Page 20 of Immortal Pirates

But what could help was her wild self. She flexed her toes inside their boots, imagining her icepick claws digging into the man’s back. She spread her arms, preparing to shift back into her untamed persona, when suddenly St. Albans lunged to his feet next to her.

He staggered a little, but he held Lorimar by the shirt and, with a sleek, powerful movement, slammed the other man into the ground. His arm whipped out and his hand came down, leaving wide, deep trails of blood down the side of Lorimar's face, throat, and cut his shirt into ribbons.

The bright, fresh scent of blood filled the air, overpowering even that of the salty sea, and Arial felt her mouth water and her eyes sharpen. The wild part of her was never fully sedated, and—like a shark, a feral cat, or an undead—the scent of blood awakened her.

She almost allowed herself to shift into her other self, but stopped—for St. Albans was a man fueled by cold, hard fury. She watched him: his fluid movements, the flash of fangs, the burning heat in his eyes as he tore and pummeled with fisticuffs, fangs, and feet.

Finally, St. Albans grabbed a collapsed Lorimar by the torn, bloodied throat and shoved him up against the railing. The other man kicked out frantically, but St. Albans was fueled by fury and he merely took the blows.

“Who sent you?” he growled, closing his fingers tightly over the other man’s throat. They dug into Lorimar's flesh, the dark blood slick and coursing over his digits.

Arial watched, aware that her heart was pounding and her knees were abominably weak—a travesty for the fearsome pirate Captain Bonny. She nudged away those weak, feminine feelings that made her insides hot and fluttery and walked over to the two men.

Time to assert her authority.

“You came onto my ship under false pretenses. I’ll have you thrown overboard if you don’t answer the questions. Who sent you? And why?”

St. Albans spared her a look, his mouth tightening as if annoyed that she was interfering. “Arial?—”

“Captain,” she reminded him flatly, still looking at Lorimar. “Answer the questions or over you go.”

“And if I do?” hissed the imprisoned vampire. Despite the danger of his position, the man’s eyes burned red and they captured her gaze. Suddenly Arial felt an unpleasant wavering inside her. Her vision swam a little, and her ears felt as if they were blocked while her anger began to wane?—

She shook her head fiercely and broke the connection with the vampire. Next to her, St. Albans turned to stare at her, then cursed under his breath.

Arial ignored him and responded to Lorimar. “If you answer the questions, you’ll go in the brig until we reach land where I can put you off. Somewhere preferably remote and isolated.” She bared her teeth in a humorless smile.

“You heard the captain,” St. Albans said, and squeezed Lorimar's throat. “If you want a chance to live, you’ll tell her. Who sent you? And why? Was it Moldavi?”

Lorimar's face twisted in pain, and Arial sensed it wasn’t because of the grip around his throat. She knew enough about the Dracule vampires to be aware that they each bore Lucifer’s Mark on the back of one shoulder, and that sometimes the mark throbbed with pain when the devil was displeased.

“Of course it was Moldavi,” Lorimar growled. “He knows you want the medallion. Had to…stop you. And…” He seemed to be struggling with some inner battle as he forced the words out. “He hates…Corvindale…anyone who is allied with him…”

St. Albans looked at Arial, his brows lifted. “That’s no news to me, captain. He hasn’t given us any information we didn’t already have or suspect.”

Arial wanted to smile back, but she was the fierce pirate Captain Bonny and fierce pirate captains didn’t smile. So she said, “Agreed. I see no reason to contaminate my brig with this creature. Get rid of him.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. With pleasure.”

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.