Chapter 5
Raine flung Lorimar over the side with a satisfying toss—landing him in the churning sea far enough from the ship that he’d never be able to swim back to it. And even if he did, it would be nearly impossible for him to find a way to climb back up.
Still, he watched and waited for several long minutes, peering over the churning, gray sea.
But, despite the violent hand-to-hand battle in which he’d engaged, Raine’s thoughts were far more occupied by the woman who, just now, had metamorphosed into a crisp, determined ship’s captain.
And, as soon as he’d tossed Lorimar overboard, she’d disappeared.
Over the roar of the wind and the snap of sails, he could hear her shouting orders to the crew—now she was short two men, thanks to Raine—even as she strode up and down the deck to double check the lines and ropes and other fastenings.
Arial Bonny had so many different facets: the hot, bedroom-eyed temptress, the wild and powerful night hawk, and the commanding general of the sea.
He was fascinated by her. Obsessed, even.
And that was morbidly frightening to him—especially considering how cold and paralyzed he’d become earlier when he realized she was flying into and around the storm. He’d haunted the deck, watching for her from the safety of shadows.
And it was because of that watching of the sky that Raine had missed Lorimar lurking on his own watch until it was almost too late.
Bladsoe, under orders to produce Lorimar, must have somehow given away the fact that Raine was suspicious of the man.
That was the only reason he could think of for the vampire’s bold attack on Captain Bonny.
But the churning sea had swallowed its victim, and the strong scent of blood had faded. Lorimar was gone, the threat of all Draculia had left the ship, and now Raine had other…considerations, he thought with a private smile, to attend to. In the captain’s quarters.
Although when that might happen, he thought, staggering a bit as the deck shifted alarmingly beneath him and a wave of ocean splatted onto his arm, he had no idea.
The only good thing about the fury of the storm was the dark clouds that obscured the sunlight and allowed him to remain outside without being fried to death.
He knew little to nothing about sailing any size vessel (that was why one had servants, after all), let alone a ship—but he’d be more than willing to help if the captain needed him.
But the moment she caught sight of Raine—who was, unfortunately, standing there looking out of his element, Arial Bonny stabbed a finger toward the back of the ship where her quarters were located. “St. Albans! Get out of here! I don’t want to be tripping all over you while I—”
She never finished the sentence—though the sentiment was clear—for a wild toss of waves sent the ship rolling sharply, and a crash of thunder drowned out her voice.
Raine hesitated, but common sense prevailed.
He’d be more in the way than helpful, and he didn’t fancy the possibility of being tossed overboard by an annoyed pirate captain.
Grinning to himself at the realization that she’d do it, too, if he annoyed her enough, he started to the chamber to let the sailors do their sailing.
He had no concerns about her ability to sail the ship through this storm. He just hoped it didn’t take long.
Because he really wanted to get her alone.
It took much longer than she liked before Arial tottered to her cabin where she knew St. Albans waited. Over two hours, in fact, before the sea had settled enough that she could leave Bladsoe at the wheel and know all would be well.
They’d sailed through the worst of the storm, and she could smell and otherwise sense—through her “wild” self—that Mother Nature’s fury had nearly passed over them, and would be on to stirring up the ocean around other ships to the northeast.
It wasn’t until she put her left hand on the door knob to open it that Arial allowed herself to recognize the pain that had latched itself onto her during the mishap of her transition…
and hadn’t quite released her. When she opened the door to her quarters and stepped inside, the wave of agony caught her so by surprise that she actually had to stifle a gasp.
That was when she really had the chance to look at her right hand—the one that was…wrong. Still wrong.
Arial closed the door behind her and turned to look around the dimly-lit chamber for St. Albans. If she was surprised—or disappointed—that he didn’t immediately speak or move at her entrance, she didn’t allow herself to feel either of those emotions.
Raine St. Albans, Lord Norringford, was a temporary passenger on her ship and she could spare no feelings toward him. That, she’d determined during the last two hours of battling strong winds, flapping sails, whipping lines, and surging cascades of churning sea that pelted everyone on deck.
Then she saw him. Sitting in the darkest corner of the room, unmoving. His eyes—colored with a soft, red glow—were fixed on her.
“What is it, St. Albans?” she asked, immediately sensing some unpleasant undercurrent—and at the same time having neither the energy nor the time to spare for whatever seemed to have caused him to be uncharacteristically silent and…angry?
Yes, it was anger she sensed, rolling off him. Anger, and perhaps even suspicion.
Hiding her right arm behind herself, keeping the throbbing pain at bay for the moment, she leveled him with her look as she came further into the chamber.
Blast it! She had no time to mollycoddle a Draculia vampire who was pouting because he hadn’t been able to enthrall her, while Lorimar had definitely been able to turn on the mesmerization that was the greatest asset to an undead.
If poor St. Albans was upset because his eyeglow didn’t work the way he wanted it to, he could just take himself off—
“You knew,” he said quietly. His gaze settled on her, the light in his eyes easing slightly—but becoming no less cold and steady. How a light that burned could be defined as cold was one of the inexplicable aspects of the Dracule.
“What?” Arial snapped. All she wanted was to collapse in her chair and try to figure out how the bloody hell to fix herself. She didn’t have time to play word sallies with the man glowering at her from the corner.
He stood abruptly and his presence seemed to fill the chamber. His head nearly brushed the ceiling, and the lamp he’d lit cast his shadow—long and wide—over her. Instead of replying with words, he pointed to the small silver box that sat on her table.
Then Arial understood. “Snooping around, were you, St. Albans? Served you right for sticking your arrogant nose into places it doesn’t belong.”
“How did you know?”
Because she was out of patience and embattled by pain, Arial considered walking over to the damned box and opening its lid and shoving the contents beneath said arrogant nose.
Instead, with what she later would think of as a Herculean effort, she replied calmly and evenly.
“How did I know your Asthenia is pine needles? How did I come to have a lead-lined box of pine needles here on the ship with me, while at the same time hosting you on my vessel? Surely you’ve had plenty of time to settle on an answer over the last two hours while I—and the rest of my crew—did our damnedest to keep the Lass afloat, St. Albans.
Why don’t you just answer the question for me so I can get on with—with the other things I need to do. ”
In her agitation, Arial forgot herself and gesticulated angrily with both of her arms. By the time she realized she’d done so, St. Albans had moved.
In the space of a breath, he went from across the chamber with fiery eyes to grasping her right arm with a very different expression on his face. She automatically tried to fist her fingers, but since three of them were still feathered and wouldn’t curl, she failed.
“Arial,” he said, staring at her appendage, then transferring his attention to her face. Shock and concern filled his eyes.
She snatched her arm away, furious that she’d exposed her problem to him. “It’s—”
“You’re hurt.” The tension that had left his face rushed back in; but rather than being in the form of anger and suspicion, it reappeared as horror and even disgust. Toward himself. “Arial, I’m sorry. I—what can I do?”
The softness in his tones was nearly her undoing. She’d staved off the pain, hidden it away and ignored it, for hours. And if he’d remained furious and on the attack, she could easily have kept her shield up until she threw him from the chamber.
But the way he took her arm again—this time by the wrist—and gently brought it closer as he lightly stroked the feathers covering half of her hand made her insides tremble and heat.
“It was Lorimar, wasn’t it? I thought I saw—but I was fighting him, and I wasn’t certain. What…what can I do, Arial?”
She couldn’t control the shiver—the delicate warmth that swept over her as his fingertips brushed over her feathers.
She’d never been touched while in her wild state, and the sensation was…
lovely. Despite the pain of a partially-transformed body, the tenderness in his human fingers brushing over her sleek feathers made Arial want to weep.
It was mainly self-preservation that caused her to pull away; for fear she’d sag into his arms and collapse. The pirates Bonny—neither she nor her mother Ann—never showed a weakness. Especially to men.
“I just—I believe I just need to…settle quietly and try again,” she told him, putting more space between them. I hope.
“This has never happened before?” To her relief, he stepped away as if to give her the space for which she’d silently asked. Yet his eyes—dim now—watched her closely.
“No.” She drew in a deep breath, then said quickly, “If you could turn around. I…I’ve never done this in front of anyone before. It’s rather like…getting undressed.”
Arial saw the quirk of a smile over his sensual lips before he made a neat, almost flamboyant pivot on his toes so he faced the other wall.
She was just about to close her eyes and be when she saw what he’d done. “Away from the mirror, St. Albans!” she snapped, unable to completely subdue a grin. Damn, but the man was incorrigible!
“I wasn’t going to look,” he replied, laughter in his voice. Then it drained away. “I’m sorry, Arial. I promise—I won’t look. Do what you need to do.”
She glared at his back and he flinched as if he felt it, causing her to grin briefly. But it was past time to try and fix herself.
Confident that he would, indeed, keep his word, she closed her eyes and willed herself to transform.