Page 13 of Immortal Pirates

And yet…here he was. Hiding out. Lurking in the shadows of theBlack Lass’s cargo hold. Huddling among rats and other vermin. Breathing in the stew of every unpleasant scent ever collected on a ship.

All of that, however, was mere discomfort and inconvenience. What really gnawed at him, what truly madehim growly and annoyed and frustrated beyond all Hell was the fact that the delicious, ambrosia-scented, spark-eyed Captain Arial Bonny was a mere fifteen feet directly above him…and he couldn’t get to her.

Well, it wasn’t that he couldn’tphysicallyget to her—there was very little that could keep a vampire of the Dracule from getting what he wanted. It was that he didn’t quite knowhowto get to her…how towooher, he supposed was the correct word.

Woo?

Raine snarled to himself in the smelly damp darkness. Lord Norringford never had towooanyone. The women of London, Paris, Vienna, Rome, Prague…they all lined up for a smile or a dance—or something far more satisfying—with the handsome, rich, and powerful Norringford. Widows, harlots, and even bold married women (and occasionally a virginal unmarried one) offered to “meet” him for a “walk” or a “ride in a carriage.”

And if he happened upon one of the more stand-offish type—a female with fair, creamy skin, lush curves, but also a demure attitude—he simply turned on his charm, lit up his eyeglow, and enthralled her into his arms, beneath his fangs….

Then into his bed.

The problem with one Captain Arial Bonny was that none of the above had any affect on her. Including—unbelievably,inconceivably—his vampiric thrall.

He didn’t understand it. He’d never failed at coaxing or enthralling someone before. Certainly not a woman!

And it wasn’t as if this pirate captain was immune to the special sort of hypnosis used by the vampires—for by her own admission, Arial had felt the effects of the thrall by at least two of Raine’s Draculia peers.

It seemed onlyhewas unaccountably, strangely ineffective as a vampire around her. The very thought made his fangs spring out fiercely in frustration. It had been three nights sincehe’d been forced to hide down here once breaking out of the ship’s brig after being unjustly imprisoned, and Raine was out of patience with the entire situation.

The Dracule did not hide. (Except from the sun; and even then, each had a different tolerance to the burning light.)

He was done with the cold and damp and loneliness—and blast it, he hadn’t fed in days. Sampling two of the rats didnotcount.

Raine shuddered at the memory.

He was ready to throw what little caution he possessed to the wind and take himself above deck…when suddenly he felt the slightest shift in the air. And he smelled someone approaching.

Such was the blessing—and the curse—of a Dracule, for the ability to smell and discern an infinite variety of aromas superseded even that of their other, just as powerful senses.

In this case, Raine definitely considered it a blessing, for the scent overriding that of brackish water and damp rodent leavings was a waft of sweet, lushwoman: fresh, tinged with sea air and night time…and beneath it all, something feral and untamed—but definitely, wholly,deliciouslyfemale.

He caught his breath and drew in the perfume of the tantalizing pirate captain, almost forgetting to wonder what in the devil she was doing down here in the cargo hold.

Almost.

Watching and waiting, Raine edged into the shadows, aided by his ability to see quite well in the dark. Everything was frosted with a strange greenish hue, but he could see nearly as well as in the light—though he didn’t really need to, for his sense of smell and the bare shift of the air told him exactly where she was and how she was moving.

And that she was alone. Without a light.

In the bowels of the ship?

What the bloody hell was she?—

“I figured I’d allowed you to stew down here long enough, St. Albans.”

Raine smothered a laugh and stepped out of the shadows. “It is rather damp, and my only choice of sustenance was quite lacking any sense of refinement.”

He looked down at her—partly because the ceiling was too low for him to hold his head upright—and saw that she was dressed in her normal pirate captain attire: loose brown breeches tucked into tall boots, a billowy white shirt that tied at the throat, and leather straps criss-crossing over her torso then buckling at the waist to hold various weapons and accoutrements.

Arial’s hair was in a long, loose braid, and though he was looking at her through the greenish tinge of his night vision, he could still pick out some of the different shades of color: black, nut-brown, amber, and a streak of white. She barely reached to his shoulder, and though she was slender and small-boned, he knew she was stronger and quicker than she appeared.

The intriguing woman looked up at him with bright, dark eyes that, he realized, could see him just as well as he could see her even in the darkness.Of course.Her kind wouldn’t need a lantern any more than his did.

He folded his arms over his middle and leaned against one of the support beams so he didn’t have to hold his head at an uncomfortable angle. “So you knew I was here? The whole time?”

“Where else would you be?”