Page 19 of Immortal Pirates

The rain began quietly, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before it turned to a sharp, stinging downpour. For now, the sprinkling frosted her vision lightly and she couldn’t feel the drops anywhere but on the very front of her face—between the eyes, just above her beak.

She was hungry, so she’d hunt…but first she’d revel in this freedom. She soared, dived, glided, and shot straight up into the air—cutting through the wind and sprinkling rain.

The masts ofBonny Lasspunctured the graying sky in the distance, and her white sails glowed against the darkening sea. And, as Arial was acutely—so acutely—aware, on that vessel was a very dangerous man.

Dangerous to his enemies. Dangerous to his friends.

And dangerous to her.

Yet, she was compelled to return to her ship sooner than she might have done, for Raine St. Albans was there. And he was waiting for her—with a hot, meaningful look in his eyes and a wicked, wicked mouth.

As she skimmed along just above the churning waves, Arial saw the white flash of a fish too close to the surface. She swooped down, her talons swiping through the air, breaking the water, closing over the squirming, fighting creature, and then she soared high.

On another kind of day, when the weather was smooth and the air was fine, Arial might take her meal to a nearby outcropping of rock to dine. Most times, however, she perched in a hidden alcove on the backside of theLass’s stern. Other times, particularly if the weather was bad and her crew might need her, she landed, transformed, and brought the fish into her cabin.There, she closed the curtains and became what she thought of as her “wild self” in order to dine.

She never dined with her crew. She rarely ate anything that wasn’t freshly caught by her own talons, simply because she felt it necessary to maintain that wild part of herself. By hunting for her own food and transforming regularly, she honed and maintained her natural instincts and skills. Arial felt she was more night hawk than woman most of the time, and that was what made her such a fearsome pirate and competent ship’s captain.

A sudden gust of wind caught her by surprise, but instead of being startled, Arial merely smiled inside her beak and allowed the force to catch her up and push her along. The masts of her beloved ship were taller and more pronounced now as she streaked through the air toward home. The white sails shone like a beacon, and even from her distance, she saw the glint of light reflecting from the window of her cabin.

Where, surely, St. Albans awaited.

A shiver of expectation caught her by surprise and she tightened the grip on her catch. Like the vampire who awaited her, she too found sustenance in a fierce, wild manner—so different from the other men and women she knew.

Perhaps that was part of the reason she found herself so attracted to the man, despite the way his insouciance and arrogance infuriated her at times. He was so bloody sure of himself—yet, she thought with another inside smile—he was utterly befuddled by the fact that his Draculian thrall had no effect on her.

Now she could see the details of her ship: the scrollwork carving along the top edge of the body, and the fierce hawk-woman figurehead she’d had designed for the prow. Not that anyone on theBlack Lassknew about her wild self. No one but St. Albans, that is—and that was only because he was so damnedbloody nosy, intelligent…and he’d gotten so close to her that she’d not been as careful as she should have been the one time she transformed near him.

Or perhaps it was the simple fact that, being an extraordinary sort of human himself, St. Albans was more likely to understand and recognize others who were also extraordinary in their own ways.

Still gripping the fish in her talons, Arial did a high, wide circle above theLass, assessing the position and movements of her crew as the storm closed in. She was hungry and wanted to eat, but with the storm so near and the heavy clouds obscuring the sunlight, she wanted to make certain her men weren’t in need of her navigational skills.

And then there was, of course, St. Albans—who wanted to explore aspecialsort of navigational skills with her…in bed.

A thrill of heat had Arial diving and swooping until she could access the small alcove she’d had installed on the backside of the stern. It was just below the guard rail and above the rudder, carefully camouflaged from the poopdeck so the carving on the side of the ship created a small extrusion blocking anyone from above from seeing the area.

The biggest challenge was making certain no one on board saw the massive hawk flying into the backside of the ship. And always when she finished eating, she cleaned out the area of the remains—bones, tail, head—pushing them into the ocean, then flew back out and landed lightly on the aft deck behind a large cargo crate she’d positioned—and insisted remain there—for just that purpose.

This time—after she’d eaten, then cleaned up and flew out of her hiding place—she landed lightly on the cloud-darkened deck with a soft click of talon. A figure moved from the shadows quickly toward her hiding place. Arial grinned, and shook her head mentally. St. Albans, of course.

She closed her eyes and swept into the transformation back to?—

No!

In an instant—too late—she’d recognized the shadow. It wasn’t St. Albans; it was the square, solid Lorimar, and he was swinging something heavy and dark toward her. Arial gasped and dove awkwardly to the side, becoming paralyzed in a moment of partial transformation.

Her body arced with pain as she froze in mid-change. She tried to cry out a warning—but it came out as a distressed squawk, and attempted to swipe a lethal talon—but it was only a dainty foot. The wind was knocked out of her by something strong and forceful, and Arial felt herself tumbling to the deck…just as an enraged bellow reached her ears.

All at once, the shadow that was Lorimar was whipped around so sharply the movement ruffled her softest, downiest feathers. Arial closed her eyes, concentrated, and pushed herself through the rest of the transformation.

Oh God.It was sharp and painful, and agonizingly slow, but she managed it…and felt her fingers spring free into five slender digits, her eyes shift back to more contained, human-like vision, and her body curve and soften into that of the woman she was. Her clothing remained intact—and, fortunately, that included the pistol she wore at her waist.

Still a bit murky in the brain, and aching everywhere else, Arial nevertheless wasted no time in drawing her firearm free as she spun to see two men grappling on the deck. One of them was Lorimar, and the other was—unsurprisingly—St. Albans.

But whatwasa surprise to her was that the two men were in a vicious hand-to-hand battle. How could it be that the stronger-than-mortal and quicksilver fast St. Albans hadn’t decapitated or otherwise torn his opponent to ribbons? Especially since he’d had the element of surprise?

Then, as the two men twisted and writhed together, Arial saw the red glow in Lorimar's eyes. She snatched in her breath. Another vampire? Here on her ship?How?

She looked down at the pistol and shoved it back into her belt with a frown. That wouldn’t be useful in this situation, blast it.