Geared for Pleasure (24 page)

His fingers tightened almost painfully against her flesh. “You are. In every way that counts. You are my heart. My only. Love—
Dare
.”

He dragged her against him and took her mouth again. When he joined her in oblivion, his shouts mingling with hers as they shattered together.

It was not until they were lying in her bed after hours had passed that Dare could form a coherent thought again. “I feel bad for Coral
and the others. For James Stacy. They must be worried for you. Wondering what happened.”

Bodhan lifted his lips from her neck, where he’d been gifting her with slow, tender kisses as she lay in his embrace. “They know.”

She lifted herself onto one elbow, feeling her eyes widen with her surprise. “How?”

He grinned. “My cuff is connected to the Siren, princess. They could find me anywhere as long as it was turned on. And it has been since we left. I tapped out a message before I removed the theorrite in the marsh.” She nodded and he continued, “I received their reply just before dawn. James and a few of the others are on their way. Captain Amaranthe’s newest recruits until I can get word to Aaru.”

She could hardly believe it. “They’re leaving the Siren to come here?”

“Some will stay, though I’ve given orders that we are out of business for the indefinite future.” His expression sobered and he reached out to cup her cheek with his warm palm. “Did you think I—that
any
of us—would leave you alone in this, Dare? Did you imagine I could? The Siren is at the queen’s command, along with the Deviant. At
your
command, Chalice. We will find her together.”

Dare’s vision blurred. She was not alone. She and Cyrus had allies now.

She had Bodhan.

It was impossible for her to know how her companion shield guard—her friend—would react to the news when he woke. But one thing was certain. Once again, nothing would ever be the same.

For Dare, loving a man like Bodhan would ensure it.

FIERY TEMPTATIONS

“So little to drink, so much time.”

Seraphina uttered Gebby’s favorite salute to the empty air before pressing a bottle to her lips and tipping back her head. She swallowed the final moss-colored drop, set down the empty container on a wooden chopping block in the galley, and glared at it in morose consternation.

“Absencea,” she scoffed. It refused to deliver on the promise of sweet oblivion it had given her in the past. Two bottles into the noble’s beverage of choice and her tail was still on edge. Now, nothing of the finer liquor remained on board. She would have to drink the rot they had left in the cupboards.

The crowd of Siren guards who had invaded her safe haven had no doubt drained Freeman’s private stock. Not exactly welcome guests. As of last night, the Deviant had been overrun and was flying in circles. Two of Phina’s lives, the ones she’d kept separate for so long, were merging into singular chaos.

She needed another drink.

She had served Captain Amaranthe on the airship Deviant as a part of her crew, a consummate thief and—should the situation
prove dire—assassin. Her service on the submersible Siren was in an entirely different capacity.

Each ship gave her its own brand of satisfaction and release, but the Deviant was her home. The only place she had true purpose. She served Queen Idony. In her own unique fashion.

The queen. Phina owed her everything, loved her with a ferocity of emotion she had never allowed herself to feel for a human before. Without her, she would have been lost long ago. To the mines. To beatings from the Wode for her rebellious nature. Or worse, killed for the treason she had been coerced into committing, the ignorant accomplice in the abduction of the Queen’s Sword.

Since she’d sworn her allegiance to Queen Idony and aligned herself with the captain and the Khepri, Phina had never looked back. Her confidence in her skills and wits, as well as her ability to squeeze out of tight places, had never faltered.

Until now.

She should have known Dare was the Queen’s Chalice, regardless of her unusual scent. She should have searched Bodhan’s infernal wrist cuff, the one device he’d kept close to him at all times on the Siren. Though even if she had, they would have never been able to use it without Dare.

She should have known that damned stubborn man she’d used all her wiles to seduce when he arrived on the Siren was the last man she should have trifled with. Or let trifle with
her
before leaving him to his fate.

Above all of these things she should have known, the queen’s jeopardy was the most difficult for Phina to deal with. She should have returned to the Copper Palace for their annual late-night visit instead of throwing herself into the distraction of sexual play aboard the Siren. Sexual play meant to distract her from a certain blue-eyed Wode. The fact that he had been taken. That she had been complicit in his disappearance.

Phina grabbed a full jug of the homemade rotgut and left the galley, her thoughts no longer entirely on her queen. She could smell
him
. His scent was distinctive from the other males aboard, and it was all over the damned ship.

Cyrus. The Arendal Sword. The Queen’s Sword. He smelled like the first snows on the mountains. The clean cold air that occasionally cut through the factory fog. The fire and sweat in the air when a mating occurred in the Felidae settlement.

The scent was stronger than it had been in days, making her hair stand on end, her flesh heat, and her lips curl back in instinctive reaction.

He was awake now. He would see her. Know she was on board. How would he react? With remembered pleasure for a night of passion, or rage?

She stopped in the hallway, aware that she’d been heading to his room, gravitating there as she had each time she allowed herself belowdeck. She’d watched him while he’d slept and healed. Where had he been? What had happened to him since she’d last seen him?

Phina now knew a few of the players involved in his abduction—one of them was dead, and one of them would be for tricking her into being an accomplice. But not right away. First he would direct her to the true villains behind the abductions. Once she found them? They would suffer. Not only for what they had done to Cyrus, but for ruining her life by sending him back to
her
. To the Deviant. Making her think about him again and see him in the flesh. As if looking into Dare’s identical indigo eyes had not been enough of a reminder of her guilt.

She turned back to the galley, focusing on the stained glass behind the cooking stove as soon as she walked through the door. Sunlight sent shafts of colored light through the flowers and vines. It was an addition to the Deviant she knew the captain had chosen
herself, though she had no idea why. Nerida Amaranthe was not the flower type.

Phina bent her knees and leapt up onto the copper conductors. She slid the latch that kept the window closed open and pushed the glass outward. Her other hand still held a firm grip on her jug.

It took no effort to evade the sticky dodge that shielded the ship from ground view. Looking up, she saw the rope that dangled just out of reach. Human reach. But as she had been reminded most of her life, Seraphina was no human.

Tension coiled in her thighs and then she was flying. She felt an instantaneous jolt of adrenaline before her fingers and tail wrapped around the thick fibers of the rope. She loved the feeling. It was—on occasion—better than seeking her pleasure with a willing man. Or two.

Her climb required less thought than maintaining her hold on the liquor. When she lifted her body over the rail and rolled, she crouched low on the helm’s deck between the autobinnacle that guided the ship when Freeman was not piloting it manually and the thick decorative railings. The aether cocoon shifted softly in the rigging above her, the only witness to her spying.

A small crowd of men stood in a loose circle on the deck below. They were watching something she imagined not a one ever expected to see in their lifetimes—the Sword and Chalice of the ever-young queen sparring on the deck of a ship that should not exist.

Not that the fact stopped them all from shouting advice and offering criticism. Men did love a good fight.

Phina inhaled deeply. The Sword was healing, but a lingering infection remained. The smallest of traces, but still there. And something else that she didn’t want to think about. A scent that reminded her of how completely she’d wronged him, however inadvertently.

She grimaced. What man would be fool enough to push himself this hard before he was ready? The others may be conned into
believing he was in perfect condition, but Phina knew better. She could hear his heart racing and see the waves of heat coming off his body from his exertion.

Dare, in contrast, was holding back. Phina had been so drawn to the strange, special girl—even before she knew who she was. Her scent and taste had been unique. Her fighting… she had never seen a Wode female use anything other than her brute strength. Certainly never known of one who seemed to be able to—though lacking in height and strength—fight with such intuition and instinct. Such awareness.

She was not merely Wode. She couldn’t be. Dare was something more.

Her old “boss” from the Siren had noticed Dare as well. Phina bit down on the cork that stoppered her jug, tugged it out, and spit it into her palm. She wrinkled her nose as she took a swig of the bitter brew, squinting at the sight of Bodhan attempting nonchalance on the sidelines of the fight. He was
not
doing it well, despite his eyes being hidden by the oddest-looking covering. He called them shaded spectacles or lenses. The man had interesting trinkets.

How he must hate this. Watching his lover grappling with another man, innocent or no. It was clear the two knew each other well, could communicate without words. Their sparring match was more of a dance, and Bodhan wanted to cut in as much as Phina was tempted to.

He was smitten, that was clear. His usual distant demeanor was gone, as was his obsession with his work. The man had shut down the Siren for this mission. For Dare. He must really believe he loved her. It was the only conclusion Phina could find that would excuse the exceptional man’s change in behavior.

From her hidden perch above the fray and the banter of the new crewmen, she studied him. His dark skin and black-as-night hair. He lowered his chin to look over his lenses and she was struck, as she
always was, by those distinctive light blue eyes she had only seen in one or two others in her lifetime. Usually in traveling traders.

He should have been her type. Someone who understood and embraced debauchery in all its forms. Someone who did not judge her for her nature. She may have felt a twinge of regret that she had not fallen for Bodhan, had not swayed him from his respectfully self-imposed rules and seduced him into taking a lover from those in his employ. But she was never truly drawn to him in that way, and he had never shown an interest in anyone. Until the innocent Dare.

Still, she was a lucky little Wode. Bodhan was a good man.

Thinking of
how
lucky brought her attention back to the newly awakened Cyrus. He had been a truly inventive lover. Tireless and unwilling to play her domination games. She was panting for breath at the mere thought of how he’d laughed at her whip. At her suggestion that he let her take control.

The long hours of delight that had followed.

She took another swig of the rot. He had not been truthful with her, either. He had told her he was a half-breed when she could clearly scent his lie. He had told her he was wandering and shiftless when she could see the agenda, the determination in every move he made.

Had his lies made it easier for her to justify her actions?

Watching him spar now, his movements confident, cunning, and ruthless, she wondered at how anyone could have believed his disguise. Just as Bodhan had sensed Dare’s secret almost from the beginning, she had known Cyrus was a bad liar. Which had been, in itself, a surprise. As a rule she knew that most men lied.

In her experience everyone did, and she saw nothing wrong with it as a rule. Though she’d always noticed that women were not as quick to lie as those creatures in Theorrey blessed or cursed with a prick. Lies seemed to come with the appendage. Inherent to their sex. Cyrus was different. He did not enjoy lying. And he was the kind of man who would have a hard time forgiving those who did.

She lifted the jug once more.

“Early to be drinking.”

The male voice behind her was soothing. No accusations, just commentary. A deep, rich, melodic commentary that instantly lowered Phina’s hackles. At last, a familiar port in her current storm.

She looked over her shoulder. “Freeman. How is it that someone near as big as the ship could sneak up on a Felidae?”

A momentary smile relaxed his features. “If the Felidae in question is distracted by drink and an overabundance of pheromones, it is not as hard as one might imagine.”

She leaned her head against the polished wooden railing and batted her eyelashes at him playfully. “You have such a beautiful voice, Freeman. You should use it more often.”