Geared for Pleasure

by Rachel Grace

Phina now knew a few of the players involved in his abduction—one of them was dead, and one of them would be for tricking her into being an accomplice. But not right away. First he would direct her to the true villains behind the abductions. Once she found them? They would suffer. Not only for what they had done to Cyrus, but for ruining her life by sending him back to her. To the Deviant. Making her think about him again and see him in the flesh. As if looking into Dare’s identical indigo eyes had not been enough of a reminder of her guilt.

  She turned back to the galley, focusing on the stained glass behind the cooking stove as soon as she walked through the door. Sunlight sent shafts of colored light through the flowers and vines. It was an addition to the Deviant she knew the captain had chosen herself, though she had no idea why. Nerida Amaranthe was not the flower type.

  Phina bent her knees and leapt up onto the copper conductors. She slid the latch that kept the window closed open and pushed the glass outward. Her other hand still held a firm grip on her jug.

  It took no effort to evade the sticky dodge that shielded the ship from ground view. Looking up, she saw the rope that dangled just out of reach. Human reach. But as she had been reminded most of her life, Seraphina was no human.

  Tension coiled in her thighs and then she was flying. She felt an instantaneous jolt of adrenaline before her fingers and tail wrapped around the thick fibers of the rope. She loved the feeling. It was—on occasion—better than seeking her pleasure with a willing man. Or two.

  Her climb required less thought than maintaining her hold on the liquor. When she lifted her body over the rail and rolled, she crouched low on the helm’s deck between the autobinnacle that guided the ship when Freeman was not piloting it manually and the thick decorative railings. The aether cocoon shifted softly in the rigging above her, the only witness to her spying.

  A small crowd of men stood in a loose circle on the deck below. They were watching something she imagined not a one ever expected to see in their lifetimes—the Sword and Chalice of the ever-young queen sparring on the deck of a ship that should not exist.

  Not that the fact stopped them all from shouting advice and offering criticism. Men did love a good fight.

  Phina inhaled deeply. The Sword was healing, but a lingering infection remained. The smallest of traces, but still there. And something else that she didn’t want to think about. A scent that reminded her of how completely she’d wronged him, however inadvertently.

  She grimaced. What man would be fool enough to push himself this hard before he was ready? The others may be conned into believing he was in perfect condition, but Phina knew better. She could hear his heart racing and see the waves of heat coming off his body from his exertion.

  Dare, in contrast, was holding back. Phina had been so drawn to the strange, special girl—even before she knew who she was. Her scent and taste had been unique. Her fighting… she had never seen a Wode female use anything other than her brute strength. Certainly never known of one who seemed to be able to—though lacking in height and strength—fight with such intuition and instinct. Such awareness.

  She was not merely Wode. She couldn’t be. Dare was something more.

  Her old “boss” from the Siren had noticed Dare as well. Phina bit down on the cork that stoppered her jug, tugged it out, and spit it into her palm. She wrinkled her nose as she took a swig of the bitter brew, squinting at the sight of Bodhan attempting nonchalance on the sidelines of the fight. He was not doing it well, despite his eyes being hidden by the oddest-looking covering. He called them shaded spectacles or lenses. The man had interesting trinkets.

  How he must hate this. Watching his lover grappling with another man, innocent or no. It was clear the two knew each other well, could communicate without words. Their sparring match was more of a dance, and Bodhan wanted to cut in as much as Phina was tempted to.

  He was smitten, that was clear. His usual distant demeanor was gone, as was his obsession with his work. The man had shut down the Siren for this mission. For Dare. He must really believe he loved her. It was the only conclusion Phina could find that would excuse the exceptional man’s change in behavior.

  From her hidden perch above the fray and the banter of the new crewmen, she studied him. His dark skin and black-as-night hair. He lowered his chin to look over his lenses and she was struck, as she always was, by those distinctive light blue eyes she had only seen in one or two others in her lifetime. Usually in traveling traders.

  He should have been her type. Someone who understood and embraced debauchery in all its forms. Someone who did not judge her for her nature. She may have felt a twinge of regret that she had not fallen for Bodhan, had not swayed him from his respectfully self-imposed rules and seduced him into taking a lover from those in his employ. But she was never truly drawn to him in that way, and he had never shown an interest in anyone. Until the innocent Dare.

  Still, she was a lucky little Wode. Bodhan was a good man.

  Thinking of how lucky brought her attention back to the newly awakened Cyrus. He had been a truly inventive lover. Tireless and unwilling to play her domination games. She was panting for breath at the mere thought of how he’d laughed at her whip. At her suggestion that he let her take control.

  The long hours of delight that had followed.

  She took another swig of the rot. He had not been truthful with her, either. He had told her he was a half-breed when she could clearly scent his lie. He had told her he was wandering and shiftless when she could see the agenda, the determination in every move he made.

  Had his lies made it easier for her to justify her actions?

  Watching him spar now, his movements confident, cunning, and ruthless, she wondered at how anyone could have believed his disguise. Just as Bodhan had sensed Dare’s secret almost from the beginning, she had known Cyrus was a bad liar. Which had been, in itself, a surprise. As a rule she knew that most men lied.

  In her experience everyone did, and she saw nothing wrong with it as a rule. Though she’d always noticed that women were not as quick to lie as those creatures in Theorrey blessed or cursed with a prick. Lies seemed to come with the appendage. Inherent to their sex. Cyrus was different. He did not enjoy lying. And he was the kind of man who would have a hard time forgiving those who did.

  She lifted the jug once more.

  “Early to be drinking.”

  The male voice behind her was soothing. No accusations, just commentary. A deep, rich, melodic commentary that instantly lowered Phina’s hackles. At last, a familiar port in her current storm.

  She looked over her shoulder. “Freeman. How is it that someone near as big as the ship could sneak up on a Felidae?”

  A momentary smile relaxed his features. “If the Felidae in question is distracted by drink and an overabundance of pheromones, it is not as hard as one might imagine.”

  She leaned her head against the polished wooden railing and batted her eyelashes at him playfully. “You have such a beautiful voice, Freeman. You should use it more often.”

  Yet, he never did. As far as she knew, Freeman only spoke at length to the captain and herself. And recently to Bodhan, which only made Phina like the brothel owner more. Freeman was the best judge of character she knew. Still, apart from trading supplies and hiring the occasional crewmember, he had chosen silence over verbal communication. And people believed she was talented at misdirection.

  Phina knew that others, more often than not, believed Freeman a big, hulking, slow-witted mute. It was his own form of the dodge. The illusion he projected to the world as Captain Amaranthe’s first mate. And it was a good one.

  Men were easy enough to understand as a rule. Most clothed themselves in selfish needs, spoiled and longing for approval. Easily threatened. In the rougher parts of the world, you could be small and brilliantly silver-tongued, or large and stupidly obedient, but anything outside that expectation—indeed, anything more complex—was viewed with suspicion. The people the Deviant crew needed to work with did n
ot trust complexity.

  Freeman was truly intelligent, strategically brilliant, a gifted healer and pilot. He could also crush a man’s throat with the fingers of one hand and no doubt memorize a scholar’s book of poetry while doing it.

  He was a dangerous enemy and an irreplaceable ally. Not even Captain Amaranthe understood his complexity. And Phina knew if Freeman had his way, she never would.

  His eyes, more golden than brown, twinkled, disrupting her train of thought. That was another thing the captain never seemed to notice. How handsome he was.

  “I should speak more and you should flirt less. Each is as likely as the moons rising in the morning.” His strong, square jaw tightened as he nodded in the direction of the men on the main deck below. “Why are you hiding? No one is a stranger to you here. Unless there is something you have yet to tell us about our new arrivals. Any irate victims or broken hearts I should be wary of?”

  She avoided his knowing gaze and took another fortifying gulp of the jugged courage. Swallowing, she forced herself to offer a careless shrug. “I dislike change. The Deviant can practically fly itself, no offense to her pilot, yet we are filling up on crew, and the Siren is currently out of commission, leaving me to search for distraction elsewhere. My kind is inherently predisposed against change.”

  He tilted his head, the dark gold of his shaggy hair falling over his forehead. “You are rarely this poor a liar, Seraphina. Are you taking responsibility for her disappearance? The queen was theirs to protect. If anyone is at fault it would be them.” He was silent for a moment, as though contemplating his own words. “However, I cannot blame them, either. They have both had a rough time of it. And it seems Queen Idony and the Khepri kept secrets from all of us, even her closest companion guards. No matter how powerful the ship, no one can fly it blind. We need to find this Tower Orr. And we need to question Dare’s companion about the dagger.”

  Phina turned to study Cyrus once more. He had removed his shirt and his back was uncovered for her view. His skin had been darkened by the sun since last she’d seen him like this. It appeared harder. Battle-roughened. Her lips tightened. It had also been whipped. The long, deep scars crossing his back said he hadn’t enjoyed it.

  She wanted to taste it. Kiss it better.

  In the last few days his hair had grown, an indigo shadow covering the scars on his head. Phina recalled gripping that head, fighting to keep her claws retracted as he took her to the brink only to leave her there, beginning her torment anew.

  Freeman lowered his voice in warning. “Do not growl or they will find you out. No one has told him you are on the ship yet. That will happen soon enough. The captain allows them this moment to relieve their tension. For the Sword to prove he is fit to fight. But her patience will not last. I’m surprised she has restrained herself this long. To have so many men on her ship, to let so many know what we are doing… it’s not easy for her to obey this particular request from the queen. It would help if she had more information. A direction. I believe she thinks the Queen’s Sword will be the key.”

  Phina would get it for her if she could. But she had a sinking feeling that she was the last person Cyrus wanted to see.

  Alive.

  “I taught you better than this, Senedal. Unless your intention is to shame me in front of this new crew.”

  Dare rolled her blue eyes at Cyrus playfully, her cheeks glowing from their invigorating match. More than invigorating. Dare, it seemed, was just warming up for more. Cyrus, on the other hand, was ready to lie down once more. Or have another cup of that hot, restorative tea that monster of a first mate brought to him twice daily since he’d arrived on this unique airship.

  Dare shook her head. “You think I hold back, Arendal?”

  Cyrus grunted, evading a low dagger strike with a swift side step. “I know you do. I believe over a decade of training you have given me insight into how you think. You still let your thoughts and feelings distract you.”

  She stepped back, a strange expression on her face as she looked over his shoulder. “Perhaps you are correct.” Dare bit her lip in a telling gesture that Cyrus recognized from when she was a child. She was unsure. He lowered his weapon.

  Her shoulders squared and she raised her voice. “Seraphina? Cyrus believes I am too tenderhearted to give him the sparring match he desires. I think you would be a better opponent for him, don’t you?”

  Cyrus turned as if in slow motion, noting the pity, the apology in Dare’s gaze. His hand instinctively tightened on the hilt of his borrowed sword.

  He saw the tall first mate standing on the higher steerage deck, looking down at something, or someone, at his feet. The man shook his head and took a jug away from a slender hand connected to a feminine arm.

  An arm marked with unmistakable Felidae spots.

  When the woman stood and turned, Cyrus watched as the distinctive limb became a figure. A curvaceous, nubile body barely covered in a tight corset and topped with a wild mane of fiery red hair. His heart began to pound. It beat out an angry rhythm in his head. In that rhythm was a name.

  Seraphina Felidae.

  There were images that had sustained him under the burning heat of the sun and plagued him during the long, cold nights he was away. They had kept his rage alive and focused his energy. They’d helped him escape his shameful fate and arrive, insensate but alive, at the Deviant.

  All of those images had been of her.

  Her bare breasts filling his hands. Her sharp teeth digging into his flesh. Her cries when he’d licked one velvet marking on her spine, his hips pounding against her again and again.

  The look in her emerald green eyes when he’d asked her to stay the whole night. Desire and regret. She’d kissed him and he’d felt the sharp sting of a dart piercing his flesh.

  In those moments before he lost consciousness, he’d cursed her, and himself, for being taken in. For believing the power of the need between them was real enough to risk his mission. To make himself vulnerable. His own desire had betrayed him, but she had dealt the killing blow to his pride and opened the door to the enemy while he was at his most vulnerable.

  Seraphina Felidae. She was here. On the Deviant.

  He snarled. “I accept your replacement, Dare. Gladly.”

  His gaze was trained on her every movement, noticing her hesitation. Her tension. It seemed she did not want to fight him.

  He would have to change that. “How did she convince you to let her on board?” he asked to the group at large. “She must have given someone as hard a ride as she gave me. She is talented in that area. Almost as talented in bed as she is at deceit.”

  “Cyrus.” Dare whispered the admonishment, but he would not listen. She couldn’t know what he’d been through.

  “You forget my abilities, brother. I know what you are feeling. Just remember, she is loyal to our queen. Our ally.”

  “She is loyal to no one but herself.” He knew Seraphina could hear him and saw her tail stiffen at the insult. “How could she be? We all know what she is.”

  He was a bastard, but he could not help the elation that coursed through him as he watched her leap over the balustrade and onto the deck. Adrenaline raced in his bloodstream despite his fatigue. Rage gave him strength.

  He was Wode.

  She held up a hand and caught the two daggers someone tossed her way with an ease that had Cyrus licking his lips in anticipation.

  He smirked. “No whip, Felidae?”

  “You’re injured. Being what I am, even I would not kick a wounded babe for sport. Besides, I need no whip to beat you. We all know what you are as well.”

  They circled each other and to Cyrus it seemed everyone else disappeared. Only she remained. Her intoxicating scent. Her body.

  Her betrayal.

  “What a reunion to wake to.” He chuckled bitterly. “James Stacy and his friends, the brothel owner, and now you. Am I to believe I’m back on the Siren? That the past few months were merely a nightmare? Or did you all want another ch
ance to sell me to the highest bidder?”

  Seraphina flinched, her body tense. Wary. “Much as I’d love to blame them, you and I both know they had nothing to do with what happened to you. Why waste all that passion on people who have not earned it?”

  “Why, indeed.” He strode closer to her, his sword out, leaving himself wide open. “You want passion? Fight me.”

  She made no move to strike him, though he noticed her knuckles were white around each dagger’s hilt. He wanted her to. He wanted a reason to release all that was pent up inside him. All that pain. All he had been through. And all the while the people he loved in danger because he allowed this woman to come to his bed. “How much was I worth?”

  “What?” She shifted, taking a step back.

  Cyrus moved closer, unwilling to give her a chance to escape. “The Queen’s Sword must have been worth something. They went to so much trouble to take me out of a heavily guarded submersible. That is no easy feat.”

  “If only, Arendal.” Bodhan’s voice was condescending, a grating and unwelcome interruption. “The Deviant’s crew plucked me out of my bed without a single shot fired. The Siren’s security has been lacking of late.”

  James Stacy groaned behind him. “I’ve apologized for that, sir. It will not happen again.”

  He wanted them gone. Wanted their silence. If he had a gun…

  Seraphina inhaled sharply. “Keep out of this, all of you. This is between sword boy and I, isn’t it, Cyrus? I tied him up and dragged him unwillingly to my bed. I personally gave him each new scar on his body.” She smiled and licked her lips, taunting him. “Oh and did I mention? I thoroughly defiled innocent Dare in front of Bodhan and a paying customer.”

  Cyrus could not stop the raw sound of outrage that escaped from his chest. She knew. Knew the words to rend his control from his grasp. To shred it to pieces until he was more animal than man. She had done this to him. Made him this beast that couldn’t think. His head was clouded, his body aching and his heart fighting to explode from his chest.

  Her fault. Seraphina Felidae.