Carnal Indulgence

by Kate Hill

  Carnal Indulgence

  Kate Hill

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2006 Kate Hill

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file copying or sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. Willful violation of this policy will result in suspension of account privileges and will lead to prosecution.

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  ISBN (10) 1-59596-598-X

  ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-598-1

  Formats Available:

  HTML, Adobe PDF,

  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Sheri Ross Fogarty

  Cover Artist: Sahara Kelly

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Chapter One

  There were two things Crispin Snaghand liked wild. His women and his enemies. At the moment, the two curvy wenches in his bed had him fairly well distracted, though a bit more aggression on their part would have been preferable. Still, they were worth the money. Relatively clean and eager to please, Audra and Evette often served his carnal needs when he docked at Port Rage.

  Audra knelt between his legs, her fist curled around his shaft as she lapped the head with her warm, wet tongue. Evette lay close to his side, licking, kissing and scratching his chest.

  “You’re handsome as the devil, Cris,” Evette murmured between kisses. Her wolfish fangs elongated a bit and scraped over his nipple, then she nipped his lean side.

  Crispin raised his eyes to the heavens. He buried his fingers in hair that was nearly as long and kinky as his own and growled, “You should know by now I don’t pay extra for flattery.”

  She tilted her face so that her gaze met his. “I’m speaking the truth. You are handsome as the devil.”

  “Maybe I am the devil.” A smirk twisted his lips before he tightened his grip on her hair, making her gasp, and dragged her up his body. He kissed her hard. Her lips opened to his thrusting tongue. He wished she’d bite it. Most wolves kept their fangs off each other in the bedroom, but Crispin liked a woman with bite. He could have told them what he wanted, after all he was paying for it, but giving such explicit instructions got tiring. Every now and then he’d find a real bitch who could match him between the sheets. Unfortunately when he did she ended up nearly biting his cock off, too. Somewhere there had to be a woman who was dangerous without being completely crazy.

  “Mmm,” Evette moaned, her tongue flicking the sensitive underside of his cock head.

  Crispin’s eyes slipped shut and he groaned. They’d been at it for nearly and hour and things were just getting exciting.

  “Enough,” he snapped, using his knee to shove Evette aside.

  He pushed Audra onto her stomach then grasped her hips and roughly guided her to a kneeling position. Grunting with animal pleasure, he placed a hand on each hip. A leather glove covered one of his hands. The other was bare and he relished the feel of her hot, damp flesh against his palm. His thick cock ached for release. Not that he hadn’t already taken more than his share from these wenches, but Crispin was known for his voracity.

  He began thrusting in a fast, steady rhythm that soon had Audra howling with delight. For women like this, accustomed to men paying for a half dozen thrusts or maybe a quick cock-sucking, the pleasure Crispin gave them was worth as much as a tip and he knew it. In the ports he frequented, wenches flocked around him and he certainly didn’t have a reputation of being free with his money.

  Only when Audra cried out in ecstasy and her wet cunt throbbed around him did he pull out and reach for Evette. Her pale green eyes gleamed with desire and she clung to him tightly, her arms and legs wrapped around him as he grasped the carved wooden headboard and thrust into her. The bed shook from the vigor of their fucking.

  Evette moaned and panted, her head thrashing from side to side as she climaxed once then began another ascent into ecstasy. This time as she neared her peak, Crispin closed his eyes, his heart pounding out of control and his cock close to bursting. Any moment he was going to shoot off like a fucking volcano.

  Someone pounded on the cabin door.

  “Captain!” his first mate, Syd, called. “I have a message for you.”

  Crispin’s eyes flew open and he practically roared with frustration. He continued thrusting his cock into Evette’s hot, slick cunt.

  “Captain!” Syd repeated.

  With a savage growl, Crispin pulled out of Evette and stood. His chest rose and fell with unfulfilled passion that bordered on rage.

  “Get out,” he snapped at the women, reaching for his trousers and dragging them on.

  Evette, her face flushed and breasts heaving, raised herself onto her elbows and stared at him with disappointment. “But, Cris --”

  “I said out!” he roared, pulled two small pouches of coins from his desk drawer and flung them onto the bed.

  Without further comment, the women quickly snatched their money and reached for their dresses. Before they had a chance to pull them on, Crispin flung open the door and glowered at Syd. Quite an accomplishment considering Syd was nearly a head taller than Crispin and Crispin himself was taller than average.

  “What is it?” Crispin demanded.

  “Sorry to bother you.” Syd glanced at the two whores who were buttoning their dresses while flashing sultry looks in the men’s direction.

  “What part of ‘get out’ don’t you understand?” Crispin said in his deadliest voice and the women, their dresses still unbuttoned, fled the cabin.

  Once they were gone, Crispin slammed the door and walked to his desk. He sat on the chair, propped one leg over the arm, and fixed his glare on Syd. “This better be important. I don’t like being disturbed when I’m thus engaged.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Syd murmured, then cleared his throat at Crispin’s low growl. “This was just delivered. You said as soon as we saw the spider seal to bring you the message no matter what.” He held out an envelope with a seal Crispin recognized as belonging to one of his oldest rivals, a man known only as Captain Andre.

  “Good.” Crispin snatched the envelope and tore it open. He quickly read the message and couldn’t resist a slight smile. “The messenger is still aboard?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Crispin straightened in his chair and reached for a slip of parchment. He wrote a short reply, sealed the envelope, and handed it to Syd. “Once the messenger is gone with this, set sail for Bloodbush Island. When we arrive, I’ll be going ashore and will send a message to you within the hour. If you don’t receive such a message, it’s open war on the Merciless Annie.”

  “That’s Captain Andre’s ship,” Syd replied calmly, though there was a hint of fear behind his cool gray eyes.

  Crispin curled his lip. “I know.”

  For decades he and Captain Andre had been rivals in seeking a treasure that had killed their fathers and grandfathers before them. The search for that same treasure had cost Crispin more than he could ever regain. Andre had suffered in the hunt, as well. Though he was loathe to admit it, Crispin had come to believe there was only one way to reach the elusive treasure. He only hoped Andre had finally realized that same truth.

  * * *

  Captain Andre
sat at a table in a dimly lit corner of the tavern on Bloodbush Island. As always, he sat with his blind side toward the wall. The goblet of wine in front of him remained untouched. Not only was the place too disgusting for him to consider eating or drinking here, but at the moment he had no thirst or hunger except for knowledge.

  Crispin Snaghand’s message had come as a surprise, not because Andre didn’t think they needed to come to an understanding regarding the treasure they both pursued, but because Snaghand was known as a stubborn fool. Not a fool in the sense of lacking intelligence. Andre knew better than to underestimate the man’s cunning. Snaghand was a fool for his uncontrollable temper. Ruled by hatred, a desire for vengeance, he would rather die than admit he needed help from anyone or anything. The man was, as they say, a loose cannon, yet he was the only person to ever get as close to the treasure as Andre himself. That meant he could be a powerful ally, if he’d only agree to it.

  Though Andre sat by himself, several of his men were positioned at other tables. He and Snaghand had agreed to meet alone, but Andre didn’t trust the man not to use this meeting as a chance to attack and gain whatever information about the treasure his rival might have. Andre needed to be ready for anything. For all he knew, some of the patrons around him right now might be part of Snaghand’s crew.

  A glance out the window across the tavern told Andre night had fallen. Rain pelted the glass as well as the rooftop and thunder rumbled in the distance. The heavy wooden door creaked open and in stepped Crispin Snaghand. His dark auburn hair hung in rain-drenched ringlets down his shoulders and droplets created a dewy glow on his long, black wool cloak. As soon as he stepped inside, his odd violet gaze riveted to Andre and an almost mocking smile touched his lips.

  Andre resisted the urge to growl. The last time he and Snaghand had been this close, they’d nearly killed each other. Andre still bore the scars from the bastard’s faux claws that were even more dangerous than the real thing.

  Crispin had once been captured by Opal Criers, warriors more animalistic than the lowest class of wolf. Larger and clumsier than wolves, they were covered in shaggy white fur and had eyes so pale they were almost white. They had hacked off all the fingers on Crispin’s left hand before he managed to escape. Since the Opal Criers used silver knives, his fingers had never regenerated. He fashioned a bracelet of iron attached to rings that fitted over the five nubs where his thumb and fingers had been. Fastened to the rings were iron claws that mimicked his natural wolf’s claws, but these claws were dipped in silver and had jagged edges, hence his name Snaghand.

  If not for a lucky thrust with his dagger, Andre might have lost his life to those silver claws that day. Yes, Snaghand was his greatest rival, but also his most respected.

  “Andre. I can’t exactly say it’s nice to see you,” Snaghand said in a deceptively good-natured tone as he took a seat across the table.

  “Not good, but hopefully profitable,” Andre said.

  A tavern maid approached and smiled provocatively at Crispin who returned the gesture with a lecherous expression. To Andre’s disgust, the maid actually seemed to melt. Crispin’s reputation with women was nothing short of legendary.

  “Hello, luv,” she said. “What can I get you?”

  “Let me see,” Crispin said, a low growl of lust rumbling in his chest. He placed his faux-clawed hand on the table and tapped a jagged, silver claw on the wood. The maid’s gaze turned to his hand and a hint of fear crossed her face, though she recovered quickly. No one from Bloodbush Island could afford to scare too easily. The place was a haven for cutthroats and thieves.

  “Tea.”

  “Tea?” The maid curled her lip. Even Andre was a bit surprised by Snaghand’s request. “Not much of a drinker, luv?”

  Crispin’s lips curved into slight yet wicked smile. “I’m afraid I have other vices that require a clear head. And they’re much more fun.” His kept eye contact with the maid who took her lower lip between her teeth stared at him like a lovesick cow. The scent of her lust permeated the air.

  “Let’s get down to business,” Andre said gruffly. He glanced at the maid. “Now that you know what he wants, we require privacy.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, tearing her gaze from Crispin and leaving them alone.

  “Well, Andre, your message was intriguing and far closer to my own thoughts than I want to admit.”

  “It only makes sense for us to go after this together. We’ve spent our lives searching for Morall’s Treasure and if we don’t start rethinking our tactics, we’re going to end up like our fathers and grandfathers.”

  “Dead.” Crispin nodded. “I agree. The problem is, all we know are bits and pieces of the trail left by our fathers. There is a map and key somewhere.”

  “Stolen by a vampiress called Monique the Piper. The only woman who ever managed to outsmart my grandfather, the evil bitch.”

  “Please.” Crispin’s brow furrowed. “Don’t give her the honor of being called bitch. I can think of other far more fitting terms. The vampire cu --”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Andre interrupted, his gaze fixed on Crispin’s. “The point is, I’ve found out that her granddaughter is in possession of the map and the key.”

  “So why are we sitting here?” Crispin stood. “Let’s get the wench and --”

  “The wench is Chantel Fire Eyes.”

  Another slow smile spread across Crispin’s lips and he took his seat again. “Ah. Speaking of bitches…”

  “Exactly. Which is why we need to plan this very, very carefully.”

  “You sound almost as if you’re afraid of her.”

  “Any man would be a fool not to be wary. I’m sure you know her reputation.”

  Crispin shrugged. “She’s still just a woman.”

  “Just a woman? That woman has taken more ships and stolen more goods than both of us put together, and she’s done it with scarcely a blow struck.”

  “So what? It’s a fact that most vampires detest violence and so do most women. She has two strikes against her. Actually it’s a wonder she’s survived this long as a pirate.”

  Andre stared at Crispin for a shocked moment then chuckled. “It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long. Do you make it a habit of underestimating rivals?”

  “Rivals no. A little girl on a boat isn’t exactly the most fearsome thing I’ve ever faced.” Crispin lifted his maimed hand and wiggled the jagged silver claws.

  “They just took your fingers. She’ll take your heart.”

  “Doubtful. I have a way with women.”

  “I mean literally take your heart, fool! When dealing with this woman we need to be careful. Take her by surprise and make sure she has no option but to do exactly what we want her to do.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “Somehow I thought you would.”

  “And once we get the key, we’ll find Morall’s Treasure together?”

  “Yes.”

  “How are we supposed to trust each other?”

  “We’ll iron out the details after we get the key. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  * * *

  One week later, after Crispin and Andre each sent a spy to determine when Chantel Fire Eyes would be at her most vulnerable, they sat in a room at an inn on Bloodbush Island.

  “With the report from our men, we know she’s going to be at Port Rage the day after tomorrow,” Andre said.

  “I still say we attack her ship en route,” Crispin stated, glancing at his silver claws and turning them slowly so they caught the lantern light.

  “We could, but her vessel is larger and better armed than ours.”

  “It’s two to one.”

  “But remember, our priority isn’t to cause a battle and draw a lot of attention. We want the key and, because of our spies, we know she always carries it on her person.”

  Crispin narrowed his eyes as if in deep thought. “Strange that she would let that information slip, even among her own crew.”

/>   “That’s why we want to be careful and not rush aboard her ship. Remember, she’s most likely expecting to be attacked at sea, just as we are. If we get her ashore, she’ll be far less protected and easier to control.”

  “I’ve found most women are simple to control, if you use the right methods.”

  “She’s not some stupid tavern wench.”

  “Women are all the same. Tavern wenches. Hunters. Queens. From eighteen to eighty, they all want the same thing,” Crispin said.

  “I don’t need lessons from the likes of you when it comes to handling women. Quantity doesn’t mean quality, Snaghand.” A growl rumbled in Andre’s chest. Maybe teaming up with Crispin hadn’t been such a good idea. The man’s attitude was beyond annoying.

  “Haven’t you ever heard that practice makes perfect? Maybe once this is over we can find you a woman who’s willing to help you hone your skills. A vampire peasant, perhaps. I hear they’re more than willing to please.”

  Andre stood so abruptly his chair nearly tumbled over backward. “If we’re finished discussing the plans, I have better ways to spend my night than sitting here with you.”

  “By all means.” Crispin gestured toward the door. “I agree to your plan about an abduction on land. It should be smooth and quick. Still, it doesn’t seem right that a woman with Fire Eyes’ reputation would let the key’s whereabouts slip. Unless I was right about her and you were wrong, which I suppose, is highly likely. I always said women were no good in battle and barely passable on the hunt.”

  “Not in my clan, but you wouldn’t know much about clan life, would you?” Andre said, eagerly awaiting Crispin’s reaction. The man seemed to take everything as a joke, or had thus far. He didn’t seem much like the vicious, half-crazed pirate he’d fought so long ago.

  At the mention of his clan, which had been wiped out by rivals when Crispin was still a boy, his violet eyes flashed with pure rage. He stood, his fangs elongating and his wolf pelt sprouting from his human skin. His silver claws poised to attack, he glared at Andre and spoke in a deep, wolfish voice. “Mention my clan again and our partnership is null and void. That means I kill you.”