by Kate Hill
“Choking to death,” Crispin gagged, his clawed hands pulling at the reeds around his neck.
“Not us,” Chantel said. “Andre, answer the question.”
“What is your greatest fear?” the watery voice repeated.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” Andre snarled.
The reeds must have tightened painfully because Chantel grunted and Crispin gagged, a desperate look in his eyes.
“Tell the truth, damn it!” Chantel snarled. “Everyone is afraid of something!”
“Sharks,” Andre ventured.
This time Chantel cried out in agony and Crispin’s eyes started to lose focus as he struggled harder, like a fish flopping on dry land.
“Your greatest fear,” said that calm, watery voice.
“Andre!” Chantel said through gritted teeth.
“Losing a battle…”
Another scream.
“Fighting the Hide Marshers again,” he said fiercely, rage and humiliation tearing through him. “I’m afraid of the Hide Marshers.”
The reeds loosened. Chantel and Crispin dropped to the cave floor. Chantel rubbed her bruised ribs while Crispin gasped and coughed.
“Are you all right?” Andre knelt beside Chantel, his hands inspecting her sides. “Is anything broken?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Cris, are you all aright?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“It’s the spell,” Chantel told them. “Acynnsta magic can control many things such as water, plants, and even the winds. If the spell asks a question, then it must be answered truthfully.”
Andre felt heat rise in his face. The last thing any man wanted was to admit his fears in front of his enemies. Though they had joined in the search for the treasure and even indulged in lovemaking, Chantel and Crispin were still his rivals. He could accept Chantel knowing his fear, but Crispin was bound to find a way to turn it against him. Without glancing at either of them, Andre walked toward the jewel. Hesitantly he reached for it, half expecting another invisible fist to knock him aside. This time his hand curved around the brilliant blue jewel. It felt warm and tingled a bit, much like the key itself.
When he turned around, Chantel and Crispin were right behind him. She held out the key and Andre placed the jewel in one of the holes. It fit perfectly and the metal around it secured the gleaming stone as if by magic.
“Well, back to the ship,” Crispin said, his voice sounding much stronger as his regenerative powers kicked in. Both he and Chantel seemed almost completely recovered from their ordeal with the reeds.
Chantel dropped the key back into its satin pouch and the lucky little object was once again nestled between her full, beautiful breasts.
Crispin was the first one out of the cave, and he paused, his hand held up before Chantel and Andre could join him outside. Another scent struck them, just as strong and wild as the Hide Marshers, yet different.
“It’s the Opal Criers,” Crispin murmured. “I’ll never forget that reek for as long as I live. Fuck. There’s a hunting party headed this way.”
Andre glanced out of the cave and saw several pairs of yellowish eyes glaring through the trees. The Opal Crier warriors, their apelike faces angry, swung from the thick branches, then dropped and headed directly for Crispin.
“Stay hidden. I’ll lead them away. Once I’m gone, get back to the ship and I’ll meet you there,” Crispin ordered.
“We can’t just leave you --” Chantel said.
“Just get her back to the ship, Andre! I know what I’m doing.” Crispin’s voice deepened as the wolf in him arose. He turned and met Andre’s gaze. “I have a plan --”
“Let us help,” Chantel said.
“We vowed to stick together,” Andre said. “Not that a pirate’s vow usually means much, but in this case --”
“Just shut up,” Crispin growled. “You’ve done your part, Andre. You and Chantel get that key to safety or you’ll both be fighting me as well as the Opal Criers. I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”
His fangs gleaming against his auburn pelt and his faux claws glittering, Crispin howled and raced toward the group of apelike warriors.
“What’s going on out there?” Chantel demanded from where she stood behind Andre. He peered out of the cave toward Crispin who tore off through the trees. The Opal Crier warriors, the same ones to whom he had lost his fingers, chased after him.
“Come.” Andre grasped Chantel’s wrist and the two raced off, heading for the cliff.
* * *
Chantel stood beside Andre on the bow of the ship, her stomach taut with concern. Fuck. At the moment she was experiencing the completely unfamiliar and thoroughly unpleasant feeling of pure worry for someone she -- Lord, she couldn’t even think about it. When had she started caring about these two wolves who had once been her most dreaded rivals?
“Captain!” Beldon shouted.
Both Chantel and Andre turned to where he pointed at a figure swimming toward the ship. Crispin!
A feeling of relief washed over her as the auburn-haired wolf neared the ship and grabbed hold of the rope Belden tossed to him. Seconds later, he was climbing over the rail. Andre grasped his arm and helped him up, but Crispin shrugged him off. Panting, his wolf pelt drenched and eyes tinged red, he flashed a roguish smile that made Chantel’s heart soar.
“Thought you’d never see me again?” Crispin asked.
“No such luck,” Andre said, though his tone was teasing. “How the hell did you…”
“Simple. I’m probably the fastest wolf you’ll ever meet. Faster than the Opal Criers. I ran them directly into the clearing where the Hide Marshers were eating the bear. They were so busy fighting each other, they lost interest in me. I kept running until I reached the beach.”
Chantel laughed and threw her arms around his neck. She covered his mouth with a penetrating kiss. His wet pelt tickled her face, but the sensation wasn’t the least bit unpleasant. Crispin seemed almost surprised by this burst of affection, as if he didn’t expect anything from her outside of the bedroom. Actually, it was the first time she’d ever kissed a man in… could it be affection?
Andre also wore a slight yet genuine smile on his lips. “You get points for the sheer size of your balls, mate.”
Glancing down at his furred crotch, Crispin shrugged. “Not so sure about that at the moment. The water is cold.”
“Fool!” Chantel teased, playfully slapping his shoulder. “Let’s go below and dry off.”
As the trio walked to the cabin, Crispin glanced toward Andre. “Every time one of us gets wet she takes us below to change. Not a bad arrangement.”
Once in the cabin, Chantel flung her arms around Crispin and practically knocked him against the wall while covering his mouth with a deep, passionate kiss. She felt his wolfish coat recede as he switched to his full man form.
She thrust her tongue into his mouth and he responded with enough fervor to steal her breath. His arm wrapped around her waist and he buried his fingers in her hair, holding her closer.
Even when she tried to break the kiss and draw a breath he refused to let her go, forcing her to gasp into his mouth. She felt his chest rumble against her breasts as he growled with desire. Chantel’s hands roamed over his shoulders and back, relishing how slick and slightly chilled his flesh was from his swim.
Crispin nipped her full lower lip and sucked on it before finally releasing her. She pulled back slightly to run her hands over his chest. She stroked the hard muscles, relishing the light dusting of chest hair. Her fingers rolled over his nipples then she raked her nails from his breastbone to the waist of his trousers.
His gleaming eyes stared into hers and he said, “I love aggressive women.” Again he kissed her even more deeply than before.
Chantel closed her eyes, sucked on his tongue and slid her hands up his back to his head. She clutched handfuls of his hair, pulling rather tightly, just how she knew he liked it.
When the kiss broke, they glanced at Andre who stood, one broad shoulder leaning against the doorway. He stared at them with his one intense eye. The sight of his powerful, naked body was enough to make Chantel lick her lips. His one eye studied them with smoldering passion that sent another thrill of rapture through Chantel’s belly.
“How about you?” Crispin asked Andre, his voice husky. “Do you like aggressive women?”
“I like this woman.” Andre nodded in Chantel’s direction. He straightened and approached his companions. His large, warm hands covered her shoulders and he tugged her out of Crispin’s arms and into his.
Crispin growled again, this time sounding slightly annoyed, yet he didn’t interfere as Andre began licking and kissing Chantel’s neck. Little shivers of passion coursed through her and she stroked his smooth scalp, then tugged his earring playfully.
While Chantel was occupied with Andre, Crispin yanked the covers off the bed and flopped onto his back. One hand curled around his cock and he stroked, watching Chantel and Andre savor each hot, deep kiss. While the alpha male in him rebelled against seeing another wolf paw his woman, another part enjoyed their three-way fucks.
Crispin paused, his heart pounding from more than sexual excitement. When had he started thinking of Chantel as his woman? Even worse, when had he begun considering Andre a -- dare he say it -- friend? The more time they spent with each other, the better he felt he knew his companions. A very short time ago he would have relished learning about Andre’s most secret fear. Yet when he had the chance to taunt him, even use that fear against him, he didn’t. Not only because Andre had saved his life -- for what reason Crispin still couldn’t fathom -- but Cris was learning to respect his rival.
On the island, Crispin had taken it upon himself to lead the Opal Criers into the midst of the Hide Marshers to spare Andre the possibility of another confrontation with the creatures he most feared. For some strange reason, hearing Andre speak candidly of his deepest fear had touched him.
Crispin snarled and shook his head clear of the memory. Since when had he felt anything for anybody, except hate? When his clan had been destroyed, so had his ability to care about anyone or anything. Or so he’d thought.
Andre and Chantel broke their kiss and approached the bed.
“You look lonely over here by yourself,” Chantel purred, stretching out beside Crispin and grasping his balls. His eyes closed halfway and he groaned with anticipation when she squeezed. Her warm hand was soft yet strong and he loved how she touched him.
When she released his balls and climbed over him, her silky legs brushing his flesh, he opened his eyes partway and watched her kneel between him and Andre who also lay on his back. A coquettish grin on her full, beautiful lips, she grasped Crispin’s cock in one hand and Andre’s in her other. She began stroking them simultaneously, using their foreskins to tease their sensitive cock heads. The idea of her fondling both at once sent an erotic thrill tearing through Crispin. His cock grew harder and it throbbed with pleasure. Fuck, this was one of the most erotic experiences of his life and he’d had many. Though he’d bedded several woman at once many times before, this sharing of one woman with another man was a taste he could definitely develop.
Still clutching both men’s shafts, she leaned toward Crispin’s and lapped his cock head. Her tongue fluttered along the underside and Crispin’s hips thrust with scarcely restrained passion. It took all his control to keep from shooting off like a young wolf with his first bitch.
She chuckled, turned to Andre and did the same. As she licked the crown of his erection, he growled, moaned, and grasped one of her large breasts. A marvelous idea.
Crispin grasped her other breast and kneaded to the same rhythm with which she stroked their cocks.
“Mmm. I like this,” Chantel murmured, once again straightening her posture. She wiggled a bit and the aroma of her lust mingled with the wolves’ musky scent.
Crispin released her breast so he could roll his thumb over her clit. She raised herself slightly on her knees, allowing him to gather moisture from her damp pussy. Then he stroked her clit with his wet thumb and fingers.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned. Her eyes slipped shut and she arched her back and neck while briskly rubbing their cocks.
Crispin longed to close his eyes, but at the same time couldn’t keep from staring at her as she neared her climax. A quick glance at Andre revealed his single eye staring, unblinking at the gorgeous vampire who was bringing them such unimaginable pleasure. Andre continued fondling her breasts while Crispin played with her plump clit. All three writhed, their hips thrusting and their lustful moans filling the cabin.
With a sharp cry of fulfillment, Chantel came. Her hand tightened on Crispin’s cock, though she never stopped rubbing him, even through her own orgasm. It took only seconds before he came, his eyes closed and body surging. Andre’s howl of delight told him that the other wolf had also climaxed.
Chantel lay between them and Crispin rolled onto his side so he could rest his cheek against her smooth back. He draped an arm over her and felt his fingertips brush Andre, but neither man cared. Sighing with contentment, Crispin smiled.
* * *
That night, after Chantel and Crispin were asleep, Andre left the bed, pulled on his clothes and went on deck. It was a clear night with many stars. He stood by the rail, staring at the rolling waves and thinking about the events of the day. It still sickened him that he’d admitted his greatest fear, yet at the same time he felt freer than he had in years.
He’d come from a pure bloodline, but his grandfather had broken with tradition and gone to sea. Though he’d started as a legitimate adventurer, he soon turned to piracy and raised Andre’s father in the same way. He in turn taught Andre all he knew.
Always a fearless warrior and great hunter, Andre had rarely lost a fight. He’d experienced some fear in battle. Only a fool wouldn’t, but nothing and no one had terrified him as much as the Hide Marshers. Perhaps because wolves were hunters and he simply wasn’t accustomed to being the prey, but the way the Hide Marshers had tried to eat him alive struck something deep inside him. There was no dignity in such a death, just as there was no dignity in the life he led. There had to be more than this. Did he want to live his entire life as an outlaw and die without the love of a woman or the comfort of a family, just like his father had? Maybe he was getting too soft.
“Pleasant night,” Crispin said as he approached.
Andre glared at him. “If you came to gloat, I’ll rip your throat out.”
“I didn’t come to gloat and I’d like to see you try to rip out my throat.”
“What do you want then?”
Crispin shrugged and for several moments they stared silently at the water.
“Why did you risk your life today by taking it upon yourself to lead the Opal Criers away from us?” Andre asked.
“Because I owed you.”
“Owed me what?”
“If it wasn’t for you, I’d be rotting in a sea of quicksand. And then there was the little incident with the reeds.”
“I wouldn’t have expected honor from you.”
Crispin narrowed his eyes, as if in deep thought. “Neither would I. But since meeting Chantel I’ve been doing a lot of things I wouldn’t have expected.”
“She’s quite a woman.”
“Any way you look at her.”
Andre sighed and glanced at the moon. “We should turn in. It will be a busy day tomorrow.”
“I think I’ll have a howl first,” Crispin said.
Andre nodded and headed below, but not before watching Crispin climb the mast. When he reached the top, he howled, a long, sad cry that piqued Andre’s interest more than he wanted to admit. It seemed there was far more to Crispin than he’d first believed. When all this ended, he wondered if they would go back to being rivals. Though he doubted either would ever consider Chantel an enemy again, would they feel the same about each other?
Chapter Five
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Two days later, Chantel, Crispin, and Andre found themselves walking along the beach on the seemingly uninhabited Plumtree Island. The island was said to be haunted by the spirits of an extinct tribe of shapeshifting witches, so most travelers avoided stopping there. The few who had run aground on Plumtree Island and survived reported having the strange feeling of being watched. Many had awakened from sleep to the sensation of being touched by bony fingers only to find no one nearby.
According to the map, the jewel the trio sought was located at the bottom of a freshwater pool less than a mile from the shore.
“This is much better than the hike through Anna’s Wood Island,” Chantel said.
All morning she’d been trying to sound as if nothing had changed between her and the wolves. Those tender thoughts and soft emotions she’d been having lately just weren’t going to cut it in her line of work. Even if she did decide that maybe she wanted someone in her life permanently, the last place she should be looking was to Andre or Crispin. They were too wild, too self-absorbed and too jaded.
Just like me, she thought bitterly.
“Sure. No hike, but I can only imagine what tortures await us,” Crispin said. Then a wicked smile curved his lips and his violet eyes gleamed. “I can hardly wait.”
Chantel raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Did anyone ever tell you that you take the pirate thing a little too far?”
“There’s no such thing,” Andre said.
His gaze met Crispin’s and the auburn-haired wolf snorted with laughter. “Did we actually agree on something?”
Unfortunately that was about the last thing the men agreed on that day and moments later were walking along, arguing over sword fighting techniques and the best way for a pack to flush out its prey.
They cut through a small clump of trees and paused. The wolves’ discussion ended abruptly as they stared at the large, round pool surrounded by enormous catlike beasts carved from stone.
Chantel strode forward, flanked by Crispin and Andre. She approached the nearest carving and placed a hand on its shoulder, which was just about level with her head.