Cassandra’s eyes dragged open, adjusting to the slice of murky moonlight swaying with the cabin. She’d only been asleep for a few hours, if the pitch-dark sky outside was any indication.
She attempted to sit up, but the hefty arm banded around her waist held her in place. Tristan’s deep, plosive breathing tickled the back of her neck.
Something was scraping outside the door.
The unsettling, unnatural noise turned her thoughts to the sleeping souls on board, oblivious to the lurking danger.
She held her breath as it faded.
Tristan’s peaceful face was cloaked in slumber, and she didn’t have the heart to wake him. Didn’t really want to wake him since she’d felt so utterlyuselessthis past week. She was itching todosomething. To prove she didn’t need Tristan to fight all her battles. And if she could save some helpless passengers in the process, even better.
She strangled the small voice in her head begging her to take advantage of the muscled mass of killing power warming her bed. The ship wasn’t that big, she assured the voice. She’d be able to run back and wake him if needed.
Slowly easing out from underneath Tristan’s heavy arm, she scooted off the bed and tugged on her pants. She didn’t put on her boots, wanted to be able to tip-toe as silently as possible. She grabbed Tristan’s Typhon steel dagger from its holster on the floor—her weapon of choice. The black whorls on the blade swallowed the glinting light.
She pressed her ear against the cool door, listening for any lingering sounds. Nothing. She eased the door open and, with one final glance at the slumbering Fae warrior, crept across the threshold.
Darkness enveloped her and she paused, her heart ratcheting into a tumultuous beat as her overactive mind pictured the monsters awaiting her.
The corridor was empty.
Cassandra flipped the dagger and gripped her pendant. The warm, gold sphere was a familiar comfort in her palm, calling to mind her father’s crinkled blue-gray eyes and emphatic instructions.
Blade up, fear down.
Bracing the weapon in front of her, she crept down the hall. Soft sighs and phlegmatic snores seeped through the thin doors along her route.
As she approached the end of the hallway, a silvery glow tinged the outer edges of her vision. She rounded a corner and peeked through a circular window set inside a swinging door.
The dining hall’s wall of windows illuminated the vacant tabletops, and a rustling, metallic banging rang out from the food stall in the corner.
A dark form billowed up from behind the counter, and two wings unfurled in the darkness. Cassandra couldn’t yet tell if they were flesh or feathers.
A kernel of fire bloomed to life in the Fae’s palm, then flared into a flaming jet. The Fae burned an unfamiliar symbol into the wall—a circle bisected by a vertical line—then summoned the wind to spread the flames.
Adrenaline poured a frosty blaze through Cassandra’s veins. As if Maksym’s lightning magic weren’t bad enough, now Fae hadfiremagic?
Visions of sleeping passengers burning alive in their beds unspooled far too realistically in Cassandra’s mind.
So she steeled her spine, gripped the dagger tighter, and pushed through the swinging door.
* * *
Gentle fingers walkeddown Tristan’s torso, making his breath catch as they coasted across his ticklish spot, that muscled dip next to his hip bone.
A low, breathy chuckle caressed his neck before pillowy lips pressed soft kisses along his collarbone, and a hand closed around his rapidly hardening cock.
He woke with a jolt, the scent of honey and rosewood coating his nostrils. He clenched his arm, intending to nuzzle into the very real woman who’d inspired his dream before realizing the bed next to him was empty.
Though still warm.
He scented smoke on the air, and fear prickled down his spine, stirring the downy feathers at his shoulder blades. He jumped out of bed, shrugged on his shirt, and reached for his belt.
His dagger was missing.
His fear froze into ice-cold shards that poked at his insides. Why would she take the dagger and not the stun pistol? Reckless little fool.
Though he wasn’t surprised she’d dashed into the night on her own, bravely defending innocents against any perceived threat.
