Page 9 of Immortal Pirates

“I don’t knowhowto block your thrall, St. Albans. I simplydoit.”

This appeared to give him even more of a start. “Indeed. Apparently, then, I am the first Dracule you’ve encountered.”

“I didn’t say that. I’ve actually met Corvindale several times. His ability to enthrall me was not in question, unfortunately,” she said ruefully. “However,hewas a gentleman. I came away unscathed. Unlike when I encountered Lord Dewhurst.”

“Corvindale, a gentleman?” St. Albans laughed, but there was an edge to the sound. He wasn’t enjoying himself; he seemed unsettled. “So you are sayingIcannot enthrall you.”

“Apparently that’s the case. Now, what is this fascinating thing called an…Asthenia? An aversion, you say?”

But St. Albans merely stared at her as if attempting to translate a strange language. “I thought it might be because…because of who you are.”

Arial bit back a smile. He was flummoxed and offended, and she was again reminded of a young boy who’d been denied something he expected. “Perhaps you’re losing your touch, Lord Norringford.”

Irritation flashed in his eyes and he moved closer. He fixed his attention on her, and she felt that soft, warm tug that made her feel as if she were swimming in a deep, tropical pool. He reached up and brushed the back of his hand along the edge of her chin, caressing her as he held her with his gaze.

His aristocratic nostrils flared as he drew in a scent, and she saw the glow in his eyes brighten, becoming orange-red and hot.

“I can smell it on you,” he murmured. “The blood from your meal. It makes you all the more alluring to me, Arial Bonny.”

“That’sCaptainBonny,” she managed to say, though her tongue felt thick and her insides were a hot mix of liquid and fluttering sensations. He was close, and the combination of hisscent and figure and the warmth of his proximity made her heart thud harder.

She wished she could blame it on his thrall, but she couldn’t. It was all her.

When he bent his head to cover her lips, she met him halfway. He groaned when he tasted her—a deep, feral sigh from the back of his throat.

And, Lord, he was delicious: warm and slick and sensual. She felt him shiver beneath the hand that had somehow become pressed against his chest, felt the deep, base tremor in her own body as she took his tongue inside in a sweeping, tangling dance with hers. She was lightheaded as their breaths mingled, as his arms tightened around her. She felt the length of his fangs, harmless for now, but a warning of who he was and what he could take from her.

But it was even more than that. She knew he could take much more than merely her blood, or even her life.

He could take her heart.

Arial pulled her lips away, and he followed, kissing the side of her mouth, then along her chin and down onto her throat with those sensual lips, and the smooth, hard reminder of his fangs.

“St. Albans,” she sighed, arching into him a little even as she fought to regain her footing—for she had somehow climbed up onto his boots again.

“Arial,” he murmured. “Let me taste you. Please…I need to taste you.” He was nibbling, sucking at the pulsing tendon of her throat, and his breath was rasping against her skin, his fingers curling into her spine and the back of her head.

A shaft of fear darted through her: he was strong, so strong, and in her human form, she was weak by comparison. The pressure from the outside of his fangs sliding against her skin made her eyes bolt wide.

“No,” she said, putting her hands on his chest and pushing him back. “No.”

To her relief, he moved, released her, stepped away. He was breathing hard and his eyes were bright, fiery red. His upper fangs were long and sharp, filling his mouth and causing his full lips to appear distorted.

They stared at each other for a moment, chests heaving a little, pulses pounding in their respective throats. She couldfeelhis, even though she couldn’t see it. A remnant from her night hawk form.

“Are you…do you…” Her mouth was surprisingly dry after such a sleek, glorious kiss. “Do you need to…uh…”

He cracked a sudden smile, and she saw his fangs ease. The glow evaporated from his eyes. “Do I need to feed? Is that what you wanted to know? No, my lovely captain. I’ve no real urge or need to feed. It was all you, Arial. I wantyou.”

She swallowed, suddenly lightheaded again. She needed to fly, to get away from this, to clear her head and go high and broad above the sea. And suddenly, with a start, she remembered.

“I found theDevil’s Target,” she said, taking care to keep distance between them. Not because she didn’t trust him, but because it was herself she didn’t trust. After all, she’d climbed onto his boots to get closer.

Though a soft, lustful light remained in the depths of his eyes, the expression in them sharpened. “How far away?”

“At least a day.” When he frowned, she continued firmly, “She’s a fast ship, and Captain Ajam knows the sea as well as I do. And there’s a storm brewing. Do you smell it?”

He sniffed, then shook his head and fixed his eyes on her once more. “All I can smell at the moment is you.” He held her with that look, but when she broke away he merely shook his head and sighed. “Somehow you’re immune to my charms.”