Chapter 3
Raine didn’t know what possessed him to peek out the window of the captain’s cabin at that very moment, but he was thankful for whatever had caused him to do so.
He saw something that would forever be imprinted on his memory, and etched in his heart as a moment of wonder and awe.
One moment, Arial Bonny stood in a silent, quiet corner of the bow…
and the next moment she changed: right before his eyes.
The slender, graceful arms flowed into broad wings, feathered in the same array of colors of her hair: black, nut-brown, chestnut, amber, and flecked with bits of white.
Her multi-colored braid sleeked into a sheen of feathers, her elegant facial features metamorphosed into a broad, dangerous beak and sharp, sharp dark eyes.
Her lithe body became a tight, powerful torso of muscle beneath more sleek feathers. And, as the night hawk shot from the ship’s bow up into the air, he caught a glimpse of dangerous talons.
But it was the wingspan, the broad, powerful range of those limbs, that made him catch his breath and go still with wonderment.
Graceful, powerful, controlled, feral. Wild.
Raine realized his heart was ramrodding in his chest and his belly had gone soft and hot. His mouth felt shockingly dry, and his fangs…they were retracted, at ease—for it wasn’t lust and desire so much as it was awe.
He knew she could transform into an eagle-sized hawk, but he’d not watched the change happen. And he hadn’t seen her in that form for more than an instant—and even then, he hadn’t known it was her until afterward.
Raine realized he was standing at the window of the cabin, clutching the sill, staring out over the ocean where Arial had flown—flown! soared!—toward the western horizon. She was little more than a speck in the sky, near the horizon, where—
Damn and blast. By the Fates, she was flying right into the dark, rolling, ugly clouds.
Raine stared out after her, where she’d just disappeared in the darkening sky, willing himself to find her…to somehow discern the shape of those broad, graceful wings, to trace the path of her dips and dives and glides…
But it was too dark, and too distant—even for a Dracule equipped with super-sensory vision.
Arial, what in the Devil are you doing?
A knock at the door startled him, and Raine whipped around just as it cracked open to reveal Bladsoe, the first mate.
“Captain, I—what the fuck are you doing here?” Bladsoe—a titan of a man with wagon axels for arms and ship’s breadth shoulders—lunged across the chamber at Raine.
The mate was relatively fast for a mortal—especially one of his mammoth size—but Raine was so far beyond him in speed and strength he barely had to make the effort to move…
and when he did so, it was just in time that Bladsoe couldn’t help from crashing into the wall beneath the window.
He rushed past Raine so closely that he felt the rush of air.
In an effort to keep from destroying the tidy, almost-feminine captain’s quarters, Raine put aside the base desire to pummel something with the frustration that had built inside him in the last three days, and simply faced the man with his hands raised in surrender.
“Good morning, Bladsoe,” he said civilly but with a warning in his voice. “You’re going to want to stand up slowly and we’re going to—”
“What have you done with her?” raged Bladsoe, lunging to his feet. His fists were tight and his eyes bulged with fury. He looked around the chamber as if expecting to find pieces of the captain strewn about. “What are you doing here? Where’s Arial?”
“I’m here at the captain’s invitation,” Raine replied—emphasizing Arial’s title—and before the mate could further express his violent disbelief, he brightened his gaze with a bit of eyeglow.
It was the more expedient route to the logical end of their discussion; and, quite frankly, Raine didn’t want to take the chance the captain’s bed would be destroyed or otherwise mangled in the process.
He had plans for that bed.
“By her invitation?” repeated Bladsoe. His fists had loosened and his eyes went slightly dull. “Where is she? Is she hurt?”
“Yes, by her invitation. Captain Bonny is safe—” Raine hoped, glancing toward the horizon “—and she and I will be discussing our plans for the take-over of the Devil’s Target.”
“The Devil’s Target. Aye.”
“Now you may leave, Bladsoe. A storm’s coming,” Raine said, quelling the stitch of worry that seemed to be making its way through his insides. He allowed the alluring glow to dissolve from his gaze. “How soon will it get here?”
“Two hours,” replied the mate. His eyes lost their dull sheen and he looked at Raine with clear vision, then shook his head a bit as if to clear it. “You…where did you come from?” A flare of anger and suspicion rose in his eyes. “You broke out of the brig and—”
“Captain Bonny knows. There was a misunderstanding about what happened with Fergus. All is well. You can speak with her when she comes ba—when she has a moment.”
Bladsoe looked at him in consideration, and Raine was somewhat mollified to note that despite his brawn and quick temper, the man seemed to possess an above average bit of intelligence and common sense. For he not only didn’t make a move toward him again, but he also released some of his fury.
“All right then, St. Albans. You can believe I’ll be asking her.” Bladsoe gave him a steady look that told Raine everything he needed to know about the way the mate felt about Arial: he respected her, trusted her, and loved her.
In a sisterly sort of way.
And that he would give Raine the benefit of the doubt.
But the warning remained in Bladsoe’s expression: if he learned otherwise, the other man would bear the brunt of his fury.
And that, Raine acknowledged to himself, was a relief.
“Bladsoe, one more thing before you leave.”
The first mate gave him a cool look, and Raine met it with a clear, unencumbered one of his own that bespoke a wary, but respectful, truce.
“Fergus. What did you know about him?”
“The man you killed?” The man’s lips flattened with disgust.
Raine could smell acute distaste and banked fury coming from the mate, which prompted him to firmly clarify: “The man who died when I defended myself against his attempt to throw me overboard. That man.”
“There’s no proof of that.”
Raine’s estimation of the man notched up a bit. He had principle and dedication. “Did you happen to notice the marking on his back? Up near the shoulder?” He demonstrated, brushing his hand over the location of his own Mark of Lucifer.
“The tattoo? Looked like a tree root, growing down from his—beneath his hair here.” Bladsoe’s eyes narrowed. “Unusual mark for a sea mate, but there’s all kinds.”
“That’s right. All kinds.” Raine hesitated only a moment, then made a decision that if Arial trusted Bladsoe with her life, ship, and confidences—and seemingly with good reason—he could do so as well. Especially if it would help to keep her safe. “I have the same Mark.”
The other man looked at him, as if waiting for Raine to explain further.
He hesitated again, but plunged on. For if Cezar Moldavi had sent Fergus onto the Black Lass, it might have been only to kill Raine…but it could also mean he had the ship and its captain in his evil sights, and that would put Arial in even more danger.
She’d told him that Moldavi’s men had destroyed her previous ship. So somehow, she had already crossed his path and drawn his evil attention.
“The Mark puts both Fergus and myself—along with several hundred others in this world—in a certain…group.” Damn. He was butchering this. The problem was, Raine didn’t want to tell him about the Dracule. The fewer who knew in the world, the better.
“A group?” Bladsoe was still looking at him with a jaundiced expression.
“A special group. With certain abilities.”
“What sort of abilities?”
Raine shook his head. Devil take it, he shouldn’t have even begun this discussion.
That’s what concern over a woman could do to a man, blast it.
All sense goes out the door. “I just need to know what you know about Fergus. How long was he a mate on this ship?” In order to incentivize the other man to talk, he fired up his eyeglow once more.
Predictably, Bladsoe’s gaze dulled—and with that, Raine was reminded of his failure to apply even the lightest of allure to Captain Arial Bonny. It was usually so simple. What was the problem here?
“He was hired on only at last port in Havana,” replied the first mate. “Him and Lorimar were. Together.”
So much for Arial Bonny’s previous assurances to Raine that her entire crew was loyal and long-serving. As well as being the type who took pleasure with other men instead of women.
“He and Lorimar were together.”
A flash of concern had Raine turning up the heat of his gaze. “I need to speak to Lorimar, Bladsoe. Why don’t you go find him for me. Send him here.”
As Bladsoe turned to do as directed, the ship gave a pronounced lurch. Nothing in the chamber moved, as it was all bolted to the ground. Even the navigational tools and logbook on the captain’s desk hardly shifted, as they were arranged in low-sided compartments on the table top.
Nevertheless, the unexpected and violent movement had Raine whipping his attention to the window where he’d last seen the strong, graceful night hawk flying toward the storm.
It seemed, Raine realized with a sudden deep gouge in his belly, that the storm had arrived far sooner than expected.
And Arial was somewhere in the midst of it.