Page 8 of Immortal Pirates

It had been more than a day since he’d fed, and although he wasn’t feeling strong hunger—except for the lovely Captain Bonny, and that hunger was an entirely different matter than mere sustenance—he thought it would be prudent to have a snack in case they met up with theDevil’s Targetany time soon.

But as he wandered around the deck, Raine found himself less than enticed by any of the crew members he encountered. The same could not be said for the reverse, for he seemed to attract salacious looks from more than one of them.

Including Bladsoe, the very tall and broad mate Raine had enthralled as he boarded the ship—only to be interrupted by Captain Bonny herself. He smiled privately, remembering her admonition that Raine was more the type her crew preferred than she was.

Raine had no preference himself when it came to feeding. A man’s blood was just as acceptable as that of a woman; and if the act of feeding—of penetration and laving and drinking blood was inherently sensual and erotic—that was just part of the experience. While Raine might feed on either gender in a pinch, he took only women to his bed—though he knew Dracule who weren’t as particular. He shrugged. He’d lived long enough and experienced enough dark, sensual hedonism that little bothered him in the way of sexual encounters…except the practiceperpetrated by Cezar Moldavi. That evil bastard preferred young girls and boys, and made a practice of leaving them to die after taking what he wanted from their delicate bodies.

That was why Raine was here in these hellish tropics, with days that were far too long and sunny for one of his kind. Because Moldavi must be destroyed, and if obtaining the powerful Svari medallion from theDevil’s Targetbrought Raine, Corvindale, and Chas Woodmore closer to doing so, then he would risk it all.

Even frying in the blazing sun.

And if he got Arial Bonny into bed and beneath him and his fangs during the process, he’d consider the mission as getting as close to Heaven as he was ever going to get.

Even the passing thought of Heaven caused Lucifer’s Mark, located on the back of his shoulder, to twinge and throb painfully. It was a constant reminder of Raine’s damaged soul and its immortal connection to Lucifer.

But at that moment, something else, and new—and unpleasant—prickled over the back of his neck. Raine stiffened. This was not the first time he’d felt a warning shift of energy since coming onto this ship. There was something evil in the air, and he felt it boring into him as if some entity stared from the darkness, waiting for the opportunity to spring.

He didn’t turn. Instead, he became very still and homed all of his attention on the space behind him as he stood at the edge of the ship’s rail. All but the last bit of sliver of the sun had sunk below the horizon, and the line where sky and sea met was slowly becoming less definite.

He closed his eyes, focusing every other sense on the danger he’d felt, the wave of malignancy that had been released toward him.

Someone was watching. The weight of a malicious stare caused his muscles to tense and his body to ready.

Raine spun suddenly, prepared to ward off an attack.

But no one was there.

And the sensation was gone.

4

Arial landed in the shadows on top of the quarterdeck at the stern ofBlack Lass. The large flounder she’d dived for, then scooped from the sea on her way back from her aerial scouting mission, had ceased to struggle in her talons.

St. Albans noticed that she hadn’t eaten with her crew. No, she normally preferred to dine in her own way. She felt more energized and alive when she did so, in her more “wild” state—as she liked to think of it. The hunt and the satisfaction of dining on the spoils of her skill kept her natural instincts sharp. Something of paramount importance for a feared pirate of the seas.

But Arial had hardly eaten half of the fish when she sensed his presence. He stood on the lower deck, and though he surely couldn’t see her from her perch—ah. The blood. The scent had attracted him.

Blast it. She hadn’t thought of that.

He didn’t speak, but she felt him nearby. She swore she heard him draw in a breath, though the sound should have been swallowed by the noise of waves sloshing against the sides of the ship, and the various clanging and whipping sounds of metal hooks and sails caught in the wind.

She finished quickly, using her talons to tear into the last bit of flesh and her lethal beak to pick through a few more morsels. Then she snatched up the fish carcass and launched herself into the air toward the prow of the ship, away from St. Albans and his all-seeing night eyes.

After disposing of the fish, dropping it into the churning sea, Arial swung back around and landed lightly on the deck in the shadows so she could transform back into human form.

No sooner had she shuffled her wings and lowered them to her sides as arms than she heard a soft, amused voice. “I wondered whether you’d return clothed…or not.”

Startled not only by his proximity, but by the comment itself, Arial barely held back a squeak that was nearly a laugh.

“I see that I must be disappointed,” he continued, moving from the shadows to where she could see him. “That somehow when you transform—is that the term you use?—your clothing reappears as if nothing had happened.”

“If that weren’t the case,” Arial said, smoothing her hair in its braid, “it would be highly inconvenient to make the change.”

“I suppose that depends upon one’s perspective.” He reached toward her, and she just managed to keep from flinching when he touched her head, then pulled away. He was holding a feather—a brown and black flecked one about the size of his finger. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am that I don’t share the strong aversion to feathers as several of my peers do,” he said as he ran his fingers contemplatively over her feather, and she felt her skin prickle as if he were actually touching her.

“Aversion?” She was shaken and unsettled. Was it simply because he was near? Was it the dark, hungry glint in his eyes? Or was it the smooth, mellow, caressing tone of his voice?

“So you know all about how to block the thrall of a Dracule, but not of our Asthenia?” He seemed genuinely surprised.