Carnal Indulgence

by Kate Hill

  The wolf in Andre floated just beneath the surface, ready to spring forth at any moment should Crispin lose his seemingly fragile hold on his temper. This was the wolf he had once met in battle, the one Andre had hoped existed beneath Crispin’s nonchalant manner. This was the wolf Andre was depending upon to fight with him on the dangerous journey to Morall’s Treasure.

  “If you can get a hold of yourself, I think you’ll find this partnership to be most profitable for both of us. I’ll make you a deal, Snaghand. I won’t mention your clan again if you don’t mention my choice in women.”

  “I accept,” Crispin sneered, his reddish brown pelt receding so that he once again looked deceptively human.

  Andre took a last swallow from his goblet of wine and left Crispin sipping tea, a faraway look in his eyes and his silver claws tapping rhythmically on the tabletop.

  Chapter Two

  Crispin took the scabbard Jolie handed to him, put it on and sheathed his sword.

  “Why won’t you tell me where you’re going?” Jolie said with her usual impertinence. She was one of the few people with guts enough to make demands of him. It was one of the things he liked about her.

  “Because it’s none of your business,” he replied.

  Though not a paternal sort of man, he considered her the closest thing to a daughter he’d probably ever have. Since finding her, the only survivor of a raided village nearly a year ago, he’d taught her everything he knew about fighting, sailing, and staying alive while pursued by enemies. She’d taken to life at sea as if she’d been born there. It crossed his mind that perhaps a pirate ship wasn’t the ideal environment for a sixteen-year-old girl, but since when was life ideal?

  “You’re up to something dangerous and exciting, aren’t you?” she continued, shoving her long black braid over her shoulder. “And you’re keeping it from me so you can have all the fun while I’m stuck here.”

  “Keep quiet and hand me my dagger.”

  She took the weapon from his desk and approached with an obstinate look in her brown eyes. A low growl rumbled in her throat and her fangs elongated. “I should drive it through your heart for making me stay here while you’re off having fun.”

  He tore the dagger from her hand and gave her a warning growl. “You’re not good enough to best me, girl. Behave or I’ll toss you overboard.”

  They glared at each other for several seconds then smiled. Jolie flopped into his chair and watched as he bound his hair at his nape with a piece of rope. The longing expression in her eyes almost got to him. Almost. Though he didn’t foresee any real problems when he and Andre went after Chantel Fire Eyes, he still felt a bit uneasy. If there was going to be trouble, Jolie would be safer aboard the ship. The girl had seen battle before and she was one of the best huntresses he’d ever known, but when it came to anything regarding Morall’s Treasure, he wanted her kept far from it. There was simply too much danger surrounding it.

  “Cris?” Jolie said in a soft tone that meant she wanted something. The sound of her voice combined with the knowing expression in her eyes sent off a warning bell in his mind.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Why have you been corresponding with Andre of the Merciless Annie?”

  Damn the brat! Sometimes he thought he’d taught her too well. “What makes you think I have been?”

  She laughed and shifted position on the chair so her feet were tucked up under her. “You didn’t think you’d keep that kind of information from me, did you? Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Please? If you’re being this polite you must be really curious. Sorry, luv. You’re going to be kept in the dark a bit longer. And wipe that crafty look off your face. I’m serious about this.”

  “But --”

  “I said no. Try not to be too destructive while I’m gone.” He playfully ruffled her hair and she jerked her head away.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He turned and headed for the door.

  “Cris?”

  “What now?”

  “Be careful.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he winked at her then left the cabin.

  Topside waited the party of men he’d selected to accompany him on the job. Andre and his men would meet them ashore, then they would seek out Chantel and take her as quickly as possible, careful not to create a stir. Not that anyone at Port Rage gave a damn about crime, but others might have an interest in the key to Morall’s Treasure.

  On shore, Andre and several of his crewmen awaited Crispin in their designated meeting spot just outside a tavern. Tall and powerfully-built, Andre had the look of a man born to command. He carried himself with an aloofness that betrayed his pure bloodline, even if he tried to disguise it with his roguish clothes and shaved head that had a spider tattooed on top of it.

  He was undoubtedly a better class of wolf than Crispin. Not that it mattered in their chosen profession. To thieves, bloodlines didn’t mean much. Crispin didn’t care about bloodlines anyway. Among honorable wolves and vampires, impressive bloodlines meant just about everything, but Crispin had bested too many “pure” wolves in battle to have much regard for the class system.

  At a motion from their Captains, Crispin and Andre’s crewmen dispersed, blending in with the rest of the men and women mingling on the lantern-lit street.

  “She’s inside,” Andre said, glancing at Crispin with his one bluish-gray eye. The other was covered by a patch. “She has one large wolf with her. A guard most likely, but we’ll have no problem handling him. If you look in the window, she’s seated at the table by the stairway.”

  Crispin glanced in the tavern window and caught a glimpse of the object of their desire. An odd feeling clawed its way through his insides. He wasn’t usually attracted to vampires, but she was fucking gorgeous. Not at all what he had expected. Tall and curvy, she lounged in round-backed wooden chair, one leg clad in snug breeches stretched out in front of her, the other knee bent. She had an arm slung over the back of the chair, the position giving satisfying lift to her ample cleavage that swelled above the half-open front of her billowy white linen shirt. Her long, curly black hair was bound in a thick braid that hung over her shoulder. A pistol and dagger glittered in her red and gold braided belt.

  For several moments Crispin stared, entranced. His cock twitched to life as he imagined plunging it deep inside her, squeezing her gorgeous brown breasts, and kissing those full, red-painted lips that moved in thrilling little shapes as she talked.

  “See what I mean about her guard?”

  Guard? What guard? Crispin jerked back to reality and let his gaze roam to the enormous, muscle-bound wolf seated across from her. He wore his beast shape, slightly elongated snout, gleaming fangs exposed, and a black pelt covering his entire body. One of his hairy, clawed hands curved around a mug. He lifted it and took a long sip.

  “So he’s big,” Crispin shrugged. “I’ve taken bigger. Besides, there’s two of us and one of him.”

  “What about her?”

  “Oh please,” Crispin scoffed. “My only concern about her was that I thought she would be a more intelligent rival. Now that I see she has indeed been stupid enough to be careless with information about the key as well as come ashore with just one man for protection, I know we’ll have no problem. The key is as good as ours. And here she comes now.”

  They moved away from the door, gave quick and discrete signals to their men, and waited for Chantel to step outside.

  When she strode through the door and swept past him, Crispin caught the scent of ginger.

  A gust of wind blew across the port and the very end of Chantel’s braid brushed across Andre’s face. A twinge of jealousy rushed through Crispin because his rival had touched her.

  This was crazy. A man like him having such thoughts about a wench he’d never seen before. A stupid wench at that. She was about to be robbed. Lucky for her he had absolutely no interest in rape. He much preferred the fantasy of her attack
ing him, then he would willingly put her in her place. Show her what it was like to fuck an alpha wolf.

  He noted with some irritation that Andre was also watching her swaying ass with appreciation. Crispin nearly smirked. Andre was so well-controlled that he had wondered if he even noticed women. Apparently his rival had hidden appetites.

  Chantel was moving away from the tavern now, the muscle-bound wolf at her side.

  As Chantel headed toward an inn, Crispin, Andre and their men followed, preparing to nab her before she reached her destination. At that moment, every man at Port Rage seemed to leap on them at once.

  Chantel stood a safe distance from the enormous crowd of wolves and vampires attacking Crispin Snaghand and Captain Andre. Using her sizeable fortune, she’d hired every thug at Port Rage as well as several ships worth from elsewhere to capture the two men who stupidly thought to kidnap her. The rivalry between her and the wolves had begun over two centuries ago when her grandmother and their grandfathers had started their search for Morall’s Treasure. Crispin and Andre’s grandfathers had found the key and while fighting each other for it, Chantel’s grandmother had stolen it.

  All three had spent the remainder of their lives -- incredibly short lives for creatures capable of living centuries -- chasing and fighting each other. It continued through the next generation, claiming the lives of Crispin and Andre’s fathers and Chantel’s mother. Fortunately her mother had been intelligent enough to thoroughly research the key. She had learned enough to quite possibly find the treasure had her own life not been cut short. Before she died, she’d passed on what she knew to Chantel.

  Yes, Crispin and Andre had been pursuing her, but what they didn’t realize was that she’d been pursuing them with equal fervor. If she could convince them to see reason, together they might finally uncover the treasure that had caused so much pain to their families.

  Unfortunately, by the look of them, reason didn’t seem to be their strong point. Surrounded by enough armed men to literally crush the life out of their powerful wolf bodies, they fought like demons. Already their wolf pelts were matted with blood and their eyes practically glowed with rage. Their savage howls echoed above all others as they used their weapons, both natural and manmade, to slowly push back the crowd. For a moment she was so impressed with not only their skill but their incredible heart that she almost forgot their attackers were under her command. She found herself clenching her fists, scarcely breathing as she wished for them to win the battle.

  Though many vampires considered wolves a bit beneath them, Chantel found them to be fascinating creatures. Her first mate, Belden, had served her loyally for decades. He was intelligent and an excellent warrior, yet he had never provoked feelings in her such as she now experienced when watching Crispin and Andre fight.

  Andre was larger built than Crispin with bluish-gray eyes and a light brown pelt. He fought with power and precision. Crispin, leaner and covered with a dark auburn pelt that gleamed almost blood red in the lantern light, moved with savage grace.

  Just watching their sleekly muscled bodies twist and leap in attack and defense sent a wild thrill coursing through Chantel. Her heart pounded and a sexual ache started low in her belly and spread through her entire body. The scent of blood hung heavily on the air, stirring her vampiric lust.

  “Uh, Chantel,” Belden spoke close to her ear, shaking her from her entranced state. “I think they’re winning.”

  Her brow furrowed. He was right. Though the handful of men they’d brought to back them up had already been subdued, Crispin and Andre were still tearing through their attackers. Fighting back to back, they were actually doing serious damage. She’d paid her men not to use firearms, but now, fearful for their lives, many drew pistols. Before they fired, several wolves who had climbed into nearby trees dropped a weighted net over Crispin and Andre. Still it took nearly a dozen wolves to pin them immobile to the ground.

  The sound of panting breath filled the otherwise silent street as Chantel approached.

  “Hello, gentlemen.” She smiled at Crispin and Andre. They glared at her, their eyes blood red from the fight and the thick iron net cutting into their straining bodies. The wolves pinning the net to the ground grunted but kept a firm hold on their dangerous captives.

  “You were looking for me, right?” Chantel continued.

  “You bitch,” Crispin snarled, his fangs glowing white against his auburn pelt. Even when rough with rage, his voice was incredibly arousing, like that of a hot young wolf, deep yet full of vigor. He growled at Andre. “I told you this wouldn’t work.”

  “If you’re going to kill us, do it quickly because if I get free I’ll snap your pretty neck,” Andre seethed, his eyes flashing at Chantel in a way that sent lightning bolts of desire shooting through her.

  Damn, these were two fucking gorgeous brutes.

  She shook her head and whistled. “Captain Andre, that’s no way to talk to a lady, and it certainly won’t encourage me to discuss my offer with you.”

  “Fuck your offer!” Crispin roared.

  “Wait a minute.” Andre’s anger seemed to fade -- or at least he stopped struggling. Beneath the fury in his eyes, curiosity burned. “What offer?”

  Chantel glanced from Andre to Crispin and folded her arms beneath her ample breasts. “I know what you want from me and I’m more than willing to strike a bargain, if you boys are capable of conducting yourselves like gentlemen.”

  “I am a gentleman,” Andre said.

  She lifted an eyebrow at his bloodied face, gory fangs and torn clothes. “Right. I can see that.”

  “I’m not a gentleman, but when a beautiful woman makes an offer, I make a point to listen,” Crispin said and, to her surprise, shifted to his human form, his pelt and fangs receding.

  Lord, he was handsome with his longish, well-shaped nose and square jaw. His violet eyes that had glared so savagely a moment ago now stared at her with an alluring look that might have charmed a weaker woman into giving him anything he wanted.

  “If I let you boys up, will you promise to be good? Because if you’re not,” she removed her pistol and held it up, “I use silver bullets. So does my crew. Though I guarantee that once you hear what I have to say, the three of us will never draw weapons on each other again.”

  Now Andre shifted back to his human form, exchanged glances with Crispin, and said, “Intriguing.”

  “Very,” Crispin replied.

  “You may release us.”

  Chantel stepped back and motioned for the men to let go of the net. They did so reluctantly while others kept their pistols aimed at Crispin and Andre who stood slowly, shrugging off the heavy iron net.

  “This way.” Chantel motioned toward the inn.

  Andre’s gaze swept Chantel as he and Crispin followed her inside. The oversized wolf walked behind them and Andre smelled his wariness. In spite of the other wolf’s size, Andre sensed he wasn’t an alpha. He might be a strong warrior, but not nearly as dangerous as Crispin or Andre himself.

  They walked up a flight of stairs and down a dimly lit corridor. Chantel paused outside the door to her room and, to Andre’s surprise, instructed her wolf guard to leave them alone.

  “But Chantel…”

  “Do as I say, Belden.”

  He glanced from Crispin to Andre, his expression one of mistrust, and left.

  Chantel opened the door and stepped into the room. A fire had been lit and a meal was spread on the table. On a chest of drawers rested a large bowl of water and several towels.

  “Feel free to clean up.” Chantel wrinkled her cute little nose as her gaze swept the men. They were covered in blood and dirt from the fight, their shirts and cloaks torn.

  “Business first,” Crispin said.

  “We can talk while you clean up. Some of those wounds need attention.”

  She was right. Even though the wolves were regenerating quickly, several of their injuries were rather deep. They shed their torn cloaks and shirts. Chantel drew a deep br
eath and felt her nipples tighten just from looking at their bare torsos.

  Both were exceptionally well built, lean yet muscular. Andre was more thickly muscled than Crispin, his skin a light golden tan. Four jagged scars marred his otherwise smooth chest and a black patch covered one of his eyes. Crispin had a swarthy complexion and a light dusting of hair on his chest. Front and back he was crisscrossed with what looked to be marks from a flogging. To leave such scars he must have been beaten with a silver scourge. When he turned, beneath the blood, she saw a sword tattooed on his back, the hilt at his shoulders and the point running down his spine.

  Andre walked to the chest of drawers, took a towel, ripped it and tossed half to Crispin. They soaked the pieces in the water and began cleaning their injuries while Chantel talked.

  “You both know that my grandmother had the map and key to Morall’s Treasure. When she died, she left them to my mother who spent years wasting as much time as you have trying to find the treasure on her own. One thing that always bothered her about the key were two etchings on it that reminded her of symbols used by the Acynnsta tribe on an island she’d visited years before.”

  “Acynnsta supposedly can conjure strong magic, if you believe that sort of thing,” Andre said.

  “My mother stopped pursuing the treasure and began researching the key. She took it to an Acynnsta priestess who showed her how to read hidden messages in the map. Turns out it’s not just a map, but rules to a game.”

  “A game?” Crispin curled his lip, grunting as he twisted, trying to reach a particularly deep gash on his back.

  Andre soaked another cloth and grasped Crispin’s arm. “Stand still. I’ll clean it.”

  “I don’t need your help,” Crispin growled, pulling away.

  “If you don’t want to bleed all over the floor, you do,” Chantel said in tone that was both annoyed and patronizing. She took the cloth from Andre and approached Crispin. “Turn around.”