his arm around the younger lobo at his side. “I will go

back for them.”

She shook her head. “There won’t be time. The assassins will collect them and come

for us.” Sacha searched for an escape route that would take them away from the high

ground the assassins must have found. Looking back, she caught the flourish of a black-

caped body on the top of one building. They were on the move.

“This is our chance.”
She stood and ran for the alley. Javier and the other lobo followed, quickly catching

up. The sounds of people milling in the street masked their footfalls as they got closer to

the docks. At the end of the alley, the shadows ended and the moonlight waited.

Javier turned to his remaining follower and slapped the man’s shoulder. “We’ll get

you safely aboard that ship, Sergio. I promise.” The young man nodded at his leader,

pride shining in his dark eyes.

They peered around the building and Sacha pointed to the giant silhouette of the

Harbinger, which drifted near the long expanse of the pier where the water’s height

came to the edge of the wood.

“There’s the Harbinger.”
“The ship that sank in the Great Gale?” Sergio’s eyes widened in fright. “This is a

ghost ship.” The young lobo crossed himself and looked up at Javier.

Camryn Rhys

Sacha’s mouth curled into a smile. “That’s as close to the truth as anyone has come

yet. But there’s no storm can sink this ship.”

“There’s always a bigger storm than you can imagine.” Javier’s deadpan delivery

surprised Sacha. He eyed the ship warily and glanced behind them. “We must find a

way to get Sergio to the end of that pier without the moon touching his skin.”

Sacha threw her cape over the sinewy body of the young lobo. “I think this will

work, yes?”

Sergio pulled the cloak over his head so it covered all exposed skin. “I will do my

best to keep out of the moonlight.”

Sacha stepped into the street. “No need to run. We can make our way without

alerting anyone to our presence.”

They crossed to the pier, and a sharp whizzing sound passed Sacha’s ear. She

turned back to see the man from Cordova standing in the mouth of the alley. His long

dark cloak matched her own, although she doubted he bothered to wear a stolen or

fabricated Resistance uniform underneath.

He wasn’t pretending to be one of them anymore, was he? Now he was just hunting

them down.

“Run!” she yelled.
Before they got even ten feet, she heard a thunk behind her. With a quick prayer

that it wasn’t Javier lying in the street, she stopped and steeled herself to look. It wasn’t.

But he knelt beside Sergio and pulled the black gadget from his back.
“Don’t discard it!” she commanded. She took object from his hand and pulled him

up, but he resisted.

Javier bent to retrieve his fallen friend, hefting the body over his shoulder in one

quick movement. He hurried past her, but she stopped him.

“We don’t have time to take him.”
“We don’t have time to argue,” he corrected her, pulling her along. “The man with

the bullets is behind us.” He readjusted Sergio and kept running.

She followed.
Luc had the walkway down and Sacha yelled to her captain. “The Empire is behind

us!”

Javier trampled up the walkway with Sergio on his shoulder, and Sacha followed

with quick steps. She yanked on the lever to disengage and retract the walkway as soon

as her foot met the deck of the airship.

As always, once the long appendage began to draw back, Luc’s voice sounded

across the deck. “Air lift in thirty seconds.” They had this down to a science.

Sacha depressed the button on the communicator. “We don’t have thirty seconds.

Take off now. I don’t care if everything’s retracted or moving. Just get us in the air.”

Airship Seduction

With the engines running on idle, the ship in dock appeared to be like any other

seafaring vessel. But when Luc pushed the engines straight from idle to full, the noise

blasted anyone in a forty-foot radius. She’d been hoping for this.

The assassin crumpled under the noise, just as he was about to leap from the pier to

grasp the retracting end of the walkway. When he stood again, it soared well beyond

his reach. With one foot forward, he took aim with the device and depressed whatever

firing mechanism the Empire concocted that could now fire arrows or bullets at so great

a distance with such deadly accuracy.

One of these days, when they had him in their hold, she would examine this device.

The Empire, it seemed, was always outrunning them in the technology department.

But not for long.
The metal-tipped short arrow clanged against her copper breastplate, striking on

the inside of her left breast and falling toward the disappearing ocean below.

Deadly accuracy.
But for now, they were at least advanced enough to repel most of the attacks. She

worried this would not always be so.

With as much arrogance as she could muster, she pushed at the man’s psyche, but

while they were still in range of his firing device, he was out of range of her Empathy.

Or he’d developed a mask against her. This was not unheard of among the assassins.

They may hate magic, but they used it to protect themselves.

Better the devil you know, and all that rot.
Sacha latched the edge of the fully retracted walkway to the airship’s inner wall,

securing it against the early-morning air. Her heart still pounded from their encounter

with the caped assassin, and once she remembered that she’d brought guests on board,

she ran for the inner core of the ship where they would have been taken.

She clapped along the hallway that separated the large hold from the living

quarters. At the end of the hall, a door ajar told her where her captives had been

deposited.

When Sacha reached the hold, she found Javier panting, hovering over Sergio’s

lifeless body with tears on his cheeks. In the enclosed space of the airship, he seemed

bigger than he had before. His wide shoulders heaved as he gazed down at the still

young man.

All of my men. They’re all…and Sergio. I promised Mira.
At the mention of his dead lover’s name, Sacha pulled out of Javier’s mind. She was

only a touch irritated that he hadn’t been thinking of her instead, but also pushed that

thought away.

She took a step toward him, her hand outstretched. “This is not your fault.”
At her words, he straightened and stiffened. Before she could touch him, he turned

on her. “I must be allowed to burn his body before his wolf spirit disappears.”

Camryn Rhys

The linguistor clicked at her ear. For some reason, he’d reverted to Spanish. Perhaps

the shock of losing his men, perhaps he was testing her.

“We will be in Italy in two days’ time. You may burn him on landing,” she said.
Javier’s dark head shook in quick movements, then stilled, his eyes closing. “This is

not acceptable. If I do not burn his body before the moon rises again, his wolf spirit will

leave his body, and we will not recover him in the next lifetime.”

Sacha leaned against the heavy wall of the hold and drew a breath. There was no

possible way to accommodate this request, unless they threw him into the incinerator

deep in the caverns of the airship. Somehow, she doubted that was what Javier meant

when he said they should burn his body.

“I will speak with Luc, but I do not think this will be possible.”
She expected a violent outburst in response, and steeled herself for it, readying her

psychic arsenal, should he try to attack her. Instead, he sank to his knees, his eyes fixed

on Sergio’s face. “Please find a way.” Javier buried his face in his arms and fell onto

Sergio’s body, shaking with grief.

Sacha had seen the mourning rituals of Spanish lobos before, and knew to steer well

clear for as long as possible. She did not have the emotional stamina tonight to sit with

him while he grieved. Perhaps one of the Cordovans would know how to sit in

companionable silence while he tore through the emotions.

Yes, she would get right on that.

* * * * *

Sacha woke from a dreamless sleep to the presence of someone in her quarters.

While she rarely expected complete privacy, her crew usually protected her while she

slept. The new passengers must be a handful, because some hulking presence slipped

past the guards.

“You didn’t come to me when you boarded.” Luc’s voice seethed from the dark

corner of her cabin.

“I was tired.” She pulled up onto her elbows and the woolen blanket perched on the

edge of her breasts. “And we had new passengers.”

“Just one, I thought.” He struck a match and she followed the small light to the

candle, where its breadth grew to encompass Luc’s trousered legs, then his torso, then

his frowning face.

“Well, one alive.” She sat up a bit farther, pulling back on the lumpy mattress so she

could sit against the wooden wall. The cool, smooth surface contrasted sharply to the

warmth of her sheets. The blanket strained against her skin, but traveled well enough to

prevent her exposing herself to Luc.

Not that he would have minded.
In his mind, they were already naked, tangled in the sheets, humping like wild

animals. The picture of his hard, naked body sliding against hers normally made her

Airship Seduction

body prime for him. But this time, she could only remember the way Javier had licked

her from toe to mouth. That made her wet.

“I waited for you.”
“I was tired, Luc.” She glanced to the mirror, positioned so she could watch herself

with Luc when they were in her bed. Since the first day he’d come to her like this, she’d

been infatuated with watching. It was like seeing into her own mind the way she could

see into others’, and it excited her even more.

She looked as if she’d been sleeping, though. The dark circles under her eyes were

back, her hair was a mess, the right side of her face still flush from the warmth of her

pillow. She couldn’t imagine what he saw here that made him lust so ardently after her.

Well, she knew what he saw in his head, but always wished she didn’t.

“This man, he’s made you forget me, eh?” Luc’s dark-blond beard rippled with his

closed smile.

“I would never…” Sacha stopped before she gave herself away. Her response to

Javier’s fantasy had frightened even herself. She never left herself open to a man, not

with the kind of ardor she’d felt when Javier’s fantasy leapt at her.

“I could see him shooting at you, still, when we took off.”
Luc meant the assassin. Of course. He wouldn’t have seen her with Javier yet. And

she worried for the moment when he would. Although not an Empath, Luc had a knack

for reading people. He would see her heart on her face.

“I am unharmed.”
“I know that. But I still wish you would have come to me.” Luc moved toward her,

shedding his shirt as he went. Her shoulders tensed and he stopped, sitting on the edge

of the bed.

“You don’t want me to take my clothes off?”
“It should be almost morning, Luc. We need to check on the passengers.”
Luc’s hand brushed through his short, wheaten hair. “You always welcomed me

into your bed before, Sachela.”

She hated his pet name for her. But his Italian tongue had such a hard time

wrapping itself around her Gypsy name.

Not around her Gypsy cunt, though, and she felt the wetness building inside her.
“Maybe you keep your clothes on this time, Luc?” She pulled her hand from where

it held the blanket over her breasts, and it fell into her lap.

His eyes widened at the sight of her heavy breasts, and greedy hands reached for

her. “I needed you this morning.”

But that wasn’t really true. When he reached for her breasts, she reached for his

mind, and found herself suddenly gone from her own body. The rough pads of his

fingers excited her nipples before he took one fully into his mouth and suckled there.

But when he looked into the face of his fantasy, it was not Sacha’s faintly scarred cheek

that he brushed.

Camryn Rhys

It was also not Sacha’s chocolate-brown eyes that looked back in ecstasy as he

pressed his coarse fingertips onto her clitoris and inside her wet channel. Not in his

mind, anyway. The gaze in his fantasy was deep green, and bright with love, not hazed

with lust.

When he finally dropped his pants and freed his erection, she was so ready for him,

she practically begged for it. And she never begged.

On the outside, the way they pawed at each other would have appeared loving. He

called her “Sachela” and reached for her pleasure center as he panted. But as he drove

into her from behind, bracing himself against the wall, he was not thinking of her.

He pulled his wet cock out of her, leaving her desperate to be filled again. But as he

pumped white ropes of spunk onto her back, he thought of his first wife, who

happened to share Sacha’s voluptuous figure and raven black hair. And as the pressure

of climax built inside her belly, she pictured the dark, handsome werewolf who saw her

just as she was.

Luc was back at the helm as quickly as he could pull his clothes back on. Sacha,

however, lay naked on her stomach until she was certain he’d returned to the front of

the ship. Between the sex, all the running, and two days in the grimy city, she felt ready

for a bath. Sacha pulled on her blue satin robe and stepped out of her room to head for

the water closet. In the hallway, she was almost alone.

Still, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she wanted to wash Luc away for

another reason entirely. While it was hardly a secret among the crew that they shared a

bed, she didn’t want to risk running into Javier so soon after coitus.

The animal in him might be able to smell another man on her, and that bothered her

more than she liked.

Airship Seduction

Chapter Three

Javier woke in unfamiliar darkness, his head on someone’s chest, the feeling of a

recent nightmare rolling in his stomach. While he couldn’t quite make out where he

was, he at least knew it was a full moon tonight, so thank God he’d at least fallen asleep

out of the moonlight.

But a foreign pressure on his arm reminded him of the nightmare. A beautiful

black-haired Gypsy girl had unmasked her pretense in front of the pack, clapped a

piece of silver on his arm, and prevented his shifting. Surely, it was a nightmare.

One touch to his left forearm revealed the metal cuff that warmed his skin. Javier

pulled his arm to assure he had not been bound, and when it moved without fetter, the

cold realization of reality swept over him.

He’d not dreamt of a menace chasing them, his pack falling around him one by one,

then abandoning him as he followed this mysterious woman. The soft pressure of

Sergio’s rib cage against his face confirmed it. Though he had not yet cooled in death,

that would be short hours away, and all that Javier thought was a dream would prove

to be true. He was alone, his last remaining brother dead beneath him, on some devil

ship that the Gypsy had brought him to just before he’d passed out in his grief.

Javier lifted his head as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He couldn’t see much, but he

could make out stacked crates against the far wall, and a bit of an open space around

them. He and Sergio lay against a wall whose twin he could not make out. This must be

the hold of the ship.

“Hello?” he called across the space, assuming that if anyone lay in wait for him,

they would at least speak English as the woman had.

No one answered.
Custom demanded that he remain with Sergio’s body until they could burn him, a

constant companion to his wolf spirit. But Javier wanted answers, and he wanted them

now.

He kissed Sergio’s lips, saying a short prayer over his spirit, and crossed himself,

then the boy. Standing on shaky legs, he felt his way along the wall until he came to a

door. Logic said there would be at least two entrances to the room. The one closest to

him would be the one he’d entered through.

He knew what lay that way.
So instead, he felt his way along the rest of that wall, counting his paces until he

reached the corner of the room. In his mind, he mapped the size and shape of the hold

as he felt the wall, needing to detour around crates.

Camryn Rhys

Suddenly, the door he’d already passed opened. Javier froze. A moment later, a soft

light entered the room, then expanded to consume the space.

“Merde!” a male voice boomed. “There is only the body.”
Another voice, a somewhat familiar one, returned, “He cannot have gone far. I’ll get

Sacha.”

“Wait,” said the first voice. “Luc said you know him. Perhaps he is even still in this

room, listening.”

“Javier Vargas!” The second voice Javier knew from somewhere. It could not be one

of his cuadrilla. But he knew it. “Javier. You must show yourself.”

“He is not here.”
“Stop, André. He is here. He would not leave Sergio’s body.” A pause, footsteps

approached. The two men fanned out into the room. “Javier, come out. It is Vidal

Herrera of the Cordova cuadrilla.”

Yes, this was the voice. The alpha of their brother pack. The place where Mira had

disappeared. Vidal had come to him personally to tell the story of her loss. Anger

burned in his throat.

“If this is Vidal, then you will know of the last time we met,” Javier growled, feeling

the wolf stir. It pushed at his insides, like a flower pushed at the soil when it first

awoke. But it did not break.

There was silence, and the footfalls ended. “Yes, brother. That was unfortunate.

And you may still harbor some anger toward me, but I promise you, we did everything

we could to save Mira from Disraeli’s men.”

Javier pressed his hands against the crate that hid him, feeling the coarse

woodgrain threaten to snag his skin. While he wanted to push against Vidal’s words, he

knew that the man was at least sincere. He remembered that much from their last

meeting.

“I am coming out,” warned Javier. “Don’t shoot me.”
“We’re not armed, Javier.”
When he stepped out into the dark edge of the gaslight, Javier saw Vidal’s stocky

frame next to the tall, lanky Frenchman who’d spoken first. He was right that neither of

them were armed with weapons, but Vidal was a powerful were, and the Frenchman

had a quiet power he couldn’t place. Something unnatural gleamed in his black eyes.

“I would know who you are, Frenchman.”
“André Perrin.” The brown head bowed low in a flourish only a true Frenchman

could capture with that kind of elegance and complete foppery. “In your service, no?”

“It is ‘at your service’, André. And don’t be so dramatic.”
“He is the alpha leader, is he not?” André’s eyebrow rose while he was still in the

midst of his bow.

Airship Seduction

“Please stand, André Perrin.” Javier stepped closer, though still not in hand-

shaking distance. “And Vidal. I am unarmed as well.”

“You’re among friends.” Vidal crossed the space between them. It wasn’t until his

hand moved that Javier noticed the silver cuff on his left arm that matched his. The

Prata Mudanca, she’d called it.

Vidal offered his right arm, and Javier paused before grasping it, considering one

last time that this man had once been the target of his hatred. But trust seemed the only

option.

He certainly didn’t want to make enemies in such small quarters. Not yet, anyway.
“You’ve met Sacha, I assume,” André said.
Sacha. That was the Gypsy beauty’s name. Javier nodded.
They reached Sergio’s body and a wave of nausea curled through Javier’s stomach.

The events of the previous night flew through his thoughts, ending with the perfect

memory of Sergio falling behind him. Taking the arrow meant for him, no doubt.

“Where are we sailing?”
André and Vidal traded another glance. “You tell him, Vidal. It might be easier

coming from you.”

The short man breathed and pulled Javier down with him, so they knelt at Sergio’s

side. “We’re not sailing anywhere.”

“But I can feel the unsteadiness of the ocean below us.”
Vidal’s thin lips stretched into a smile. “Yes, the ocean is below us. At times.” He

put a thick hand on Javier’s shoulder. “We’re not on the water, brother. We’re in the

air.”

“The air?” The nausea returned. He remembered Sacha’s laughter and talk of

balloons and flying. He hadn’t thought to take her seriously when he saw the

seaworthy vessel they boarded the previous night.

Airships weren’t made of wood. Or built for the water. This was obviously both.

Some magic kept them in motion, and he only hoped it wasn’t black magic.

“And where are we docking?” Javier asked.
André clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re one open-minded man. It took me

much longer to accept this was the state of things. Vidal had to take me to the helm

personally, so I could see the ocean below.”

“There’s a place to see this?”
Vidal grinned and looked up at André, his dark skin crinkling in his laughter.

“We’ll take you. It is like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

Javier gazed down at Sergio’s corpse before them. “If men can become wolves and

women can read minds, then nothing is beyond the realm of possibility.”

“Not even a ship powered by water that flies above the birds,” Vidal wondered.
“And the bats,” added André. “Don’t forget the bats.”

Camryn Rhys

“You are a vampire then?”
André’s heavily lined face rippled into a wistful half-smile. “I am many things.” For

the first time, Javier realized how much older this Frenchman was than either him or

Vidal. Not only did he have the ageless air about him, but he spoke with the most

contemporary cadence of the France Javier had visited. His light-brown hair, upon

further inspection, was dotted with gray. His face, at first appearing youthful, was

heavily lined, if a bit pale. Not as pale as the vampires Javier had met in the dark alleys

of Barcelona, and nowhere near as fierce. André appeared civilized, and perhaps a bit

too well-bred for the heavy woolen pants and cotton shirt that hung on his lanky frame.

“And this Sacha you spoke of. The woman who brought us here.” Javier stopped,

closing his eyes and murmuring a prayer for Sergio. “Who brought me here.”

Vidal nodded. “Sacha Camomescro. She is the Crusader.”
“From the legends?”
“Sí.”
Javier swore in Spanish, forgetting his French friend. “Holy Mother of Jesus.”

Friend. Fifteen minutes in the man’s company and he was already calling André friend.

How his wolf brothers would chastise him.

A were has no friends but his wolf brethren. Only they know the sting of the change, the

sweat of the wolf’s possession. Only they… But they were no longer with him. A were alone.

He had never heard of such a thing.

* * * * *

Sacha paused before opening the door to the Harbinger’s hold. She was still unsure

whether this wolf could read her thoughts, and must steel herself against him, in case

he was also an Empath.

She stretched her limbs which were encased again in their Resistance regalia. The

cool-blue, short dress looked just as silly today as it always did over her tight black

trousers, and she longed for the feminine length of her old dresses. Just for once, she

wanted to be a lady among men instead of a warrior. But Luc was right. These dresses

made the Resistance women understand their role among their male counterparts. They

were at once women and men. The soft, emotional and empathetic along with the hard,

strong and vicious.

But when she remembered her moments with Luc in her bed, he didn’t seem to see

any maleness in her. He saw softness and curves. And his dead wife. Still, woman.

Of course, when he fought at her side, he needed to know she could call up the

ferocious warrior within. And she could. He trusted that. Perhaps her half-male

costume helped him understand that. Perhaps it just made her look like an idiot.

Yet she longed to just wear a real dress for once.
The cool metal of the door handle shifted her back to reality. Best not to be thinking

of Luc when she met Javier again.

Airship Seduction

She urged the door open. The hold was lit, but empty. The spot near the wall where

Javier had deposited his companion, vacant. She remembered his heaving shoulders as

he sobbed. Perhaps the Cordovan alpha had offered his own quarters as a grieving

place.

Sacha pushed at the room with her mind, checking for signs of life, and finding

none. So she pressed further. Only familiar passengers on the other side of the wall.

Without hesitation, she picked up the snuffer and put out the lamp. Must save all

the fuel they could. They would not be back to Africa for a good month yet, and they

could not afford to restock the ship before then.

Not with Disraeli’s assassins on their tail, so close.
She stalked to the other end of the room and out the hold, into the corridor where

Vidal’s quarters were. When she reached his door, she knocked three times and the

door opened immediately.

The faces of the Cordovans were still dark from their own grief. They’d been

allowed the time to burn their dead once they reached Barcelona, and the room reeked

of the oppressive sadness of responsibility.

“I need to speak with Vidal.”
“He’s not here,” one of the men answered, turning back to the room. He said

something in Spanish, and she realized, at the unfamiliar words, that she’d left her

linguistor in her cabin.

“Do you know where he is?”
“The last we saw him was when you came for him.”
She paused. That had been hours ago. If Javier and the wolf corpse were missing

from the hold, and Vidal had not been seen in hours, where in the name of everything

holy could they be?

Surely they wouldn’t have gone to André’s quarters. The French vampires were

notoriously snobbish when it came to the others. They would occasionally tolerate

Sacha’s presence because she was a demon, but apart from André, they mostly kept to

themselves and snubbed the other passengers.

Taking a werewolf corpse into a den of vampires was just out of the question.
Surely Javier would know…they wouldn’t hesitate to feed on a dead were. Without

thanking the Cordovan, she bolted for the vampires’ cabin.

She nearly ran over Luc when she turned the last corner. He grabbed her to prevent

her falling, and she caught a momentary glimpse of fear before his mind went blank

again. His mind was always blank, except when they were alone.

“Luc! What in the blazes—”
He stopped her. “Have you seen André?”
“I was just going to look for him. Why?”
“It would appear that he and Vidal are missing with the werewolf corpse.”

Camryn Rhys

A missing corpse. What a problem to have. Why couldn’t she just be like normal

women who had a husband and children and laundry and cooking? Of course, the fact

that she was a demon had nothing to do with it. She could easily conceal herself among

the humans, as she had for most of her life before The Resistance found her.

While she was contemplating a quiet life as a farmer’s wife, Luc shook her. And

back to the sad reality.

“Sachela!”
“Please refrain from using that name in public, Luc. And may I remind you? The

Spanish mourning custom is not like yours. Surely, they’ve found a quiet place to sit

with him as he grieves.”

“Did you check with the Cordovans?”
“Yes, and he wasn’t there, but I’m sure he’s somewhere.”
“Of course he’s somewhere! But we need to know where that somewhere is.”
Sacha contemplated the ship’s anatomy. She’d been to the hold and come forward.

Luc had been at the helm and come back. They’d met practically in the middle. The

only place she hadn’t been was…the mechanical level.

They both must have come to the same conclusion at once because they turned in

tandem and ran for the stairs that led into the hot underbelly of the airship. The place

where the furnace waited.

The closer they got to the furnace, the hotter the air became, and the more profusely

the sweat poured down her back, her face, her exposed cleavage. By the time she

reached the door to the furnace room, every inch of her skin was slick.

Sacha pulled the door open and a fresh wave of heat pelted her. At her side, Luc

was eerily dry. She’d always assumed he was human, but even a part-human would

have been drenched at this temperature. This was why only the drakienen worked the

furnace room. The temperatures necessary to heat the water-fuel would rob any part-

human of all their body’s water in a matter of hours, but the men who turned to

dragons could stand inside the furnace and not be burned.

He pushed past her, into the furnace room, where the door to the fire lay, and she

followed with tired steps. At the end of the room, three men stood in front of Gilles, one

of the drakienen who worked the furnace. A tall, thin man on one end, a short, stocky

man on the other, and the raw power of Javier’s physique in the middle, holding a limp

body in his arms.

If it was possible, when Javier turned to behold her, the heat pressed in on her even

more. Between the anger and the lust that flamed in his eyes, she’d rather work the

furnace room for a year than be caught in that gaze for long.

Either one would likely kill her.

“He wishes to prevent my burning Sergio’s body.”

Airship Seduction

Javier couldn’t control his anger at the large, scaly man any more than he could

control the sudden wave of desire that took him when he saw Sacha enter the

sweltering room, her skin damp, her breasts heaving. It was as though she intended to

plague him.

Perhaps she did.
“You cannot throw him into the furnace,” the drakien repeated. “We have to be very

careful about the material that goes in.”

“He’s right.” The man at Sacha’s side chimed in, making the anger boil in Javier’s

belly again. “The temperature is very carefully controlled, Javier.”

How did this blond intruder know his name? Did everyone on this blasted ship

know who he was? God in heaven, he just wanted to go back to Barcelona. If he was

going to be alone, at least he could be alone in familiar surroundings.

“I don’t care about the temperature of this ship.” He thrust Sergio’s body toward

Sacha. “His spirit will be lost if we do not burn his body before dark falls.”

The blond man took a step toward him and Javier hunched over Sergio’s body,

pulling it back into his chest like a baby. Sacha reached for the man’s arm, and held

him.

So this was her husband? They touched like lovers.
“Don’t advance on him, Luc. He’s still unsure of us.”
The woman could, indeed, read minds. Of course, he’d assumed she was an Empatia

last night, but he knew it now. That had been his very thought.

“I must burn his body before dark falls!”
Sacha pulled Luc back and walked toward Javier. Her steps were graceful and her

face earnest. She’d donned her Resistance uniform again, although it was not the same

one she wore last night. This one was clean and smelled of flowers. He could smell her

sweat, new on clean skin, and her desire, budding inside her. Perhaps she did not even

know it. It had not been on her when she entered.

He shook the scent off. Vixen, pressing her sex on him when he had a duty to his

brother wolf. Sergio’s very spirit was at stake.

Sacha finally stopped, just inches from Sergio’s body. She opened her fingers wide

and touched the Prata on his arm. “Remember, I am a friend.”

He flinched, but allowed her touch to remain. “I must—”
“We will make a way for you to prepare and burn his body. But it cannot be this

way.” She grasped his arm with the entire warmth of her hand now. It both calmed and

excited him. But her words harnessed his anger.

“The furnace is temperamental,” Luc explained. “If it is just a few degrees cooler

than it needs to be, it will not heat the water-fuel to the right temperature, and we could

fall from the sky.”

Camryn Rhys

“When you put it in those words, I am convinced.” Javier stepped toward Sacha,

away from the hulking scaled man, the other were, and the vampire. “I did not mean to

cause a commotion, but our customs must be observed.”

“We will make an unscheduled landing this afternoon,” Luc said. “Near Avignon,

and before sunset. I promise.”

“Luc is the captain of the ship,” Sacha explained, backing up with Javier as he

advanced. The pressure in his chest that the anger had created abated, and he realized

he was being led out of the room.

Javier stopped, turned back to the large, scaly man, and knit his brow. “I apologize.

My intention was not to intimidate you.”

A red bloom furrowed along the scales in the man’s forehead and spread down his

long face. The two long nostrils in his wide nose flared. “You could never intimidate

me, half-breed. I am a demon.”

Javier paused and a slow, rueful smile spread across his face. “Nothing can stand in

the way of an alpha werewolf protecting his family.” He turned back to Sacha and

flicked his gaze between her and the inhuman thing behind her. “Not even a demon.”

Sacha’s slightly dimpled chin dipped, her gaze narrowing at something over his

shoulder, undoubtedly the scaly man’s anger. She must carry much power to be able to

silence a drakien with a flick of her eyes.

And not just magic, but authority. She carried it well.

Airship Seduction

Chapter Four

Sacha silently cursed herself for leaving the linguistor in her room as she followed

Javier and Vidal through the ship’s corridors. Not knowing what they were saying put

her at a strategic disadvantage.

Not being able to translate Javier’s thoughts meant she had no idea if the heated

looks he gave her were because of the growing intensity between them, or the fact he

might smell Luc on her.

“Your captain promised to dock in Avignon today.” Javier’s voice, from behind her,

felt too much like an illicit caress—pliant, but with an undercurrent of danger, as

though there would be hell to pay if it went astray.

“He’s not my captain,” she insisted.
“But he is the captain of this ship.”
“Well, yes.”
“And he did promise to dock in Avignon today.”
“Near Avignon,” André piped up, probably as much to correct their pronunciation

as their geography. Among his other snobberies, he hated to hear the French language

mispronounced. They spent three days between Nice and Marseille having André at

their heels continuously shouting, “no ‘ch’, there is no bloody ‘ch’ in Nice,” and then

swearing profusely in French. She’d had enough.

“Yes, André. We all butcher your beloved Francais. And if you’ll be so kind, I’m

sure your little cult of bloodsuckers could use some babysitting before the rest of the

pixies go missing.” Sacha pointed to her right at the corridor juncture.

“I only meant—” André tried to protest. “And I take offense to the pixie comment.”
“Now, André.”
The tall vampire took the right corridor, around the hold, muttering to himself in

French. For once, Sacha was glad she had left her linguistor in her room. When André

was in a tiff, he was impossible to tolerate. His thoughts shouted, as though he knew

she couldn’t escape them if he applied enough force.

She and the two werewolves—well, three werewolves—took the left fork, heading

for Vidal’s rooms. “We’ll probably dock in the Rhone, north of the city.”

“It will need to be remote.” Vidal’s voice seemed easier, more free, than Javier’s. No

point trying to read their minds, because their thoughts would be in Spanish anyway.

And turning to face Javier would put her at risk of getting caught in his gaze again.

Potentially, also, in the pictures of his mind.

“For the burning?”

Camryn Rhys

“Yes, for the burning.” Javier’s voice shook. “And I must be alone.”
“No,” said Vidal. “My brothers and I will be with you. Just as it is ordered. The

whole pack will be present.”

Javier was resolute. “They are not my brothers.”
They reached the door to Vidal’s quarters, and Sacha could hear the men behind it

still wailing in the pathetic, strained voices of the wolves stuck in human form. But

because they couldn’t afford twenty werewolves running around the ship during the

full moon, each one wore the Prata. Most of her crew was not magical, although most

magical creatures could not stand up to an enraged lobo on their best day.

Plus, everyone was hurting. Everyone had lost someone to the assassins. In the last

month, her airship had gone from being a secret place to a highly anticipated means of

salvation. It heaved in grief like one giant, sobbing shoulder. The pain was

overwhelming.

And Sacha felt all of it.
But the flamboyant release of the Spaniard weres was too much for her to handle for

long. They were too open and free with their emotions. Overwhelming.

“Will you take Sergio’s… Vidal, will you take Sergio with you so I may speak with

Sacha for a moment alone?” Javier’s quavering request sent chills up her spine. The

word alone was enough to make her bolt from her steadfast spot. Only her legs were

frozen.

Vidal accepted Sergio from Javier’s bulging arms and rapped on the door with his

foot. For the first time, Sacha noticed the tattoos on the two alpha’s arms were not the

same. She assumed they would be some kind of rite of passage, and would be identical.

But they were completely different.

Vidal’s were larger, more colorful, almost what one would call flowery, except they

didn’t look out of place on this proud, masculine shoulder. Javier’s were completely

black, with his camel-colored skin in the gaps where a picture on a page might have

been white. The stark contrast of the black against his skin made her curious how the

tattoos would feel under her fingertips. They almost appeared to have texture.

Or perhaps they would feel like his skin. Her mouth opened at the thought of

tracing her fingers along their edges. She glanced at Javier, but Sergio took his full

attention and she heaved a sigh of relief.

When the door opened, the pained eyes of the other weres glared back at her, then

softened. “Hello, Sacha,” one of them said. She nodded her response.

“Should we begin to prepare him?” Vidal asked, keeping his eyes on Sergio’s face.

Javier considered for a moment.

“I would be honored if you would help me prepare him.”
Vidal’s head dipped and he carried Sergio’s limp body into the room. When the

door closed, Javier pressed a hand into the frame and stood in silence. His wide

shoulders dropped. She couldn’t help the course of her eyes down his muscled back,

Airship Seduction

newly clad in the white cotton fabric they provided the passengers, which clung to the

contours of his body tighter than her imagination.

“I have many questions, señora.”
“Señorita,” she corrected.
Javier turned, shock in his eyes. “But the man, your captain. Luc, you called him.

He is not your husband?”

So he had picked up on it.
“He has been my friend since childhood. His wife was like my own sister.” No lies,

no admissions. She turned, feeling crowded out by the sudden spike of emotion coming

from Vidal’s quarters. “Please, walk with me. I cannot stand near this door any longer.”

Javier followed, his steps longer and heavier than hers. “What is it?”
“Their pain. It’s going to swallow me.” She spoke before thinking, and could hear

his interested murmur. She rolled her eyes. “Just come with me. We can talk in private

elsewhere.”

He grasped her arm and the heat of his touch spiraled through her. “We can speak

here, can’t we?”

She pressed outward, sensing those in the immediate area, then turned to him. His

face, lined with concern, opened something inside her, as certainly as if he’d released a

latch and pulled at the door around her heart.

“We can speak here.” She looked down the corridor, toward the were quarters. “For

now.”

“I must know where you are taking me.” He offered her the arm encased in the

Prata. “I’ve taken much on faith, señora.” His mouth was still open on the last syllable as

he corrected himself. “Señorita.”

There was more promise in that word than she hoped he intended. Sacha reined in

her desire to look at his thoughts. What she could understand, he’d have put there for

her. She had no doubts by now that he knew she was an Empath, or Empatia, as he

would say it. In that deep, rich, sexy voice of his…

Stop, Sacha. Just stop.
“Shall I repeat my question?” His eyes, inscrutable, slowly covered the planes of her

face. She could feel his gaze on her cheeks, her lips, her neck. What was he looking for?

“You didn’t ask a question,” she spat. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
“Are you only a little idiot, then, señorita?” He toyed with her. The nerve of the

man. The wolf. The wolf-man. What have you.

She flexed her fingers at her sides and exhaled sharply, ending with a saccharine

smile. “We are taking you, sir, to the Ivory Coast.”

As though that settled it, she twisted toward the main deck and stormed away.
Javier, of course, followed.

Camryn Rhys

He didn’t need to be an Empath to see the flush in her cheeks and the crinkle of her

mouth when she looked into his eyes. Her shallow, quick breaths. She baited him.

And he liked it.
She liked it too, although he might be more aware of his blood pumping and his

pulse rising than she was. Years of the change made him hypersensitive to his own

body.

It was the years of abstinence that made him hypersensitive to hers.
The penis was truly an amazing creature. No matter if danger lurked or grief stung,

give it a perky pair of tits and the smell of arousal, and it would stand to attention better

than the most seasoned soldier.

It also made for uncomfortable walking when the object of desire turned and ran

for parts unknown. Easier, of course, if she would stay still for the fucking. Also more

complicated, and probably not in good taste.

Still, it made chasing after her a tasty bit of torture.
“You must stop, señorita. I have not been satisfied.”
That made her stop. And twitch. Of course, he could have said it another way, but it

likely would have resulted in her continuing to run. He’d learned a bit about her in

their short time together. She liked a challenge.

The ridiculous outfit she wore covered little of her assets, and when she heaved her

chest like that, her breasts straining against the copper plate that covered her vital

organs, it excited his imagination even more.

He pictured himself covering the ten steps between them in quick succession,

pulling the plate from her body, the leather straps that held it in place snapping. Then,

he would scoop those beautiful breasts from their cage and feast on them. As soon as

the quick image flitted into his thoughts, he saw streaks of red brush across her

alabaster skin. She was reading his thoughts again. And, it would seem, enjoying them

right along with him.

Naughty girl.
Part of him wanted to smile, but a bigger part knew that if she was off-guard this

way, he might be able to get the information out of her she so vigilantly protected.

“I demand to know where we are going and why.” His chest tightened. “My

decision to follow you cost me more than I care to remember. I deserve your

indulgence, señorita.”

Her tense face relaxed into straight resignation, and she closed her eyes, exhaling a

long breath as she had before. She must be reading the area. “It’s not safe here.” With a

quick glance to her right, she nodded. “We can go to my quarters. There are…barriers…

Well, we can have privacy there.”

Instead of carrying on down the corridor, she disappeared down one of the

tributaries. Javier was lost already. He needed the sun, the stars. This enclosed space

with no view of the outside left him centerless.

Airship Seduction

He followed her through another set of hallways. They turned one last corner and

came to a dead end with a massive clock filling the entire width of the corridor. Her

hand disappeared inside the folds of her dress and returned with the dim light glinting

off a golden key.

There didn’t appear to be a lock in sight, or a handle to turn, but then again, as he

studied the key more closely, it was not really a key at all. The end that protruded from

her hand was straight, with a tiny point at the end. He focused in on the point and saw

an intricate little extension with three prongs. Each prong had a hook that faced in a

different direction.

Sacha inserted the key into a small hole below the immense face of the clock. Javier

hadn’t even seen the hole until the key punctured its opening. She twisted the key three

times until a loud click rang through the tiny space.

The clock face froze for a moment and from behind the body, another click

sounded. When the gears of the timepiece started to turn again, the whole body swung

toward Sacha.

The moving block of wood and gear opened to reveal black space behind. This

would be her quarters, then? How interesting that she chose to so securely lock herself

away from everyone. The way he’d been feeling the last several hours, he could

understand the urge.

He glanced at the clock again as it swung past his face, then felt for his own pocket

watch. But the new clothing had no pockets. He’d left the watch in the stockroom, along

with the tattered rags of his old clothing. The only thing he hadn’t been able to remove

was the silver thing that clung to the skin of his arm.

“Is that the correct time?” The clock read 13:38. Surely, it couldn’t be that late in the

day already. That would make it more than twelve hours since he’d left Barcelona. And

a shorter time before sunrise.

Sacha smiled over her shoulder. “Its purpose is not to tell time.” She disappeared

into the black space behind the clock. As the giant instrument started to swing back,

Javier darted into the black as well.

“Before I tell you anything,” she was saying, “I need to ask you a few questions.”
Another door opened and the blackness disappeared as she struck a match. The

light wavered until she lit the lamp, then it grew to fill the room. A messy bed was built

into the far wall, and a chair was near the entrance by the small table that housed the

lamp. At one end of the bed, a cloaked room, no doubt where she kept her clothing.

Beside that, a desk littered with papers and inkwells, sidled up to a giant bookcase.

Sacha crossed to the desk and picked up a piece of curved metal with what looked

like a latch on the end. She placed it over her left ear, and he was surprised that the

latch clamped onto the base of her neck, like a river leech. A tiny grimace crossed her

pretty features, then she settled those chocolate eyes on him.

“I’m going to ask you three questions, and I want you to answer me as honestly as

you can.” She sat on the bed and gestured to the chair. “Please sit down.”

Camryn Rhys

He obliged, trying his best to clear his mind.
“Who are you?”
“I am Javier Vargas, alpha leader of—”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Why did you stop?”
He remembered the moment in the streets of Barcelona when his brothers had

fallen, white dust overhead and strained human voices hiding wolf spirits. When he

became a leader of nothing.

“I am not the leader of the Avinguda werewolves any longer.”
Sadness creased her face, as it did his heart. She looked at the floor, her chest rising

again. From this angle, he had too nice a view of her cleavage. Perhaps she could sit up

so he wouldn’t be tempted to launch onto the bed and—

She sat up.
A slow smile spread across his lips. Of course. “If you’re going to read my mind,

señorita, why must you ask me these questions?”

She flushed, setting her lips into a tight line. “Your answers are as important as

your thoughts.” She searched his face. “I need to know what you wish me to believe, in

addition to the truth. It’s the only way I will know if I can trust you or not.”

His voice low, he said, “You can trust me.”
One corner of her mouth turned up. “Everyone thinks they can be trusted.” It

turned back down. “Very few can.”

“I understand.” He thought of Rico, of Tomas. Their dark faces flashed through his

thoughts one by painful one.

“I see that you do. I’m going to ask you who you are again. Please answer as

though last night had never happened.”

“I am Javier Vargas, alpha werewolf of the Avinguda.”
“And your family?”
He thought first of Sergio, then Mira. It was instinctual. Although they were not his

blood family, they were his family.

“Sergio? The boy was your blood brother?”
“He is…was my late wife’s brother.”
“Mira?”
Mira’s honey-colored hair and hazel eyes, her long nose and thin lips pressed into

his memory. He saw them making love—skin and wet and almost changing.

Remembered gazing into her face for the last time and coming inside her. If it hadn’t

been his last memory of her, he would have blocked it out.

He felt suddenly guilty. Of course, she had seen the memory. Her face did not color

this time, but perhaps she was prepared for it. Perhaps all men thought of their women

in the throes of passion. And if they did not, they should. In her lover’s arms, a woman

was most beautiful.

Airship Seduction

“I apologize.” He wanted to reach across the space, to help her feel his

embarrassment. “That was the last time I saw her.”

“That was an enchanting thought.” Her eyes fluttered, then diverted. “About a

woman being beautiful in the arms of her lover.”

“You do speak Spanish, then?”
She shook her head. The long strands came loose from her shoulders and fell

around her neck. He realized for the first time that she unbound her hair here. It was

intoxicating.

Sacha pointed to the contraption on her ear. “This is called a linguistor. It translates

thoughts and words for me.” She lifted the hair from her neck and turned so he could

see the metal contraption. “Say something in Spanish.”

“Tú es hermosa.”
An arm on the little mechanical device raised and clicked back down as he spoke.

She blushed before he could draw a breath. This machine was fast.

“Where did you get this?”
“Luc procured it from one of his contacts in Africa.”
He relaxed into his Spanish. “How about something more complicated? What if I

were to tell you that the assassin who came to kill us yesterday shares with you an

uncanny ability to predict the behavior of others?”

“It translates as you speak, Javier. I can understand you as quickly as you can utter

the words. It happens inside my brain, as though I am hearing you in English.” She

brushed the device with the hand that hovered above it, holding her hair away, then the

flash of a grimace marred her features for a moment. “The only way I can tell if you’re

really speaking Spanish is by watching your lips.”

“That is how you can read my Spanish thoughts as well?”
She nodded and lowered her hair. “And any other language.”
“But you were not wearing it this morning?”
“I forgot.” In a self-conscious gesture, she reached for the ear again, freezing her

hand just before she touched it. “Luc likes for me to wear it at all times. But sometimes I

just want people to have their privacy.”

He extended his hand, as though he meant to reach across and touch her ear

himself. The movement of her hand so often to the side of her face made him curious.

“Does this machine hurt you, Sacha?”

With a tight smile, she looked away. “No more than necessary.”
“No pain is necessary.”
She resumed her steady perusal of his face. “Why are you here?”
“You’re going to tell me that, I believe.”
“I mean, why did you come with me?”

Camryn Rhys

He saw again the picture of her laid naked before him, and his tasting her. It made

his blood warm, as it must hers. “Surely, you’ll not ask me to divulge that, even if you

can read my mind.”

“So you followed me because you want to see me naked?”
“I followed you because you intrigued me.”
She narrowed her eyes and focused in on his. As tempted as he was to let his

fantasies run loose in his mind to teach her a lesson for playing around in his head, he

reined it in.

“Last question. Do you now, or have you ever worked for Gladstone, Lanza,

Willhelm, Thiers, Pasha, Leopold II, Sagasta or Christian of Denmark?”

With each name she recited, the tension escalated inside his chest. The only one

he’d ever seen in person was Praxedes Sagasta, a Spanish state leader who lived in

Barcelona. But these men were known throughout the werewolves of Spain as Los

Malvados. In their own circles, they preferred Europe for Progress, or The E.P. if you

worked for them. But The Evil Ones was a more accurate title.

“I have never. I do not. I would never. Does that answer your question?”

Sacha was convinced. The bite of his last words—he’d practically growled at her.

His hatred for Sagasta was deep, and she couldn’t quite make out all the images that

had flashed in his mind. But none of them were favorable, and even the most unskilled

human reader could pick up the anger he radiated.

Part of her was relieved. Even the vampires hadn’t been able to pass her inquest

without reserve. Vidal had come close, as had the dragon leader, and even the pixie

princess. But none of them were as completely what they claimed to be as Javier Vargas.

And yet. Much as she should be fully relieved, she wasn’t sure she’d ever met a

man as completely what he claimed to be as Javier Vargas. And that frightened her. No,

to be more precise, his unreserved interest frightened her, his blatant honesty unnerved

her. A man like him had no cross-purposes.

“I believe you, I do. But understand, I needed to be sure that I could count on you

not to spread this information around the ship.”

He gestured wide, the muscles rippling up his arms. “Who will I tell?”
“Vidal?”
“I owe him nothing.”
“Yes, well, he is a were, like you.”
A muscle tensed in his temple and he took a deep breath, shaking his head. “There

are no more like me, madam.”

“You can call me Sacha.”

Airship Seduction

“Very well, Sacha. Will you be so good as to tell me what the bloody hell is going

on around here? And give me a good reason why I should stay in this Godforsaken

contraption you’ve built for yourself.”

His words stung, and she could see he intended that. Her comparison to Vidal was

not flattering, apparently. His mind recoiled from it, and the grief returned, filling not

only his memories, but the lines of his face.

“I did not build this ship,” she said, tightly. “My father did. And it’s not

Godforsaken just because it runs on magic.”

“It runs on magic?”
“That’s beside the point, Javier. The point is, you want to know why you’re here.

And I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“According to whom?”
Sacha brushed her dark hair away from her face, wishing she’d put it up that

morning after her bath like she’d planned. “Luc.”

“Your friend, the captain.”
“He is our link to the Resistance.”
Javier’s dark eyes narrowed on her. A brief flash of distrust surrounded Luc’s face

in his mind. “I don’t trust him.”

“I know that.”
He shook his head. “Of course, you can read my thoughts. Why do I even speak in

your presence?”

His sudden anger pricked her senses. The urge to go to him, to comfort him, grew

with each passing second. She stood and walked to the desk, instead, trying to keep

those thoughts from her mind. “I’m sorry. I can control it if I try.”

“It unnerves me.” His eyes swept her up and down. “Among other things about

you, Sacha.”

She didn’t need to read minds to pick up the sexual innuendo in his words, the

deep tenor of his voice, its gravelly execution. He exuded desire. She wanted to gratify

that desire in the odd moments. The even moments, she had a handle on herself.

Who was she trying to fool? The even moments, she wanted him just as much, only

she buried it.

“I will try not to read your mind.” She gestured to him. “If you’ll come to the desk, I

can show you as much as you can know. But this must stay between us.”

His rise out of the chair was languid, not at all the quick movement she expected.

He joined her, careful to stand as far from her as possible while still maintaining a view

of the desktop.

The map Luc had given her sprawled atop the wooden desktop, a rough sheet of

thick paper hand-copied by a seer in the Resistance. It showed a rough outline of the

Camryn Rhys

countries involved in Europe for Progress, which was nearly all of it. Bright pockets of

red dotted the open space of each country.

In these pockets were tiny drawings. Some of wolves that stood on two legs, some

of bats, some of dragons, men with wings, gargoyles, giants, dwarves, trees and human-

looking men and women. Each pocket generally contained only one type of drawing,

and some of them were tightly clustered. But there were also large patches of blank

sheet inside countries like Germany, France, Spain and England. They assumed,

because they were uncharted by the seer, there were no creatures. But Sacha had a

feeling there were.

“When Europe for Progress declared its secret war on magic, a seer in the heart of

Africa drew this map, with no guide, and presented it to Alexander Warrick, a

Presbyterian minister living in Kenya. She told him that the governments of Europe

were planning—” This was where the fairy tale became too dark for most.

“Please, continue. I know it is bad.”
She sighed. “What do you know? Nothing. You werewolves have had your nose in

the ground for ten years. It only became important when your own people were

threatened. I’ve been dealing with this…”

It was no use fighting like this. The way his nostrils flared, she knew she’d offended

him without even pushing into his mind.

“It is very bad, Javier.”
His dark head dipped toward the map. With the long first finger of his left hand, he

traced the circle of figures around Barcelona. Only his werewolves.

“It is bad. And if I am to help, I must know.”
“They planned to exterminate all magical creatures.”
Javier sucked in a quick breath, his finger rising from the page as though burned.

“So it was not just the werewolves?”

“It was…it is, all.”
“You know this?”
She hesitated, tempted to reach into his mind again, as she moved her hand to the

edge of the map. Underneath that map was a document she hadn’t even shown to Luc.

A document which could get her hanged, or perhaps even burned at the stake if they

still allowed that in public execution, if anyone in any of the governments knew of her

possession. Even if Javier gave her permission now to enter his thoughts, it would be

useless. It was the first thoughts of a person’s mind that she needed to hear. This not

having access to his first thoughts was unnerving.

She didn’t do trust well. Except with her crew. Even then, not with everything.
“You do not need to show me, but I would know.”
“I know for certain this is true.”
Javier fisted his hands and drew them to his sides, stepping back from her. “We

knew from Mir…from Vidal, and others, that there was an assassin. And then, when

Airship Seduction

they came to us and told us of the Resistance, there were men claiming to be you. We

foolishly believed.”

Sacha reimagined Javier’s memory of his dead wife. The same face she’d seen in the

conjuring orb. She knew of Mira’s death—had heard of its grisly execution from Luc,

who passed it to her from Resistance officials.

His face lined with sadness, Javier backed into the chair again and his head fell into

his hands. Something about the contrast between his hard, masculine body and his

overwhelming, emotional grief called to her.

She knelt beside him and covered one of his hands with hers. “I can’t tell you how

sorry I am. This is why we don’t tell passengers about our plans.”

He dropped his hands into his lap and stared at her with restrained anger, his

brown eyes searching her face. Sacha touched the lines that formed in his frustration

and felt the heat beneath her fingers. Something about him called out to her.

“Because you think knowing will take away your grief, or give you some revenge to

satisfy you.”

A vein beneath her finger pulsed and his response sent a thrill through her body, to

her core. “You think revenge will not satisfy me?”

“There is no revenge, Javier.” She almost felt her own sadness for him, because she

knew that was his desire, as it was everyone’s at first. “We’re running away, not

preparing to fight.”

His gaze clouded as he searched her face. “Why not fight?”
“There is no fighting this war.”
A loud chime sounded, filling the room with its alarm. She turned to the dark

passageway.

“Someone is trying to get in the door without a key,” she said.
Javier jumped to his feet, ready to pounce, but she waved him off.
“It’s probably one of the crew who forgot Luc’s key.” She also waved off his

questioning glare at the statement of Luc’s access to her bedroom. “Let me check who it

is.”

Javier extended his arm, preventing her from entering the dark chamber. “It could

be an enemy, Sacha.”

Something twisted inside her at his action. “It’s not an enemy.”
“How can you be sure it is a friend?”
She laid a calm hand on his forearm, just below where the Prata heated. “There are

only friends here.”

He slackened under her touch, but the heat remained. She didn’t remember the

other Pratae being quite this inflamed all the time. Perhaps his was defective.

Camryn Rhys

Keeping him behind her, Sacha grabbed the lamp and walked into the corridor. The

loud chime sounded again, leaving a ring in her ears long after it silenced. She

depressed the door, which made the clock face swing into the hallway.

When the light from the corridor lamp met the light of hers, Angus Fearchar stood

at the intersection. His red face matched his red eyes and hair.

“Angus? What’s wrong?”
His accent, thicker than usual, caught on the words. “M’lady, we found another

body.”

“Not the werewolf. He was dead when we came on board.”
At Javier’s hasty indrawn breath, she felt the pressure of the air on her ear. The man

was close, and she’d just said precisely the most insensitive thing she could say about

his kinsman.

“No. We havena’ seen any weres.”
“God, not the pixies again.” Sacha handed the lamp back to Javier, who remained

close enough that she could smell the maleness of him, the spicy heat of his skin.

“Angus, I’m going to toss those blasted bat-faced vampires out in mid-air. I don’t think

their Pratae are working—”

“M’lady,” Angus interrupted. His eyes, if possible, reddened to a more streaked,

tearful state. “It’s no’ the pixies. God help us, it’s one of the crew.”

Fuck.
It’s begun.

Airship Seduction

Chapter Five

Raul Morelo stalked the length and breadth of the cage. Well, to be fair, it was as

opulent a prison as he’d ever seen, but a prison it was, nonetheless.

The walls were covered in lush cloth, as was every visible surface, save the table in

the center of the room, and the various metal instruments. Against the wall, near the

door, Raul’s cape hung. The one piece of black in a room of red. It taunted him.

He fisted his right hand and punched the bed again. It bore several prints of his

anger already, though it wouldn’t be long before they’d disappear into the smooth

surface again. He pressed his hands together and felt the cool pressure of his silver

finger against the skin of his right hand.

It had been so long since he’d felt anything with that finger. The two leather straps

that harnessed it to his hand, he could feel. Where there had once been pain, only

calluses remained. It was as much a part of his body as his curse.

Raul fingered the crest at the base of the metal appendage, remembering the man

who’d first put it on him. What he wouldn’t give to see that man again.

He’d love to rip off this silver finger and then tear the man’s throat out.
A tap interrupted his seething rage.
“Stand back, Morelo,” said a familiar, deep voice. Always the same voice, this one.

His captors, if nothing else, were consistent.

Raul acquiesced and the door near his cloak opened, revealing a lanky man with a

great diagonal bald spot running across his head. Mr. Benjamin, whom Raul had not

seen since London nearly a year previous, looked as though he’d lost even more hair in

the ensuing months. Perhaps a bit of weight as well. The man was a disaster.

“Mr. Morelo.” Benjamin nodded, his thin, aristocratic lips barely moving. “I’m

afraid we come to you in dire straits.”

“I don’t appreciate being gagged and blindfolded when pursuing a pack of

werwolves, Benjamin. I work for you. I would have come in when I could.” Raul

clenched his right hand again, this time with slightly less anger. At least having a

human before him meant he would be gone soon.

“I understand you and your men were unable to capture the Gypsy woman again.”
Raul sighed. It had hardly been his fault. “They split up, sir. My men made the split

decision to follow the pack.”

“Your men are not paid to think.” Mr. Benjamin straightened his neck and shook

his head, a tiny and somewhat foppish movement.

Camryn Rhys

“I followed the woman, and the alpha. They made it back to the ship before I could

drop them. But I believe my men got the rest of the pack.”

Benjamin stepped fully into the room, keeping his distance from Raul and coming

to rest in one of the bulky chairs. It couldn’t have been comfortable. The man sank into

it as though drowning. Raul always preferred a nice, hard chair. Good for the posture.

But these rich men and their feathers and down. They’d take any good chair or

chaise, stuff it with an ungodly amount of goose feathers, and cover it in some gaudy

velvet or other. This was, Raul was convinced, why they all had such crooked backs.

“The woman is our primary objective.”
Raul growled, his blood rushing for a moment before he could push the rage back

down. “Why don’t you have your spy kill her then, if you need her so badly?”

“We can’t afford to reveal our asset at this time. It’s too vital to our infiltration of

this rebellion as a grander organization to allow an unmasking just to silence one petty

Gypsy.”

“One petty Gypsy with some kind of flying steam ship who’s managed, so far, to

outwit two assassins and half an army.” Raul smirked self-assuredly.

“Careful, Morelo. You’re one of the assassins she’s outwitted.” Benjamin tapped his

knotted nose and winked. “The last one didn’t fare well after that.”

Raul shifted his weight from side to side, clasping his hands behind his back. “I just

need one more shot at her.”

“That is also what he said.”
“If I can just catch them in Milan—”
Mr. Benjamin raised a thin finger, stopping Raul’s speech. “You’ve been a good

man, Raul. We have no plans to terminate you, yet. But don’t get hasty.” The same

skinny hand snaked into the pocket of his extremely well-tailored suit and emerged

with a folded piece of paper, which he extended to Raul.

“You received another message?”
Benjamin inclined his head and the light caught the glare of his oddly shaped bald

spot. Raul wondered what made hair grow in such a strange pattern. Perhaps if he

could scalp the man and get a look under that skin…maybe he was some kind of

demon.

Of course, he smelled human, but Raul had been fooled by that before.
“You may approach me, Raul. They will only shoot you if you attack.”
Raul looked back to the windows flanking the door. As always, one man stood in

each window, armed with twin revolvers, aimed at his heart no doubt. He plucked the

paper from Benjamin’s outstretched fingers and opened it.

“They’re docking in Avignon?”
Benjamin nodded.
“You’re certain this is correct?”

Airship Seduction

“It came directly from our source on the ship. Apparently, one of the weres you hit

was taken on board.”

Raul’s stomach tightened. “What if they keep the body for more than a day?”
Mr. Benjamin waved a diminutive hand in his direction. “Calm down, my boy.” He

pulled a tiny box from his other pocket. “We have it on good faith that they plan to

burn the body before sundown.”

“As custom dictates.”
“Yes.”
“If they wait for the body to surrender—”
“They will not.”
“I cannot reach Avignon by sunset. We’ll be lucky if we make Torino by the time

they land in Milan. My men will be prepared to leave as soon as I am released.”

Mr. Benjamin opened the tiny box and pulled a substance out with the

extraordinarily long nail of his pinky finger. He put some on the back of his tongue,

then snorted the rest with a dainty sniff.

“We don’t expect you to overtake them in Avignon. I will dispatch one of our local

mages, just in case. But this will give you time to make Milan before them.” He closed

the box and replaced it in his pocket. “On the back of that paper, you’ll find directions

to our man in Milan. He’ll help you sniff out the pack, and you can be waiting for her

when she arrives.”

When Benjamin said the word pack, something in Raul’s stomach puckered. Seeing

the men in Barcelona had been hard enough. He hoped they would clean out the rest of

the weres soon. Too much cannibalism wasn’t good for the soul.

If he still had a soul, that was.
“When I capture her, what would you like me to do with her?”
“The plan had been for you to bring her to London.” A tiny flicker of disgust

wrinkled Mr. Benjamin’s nose. “But some uproar there has forced us to move our

facilities elsewhere.”

“So I should, what? Kill her?”
“Good God, no. We need her.” Mr. Benjamin stood, dusting his pants with

impatient fingers. “When you capture her, you’ll bring her here, and someone will

contact you with further instructions.”

“To Barcelona?”
“To this very room.”
Raul laughed. “But I was blindfolded when brought here. How could I possibly

know how to—”

“Don’t pretend with me, Morelo. The blindfolding was a formality. We both know

you could get back here, even if blindfolded again.” Mr. Benjamin turned for the door.

“You’ll bring her here.”

Camryn Rhys

Pressing his cold finger against his palm, Raul resisted his anger again. There were

few things he hated more than being ordered around. But he had signed on for this.

“Untouched?”
“Oh, we don’t care what you do with her. By all means, satisfy whatever lust you

have for the girl.”

Another growl punctured Raul’s breathing. “I lust after no one.”
“Well, then whatever you were asking. We don’t care what shape she’s in. We just

want her alive.” Benjamin put his hand on the door, then turned. “Of course, we’d like

to have the captain of the ship, and perhaps even one of the alphas. The rest, you know

what to do with.”

“And your spy, of course.”
“Our spy will be long gone before you arrive, Mr. Morelo.” Benjamin tapped the

door three times in quick succession and it opened. “She knows how to handle herself.”

Airship Seduction

Chapter Six

Javier felt out of place following Sacha after such bad news, but to stay in her

quarters alone would have been too much of a temptation. Either he would have fished

through her documents, or he would have taken to smelling her clothes.

Both were requisitely out of the question.
Instead, he extinguished the lamp and returned it to the tiny table near the chair

that smelled of another man—of Luc. For a man whom she would never claim, his smell

was everywhere. And it reeked with a ferocity that made Javier’s nose hairs feel singed.

Yes, he was the ship captain, but what the hell was the man’s scent doing in her

private bedchamber if they were not lovers? And if they were lovers, why could she not

simply own it when he asked? There were certain rules, but these Resistance men and

women were supposed to be above the law, above the government, above even

morality and religion.

Javier crossed himself at the thought. Of course, being a werewolf meant an

acceptance of certain magicks, but his mother had raised a good, God-fearing man who

went to mass every time the doors were open.

Except during the full moon.
Questions about Luc and Sacha plagued him. He smelled no sex on her, but Luc’s

scent was everywhere in her room. At her desk, her bookshelf, the chair. It saturated the

place.

Although why he cared who she spent her time—or her nights—with was beyond

him. He’d known her for less than a full day.

But she intrigued him so. A man could be intrigued by a woman.
Or a werewolf by a demon. However it was made to be.
“I was on my rounds after the noon meal,” Angus was saying. Although to be more

blunt, he was crying. The man was obviously shaken, but there was more than grief at

play here.

“Was Elias with you?” Sacha asked, keeping pace with the rotund Scotsman.
The red head shook. “He’d gone t’the bilge, miss.”
“And is he back yet?”
“’Twas his body we found, miss.”
Sacha pushed out a heavy breath and swore. “Not Elias.”
“Aye. And the body. Well, I’ll not attempt… That is t’say, ye can see.” Angus

stopped in front of a door, attempting to usher them through. “Perhaps I should warn

ye, it is very much like what we expected.”

Camryn Rhys

Sacha swore again. “How could I have missed this?”
Javier glanced between the two, his raven-haired rescuer and her redhead

compatriot. Nothing either of them said made any sense to him. But what he did know

for certain is that there was fresh blood very near. And nearly human. At least half,

from what he could tell.

“I can smell the blood.” Javier stepped in front of Sacha, at her hesitation. “Best let

me go first.”

“You won’t know what to look for,” Sacha insisted.
Javier placed his hand on the wooden wall, shimmying inside the door. Her

infernal dress blocked most of the doorway, even though it was only really half a dress.

The closer he got to the center of the half-lit room, the more the blood smell

overwhelmed his senses.

“Just let me…” Javier trailed off as the scene unfolded before him. Splayed on the

floor, half-propped against the wall, was what remained of young Elias.

He couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, and perhaps even younger,

given the immature musculature of his underdeveloped body. But since a good portion

of his face had been eaten away—or torn away, perhaps—it was hard to get a good

measure of the boy’s age. “Mi Dios.” Javier stifled the urge to recite Catholic prayers.

Behind him, Sacha clambered into the narrow room. It must have been a closet of

some sort at one time, although it was completely devoid of its contents. But the dark

wood from the corridor continued in here, and there were indentations on the floor, as

though something heavy once sat along the near wall.

“God, Angus. You could have warned me it ate away half his face.” Sacha stood at

his shoulder, her hand over her mouth, gulping air as though stifling nausea.

“I told ye it was what your letter promised.” Angus hobbled into the small room.

The three of them crowded into the tiny space with a dead, half-eaten body left Javier

feeling claustrophobic. And oddly hungry.

Over his shoulder, he addressed Angus. “Are you human?”
The old Scotsman harrumphed. “O’course I’m human, y’idiot. You’d’a smelled it

otherwise, yeah?”

“You’re obviously not human,” Javier said to Sacha. “And he was only part

human.” He pointed to the body. “So what’s this other scent in here?” He sniffed again.

It wasn’t werewolf, and it wasn’t Empath. He couldn’t quite place it.

Angus cleared his throat. “The boy is… Er. He was half chaos-demon.”
Javier stepped toward the bloody mess, trying to avoid stepping directly in any

puddles of bodily fluid. No matter what the thing on his arm kept him from doing, it

did not abate his hunger. “That’s not the scent I’ve found. It’s something else.”

Sacha squatted next to him, keeping her knees out of the corpse’s significant radius

of disaster. While most of the body lay propped against the wall, it was badly mauled

Airship Seduction

and pieces of flesh, entrails and brain matter scattered as far as halfway across the

room.

Javier realized that her scrutiny of the body wasn’t about the blood or the flesh.

“Can you read anything from the dead?”

She shook her head. A dark curtain of hair came loose and fell over her shoulder,

obfuscating her face. “His memories were gone long before we arrived.” Sacha stood,

looking back. “Probably before Angus even found him.”

“Is this what you feared would come?” Angus was being deliberately vague, and

Javier couldn’t understand why.

“You can speak freely in front of Javier.” Sacha waved her hand down in his

direction. “He’s an ally.”

Angus eyed Javier with straight suspicion. The human didn’t have the luxury of

Sacha’s sight into his thoughts.

Thank God for that.
He didn’t want anyone seeing his thoughts, except her.

Angus didn’t like Javier, although the blessed man tried to keep it as hidden as

possible. But no one could hide from her.

I don’t trust the man, Angus thought. Sacha nodded at him. It had been a joke

between Angus, Elias and her, that they were the motliest of crews, but no motlier than

need be. Angus distrusted new people, and for good reason.

It seemed that each addition to the crew brought some kind of tumult. When they

landed in Cordova, one of the drakienen had gone missing. The introduction of the

French vampire clan brought several disappearing pixies—which André had attempted

to explain away by saying that pixies often disappeared intentionally and he couldn’t be

held accountable. But that hadn’t been the first, even.

A mermaid had been lost in Nice, and the pixies after that. But before the vampires,

it had been another crew member. Luc’s assistant, the freed succubus slave, had gone

off-ship in Dresden, where they found the first of the drakienen. She never returned. Luc

tried to convince Sacha the girl had gone back to her family, but he had been worried,

even then.

This was, however, the first corpse—besides Sergio—they’d had on board

Harbinger. And because it was a crew member, she was even more certain that this was

what the Good Mother had warned her about.

“The letter I was going to show you in my chambers.” Sacha stepped back to stand

by Angus. “It was from someone we call the Good Mother.”

“She calls herself the Good Mother,” Angus corrected.
Javier snorted, reaching one hand to smooth away a substance on Elias’ lapel. Or

what was left of his lapel, since half his body had quite literally been ripped away.

“People who refuse you their true name hide as much from you as from their enemies.”

Camryn Rhys

He put his fingers to his lips, sniffed them, then tasted them. Whatever had been there,

he spat back on the body, and stood.

“What?” asked Sacha.
“Can you see that blue substance there?” Javier pointed to the lapel, and down the

body, almost exactly along the line of his torn flesh and clothing.

Angus hobbled forward, bent over Javier’s hand, and peered down. “I can see it,

Sacha. Can you see it?”

She hated to admit she could not. The red of the bleeding flesh and the brown of his

clothes were barely distinguishable to her. Empath demons were notoriously color

blind. “I can see something.”

“I forget,” Javier spoke, his lips forming different words than she heard. “You are

color blind, of course. I apologize, my lady.”

She hated not being able to hear his real voice when he spoke in his own language.

Although it was close to his voice, she could now tell the difference. This hollow tone

was not the product of his long throat.

Sacha imagined she could hear the difference now, even with her eyes closed.
“There is a blue substance that I do not recognize, spread along the torn parts of his

flesh, where something has ripped his body from his bone.” Javier gazed at her, his

dark eyes shifting into a silvery tint. “I’m sorry, Sacha. I know you knew this boy, I

don’t mean to give you bad news.”

Angus’ eyes grew into large circles, the whites completely visible. “It’s saliva.”
“Probably.” Javier nodded, clapping the man’s shoulder.
“And from a demon?” Angus wondered.
“That would be my guess, although it’s not one I’ve ever hunted before.”
Sacha snorted. “Since when do werewolves make it a sport to hunt demons?”
Javier’s gaze narrowed, his eyebrows pulling together. “When a demon threatens

us, we do what we have to do. I don’t make a sport of it, but I protect my own.”

A tiny thrill pulsed up her spine, and then down into the low center of her belly. He

had such a tight leash on himself, if not always on his thoughts. What would it be like to

break that leash?

Javier was unlike any werewolf she’d encountered before. Yes, they were clannish,

like so many demons and creatures had to be, but their closed borders only applied to

intruders. With their thoughts, and their outward appearance, they were always so

carnal. Some of the Cordovans came straight on to her when she would enter their

chamber.

Well, when they weren’t grieving.
But she could always sense their lust building. Lust for everything. For her body,

for her flesh and blood, for her power. They wanted, deeply.

Airship Seduction

She’d never wanted anyone or anything like that—so innate she could practically

bleed her desire. She occasionally found want that deep in others. Luc, for his dead

wife. The pixie princess for Elias.

“Althea!” Sacha met Angus’ gaze, the sadness welling in her heart again.

“Someone’s going to have to tell Althea about this.”

“Let’s not tell anyone just yet.” Javier knelt near the body again. With the black

tattoos rippling over his arm, he took a firm hold on his left sleeve and ripped it from

his body, then the right sleeve. He patted the bloody remains of Elias’ chest with one of

the sleeves, then folded it in on itself and wrapped it inside the other sleeve.

With his shoulders exposed again, Sacha was going to have to stand far away from

him. The man had simply magnificent shoulders. Lickable. They made it impossible for

her to concentrate on the task in front of them.

“Why wouldn’t we tell Althea?” Angus asked, his face redder than normal. “She

was his woman. She deserves to be the first to know.”

Javier’s face softened and he closed in on Angus, clapping his shoulder. “You

followed your instincts, good man that you are, and came to get Sacha, instead of telling

Althea first. You knew that something gruesome happened here.”

“Of course it’s gruesome!” Angus huffed. “Half his body’s missing.”
“Ah, but gruesome in motive, Angus. As well as gruesome in appearance.” Javier’s

dark gaze clapped on to Sacha again. She could feel something pulling her toward him,

drawing her in.

“So we’re not going to inform Althea of Elias’ passing?” she breathed, suddenly

finding that she was staring.

“We’re not.”
“And what do you intend to do with that awful stuff you found on the body?”
Javier extended the neatly wrapped package toward her. “I’d like you to keep it in

your room for now. I’m afraid if I bring it to the Cordovans, it may cause an uproar.

Since you have private quarters, it would be best if it remained with you.”

“What’ll we tell Luc?” Angus asked, turning his back on the boy’s body at last. A

visible relaxing of his features accompanied the gesture, and Sacha pulled back from his

thoughts, tempted to see if she could soothe him.

“Leave Luc to me.” Sacha stepped past Angus and into the hallway, hoping that a

breath of air would clear her thoughts. It did not. The sadness followed, even when

Elias’ corpse was gone from her sight.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t tell Luc anything yet.” Javier pressed his fingertips into her

arm, a light gesture, not a possessive one. But still, it set off a heat wave inside her.

“Not tell the captain?” Angus emerged from the room last, closing the door behind

him. “Who are you to ask us to lie to our superior officer?”

Camryn Rhys

Javier’s gaze dropped. Cautiously, he said, “I am no one. But something about Luc

gives me pause just now. I wonder if it wouldn’t be wiser not to burden him until we

can tell the rest of the ship.”

Sacha considered his words, gazing down the corridor where no one stood to block

her vision. “There’s no reason not to trust Luc. I’ll tell him when the time is right.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

* * * * *

Javier waited while Sacha gave orders to Angus concerning the guarding of the

body. The Scotsman didn’t trust him, which was logical, but Javier didn’t trust Luc. For

a ship supposedly full of friends, trust seemed sorely lacking.

“You don’t have to make Angus paranoid.” Sacha blew past him once Angus was

out of ear shot. “If you make him choose between any of us and Luc, he will always

choose Luc.”

“I wasn’t aware of that.”
“How could you be? You’ve been here five minutes.” She stopped in front of the

corridor back to her room and whirled on him. “I want you to know, I’m putting a lot of

my eggs into your basket.”

Her cheeks went instantly red.
“You don’t have to explain, Sacha. I’m aware of who I am.”
Sacha flipped her hair over her shoulder and kept walking again. Her hips bounced

with an enticing rhythm as she flounced away.

They walked as quietly as possible, while she led him back to her room. She opened

the clock, once more, and it surprised Javier even more the second time, because the

timepiece had barely moved forward in its progress, although at least an hour had

passed.

“I’m going to deposit this in a safe hiding place, and then we’re going to the deck.”

Sacha held the white ends of his shirt between two fingers, as though it were a soiled

diaper.

Javier leaned one arm against the interior door as the clock closed behind him. The

woodgrain was finer in here, less coarse, as though built for a more refined taste. “Can

we speak just for a moment?”

Sacha opened the bottom drawer of the desk, shoved the material into the back, and

clapped it closed again. When she bent, he couldn’t help but admire the lush roundness

of her backside, hidden beneath all those layers of fabric. And yet her long legs, where

they peeked out from under that short dress, were so well-defined by the clingy black

material. He wanted to follow those legs all the way to their source. Find said source

with his tongue, and lave it until she screamed his name.

With her back to him, she sighed. “Can we is a different question than should we,

Javier.”

Airship Seduction

She was reading his mind again.
His blood began to pulse. “Regardless of what pretty thoughts might be floating in

your head, my lady, that boy back there was ravaged by a demon. No demon that either

you or I or Angus could identify.”

One corner of her lips curled into a smile as she faced him. “And yet all you can

think about is ripping my clothes off and having your way with me. Typical man.”

Something in him snapped, and he spun her roughly by her arm to face him. With

animal quickness, he backed her up against the sturdy bookcase and blocked her in

with his powerful body.

“I am nothing like a typical man, señorita, and you would do well to remember

that.” He panted great gulps of air, inhaling her scent with each indrawn breath. She

was so fresh, as though she’d bathed only moments before, and yet underneath the

intoxicating spiciness of her soap, he could smell her sweat, and her desire. Growing.

The rhythm of her chest matched his own, as though he breathed in the air she

expelled and she did the same. Her eyes searched his face, then rested on his lips, and

for a moment, he thought she might kiss him. Sacha’s head bobbed toward him, then

turned.

“I’m not a toy for you to slake your lust.”
He laughed, feeling his amusement build from the pit of his stomach. Of course, she

didn’t know him. Didn’t know how long it had been, how many opportunities he’d

turned down with women far more willing.

Of course, if she were reading his mind, she would know, because each of them

flashed through his memory. All the way back to the last, with Mira.

He shook his head, then met her eyes. “I’m not an animal on the prowl, Sacha. I’m

not looking for a faceless body to rut with.”

With careful precision, he remembered their first meeting, in the fish market near

the sea, the day before yesterday. She’d been wearing that cloak that made her look like

a courtier. And then following her through the city, until finally she tracked down his

cuadrilla, and revealed herself for what she was.

Her face softened when he remembered his explicit fantasy of tasting her body. A

sudden sadness in her eyes made him pause. He touched her cheek, marveling at the

softness under his fingers.

“I wish I could read your mind.”
Sacha turned, leaving his hand empty, her silky hair fanning the back of his hand.

“You wouldn’t like what you’d find there.”

Javier grasped her chin and pulled her to face him, bending toward her. “I beg your

pardon, señorita, but you don’t know what I like.”

He took her rose petal mouth with his own and suckled her, tender at first. As her

body melted into his, Javier became more supplicant, and when she opened her mouth

to him, his tongue sought and danced with hers.

Camryn Rhys

Sacha’s hands tangled in the thickness of his hair, working their way across the

back of his neck, and pulling him closer. His arms stayed on the bookshelf, steadying

himself as he plunged down onto her, pressing her back against the hard shelves.

She moaned and he slid his arms around her, feeling the smooth material for some

kind of hook or release he could use to free her nakedness to him. The dress had no

apparent ending, and he pulled back to get a good look at the infernal thing.

She followed him, her mouth open, wanton. The hardness he’d been fighting off all

day returned, and brought the familiar pain of being imprisoned by inferior fabric. His

old pants had been made of a much more pleasant material. This, perhaps wool, chafed

at the ever-bulging head of his erection.

“This dress perplexes me.” He found her mouth again, urging her lips apart. “I

want to feel your body, my beautiful rebel, but I can’t seem to get at it.”

She giggled into his kiss. He thought it an unusual sound from this serious,

dominating woman, and paused to look at her.

Her hand snaked down, between two folds of material at her side, and pulled at a

hidden metal clasp, which released a long line of tiny hooks as she pressed it down the

side of her body. The dress fell from her body.

“It’s an automatic clasp mechanism,” she said. “All the Resistance uniforms have

them.”

Sacha pulled the dress away from her undergarments, revealing a heavy black

material underneath that encased her breasts, rib cage and stomach. A similar clasp

mechanism was hidden between two folds of material, as well, and hid the tiny hooks

that snaked down her side.

As he grasped this metal clasp, she covered his hand with hers and met his gaze.
“This is the only way to tell the true Resistance from the Empire masquerading as

us, you know.” She moved his hand lower, revealing tiny bits of her creamy skin to his

eyes. “Our automatic clasp mechanism was designed by…”

“Tell me later.” Javier captured her mouth again and pressed the clasp down until

he felt it catch. “This is a beautiful invention.” He peeled the fabric away from her side,

freeing one breast. “And I certainly would love to know,” he kissed the other breast,

“all about it.” He gazed at her hardening nipples, pushing the rest of the fabric down

her body and kneeling in front of her. “But much, much later.”

She stood before him, panting, naked from the waist up, her round breasts heaving

just above his eye-level. He kissed the soft flesh just above her bellybutton, and her

breath caught.

“I mean to taste every inch of your body, Sacha.” He met her lowered gaze and

reached up to catch one of her hardening nipples in his fingers. “Every inch. You know

this, don’t you?”

Her full, ripe lips opened around a moan and she nodded.
In Spanish, he said, “Every single beautiful inch.”

Airship Seduction

With a trembling hand, she reached up to her head. A tiny grimace crossed her

features, and she pulled the magic piece of metal from above her ear, placing it on the

edge of the bookshelf.

The pain on her face troubled him, but she urged him to his feet in front of her. “Do

you need me to speak in English, carina?”

Instead of answering, she kissed him. The pain had not vanished from her eyes, and

when he found them again after she released him, Javier could have sworn there were

edges of tears.

“I just need you to keep touching me.”

Sacha fumbled with the buttons on her pants as Javier tasted every inch of her belly,

just as he’d promised. The sensation dizzied her, but it was possible that she was more

overwhelmed by the need to feel him on her breasts and inside her cunt than she was

pleased by his kissing and licking the ticklish skin of her stomach.

She just loved that he was touching her, kissing her, tasting her. The thought of it

had made her wet with desire from the first moment she pressed into his mind. And it

was even better than she imagined it would be.

One strong hand pressed her thigh, close to her working fingers, and his other hand

cupped her back, pulling his mouth closer to her. Her belly tightened as he sucked on

her, and her insides actually ached to have him in her. Throbbed.

The points of her nipples pulsed as well, wanting the attention he paid other parts

of her body. Other than one painful touch, he had barely even heeded their existence.

His hand on her thigh moved to caress her through her pants and she groaned, her

hand leaving the opening of her pants and grasping one of the shelves for support as

her knees threatened to give way.

Before she knew it, Javier whisked her to the bed, lifting her with little exertion, and

laying her on the cool blanket with ease. He dropped his head to her wrist, kissing the

tender flesh, and she groaned.

“What’s wrong, carina?”
“I know you promised, every inch.” Her right hand went back to the buttons of her

pants, working to open them again. “But some of my inches need you more than others,

Javier.”

She practically growled his name, and the heat in his eyes showed he’d connected

with her meaning. With a devious smile curling his pursed lips, he added his fingers to

help work at the clasps.

The pants finally came free, and his thumb brushed the apex of her cunt, just above

her clit as he pressed the last button open. She shuddered and closed her eyes, bucking

up against him.

He peeled the pants down her legs, hovering over her clitoris, his breath priming

her. “This would be an inch that needs my attention, mi dulce?”

Camryn Rhys

“Please, God, just—” But she couldn’t finish, because between hearing him speak

Spanish and feeling his tongue press into her naked cunt, she just about came right on

the spot. “Holy Mother of God.”

“Don’t speak with God or his mother.” Javier stopped his delicious torture. “Just

me, carina.”

When she finally looked down at him, all she could see in the dim light was the

black curls of his head. But she felt every delicate thrust of his tongue, and a

magnificent tension built inside her, threatening to unfurl.

As the beginnings of her orgasm came upon her, she clutched at the blanket with

her trembling fingers and at his back with her legs. Her calves found the cotton of his

shirt, and the thought that he was completely clothed while she was spread naked

before him sent the final wave of pleasure rolling through her.

“Javier!” she hissed, searching for other words and finding none. As that fist of

passion unclenched inside her, she noticed two things at once.

First, her lover was standing over her, watching, unfastening his pants. And

second, the door to her bedroom was wide open, and there was someone blocking what

little light flooded in from the hallway. Someone who wasn’t currently unfastening his

pants.

“I hate to interrupt such a tender moment,” Luc said, his voice stern. “But we are

nearly to Avignon.”

Javier stopped messing with his trousers and stood in front of Sacha, blocking her

from Luc’s prying eyes.

“God, Luc!” she exclaimed.
In the illuminated corridor, the outline of his face appeared as he turned his head.

“Scusi, bella. But it was you who left the door open. For God and everyone to see.”

Luc stepped through the clock, into the room. As he advanced, Javier pulled the

edges of the blanket from the front of the bed and threw them over her nakedness,

cocooning her in its warmth. Sacha felt the heat expand in her heart, as well, that Javier

would do such a possessive thing.

“We forgot ourselves.” Javier came to his full height, standing toe-to-toe with Luc

as the blond came to a halt in front of the bed.

“I’m well aware of her charms, brother.” Luc patted Javier’s shoulder, a diminutive

gesture, and peered past the hulking Spaniard. “Twice in one day, Sachela? Even you

are not that ravenous.”

Heat crawled up Sacha’s neck and she broke eye contact. Javier straightened and

took a step forward. “Where I come from, amigo, a man does not speak to a lady with

such a voice.”

Luc’s hand, still on Javier’s shoulder, flexed. His hollow laughter rang in the tiny

space. “A man says many things when his heart has been broken, Javier.”

Airship Seduction

Sacha fought the urge to laugh, herself. Luc’s heart, broken? Because she was

intimate with another man? She knew better. “Please leave us, Luc. We will join you on

deck shortly.”

“Remember, Sachela, we have work to do.” Luc’s voice rumbled low, and she did

not need to see his face to know that this was a warning.

“I am well aware of the work we need to do.”
Luc’s steps rang in the tiny room, but he stopped at the door. Sacha peeked around

Javier’s thighs to see her captain lighting the lamp in the corner. The light bloomed, and

he stepped through the door, closing it.

For a long moment, Sacha wasn’t sure what Javier would do. Certainly he

understood what Luc meant when he referred to their encounter this morning. She tried

pushing into his mind, but she’d taken out the translator, and the pictures were gone.

Then he turned to her, knelt beside the bed, and reached for one hand. “Let’s

promise each other something, carina.” His gaze settled on her mouth. “This will be

whatever it will be. We have not known each other for long enough to have regrets.”

She nodded, a piece of hair slipping over her shoulder. Javier pulled her dark hair

behind her ear and leaned in, kissing her forehead. He came to sit on the edge of the

bed.

“You don’t owe me anything.” His voice was hot and dark. Sacha’s heart melted.

The way his eyes avoided hers, the way his mouth was so tight, she was certain there

was another emotion on his mind and considered going to the bookshelf for the

linguistor.

He rose from the bed, picked up her discarded clothes, and returned them to her.
“I’ll wait outside while you dress.”
She caught his hand as he pressed her clothes toward her. “Please, stay.” With his

back turned, she couldn’t read his face. “You’ve seen it all already.”

His shoulders tensed, the black tattoos rippling over his skin. He said something

indiscernible in Spanish and pulled his hand away.

“At least wait in here.”
Javier stood near the bookshelf, his dark pants blending into the shadows. With the

arms ripped off his shirt, he looked menacing. And yet, he’d been so gentle with her.

She wanted that man back again.

He’d been so much more gentle than Luc had ever been, and so attentive to her

body. She promised someday to return the favor.

Camryn Rhys

Chapter Seven

Javier could barely stand the scent of the airship captain. It stung his nostrils. The

smell of him was everywhere, except in the werewolves’ quarters. So rather than

following Sacha to the deck, he’d muddled his way back to pick up Vidal’s scent, and

found them all hovering over Sergio’s body, surrounded by hundreds of lit candles,

reeling with grief.

“We’ve been waiting for you, brother.” Vidal clapped Javier on the back when he

arrived, then fingered the seams of his shirt. “What happened?”

“A very long story. Perhaps another time.” Javier realized he was trying to be too

chipper, his smile and his attitude were too feigned. The other weres watched him with

furrowed brows.

Javier stepped through their ranks and stood before Sergio’s body. He looked so

like Mira. Javier had noticed that over the years. In his relaxed state, he had her long,

elegant nose and soft eyes. Sergio at full awareness was a different creature.

He put a hand on the boy’s cheek. The muerta larga of a fully mature werewolf often

took twelve hours. The more powerful the werewolf, the longer it took for his body to

surrender his spirit.

Javier remembered watching his father’s muerta larga, looking for the moment when

his body would stiffen and surrender, so they could burn him. It had taken nearly the

full night until the first rays of sun before he could be placed on the pyre, and the young

boy had sat, watching his father’s face for hours, waiting to see the moment. When his

mother finally ordered the body into the flames, the bearers had to pry Javier from his

father’s body, while the boy insisted he wasn’t ready yet.

Shaking the memory away, Javier looked at the men around him. “He’s not ready

yet.”

“That is good,” Vidal said from behind him. “Before you came, Luc told us we were

about an hour from Avignon.”

“Minutes,” Javier spat. “What care have we for time? We must be ready when he

surrenders.”

One of the weres released a sound somewhere between a tenor high note and a wolf

howl. One by one, the others joined in. Some mimicking his song, some singing

counterpoint. The chorus reminded Javier of his fallen brothers, and he lifted his voice

along with them.

This is where he should have been. With Sergio’s body. With his were

brothers…cousins. Not following Sacha, looking for answers. Not coiled between her

legs, tasting her honeyed cunt.

Airship Seduction

He should have recognized the scent around her as Luc’s. Javier prided himself on

being a one-woman man, and expected the same of his lovers. It was ludicrous to go

around sticking your cock into anything that moved just because it got hard. Like so

many of his cuadrilla had done.

It had been too long since Mira.
He was out of practice with women. That was why Sacha had been able to so

immediately bewitch him. Something about her called out to him. From the moment he

set eyes on her, he wanted her, in every way a man could want a woman. And every

way a wolf could.

The singing had long ago reached its crescendo, and was dying down. It would

pick up again, no doubt.

But the Cordovan’s sympathy did little to quench the anger burning in Javier’s

stomach. The thought of belonging to another pack had never entered his mind. Of

course, neither had the systematic extinction of werewolves by European governments.

Still, he was not a Cordovan were, and much as the offer was appreciated, he would

never truly be one of them.

But no matter what Sacha claimed about the war being unwinnable, he would visit

this revenge on someone.

“Take me to the deck. I will see us land in Avignon.”
Of course, the entire pack would decide to come along, despite what Javier insisted.

They followed close as he carried Sergio’s body, staying behind Vidal, who knew the

ship better than he ever would.

And back in the corridors again, Luc’s scent was everywhere. Javier tried to block

him out, but the entire ship was saturated with it. Could not the other weres smell it? Or

had they been so inundated with it for so long, they couldn’t distinguish it from

anything else?

Or was it so strong to him only? Because of Sacha? And why would it matter, a

woman he barely knew, if her lover’s scent was everywhere?

The closer they got to the deck, the more Javier could feel the movement of the ship.

Although he still had no sense of direction, he was able at least to discern that they were

moving.

They passed the hold, which Javier knew, and the corridor where the body had

been found, which he only recognized because of the faint scent of flesh that lingered.

He was careful to watch the other weres, but they did not smell the blood.

With great difficulty, he pushed Sacha from his thoughts. He could practically feel

her reaching out to him, and the last thing he wanted was her reading his unsuspecting

mind. At least if he filled his head with other things, he wouldn’t be thinking of her. He

conjured images of Sergio, Barcelona, anything that could distract him from thinking of

Sacha’s scent and eyes and breasts and sex.

Camryn Rhys

After they passed through a final corridor, a small door stood open at the end.

Rather than being made of wood, like all the others, this one was edged in metal, with a

large metal lip that curled up toward the ceiling at the top.

Through the door, the whole room opened into a giant triangular shape, with the

front open. Although as Javier approached, he could see they weren’t open at all, for

there was no wind. Something covered them that looked like air. Glass, perhaps, but it

was a huge amount of glass, for the room was at least as wide as the hold had been, and

nearly as deep, if cut on the front so the room ended in a point.

The instruments were all made of copper, sunk into the wood frames, some riveted

into the hold to look almost like a shiny fabric. The navigator’s station, the captain’s

station, the helm, all were copper. The room made a truly magnificent spectacle, with

the contrast of texture, and the sheer size of the place.

Javier felt small for the first time in his life.
He stood in front of the Royal Palace in Madrid not three years ago, and still

managed to feel his own power. But in this massive ship, with Sergio’s lifeless corpse in

his arms, stripped of all that mattered to him, he was infinitesimal.

Sacha felt Javier’s presence before she saw him. She and Luc had been quietly

arguing near the helm, him with one hand on her waist and one hand on the wheel.

Arguing about Javier, about her involvement with him, about the state in which Luc

had found her only minutes before. But she barely heard Luc’s words. As soon as she

felt the gentle pressure of Javier’s thoughts, she reached for the comfort of his mind.

And of course, in her haste, she’d forgotten the linguistor, which was another thing

Luc berated her for. But regardless of that, she couldn’t understand Javier’s racing

thoughts. The pictures flickered between Sergio in the streets of Barcelona, Javier with

Mira, and Javier with his brother weres.

She pulled out of his mind, remembering that she’d promised him. But he left her

without so much as a by-your-leave, and she desperately wanted to talk to him about

Luc and explain…well, whatever there was to explain.

Even she didn’t know where she and Luc stood, other than that he was still madly

in love with his dead wife. But from the looks of his thoughts, so was Javier, even

though Mira had not been his legal wife. Maybe she was doomed to want men who

loved other women.

At least she had her eyes wide open.
“We can’t afford to lose focus, Sachela.” Luc pressed his hand heavily against her

skirt. “I realize that I may not be everything you’ve ever wanted in a lover.”

Sacha raised an eyebrow and he had the nerve to look sad. He wasn’t sad. She knew

what went on inside his brain—he didn’t love her any more than he loved Angus.

Perhaps less. He loved the release of their encounters, but he’d never loved her. Since

Airship Seduction

they began this tryst, nearly six months previous, she’d known what she was getting

herself into.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sachela. You spear my heart.”
“You’re being melodramatic.”
“I know that I cannot give you all you need. But must you take up with a werewolf?

He can’t hold a candle to your heritage, cara mia.”

It was strange to hear him speak in Italian. Most of the time, she had on the

linguistor, and understood the words he said. His voice, unlike Javier’s, sounded the

same in the metal reproduction as it did in real life. But it was strange to hear his mouth

make those sounds. She realized how much she missed the friendship they used to

have, before Harbinger, and The Resistance. Before the war.

“This is not about my heritage, Luc. Your pride has been damaged, and it will

recover. I don’t want to fight about this any longer.”

Sacha pulled Luc’s hand from her waist. Javier was approaching the door, and she

wanted to make a physical statement about her relationship with Luc, even if he

wouldn’t let her speak about it.

She strode across the front of the helm. “They’re coming.”
Moments later, Vidal came through the door, followed by Javier, and then a cadre

of other weres. But none of them could hold a dim candle to Javier.

The raw power in his legs, the proud hoist of his shoulders, the flare of his dark

eyes, the curl of his hair around his neck. She’d had her fingers in that hair less than an

hour before, and loved the feel of it in her hands.

He was raw sexual energy, tightly leashed behind a veneer of pride. It made her

breath quicken. She noticed that Luc was not eyeing Javier as he entered, but watching

her instead. The man was more confusing now than he’d ever been.

“We are close to Avignon now?” Vidal asked, coming to stand near Sacha. None of

the weres liked Luc, she noticed. They crowded behind Vidal, away from Luc’s

menacing stares. Javier froze in the middle of the room, studying its details and

avoiding both her gaze and Luc’s.

“We’re going to land north of the city, near an island in the river. The cloud cover

should protect us from being seen in the city.” Luc twisted the wheel just a touch to his

left, watching the brass compass built into the panel near his left hand.

“We will land before sunset?” Javier still did not look at Luc. Instead, he locked his

eyes on the floor in front of him.

“Well before, it appears. We made better time than I anticipated.”
Javier nodded, a curl bouncing onto his forehead. The man needed a haircut in the

worst way. Only then there would be less of his hair to hold on to when he was buried

in her…

Focus, Sacha.

Camryn Rhys

“After we dock in the river, the top decks will open and we can lower the

walkway.” Sacha spoke to Vidal since Javier wouldn’t make eye contact. The stockier of

the two alphas made plenty of eye contact, and offered a wan smile.

“We will all go ashore with Javier to prepare for the ritual.”
Luc’s head snapped. “I thought you’d be doing your rituals here.” Luc shot Sacha

an angry look. “We need to be on our way quickly.”

“The muerta larga is a process that cannot be hurried,” Javier said. “We must wait

for his body to be ready, and then we feed him to the flames.”

Luc stepped away from the wheel, one hand worrying that blond hair of his. “What

was all that this morning about putting him in the furnace?”

“We would have waited the same time, anywhere.” Javier shifted Sergio in his

arms, the boy’s head flopping back against Javier’s tattooed arm. “In the belly of this

ship, on the shores of Avignon, in the fires of hell. It matters not. Once a were spirit is

ready to rise, it must be freed by fire.”

Luc snorted. “Well, if you’re not back long before sunrise, we’re leaving without

you.”

Vidal, Javier and several of the other wolves started to protest. Sacha held her

hands up in a defensive posture.

“We will not be leaving without you.”
“The hell we won’t, Sachela. We have a rendezvous with one of the local Resistance

men to lead us to this last nest of magicks. Then, we have to make for Prague. Post

haste, Alexei said.”

Sacha met Luc’s smoldering eyes with a forceful gaze that she hoped found home.

“We will not be leaving without them.”

After holding Luc’s eyes until she was certain he understood her seriousness, she

searched for Javier. He still was not looking at her. A great ball of tension seemed to

pull tighter in her chest. She just wanted to see his eyes, to know he still saw her as she

was, as she wanted to be.

But he watched the floor as though the outcome of the war depended on his staying

fixed on one spot.

“We will build the pyre and ready it for him as soon as we disembark the ship,”

said Vidal, raising his voice above the murmur of the other weres.

Luc pricked his head up again. “You’re going to leave a funeral pyre burning all

night? Until he feels like surrendering his spirit?”

Javier lifted his gaze. “We must be ready when he is ready.”
“Have you thought about what might happen if people come looking for this fire in

the middle of nowhere?” Luc gestured toward the bowels of the ship. “We have

hundreds of magical creatures to protect, and you’re going to draw trouble to us

because one of your friends needs his soul saved?”

Airship Seduction

Javier bared his teeth, stepping toward Luc, and the other weres followed suit. “One

is the same as all. If one is lost, all are lost.”

“That’s backwoods twaddle,” said Luc.
“You’re calling us uncivilized? You, who reek so profoundly of humanity that it

fills the entire ship with your stink?”

Sacha moved across the room to stand between them, but Luc advanced to her

outstretched hand.

“You’re going to endanger hundreds of people, some of whom are more important

to this cause than you are, because some stupid boy got himself killed?”

A low rumble started somewhere deep inside Javier. Of course, he couldn’t shift, so

there would be far less blood than what Javier wanted, but he was stronger than Luc,

bigger and fiercer. He had more fight in him.

Still, Luc had a gun. She worried for them both.
“Stop, you two, just stop!” she shouted.
Javier was coiling down, preparing to strike, and Luc was reaching for his gun.
“I said stop!” she shouted again. But neither did.
With a quick push deep inside, the wave built. Her anger, when it expanded upon

itself, had a way of invading the minds of others, and it was preparing to do just that.

Javier dropped Sergio’s body, Luc made contact with his gun, and Sacha pushed

the anger outward. An invisible wave emanated from her in concentric circles, pushing

as far out as the navigator and several of the other weres. All were knocked soundly on

their backsides.

It happened so quickly, everyone might have missed that it was her mind that had

silenced them all. Except that when she opened her eyes to survey the damage,

everyone within ten feet of her was on their backs, and Sacha stood in the midst of a

circle of unconscious bodies.

* * * * *

Javier woke with a pounding pain in his head. It took a moment to remember what

had happened, but when it started to flood back, he remembered the big deck, the

anger, the insults. And Sacha.

Something had struck him in the chest and knocked him backward. Sergio’s lifeless

body lay almost two feet away. A quick survey of the room told him it was not Sergio

who had moved. Rather, Javier, Luc, Vidal and about ten others had each been flattened

as well.

But Javier was the first to wake.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been on his back, but the crew on the edges of the

deck continued to work at their instruments as though nothing had happened.

Or as though this sort of thing had happened before.

Camryn Rhys

The only thing missing from the circle was Sacha.
Javier scanned the deck, but she was nowhere to be found. The other weres who

were not on their backs were gone. Only the crew remained, unfazed. He got to his feet,

slowly, and the ache in his head worsened. Javier groaned.

From across the deck, someone yelled, “Best to stay still for a bit, yet.”
When Javier turned to follow the sound of the unidentifiable voice, he expected to

find a man attached to it. Instead, he saw an unfamiliar, yet distinctly female face. Her

deep-set eyes and aquiline nose reminded him of something he couldn’t place. With

straight, silky black hair and sharp cheekbones, she wasn’t what he would call

beautiful. He liked his women a little softer, curvier. A little more like Sacha.

“Will it help the pain?”
“In your head? Yes.” She turned back to her work.
“There will be more pain?”
She stood, after scratching a last line into the open diary. Her costume was not

unlike Sacha’s, although she filled it differently. The same short dress with a slightly

longer back, the same copper breastplate, black boots and tight pants. Her movements,

though, set her apart from anyone Javier had ever seen.

Her fluidity was intoxicating to watch, like a foreign dance. Although she did step,

she made no sound, and her shoulders slumped permanently, always at the ready. The

only thing stilted about her movement was the occasional jerk of her head as the others

began to groan.

“There will be more pain later,” she said.
Javier leaned back on his elbows and lowered himself gently to the floor. It did help

the pain a bit to recline fully.

The strange woman came to stand over him, hands on her hips. “It isn’t the same

for any of us, where the pain begins, but it will begin somewhere. And soon.”

Her hair fell over her shoulders as she looked down at him, and she cocked her

head at a strange angle, her eyes narrowing. “You are one of the weres, yes?”

Javier nodded. Although he’d never seen one in person, he guessed she was a Felis,

a race of shapeshifters similar to weres, who took feline form. According to his

grandmother, the Felis and the Lobos were once rivals. But he and his brothers were not

raised on tales of the catshifters the way his grandmother had been.

“I am one of the weres. Yes.”
She regarded him a moment longer, taking in the details of his face, his clothing,

down to his feet. She pointed to Sergio’s lifeless corpse. “Is he one of yours?”

Javier ground his teeth. The sting of tears filled his awareness. “He was one of

mine.”

“I am Chax.” She reached one gloved hand toward him, extending her fingers wide.

“You should be able to rise now.”

Airship Seduction

Taking her offered hand, he stood quickly. “How long have we been asleep?”
“Over an hour. Sacha asked us to retrieve her when you woke.” Her head swiveled

as a noise sounded behind them. “Please, do not stand,” she said to Vidal, who was

groaning from the other side of the circle.

“How long to Avignon?”
Chax studied his face, her head angling in liquid movements. “We landed in France

nearly three quarters of an hour ago.” Her head whipped around again. “I will ask you

not to stand or move, please. It will be best for you—Henry!”

The crew member at the other side of the deck jumped from his chair. He moved to

handle Vidal and the other waking weres.

“Would you like to fetch Sacha yourself?” Chax purred, looking him up and down.

“Surely she won’t turn you away, and I’m needed here if I may stay.” She swept her

arm in a half circle, indicating the other bodies. “They will wake slowly. We must wait

for them, to still their responses.”

Javier glanced back into the ship. “I’m not sure I can remember the way to her

quarters.”

Chax placed a long-fingered hand on his chest. “Take every left after the first right

until you come to the clock.” She swept his body again with her eyes, and from deep

inside her throat, the rhythmic purring returned. “Knock at the clock.”

He followed her instructions and was deep into the bowels of the ship before he

realized he’d left Sergio lying on the floor with the other weres.

The clock stood open when he turned the last corner. The only inkling he had that it

was the last corner was that he began to smell Sacha underneath Luc’s wretched scent.

The dark passageway to her room glowed in the light of the candle Sacha left lit near

the door.

She lay on her bed, hands folded over her stomach, resting serenely where the

bronze plate met the cerulean of her gown. With her eyes closed, her dark hair fanned

out over the pillow, and her body so pristinely still, she looked like a corpse. Were it not

for the occasional rise of the breastplate, he might have checked her pulse.

“I’m sorry.” Her lips barely moved, but her voice was clear and strong. The steady

rhythm of her breath continued.

Javier didn’t speak. Whatever purpose had brought him here suddenly disappeared

when he saw her stretched on the bed. He couldn’t help but remember the last time

she’d been in this posture.

“You have every right to be curious, Javier. Please, sit down at the desk and I’ll

explain everything.”

She obviously wasn’t reading his mind. “I don’t want to talk about what happened

on deck.”

Camryn Rhys

Her chest continued to rise and fall. When he’d watched her breathing for almost a

full minute in silence, his patience snapped. Javier crossed the room in two long steps

and knelt at her side, grasping her hand.

“Sacha.”
Her sharp intake of breath stopped him from speaking, but at the shift in her

rhythm, his concern multiplied. He slid a hand onto her stomach, meeting part cold

metal and part dress fabric. Her face twisted in pain and she cried out, her back arching

toward his hand.

Javier immediately pulled both hands away and leaned back in shock. His senses

shifted into hypersensitivity, seeking out her body heat, her smell, her heartbeat.

Everything about her was on high alert.

He groaned in hesitant immobility. His very nature demanded that he do

something to stop her pain, but if he couldn’t touch her, he had no idea how to stop

whatever was happening to her.

“Please… Please, don’t…” Her breath hitched and her face wrinkled, pressing

breath through tense lips. “It’s too soon…please, go back to the desk.”

Javier stood, frustration welling in his throat. He had to concentrate to normalize

his own heartbeat. He’d never felt so powerless in all his life, and it terrified him. This

woman he’d known for the space of two days suddenly had the ability to render him

useless to the world. He wasn’t sure he liked this.

“What am I supposed to do from here?”
“Nothing.” She panted a few short, uneven breaths, then the deep rhythm he’d

witnessed before returned. “Please, if you sit and wait.” She said nothing more for a few

breaths.

Javier’s muscles twitched to do something. He rolled his shoulders and closed his

eyes, reminding himself that she’d promised to explain. Not that information would

help anything. What would help is if he could fix whatever was wrong.

“Please. Sit.”
“How can you tell if I’m sitting, Sacha? Your eyes are closed.”
“I can feel your tension.”
“But you’re not reading my thoughts?”
Her breathing hitched for a moment and Javier seized the edge of the desk, feeling

the rough underside catch his fingertips. The splintered wood cut into his sensitive skin

and the pain grounded him. His pulse steadied, as did Sacha’s breathing.

“What happened on the deck…” She sucked in a long breath. “It is like pushing

myself into everyone’s brain.”

Javier pulled his hand from the desk and studied it. Tiny pricks of blood appeared

on his first and third fingers. He stuck both fingers into his mouth and the tang of his

own blood made a wave of nausea roll over him. It was somehow comforting to focus

Airship Seduction

on the trials of his own body when Sacha was so obviously struggling to maintain her

equilibrium not four feet from him.

“The catshifter who was with me when I woke…”
“Chax. She’s the navigator.”
“She said there would be pain.”
Sacha’s hands moved higher, toward her breasts, and rested again on her rib cage.

“My…the presence of my mind inside yours. It triggers something in people. I don’t

understand it all, but it always happens.”

Her hands flexed, then moved to the bed. She lightly fisted the sheets in her hands,

then opened her hands again. Some kind of balance seemed to be returning.

“I am sorry for the pain, Javier.”
He stretched to his full height and rolled his shoulders, searching his body

carefully.

Sacha’s eyes flickered open and she turned her head, her dark hair crowning her

like a princess. The beautiful gleam of her dark eyes accelerated his pulse. The cloud of

frustration that had been building deep in his throat suddenly dissolved.

“There is no pain, querida.”
The promise of a smile curled across her lips. “I like hearing your language.” The

tenor of her voice dropped into a husky depth that made his blood race.

He pitched his tone to match hers, hoping to inflame her as she had him. “Le hablaré

por siempre si tu lo permite en español, mi querida.”

“What does that mean?”
Javier leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and dropped his voice even more,

whispering, “I said I will forever speak Spanish to you, if you’ll let me.”

Sacha’s eyelashes fluttered against her pale cheeks. “Beautiful.” Then, as though

remembering something, her eyes opened wide. “Did you say you felt no pain?”

“No, querida.” Javier’s heel moved, impatiently. Now that she was coming around,

he just wanted to touch her.

“How long have you been awake?”
“Not long. Maybe a quarter of an hour now.”
Sacha’s brows knit together. “That’s quite odd.” She swung her legs around slowly

and sat up. “There is always pain. And it’s always right away.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and Javier turned to the door, fully expecting to

find Luc. Instead, the angular face of the catshifter appeared. Her quick eyes flickered

between him and Sacha.

“Everyone is awake, ma’am.” Chax stood at attention as though she might salute

Sacha. “Acclimating as much as they can. Well, except for the corpse, of course.”

Camryn Rhys

The corpse. Javier chided himself for allowing his mind to drift away from Sergio

yet again. His eyes latched on to Sacha. She had changed everything for him, and not all

in ways that he liked.

“We’ve landed?” Sacha asked, pressing her hands into the bed for support. The

lines on her face said she still hadn’t fully recovered from whatever she’d done to them.

“Nearly an hour ago.”
“Where’s Luc?”
Chax shrugged her shoulders. “No one has seen him since he woke.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Just a quarter of an hour after you left.”
Javier shook his head. “Luc? I didn’t see him when I woke.”
Chax’s head flipped toward him, a swift and fluid movement. Her eyes swept him

quickly. “You were still asleep when he left.”

Sacha sighed. “Please tell me Henry landed us somewhere unobtrusive.”
“We’re near the river island, protected as we can be, and as far as we could get from

civilization,” Chax said.

Sacha flashed a weak smile. “We’ll be back to the deck soon, Chax. I just need a

minute alone with Javier.”

As quickly as she’d approached, Chax bounded away. This time, Javier caught a

glimmer of metal on her arm he’d missed before. He fingered the Prata.

“Is the moon out?” he asked.
Sacha’s eyebrows peaked. “I don’t know. I would imagine so. We’re quite a bit later

than we thought we’d be.”

“I would like to burn him in the moonlight if I could.”
She nodded. “I understand. I must find Luc and then we can disembark the ship.”
“I must go alone.”
Her full lips pursed. The movement was so uninhibited, yet so sensual. He wanted

to capture those lips and feast on them.

“I’ll have to talk with Luc. You’ll need protection.”
“I can protect myself,” he growled.
“At least take Vidal?”
Javier considered, trying to press away the thoughts of what his brothers would say

if they were here. Allowing strangers to view the burning would animate his ancestors

from their ashes back in Spain.

But if he had to choose between strangers’ presence and allowing Sergio to remain

trapped in his body, he would take the former. He’d already been enough of a cock-up

when it came to leading the Avinguda pack, one more mistake wouldn’t do him any

good or harm, one way or the other.

Airship Seduction

Chapter Eight

The rest of the weres had a much more typical recovery from the incident on deck,

spending quite a bit of time writhing together in their respective pain. Some of it was

legitimate, but some was the melodramatic nature of the werewolves. Sacha was bored

with their spectacle.

The entire Cordovan pack accompanied Javier as he carried Sergio down the long

walkway almost two hours after Javier left Sacha’s room. They filed down like a line of

morose men walking the plank to their death. Some carried candles from their quarters.

Some wore long white robes. Some were naked from the waist up, clothed in only their

dark common-issue trousers.

Javier was one of the half-naked ones, and it distracted Sacha something fierce.
She and Luc had disembarked together while Javier waited for the weres to recover.

They found a place not far from the ship where they could hide themselves without

being seen.

Of course, any of the wolves could sniff them out if they had half a mind to, but she

hoped they would remain blissfully unaware, and they found a place significantly

upwind which still provided the view they needed.

With the Empire hunting them, it was just moronic to send them out, unprotected.

And since they wouldn’t allow non-weres to participate in the ritual, she had to

improvise.

She didn’t like to improvise. That was how people got killed. But Javier wouldn’t

have it any other way.

“Where did you tell the others to wait?” she asked.
Luc pointed across the large clearing where the pyre had been arranged to the north

side of the river shore. Another copse, much larger than the one she and Luc hovered

in, sat back against the edge of the water. Although she couldn’t make out any clues as

to their presence, she assumed that’s where they hid.

Henry had landed them in a strategic place, just sidled up to the long, uninhabited

island on the north side of the city. With the dense foliage on the mainland and thick,

low cloud cover, it was possible that no one had seen them land.

Unlikely, but possible.
If there were Empire spies, they were probably not this far beyond the city walls.

And the island, while habitable and solid enough, was not populated. If Javier and his

werewolves would hurry, they might even be back in the air before the night was

completely upon them.

Camryn Rhys

The sun still hung just above the western hills, dipping below the heavy clouds to

reveal its face before sinking into darkness. Night would begin to fall in less than half

an hour, and twilight was a dangerous time in this part of France.

The weres finally progressed around the pyre, circling the makeshift pile of sticks.

Javier stepped forward and placed Sergio’s body alongside it, then joined the circle, his

back to Sacha and Luc.

There was a long silence as they bowed their heads, then Javier raised his chin into

the sky and began to howl. The sound was as animalistic as it was human, and as full of

grief as anger. She’d never heard anything quite like it.

Luc snorted next to her. “Well, if that doesn’t bring the Empire out, nothing will.”
“Stop,” she hissed. “They may hear us, even from this distance.”
“Think about it, Sachela. There are no werewolves in this area.” Luc’s long, stubbed

nose twitched as though smelling something, and he licked his incisors with quick flicks

of his tongue. “They may even be able to hear that wretched yelping within the city

walls.”

Sacha studied his face as he stared into the clearing. There was something almost

canine about the way he watched them. Not like a were—a human incarnation of a

wolf—but more like a dog trapped inside a human body. Alien. Feral. And not happy

about it.

It struck her that he’d never looked quite like this before.
“They’ll be finished soon.” She eyed the group of howling werewolves and

continued, almost to herself, “Surely, Javier knows we can’t just sit here like this.”

The noise reached a crescendo, then faded. Sudden silence after so much noisy grief

made Sacha uncomfortable. She’d seen plenty of werewolf rituals before, especially of

the Spanish variety, and they often ebbed and flowed like this, but it didn’t make the

waiting any less interminable.

Across the river, just above the craggy brown tips of the eastern hills, the clouds

were heaviest. In the low sunlight and dense cover, the moon wasn’t really visible, but

its promise hung on the horizon as certain as the night. Last of the full moon tonight—

not that it would matter.

“I believe they’ve finished,” Luc said.
The werewolves stepped into a tighter circle with their collective heads bowed.

Javier bent to pick up Sergio’s body.

“But no one knows how long this will take,” Sacha reminded him.
“I thought they had to burn him before the moon.”
“That’s a myth, Luc.”
“There’s no such thing as myth in this world.” His face darkened into fierce lines. “I

had it on good authority that the moon rising was some sort of catalyst for this burning

ceremony.”

Airship Seduction

Sacha reached for his arm, feeling the silky black fabric slip between her fingers.

“We will wait, they will burn him, and we will make Milan. Don’t worry.”

Luc turned his face so he could meet her fully. Instead of speaking, he cocked his

head to one side and studied her. His eyes, usually a light-brown, looked almost black

in the low light, and moved across her features with alarming quickness.

“You remind me of Tsura sometimes.” He released a long, sweet breath and offered

a slight smile. “She used to touch my arm like that, when I would be on the edge of

anger.” Luc’s eyes narrowed and he held her gaze for a moment before looking back at

the spectacle in the clearing. “It always brought me back.”

Sacha couldn’t speak for a long moment. It was unlike Luc to open up, to speak of

her best friend who had been gone so long. Other than Tsura’s face in Luc’s mind while

he rutted with her, she assumed he never thought of his late wife. She hadn’t caught

even Tsura’s name in his thoughts for months now, besides during sex.

“That surprises me,” Sacha replied. “She was such a firebrand.”
A sudden memory of Tsura manifested in Sacha’s mind. Her black hair swept up

into customary childhood plaits, she fought with one of her brothers over a bit of bread

left from dinner. Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once, punching and poking,

pounding on Za’s broad chest, fisting the bread and running. When she and Sacha

reached a copse of trees, she’d broken the bread in half and handed some to her friend.

“Why did you take the bread, Tsura?” Sacha had asked. “We just ate and I can’t fit a

morsel of this in my mouth.”

Her friend’s fierce eyes took in her face and laughed. “Because we can have it. And

because Za wanted it.” Tsura’s angry hands pressed the bread toward Sasha’s mouth.

“Sometimes you fight just because you can.”

How her memories and Luc’s could be so different puzzled Sacha. More than that,

it frustrated her.

“I feel, sometimes, like I can’t remember her anymore.” A quiet tear slid down

Sacha’s cheek as she closed her eyes, memorizing the contours of Tsura’s childhood

face. The same face she’d grown into as an adult, save the innocence of childhood. Such

a beautiful face.

Luc’s rough palm guided Sacha’s hand to his cheek. “You can always look in my

memories, Sacha. Look.”

She didn’t need to touch him to read the pictures in his head, but it did help the

connection when her emotions threatened her. The physical sensation of his stubbled

cheek under her hand made the experience more real, somehow.

Luc saw Tsura as he’d met her. Loose-flowing hair splayed on the forest floor,

brown dress torn. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen. He rescued her from the

highwaymen who killed her father. His first touch, he’d been overwhelmed by her

beauty.

Camryn Rhys

His next image flashed of her was less than a year later, the plain dress she wore to

her wedding curling around her shoulders as he peeled it back in wonder. He kissed

the dark skin on her shoulder, then the image faded.

Another tear joined the wet mess on Sacha’s cheek. “The dress wasn’t quite that

color, as I remember it.” She pulled her hand back from Luc’s face, afraid he would

show her a picture of Tsura’s death. “How like a man to forget the details when sex is

involved.”

Luc’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “You remember her wedding dress with that

much detail?”

“She’d been my companion nearly since birth.” Sacha dried her cheeks. “I try to

remember everything about her.” For the first time, when she cried in front of Luc, she

didn’t add to her torture by wishing he would dry her tears for her. There wasn’t even a

tiny hint of that desire left in her.

One encounter with Javier, and Luc was an unappetizing former lover. Since there

were days and years when she’d wondered if this moment would ever come, she

savored it and pictured Javier’s strong arms around her. A much more appetizing wish

than hoping for Luc’s empty heart to be hers. Never again.

Luc’s concern deepened into anger and he dipped his dark face away from her. “I

wish I had your memory.”

“You have memories I do not, Luc.” She colored as he flipped frightened eyes to

hers. “As you should.”

“Can you see her…?”
His sentence, she could finish without reading his mind.
“When you come into my bed?”
Luc nodded, his gaze fixed on the cool ground in front of him. There was nothing

special about that patch of grass, other than that he’d not orgasmed into its depths

while thinking of another woman. So it was undeniably safe, although Sacha wanted to

reassure him that she took no offense.

“Yes. But it would be strange if you did not think of her, no matter whose bed you

share.” Sacha touched his arm again, marveling at the cool temperature. He certainly

felt the night air more quickly than she did.

“Sachela, I—” His pliant voice, while earnest, belied the stoic blankness of his face.

She wanted to stop the free flow of his guilt.

“She was your first and only love, Luc. I understand.”
He was silent while the muscles in his face twitched unaccountably. An unreadable

expression covered his features, and Sacha waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she

released his arm.

“You blame me.”
“We promised not to speak of it.”

Airship Seduction

Unsatisfied, she pushed at his mind, but found the barriers up again. How he’d

learned that skill, she’d never know, but it was his most frustrating. They hadn’t

promised not to speak of it. He’d ordered her never to bring it up. There was a

difference.

“Don’t try to read my mind anymore, Sacha.” He leaned forward, hovering on the

balls of his feet. The gun that had been on the ground was now in his hands.

“They’re on the move.” Luc nodded toward the pyre.
In the lowering light, Sacha could still make out shapes. The bare chests were

obvious, contrasted with the white robes, but she made out none of the details that

helped tell one bare chest from the next. They had yet to light the fire, although they

seemed to be moving out into a more extended formation.

At the center of the circle, a figure knelt before the pyre. Sacha assumed this was

Javier, and watched him closely. The circle stopped expanding and all of the weres

turned around so they faced away from Javier.

A great howl went up just as the clouds parted to reveal the nearly full moon. As

the light from the bright orb spilled across the clearing, the wolves responded in a sort

of frenzied wailing. Though none of them began the transformation, they roiled

together as though the moon ate them from the inside out.

Perhaps it did.
Perhaps the magic never really went away, and the Prata only hid its effects.

Because Sacha didn’t shapeshift, she didn’t understand the feeling of the Prata, but she

imagined it only leashed, rather than obliterated, the wolf inside.

Javier howled again, a deep and mournful cry, and his shoulders heaved against

the pyre. He appeared to be leaning over Sergio’s body, weeping on him. Another howl

tore from him, filling the whole valley with its anguish.

One of the hooded figures stepped forward, extending a lit torch. Javier’s wolfish

voice silenced and he stepped back from the pyre. The hooded figure moved to take

Javier’s place, walking with the torch in front of him like a sword. Javier turned his back

on the pyre.

The other were placed the small flame at the bottom of the pyre, which caught

quickly on fire.

Just as the fire started its spread, a commotion began among the circled weres.
“What’s going on?” Luc asked.
Sacha shook her head. “I don’t know. This isn’t part of any ritual I’ve seen.”
Several of the weres on the south side of the circle rushed toward the fiery pile of

wood, screeching in Spanish.

Luc grasped her arm. “What are they saying?”
But Sacha didn’t know. She’d forgotten her linguistor back on the ship. Besides, she

could barely make out coherent words from that distance.

Camryn Rhys

The weres who’d broken the circle approached the fire and stood just clear of the

flames, yelling at each other. Gradually, the whole pack collapsed on the pyre.

Sacha gasped, her heart in her throat. She tried to find the words to ask Luc if what

she saw was real, but could manage none.

From inside the circle, on top of the pile of burning logs, a formerly lifeless body

stood. The black form rose to its full height inside the flames, and discharged an ear-

splitting growl that Sacha would never confuse with the human incarnation, ever again.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a fully formed werewolf. But it was certainly the

first time she’d seen one come back from the dead.

* * * * *

Javier could feel Sacha out here in the wild. More than that, he’d been able to smell

her, as soon as he stepped out of the ship. And now, as the frenzy of weres collapsed on

one another in their grief, he could smell her fear.

He also smelled something foreign. Something no words could express. It was

almost like a human smell, but tinny and without origin. If anything, it suffocated the

smell of Sacha’s fear. Surely, a burning was an intense experience, but nothing to be

afraid of. They would burn Sergio’s body and leave the ashes, his spirit finally gone.

“Javier!” Vidal’s cry pierced the air, sharpening Javier’s senses. He whirled toward

the pyre and the sight choked any air from his lungs.

A fully shifted were stood in the middle of the fire and howled. Javier’s first thought

was that one of the Cordovan weres was desecrating the ceremony. But there was only

one body on the pyre, and it was definitely not dead.

“What happened?” Javier held Vidal’s arm, the heat of the silver bracelet under his

hand.

“I didn’t see it.”
“Is that Sergio?”
Before Vidal could answer, the huge black creature vaulted off the pyre and into the

mob of unshifted weres. The Cordovans wisely kept their distance. Those close to the

pyre froze. One of the younger weres raised his hand to pick at the Prata around his arm,

no doubt trying to find whatever release would put him in the moonlight and on equal

footing with his Barcelonan counterpart.

But he could not free himself from whatever spell the Prata held. None of them

could. Sergio’s shifted wolf crouched and howled in their midst. Javier couldn’t guess

what he would do next—shifted weres were unpredictable. But he knew one thing. It

would take all of them working together to capture him.

“Don’t crowd him,” Javier said.
The Cordovans who’d been slowly inching forward stopped. Some took a step or

two backward. No one took their eyes off the massive threat in their midst.

Airship Seduction

“He’ll spring before we can get to him.” Vidal spoke from Javier’s right, no doubt

sensing his plan. “We can’t wait.”

“If we all move at once…” Javier paused when a movement behind Vidal’s head,

across the clearing, caught his eye. Sergio’s wolf-head spun as well.

Then they all smelled it.
Fear. Very human fear.
“We must move.” Javier spread his arms, indicating the whole circle.
The entire group of men pounced at once. While human-shifted weres did not have

the supernatural remnants of their wolf-selves, they were generally stronger and better

prepared for battle than any human. And they sensed their brothers’ movements well,

even without communication.

Javier found this to be equally as true of his Cordovan cousins as it had been of his

Avinguda pack. They all moved as one animal.

Sergio, however, was a fully shifted full-moon were. Not the kind of half-human

shift they could accomplish when any moon was overhead. But the powerful,

unthinking, instinct-driven wolf without a man’s reserve.

He anticipated their movement and waited until they were close enough that he

could use them as a springboard to the wild. Sergio sailed over the row of attacking

weres and hit the open ground behind them, galloping for the woods.

The Cordovans turned as a unit and followed. Javier stood his ground, watching

the scene unfold, and sniffing the air for Sacha’s scent. Sergio had bolted toward the

human smell, which was not the same direction as Javier believed Sacha to be. Still, he

needed to find her.

From his left, behind a small copse of trees, Luc and Sacha emerged. A twist of

anger turned inside him at the sight of them together. But a surge of relief pushed it out,

knowing she was safe. And not in Sergio’s path.

He ran toward them, his heart pumping from more than the exertion of increased

speed. Javier wanted to hold her. To take her from Luc’s possession and keep her in his.

Her expression, as he approached, was as hungry as his.

“He’s not dead.” Javier felt immediately strange for stating the obvious, but with

Luc so close, didn’t know what else he could say.

“We saw it.” Sacha’s black hair had been pulled up into a more proper coif, but

running brought the knot of hair down and released some strands around her face and

neck. She looked unrealistically beautiful.

His relief at seeing her safe was suddenly overpowered by a deep frustration. “I

asked you to stay aboard the ship. This ceremony is sacred.”

“Wartime makes ceremony moot, Javier.” Luc’s heavy-lidded eyes narrowed on

him. “We have been charged with your safety. I wouldn’t think this was such a difficult

concept to grasp, given that you accepted our protection when you came on board the

Harbinger.”

Camryn Rhys

“I accepted no man’s protection.” Javier stepped toward Luc, daring the shorter

man to challenge him. “We ran for our life, and your ship happened to be the closest

safe haven.” At the presence of Sacha’s hand on his arm, he stopped advancing.

“Besides, I am at war with no man.”

“Well, they are at war with you,” Luc said. “You just don’t know it.”
Sacha stepped between them, the folds of her dress pressing against Luc’s black-

trousered legs. “I don’t believe this is an appropriate time for philosophical discussions.

There is a werewolf on the loose who’s supposed to be dead, and we have no way to

catch him.”

“On the contrary, my dear,” Luc sneered. He held up the heavy gun he’d been

toting, hefting it over his shoulder. “We have only to get within half a kilometer of the

wolf again, and I can stop him.”

Javier studied the gun. It was unlike any machine he’d ever seen before. The body

was at least four inches in diameter, and more than half a man’s height in length. The

metal had been painted black, for there were chips around the base that showed a much

lighter color, although he couldn’t place it.

“What is that?” he asked.
Luc stroked the long chamber with one very white hand. His long fingers closed

around the girth. “It’s Resistance-issue. Not for civilians.”

Sacha eyed Luc narrowly. “It’s for subduing magical creatures.” She pointed

toward the retreating Cordovans. “Speaking of which, we should give chase.”

Luc nodded across the darkening space. Near the horizon, the moon went behind a

large, dense cloud, and shadows claimed the landscape.

“He will turn back now, yes?” Sacha’s eager gaze turned to Javier. He wanted to

smooth the hair from her face, but rolled his shoulder instead.

“In a full moon, a were doesn’t need the light to change.”
“Chax and Angus will have one of these,” Luc patted his large gun, “and since the

wolf headed in their direction, it should be only a matter of moments until they have

him under control.”

“Bullets will not stop him,” Javier insisted.
Luc grabbed Sacha’s arm and pulled her along into step with him. “They aren’t

using bullets.”

Javier followed. They avoided the still-burning pyre, which provided the only light

to the full dark of night.

“It’s a special compound.” Sacha turned her head toward Javier, as Luc continued

to force her into walking with him. “It will stun him, but not kill him.”

“Chax will fell him quick. She’s a fast shot.”
Javier remembered the catshifter and imagined her quick movements with one of

Luc’s guns. Any human, no matter what their capabilities, would be a rough match for

Sergio. He doubted she could stop a fully shifted werewolf.

Airship Seduction

Sacha wrenched herself from Luc’s grip with a sour look and matched her gait to

Javier’s. Her earnest brown eyes met his and she grasped his hand. “Sergio will be

fine.”

“I’m not worried about Sergio.” Javier tried to keep his voice steely, although the

pressure of her skin on his made his blood rush. “What I want to know is how in the

name of God he is still alive.”

* * * * *

When Sacha broke through the werewolf ranks, she expected to see Chax and

Angus standing over the still body of a wolf. But the center of the circle was empty.

“Have we interrupted something?” Luc stalked over to Chax. “Where is the wolf?”
Sacha went to Chax’s side and squeezed her friend’s shoulder. The wiry catshifter

shrugged her hand off.

“I missed him.”
“It’s all right, Chax. We’ll find him.”
“Not likely,” Luc said. “A shifted wolf can cover forty kilometers in an hour. If he’s

not in top shape, it might take him until the morning to reach Breziers. If he is, he’ll

make Narbonne.”

“Assuming that he returns to Barcelona,” said Angus.
The circle of weres swelled with comments. None of which she understood, of

course, because she’d forgotten her linguistor. Never again, Sacha.

She sensed Javier at her elbow and reached back for his hand. If this had been a

week previous, and it had been Luc’s hand she reached for, he would have pushed her

off, awkwardly. But Javier clasped her hand in his. The heat of his flesh warmed her

against the cold night.

When she shivered, he pulled her into his side. That gave her a shiver of an entirely

different kind.

“What are they saying?” she asked.
Javier leaned into her bare neck and whispered. “They agreed with Luc. That a

shifted wolf is too fast for us to chase.” The feel of his breath reminded her of their

intimacy, of his mouth on other parts of her. She wanted nothing more than to fall to the

ground with him at that moment.

But one look at his tormented face said he wasn’t feeling the same. Javier’s

unfocused eyes glazed over. He might have been planning, or plotting, grieving. Other

than a jumble of images which would be hard to interpret, she wouldn’t be able to

understand his Spanish thoughts.

It pained her to admit this, but she didn’t like to have to ask what people were

thinking in order to comfort them. She always just knew. Asking him outright made her

feel too vulnerable.

Camryn Rhys

Instead, she squeezed his hand harder.
“Well, something has to be done,” Angus said. “There’s a werewolf on the loose in

unfamiliar country. It’s been dead for nearly a day, and is probably hungry.”

“And it’s our fault.” Luc paced in front of Chax, watching Sacha with wary eyes. “I

should have known this would happen.”

“You couldn’t know the wolf lived.” Chax reached for Luc’s hand and twined her

fingers around his. Such a simple gesture, and yet it set something off inside Sacha.

“No one is at fault.” Sacha leaned into Javier’s warmth, seeking a reprieve from the

anger that twisted inside her. She didn’t take her eyes off Chax’s fingers stroking Luc’s.

She considered for a moment that she could simply read the catshifter’s thoughts,

except that she’d promised Luc she wouldn’t.

It was one of the conditions of her entrance into the Resistance. She would only use

her Empath powers when necessary, and never on her crew. Luc was right. No one

would trust her if they knew she would read their minds at a moment’s notice.

But it would have come in awfully handy right then.
“Someone is at fault.” Chax flipped her gaze to Javier.
Luc’s eyes followed, locking on Javier’s face. “If you had followed my orders, we

wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

Sacha stepped toward Luc, putting her body between his and Javier’s. “You’d

rather he murdered one of his own than inconvenience us? What has gotten into you,

Luc?”

“We’re never going to catch him, Sacha.” Luc’s brown eyes went that fierce black

color again. “He’s got a head start and he’s shifted. None of us can match that. Our only

chance is to find him when he turns back.”

Javier’s hand tensed in hers. Sacha didn’t dare step back to his side, lest Luc mistake

it as an offer to pounce. She chanced a push into his mind.

Luc’s anger at Javier filled every corner of his thoughts. A few pieces of Italian, then

a careful curse in English. He knows I’m in here. Sacha pulled back and stepped into

Javier’s chest. His strength centered her.

“We can’t catch him in the dark,” Vidal said. He stood behind Luc, but spoke to

Javier, who must have made a gesture, because Vidal nodded. “Not with the moon.”

“Can you take these off?” Javier held his arm up so the Prata was in her peripheral

vision.

“No.” Luc and Chax spoke as one. But Luc hunted down Sacha’s gaze. He locked

on to her with dark, tight eyes. “Sacha. You can’t.”

“But if they could catch him…”
“They won’t catch him. He’s got ten minutes head start.” Chax stood, releasing

Luc’s hand. “One loose lupis on the night of a full moon, no. Even if he can think

enough to catch the other wolf, we can’t be certain they won’t turn on us and kill us

all.”

Airship Seduction

Luc nodded. “Not to mention all the innocent people we’d be endangering, and the

creatures on the Ark.” At that last word, Luc’s eyes narrowed. He apparently hadn’t

meant to say that. It was a word Sacha hadn’t heard to reference the Harbinger. While

appropriate, given the nature of their mission, it struck her as odd.

The circle of weres grew restless, grumbling. Vidal took their cue. He stepped out of

the circle, coming closer to Luc and baring his teeth. “If you won’t release us, then what

will you let us do?”

“We’re not keeping you prisoner,” Chax said. “We saved you!” Her catlike eyes

glistened with challenge.

Vidal shrugged, the colorful tattoos on his arms rippled in the emerging moonlight.

Each of the weres, in turn, closed their eyes and let the soft glow wash over them. Sacha

wondered if Javier did the same thing. It was still strange to think of him as a were, even

though she’d seen him begin to shift in front of her eyes in Barcelona.

Luc waved his arm to take in the circle of weres. “You can certainly traipse all over

the earth as you are.” For the first time, he looked at Angus. His normally severe

expression softened. “Angus and I will go after him when the moon sets fully.”

“That won’t matter tonight,” Vidal said. “Or for the next three days.”
“The full moon.” Javier’s voice was quiet, solid. Almost as if he’d forgotten and

Vidal’s comment reminded him his entire life revolved around this celestial object.

“He’ll be able to shift in and out of wolf form at will. And since he’s so young, it’s

likely he can’t control his wolf. Most of us didn’t learn that before twenty.” Vidal

grasped the Prata on his forearm, and the flesh surrounding it went red, almost like a

sunburn. “If you don’t send us after him, he’ll terrorize the countryside, and you’ll

surely never see him again.”

“That is not an option.” Luc’s voice was stiff and deep. Had he been a werewolf, he

might have growled, as some of the weres in the circle did.

Their alpha hushed them with the slice of his strong arm through the air.
“We’ll talk about this on board,” Sacha said.
Vidal’s nostrils flared as he faced Luc, but he stepped away while Luc held his

ground as the other weres followed. Only Javier remained behind with the crew, stoic

and silent behind Sacha.

Luc took her arm and pulled her in as the last of the weres filed past them. “There’s

no need to discuss it anymore, Sacha. We’re not removing the Pratae, no matter what.

Our orders are clear.”

Sacha hissed, “I don’t think their intention was to—”
“It’s not our responsibility to divine the intentions of our orders. Only to follow

them. Without question.” His long face hovered so emotionless before hers. It infuriated

her that Luc would so quickly dismiss her opinion.

Camryn Rhys

The temptation to read his mind was so overwhelming, she had to wrench out of

his grip for fear of doing it unintentionally. “Our responsibility is to these creatures first,

not to some stuffed shirt who gave you orders months ago.”

Luc drew himself up to full height, looking down on her with fierce authority. “I

am still the captain of this crew.”

Sacha straightened, as well, anger rising in her throat. “This is my airship.”
“I,” Luc paused, drawing a thin breath, “am the captain of this crew.” Luc’s arm

extended past her, toward Javier, and he leaned toward her, mere inches from her face.

“The fact that you’re rutting with this animal clouds your judgment.”

In an instant, the broad-shouldered were stood between them, a low growl

sounding from deep inside. He shifted his weight from side to side, flexing his hands.

“You speak to her with respect. She is not some expendable streetwalker you can

abuse as you like.” Javier’s chest expanded with quiet breath as he waited for Luc to

respond. “Captain or not, you treat a lady with respect.”

Luc glowered at Javier, sizing him up with angry eyes. “You think she’s a lady, and

I respect your…naïveté. But you’ll soon learn that the welcome into her bed isn’t a

choice invitation.” At Javier’s deeper growl, Luc sneered. “Don’t waste your anger on

me, you’ve got no competition in that area.”

Luc’s dark gaze drifted back to Sacha and a slow smile transformed his face into an

almost distorted visage. “One whore’s bed is as good as another.”

Airship Seduction

Chapter Nine

“You shouldn’t have hit him.”
Javier scowled at the floor, cradling his fist to his chest. The blinding rage that had

come over him in the clearing still hadn’t fully subsided. He was just glad, for Luc’s

sake, that Vidal and the other Cordovans had been back on the ship before they heard

his comments about Sacha.

His heart expanded. When the man had said those things about Sacha, he just

couldn’t control himself. There was nothing on this earth that would have kept him

from hitting Luc. In fact, it had only been because Sacha stopped him that he held back

from breaking the bastard’s neck.

“I won’t allow anyone to speak of you that way.”
Javier still hadn’t looked at Sacha since she’d brought him to her quarters and sat

him down on the bed. The sight of her luscious white skin and dark, slightly messy hair

made conflicting emotions rise inside him.

He wanted to shake her. To release his anger about the situation they found

themselves in. But a bigger part of him wanted to hold her and kiss her and make love

to her for days on end.

If they’d been in Barcelona, before all this, that’s what he would have done. But in

the tenseness of this new situation, he was tempted toward the former choice. She could

do with a good shaking, anyway. Shake some sense into that head of hers.

“Aren’t you going to answer me?”
Javier shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed to a spot on the floor that avoided all

parts of her in his direct or peripheral vision. For now.

“You made a statement, Sacha. Those generally require no answer.”
She placed one hand on his knee, but he jerked away. The sensation of desire that

even her nearness brought overwhelmed him. He needed to think straight.

“You don’t have to be so angry.”
Javier seethed. The very thought of Luc’s hands on her made an uncontrollable

anger throttle his senses. But the idea that the bastard would discard her so easily,

throw her aside like a piece of trash, produced an anger almost as devastating.

The dull throb where Luc’s teeth had connected with his hand kept Javier in the

moment. Every time he inched into thoughts of Sacha, he focused in hard on that pain,

and it made the whole world dissolve.

This was how his people coped with loss. Pain leads to revenge.

Camryn Rhys

“My anger comforts me.” Javier flexed his fingers, watching the two reddening

patches where Luc’s teeth had torn skin from his hand. “This is how it should be.”

“I don’t need anyone to get angry for me.” Sacha stood, the back of her half-long

dress swaying with her movements. “I can take care of myself.”

“No, my dear. That you cannot.” Javier’s laugh bordered on a snort, and he saw the

frustration edge into her features, crimping her brow and drawing her lips together.

“Oh really?”
“If a man doesn’t stand up for you, you are nothing to him.” Javier clenched a fist

and pressed it to his chest. “It’s how you know what you mean to us.”

“It’s quite barbaric, if you ask me.” Sacha moved toward him, dragging her fingers

up his arm in an invitation. “There are much more interesting ways to show me what I

mean to you.”

Javier pushed off her touch, trying to keep focused on the anger. “You will not

distract me, Sacha. I mean to stand up for you, even if you will not stand up for

yourself.”

Sacha laughed, taking a step back. Then another. Her slow, deliberate movements

puzzled Javier. Their precision spoke of some larger strategy, one which he would not

allow himself to be caught up in.

“When will Luc and Angus leave?”
“I’ve asked Luc to come here so we can talk about Elias.”
Javier arched an eyebrow. “The boy we found? You’ve not told him yet?”
“We’ve been…busy.” She sank into the chair, which was deceptively deep for such

a small seat. Her body seemed to keep going until he thought she might fall straight

through to the floor. “I wanted to wait until after we’d dealt with the werewolf corpse,

which of course, isn’t yet finished. But now it seems like we should tell Luc. And then

the whole crew.”

“Then, they will leave?”
“Not until the sun rises, I would imagine.” She pulled a pocket watch from the

folds of her dress and flipped it open. “Another four hours or so. Why?”

Javier calculated how far Sergio could travel in four hours. He didn’t know the

terrain of France, having never been here before, but there weren’t many places in Spain

that a werewolf couldn’t reach after a night of hard running. France would likely be the

same.

“How long will we be docked here?”
“Until they return, or Sergio does. Or both.” Her eyes drilled into his. She was

saying, of course, that they might have to kill him. He doubted Luc could singe the hair

on Sergio’s coat, let alone kill the boy.

“We still haven’t talked about the obvious, Sacha.”

Airship Seduction

She sat forward and flexed her shoulders, making her cleavage press up against the

confines of her too-small bodice. “Being interrupted by Luc?”

The reminder of their intimacy sent a warm sensation coursing through him. He

shook his head, trying to re-center himself. “Sergio is alive.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I want to know why he lives.”
Sacha walked to the bed and sat beside him. The mattress sank beneath their

weight. Before he could protest, she slid her hand along the side of his face. “I thought

we agreed not to talk about philosophy.”

Javier closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Her hand was so soft against his

shadowed jaw, and so enticing with its scent of still-ripening grasses from the meadow.

“How can you not want to know?”
Sacha exhaled, and the sweetness of her breath caressed him. “I’ve learned, in this

fight, that some things you’re better off not knowing.” Her eyes shadowed and dropped

to her lap. “Some questions, you shouldn’t answer.”

Javier’s heartbeat normalized when her hand left his face.
“I have never wanted to unknow the answer to any question.” His voice was deep,

certain, steady.

Sacha swallowed and turned her head, exposing her neck. The pulse of her heart

catapulted as her eyes closed. “Would that you never have to know this feeling, then.

There’s none other quite like it.” Something had her heart racing, her nostrils flaring,

and Javier couldn’t help his curiosity.

“You’re sad, carina. Why?”
She shook her head and another tendril of hair came loose, spilling down her bared

neck. “I want to trust you, Javier. To tell you things.” Her eyes met his, wide and dark.

“But the mage told me to test my lovers carefully.”

Javier traced his finger over her round, pink lips. “We are lovers, then?”
Sacha’s back straightened, thrusting her breasts toward him. An unconscious move,

perhaps the shock of his blunt question, but it said more to him than her words could.

She leaned into him and pressed her lips against his. Javier sat back, allowing her to

be the aggressor, and relished the feel of her weight against him. She climbed into his

lap and the bunch of fabric that ended her short dress pushed into his navel. While

Sacha continued to kiss him, he tried to wade through the fabric of her dress.

He leaned his head away long enough to ask, “Will this help you to trust me,

carina? If we are intimate again?”

The question seemed to stun her more than encourage her. She sat up and put a

hand in her dark hair. The innocent look on her face, coupled with the open and

recently kissed pink of her lips did nothing to abate his desire for her.

But he could tell, by the pallor of her face, that it abated hers.

Camryn Rhys

“Why do you ask me this?”
He studied her, searching for an answer. An overwhelming sense of unexplainable

protectiveness came over him, not unlike what he’d felt hovering over an unconscious

body in the meadow. “I am not Luc.”

Her features softened and a glaze of unshed tears welled in her eyes. “I cannot

explain Luc.”

“You don’t need to explain anything. Men like that always treat women as

expendable.” Javier reached across the distance she’d created and touched her cheek,

where a tear had fallen. “You are not a toy or a trifle.”

Sacha fell against him, her mouth slanting on his, her tongue searching and hot. The

instant she entered his mouth, Javier felt his erection begin to grow and a sense of

anticipation pooled in his chest.

As she moved on him, Javier relaxed into her dominance. He loved the spark in her,

her ambition, even if it was currently centered on his cock. He slid his hands up her

back, pulling her even closer to him and reveling in the pressure of her breasts against

his chest.

He would need to unfasten all her clothing again to get at them. What an arduous

process, wading through all her warrior’s accoutrements. Javier smiled as he found the

line of hooks and began the process.

“Something tickles you?” she asked.
“Your clothing. Such a hindrance.” He leaned forward and kissed the tiny flash of

exposed skin on her rib cage.

“There’s no need for hindrance between us tonight.” She pressed her breasts

toward his face and leaned down to find the front of his trousers. The rough material

prickled against his cock and he gasped when she made short work of freeing it.

Sacha fisted him roughly, her mouth hovering over his, her dark eyes watching his.

With her other hand, she reached between her own legs and panted into his kiss. She

scooted forward until he could feel wetness on the head of his erection. His hands went

quickly to her hips, steadying her, almost stopping her.

For just a moment, Javier could feel the wolf inside, tearing at his skin, begging to

be released, to be in control. Not unlike his cock, which seemed to need to be inside her,

the wolf was insistent, almost clawing.

And then the plunge. When he felt the edge of her stretch for him, he held her

down and found her eyes closed. Part of him wanted to force them open, to see what

she felt in this moment. But he also appreciated her being lost. She moved on top of

him, propelling herself away from him, and then back.

The tiny space between her lips expanded with an indrawn breath and Javier

couldn’t help thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Sacha’s moan fueled him.

Airship Seduction

So many feelings crowded at once, but the wolf was always the most resolute. This

writhing wasn’t enough for the animal inside. He wanted to pound into her, to replace

those contented moans with whimpers of surprise and desire.

But at the same time, he couldn’t treat her like an animal. Not when her trust was so

tenuous. If at all.

Javier sat as still as he could manage, fighting the beast, allowing Sacha to do what

she would, and hoping the exquisite torture would be the catalyst for her surrender.

It felt positively sinful to have a man buried inside her while neither of them were

naked. She missed the feel of him, of skin on skin, but this was perhaps better. Sacha

could feel nothing except the hard rod inside, and her own slick wetness urging him

onward.

She kissed him languorously, relishing this moment. They’d known each other such

a short time, and yet she felt as though she’d been waiting for this moment all her life.

Javier stiffened against her, though not in orgasm. The earnest look on his

handsome face made her want to kiss him again, but she held back, studying. Her

fingers sought out his hands, and she happened to graze the Prata in her search. It

seared her and she cried out.

“Carina!” He took her face in his hands. “What’s wrong?”
“The Prata.” She held her scorched fingers, then stuck one in her mouth. “It’s like

fire.”

He brushed his fingertips over the silver bracelet and winced. “I’m sorry, carina.”

Then, looking at her fingers, he stretched his neck and took them in his mouth. He

sucked on them until she couldn’t feel the burn any longer.

She continued to ride him as he ministered to her, and when he finally released

them from his mouth, he put his own fingertip into its hot depths. “I will make you

forget the fire, carina.”

Javier reached beneath the folds of her dress and found her clitoris with alarming

swiftness. She almost jumped at the slick pressure of his finger on her, even as she held

his cock inside.

He urged her into a rhythm so that she was riding him. The upswing brought a

beautiful pressure from his thick cock, and the downswing found his finger pressing

against her clit.

It wasn’t long before she was crying out in her ecstasy, and she collapsed against

him as she finished, but he still hadn’t come. She wasn’t used to this. Typically, her

lovers took what they could get, and her pleasure was an afterthought. Just the

difference between them and Javier made her corral her disobedient limbs and find

whatever strength she had left in her to take him through his orgasm.

She found more speed, and soon, he was grasping at her, holding her while he cried

out, burying his face in her fully clothed bosom. Just the promise of his mouth near her

Camryn Rhys

nipples made her arch her back to offer them to him, but her dress both muffled his

ecstasy and covered hers.

Sacha made a mental note to do this again soon. Naked next time.
When Javier had recovered, he slid from her and positioned her so she was resting

on the pillow. He pulled up her blanket, the warmth returned.

“You should get some sleep,” he said. “We’ll need to go back out in a few hours.”
She reached for his face and felt the scruff tickle her palm. “You’re not going to

stay?”

“I should find Vidal and get some sleep myself.”
Sacha turned toward him, knowing full well her cleavage would pop over the top

of her dress. “You could stay here. We could…find other ways to pass the time.”

Javier’s dark eyes dipped to the front of her dress and he laughed. “I don’t want to

pass time, carina. I want you to get some sleep and I’m wide awake now.”

Her heart sank for a moment and she debated whether to pull him down into bed

with her, or let him go. In the end, she couldn’t keep him somewhere he didn’t want to

be, regardless.

“I suppose I could sleep.”
“I’ll be back for you before we go after Sergio.”
Javier leaned in to kiss her and she thought about turning her head. But she let him

have her lips. Her limbs and eyes were, indeed, heavier than they had been before the

sex, but part of her wanted to stay awake just to spite Javier.

He walked across the room. “Sleep well, Sacha. And quickly. There may not be

much time for sleep after tonight.”

She closed her eyes and puzzled at the statement. Her first instinct was to push

inside his mind and read whatever was hidden there, but she’d made him a promise. So

the Empath was relegated to puzzling out the meanings of cryptic sentences, just like

some human being. What an annoyance.

Airship Seduction

Chapter Ten

Javier set off in search of Vidal and the Cordovans, and instead found a cluster of

the French vampires crowding the hallway near Sacha’s clock door. He recognized one

of them from earlier.

“André,” he said.
The tallest of the vampires looked in his direction, over the cluster of his compadres.

His face read shock, and it was more than Javier’s sudden appearance that prompted it.

“Tell me, are you coming from Miss Sacha’s boudoir?” The note of condescension in

his voice made the hair on Javier’s neck stand on end.

“What of it?”
André laughed, in that sort of foppish way that vampires laugh when they find

something funny that entirely isn’t. “Oh, my boy. I meant no disrespect to you, or to the

lovely mistress. I simply was inquiring as to her whereabouts.”

“She’s sleeping.”
“I’m sure she is.” The innuendo in André’s voice practically grew fists and smacked

Javier across the face.

The wolf in him growled, deep and low. A few of the nearer vampires bared their

fangs in an almost pained gesture, as though it was a subconscious reaction to Javier’s

presence that they weren’t at all happy with.

“Again, I meant no disrespect. Sacha Camomescro saved our lives. We wish her

nothing but the…utmost…happiness.” Again, André’s voice was laced with innuendo,

and Javier could feel his patience begin to snap.

“Why do you need her?”
“We have, I believe, a bit of a problem.” André glanced around at his pack of

fanged ones, and there was an unspoken communication that Javier couldn’t quite pick

up on. “I’m unwilling to go to the captain with this, for fear that he will, how shall we

say it, mishandle this sensitive information, given how he responded to your little

mishap with your brother werewolf.”

“I wouldn’t call it a mishap.” Javier fought to keep control of his temper. Lack of

sleep was catching up with him. He needed to relax, and he needed it now. “But I’ll

forgive you that. For now.”

One of the shorter vampires who’d been cowering in the back said something in

insistent French and André shrugged his shoulders.

“Yes, it is a bit of a time-sensitive issue. Do you happen to know how long we will

be docked in Avignon?”

Camryn Rhys

Javier studied the short vampire in the back. He seemed to be built more like a

werewolf. Stocky, muscular, less angular in feature, and more swarthy than the pasty

cult of bloodsuckers. Javier wanted to know what the short vampire had said that made

André cut through the flowery show to get to the point.

“At least through the night. There will be a search party going out in the morning.”
André’s face registered the same shock as it had when Javier first approached.

“Then they know?”

“About Sergio? Yes.”
“No, no.” André spoke in French and the other vampires nodded. Apart from the

short, dark one in back, they all seemed to be of one mind about everything. “Not about

your were brother. Although, we express our sympathy for you, in deepest measure.”

“What are you worried about Luc discovering, André?” Javier’s patience wore

almost through, and he had to fight to keep the growl out of his voice. Vampires and

werewolves weren’t natural enemies, like some in the culture would have people

believe, but they weren’t exactly common allies, either. And these particular vampires

seemed jumpier than your average bloodsucker.

“We have a tiny problem.” André’s pale face crumpled into frustration. “I really

must speak with Miss Sacha.”

Javier crossed his arms and filled the corridor to her bedroom. “She is asleep. How

can I help you?”

“Well, you see. We have a slight problem.”
“Stop rambling, André.” The short, swarthy vampire strode to the front of the pack

and stood in front of Javier, matching his body language exactly. Although he was

neither as tall nor as strong as Javier, he made a much more impressive picture when

out from behind the other vampires.

The vampire scanned Javier from head to toe, settling at last on the Prata that

encircled his forearm, and exhaling. “What André is saying rather poorly is that we

need your help.”

* * * * *

Sacha had been asleep less than an hour when Javier was at her bedside again. She

would have been pleasantly surprised, except he’d brought company.

There were certain magical creatures that Sacha preferred over others. And certain

ones that she would rather not cross paths with. The vampires were among the latter.

They weren’t particularly dangerous, at least not with the wooden Prata that each had

donned upon boarding the Harbinger. The most they could do was bare their fangs. Of

course, they still had unseemly predilections, thus the event with the pixie.

But Sacha didn’t avoid them because of their danger. She avoided them because

they were excessively annoying. Vampires were the toddlers of the magic world. They

Airship Seduction

required a good deal more work than they were worth, and made a great deal more

noise than they should.

One at a time, they could be tolerated. But all in a group like this? This was going to

be a much longer night than she initially anticipated.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Javier stared her down with that earnest, hopeful look he always wore. “I’m so

sorry to wake you, carina.”

His deep voice made her whole body heat as if she were next to a roaring fire.

Under the blanket, her toes curled, and inside her chest, something pressed at her heart.

“Don’t worry, Javier. But why is André here? And the rest of the vampires, I can

feel them.”

“It seems we’ve misplaced a vampire.”
She fought the urge to burst into laughter. But after losing Sergio, and with the way

André’s face scrunched up as if he might be fighting back tears, she was relatively

certain that laughter wouldn’t be tolerated by either of the men at her bedside.

“Oh, André.” She held her hand out to him, pretending empathy. Secretly, she was

certain they had done no such thing. No one loses vampires. Lord knew she’d been

trying to lose them ever since she picked them up, with no luck. “Who is it? Jean?

William?”

“No, no, no. This is precisely why I knew we must find you. It is not one of the

young ones. Or someone reckless. We would not even have come, but…” André’s eyes

glazed over. Sacha had to intentionally not roll her own. The man was a basket case

about a ripped seam in his clothing. He would be inconsolable no matter who it was.

“It’s Gabrielle.” From behind André, she recognized Lucien’s voice. Then, the

shorter vampire appeared. Dressed in his customary blue frock coat, Lucien’s calming

presence balanced out André’s hysterics. Except it was his sister that was lost. He, of all

the vampires, should be the most distraught.

Yet he seemed to be encountering no more than a polite annoyance. His demeanor

was as it always had been. Reserved.

Sacha hadn’t yet gathered the entire story of Lucien’s and Gabrielle’s relationship to

the other vampires. But their physical appearance was closer to her own—to the Gypsy

people—than to the angular, lanky Frenchmen. Because vampires were notoriously

cautious about who they turned, Sacha hadn’t ever probed André for more details.

But the gossip she’d heard around the dinner table hadn’t been good.
And Gabrielle had always been a little strange. Not quite all there, if one could be

said to seem completely normal and yet absolutely abnormal at the same time. Her eyes

never focused, although Sacha knew she could see. And she never spoke, except in

hushed tones to Lucien, who spoke French marvelously and without an accent.

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But his English held just the faintest hint of Romany, and Sacha had always been

curious about the pair. One of these days, she would ask questions first and form search

parties later.

“I’m so sorry, Lucien,” she said.
André took a step farther into the room, his tone emphatic, his gestures

overwrought. “We have searched the boat. Completely.”

“I’m sure there are places we could still look.” Sacha stood and re-clasped the side

of her dress, discarding the woolen blanket.

“How long has she been missing?” Javier asked, taking up position behind her.
“No one’s seen her since before we landed,” André said. “We noticed her gone after

the werewolves returned.”

That had been hours ago. Sacha stepped toward André and Lucien. “Why didn’t

you find us as soon as you noticed her gone?”

“You were,” Andre paused to glance from Sacha back to Javier, “otherwise

engaged.”

Any other day, Sacha might have been appalled at his insinuation, but he was right.

This insatiable desire to have Javier’s eyes and hands on her at all times was distracting.

And worst of all, it kept her from being on top of her job.

Her job.
To find these magical refugees and protect them. She wasn’t doing a very good job

of protecting Gabrielle while she had Javier’s face between her legs, good as it felt.

Appropriately chastised, she pushed Javier to the side. “We’ll start a complete

sweep of the ship, from the deck out. When we get to the hold, we’ll split—”

“We’ve searched the entire ship already.” The slightly tinged Romanian English

betrayed a hint of frustration.

This was not André’s over-dramatics. If Lucien said they’d searched the entire ship,

he meant it. Perhaps, if he’d only employed other vampires, the job may not have been

as thorough as Sacha would have liked. But it likely had been done.

Lucien’s frustrated voice was louder, as though he’d crossed the room, or decided

she couldn’t hear him. “We haven’t been in the captain’s quarters, or yours. But I can’t

think why she’d be in either place.”

André slumped into the chair in the corner and Lucien paced in front of the closet.

She crossed her room and placed a hand on Lucien’s forearm, catching a warm bit of

the wooden Prata under her skin. “We will find Gabrielle. Make no mistake.”

“I hope so, because she’s never been on her own.” Lucien’s eyebrows furrowed.

“She doesn’t know how to survive.”

“So we’re assuming she’s left the ship.” Javier pushed off the wall, ready for action.
Sacha turned to him, releasing Lucien’s arm. “One of us surely would have spotted

her if she’d gotten off the ship during the mourning ritual.”

Airship Seduction

“Not if she managed to sneak off after the shifting.” Javier’s eyes glazed over and

he gazed into the middle distance. “We were a bit distracted.”

“So we start off the ship.”
Lucien nodded. “I don’t know why she’d leave me. But I have a bad feeling she’s

gone not of her own free will.”

“You think someone kidnapped her?” Sacha’s mind whirled for a moment. This

was an entirely different situation than a hazy girl getting lost in a big ship on her own

and wandering outside. The presence of force would mean that someone on the ship—

someone she trusted—had deceived her, and committed a crime under her nose.

“Remember the boy.” Javier’s words sank deep. She’s been meaning to talk to Luc

and the crew about Elias’ murder. But it never seemed like the right time. What the

“right time” looked like, she didn’t know.

Although Javier was right. Elias had been lured away and murdered. It wasn’t

entirely out of the realm of possibility that the same thing that ate him had also

kidnapped and potentially killed Gabrielle.

“What boy?” Lucien looked between Javier and Sacha, his bright eyes big and

questioning. “There’s been another disappearance?”

“No,” Sacha said, firmly. It was the truth, and yet it wasn’t. But she didn’t want to

alarm anyone just yet.

“Are we going to search for her, or stand her pontificating while my sweet Gabrielle

could be out in the wilderness being torn apart by wild dogs at this very moment?”

André’s voice ratcheted up an octave with each horrifying twist.

Javier grabbed Sacha’s hand and pulled at her. “If we go now, we can beat the

moon setting. Even with the Prata, I am better with the moon out.”

“As are we,” André agreed, at last back to his normal voice.
“Then let’s not waste another moment.” Sacha allowed Javier to drag her from her

room and into the corridor. While she hoped they would not find Gabrielle out in the

dark wilderness of the French countryside, she prayed even more that if they did find

the girl, she would at least be alive.

* * * * *

André and his queue of vampires weren’t the best grunt workers, and Javier wished

more than once that he could go back and enlist the Cordovans, leaving the vampires

on the ship to fold handkerchiefs or write operas or something equally silly. Because

silliness seemed to be their primary mode of operation.

The only one worth any salt was Lucien, the disappeared girl’s “brother”. Although

Javier had never met Gabrielle or Lucien before this evening, he doubted they were

truly brother and sister. The young vampire behaved like an abandoned lover, and

barely gave Sacha a second glance. Ever.

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No unfettered male in his right mind would be able to ignore Sacha. Perhaps even

the fettered or the crazy would be consumed with her every movement, breath and

thought as he was. She certainly made him feel insane.

“Stay in sight of us.” Sacha’s voice pierced his thoughts, and he found his eyes

drawn to her again. Her black hair fell about her shoulders and provided sharp contrast

to her creamy skin in the moonlight. The open neck of her short dress plunged to her

cleavage and reminded Javier of his fantasy of tasting her. So much had happened,

although in his mind, not enough of it had been naked.

“André!” Sacha yelled.
The vampire and two of his silly friends had disappeared down the bank of the

river again. Sacha turned and walked straight toward the spot they’d last been seen, but

Lucien stopped her with a solid hand.

“Let me handle them.” The short, stocky man released his grip on Sacha’s arm and

Javier realized he’d clenched both of his fists in response only as he relaxed his own

hands.

He shouldn’t let another man touching her bother him so. But truth be told, he

couldn’t help it. Even in passing.

“We’re wasting valuable time every time we go after them,” Sacha called after

Lucien’s jogging form. She turned to Javier and he saw the frustration creasing her

forehead. “It would have been so much simpler if we could have brought Vidal and

taken Lucien, and left these unruly morons behind.”

“I had the same thought moments ago.” Javier pulled her toward him and

smoothed a stray lock of hair away from her face. “This would be a much more pleasant

experience without the vampires.”

“Or if it were just the two of us.” Sacha slipped her hands around his waist. Their

bodies pressed together and Javier’s heartbeat increased. He wanted to peel the clothes

from her body and have his way with her right there on the grass.

“But that wouldn’t lead to a successful search.”
Sacha’s laugh was musical, light. “But it would be extremely satisfying.”
Javier shook his head and took her face between his hands. “What is this between

us, carina? This heat?”

Sacha’s brown eyes searched his, but she bit her lip as if holding something back.
“I don’t need an answer, Sacha. But I do have my opinions.”
“I’m not sure we should be having this discussion here, in the open, surrounded by

vampires.” Sacha glanced up at the moon, now starting its descent toward the western

horizon. “And you’re not yourself here.”

Insinuating, perhaps, that the moon made him want her more? He had no idea of

the Prata’s control over his wolf nature, but he could feel the difference when the

moonlight touched his skin, even if it was only the memory of the change.

Airship Seduction

He didn’t need the moon to want Sacha. Although it didn’t hurt. And the thought

of plunging inside her warm body underneath the wide, white moon sent a frisson of

electric energy through his blood.

Sacha’s warm blush reminded him that she could see the pictures in his mind, even

if she couldn’t understand the words. She pulled him closer.

Just as he was contemplating kissing her, Lucien’s voice rang back toward them.
“I think they’ve found something.”
Javier took Sacha’s hand and they all raced to the bank. The vampires that had been

searching the western side of the island rushed behind them. The moonlight provided

all the sight they needed, until the edge of the bank.

Down the eastern side of the bank, dark reclaimed the ground. Javier couldn’t see

his way down, and stopped just behind Lucien at the edge of the bank.

“What’s down there?”
The stocky vampire put his full back to the moonlight and pointed down the ridge.

“Can you see that path?”

There was indeed a bit of an indentation just down the side of the bank. It would

have been just walkable for someone with very sure footing. Javier was surprised

André and his silly friends had gotten down safely. Although he still couldn’t see well

enough to know that they weren’t floating down the river after falling down the bank.

One could always wish.
Javier pulled at Lucien’s plain blue coat as the short vampire moved to descend to

the river side. “I can’t see to the bottom.”

“Once you get out of the moon’s light, your sight will improve.” Lucien edged

down the path with careful steps.

Javier turned to Sacha, hoping she wasn’t of a mind to follow. “Can you keep an

eye out for predators?”

Her eyes narrowed and she swept the landscape quickly. “We can leave the

vampires here to keep lookout.”

“They need someone to keep an eye on them.” He kissed her nose. “Someone with

some power. Just in case.”

Sacha sighed. “I know when I’m being left behind, Javier.” She crossed her arms

and tapped long fingers against the smooth black fabric covering her arm. “I don’t like

it.”

“You don’t need to like it.” Javier put one foot on the trail. “I don’t need to like it. I

just think we need to do it.” He mimicked Sacha’s scan of their moonlit surroundings.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“So you’re leaving me up here to handle it?”
He shook his head and glanced back at the dark path down to the river. The

shadow of the bank covered the whole scene in black, almost to the middle of the river

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itself, where the water picked up the moon’s sparkle after the obstacle cleared. “I have a

bad feeling about all of it.”

The rocks under his feet weren’t as unstable as he’d expected. He was able to walk

in an almost natural gait down the side of the bank once he got the first few steps out of

the way. And Lucien was right, once he got down almost to the base of the bank and

the moon hid behind it, he could see a lot better.

André, Lucien and two other vampires stood on the sloped ground that led to the

river. This was the only place where the river didn’t follow the line of the bank above. A

flat piece of land stuck out away from the bank, like a landing. Or a dock.

“How did you find this place?” Javier asked.
André pointed down the landing a ways. “Trillian smelled the blood.”
“Blood?” Javier sniffed the air.
“You can’t smell it?” André’s nose was in the air, his eyes closed as though he were

breathing in the scent of a bakery or a fine wine.

“No.”
Lucien stepped toward the spot André pointed out. “It smells like Gabrielle.” His

breath caught when he came almost to the edge of the landing. He bent and retrieved

something from among the brush. Instead of returning with something of his sister’s, he

pulled out a long branch.

Lucien reached his hand behind him. “Take my hand.”
André grasped the shorter vampire’s arm with both his hands and Javier nearly

laughed. The sight of this willowy man trying to anchor such a substantial man as

Lucien was nothing if not humorous.

“I’ll do that.” Javier stepped past André and placed his hands where André’s long,

thin fingers had been. “Go ahead,” he said to Lucien.

The short man leaned over the water, extending the stick into a patch of sludge. At

first, when he swiped the long stick through the reeds, it came out empty. But the

second time, it caught something.

“Pull me.” Lucien strained against Javier’s hands.
Javier hauled the short man back onto the landing. On the end of Lucien’s long

stick, a wet piece of material hung. Javier pulled the fabric away and held it up for the

group to see.

A corset.
“It has Gabrielle’s blood on it.” Lucien snatched the dirty material from Javier and

turned it over and over in his hands. “Somewhere.”

“I can smell it,” said one of the vampires.
“I can’t see it, though,” said the other.
André stood the farthest back, his face wrinkled in disgust, hands wringing. Javier

waved a calming hand in his direction.

Airship Seduction

“This doesn’t mean she’s dead.”
André gasped and his hand fluttered to his mouth.
Javier could barely see the expression on Lucien’s face in the dark, but the light

material of the corset was the only light object near that bank. An obvious dark patch,

which must have been the aforementioned blood, marred the material near the clasps.

If they’d been wrapped around a woman’s body and fastened, the blood would

have come from a wound in her lower back. Hardly fatal. Although seeing as there was

no matching stain on the opposite side, it was possible the corset wasn’t on her when

her blood soaked it.

Javier grasped Lucien’s shoulder as the younger man began quietly weeping. “Are

you certain it’s Gabrielle’s blood?”

Lucien nodded, bringing the corset to his face and inhaling. When Javier pulled it

away, the water clung to Lucien’s skin, giving his pale face a deathly sheen.

“It’s a strange pattern.” Javier ran his finger over the end of the stain. The edges

were firm, as though the stain had been made when the material was dry. “And likely

not made in the water.”

“It’s also not the only source of the smell.” Lucien turned back to the water.

“There’s more of her blood somewhere.”

Javier clutched at his arm, pulling him back toward the group. “It might have

washed into the river.”

“Or her body might be here.” Lucien struggled against Javier’s grip. “Let me go! I

have to find her.”

“Stop, Lucien,” André ordered. Javier turned to see the tall vampire stretch up to

his full height and straighten his face. “She’s gone.”

Lucien’s scream pierced the blackness and he sagged toward the ground, dragging

Javier with him. Javier fought to maintain his footing and tried to pull the stocky

vampire to his feet. In the struggle, he dropped the corset and took hold of Lucien’s

other arm.

Still, he didn’t have quite enough leverage to stop Lucien from sinking to his knees

and wailing.

“Lucien.” Javier kept holding the vampire’s arms, at least keeping him from

collapsing to the ground completely. “There’s nothing you could do.”

“Gabrielle!” Lucien screamed.
The four of them stood in uncomfortable silence while Lucien writhed on the

ground, calling his sister’s name and cursing alternately the country of France, the

Empire itself and Sacha Camomescro.

Each time the shattered vampire called Sacha’s name, Javier wanted to belt him. But

putting himself in Lucien’s place, he would have done the same.

Except he hadn’t. When the man in black had shot Sergio, Javier never directed his

anger at Sacha. In fact, he’d sought her solace. And she’d comforted him. Something

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about this emotional display left him wondering if there was something wrong with

him, or with Lucien.

Above them, a commotion rang out. Javier heard his name on Sacha’s lips and

sprang to attention, dropping Lucien completely to the ground. “Watch him,” he

ordered André, then ascended the bank toward Sacha’s panicked voice.

When he cleared the bank and saw the frozen vampires standing in a pack in front

of Sacha, he was momentarily comforted. Until he saw what they were all staring at.

In the clearing, not fifty paces away, a fully shifted werewolf padded toward them.

His giant body, all sinew and dark, matted fur, practically pulsed.

“He just appeared,” Sacha whispered. “After Lucien started screaming.”
Javier sidled up to her. “Are you all right?”
“We’re all fine. Until a moment ago, he just sat at the edge of the clearing.”
One of the vampires edged behind them, the jewels on his coat glinting the moon’s

light as he passed out of Javier’s field of vision. “Did you find Gabrielle?”

“We found her corset.” Javier pulled the nearest vampire behind him as well. “And

an awful lot of her blood.”

One by one, the rest of the vampires came to stand behind Javier and Sacha, all of

them crowded against the edge of the river bank. Javier took a step forward and held

his hand out, encouraging Sergio to stop. It was, of course, Sergio.

“There’s something around his mouth,” Sacha said.
“I see it.” Javier held his hand out again. “Stop, Sergio,” he called in a louder voice.

But the giant wolf continued to advance.

“What is it?” Sacha asked?
One of the vampires took a deep breath behind Javier and hissed. “Blood.”

Sacha thanked the gods she’d remembered to bring Luc’s gun with her. She

withdrew it from the folds of her dress, raised it to eye level, and aimed at the werewolf

just over Javier’s upraised hand.

As though Sergio recognized the apparatus, he froze momentarily. The blood

dripped from his jaw at the sudden stop in movement.

Just as Sacha pulled the trigger, the giant wolf bolted. Javier turned, having no

doubt just felt the giant bullet pass his head by inches. His gaze, wrinkled with

foreboding, settled on her for a second. She couldn’t have felt his anger more severely if

she’d read his mind.

They both looked back to the clearing at the same time. Instead of the hulking body

of a werewolf in a crumpled heap, they saw an empty clearing.

“He went into the woods,” one of the vampires said.
Another pointed almost straight west, in the path of the sinking moon. “Right

there.”

Airship Seduction

Javier put his hand out to stop their progress. “We’ll never catch a fully shifted were

traveling at full speed.”

“But she hit him.” The first vampire pushed at Sacha’s back, urging them all

forward. “He was slowing at the end.”

Javier took another step toward the clearing and turned, facing them. His white

shirt fairly glowed in the moonlight, especially against his dark skin and darker

trousers. “He could be hiding in the woods, waiting for us to follow. Werewolves are

quite intelligent.”

“I have no doubt you’re all very smart.” Sacha advanced, pushing his hand away as

he tried to grasp at her. “But these bullets would stop an adult elephant. It would take

more magic than your average werewolf can muster to shake off the sedative in these

bullets. They’re specially developed for shifters.”

With Javier behind her, Sacha picked up her pace. She dropped the gun back into

her dress, careful to neutralize its firing capacity first. She certainly didn’t want to

misfire into her own flesh. These bullets were made for werewolves, catshifters and

drakienen. While it might not kill her, she would be unconscious for days.

She wasn’t sure whether all the vampires followed or not, but the important person

did follow. Sacha was getting to the point where she could feel Javier’s presence

whenever he was near. She liked that more than she wanted to admit.

He was angry, of course. And although she couldn’t understand the words that

passed through his mind, the feelings were obvious. A healthy anger mixed with a little

lust and even some fear. Just as it should be.

Guessing by Lucien’s uncharacteristic emotional breakdown, Gabrielle was dead. If

the blood on his coat was any indication, Sergio could very well have been the culprit.

And if he wasn’t the culprit, he could easily be gone. Who knew if she’d really hit him

or not. Vampires couldn’t very well be trusted.

One of the vampires made a noise behind her and she stopped, turning to see one of

them bent at the waist, studying something on the ground.

“What’s this?” she asked.
He touched the ground with a gloved hand, then looked up at her. “It’s the blood

from the werewolf. And it’s fresh.”

“Is it human?”
The vampire—she couldn’t quite remember his name, there were so many of

them—put one blood-stained and gloved fingertip in his mouth and smiled. “Yes.”

Sacha whirled back toward the western escape and studied the grove of trees. She

pushed in toward the edge of her vision and searched for some kind of consciousness.

Sacha! someone thought. The exclamation was feeble and unrecognizable. But she

knew she’d heard it, and just inside the trees. Someone knew her, knew she could hear

their thoughts, and couldn’t call out.

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She set off again. Javier and the vampires called after her, but she wouldn’t be

stopped. After she heard the thought again, Sacha tilted into a full-out run. Her long

back skirts inhibited much speed, but she managed to at least outrun the vampires and

one very pissed-off human were for at least long enough to reach the edge of the

clearing.

Before anyone could stop her, she stepped into the trees.
While the adjustment of her eyes took a few moments, she moved without

completely seeing her environment, and put her hands in front of her to feel the trunks

of the big trees. A branch smacked her in the face and she squealed with the discomfort.

“Sacha!” Javier’s voice was thick with worry and she turned her head to call back to

him, then tripped over a tree root.

She tumbled forward and banged into a thick tree trunk, then fell to the side,

landing on top of something large and warm.

When she got her bearings, Javier stood above her, his face wide with shock. Sacha

raised herself onto her elbows and felt an odd texture under her right hand. Instead of

the cold, hard ground of the forest floor, she felt warmth. And hair.

Javier scooped her into his arms, clutching her to him, and the two of them looked

down on two bodies. One was the familiar werewolf they’d been chasing. The other

was mutilated. Half bone. Half Angus.

Airship Seduction

Chapter Eleven

Milan, Italy

Raul Morelo gave his black cape to the maître d’ and growled at the man when

asked if he’d like to shed his gloves. Polite society didn’t take well to deformities, but

they generally overlooked quirky behavior, especially from the very rich. Since Raul

appeared sufficiently luxurious for the Milanese elite, his habit of wearing gloves in

public was mere gossip fodder.

His deformed right hand would have branded him an outsider and an object of

ridicule. Worse, it would have made the meal he was about to partake in absolutely

impossible. And nothing made Raul Morelo crankier than missing a good meal.

After being seated, Raul searched L’Antico Ristorante Boeucc for his promised

contact. With the addition of the silver finger, his sensitivity to magic had diminished,

making it more difficult to access many of his latent abilities.

Like sensing the presence of a magical creature. Or two.
The bigger the pack, the more he was able to latch on to their magical aura, almost

like the scent of perfectly prepared lasagna among a table of forgeries.

A skinny man in all white, likely an actor of some kind, approached the table with a

glass of ice and spoke to him in Italian.

“Do you speak French?” Raul spoke Italian quite well, but he enjoyed the stir it

created to speak the language of the most recent invaders in such a politically sensitive

area as the newly unified city-states of Italy.

The young man’s eyes rounded, but he nodded and began his conversation in

French instead.

Raul paid little attention to the special offerings of the day, or any of the other

assortment of tasty dishes. Each time he dined at the Boeucc, he had the same meal.

And he wasn’t about to start getting creative in his culinary exploits with so much on

the line. When every meal could be his last.

“Bring me the osso bucco, just a bit rare in the center, and a bottle of your finest

local chianti. Oh, and if they’re not already in the works, have the chef put together a

crème tart with fresh fruit for my finish,” he finally said in perfect Italian. “I’ll need

another place setting, as I believe my party has just arrived.”

The waiter did not turn, and it was well he didn’t, for whatever common sense had

been in his head after that interaction would have disappeared the moment he set eyes

on Raul’s companion. Instead, he bustled for the kitchen, muttering in low Italian. Not

curses against Raul, but the precise instructions he’d given about the food preparation

and table setting.

Camryn Rhys

100

Good man.
Raul always appreciated people who knew their place. He was blatantly aware of

his own place, and tried to stay in it. But the gaudy dress of the man who approached

his table spoke volumes of someone who didn’t yet know his place.

The man had to be some kind of dragon demon, to begin with. He was simply

massive, like a drakien would be. A good head and shoulders taller than the tallest

waiter in the room, and tall enough he had to stoop when he used the door. While he

either magically kept his demon side at bay or had learned to control its manifestation,

he could not hide his supernatural size. His shoulders, full across, could easily double

their skinny waiter’s.

And the clothing. The man was dressed as though he’d gone to a tailor and asked

for stage costume. The pads inside his purple frock coat made his shoulders higher and

broader than they were naturally—already too wide to fit in the door. Said frock coat

was entirely too long to be fashionable, and much too purple to blend into society. Even

in Italy, where flamboyance normed the crowd.

At least the giant managed to execute his tie appropriately, even if it was hideously

purple as well.

Everyone in the tiny restaurant turned to stare, and petulant gazes followed the

demon from the door all the way to Raul’s table, nearly in the back of the room. Once

the giant grasped the back of the chair, the silence ended and the gossip began.

Raul didn’t mind being the object of gossip. But this wouldn’t be the type they

could afford for long, if they were to remain in Milan for any length of time. And he

never knew when his next orders would arrive.

He would have to speak to the stupid oaf about his appearance, and get the man to

a decent tailor immediately.

Raul snapped his napkin and met the giant’s dark eyes. “Sit down, you idiot,” he

hissed between fakely smiling lips. “Everyone is staring at you.”

“Let them stare.” The man’s face was broad and short, like all drakienen. But his skin

lacked the leathery quality of any of these demons Raul had ever seen. Apart from his

size and obvious lack of decorum, he looked as human as anyone in the room. “They’re

none of my concern.”

Mr. Benjamin certainly could have picked a less obtrusive contact. Perhaps even a

pixie this time. That would have been nice. Raul’d had his fill of drakienen and

werewolves. At least, if the contacts had to be magic, Benjamin could send a more

refined counterpart to match Raul’s preferences. A vampire, perhaps. Or a catshifter.

Someone who could hold a civil conversation and not look out of place among the

upper crust.

What he wouldn’t give to get his hands on that Empath…she would provide great

companionship, of course, apart from a pleasant feast for his eyes.

Airship Seduction

101

“They ought to be your concern, you arrogant ass.” Anyone who looked at Raul

would have found a pleasant smile on his face, but the tone of his voice conveyed the

appropriate warning, for the giant man leaned back as though punched.

The man didn’t speak, just stared down at Raul. After a moment of intense silence,

Raul gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit. Tell me your name. This place, we will

never see again. And I will get you to a tailor immediately. But for now, let’s do our

business and be done.”

“My name is Petr Kalistraat.” The giant’s face hardened. “You should call me Kalo.

This is what is done.”

Kalo’s heavily accented English could have been Bulgarian or Romanian as easily as

Russian, it was so thick. Raul’s curiosity peaked, and he studied his giant counterpart.

Perhaps the reason for his skin’s normalcy was some kind of interbreeding. Russian

peasant stock were notoriously big. It would have taken a massive human to birth the

size of baby Kalo likely would have been.

Europe for Progress found such interesting magical castoffs to do its dirty work.
“Well, Kalo, what orders do you have from Mr. Benjamin?”
“He wants you to wait here, in your hotel. There has been some sort of difficulty

with the spy. The ship is still docked at Avignon.”

Raul’s heartbeat increased. The woman continued to elude him, even when he laid

traps for her. Her luck would not last forever.

“Why does he not allow us to overtake them in France?”
Kalo leaned over the table and his chair creaked under his weight. “He believes we

will be at our strategic best here. This time, we must find the werewolves before the

Empath. Destroy them.”

“How will we do this?”
“There is a local who can help us. We’ll meet him tonight.”
Raul rubbed his chin with his right hand, expecting to feel the cool sensation of

metal, as he always did. Instead, the supple leather of his gloves caressed his skin. For a

moment, he missed the silver finger. It centered him.

“Will they not be here tonight?”
“It’s not likely.” Kalo’s eyes dropped to the table cloth. He studied some speck on

its perfect surface, appearing to avoid Raul’s gaze.

“What is it?”
“One of the weres you downed. They took him on board.”
Raul sucked in a quick breath. His one big mistake. He underestimated the alpha

were’s lack of concern for his own life, and his stupid bravery. No one had ever taken

one of the dead before, risking their own life in the process, so it had been a shock.

“I know this.” Raul growled, drawing the gazes of the nearest patrons. With a

sickly sweet smile, he returned them to their gossip.

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With a grand flourish, the waiter returned with two steaming plates of osso bucco

over creamy risotto. Raul actually salivated at the rich scent of the perfectly braised leg

of a young calf. There was no more decadent dish in all of Italy than the Boeucc’s

artfully prepared ossobucco alla Milanese.

The chef was a wizard, and not above using magic.
Raul met the old man on his last visit, and asked what the secret of this dish was,

but the old wizard’s amused smile stopped him. Of course, a master never reveals his

secret. But since that moment, Raul had been obsessed with discerning what it was that

made this particular dish such a memorable experience.

“What is this?” Kalo asked, pointing to the dish with a stubby finger. The waiter

arched a thin eyebrow, shook his head and retreated.

“Don’t ask questions. Just eat.”
“I don’t eat meat.”
“You’ll eat this.” Raul picked up his fork and held it above the dish for a moment,

inhaling deeply. Several surrounding patrons raised their heads and turned with almost

painful slowness. This was how Raul had first discovered the sorcery, as well. One

whiff of the dish, and you were enchanted.

The spell perhaps did not work on drakienen. Kalo poked at the shank with his

knife, lifting it first, then dropping it back onto the decadent pile of rice. “I don’t eat

meat.”

“If you don’t eat this, I will hold you down on the floor and force feed it to you

myself.” Raul placed his fork on the edge of his plate and took a long draught of the

chianti. The first taste, he found, was always the best. Rich and smoky, with a beautiful

finish. “Test me on this, Petr Kalistraat and you’ll find out why you were so hastily

called to replace my last captain.” He sipped the wine again and found that, sadly, the

second taste already dulled the chianti’s exquisite flavor.

Kalo’s meaty hand closed around his fork. “You could not take a dragon.”
“A leashed dragon, Kalo.” Raul sunk his fork down the bone and the meat

practically dissolved under the pressure. “For I’m certain the only thing that hideous

purple coat hides is some kind of magic restraint.”

Kalo did not answer. His nostrils flared in defiance, but no smoke came from them.

He ate a forkful of arborio.

“Eat the meat, dragon boy.”
Raul closed his eyes as the first bite of osso bucco passed his lips. Better than sex.
When he opened them, Kalo’s swarthy face stared back, but a large portion of the

meat had disappeared. Good man.

“Now. The rest of the information.” Raul sipped the chianti and savored the heady

taste on the back of his tongue as the undoubtedly white wine of the sauce mixed with

the deep red on his palate. This could not be the only magic of the dish. If it took a

thousand years of returning for this experience, he would discover the secret.

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“They were supposed to destroy the body by sunrise.” Kalo talked around the meat

masticating in his mouth, and Raul had to look away. The sight was too pedestrian for

such a delicacy, but it was more important that this Kalo knew who ruled him.

Although the thought of the osso bucco going to waste nearly made him halt the oaf’s

obliteration of his enjoyment.

“As tradition dictates.”
“Yes, the Spanish weres always burn their dead, before the rise of the next moon.”

Kalo grasped the wineglass and gulped it down, taking the bottle from Raul’s side of

the table and refilling it almost to the top.

This outrage, Raul would not tolerate. He signaled for the waiter and retrieved his

chianti bottle from Kalo’s stupid fist. “Bring us also a bottle of sauvignon. We will not

waste such a luscious bottle of chianti on an undiscerning palate.” The last line, he

hissed at Kalo while the waiter retreated.

“What is sauvignon?”
“It’s a cheap French wine. You’ll love it.” Raul eyed Kalo’s full glass, mentally

preparing himself for the giant to drain it in one long gulp. He had to close his eyes.

“Continue.”

The sound of gulping was followed by a long sigh. Raul opened his eyes again. The

waiter approached with an open bottle of the sauvignon, and filled Kalo’s glass

practically to the brim.

“They didn’t burn the were.”
Raul sighed, a bubble of anger rising in his throat. “Could the spy not make them

land the ship?”

“They landed well before sundown. Mr. Benjamin said they had the pyre built and

burning before the moon rose.”

“But they didn’t burn the body?”
“Some tradition from the Barcelonan alpha.” Kalo drained the glass after

swallowing almost a fistful of meat. His plate nearly finished, he put his utensils down

and leaned back in his chair. “He required that they wait for the body to surrender.”

“I should have known.” Raul turned his fork in his hand, a morsel of veal dripping

off the end. “I told Benjamin to let me overtake them in Avignon.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to get near them without revealing yourself. They

landed north of the city, in a clearing.”

Raul tried to ignore the building frustration. He still didn’t have a tight enough

leash on his emotive powers, as the outburst in Barcelona proved. This public a

spectacle would make unnecessary waves.

“Speaking of landing,” he growled, “does Benjamin know where they’ll be landing

in Milan?”

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Kalo cast a sideways glance as the waiter approached. The willowy man took Kalo’s

plate, which Raul followed with frustrated eyes. The barbaric demon had no respect for

culinary genius.

“Lago Idroscalo.”
“They’ll have to wait for night to fall, then.”
“Yes.”
Raul sampled another bite of the luscious arborio rice and drained the last of his

chianti. He resisted the urge to scarf up the rest of the veal, as his companion had done.

Instead, he wiped his mouth and pushed out from the table, putting the napkin over the

scrumptious remnants of his meal.

After dropping several hundred lira on the table, he signaled to the waiter. “Please,

give my compliments to Signore Contadino. An excellent meal, of course.”

“Where will we go now?” Kalo stood from his chair with considerably more

difficulty than Raul. The chair was perhaps too low for him, in addition to being too

narrow. And rising proved more difficult than sitting. Once upright, Kalo followed

Raul’s slow progress across the room.

“First, we must find you some less obtrusive wardrobe choices.” Raul retrieved his

cloak from the maître d’ and turned to survey Kalo’s disastrous appearance. “That is, if

you own anything that isn’t purple.”

Kalo’s face scrunched into an even more offensive countenance, but he wisely chose

not to answer.

“Then we’ll find your source and get a handle on our werewolves.”
“Should I roust the rest of the EFP?”
“There’s a whole cadre of you, is there?” Raul secured his cloak and stepped out

into the street, ahead of Kalo. While it was significantly less noisy than London, Raul

supposed he would never exactly be used to how dirty these Italians were. The

immediate assault on his nostrils was that much more exacerbating given that he’d just

stepped out of a magically pleasant smell.

“Mr. Benjamin had us sent down from Dundee, so yes. We are many. He put us at

your disposal, Mr. Morelo.”

“How many of you are there?”
Kalo scrunched up his face, thinking. “There are several weres, but they’re Spanish.

The rest are a pocket of German drakienen, two pixies and a witch from Romania, and a

bearshifter from Luxembourg.” Kalo pulled a piece of metal from his pocket and

handed it to Raul.

“What’s this?”
“A translator. You’ll need it.”
Raul turned it over in his fingers. Two long cylinders pressed together, flat on one

side, and ended in a short protrusion off the back end with a needle point. He slipped it

into his pocket.

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Chapter Twelve

It had taken them nearly an hour to bury Angus, which was more than the poor

cabin boy had gotten. Javier hadn’t liked how quiet Sacha was. He’d carried Sergio’s

wolf-shifted body back to the Harbinger after the quick burial, and she’d stayed at his

side, never speaking.

She hadn’t said anything over Angus’ grave. Javier hadn’t known what to say. The

vampires had been entirely too eloquent, and had to be cut off after ten minutes of

dramatic eulogizing. Lucien had been similarly silent, holding his sister’s corset while

André went on and on about Angus’ noble end.

Javier still wasn’t convinced it had been Sergio who’d torn the man half apart. He

didn’t think any of the vampires knew about the cabin boy from yesterday, but

werewolves didn’t feed like that. They generally ate everything.

Gruesome as it was, it was the truth. It took a very meticulous monster to eat

around the indigestible refuse of a body. And if they’d been able to take Angus back to

the ship, or wait for full morning, Javier was certain they would have found the same

sticky, blue substance lining the flesh left on Angus’ skeleton that they’d found on Elias

the previous day.

Once they reached the end of the Harbinger’s wooden walkway, Javier expected

Sacha to start giving orders, but she stayed so quiet, and held so tightly to his side. He

just wanted to get his arms around her.

“Go to the bridge and find Luc,” Javier ordered.
André looked at him, stunned, and then drew his eyebrows together, studying

Sacha. The vampire must have seen whatever he’d been looking for because he turned

back to his friends and said something in French. They enfolded Lucien into their

number and took the left hallway back into the belly of the ship.

Before taking the right hallway, André paused. “Where will you be?”
“There’s a cage in the hold. I’m going to take Sergio to the cage until we can

determine exactly what happened.”

André looked down at Sacha, lifting his hand as though he might cart her off with

him. A growl formed low in Javier’s stomach and rumbled without being completely

audible. But André either felt or heard its meaning, because he departed soon after.

“Come with me.” Javier took a step forward, down the left hallway toward the

hold. Sacha stood in the rising sunlight, unwilling or unable to move.

With his arms full, he couldn’t guide her, but he hoped her grip on his arm would

hold. He took another step and her arms stretched out farther, but she still didn’t move.

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“Sacha.” He tried to keep his tone even and low, but his arms were starting to tire,

and he needed to put Sergio down before he couldn’t hold the weight anymore. A little

more forceful. “Sacha.”

She finally looked up at him, her dark eyes drooping. He nudged her forward with

a small tug of his arm. Sergio’s claws scraped against the side of the wall, and Javier

couldn’t push him any farther.

“Come with me,” he repeated.
She took a tentative step forward and he could finally walk, if at a slow pace,

toward the hold.

“We can’t leave Angus.”
He didn’t look back, afraid he’d lose what little control he had over his need to hold

her. “We’re not leaving Angus. We’re just going to put Sergio in one of the cages in the

hold.”

“But we put him in the ground.”
The sad dip in her voice almost undid him. A tight pressure in his throat threatened

to expand, and he gulped some air to steady himself. “Just come with me to the hold,

carina, and everything will be better.”

She followed, again silent. When they reached the hold, she even opened the door

for him, and then opened the nearest cage. He stepped over the rise of the door,

deposited Sergio’s big body inside, and locked the cage behind himself.

“I’m so sorry, brother.” Javier held on to the cold bars and pressed his forehead to

his hands. “This is for your own good.”

“He didn’t kill Angus.” Sacha’s voice was soft but resolute. The tightness that had

been threatening to overtake Javier’s breathing for the last hour finally unfurled when

she put her hand on his back.

“I know.”
Her hand moved higher. “The killing was too similar to Elias.”
“It was exactly the same.” He turned to face her. “It had to be the same demon.”
“Or monster.” The hand that had been stroking his back now rested on his chest.

Her fingers splayed against the white fabric of his shirt made her skin look darker than

it had been in the moonlight.

Something niggled at Javier’s mind. The picture of Sacha lying atop Sergio’s body

and just inches from Angus’ bleeding corpse. “It’s so strange that Sergio would collapse

right on top of Angus.”

“Strange.” Her hand moved on his chest. With his own, he stilled its wandering.

But her voice was so far away, so flat. It worried him.

“Are you going to be all right, carina?” He touched the supple skin of her cheek,

tracing a pattern against her bone, trying to ground her.

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“I want to think about something else.” She leaned into him, resting her cheek on

his chest and closing her eyes. “I want to see something else.”

Javier pulled her into him, folding her inside his embrace and leaning against the

cage. In his peripheral vision, he realized that Sergio lay for the first time facing him. In

the shadow of Sergio’s jaw, Javier saw a long red streak.

“Just a moment, Sacha.” Javier released her, opened the cage, and was on his knees

inside Sergio’s cage before she had a chance to respond.

“What are you doing?”
“I saw something unusual.” Javier lifted Sergio’s jaw and felt along the ridge of his

neck bone until he felt the warm wet of what he’d been searching out. “He’s been

wounded.”

Sacha clutched the bars, kneeling to Javier’s level. “Will he survive?”
Javier felt the gash. It was less than half an inch deep, and didn’t even go to the

bone. There was very little blood on the fur surrounding the cut, and Javier held his

bloodied hand to his nose. It had the familiar tang of werewolf blood. Like his own

blood.

“It’s not a fatal wound.” Javier peeled his shirt off, wiped his hand clean of Sergio’s

blood, and pressed the cloth into Sergio’s chest. “He will live.” Javier sat back against

the bars, his head near to hers.

Her fingers snaked through the bars and touched his neck. Their feathery tips

slipped along his collarbone until her hands clasped. “I’m so sorry, Javier.”

He studied Sergio for a few moments, his curiosity piqued. “Why would Sergio

have a superficial neck wound? And be laid next to Angus like an offering?”

“But he had human blood on his mouth.” Sacha’s breath against his ear sent shivers

through his body. Blood began to flow, he could feel his lust rising again. Just from a

simple touch of air on his skin.

Javier pulled one of her hands from around his neck and turned the palm upward,

placing a kiss on her fingers. He’d almost forgotten what she said. “Human blood.”

He propelled himself to his knees again and bent over Sergio. His jaw, neck and

mouth were free of blood. “Are you certain it was his mouth?”

“His muzzle was wet with it. Not just wet. Dripping. There was enough on the

ground for the vampires to determine it was human.”

“His muzzle?” Javier ran his hands over Sergio’s muzzle and jaw again. Dry. He

jumped to his feet and bounded from the cage, locking the door behind him again.

“What are you doing?”
He headed for the main doors, the bridge, André and Luc. He had to tell them that

Sergio was innocent. “I’ll be right back.”

“Javier, don’t leave me.”
“Stay with Sergio. I’ll return in moments, I promise.”

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Before he could get far, her steps clipped behind him and a strong hand stopped

him in his tracks. She shoved him against the wall.

“You can’t leave me!” Her face curled up like an angry fist and she stood a step

away, her shoulders heaving.

Shock coursed through him. She’d gone from meek and silent to angry and violent

in a blink.

“I need to talk to Luc and André.”
The anger melted away, her face softening, and she took a deep breath. The sparkle

of tears clouded her eyes. “Please, Javier. Don’t leave me here.”

Whatever resolve he’d felt crumbled with her anger. The same urgency to hold her

that he’d felt most of the night consumed him again. He crossed the short step between

them and held her once again.

The weight of her in his arms sated him and inflamed him at once. She sank against

him, her body molding to his with perfect attention. He fought to catch his breath, the

pressure of his racing heart threatened to suffocate him.

With Sacha in his arms, much as he tried, his thoughts went in only one direction.

All it took was a little movement of her against his abdomen, and he began to harden.

What began as a chaste means of comfort soon turned into perfect torture. He was

practically an animal, salivating at the smallest wiggle of her hips.

“Don’t do this to me, Sacha,” he whispered. “I’m trying to respect your grief. And

mine.” But she moved against him, her breathing heavy.

“I don’t want to be alone right now, Javier.”
He cupped her cheek in his big hand, wiping a tear from beneath her closed eye.

“You won’t be alone. I’m not leaving you.”

“Please.” Her upturned lips reached for his, and he watched her close the distance

between them. For a short moment, he knew he had a choice. But her wanton beauty so

overwhelmed him. And when her hand reached down for his erection, he was past the

ability to say no.

“God, Sacha,” he breathed into her mouth. Her soft flesh grasping him and her

velvet kiss, together, assaulted him.

She moved her hand up his shaft, and slowly down. The agony of her touch built a

torturous bubble of anticipation inside him.

He stilled her movement, forcing his bulging cock out of his pants and taking her

hand in his. With a quick swish of clothing, he backed her against the wall that he’d

previously occupied, and busied himself with removing her tight black trousers.

Such a strange piece of clothing for a woman. Not at all accessible.
He barely got them to her knees before the scent of her arousal enfolded him. It sent

his senses reeling. With his mouth so close to her cunt, he dove into the folds of her

dress until his mouth found her hot wetness. His tongue moved in circles around her

clitoris and he slid two fingers inside to test her readiness.

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“Javier!” Her breath caught.
“So quickly?” He laughed into her sweet musk and pulled back to meet her eyes.

Their heated depths welcomed him.

He rose to meet her and her knees parted to accept him. With fingers covered in her

warmth, he stroked his cock and pressed it against her hot cunt, then hesitated. “I need

to be inside you, carina.”

Sacha reached around and placed her hands on his still-clothed buttocks. With eyes

locked on his she pulled him toward her and held him still for a moment.

“You are inside me,” she whispered. He ground his hips against her and she

moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”

Javier started a careful rhythm, pressing himself all the way inside her, then

withdrawing. She shifted her hips to give him better access, but moaned a little. Her

legs were still bound at the ankles by her pants.

“Faster,” she begged.
His heart swelled at her urging, but more so at the intimate rasp of her voice and

the tense, open-mouthed moaning. She wanted him. Him.

If his cock could have swollen, he imagined it would have. But he was harder than

he’d ever been, and could practically feel her milking the hardness from him with every

stroke.

Javier leaned toward her and groaned into her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of

jasmine in her dark tresses. His balls tightened, and he could feel the release

threatening. When she reached between them and sank her hand into the folds of her

pussy, her nails caught the skin of his erection and his orgasm pushed him over the

edge. He groaned into her neck, practically ready to sink his teeth into her just to get

that little centimeter closer to this amazing woman.

He kept pumping into her and at last, his fingers joined hers, coaxing her into her

own writhing pleasure. “Oh, Javier,” she whispered as her body released. The tiny

moan of ecstasy sent a shiver through his body and he devoured her mouth, needing to

silence her for a moment.

He had to get a handle on himself. And stopping her mouth seemed to be the best

way to do it at the time.

Sacha was pleased with Javier’s response. She asked him not to leave, he stayed.

She asked him to undress her, he obliged. She asked him to eat her cunt again, he

attacked with fervor.

That had been the most toe-curling series of orgasms. Like the first, in her quarters,

all those hours ago. Javier could eat pussy better than any man had a right to. Then

again, he wasn’t really a man, was he?

Sacha silently thanked whatever woman had taught him the way around a

woman’s vagina. He’d been instructed well. No man could make her come like this. Not

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that there’d been a long line of them. But enough that if it were a natural male talent,

she would likely know about it. And it was not.

But he was incredible.
And it gave him time to recover. To get hard.
Because what she wanted more than anything was to feel him inside her again. The

first time he’d come inside her, she had to close her eyes and enjoy it. It was unlike any

previous fucking. This felt as though he was pouring himself into her. Not just coming.

She didn’t even try to read his mind.
And now that she lay on her back on the cold wood of the hold, her boots, pants

and dress a thing of the past, she could only pant her thanks. Javier hovered over her,

his green eyes sparkling with lust. His gaze settled on her breasts and a thrill raced

through her. He wanted her again.

His head bent to her breasts, bathing one with his tongue, then adding his hot

breath, until her nipple was uncomfortably erect. Javier covered it again with his mouth

and tugged at it with his teeth. Her breath hitched as her nipple slipped from between

his lips with an audible pop. There was no hotter sound on the planet.

“Javier.” She didn’t even know what she wanted to say, only that she wanted to

speak. Her breath came close and loud. “Please.”

He moved over her, resting his elbows on either side of her head. He stroked her

face with a hand that still smelled like her sex. As though he knew she’d smelled it, one

hand searched out her clitoris again, rubbing the sensitive nub between two wet fingers.

Then those fingers plunged inside her and she called his name. Again.

His handsome face curled into a silly grin, and a growl rumbled deep inside his

chest. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

“Like what?”
He touched her clitoris again and a jolt of desire shook her. “Javier!”
“Like you need me.”
“I need you.” She clutched at him, pulling him closer. “Please.”
Javier moved between her legs, and she opened even wider for him. Hooking her

legs around his buttocks, she guided him toward her. He paused, hovering above her,

meeting her eyes.

“I need you too, Sacha. You should know that.”
Before she could respond, he sank inside her with a deep thrust. The dark moan

that ripped from his lips made her nipples peak. The animal in him, even though it

might be harnessed, was always so near the surface.

She pulled his face down to hers and opened her mouth to receive his plundering

tongue as he thrust inside her with frantic abandon. Her hips joined his in a mad

rhythm and his muscles tightened under her hands.

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Her lips moved next to his ear and she whispered, “Come inside me, Javier. I want

all of you.”

This time, he came screaming, mouth open, growl fully formed and shaking. He

collapsed on top of her and she locked her feet behind him, holding him inside her. His

panting body heaved on her, pressing her into the floor.

“I’m hurting you,” he said.
Before he could move, she tightened her hold on him. “You could never hurt me.”
“Don’t be so certain.” In a quick move, he’d flipped them over so that she lay atop

him, her legs splayed open, his softening cock still inside her.

She ground her hips against his, seeking another release. But he stilled her with his

big hands and she snuggled against him, curling her legs down against his.

Javier scrunched her discarded pants and put them underneath his head, giving her

a better angle at his full, wet lips. And, of course, giving him a bit more comfort from

the hard floor.

“This will do, as well.” She pressed a kiss to his lips and pushed against his mouth

with her insistent tongue.

“You will be my undoing,” he groaned against her.
She kissed the flesh of his neck and threaded her fingers into his hair. “If that’s

what your undoing feels like,” she whispered, “let’s do it again.”

* * * * *

Sacha knew the moment they took off. While she often slept through takeoff and

landing alike, the presence of a naked man and the size of the room made her senses

alert. She was surprised that an announcement had not been made in each of the rooms.

But then again, that had always been Angus’ job. Or Elias’. And with both of them

gone, Luc would need the rest of the crew on deck to handle the takeoff. A wave of

sadness overtook her, clouding thought.

She could see Angus’ face, white and wrinkled, smiling back at her from some

distant memory when she’d first met the crew that The Resistance had chosen for her.

Better that than the half-eaten skull…

A shudder made her readjust her position, and Javier grunted in his sleep. His back

was to her, and she wondered if those fantasies she always had about waking up in her

lover’s arms were just that. The men who shared her bed were never cuddlers.

Or she wasn’t worth cuddling with. One of the two was certainly true.
Javier shifted again and turned, slowly. The black tattoos on his shoulders

momentarily mesmerized her. As she’d imagined when they first met, they covered

both sides of his entire body, from wrist to shoulder, down his sides, and then met

again in the dusting of dark hair that nestled his cock.

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She followed their path all the way to their source and saw that he already had a

present for her this morning. Even though every muscle in her body ached from their

particularly athletic sex, her blood raced for him again.

When his eyes focused on her, they heated and flared. A slow, sexual smile quirked

up one side of his mouth. “Good morning, carina.”

“If it is morning.”
Javier scanned the big, gray space around them and nodded. “It is late morning, but

morning nonetheless.”

Sacha followed his gaze around the wooden floors and walls. She took in the crates,

the cages, the supplies, luggage and miscellaneous items strewn about the giant space

with the low ceiling. “There are no windows. How can you tell it’s morning?”

He closed his eyes and inhaled. “I can still feel the moon.”
“It’s long set.”
“Only to the naked eye, carina.” Javier raised himself up on one elbow and turned

his body toward her. His cock bounced in the motion, still erect. Waiting. “It is

somewhere in the sky, although not over us, and given the time of the month, I would

imagine we’re right before the noon hour.”

She reached for him and laughed. “Your talents are amazing.” His erect flesh

heated in her hand, pulsing with his heartbeat.

“I would have thought you realized that last night.” His voice hitched as she

fingered the length of his erection, reaching all the way to his balls and then back to the

head before resting her hand on his stomach.

“You are a man of many talents then.”
Javier took her waist in his hands and pulled her toward him. The rough wood

scraped her hip and thigh, but the pressure of his erection between them finally

distracted her from her discomfort.

She wanted him inside her again. To feel that perfect completion. But he was more

interested in her mouth than her cunt. Much to her chagrin.

He tasted her fully, waking her tongue with his own. A low growl rumbled inside

when she shifted her leg over his hip and the head of his cock pressed against her

wetness.

Sacha ground against his erection, reveling in his groaning response. She was about

to take him in her hand once more when his head tore away from hers.

Javier shifted back to his other side, facing Sergio’s cage and the door they’d come

through. A stack of crates hid their clothes from the cage, but their naked bodies were

visible. Sacha pulled at the crumpled white shirt under her head and covered her

breasts, afraid that someone would catch them.

“Back up against the wall,” Javier whispered.
He gathered up what clothing lay spread around them and ambled back, where

they couldn’t be seen in the shadows. She noticed, to her chagrin, that his erection was

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almost deflated. It amazed her that she cared more for one part of his body than she did

for her own safety. But there it was. Couldn’t hide from the truth.

Just as they’d hidden themselves, Sacha heard the main door open. She peeked

around Javier to get a glimpse of their guest, but he pushed her back.

The door, which was on the same wall they’d backed up against, stood open, its

wooden face obscuring whoever opened it. Javier placed a long finger against his lips,

and she pushed into his mind.

We should get dressed.
She nodded. Quietly, she began to pull on her undergarments, then the black

trousers. Still, the door didn’t move.

With quick hands, Javier pulled his pants on and tied them closed. He reached for

her dress and helped pull it over her head. Sacha pulled her breasts up through the

material and flipped her gaze to his. The heat that she’d seen this morning was

suddenly back. He reached inside the loose fabric of the dress and softly caressed one

breast, his eyes never leaving hers.

You have such beautiful breasts, carina. Would that I could do this for hours.
Javier startled and perked, as though smelling something. He pushed himself up

onto the balls of his feet and peeked around the side of the crate, blocking her view of

the door.

It’s an unfamiliar scent, he thought. Vampire? Catshifter? Dragon? Pixie?
At each of the questions, he paused, as though waiting for her answer, but she gave

none. She had no way of knowing that unless she tried to read its mind, whatever it

was. And that wasn’t always safe.

The thing behind the door moved away from them, toward Sergio’s cage. Sacha

couldn’t see around Javier. She put a careful hand on his back as he looked out into the

open space of the hold.

It’s a woman.
She forced her hand into his back, harder. More information.
She’s wearing a long cape. It looks purple in the light, but I can’t really tell. She’s standing

in front of Sergio’s cage.

He looked over his shoulder. Can you read her thoughts without her knowing you’re

here?

Sacha nodded again. Well, of course, most people wouldn’t notice her presence in

their head. Unless they were looking for it. But your average vampire was about as

sharp as a stocking full of soup, so the likelihood of a vampire noticing her exploration

would be unlikely.

She pressed toward the unfamiliar presence. Before the barrier of the woman’s

mind, she found no emotions, which was strange. Usually, people had a haze of

emotive trash clinging to them. Some relevant, some not. But this woman was clear.

Almost as if she were an Empath herself.

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Sacha touched the barrier of the woman’s mind, feeling its clean, controlled edges.

Also unusual.

There was something familiar about this barrier that Sacha couldn’t quite place.

This mind would notice the attempted intrusion, so she stopped pushing.

Instead, she yanked Javier’s arm. She needed to see who it was. Of course, everyone

on the ship would be somewhat familiar. But she’d tried to read this mind before, she

just knew it.

His body thunked against the wall and she climbed over him to look around the

crate. The noise drew the attention of the purple-cloaked woman who had just moved

to the mouth of Sergio’s cage. Her deep hood fell back at the movement, revealing a

familiar round, china-doll face.

Gabrielle!

Javier heard Sacha’s gasp and put his hands on her waist to pull her back against

him. Her dress wasn’t yet fastened, and she was entirely too much in disarray to face

anyone in public.

But even as he tugged on her, she resisted. “Gabrielle,” she whispered.
The vampire sister? How could she possibly be alive? He pulled her down with

more force. This time, she tumbled against him.

Javier was on his feet in a matter of seconds and found the woman’s cloak shed and

the familiar black and cerulean uniform of the Resistance underneath instead of what

had looked like a fully confining gown. She crouched in front of Sergio’s cage,

brandishing a knife.

“Gabrielle!” Sacha called from behind him.
“We’re friends.” Javier spread his arms. “And we’re unarmed.”
“I know who you are, werewolf.” Gabrielle’s voice was low, gravelly, vicious.

“Keep your distance, I warn you.” Her accented English, like Lucien’s, wasn’t quite

French, and that disturbed him.

A warning shot off in Javier’s head and the awareness of danger set his hair on end.

They’d found her bloodied corset. Yes, not enough blood to have been fatal, but she

would be at least wounded. And had gone through an awful lot of trouble to disappear,

then only to reappear when no one was guarding Sergio.

Danger.
He walked around the crates, hands outstretched. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just

want to know why you’re here with a knife.”

Her body went completely still. Javier stopped as well. Something wasn’t quite

right. Most people would be nervous at the approach of an alpha werewolf. Especially

one showing all of his regalia. Only predators went still when another approached.

Gabrielle’s pale eyes glanced from him to something behind him. Sacha. He tensed,

matched her stance and prepared to pounce. But Gabrielle launched the knife and it

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sunk into the meaty flesh of his shoulder. Surprised by the quickness of her movements,

Javier stumbled back against the crates.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Gabrielle produced what looked like another knife

from the long, black sleeve of her dress. She turned back to the cage, hurled it into the

sleeping werewolf, and vanished into thin air.

Sacha’s voice sounded behind him in some kind of wonderment, but Javier could

think of nothing but Sergio. An animal scream tore from his throat. He pulled the knife

from his shoulder and dropped it to the floor. The hard thunk on the wood grounded

him. The events of the last few seconds flashed before him again. It had all been too fast.

He hadn’t expected it.

He stumbled toward Sergio’s cage, blood seeping from his shoulder wound. The

pain began to radiate out from the wound site, making it difficult to concentrate on

opening the cage door. He sagged against the cage bars, feeling their solid support.

Sacha hurried toward him, a look of pale fright on her face. Her brown eyes, so

wide and concerned, shed giant tears. Javier reached for her face as she knelt beside

him. “How bad is it?” Her voice trembled.

Javier didn’t look at the wound. It wasn’t spurting blood, and it didn’t seem to have

hit anything vital. His arm still worked. There was just so much pain.

“I’m going to survive, carina. Please,” he jerked his thumb over his good shoulder,

“Sergio.”

Her gaze searched his, the concern so evident. But she still moved past him and

retrieved the key from amidst the line hanging on the near wall. The click of the lock

opening and the creak of the door swinging echoed in the huge hold. Javier held his

breath, waiting for his hope to be squelched again.

Sacha knelt beside Sergio’s unmoving body and reached toward his heart. A tight

anger reverberated within Javier, seeming to push at the pain for a moment. Sergio,

again, had fallen under his watch.

“Look at this.” Sacha’s quiet words forced his eyes open.
The object that stuck into Sergio’s flesh just above Sacha’s hand was not a knife after

all. Sergio’s chest did not move under her hand. The anger began to spread.

“What is that thing?”
Sacha plucked it from the werewolf’s chest and a thwacking squish told of the

depth of its penetration. The object wasn’t silver, as the knife in Sergio’s shoulder had

been, but was made of brass and glass.

It was long, like a knife, but cylindrical, and had a big brass handle on one end,

with a long brass point at the other.

Javier took it from her outstretched hand. “This looks familiar.”
“It should.” Sacha reached into the folds of her dress and withdrew an exact replica

of the object Javier held in his hand. It was maybe six inches in length, and at least half

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of it was the long, brass point. Not as fine as a needle point, but perhaps more like four

or five needles melded together and sharpened.

“What is this?”
“I’m going to take it to my contact in Milan and see what he can tell us about it.”

Sacha handed the object to him. “It’s from the assassin.”

He held the two weapons in his hand and studied them. “The one who chased us in

Barcelona?”

Sacha nodded. Her eyes narrowed. “That’s the one I pulled from Sergio’s body after

he fell behind us in the street.”

Javier held them up to the lamplight, comparing the grooves on the brass points,

the thickness of the glass, the markings on the brass handle.

“They’re identical.”
“Yes.” Sacha took them from him and put them back into the pocket inside her

dress. She stood and relocked the cage door. After placing the key on the wall, she

paused, her hand still holding it on its hook. “He’ll be safe here.”

“Safe?” Javier growled. “He’s dead.”
“He did not die from the first. He will not be dead from the second.”
Javier considered her words. Sergio had, indeed, come back from his first death. If it

had been a death. But it had been so like death. His breath stopped, his heart failed to

beat, his limbs stiffened.

“How do you know this?”
Sacha turned, her eyes blazing. “Because these instruments are not Resistance-

issue.” She finally released the key and walked past him, her feet bare. He noticed for

the first time that she’d fastened her dress, confined her body again in that uniform, and

erased all evidence of their lovemaking. Except for her bare feet.

“You should finish getting dressed,” she said. “We need to go see Luc immediately,

and then scour this ship to find Gabrielle before she does any more damage.”

* * * * *

Sacha waited for Javier outside the laundry room. It was as much a desire to be

alone with her thoughts as it was a need not to see his naked body again. Her resolve

was set, and she needed no distractions.

That wasn’t likely to be possible if Javier persisted in her company.
A group of vampires passed, eyeing her with careful suspicion. She avoided their

gazes, although they attempted to speak to her. Sacha wasn’t in the mood.

She was moody, but not the kind of moody that invited long conversation. Between

the grisly memories of Angus and Elias, and her most recent memory of Javier’s

glistening flesh, she didn’t know what to feel.

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“Sacha!” a female voice called from behind her. Before she could turn, Althea stood

in front of her, transparent wings flapping and slight pixie face open in earnest.

“Althea.”
The princess’s voice shook and her eyes fluttered with her wings. “I’ve been

looking for you everywhere.”

Sacha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The vampires and pixies were alike in one

aspect—their love of melodrama. She forced an even tone. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to speak with you.” Althea’s blonde head shook. Her hair was long and

bound in braids lined down her back, which quavered in her nervousness. “I’m sorry.”

Sacha pressed her lips together and waited while the tiny woman wrung her hands.

“Take your time.”

“It’s just, I promised Angus I wouldn’t say anything, but when I heard about him—

I needed to come straight to you.”

A stab of grief pierced Sacha’s disenchantment. “When did you speak with

Angus?”

“Just last night. I tracked him down after…after I heard what happened to Elias.”

The delicate face creased, her fine features exaggerating the pain.

Sacha’s own pain swelled, thinking of how eager Elias had been when he first met

the pixie princess months ago. His whole life had been full of her, until its end. He

could never get enough of her, and his job often suffered because of it.

But Sacha had always given him the benefit of the doubt, because everyone in their

presence could see their love for each other. If Sacha hadn’t been so marred by life’s

tragic nature, she would have been tempted to believe in true love because of Elias and

Althea. And now, as life would always have it, tragedy extended even to them.

“I miss him too, Althea.” Sacha touched Althea’s delicate arm. It felt too fragile

under her fingers, like a twig waiting to be snapped. “You’re not alone.”

Althea wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared at her wet fingers. “Pixies never

cry, you know.”

“I didn’t know that.”
“I would have given up my wings for him.” She smoothed her hands on the gauzy

fabric of her dress. “Angus said that Elias died bravely. So at least his spirit will survive

this life. Perhaps we will meet in another.”

Sacha stiffened. Somehow, with these pixies, talk always turned to religion, and she

never knew quite how to respond. Althea searched out her eyes, looking for comfort, no

doubt. All Sacha could do was offer a rueful smile.

“I was with Elias just before he…was killed.”
Silly pixie! Why couldn’t she have gotten to this a little earlier? “Exactly when were

you with him? And where?”

Althea’s cheeks flushed and she averted her eyes. “I don’t know if—”

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“No, I don’t mean to tell me the details. I need to know if you saw anything that can

help us determine what happened.”

“That’s just the thing.” Althea’s brow furrowed and she took a deep breath. “But

Angus said I should never tell you. He said that we don’t know what it means.”

Sacha’s frustration rose, a fire scorching up the sides of her throat. It would have

been so easy to grab the tiny woman by the shoulders and shake the information out of

her. She pushed it back down. Pixies didn’t respond well to violence, even just polite

violence. “Angus is gone, Althea. If we’re ever going to find out what happened to

Elias, you have to tell me what you saw.”

“Elias and I had just left…one of the closets. We were looking for a…well, a place

where we could be alone and…with a—”

Sacha rolled her eyes at the pixie’s prudery. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,

Althea. This isn’t some polite society or high court to put on a pretense. You’re perfectly

free to express your love for one another.”

Althea’s cheeks reddened once more. “Well, I still don’t wish to—”
“I know what you were doing, and what you were looking for.”
“Well, Elias kept me in the closet so he could find a…a suitable room. But when he

opened one of the doors, there was someone inside.”

Sacha’s senses perked. “When did this happen?”
“Shortly after we left Barcelona. We would always meet shortly after takeoff

because it unsettled most of the creatures, so everyone would be in their rooms.” A

wistful remembrance glazed the pixie’s big eyes. “And Elias knew where all the empty

rooms were, far from prying ears.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “To think that we’ll

never be together again…”

For an un-crying breed, pixies sure could turn on the waterworks when it suited

them. Sacha crossed her arms and sat back on her heels. No use pushing. It would only

make the tears come faster.

After Althea had expunged the tears, she met Sacha’s eyes again. “I’m so sorry. I

just…this is my first cry.”

The thought struck Sacha as strange. To have never cried before. What a thought.

Sacha had cried many times, shed tears for both Angus and Elias in the last two days.

Even now, she had to keep her walls carefully erected, or she would be drawn into

Althea’s emotive downward spiral.

“Did you see anything when Elias went into the room?”
“I didn’t see anything at first. There was a voice, but I couldn’t place it. I don’t think

Elias recognized him at first, either.”

“So it was a man?”
Tears welled in Althea’s eyes, spilling over the edges and onto her perfect porcelain

skin. “I’m so sorry, Sacha.”

“Sorry for what?”

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Althea took a deep breath, her shoulders rising almost to her pointed ears. “When

Elias backed out of the doorway into the hall, the person followed him. And he was so

angry. I couldn’t see his face at first, but he had a big black cloak on.”

“Who was it that you saw, Althea?”
The pixie pressed her trembling lips together and her eyebrows rose. She blinked

once, twice, three times, then shook her head. “It was Luc.”

Sacha stepped back and sucked in a short breath as though she’d been punched.

Without thinking, she quickly pushed into Althea’s mind.

She saw Elias and Luc arguing in the hallway just outside the room where they’d

found the mauled body. Luc pinned him up against the wall by the neck, a violent snarl

on his lips. Elias glanced back toward where Althea waited, then gave a barely

perceptible shake of his head. Blackness overtook the memory, as Althea must have

pulled back into the closet.

Sacha pulled out of Althea’s mind, her breath coming quickly, matching the tiny

pixie’s erratic pace. The two of them stood, unspeaking, their breath sounds filling the

hallway. Althea’s wings picked up their pace and she burst into tears again.

“I’m so sorry. I know how fond you are of Luc. And I didn’t want to tell you. But

after Angus was mauled as well, I had to come—”

“Angus was mauled by a werewolf.” Sacha shook her head even as she said it.

Sergio hadn’t had any blood on his muzzle. It couldn’t have been him. And unless there

was another deranged werewolf, they were back to square one.

“Was Elias mauled by a werewolf? Was it not Luc after all?”
Sacha closed her eyes, remembering the snarl on Luc’s face. He could easily have

shifted into his bear form in the hall. Unlike the creatures who boarded, the demons on

staff were not required to wear Prata. Some chose to, like Chax, because they did not

control their demon powers well. But they also knew how to remove them with relative

efficiency, should their powers ever be necessary.

There was a key. They all knew where it was. Every member of the crew.
But Luc? And could a bear even have done to those bodies what had been done?

The meticulous cleaning of bones? The ripping of flesh?

No. It couldn’t have been Luc. No matter what Althea said. It could not.
Unreasonably big eyes stared back at her, waiting for some sign she’d understood

whatever question she’d just been asked. But Sacha wasn’t in the mood for answering

questions. She needed to think. Alone.

The door to the laundry opened and Javier stepped into the hallway. His solid body

filled the space behind Althea, dwarfing the little pixie. As soon as his eyes found

Sacha’s, his gentle smile turned to harsh concern.

“What’s wrong?”
Sacha shook her head. “Althea was just leaving.”

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“What’s the matter?” Javier crossed the space between them, putting his hands on

Sacha’s shoulders. “What happened?”

“Althea saw Elias just before he was murdered.”
The pixie nodded, her feet picking up off the floor. Instead of walking away, she

floated down the hall. “I’ll be in my quarters if you need me, Sacha.” Her sad eyes met

Sacha’s. “I’m so sorry.”

Javier placed a finger on her chin and turned her face to his. “If she was the one

who saw her lover murdered, why is she telling you she’s sorry?”

“It’s not important.”
“Carina.”
The simple word, the deep timbre of his voice, his presence with her—she felt more

comforted than she had a right to feel. Javier was here, and he would fix all this.

Only, no. She couldn’t put this burden on him. This was hers to bear. She’d let Luc’s

anger go unchecked for too long. His frustration over Tsura’s death continued to eat at

him. And her indulgence of his sexual needs only compounded the problem.

A problem she needed to fix.

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Chapter Thirteen

“I’ve been looking for you.” Luc’s monotone surprised her. “I waited in your

quarters and finally had to scour the ship.” He walked into her field of vision, and she

was stunned by his haggard appearance.

The face that stared back at her in anger looked almost unfamiliar. His usually clean

skin was dirty, eyes puffy, skin shadowed with whiskers. But his dark eyes were ever

the same. Prying into her, almost demanding.

Luc crossed his arms and spread his feet in a wide stance. “Where have you been?”
Sacha burned, closed her eyes, and pushed the memories away. Of course, Luc

couldn’t read her mind, but she’d been taught such ardent defense of her mind, she

couldn’t help it. “What’s happened?”

“Other than the death of two crew members? The disappearance of a passenger?

The strange un-death of a certain werewolf?” His voice hardened. “You tell me, Sacha.”

A sad tightness crowded her throat at the thought of Elias. And Angus. She saw

him again in her memory, his head half-eaten, and shuddered.

Luc’s features softened. “I’m sorry, Sacha. I didn’t mean to be angry with you.” He

took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her toward him. “I’m so sorry you had to

see Angus like that.”

She expelled a long breath, trying to push the memories away as well. She was

sorry she’d had to see Angus or Elias at their end. A lady shouldn’t have to see such

things.

Ahh, but she was no lady. Was she? She was a demon, and not a particularly

ladylike one, at that. She wore trousers and short dresses that most ladies would

consider not only scandalous, but dirty. She fought with her hands, she worked for her

living. She’d been raised a gypsy, grew up playing in the mud and learning how to

survive in the wilderness.

No, she was no lady.
But no one deserved to see their friends in such a state. Demon or human, lady or

whore, or anything in between.

Luc’s hands began to roam over her back. “I wish I could have prevented that.”
She shrugged him off. “It was none of your doing, Luc.”
Behind Luc, the laundry room door opened. Javier emerged, clothed in new, clean

brown trousers and an unblemished white muslin shirt. He even wore shoes, which he

hadn’t done since Barcelona.

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But it was his face that troubled her the most. What began as an open, earnest smile

ended in a tight, curled snarl. He may even have growled. The naked possession in his

eyes sent a thrill right through her. No one had ever looked at her like that before. It

was intoxicating.

Luc stood beside her, sneering at Javier.“Ahh, here’s your werewolf.”
“He’s not my werewolf,” she quickly corrected, a tiny bolt of fear passing through

her. She had never belonged to anyone.

“Yes. He is.” Javier’s words surprised her.
Sacha couldn’t meet his eyes. But she knew what she’d find there. That same

possession, the same heat, the same friction that was always there. She couldn’t look

into that desire right now.

Instead, she faced Luc, turning her body away from Javier just enough to

communicate that conversation was over. “We were just on our way to find you.”

“I must admit to being frustrated, Sacha.” Luc’s arms crossed again. He backed into

the wall. “You found Elias and didn’t tell me. You found Angus, and still didn’t tell me.

But you go to this stranger with everything.”

“He was with me when I found both of them.”
Luc’s chest retracted with a quick breath, almost as though she’d hit him. “You

seem to spend all your time with this werewolf, as of late.” Luc glanced at Javier, taking

him in from shoes to eyes. “Yet all our troubles began when he came on board.”

“That’s not true.” Sacha’s throat constricted and her breath quickened. “We’d been

having trouble long before Barcelona.”

“Not as I recall.” Luc’s lips tightened into a line and he glowered at Javier, stepping

away from the wall and taking a wide stance. Javier matched his posture, but stayed

thankfully silent.

“We had an incident in Lisbon. And an attack in Cordova. Then, we lost all of the

Valencian werewolves, and would have lost all the Barcelonans if Javier hadn’t

managed to get Sergio on board so quickly.”

Luc grunted, leaning back against the wall. His dark eyes narrowed. “He could

have been following us. Waiting for an opportunity to get on board.”

“I followed them for almost two days. I knew he was the alpha.”
“He could have—”
“He didn’t.”
Both Luc and Javier took shallow breaths, facing one another across the hallway,

Sacha nearly between them. She was ready to step completely between them, but didn’t

want a face-off of any kind.

Javier finally spoke. “The first attacks on board ship did start when Sergio and I

arrived.”

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Sacha shook her head. “That’s not true, either. There was an attack on the pixies just

before we landed in Valencia.”

“That was a vampire,” Luc said.
“We don’t know that for sure. Just because all her blood was drained, we assumed

it was one of the vampires.”

“But it certainly wasn’t like these last attacks.”
Sacha backed down, recognizing his logic. Certainly, the pixie attack had been

different than the two maulings. Luc had found the woman in the hold, sprawled over

some of the crew’s luggage. There was no blood, anywhere. Except a few sprinkles on

the skin of her neck near the two puncture wounds. But she’d been deathly white when

she’d been found.

Everyone assumed it had been vampires, and heaven knows Sacha loved to blame

the vampires. But it had been the first death on board. And it was certainly strange.

Finding a corpse completely empty of blood was almost as strange as finding one with

only half a face.

“Are you insinuating that I had something to do with either of these deaths?”

Javier’s tone was much more even than Sacha had expected. There was even a note of

sarcasm hidden in its depth.

“I’m just saying that something has been off around here ever since you arrived.”
This time, Javier growled. He reached across the space between him and Sacha and

took hold of her wrist. With a quick jerk, he pulled her against him. His chest was hard

against her protesting hand. But she was flush against him, and his eyes fired daring.

Just try to deny how you feel, Sacha. This isn’t really about the death for him. It’s about you.
“That’s absurd,” she said aloud, turning back to face Luc. But Javier kept her tucked

against him, his arm around her waist.

Don’t doubt me, woman. His words may accuse me of murder, but he watches you, he

moves toward you. This is about you.

“Whatever is going on here, just stop it. Both of you.” She tried to pull away from

Javier’s grasp, but found she couldn’t, which both thrilled and terrified her. “Two of my

friends are dead.”

“By a werewolf.”
Luc’s words reverberated in the empty hall. Sacha felt Javier stir, his chest expand

beside her. But he leashed his anger as well as he could.

“That was no werewolf attack,” Sacha answered for him, his emotion pouring into

her. Her voice betrayed the anger. “You have no proof. And you didn’t see the bodies.”

Luc nodded his resignation. “True. But from what André said, Angus was certainly

mauled. And there’s an unfettered shifted werewolf somewhere on this ship.”

“He’s caged.” Javier pushed a breath out. “Not that he needs it.”

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“He will stay caged until we can get to the bottom of this.” Luc took a step toward

Javier. “I’m assuming he’s in the hold, then. And he’ll stay guarded until we land in

Milan.”

“Which will be when?” Sacha asked.
“Just after sundown, Henry tells me.” Luc raised his hand, pointing at Javier. “You

will stay with the Cordovans until we land. Sacha, come with me.”

Javier tightened his grip on Sacha’s waist just as Luc grabbed her arm. A sudden

and possessive hum sounded from Javier.

“She can stay with me.”
“We have…official business to tend to.” Luc plucked Javier’s hand from her waist

and pulled Sacha toward him.

“This is ludicrous!” Sacha stepped back, putting herself equidistant from each man.

“You can’t pass me around like I’m some trinket. I’m going to my quarters.”

“Sacha,” Javier called after her. “Carina, stay with me.”
The pliant tone in his voice tugged at her heart. She wanted to stay with him, but to

take a stand like that with Luc right now could be dangerous. The last thing she wanted

was them fighting over her.

She turned to him, met his soft eyes, and her breath caught at the need in him. “I’ll

just be in my room.”

“I do need to speak with you, Sachela.”
Sacha spun around and kept walking. Her patience for Luc was dwindling. If he

continued to challenge Javier, the werewolf would snap eventually. He may not be able

to shift, but the animal was only leashed from showing its physical presence. The

emotion, the spirit, the presence of the wolf always hovered just below the surface.

* * * * *

Sacha lay in the dark, waiting for Javier. The ship groaned and creaked as it would

in air passage, but none of the noises attached to a person. She found herself drifting

toward sleep, knowing she should rest before they landed in Milan, but wanting to stay

awake and speak to him. They hadn’t had a moment alone since they were last intimate,

and now that she had some space to think, she was questioning more and more.

Javier had been the first of her marks to sense her presence before she revealed

herself—almost as if he had been waiting for her instead of vice versa. He acquiesced to

her rescue more willingly than any other alpha she’d taken. Their physical intimacy had

been so quick and passionate, it had taken her by surprise, and with her defenses down,

she’d left her mind unprotected. She’d also told him more about the Oracle’s words

than even Luc knew.

It had been a long time since she’d had a real lover, and never someone like Javier,

who saw her so completely and wanted her for who she was. Just the memory of his

mouth on her made her whole body shudder. Sacha had to take a breath to refocus her

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mind. Something nagged at the edge of her awareness, as though a detail waited there

for her to uncover. But it only eluded her more swiftly the more she tried to chase it.

A sound in the dark focused her thoughts quickly. Someone approached her door,

turned the key, opened and closed the clock, and padded toward her. Instead of

reaching out for his mind, Sacha waited for him.

His presence filled the doorway and his breath came in even pants. “I’m through

waiting for you, Sachela. I had to come myself.”

Luc. Of course. Why should she expect Javier to come for her? He may have proven

his desire for her body, but she told him to stay away, and he listened. Stupid man.

“Luc, I’m so tired.”
“Just let me speak with you for a moment.”
She pushed toward his mind and found its familiar smooth emptiness. The man

had certainly developed the skills to keep her out unless he desired it.

“If you’re here to warn me against Javier or convince me that he’s part of the reason

we’re having these deaths, you can save your breath.”

Luc crossed the room with heavy steps and sat down on the edge of her bed. His

back rested against her leg, which she’d propped up in anticipation of rising. A fleeting

sadness took hold of her as she considered how much she used to love him. And now,

all that remained was the promise of Javier.

“I just need you to hear, from my own lips, what I believe he’s doing to you.”
“Now, Luc…” She didn’t know what else to say. Javier was doing something to her.

What, she couldn’t yet be certain. But something was different with him than with the

others. And different than Luc.

“Just hear me out, Sachela.” He put a hand on her thigh.
“Because you are my closest friend, I will listen. But if you start accusing him, I will

ask you to leave.”

In the dark, Luc sighed. While she couldn’t make out his shape, she could still feel

the pressure of his hand on her leg and sense an uneasy anger, latent in him.

“You’ve known him so short a time, Sachela. And yet you listen to him before you

listen to me?”

“He has proven to me that he’s trustworthy.”
“Because you’ve taken him into your bed? You trust him because you’re lovers?”
Sacha took a deep breath and reached for Luc’s mind again, gaining no advantage.
“I can smell him on you.” Luc’s voice veered into almost a snarl. “You were once

this way with me, Sachela.” His hand clamped down on her thigh and ventured

inward, toward her center. “We have been lovers for a long time.”

She inhaled sharply and his hand stopped moving, but did not remove it from her

person. “We were never really lovers, Luc.” Her sadness betrayed her in the delivery of

this statement, but she didn’t try to take it back. It had been a long time coming. Now

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that she knew what it was like to receive a man’s full attention, she didn’t know if she

could settle for what Luc provided her anymore.

“Javier loves me. You have never loved me.” Sacha pulled the blanket down over

her ankles and crossed them, pushing against Luc’s sturdy frame.

He leaned across her body, almost as though he wanted to kiss her, but instead, he

grabbed her chin and stared into her eyes with unrepentant anger. “How do you know

this, Sachela?”

She clutched at his arm and pulled in vain at his tight trip. “I can see her.” She

looked down at the crumpled bedclothes and clutched the blanket around her. “When

you’re inside me. I can see Tsura.”

Shame clouded the air between them and Luc didn’t speak at first. His hand relaxed

and the pressure of his fingers retreated.

Tears formed in the corners of Sacha’s eyes as she remembered the moments of her

gripping climaxes with Luc, then searching his mind for his pleasure trigger, only to

find his dead wife playing the lead role in his fantasies. She’d given him everything,

and he’d blindly sought solace inside her body, only to be betrayed by his own mind.

“I can’t help that I loved my wife, Sachela. Or that I miss her.”
“But you can certainly help that you never think of me. Not even when you come

inside me, Luc.” The spite in her voice shocked even her.

She expected him to retreat completely at that, and scooted back on her bed to

encourage him to leave her. But he didn’t. A hard, fast anger took hold of him and he

snaked his hand under the loosened blanket, grabbing the delicate flesh of her inner

thigh in his vise-like grip.

“Will you please stop that?” Sacha shifted against him, but he ground his hand into

her and brought the other hand around her knees to pin her onto the bed.

“You never complained before.” His grip on her leg tightened.
Sacha tried to kick him away, but he’d pinned her down by his arm, so she hauled

around and slapped him with one of her hands, missing his face in the dark and

landing a blow to his neck.

“You don’t know how much I need you, Sachela.” Luc shifted his weight so that he

sat on her legs now and when she reached around to hit him again, he blocked her with

his forearm and caught both her wrists in one hand.

“If you stop struggling, you’ll see how much I do love you.” His hand disappeared

quickly from inside her blanket and for a brief moment, she thought it was finished. But

his breath wore into a ragged pattern and she could hear him unfastening his pants

with his free hand. “You make me so hard, Sachela. I just want to be inside you.”

“No, Luc.”
“You’ll see. It’ll be like it was before that werewolf lured you into his magic spell.”

Luc’s body pressed on her while one hand continued to hold her wrists together as she

struggled. He kissed her with a wide, angry mouth, and she wrenched her head away.

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“Please, Luc. Just go.” Sacha pressed her eyes together, but the darkness of her

room and the darkness behind her eyes were the same. There was no sanctuary. She

screamed at the top of her lungs, but knew no one would hear her. Her quarters were so

far buried away from anyone but the crew, and those that would have been closest were

now dead.

Javier! she cried inside. Please, save me! If only he could reach her in time. But she felt

the slimy head of Luc’s erection pressing against her leg, searching for home.

“Stop! Please help!” she screamed, but no one came. She pushed at him with her

whole body, and finally with her mind. Then a white light took her and everything

went silent.

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Chapter Fourteen

Javier sat against Sergio’s cage, focusing on the cold steel at his back instead of the

angry mob of vampires across the room. Vidal and several of the Cordovans lay around

the edges of the cage as well, having volunteered to keep watch with Javier. But Javier’s

unease grew with every passing moment.

Ever since Sacha dismissed him in the corridor, he’d been feeling the same unease.

Perhaps it was Luc’s veiled threats, or the fact that Gabrielle had vanished into thin air

and not been seen again. If they could only get to Milan, and Sacha could seek out her

allies, then this would all be solved.

Vidal tapped Javier’s shoulder. “Did you hear that?”
Javier turned toward the door, where Vidal’s eyes were focused. It remained closed,

and Javier strained his ears to listen beyond it. Nothing.

“No. What do you hear?”
“I thought I heard someone calling for help.” Vidal stood, brushing the dirt from

his pants, and walked to the door. The mass of brooding vampires shifted, but Vidal

held a hand up to silence them. “I hear something in the hallway.” Vidal turned back to

the room at large. “It’s nothing.”

Javier pressed harder against the cage, willing the metal to mark him in some way.

To cut him or brand him. Anything to take away the pain inside as he contemplated

Sacha abandoning him. What began as a purely sexual mating was morphing into the

kind of emotion he’d only felt once before. The moody, protective, paranoid aching

inside wouldn’t go away. It must be love.

True love, no less, he’d bet his last peso. Only true love was this consummately

torturous while simultaneously promising the most intimate fulfillment. He’d been on

the precipice of this with Mira, and escaped just in time. Before it stole everything from

him.

Yet he didn’t want to escape from Sacha. He wanted to revel in her. To claim her

and mark her, and stay buried inside her for hours—no, days—on end. More than that,

he wanted all of her. Not the blatant sexuality that she seemed to offer freely, but the

vulnerable woman inside. The one who needed him, who wanted to belong to him as

he belonged to her. This was the woman he loved.

Yes, love.
His mother always promised him that he would know in an instant, and he had.

The moment he saw her in the market—her black hair loose and enticing, her guarded

interest, her reaching toward his mind—he knew he wanted to know her.

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The wolf part of him wanted to consume her, to possess her, to mark her and mate

her. But the man wanted to know her. In his heart, he wanted to explore and discover

everything there was to know about Sacha Camomescro, Empath demon, Resistance

leader, airship owner. Woman. God, what a woman.

When it had taken him so long to fall in love with Mira, he wondered if it would

truly last forever. His mother had been so certain when she said he would know.

Almost as if she was warning him to wait. But he hadn’t. And part of his heart would

always belong to Mira.

But what was left of it, he wanted Sacha to have. And he wanted to tell her, right

that exact moment. Except she wasn’t here. And she’d told him to stay away, to let her

rest. So Javier had a choice. He could be the good, obedient dog every master wanted,

or he could be the hunter.

He didn’t feel much like being mastered right then. But he did feel like a good

hunt—he hadn’t been hunting in far too long. Javier rose from his position and set off

for the door. The vampires roiled across the room and Lucien grunted loudly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”
Javier paused, careful to control his response. “I’m going to find out how long until

we land in Milan.”

Vidal’s voice rang through the corridor. “No one is under arrest here, Lucien. He

doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone.” The silence that met his utterance was

deafening. Javier felt a slow curl of shame trace into his heart. Vidal was more the alpha

in this situation than Javier was acting.

Between his uncontrolled lust for Sacha and his lack of restraint when it came to

protecting Sergio, he was more wolf now than man. And a good alpha was the best of

both. At that moment, Javier felt like the worst of both.

He needed to see Sacha and get this nonsense under control. This time, when he

made a move for the door, the vampires didn’t make a sound. Javier wanted to turn and

beat them all to a pulp. But he burst through the door and made his way to Sacha’s

room.

The hallways were darker than he expected, and he walked slowly, attempting to

make all the right turns. But the closer he got to her room, the more he was fueled by an

urgency that came from somewhere other than inside himself.

Javier never pretended to be a psychic, but something didn’t feel right. Typically, he

could feel her, smell her, sense her. But now, everything was empty.

He turned the last corner and found the clock door open, pushed through it, and

every lupine sense he had told him danger lay ahead. For the first time since he met

Sacha, he wanted to remove the Prata and at least have the ability to shift if he needed

to. It was still the height of the lunar cycle and he should be able to shift at will, were it

not for the magic bracelet on his arm.

Her bedroom came into view after the black corridor, and a lamp flickered near the

door. On the bed in the corner lay two unmoving bodies. On top of Sacha lay a half-

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naked man whose face didn’t need to be visible for Javier to recognize as Luc. He bent

forward in the doorway and growled, channeling the wolf he used to summon.

It took a moment for Javier to work out what had happened, but the closer he got to

her, the more the details became visible. Sacha was still fully clothed, while Luc’s pants

were at least mostly open. Her skirts had been lifted, but part of Luc’s shirt sleeve was

torn off, as though she’d been pulling him off, not urging him forward.

Javier had seen this aftershock before, been part of it, even. When Sacha’s psychic

energy exploded, it knocked out everything in a radius. If Luc had been on top of her,

he would have felt the brunt of it.

Bastard. He deserved it.
Rage burned inside Javier’s chest and he hoisted Luc off Sacha by his shirt collar,

tossing the big man back onto the empty floor. Luc’s head made a hollow thud on the

ground that caught Javier off-guard. He bent toward the listless man and put his hand

in front of Luc’s mouth. No heated breath. His chest didn’t move, even upon close

inspection. Javier tuned his hearing as much as he could in human form and put his ear

to Luc’s chest. No heartbeat. He felt Luc’s neck for a pulse and found none.

The man was dead, and Sacha had killed him.

* * * * *

Javier tried to rouse Sacha, to no avail. After he put Luc in the chair near the door,

he smoothed out the front part of her skirt, all the while thanking God that Sacha had

killed him. Because by everything holy, if Javier had come upon that scene before Sacha

took care of matters, he would have shifted from the rage alone, magical leash or not.

Just the thought of another man touching her made his heart thud in his ears.

But regardless of what Luc tried to do to Sacha, there was yet another corpse on

board the ship, and whatever happened next would be the tell. With the captain dead

and crew members mauled, their chances of reaching any port at all looked bleak.

Never mind finding magical creatures in Milan and then setting sail for Africa. By the

time they reached The Resistance, there would be none left alive.

Javier sat against the hard, cold wall of the bedroom and held Sacha’s head in his

lap. Her breath was even, if slow, and each rise and fall of her chest made him want to

cover her with blankets and hide her from the world.

Why had he not been here to protect her? And if he did get shooed away, why did

he listen? He should have stayed right here, despite her protests. Now she was

unconscious and Luc was dead, and it could have all been avoided if he…

Don’t think like that. This isn’t your fault.
But it was always his fault. Mira’s death had been his fault, his pack’s decimation

his fault, Luc’s death, Sergio’s capture. Javier sucked in a breath. What a

disappointment he was as the Avinguda alpha.

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After a few minutes, Sacha began to stir. Javier stroked the side of her face as she

began to murmur and flutter her eyes.

“Don’t speak, carina, you’ve had a bad spell.” Javier touched her lips with his

fingertip and hoped she could hear him. “Come back to me.”

Sacha’s dark eyes opened and focused on him. “What happened? Where am I?”
“Your bedroom.”
Sacha tried to sit up, but Javier’s hands pressed her down into his lap.
“Don’t struggle, Sacha. You need to rest.”
“Where’s Luc?”
Javier took a deep breath and took Sacha’s hand. He didn’t quite know what to say

to her. You killed him? He attacked you and now he’s dead? There wasn’t a way to say it. So

instead, he said nothing and shook his head.

“What’s wrong, Javier?” Sacha tried to sit again, this time struggling against his

hands on her shoulders. She wriggled out of his grip and saw Luc in the chair. The color

drained quickly from her face and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. “Dammit,

where is the linguistor? If you won’t tell me, I’ll read it in your goddamned Spanish

thoughts.”

Sacha pushed at him and he tried to get his arms around her thrashing body, but

she wouldn’t settle. His frustration grew at her fighting and he finally growled.

“You killed him, carina.”
She stopped struggling and collapsed against him, her face resting against his chest.

Her tears were hot on his skin, although she made no noise. Her wordless sobbing

tugged at his baser instincts. Mother of God, he wanted to fix this for her.

He should have been here.
“He tried to…force you, yes?” he finally asked when she stopped shaking.
Under his chin, her head went up and down. Her affirmation made the blood pulse

in his ears and his mouth dry out. He should have been here.

“Oh my God, the crew,” Sacha whispered. She clutched at his back and moved

against him frantically. “They won’t understand this.”

Javier was less concerned about the crew. Henry, Chax, a few others he’d never

met. That was all that really remained of the crew. What worried him was the gaggle of

vampires in the hold, all convinced that he and Sergio were the enemy. They would

insist on some kind of justice for Luc.

“We can’t go to the crew.” Javier smoothed her hair and kissed it. “I could try to get

Vidal alone, but I worry about the vampires. I’m not sure how much their senses are

dulled by the Prata they wear.”

Sacha sniffled and peered up at him. Her eyes were read and swollen, but she still

managed to leave him breathless. She cocked her head. “What would Vidal do?”

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“Dispose of the body. Keep it in their quarters.” He swallowed, not wanting to ask

this of her, but it was all he could think of. Javier broke eye contact and stared down at

his lap. “If you took the Prata off my arm, I could shift and consume him.”

She shook her head. “I cannot remove them.”
Javier looked around the room. Perhaps they could hack him into pieces and store

him in one of her clothing trunks until they landed in Milan. Did anyone know he’d

been coming to see Sacha? If she took the helm of the ship, would they miss Luc?

“How did Angus dispose of the body we found?”
Sacha’s eyes glazed. Of course, mentioning Angus would bring up all the

destruction that had happened over the last several days. He held her to him. “I’m

sorry, Sacha. I just want to prevent you from being Sergio’s cage companion.”

She shook her head and pulled back, her head bent down. “I’m sure Angus put him

in the waste container that we dump whenever we land.”

“Wouldn’t he have been discovered?”
“Not if Angus was the one to dispose of the refuse.” Her eyes traveled to Luc and

her face crumpled in sorrow. “Oh, Javier. What have I done?”

With strong arms, he pulled her to him and enveloped her as best he could. “You’ve

done nothing, Sacha. You were trying to protect yourself and can’t be faulted. That’s

why I want to find a way to dispose of the body without involving anyone else. I don’t

want you to be held responsible for something that isn’t yours to take on.”

Sacha curled into him and his heart raced. The way they fit together confirmed

everything he’d been wondering since he met her. They were such a match. But life

seemed to want to get in the way of them.

Being with Mira had been so easy—as if it were destiny. With Sacha, it felt like a

fight against circumstance and will. Did that make Mira right and Sacha wrong? If he

could answer that question, he’d have solved at least one mystery.

He bent to kiss her and held her face between his hands, searching for the answer in

her eyes and, finding none, he sighed. “Everyone is locked in the hold, so we’ll go to the

waste container together.”

She pressed her lips to his and threw her arms around his neck. “What would I do

without you, Javier?”

He shook his head and stood from the bed, the events of the last several days flying

through his mind in rapid succession. “I’m sure your life would be simpler and easier if

Sergio and I had never come on board.” Picking up Luc’s body, he couldn’t help

chuckling. “However, you’d be left to dispose of several corpses on your own. Perhaps

we should thank God for small favors.”

Sacha hooked one of Luc’s arms over her neck with unsmiling silence. “We’ve lost

so many people this last week.”

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Javier put Luc’s other arm over his own neck so it would look as if they were

helping him to walk on his own instead of carrying him to his grave. “We’ve all lost

people, carina.”

They walked out of the bedroom without speaking another word and Javier

couldn’t help feeling that a wedge of resentment pushed them apart even as conspiracy

brought them together. He certainly couldn’t contain the feeling in his own heart that if

Sacha had never come into his life, either his brothers would still be alive, or he would

be dead with them.

Where he belonged.

* * * * *

Sacha pressed out as far as she could in all directions, feeling for thoughts that

weren’t Javier’s. While she still couldn’t translate his thoughts without the linguistor, it

didn’t take an Empath demon to see that he’d been affected by Luc’s death, and

potentially more. What she could pick up that sounded familiar was all about his

cuadrilla, his pack. And hermanos, which she knew to mean brothers.

If he was thinking that his brothers would be alive today if she hadn’t found them,

he was sorely mistaken. The assassin couldn’t possibly be on her ship, and therefore, he

had to know where they were going before they arrived, or he wouldn’t be able to so

carefully track her movements.

Sacha stopped in her tracks and Javier tripped over Luc’s suddenly stationary feet.

“Of course!” she yelled. “How could I not know this?”

Javier’s shimmering eyes turned on her. “What is it, carina?”
Pressing out again, she made sure there was no one around, and lowered her voice

to a whisper. “The assassin.” She shook her head and kept walking. “I can’t believe I

didn’t see this before.”

“Sacha, unlike you, I cannot read minds. You must speak your thoughts aloud, or I

will be lost.”

“The assassin. Since France, he’s been so close behind us. And getting closer each

time.”

“Yes?” Javier pulled on Luc’s body a bit. “We must hurry, carina. I know you can

feel people around us, but we can’t be caught with him in this state.”

“In Barcelona, he was so close. He may even have been there before us.”
Javier’s posture changed at the mention of his home. More thoughts of his fallen

brothers. She wanted so badly to comfort him, but he was right, they needed to move.

“You think he knew where you were going?”
“He doesn’t have an airship, or we would have seen it. It’s impossible to hide from

Angus in the skies.” A shallow pressure in her chest made her catch her breath. Angus.

And Elias. And now Luc. Dammit. Why hadn’t she seen this sooner?

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“So in order to catch you in Cordova, in Barcelona…in Milan.”
“He had to know where we were going.”
Suddenly, a short distance away, she felt someone’s thoughts. Sacha hushed Javier

and they both froze. Luc’s body felt so heavy as she listened. Thoughts in English,

which made her breath return.

We need to find Luc. Of course he’ll know what to do. It was Chax. Sacha couldn’t tell

how quickly she was moving, but she wasn’t far away. She searched the corridor in

front of and behind them. All the doors in sight led to occupied rooms, and even

though Javier said everyone was in the hold, she couldn’t risk someone being left

behind. If they were asleep, she wouldn’t be able to hear their thoughts unless she was

in much closer proximity.

“Do you hear something?” Javier whispered.
She nodded. “Chax.”
Javier pointed to the door in front of them a few feet. “We have to get him out of the

corridor.”

“That’s the pixie quarters. We can’t chance that someone will be in there.”
He scanned the hallway and pointed to the next door. “What about that?”
“Staff quarters.”
“Whose quarters?” he hissed, pulling on Luc’s body.
“Angus, Henry, Elias, Yuri.”
Javier’s eyes were frantic, his thoughts hurried. And her name appeared in his

thoughts over and over. “Yuri is the short one with the beard?”

“Yes. He works in the engine room with the dragons.”
“He’s in the hold.”
“You’re sure?” she asked.
“He’s in the hold, Sacha. We have to get into that room.” Javier took Luc’s full

weight and moved so quickly down the corridor, she almost couldn’t keep up with him.

She braced herself against the rough wood walls and reached out. Chax was still

coming. She would need to get into this corridor to get to Luc’s room, which must be

where she was headed.

Sacha scooted down the hallway and Javier looked back when he reached the door.

He turned the handle and just as he was about to step over the threshold, Chax

appeared behind him in the corridor.

“Stop!” she yelled. “I need to speak with Luc.”
What happened to Luc? God, that woman has knocked him out again, Chax thought as she

approached Javier with careful steps. Chax’s eyes glowed orange as she glared at Sacha.

Please, just let her go back to the hold. Go back to the hold, Chax.
“We need to get him back to his room,” Javier said.

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Chax put a graceful hand on Javier’s arm, near the Prata that leashed him.

Undoubtedly, it heated under her touch. It would be hot with magic if Javier wanted to

shift. But Chax didn’t pull away. Instead, she yanked Javier around.

“What has she done to him?”
“We need to get him to his rooms.”
Chax crossed her arms. “Why are you going into this room, then?” She looked past

Javier into the room. Angus. Then, the sadness overwhelmed Sacha, so much that she

had to put her hand on the wood wall again, for support.

But the sadness masked something else. Something Sacha couldn’t quite place, with

the overwhelming ferocity of the higher emotion. Guilt?

“Isn’t this his room?” Javier asked.
Chax laughed. “Not bright enough to ask Sacha where her lover’s room was?” A

metallic undercurrent of spite radiated from her. She was always jealous of Sacha’s

closeness to Luc.

Javier growled and his possessive glare fixed on Sacha. He wasn’t angry at her,

though. Was he? Goddam linguistor. Now she knew why Luc wanted her to always

wear it. Otherwise, she was blind, like everyone else.

“I see not.” Chax took one of Luc’s arms and hefted it over her neck. “Well, his

quarters are this way.”

Javier began to walk next to her and Chax grabbed Luc’s hand to steady her grip on

his arm. She froze.

Cold.
Sacha closed her eyes. They were discovered.

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Chapter Fifteen

Milan, Italy

Raul didn’t like open spaces, but with the exception of night cover, which could be

very dangerous in a crowded port, the only way for Sacha’s airship to dock

inconspicuously was to find an abandoned section of open water. At least, that’s what

he’d been assured—a lake northwest of the city, under-populated and quiet.

Not only the open space, but Kalo’s band of thugs unnerved him. Shifters of all

kinds, witches, satyrs and ogres. It set him on edge to think of being backed up by so

many magical creatures. Sure, Raul was magical himself, but he had no choice. The

presence of so many traitors unmasked the motive in his own heart.

Raul crouched behind a cluster of bushes, his fine clothing succumbing to use at last

and now covered with Italian mud. Benjamin would owe him a wardrobe after this. In

addition to other promises, it would cost the wretched man a pretty penny to dispose of

this demon and her horde.

Kalo stood only feet away, hulking and seething. The longer they waited, the

darker the drakien’s eyes became. Raul had been told early afternoon, and they’d been

waiting since noon, hidden as well as they could be.

Raul had given the order to allow the demon to disembark her ship so they could

attack a leaderless ship. This way, the demon herself would lead Raul and Kalo to the

pocket of traitors they sought, as she had each time he’d tracked her.

Their ventures would be more successful than in Cordova, more even than

Barcelona. This time, they would wipe out each and every one. His corps was now large

enough to be completely effective.

And deliver the demon to Mr. Benjamin. Then his contract would be fulfilled.
“Raul,” Kalo hissed. He looked more like a bear than a man as he crouched in wait.

An angry, hungry bear, but a bear, still. “Are you sure you have the right location?”

“This is precisely what Benjamin gave me.”
Kalo shoved a massive hand into the air between them, one sausage-like finger

extended almost all the way to Raul’s chest. “You haven’t even spoken to the spy

yourself?”

“She’s on the ship. How could I speak to her?”
The dragon shifter raised a thick, hairy eyebrow. “How do you think Benjamin gets

his information?”

Raul considered for a moment. He hadn’t ever asked. In all the times he’d been to

the apartment, he’d never known how he got there, but he knew it was magic. The

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Empire, while trying to eradicate magic from the populous, wasn’t above using it for

their own purposes.

A rustle behind them drew Raul’s attention. Two shifters pointed at the sky to the

west. Where there should have been a setting sun, a great brown ship sailed in the air.

Its tonnage would rival the large naval ships Raul used to work. At least four hundred

meters at waterline. Maybe bigger. He’d never seen it full-on like this, because they

were always following so late behind and almost always in full dark. But now he got to

take in its beauty, and it was truly a magnificent vessel. The demon’s father had crafted

an unparalleled work in his Harbinger.

Too bad he hadn’t lived to see his daughter take the helm and use it as a refuge for

the bastardized magicks.

Kalo’s meaty fist went into the air and his hand flattened horizontally. The chatter

and whispering ceased, and what heads had been visible disappeared. Raul leaned

toward the drakien and caught his lapel.

“You remember I am in charge here, dragon?” Raul snapped.
Kalo nodded. “They are clearing their minds so the Empath demon cannot

anticipate the attack.”

The ship emitted a trail of steam, although Raul had heard it ran on magic and not

on true steam power. Something powered it, and something steered it, as it glided into

the water at a slow clip and the gangplank descended toward the ground with a figure

on it. Even the setting sun didn’t illuminate them fully.

But it was either the demon or the spy on that plank, and if the moon wouldn’t tell

them, they’d have to get closer.

Raul hissed for one of the pixie men to approach him. The short, hooded boy

shimmied out from behind a tree and was at Raul’s side in a moment. Pixies were

notorious for being quick and silent.

“Go toward the ship, but stay on the perimeter of the clearing.” Raul put his hand

on the boy’s shoulder. He really was a boy—his doe-eyed innocence struck Raul like a

slap. This empire they served was reported to be above such things. But child soldiers

smacked of Mr. Benjamin. Raul shook himself and finished his instructions, but the sick

feeling didn’t subside. “If that’s the spy, she’ll seek you out. Bring her to us. If it’s the

demon, signal me and I will come to you.”

Two tiny wings sprouted out of the boy’s hooded cloak and he lifted a few inches

off the ground. Keeping to the shadows, he moved silently around just as Raul had

instructed and approached the ship. It was nearly full dark now, and it would be quite a

hoof in to the city if that was the demon. Their plan was simple. Complete eradication.

Save the demon.

The long plank touched the ground at last and the figure started its deep descent to

the ground. But instead of one lone figure, several followed. The noise subsided

gradually, and the figures kept coming. All shapes and sizes.

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Some were obviously women, but some were men. At least two hundred when the

last one filed off the walk board, but maybe more. Raul glanced at the pixie at the edge

of the clearing, but couldn’t see him. They hadn’t planned for this and Raul hoped he

wouldn’t make himself known because he didn’t know what to do.

The murmur of the crowd hushed and one woman stood back on the plank, so as to

be a bit above the crowd, and shouted across the group for quiet. Then, one of the larger

men, obviously a drakien, whistled and there was silence.

Raul leaned forward, listening, and caught most of her words.
“My friends and fellow magical creatures,” she shouted. “You have been led to

believe that Sacha Camomescro was one of you. But when I found her with Luc’s

corpse, she proved her otherwise.”

Raul glanced at Kalo to gauge the drakien’s reaction, but couldn’t see a visible

emotion on the man’s face. This woman, obviously not the Empath, was now leading

the refugees. The demon, somehow, had been the spy? Is this why Benjamin wanted her

so much? And Kalo knew?

The woman continued. “We must assume that whatever orders Sacha was giving

are suspect. The crew and I will take you to the Satyr House, where Althea has assured

me they can cast the same spells we have lived under on board the Harbinger for

protection from human eyes.”

A rumbling started in the crowd and several of the men nearest the shouting

woman appeared to be resisting. Two large drakien wandered into the crowd and began

hushing them again. Someone shouted a question at her that Raul couldn’t hear.

“We’ll have to leave her behind. We need to move together, and we must be quick.

Before the light comes up, we need all of you to be inside the Satyr House and give the

pixies time to weave the magic necessary for our protection. This is what Luc would

want us to do. Now, follow me.”

The noise returned and Raul turned to Kalo again. Still, no emotion on the drakien’s

face, but Raul was dumbfounded. “We’re not prepared for this.”

Kalo finally snarled and a menacing smile curled across his broad face. “This is

perfect, Raul. Don’t you see?” He rubbed his giant hands together. “I will take the

group and we’ll kill them en masse. You go on board, see if they’ve killed the woman,

and meet us at the Satyr House.”

“And if there are more creatures on board?”
Kalo pointed toward the retreating crowd. “You heard the woman. She’s taking

them all to the Satyr House. There’s no one left on board.”

“And they’re abandoning the ship?”
The giant shoulders shrugged and Kalo stood. “It appears, yes.”
Raul tried to recover his wits for a moment. Their lateness, first of all, put them all

on edge. And the change of plans made the hair stand on the back of his neck.

Something about this wasn’t right.

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A rustling at his elbow made Raul turn instinctively to check his peripheral vision,

and he saw the young pixie, hood pulled back, eyes wide.

“What is it?”
“The captain is dead.” The boy blinked, swallowed, and hung his mouth open.

“Does this mean we don’t have to fight anymore?”

Kalo raised the back of his hand and the boy crouched behind Raul. “Get back in

line, Milo.” Kalo kept his gesture frozen and eyed the boy with alarming menace. “Of

course you have to fight.”

“What else did you hear?”
The young man peeked over Raul’s right shoulder, getting as far from the drakien’s

angry hand as he could. “Their captain is dead and the woman, your spy I believe, is in

a cage in the hold with a dead werewolf.” He came all the way out from behind Raul’s

shoulder and stood just off his right arm, his eyes big once again. “I didn’t catch the

whole story, but a group of shifters was trying to reboard the ship to get their fallen

brother. The dragons stopped them, and they all left.”

A pang of sadness struck Raul at the mention of the shifters. The Cordovan

werewolves, his cousins. Yet he’d shot them as quickly as the French vampires. The arm

of the Empire, he truly was. “The werewolves too?”

The boy nodded. “All of them. No one got on the ship again after the scuffle.”
Raul held up his hand to silence Kalo’s interjection and barked out an order. “Kalo,

you track them to the Satyr House. Kill them and everyone you find there. Start with

the pixies so they don’t have a chance to cast their magic.”

“They would be visible to us anyway,” Kalo argued.
“Still, there might be additional protection spells. Just kill the pixies first.” He stood

from the bushes and meticulously brushed the country grime from his excellent

clothing.

Kalo’s big hand stopped him. “Where are you going?”
Raul stared at the giant ship and blinked against the dark, wishing his senses could

be as they once were. He stroked his chin, feeling the cool weight of the silver finger

against his throat. “I’m going to find this spy and the demon and make sure she’s

dead.”

“And if she’s not?”
Raul spread his jacked to reveal his holstered assassin’s weapon—the long steel

shaft filled with special-issue bullets that would put the demon into a deathlike sleep.

“Then I’ll make sure to take her alive.”

* * * * *

Sacha let the guilt slide over her in painful waves as Vidal and André prepared Luc

for burial. Lucien watched with wary eyes from across the hold, occasionally tossing a

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glance at her or Javier like the jailer he’d become. It had now been almost two hours

since she woke to find Luc dead at her hand, and every minute was more surreal than

the last.

Luc had known her longer than anyone alive. Now he was gone. Memories of their

long friendship flashed through her mind. She still couldn’t believe she’d killed him.

First Tsura. Then Luc. Her father always told her she needed to learn to control her

power, but since Tsura’s death, she hadn’t wanted to go to that dark place again.

Now she would have to, or risk killing again.
What was worse, her service to the Resistance might now be at an end, because she

was unable to control her power. She sniffed back the emotion and leaned against the

bars, finding no comfort.

Javier crouched over Sergio’s body at the other side of the big cage. The shifted

body of his wolf took up more than half of the space, and Javier had been trying to

move him into a more efficient pose since they’d been relegated to share the same space

with the sleeping giant. According to Javier, as soon as the full moon crested out of its

brightest phase, he would shift back, awake or not.

Sacha was certain that Chax put them in the were’s cage on purpose, hoping he’d

wake while shifted and eat them alive before she returned and had to bring Sacha to

trial.

Chax hadn’t believed Sacha’s insistent retelling of what Luc had tried to do to her.

She’d thrown them in the cage, gathered everyone from their rooms, and set off for the

city. Chax had hissed something about a trial when they reached Africa, but given her

loyalty to Luc, the possibility of Sacha’s death at the hands of a shifted werewolf was

likely more appealing.

Javier pushed Sergio’s legs underneath his big body and glanced over at Sacha. She

felt a flash of fear radiate toward her and turned back to the large open space of the

hold. Lucien glared at her and an audible growl sounded from Javier’s throat.

Javier moved quickly across the cage to put his body between her and Lucien, never

making eye contact with her. She searched his face, but he glared at the vampire and his

body thrummed.

Lucien thumbed his nose. “You’re finally going to get what you deserve, whore.”
With a flex of his shoulders, Javier stood at full height in the cage, his chest thrust

forward, head bent slightly. He raised a long, tattooed arm and pointed at Lucien’s

white face across the darkening hold. “You speak to her again and I will come through

these bars, vampire.”

“You don’t scare me, rougarou.” Lucien’s crude snarl almost hid the word from

Sacha’s ears, but now, without the linguistor to translate for her, she perked. French, but

not French. She’d heard this accent, this word, somewhere before.

André turned away from Luc’s body. “Stop it, both of you.”

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“Don’t you see?” Lucien pointed a stubby finger at the cage and looked to André

for solidarity. “She’s been the one killing the crew. She led our coven into certain death

with her compatriots from Europe for Progress.” Lucien’s lips flattened into a line and

paled even from their already grayish state. “She killed Gabrielle.”

Sacha couldn’t help but laugh. Deep and full and from her belly. The idea that she

would be in league with the Empire? And she knew Gabrielle was not dead.

Lucien leapt toward her. “Don’t laugh at me, cocotte!” His face roiled in emotion,

from anger to hate to disgust. And he’d slipped back into his strangely accented French

again.

André shook his head and returned to helping Vidal with Luc’s body. “We don’t

know anything yet, Lucien. Sacha is our leader, and it would be unwise of us to assume

anything as yet.”

“Tuat t’en grosse bueche,” Lucien spat.
The contrast was stark. André’s beautiful Parisian and Lucien’s stilted drawl.

Cocotte sounded so familiar. The connotation wasn’t hard to pick up, although she

wasn’t quite sure of the direct translation because she couldn’t remember for the life of

her what kind of French this was.

All she knew was Lucien wasn’t who he said he was. Which meant Gabrielle wasn’t

either. And after she and Javier had seen Gabrielle with the weapon of the enemy, she

knew the female vampire’s loyalty. Now there was little doubt in Sacha’s mind that

Lucien was in league with his sister.

Javier flexed his muscles in front of her, starting with his legs and rippling up to his

biceps, as though reminding Lucien how perfectly he could control his body. The

slightly pudgy vampire snarled back and Sacha put her hand on Javier’s shoulder.

“Please. Don’t bait him.”
She pushed out to read Lucien’s thoughts, but found only feelings. Hatred of her,

fear of Javier, and nothing else. Relatively harmless, but she wanted Javier to marshal

his strength. If they had a chance to escape, they might need it. And if Sergio woke

before he’d shifted, they definitely would.

Vidal and André picked up Luc’s body, wrapped in white cloth, and carried him

toward the door. As they passed Lucien, Vidal kicked the vampire’s feet and snarled.

“Get your shovel, Lucien.”
The younger vampire shook his head. “I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
Vidal kicked at his feet again. “They’re not going anywhere, and I’m not leaving

you here alone with them. So either you and André go out to bury the body or you’re

coming with us.”

Lucien shook his head, his hair flopping against his forehead. “I’m not leaving you

alone with them. You’ll release them.”

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André pushed out a melodramatic sigh and took one hand off Luc’s shoulder to

pull at Lucien’s coat. “Quickly, boy. The faster we get the body in the ground, the faster

you can be back to your watch.”

Lucien’s shoulders dropped and he stood. He reached for the trio of shovels they’d

left after burying Angus.

Vidal’s handsome countenance darkened and he blinked into Sacha’s gaze. “We

bury too many friends.” She felt his despair. It seemed everyone had lost someone in

this fight, and while Javier had lost everyone, Vidal had lost brothers as well. Men

whose well-being he’d taken responsibility for, as their alpha. Whom he had also let

down.

And burying another body reminded them all of the ones they’d already buried.

Each mind carried faces of someone they loved that they’d lost in this fight.

While Sacha was wary of the mounting death, she was afraid that they hadn’t yet

seen the worst of it.

“Death is not the end,” she said, attempting to push some comfort toward Vidal.

She concentrated on sending out a release of responsibility, and even the momentary

relaxation of his shoulders as they left the hold felt like a victory.

Suddenly, the hold was empty, save herself and Javier and a giant, shifted

werewolf, and she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do more—kiss him or slap him

across the face.

She opted for neither and simply sank down into her skirts against the bars. The

enormity of what she’d done—what they’d almost done—washed over her again like a

wet, heavy wind. It stilled her lips and salted her tears.

“What is it, carina?” Javier’s voice hung between them as did her silence. He knelt

next to her and rubbed his hands down her arms, as though to warm her.

“I don’t know what to do with you anymore, Javier.”
His large, brown wolf’s eyes studied her. Part predator, part protector. She’d

known him only a span of days and yet she felt more enmeshed and vulnerable with

Javier than she ever had with Luc.

A part of her wanted to flee at that thought.
“You don’t have to do anything with me, Sacha.” Javier wrapped his arms around

her, put her back to his chest, and held her tight against himself, resting his chin atop

her head and groaning. “What we have been through these last days, anyone would

question. Anyone would be afraid.”

“I may be afraid of the Empire, yes.” Sacha rested her hands on his and let her body

melt into the form he gave her. Arms over arms, body over body, breath on breath. “But

you scare me more than Benjamin Disraeli himself.”

She closed her eyes and braved the trek into Javier’s mind. A memory of her in the

Barcelona street flashed over his mounting desire. She didn’t understand this

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overwhelming desire he felt for her, except that there was a mirrored craving in her

own heart. But how it got there or why it continued to grow was beyond her.

She’d never felt this for Luc, or any man she’d been with before.
Javier’s Spanish thoughts were a mystery to her, but the pictures that continued to

occupy him fanned her lust. She made intentional contact with his groin and felt the

beginnings of his erection pulsing there.

Seconds from death if the werewolf awoke, imprisoned unfairly, and all she could

think of was how much she wanted this man naked and inside her. And, if she were

honest, how much she wanted to be inside him. Maybe forever. This man who saw her

as she was.

What a relief it was to be in someone’s arms who wasn’t thinking of his dead wife

or his first love or his prostitute or his unrequited interest. And yet. As Javier’s hands

roamed up her belly and cupped her breasts through the stiff fabric of her dress, she

couldn’t stop the thought that she couldn’t hide from Javier. He was intent on her, he

desired only her, and there was nowhere she could run that he wouldn’t find her. Even

in his own mind.

Javier could sense fear in her as he kneaded her clothed breasts. It wasn’t the

prospect of making love, because they’d done that. It wasn’t the fear of Sergio waking,

because he’d sensed that in her already, and it was far less intense. No, this was

something altogether different, and it puzzled him.

He stopped his ministrations and considered asking her. But as soon as his fingers

stilled, she groaned.

“Oh, don’t stop.”
“Are you sure, carina?” He smoothed her black hair over her left shoulder and bent

down to kiss the exposed neck. “They could come back any minute.”

She sighed. “They’re not coming back anytime soon. Besides, I could sense them

before they got inside the hold anyway.”

He began to stroke the weight of her breasts again. “If you insist.”
“I just want to be with you again.” She turned into him and found his lips, kissing

over her shoulder. Javier raised a hand to her cheek and stroked it in tandem with the

thrust of his tongue.

Sacha twisted onto her knees and pressed against him as she returned his kiss. He

loved the feel of her skin, the gentle dance of her tongue with his. A bright warmth

spread through his chest as he leaned into her.

He plunged his hand into her dress and sought out the warmth of her wet pussy.

To his absolute pleasure, he found her to be without undergarments, and made short

work of finding her clitoris and getting into an easy stroke.

With her legs straddled around his waist, her whole vagina opened to him. The

hood of her clitoris had come back to reveal the sensitive nub he caressed with his

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thumb, and her lips were parted and ready for his middle finger to enter her. Sacha

shuddered and rose up onto her knees.

This was how he wanted her always. Pleasured, relaxed, happy. Wet for him, but

more importantly, satisfied. He didn’t want her to have to worry about the Resistance,

or about assassins and enclaves of magic, or about her own powers and their

consequences. He just wanted her to be climaxing around his hand or his tongue or his

cock.

In her writhing, she rubbed against his now fully hard erection, and he wanted to

either still her or reposition her. But she was still coming in her pleasure, and he left

himself to suffer a little longer while he drank in her happiness.

He couldn’t run from this any longer. His whole existence revolved around her—

around what she needed and felt. Around her protection and her pleasure. Javier had

never planned to fall in love again after Mira, but Sacha had taken him by storm. She

had been with him in his most vulnerable moments and managed to make him feel

every inch the man his father raised him to be.

Sacha sagged against him and whispered something in his ear he didn’t

understand. It may have been English—there were certainly plenty of English words he

didn’t recognize—but he imagined it was some kind of Gypsy tongue. She tried to hide

it, but he’d seen enough Gypsies to know the general feel of their language, and he

could hear it in her.

“What was that, carina?”
She laughed and whispered, “You make quick work of my coming.”
“I do indeed.”
When she pulled back to reach between them for his cock, he noticed something

glittering on her cheek. A tear. He grabbed her hands.

“What’s wrong, Sacha?”
She flicked a graceful finger to her cheek and wiped away the evidence. “Just

happy.”

But he remembered her fear. And the tears unnerved him. “I don’t think these are a

sign of mirth, my love. What are you afraid of?”

A ripple of shock cascaded over her beautiful face. “I’ve asked you this before,

Javier, and you’ve never answered me.” She met his eyes, squarely. “Are you an

Empath?”

He laughed. “Not like you.” Javier moved his hand up to her heart and placed it

over the thrumming organ. “I can sense fear, like any predator. It’s more like reading

the outside.” He pressed his finger into the soft flesh of her breast where her heart beat.

“I can hear the thud of your fear.” He touched the side of her face. “I can see your eyes

change, your face.”

Javier took her face in both hands and kissed her, skimming his tongue over her

bottom lip as he pulled away. “I read the outside. But you can read the inside.”

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A rueful smile crossed her lips and she nodded. “You are always so good at reading

me. I was beginning to wonder.”

He kissed those lips again, and the smile was gone before he finished. Her fear

returned. “What is it you’re afraid of, carina?”

Sacha’s hands went so quickly to the unfastening of his pants, he almost didn’t

expect it when the wet warmth of her sheathed him. He’d been so hard and ready, he

slid home quickly enough that she was fully seated and looking into his eyes before he

felt the need to repeat his question.

“I’m afraid of you, Javier.” Sacha’s black hair tumbled behind her as she began to

ride him, leaning back so that her breasts fairly popped out their invitation.

“Why, my love?”
She gasped as he found her breasts again, this time with more force. Instead of

answering, she latched on to his mouth and explored him as she rode him. Her

breathing hitched and she threw her arms around his neck, pressing harder into his

body.

“Please don’t ask me questions like this.”
Something in the tone of her voice was so dismissive, it took him completely out of

his desire. This used to happen to him with Mira so often. He wanted more than she

could give and when he asked too much, she shut down. The memory of it was perhaps

more fresh than he cared to admit, and when he indulged it, Sacha’s eyebrows

narrowed.

It had been such a brief flash. Surely she couldn’t have been in his mind at that

exact moment. Surely, she was so caught up in her own desire, she wasn’t governing his

thoughts as well as her own.

Instead of trying to distract her, he allowed himself to get swept back into the

moment. The feel of her clamping around him was heavenly, and the combination of

her scent and her raw sexual energy intoxicated him. It was easy to get lost in making

love to Sacha. She was everything he’d ever wanted.

Finally, she leaned forward and kissed him, a tentative move that turned into raw

need as soon as their flesh met. She moved on him like an animal and soon was panting

through the tension before her orgasm.

He reached between them to stroke her clitoris with a heavier pressure than she

would have gotten from mere fucking, and the need to please her returned. Consumed

him. He would have given anything to draw out the moments before she climaxed,

when she needed him so completely. His desire spread from his chest, outward,

through his entire body, and heated the raw end of every nerve until he could think of

nothing but exploding inside her. Marking her.

And yet just as she was about to crest and fall into him, she pulled back, fortified,

and held. The fear returned.

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Javier tried to stroke her back to abandon, but she was like a rabbit in the arms of a

wolf. Her fear overwhelmed her desire, and she hesitated from surrendering, even as

her orgasm took her into ecstasy. He could see the walls, as clearly as if she’d built them

out of brick and mortar.

His need drove him into her, thrusting up with as much power as he could muster

and edging into anger. At least with Mira, he’d never needed her to be completely his. It

had been enough that she had been with him.

With Sacha, he needed her capitulation as much as he needed his subsequent

breath. He needed to know that he could be inside her, more than physically. He

wanted to crawl into her heart and camp out there.

But with her heart walled up, he was left in the dark and the cold. He gave in to his

orgasm almost reluctantly, shearing the air with anguished pleasure. As she collapsed

against him, she felt further from him than she had ever been. The despair that he could

touch her and be so shut out by her fear shook him to the core. For just a moment, he

wished to be back in Mira’s bed, where they’d both been alone, but never lonely.

He saw it with such clarity. The particular moment after Mira had fallen upon him

for the last time. Her need had been for companionship, not for Javier. And his had

been for someone to take away the certainty that he wasn’t the man he should be. Yet

with the understanding between them that there was no love lost, sex had been pure

pleasure, with no promises.

Sacha stiffened in his arms.
He regretted his indulgent memory as quickly as it faded. “Sacha,” he whispered.

But she was already climbing off him, her hands pushing at his chest and arranging her

skirts around her.

Javier grabbed her arms. “Sacha, it’s not what you think.”
Except it was. In the moment they should have been closest, he had been far away.

And thinking of another. The shame caught in his throat.

“Don’t touch me.” She wrenched her arm from his hand and slapped him hard in

the process.

But he couldn’t stop trying to gather her into his arms. To undo what he had done.

To bring them close again. “Please, Sacha. I’m sorry. You need to understand.”

Tears lined her darkening eyes and a scream tore through the air just as the world

went white.

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Chapter Sixteen

She’d killed them.
When Sacha awoke to find herself alone in the middle of the hold, the cage door

open and no one in sight, she knew Javier and Sergio must be dead at her hand. Just as

Luc had been.

She felt her body with slow fingers and found all her clothes to be in place. No

marks or wounds that she could discern. Just the typical achy joints and uncertain

vision. It would be best if she could lie here a moment longer.

Unfortunately, all that would play in her head was the memory of Javier’s betrayal.

She tried to give all of herself to him, and he had wished to be with his dead lover. After

being so convinced that she finally found a man who wanted only her, that had been

more betrayal than she could stomach.

She felt the moment where she could have held back, but her anger was so

complete, she pressed out with all the might she could muster. If she was honest, there

had been a moment where she wanted to kill him. She wanted him to feel what it was

like to be without hope. Without life. As she always felt the moment she recognized her

current lover’s real agenda. Their need for sex, their need for comfort, their lack of need

for her.

With Javier, it was supposed to be different. He’d seen her so perfectly from the

start. And now, just when her fears started to melt away, he struck her the lowest blow

of them all.

Lying in the middle of the empty hold, with not a soul to hear her, Sacha began to

weep. The sobs took her slowly at first, halting her breath, but then they overtook her.

She rolled onto her stomach and pounded the wood floor. She didn’t know which she

wanted to curse more fervently—her power, or the lover she’d used it on.

And she hadn’t even done it intentionally. She always pulled back right before

orgasm, so she wouldn’t have to see what darkness lay in men’s hearts at their most

unguarded moment. But with Javier, the hesitation had been only temporary, and she

sought his mind to companion hers as they both tumbled into each other.

She wasn’t certain what would happen, at first. Always on guard against her

power, she never let it fully take her, not since Tsura. A deep grief seized her heart. Not

until Luc. When she pushed her anger out completely, she knew she could kill.

She hadn’t known at first, of course. Or Tsura would still be alive. But when those

men fell upon them, she’d had no choice. Tsura, who had no magic in her blood,

begged Sacha to save her. Luc’s young wife had seen Sacha’s powers in brief form. And

Sacha tried to shield Tsura when she did unleash her anger. But she hadn’t been able to

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control it. Yes, she’d killed the horrible men who set upon them, but she’d killed her

best friend in the process.

There had been a tiny part or her, when she’d pushed at Luc, who wanted to hurt

him for loving Tsura more, and forever. For never loving her. The small voice of control

had been silenced, and she lashed out to protect herself, to wound him, to end his

horrifying assault.

With Luc, it had been much more deliberate. With Javier, she’d just wanted to hurt

him so badly for his wounding her. She didn’t know if there was even a modicum of

control in her at that moment. As the sobs subsided, she lay in darkness and wished she

would have learned better control of her dangerous anger. Especially since that lack of

control had cost her the three people in the world who mattered the most to her.

You always hurt the ones you love, her father had told her. You must learn control. Well,

even the control he taught her before his own death wasn’t enough.

“I take it back,” she whispered. “God forgive me, I take it back.”
A tiny creak jolted her awake. She whipped her head up and craned around in the

semidarkness of the hold, searching out its source and finding none.

“Who’s there?”
Another creak sounded, and closer this time. She closed her eyes and listened for

the direction of the quiet footsteps. With careful precision, she felt for the person who

approached her, and came upon a consciousness she didn’t recognize and couldn’t

place. It was empty. Or very well fortified with magic.

“What do you want to take back, Sacha?” A deep, rumbling voice sounded in the

recesses of the hold, behind crates. It reminded her of Javier, but without his thick

Spanish accent.

“Who are you?”
“I’m your assassin.” The voice was closer, but the speaker still not visible.

Somewhere off to her left, toward the dock.

Did Vidal and André take the bodies out to bury them and leave the ship open?

How would a stranger be able to get onto the ship otherwise? Luc always…well, they

had always left a guard on the gangway.

But with everyone else in the city and her guards out burying bodies, there would

be no one left to protect her. Goddamit, where was Javier when she needed him?

Dead, Sacha. And you killed him.
“I’ve longed to meet you face to face,” she said. If she lay here long enough, most of

her functions might return. And if all else failed, she might be able to kill him with her

power, although she’d never tried to do it so quickly back-to-back and had no idea if

her power was as weak as her body in that moment.

“You’ve seen my face, girl.” An odd, squishing noise sounded left of her, and not

far away at all. This voice was higher. Not the same as the other. “In fact, you know

me.”

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“Gabrielle?”
The female-esque laugh rang in the hollow room, and at last, the voices spoke at

once. So there were two of them.

“Who else? Lucien?”
Gabrielle chuckled. “Lucien? Ha!” This time, the footsteps were clear. They were

still behind the large wooden crates they used for food storage, but they were closer. If

she could pool enough strength, she might be able to kill them both where they stood.

“I told you, I am your assassin.” This was the voice that reminded her of Javier. The

animal-like quality to the depth of his rumbly bass. “Put that away, Gabrielle.”

“No.”
“You’re not going to kill her. I have orders to take her alive.”
“Orders from whom?”
An exasperated sigh revealed the same tightly leashed brutish fury that Javier

sometimes exhibited. Javier. She paused and remembered his face. This memory, she

would need to etch into her head. If she was never to see his face again, she would need

at least to see him in her mind’s eye. She couldn’t go forever without seeing his face.

“Mr. Benjamin himself.”
Benjamin? Sacha pressed toward their minds, but both were locked up so tight, she

couldn’t get any kind of read—even an emotional one. This was definitely training.

Magic couldn’t hide emotions, although it could hide thoughts.

Gabrielle laughed. Not the rich, beautiful sound of a woman, but the cold,

calculated laugh of a superior with secret knowledge. “Which one?”

Whether too stunned or too confused to reply, the assassin let his guard down for a

moment, and Sacha got into his mind. She saw a flash of an old man in a black suit, and

an opulent room. But rather than anger, Sacha sensed an overwhelming fear.

Memories flipped through the assassin’s mind as he was overcome with fear.

Memories of a striking brunette and a small, black-haired boy. As he relived happy

moments, she saw them as well. But then the foggy haze of imagination took hold, and

she saw the woman and the boy in a dark room, chained to a gray rock wall, being

whipped and tortured by the old man from the apartment.

Then, nothing. Either he couldn’t imagine beyond their torture, or he’d realized his

mistake and refortified his mind. Whichever it had been, Sacha had not only seen the

pictures, she’d felt his crippling fear, his gut-wrenching love, and most of all, his

desperation. His anxiety all centered around saving them from this fate. Or preventing

whatever came afterward. She couldn’t quite tell which, because as soon as the words

came, she’d been overwhelmed by yet another language she didn’t know.

It had been Italian this time, though, she was relatively certain.
Gabrielle’s mind, however, was shut up like a tomb. Not an emotion or a memory

leaked out, even for a split second.

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Sacha took a deep breath and assessed her internal balance. Strength returned with

every inhale and clarity with every exhale. But she still didn’t know if she’d be able to

strike at all so quickly after having used her power. She needed them to get closer.

“Kill me if you must.”
Gabrielle’s amusement was joyless. Full of pity, if anything. “Oh, don’t worry about

that, girl. We’ll kill you.” Her superiority was so complete, Sacha wondered just how

deep in the Empire’s counsel this woman was. Her resilience to mind probing was

extensive, and her pride prodigious.

The assassin swore and stepped forward with loud footfalls. “You’re not going to

kill her. We need her.”

“We don’t need her.” Gabrielle was closer this time. Her voice echoed around the

crates. If only they’d have relit the damn lamps. “I have her maps. Her lover led me

right to them. We know precisely where all the inferiors are.”

She’d said the word lover with such venom, and for a moment, a picture of Luc

appeared in Gabrielle’s mind. Sacha had no doubt it was planted to throw her off, but

Gabrielle obviously knew little of how the human mind worked. One opening, even an

intentional one, was still an opening. Sacha mentally latched on to the image of Luc and

Gabrielle entwined in his bed and pressed through it into Gabrielle’s mind.

With extensive resistance, Sacha continued to push and finally broke in with

unrestricted sight. What she saw shocked and disgusted her, and she retched aloud at

the macabre contents of Gabrielle’s mind. But as creatures were wont to do, Gabrielle

went immediately to the one thought she didn’t want Sacha to see.

An image of Gabrielle standing over two familiar bodies with a maniacal glee in her

heart. The assassin’s wife and son. Bloodied. Beheaded. Dead.

* * * * *

Javier opened his eyes to a heavy throbbing in his head, and a familiar face

hovering above him. He focused in on Sergio’s young features and a sense of release

overtook him. The tears that had been threatening to burst through his consciousness

for days finally soaked his cheeks and he threw his arms around Sergio’s neck.

Sergio embraced him as well, and offered wordless comfort until Javier recovered.
Javier couldn’t help the laugh that escaped when he finally pulled back and took in

Sergio’s face again. “Mother of God, man.” He clapped his young compatriot on the

shoulder. “Twice now, I’ve thought you were dead.”

Sergio’s face was suddenly somber. The reunion over, he had something important

on his mind.

“What is it?” Javier asked.
Sergio stood and Javier realized for the first time that they were in the midst of a

heavily treed area, and both shivering against the cold night. Sergio walked to the thick,

mottled trunk of a giant chestnut tree and leaned against it.

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“I had to get you out of that ship.” Suddenly, as though he realized Javier was there

for the first time, Sergio turned and sank to his knees beside him. “The woman who

killed the Scotsman, she was there.”

Javier tried to concentrate on Sergio’s words and blinked against the darkness. The

musty dankness of the forest flooded his senses and he tried to think of who Sergio

meant. “The Scotsman?”

“In the forest, by the river.” Sergio looked around. “It wasn’t here. But it wasn’t

Spain—I didn’t recognize it. She killed him and drenched her corset in his blood.” He

helped Javier into a sitting position and rested him against the rough trunk of a tree.

Corset and blood. That, Javier remembered. They’d gone looking for Gabrielle.

Found her corset by the river. Then it came back to him. Angus. And Sergio’s body in

the forest. They all thought he’d killed Angus, but it must have been this woman,

although how a woman could disfigure a body like that. Was it Gabrielle? A vampire

could never do that kind of damage.

Sergio rested his hand on Javier’s shoulder. “You stay here and I’ll find you some

food. We’re going to find a way to get this ridiculous silver contraption off your arm.

But in the meantime, we need to get back to Barcelona.”

Javier shook his head at Sergio’s quick retreat. “No.”
Sergio turned and his long face curled into a confused stare. “You want to keep the

silver leash? Fine. But we have to get you back to the Avinguda.”

“There is nothing left for us there.” Javier swept his hand across his face, felt the

days’ growth there, and paused. He remembered the burned carcasses of buildings, and

people, that had littered their old home. Barcelona was the front of the war on magic.

Hell, everywhere was the front these days.

Mother of God. Sacha! Javier tried to stand, and his still-shaky legs floundered a bit.

“We have to get back to the ship.”

“No.”
“I need to get to Sacha. If Vidal and André return and we’re gone, Lucien will kill

her, I’m sure.”

Sergio cocked his head. “The demon?”
Javier had to remind himself that Sergio had been under the assassin’s spell most of

the time he’d been on board, and didn’t have the familiarity with Sacha or the crew or

passengers that he had.

He brushed past Sergio, feeling steadier now. “I have to go back for her.” The

younger were followed. For the first time, Javier noticed an unfamiliar scent about his

companion. He stopped and sniffed Sergio’s familiar white tunic.

“You smell strange, brother.” He stretched the tunic sleeve between his fingers and

sniffed closer. “Like nothing natural or magical.”

Sergio’s wiry arms tightened under the tunic and he pushed Javier back a good

foot. “You accuse me of being other than I am?”

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“No, that’s not it.” Javier sniffed again. He scanned their surroundings, looking for

the source of the unusual smell. “I smell you, but there’s something else.”

Sergio put his own shirt to his nose and inhaled. “I haven’t been shifted that long in

ages. The whole moon cycle, I imagine. Maybe it’s residual animal.”

Javier shook his head. He smelled Sergio’s wolf as well. This was something

altogether other. He closed his eyes and let the smell wash over him. The more he was

aware of it, the stronger it became. “Give me your hand.”

Sergio tented his generous eyebrows and finally offered his left hand. The scent

wasn’t there. Not on his arm. Or his shirt. Javier stepped closer and smelled his hair,

then moved behind him. There it was. He leaned in. On his neck. Javier felt his friend’s

neck and his fingers found two deep indentations. “This.”

Tiny trickles of blood still poured from the little wounds. “Vampire,” Javier snarled.

He smelled the saliva of a vampire, applied to Sergio’s wound in an attempt to close it

and make it undetectable. But a shifted werewolf wouldn’t have responded to vampire

magic.

The more Javier saw of these vampires, the more he wanted to kill a few.

Specifically, he’d like to get his hands on Gabrielle and Lucien…

Sergio replaced Javier’s hand with his own. “It was the woman.” He rubbed his

neck and Javier swore in realization. His chest tightened.

“Sacha may well be alone on that ship with the vampire’s brother.” He moved

through the trees, not even caring if Sergio was behind him anymore. The scratch of the

tree branches on his skin barely registered as he bustled through to the clearing and the

ship was in sight.

“You can’t risk yourself, Javier.” Sergio’s firm hand on his shoulder stopped Javier’s

forward progress, but not his motivation. “Not for some demon we don’t know and

can’t trust. You’re our alpha.”

“The pack is gone, Sergio. We are the last of our brothers.” He turned to his young

friend and let the sadness of the last days wash over him again. “I am the leader no

more.”

“Don’t you see? If they were hit with the same bullets as me, then they’re no more

dead than I am.” Sergio pulled at Javier’s shirt and the seam ripped just enough to

produce a sound that sliced through the dark silence of the Italian night.

Javier let that thought roll through his consciousness, but still, the image of Sacha in

danger brought his blood into a heated frenzy. The more he let that picture reign in his

mind, the more the wolf in him clawed at his silver leash, as Sergio had called it.

If Sacha was in danger in there, he would cut his arm off to rid himself of this

muzzle so he could unleash his wolf on her attacker. Dammit, he loved that woman,

and nothing on earth was going to get in his way if he wanted to protect her.

He picked up his pace again. “We may not have much time. They were coming

back just after—”

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The sound of Lucien’s voice halted Javier and he pulled Sergio toward the nearest

bush cover. Lucien, Vidal and André walked across the moonless clearing, their shapes

barely visible, but their voices cutting through the air.

“We can’t wait for Africa,” Lucien was saying. Javier put his finger over his lips and

shook his head at Sergio. The three figures, all carrying shovels, entered the clearing

from a good hundred yards away. In the bushes, Javier and Sergio had the advantage.

They crouched less than five yards from the walkway. As the three men passed, they

could mount some sort of surprise attack. But they’d never be able to get on the ship

first, not without being noticed.

“You’re not going to lay a hand on any of them until we know for sure what

happened,” Vidal said. Judging from the relative speed of his movements and the angle

of his voice, Vidal was in front, which mean that Lucien was behind him, and the much

taller André took up the rear.

“For the girl’s sake, we’re going to honor that,” André said, sniffing. “She saved me,

and my entire coven. You’re not going to kill her for some petty revenge that you can’t

even prove.” André’s brassy voice got higher with each syllable. “And I am your

leader!”

“You are nothing of the sort,” Lucien sneered.
Fifty yards. They were moving slower than Javier anticipated. Not on a mission.

Returning from one.

Javier reached out to Sacha, hoping she could hear him. He pushed at his thoughts,

shouting internally as loud as he could. They’re coming back, Sacha!

With bitter nostalgia, Javier remembered the first time he’d mentally shouted at her.

A lifetime ago. Or a week. His pack had been intact, if a violent scourge on the darker

corners of Barcelona, thanks to their insatiable hunger, and the unrest of the impending

magic wars.

But still, they had been intact. And ready to feast on the young Englishwoman who

stumbled into their midst. Yet she hadn’t stumbled at all. She’d been led. And he’d

followed, like a puppy to the slaughter.

Thirty yards.
There was no getting around it now. He was going to have to pounce on Lucien and

hope that Vidal and André would forgive him. There was no time to communicate with

Sergio. Even a whisper would have been heard, and with no moon from the cloud

cover, they couldn’t very well make eye contact in the near black of their cover.

“Well, as the reigning alpha aboard this ship, I take responsibility for them. They’re

part of our pack now, and anything they may or may not have done, we will handle

with our own law.” Vidal’s growl was more audible than Javier would have expected,

given the presence of the Prata Mudanca on his arm.

Part of him was relieved to have the title of alpha claimed by someone else, and

part of him rebelled against the idea of being part of another pack, especially one where

he and his brother wolf would be outsiders. Still.

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Fifteen yards.
A hair-raising scream rent the air and all three men stopped dead in their tracks.

Javier took a breath as they started to run for the ship, and when they were close

enough, he took aim and lunged at Lucien with all the power he could summon from

his inner wolf, caged or not.

It took him a moment to recognize that the scream he’d heard wasn’t Sacha, and as

he hit Lucien and tumbled to the ground, he wished he’d chosen to run up that

walkway instead of spend his time on petty revenge. Any more seconds wasted trying

to down this miserable worm, and there might not be enough left to allay whatever

threat was on its way to her.

Lucien hit the ground with a sickening crack and Javier landed in a crouch next to

his body, staring up at André and Vidal with animal ferocity. “Something is in there

with Sacha. We have to go to her.”

“Javier? What in the blazes?” André stumbled over the words, but managed to get

them all out. His long, ashen face still registered more shock than anything, and his big,

open eyes stared unblinking at Javier.

“How did you get out?” Vidal asked, clapping Javier on the shoulder. “Thank the

gods you’re all right.”

“Sergio.” Javier nodded back toward the bushes, although he could see only dark

masses. Now closer to the light of the Harbinger, he found that the rest of the landscape

faded to black out of his vision. “He’s the resident pickpocket in our pack. He

outsmarted the lock.”

“Sacha is still inside?” Vidal helped Javier to his feet and both men panted through

their adrenaline.

“Yes.” Javier turned and catapulted up the walkway, toward the hold.
“What about Lucien?” Vidal asked.
“Bring him,” he called over his shoulder. All that mattered now was getting to

Sacha. He could afford to waste no more time.

* * * * *

Sacha recoiled at Gabrielle’s shriek and the assassin’s face curled into a sneer of

disgust. The tiny vampire’s gray fingers pried at her temples and her now fiery eyes

met Sacha’s in a flare.

“Stay out of my head, witch.”
“I’m no witch,” Sacha fired back. “You opened your mind to me. You wanted him

to know that you killed his family.”

As the assassin reached into his cloak, Gabrielle’s fingers pried open the vial that

hung around her neck. She drained the contents in one gulp and laughed.

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“Just try to stop me now, dog,” she snarled. Gabrielle’s pretty features began to

shift into something that could only be described as animalistic. This wasn’t a vampire

change, as Sacha had initially expected. The fangs that emerged through her snarls

weren’t for draining blood, and they didn’t belong to any creature of the night.

The assassin’s dark features flourished as he produced his double-barreled coppery

firearm. Sacha could have sworn she saw tears on his cheeks as he fired.

The first bullet struck a shifting Gabrielle in the chest. The second in the neck. He

reloaded and fired again, lodging one in her forehead, and missing her the last time

altogether. The trajectory sent the bullet flying past Sacha’s head and it missed her as

well.

But as she had said, they didn’t stop Gabrielle. They didn’t even slow down her

transformation. Her limbs crackled and her features expanded until she was a big,

hulking beast that resembled a fully grown werewolf, but wasn’t exactly that, either.

The creature’s mouth contained three sets of teeth, varying in sharpness and gruesome

fright. It fairly smiled at them.

Sacha found her breath and froze in front of the animal’s pitch-black eyes. This was

the animal that had mauled Elias and Angus, that had pulled the skin and flesh right off

their bones. Whatever it was, it was horrifying.

With a wolf-like head and a short snout, it had an almost catlike posture. It watched

them with pleasure, moving its all-black eyes the way two pieces of coal might move in

pea soup—like smooth, inky stones in murky liquid.

The wooden Prata on Gabrielle’s arm had expanded with her size and the wooden

sphere blended into the black-gray fur of the animal, obviously not stopping a shift of

any kind. Sacha’s breath seized in her throat. The Prata should stop the shift! They were

forged to keep the magic at bay. Perhaps they only stopped her turning into a vampire.

But this creature was infinitely worse.

The creature laughed at them. Laughed.
The assassin had reloaded his gun and was shooting again. Another shot in the

chest, and another in its broad forehead. Still, nothing. He reloaded again.

“Don’t bother,” the creature said. Somehow, it could not only smile and accomplish

an almost human sense of emotion, but it could laugh. And talk. It swiped at the

assassin, who tried to raise his guard, but the clawed paw hit him square in the head

and he went flying across the room, then sprawled into a dark corner near the door.

“Gabrielle, you don’t have to do this.” Sacha felt futile even as the words crossed

her lips. She might be able to summon great speeches and read minds, but the best she

could come up with was absolutely worthless in the face of this giant hybrid monster.

“Of course I do, Sacha. That’s what you just don’t understand.” The giant catlike

animal stood and pounced across the room onto the cage. For the first time, Sacha was

thankful for the depth of this cage, because it caught Gabrielle before her massive jaws

got anywhere near Sacha’s delicate bones.

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Sacha panted and crammed herself as far back in the cage as she could manage.

“Enlighten me.”

The cat-creature smiled again, its rows of teeth more visible through receding

gums, and somehow more macabre with each second. “I’d rather kill you.” Gabrielle

reached a paw through the bars and Sacha gasped when it came a foot short of her

heaving chest.

The cat-wolf prowled around the outside of the cage and Sacha inched along with

it, keeping the farthest distance possible always between her and it.

“I’m a simple woman,” the cat-wolf said, its black lips roiling around its teeth.

“They offered me power and money, and I took it.”

Sacha calculated the distance at the cage’s shallowest point. She would be lucky to

escape those claws at all angles. Dammit, why couldn’t the assassin fell this animal? His

arrows had worked on Sergio—a full-grown werewolf. On vampires, dragons, bears,

cats, people. She’d seen those arrows fell everything they touched. But not this creature.

“But there’s hatred in your eyes,” Sacha said, creeping along the bars, feeling them

press into her back in uneven spaces, one at a time. “This isn’t about money for you.

You hate magic like the Empire.”

“I’ve been with Mr. Benjamin since I was a little girl. Since before I became this.”

The Gabrielle-creature flexed its muscles. “I’ve learned to hate magic from birth.”

A wave of compassion washed over Sacha and her heart expanded against her tight

chest. Sacha knew what it felt like to hate your magic side. The picture of Tsura

returned to her mind’s eye. After her death, it took Sacha a long time to use her power

again, and when she did, it was too late to do much in the way of control.

Now she was lucky not to kill everyone in a forty-foot radius… Sacha looked

around. For the first time, she recognized the fortitude of her situation. If she could use

her powers now… She took a deep breath, trying to encourage the fearful press of her

power, and pushed out.

Nothing happened.
“Powers won’t come on call, eh?” The tone was almost sarcastic. As the animal

reached the shortened end of the cage, it swiped at Sacha again and missed by a hair.

“Don’t you know you can’t stop me, Sacha? I’m going to kill you. My people are going

to kill every last passenger on this boat, including your weakling lover.”

Sacha’s powers swelled at the mention of Javier. If only she’d been able to save him.

She looked past Gabrielle’s pulsing shoulder muscles to where the assassin lay

motionless on the floor. Maybe he was far enough away that she could spare him. She

knew his heartbreak, his desire for vengeance. He could be an ally.

Still, she had to chance it.
Sacha closed her eyes and let her anger about Javier’s death, and her anger about

Luc and Tsura grow inside her. The fear of Gabrielle and those sharp teeth ripping into

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her delicate flesh rippled through her mind, and her power swelled again. She tried as

best she could to unleash it completely.

But there was no flash of white light. No unconsciousness. And when Sacha peered

out into the hold, she saw the drooling, snarling cat-monster prowling in front of her

cage, still.

A pang of anger shot through her. Why couldn’t she control this power? Direct it?

Why did it only kill unintentionally? Luc. Javier. Sergio. Tsura. Damn useless mess of a

power if it couldn’t be used, as Gabrielle had said, on command.

Gabrielle’s stalking suddenly halted, and she flipped her attention to the door of the

hold. Sacha couldn’t see the door, since it was behind her, but she tried her best to listen

for thoughts. There was a jumble of hushed whispered thoughts and pictures of the

darkened hold outside the door. Gabrielle obviously heard something and Sacha felt for

telltale signs of who it could be.

Before she could make anything specific out, the door burst open and four men

burst in. Among them was the most welcome face she could have imagined. The fierce,

protective eyes of her lover met hers at once and held her gaze, as though Javier assured

himself with each second that she was alive and well.

A silent sadness stole through her as she took him in. She’d thought him dead, and

here he was. Yet to face Gabrielle with no protection—what chance did they have?

The cat-wolf growled, its silver-tipped fur curling down hard against its body and

its ears pricking back. The growl wasn’t exactly animal-like. But it wasn’t precisely

magical, either. Sacha couldn’t place it, but it had the strangest unnatural sound, almost

like the noise passed through something other than flesh.

The four men split immediately and Gabrielle’s attention darted between each of

them. Sacha slipped along the back of the cage, coming to the side nearest Javier. The

cat-wolf crouched down on its haunches, bearing all three rows of jagged teeth. On the

far side of the room, farthest from the cage, Sergio began to change. With Gabrielle’s

attention still on Javier, Sergio was nearly complete in his change before the creature

even noticed there was another big, black, hairy beast in the hold. When she did, she

leapt the distance to Sergio and latched on to his neck.

Sergio shook her loose and her full weight careened into a stack of luggage crates in

the back of the hold, then he pounced for her again. Javier ran for the cage and Sacha

reached out for him.

When he finally grasped her hand, Sacha thought she might burst. She pulled him

to her and found his lips, suckling on him, keeping him with her.

“What is that thing?” he finally managed when he extricated himself from her. But

as soon as he finished the question, he found her mouth again and was ravaging her.

“God, when I heard that shriek, I thought I would find you dead.”

“That’s Gabrielle.”
Javier’s thick eyebrow raised and he glanced across the room where Sergio’s jaws

had found Gabrielle’s throat and an ungodly howl sounded through the hold.

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“The Empire’s weapons don’t work on her. I can’t get my powers to focus, and her

mind is locked up tight.”

Gabrielle shook loose of Sergio’s grip and lunged for his throat. When she caught

him, Sergio whimpered. He wouldn’t last much longer.

Javier offered his arm. “You have to get this thing off me.”
Sacha felt along the smooth silver surface. She’d only ever put the Prata on people.

When the seer had given her a supply of the magical implements, she hadn’t told her

how to take them off. Sacha wasn’t even sure they came off at all.

“I can’t, Javier.” She grasped his forearm by the circle of silver and pulled him into

a deep gaze. “No one has been told how to remove them.”

Javier’s countenance dropped and he glanced back at Sergio, who wailed again as

Gabrielle snapped at his back leg.

In a sickening moment, the giant cat-wolf monster turned with Sergio’s leg in her

mouth and smiled at them. Her glee left no question that she planned to come for them

next. Sacha held tighter to Javier’s arm, and before she knew it, he’d shaken loose of her

and gone to the limp body of the assassin.

Javier pulled the sword from the cloaked man’s scabbard and turned away from

Sacha. The last thing she remembered was hearing Javier’s grunt and the sickening

sound of flesh and blood and bone being severed—a sound Sacha could have lived

without ever hearing again.

Javier could feel the wolf take him as soon as he was free of the silver contraption. If

it had been loose, he might have been able to shimmy it off, but the thing had melded

into his skin like a layer of bone around his forearm. Yet he could see Sergio was failing,

and if guns hadn’t worked against her, then he would tear her apart, limb from limb.

He shifted more quickly than ever before, and suddenly, he was all wolf. Without

making a noise, he gathered his full strength and sailed across the room in two bounds,

adjusting to his lack of four legs with an instinctive adjustment of his tail. He had

Gabrielle’s neck between his jaws before she even had time to turn her head.

Javier crunched at her neck and she yowled. Sergio’s leg now released, he hobbled

across the wood floor and curled around his injury. Javier shook the cat-wolf and

chewed down on her neck, hoping to hear a crack that would signal her end. Instead,

her feet scrambled for purchase and she clawed at his chest, rending his flesh almost to

shreds. Her movements shook his carefully held balance. He opened his jaw to get a

better grip on her neck, but when he snapped shut again, her neck was gone, as was

she.

With alerted senses, he searched for her. His first instinct was to go to Sacha, but a

quick glance saw Vidal and André standing with Sacha in front of the cage, swords and

daggers in their hands.

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160

The scratch of scrabbling claws told him Gabrielle was still moving, but he couldn’t

see her. Javier pounced on top of the crates for a better view, still unbalanced by the

lack of his left paw. Just as he landed, the force of another huge body knocked him to

the ground and he felt her teeth dig into his neck.

Almost at the same time, she released him and yelped again. Javier swiveled to see

Sergio’s teeth sinking into her back. When she craned around to snap at Sergio’s body,

Javier saw his opportunity and lunged.

This time, he caught her vulnerable throat and ripped at it, his teeth lodged deep.

The taste of blood overwhelmed his lust for revenge and as he continued to chew at her

body, he saw the faces of his fallen brothers, of Mira, of Sacha and the other passengers

she’d terrorized or killed. Her reach of fear was wide, and this would be a delicious kill.

The noise she made stopped him. It was no longer an animal’s cry, but that of a

woman. Javier reined the wolf out of its bloodlust as best he could and took a step back,

just as Sergio did the same. The cat-wolf creature lay in a bloodied heap on the floor

and almost as quickly as Javier himself had shifted, she morphed into a human.

Gabrielle lay on her back, her throat and chest a bloodied mess, and Javier felt a

very human prick of regret overtake him. Suddenly at his side, he could smell Sacha.

Then, her hand rested on his shoulder and he nearly toppled forward. He hadn’t

realized he’d been so precisely balanced until then, and he sat on his haunches, letting

the sadness wash over him.

They all stared at this woman. Only moments before she’d been a psychotic animal,

bent on destroying them, but somehow, seeing the humanity reminded Javier why he’d

made the vow in Barcelona to end killing. Even taking the life of an enemy didn’t bring

back the dead. It only added to them.

Sacha knelt next to Gabrielle, taking her hand. The battered villainess lay in a pool

of her own blood and gasped as well as she could for more air. Javier was no doctor, but

he was certain she wouldn’t last long. Suddenly, being the shifted wolf seemed

barbaric, and he closed his eyes, willing the wolf back into its cage.

Once he was human again, Javier became aware of the pain in his arm he’d ignored.

Sergio sat on the bloodied floor, remaining a wolf, his ears fully forward as though he

expected there to be another fight at any moment. Behind Javier, Vidal was already

ripping cloth to tie off the wound—something Javier wished he would have thought to

do before. But the need to protect Sacha, to get his revenge…it had been so strong.

Truth be told, he wouldn’t have cared if it had killed him. It gave him what he needed

to kill Gabrielle.

“Lu… Lu… Lu…” Gabrielle wheezed. Sacha gripped her hand harder and the sight

of their bloodied, grasping fingers made Javier turn away.

“Lucien?” Sacha asked.
Across the room, two limp forms lay in a heap near the cage. Lucien was one. The

other was a black-cloaked man Javier didn’t recognize. But if he was knocked out in

Gabrielle’s presence with Sacha in a cage, he was likely her enemy, and thus, his friend.

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161

“Lucien is fine, Gabrielle.” Sacha’s words stung Javier’s heart. He couldn’t look

back at Gabrielle, dying before them.

A tight cord closed just above his elbow and Javier closed his eyes against the

pressure. Vidal was a good man, a good werewolf. A good leader. And somehow, the

fact that Javier had avenged his brothers didn’t make him feel he could put himself in

the same category.

“She’s gone,” Sacha said.
Javier opened his eyes to find her eyes on him. She’d put her hand over Gabrielle’s

eyes and frozen there. Did she think he’d been remiss in killing Gabrielle? He’d

forgotten about her being a woman when he had her neck between his teeth.

Sacha shook her head. “She would have killed us all if she could have.” Her lips

settled into a line. “You did the right thing.” She stood and focused on Javier’s arm,

tears flooding her eyes. “There was no reasoning with her or placating her. She wanted

us all dead, and nothing would have stopped her if you hadn’t.”

Sacha put her hand on his cheek and the warmth of her touch startled him.

Somehow, he’d expected coldness. Perhaps to mirror what he felt in his heart about

having to kill again.

Vidal tied another strip of cloth around Javier’s arm and patted his shoulder. “You

need to lie down, brother. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Sacha put her arm around his waist. “I’ll take him to my room and bandage that

arm. I might have a spell I can use to stem the bleeding.”

André sniffed. “Better hurry. Much longer like this and even a werewolf won’t be

able to survive.”

Vidal pointed to the back of the hold. “We’re going to have to lock Lucien in that

cage.”

“You think he’s dangerous?” Sacha asked.
Vidal shook his head. “We don’t know.”
Javier glanced back at the two bodies and sniffed. “Who is the other man?”
Sacha’s body tightened next to his and he sensed she wasn’t telling the whole truth

when she said, “A friend.”

Vidal pushed at Javier’s shoulder. “Hurry. Take care of that arm. We’ve got things

here.”

Sacha guided him to the door. “This way.”
Something inside Javier tensed and he turned back to survey the room. The

bloodied body of his enemy still lay motionless in the middle of the floor. “Shouldn’t

we stake her or cut off her head?”

Sacha turned as well and she made an affirmative grunt. “Maybe both, just to be

safe.”

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162

Vidal picked up his sword. “I’ll take care of it.” As Javier and Sacha made their way

out of the hold, the air hung thick with anticipation. Javier wondered if everyone else

expected Gabrielle to spring up from the floor and bear her fangs.

The swift thump of Vidal’s blade making final contact with the wood beneath

Gabrielle’s head made Javier’s stomach stop flipping over on itself. And while it didn’t

take away the sting of losing his pack, it did offer a finality he hadn’t realized he was

hoping for.

It is finished.

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163

Chapter Seventeen

With careful fingers, Sacha secured the bandage around the enchanted wound. It

still hurt him, as the silent wincing evidenced. She had half a mind to laugh at his alpha

pretense. Every man who bled felt pain, it was the unfortunate truth of life. Yet not

every man showed it.

“I’m still a little dumbfounded at your battle strategy.” She left her fingers on his

arm above the wound. “I had no idea your thirst for revenge was so intense.”

Javier’s dark brow creased and he reached for her. With him in her bed and her at

its side, she was just far enough to scoot out of his grasp. “Sacha.” She turned to the

bloody water. “Look at me.”

When she met his eyes, there was a depth there, and a sincerity that made her want

to read his mind. But after their lovemaking, and the consequences, she promised

herself she would never do that again without permission.

“You know what I’m thinking,” he said, a twinge of disappointment creasing

around his mouth.

“No.” She unclasped her breastplate and put it on her desk, then slipped onto the

bed beside him. “I promise you that I will never read your mind again unless you give

me leave.” Tentative fingers found his cheek and smoothed out a drop of sweat that still

remained from his exertions against the pain. “It’s not right of me to dig around in your

memories.”

He clasped her fingers and held them, moving his mouth to kiss her palm. She

expected profound gratitude at this promise, but the emotion that radiated from him

was closer to possession than thanks. Javier lifted his lips from her skin and met her

eyes. “Sacha, my love, you are welcome in any corner of my mind you care to explore.”

Her throat tightened and no breath moved into or out of her lungs for a full minute.

Some unnamed emotion filled her heart and when she did finally gulp for a breath, she

sobbed and pulled his mouth to hers.

“You don’t want me to stay out?” she whispered in a voice that reminded her of a

child. She shuddered at her sudden vulnerability, but she couldn’t stop now. “There’s

always something men don’t want me to know, some place I’m not welcome.”

“You are welcome everywhere.” Javier’s arms stole around her and the warmth of

his embrace seemed to cover every inch of her.

She relaxed into him and stared up into his deep, olive eyes. “What about Mira?”
A concerned dent appeared between his eyebrows and his whole face seemed to

change into painful lines. “I can’t promise not to mourn her, Sacha.”

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164

She looked away, the familiar emptiness creeping back into her heart. He really

would be like Luc after all. Only instead of getting a wall of silence where his dead lover

was concerned, she would get to see and experience all the pain fresh each time they

made love. No thank you.

“I would never wish to exchange you for her, carina.” He pulled her chin back

toward his face. “Look at me.”

An almost magnetic force kept her eyes fixed just beyond him. To look in his eyes

when his voice held such promise…it would be too much.

“Sacha. I mean it. I want to see that you understand this.” He tapped at the bottom

of her chin once, then twice. Instead of forcing her, grasping her, or unleashing his

anger, he just tapped at her chin again. She finally gave in.

“There. Was that so hard?” he asked.
His loving smile infuriated her, frightened her. Promised too much. Asked too

much at the same time.

“I want you to know that if I had all the power in heaven and earth, and could

make it happen right now, I would choose you.” He lifted his eyebrows and dared her.

“Search my mind if you don’t believe me.”

But she didn’t need to. She could feel the truth when she heard it.
She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. A guttural growl

she hadn’t heard before rumbled inside his chest and he pushed her back.

“The wolf is still so close, carina.” His shallow breathing continued and his eyes

closed. “Too close.”

“What’s wrong?”
His generous lips curled into a peaceful smile. “You unleash something in my

blood, Sacha. It makes him want to emerge.” Javier’s breathing normalized and he met

her gaze. “You’d have to be a shifter to understand.”

The empty darkness crowded at her heart again. Her eyebrows drew together and

her breathing stilled for a moment.

“What’s wrong, carina? What is your mind telling you now?”
She couldn’t help the smile that stole its way into her voice. He knew her so well.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer someone like Chax who was a shifter too?”

He pursed his lips and sighed. “You think I want Chax?”
“Dogs and cats. Seems to make sense.”
“You know, a cat will curl up with anything that’s warm. A dog only goes to its

master.”

“Is that what I am? Your master?”
Javier laughed, then his dark eyes glazed. “Would you like to be my master?”
Sacha ran her finger down his rippling tattoos that now ended in a white bandage

where his arm disappeared. “I’m not sure I could ever master you, Javier.”

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He caught her with his good hand and pulled her into his plundering mouth. His

kiss deepened and his hand traveled down to hers. He grunted against her kiss and

laughed then pulled her hand into his lap. His erection was warm and already firm

under his trousers.

“You’ve mastered me already,” he murmured as he sucked the sensitive skin of her

neck.

A knock sounded at her door, pulling a groan from her throat. The warmth

between her legs demanded release, and it had been too long since she’d last come

apart in his arms. Okay, so it had been only a few hours, but the need grew with every

passing moment.

“What?” she growled.
The door opened and footsteps sounded in the short passage. Vidal cleared his

throat before he stuck his head into the room. “Sacha, I just brought the last of the satyrs

on board and they want to meet you.” He tented his eyebrows at Javier. “I’m sorry if

I’ve caught you at a bad time.”

“No, we’ll be right there.” Sacha swung her legs around and put her feet on the

floor.

When the door closed behind Vidal, Javier leaned over to kiss her neck again and

Sacha felt the familiar roil of desire fold her insides into a tight mess. She put her hand

on the back of his head and held him there, moaning.

“You want me to be late to meet the new passengers?” She laughed and tangled her

fingers in the dark curls at the nape of his neck. “Leave them to their devices?”

Javier kissed her neck one more time and sat up. “No, there will be plenty of time

for this.” He pushed her to her feet and clapped her butt with his big hand. “I want you

to get out there and save the world.”

Sacha found her breastplate and relatched it around her. “I’ll be back.” She leaned

down and kissed him, pressing her full weight against his chest and reveling in his

strength. For the first time in a long time, she thought only of him when she thought of

the future. Sure, there were people who needed her, but she couldn’t wait to get back to

her lover and feel the earth move beneath them.

He sucked on her bottom lip and smiled, pushing her toward the door again. “Go,

on, Sacha.” Javier’s lips curled into a proud and knowing smile. “You have work to do.”

About the Author

Camryn Rhys grew up on the border of Canada and the U.S. and still hasn’t

decided which country to call home. She splits her time between the Alberta and

Montana Rocky Mountains, with friends and family in both beautiful locations. After

running her own restaurant for several years and acquiring advanced degrees in

writing, she started writing foodie romance, which led to all arenas of romance writing.

Whether she’s writing historical or contemporary, paranormal or erotic, she hopes to

always write romance so good you’ll feel it in your taste buds.

Camryn welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

address on her

author bio page

www.ellorascave.com

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