Tethered (11 page)

Her pulse thrummed beneath his thumbs as he captured her hands behind her back, gently shackling her wrists with his fingers. He’d use only his tongue now, and show her—

Yasmeen’s body exploded into motion against his. She ripped out of his arms, her foot shoving into his chest—not hard, just enough to get away. Still, shock sent him tripping backward.

The same shock was reflected on her face. Crouching on the deck boards, Yasmeen stared at him, openmouthed. “I didn’t…” She swallowed hard. “Don’t restrain my hands.”

Oh, now
that
was pain. Anger came with it. “You don’t trust me?”

Her jaw tightened. “That’s not what I said.”

“I know. You said today, ‘I know you’d never hurt me,’” he mocked her accent. “I see how well you mean it.”

“You don’t see anything.” Her eyes narrowed, and she shifted her weight, as if preparing to pounce. Christ, his cock had never been this hard before. “You’re a goddamn fool right now.”

“
Your
fool.” He spat the words, and she laughed.
Laughed.

“And God help us,” she said—but didn’t pounce. Her attack was far more liquid than that, a sublime dance of muscle and stealth. He had but a moment to watch, her deadly beauty striking him speechless, motionless.

Then she was behind him, around him, dragging him down to the boards. Her knees pinned his arms; her weight across his stomach stole his breath. She leaned down, her incredible face directly over his.

“Archimedes.” She whispered his name and pressed her lips to his jaw. “Archimedes.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but she took it from him with a soft, searching kiss. His eyes burned. The ache that filled his chest was unbearable, but he wanted more of it, more of this. A kiss meant she loved him.

Loved
him.

God, and this was what he’d come back for. What he’d feared might have been destroyed. And he
had
been a fool—not to run, but to think that he would find what he needed anywhere but here.

He trembled, and she released his arms. He held her to him,
returning the kiss, deepening it. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat, her chest hitched, and then he was lost to the heat of her mouth, the taste of her skin, her shuddering cry as she took him in. Here was rage and sorrow, joy and fear. Despair…and love. She gave him everything.

And he would never get enough.

She couldn’t breathe.

She should have been able to. The hole at the top of her brass helmet let in air. But air wasn’t the problem—it was her chest. Her heart was giving out.

Ravenous growls filled her head. She chopped away at the zombies. The door was only a few feet away. Archimedes was trapped behind that rotten wood, bracing the entrance against the zombies’ attack. He just had to hold on. Only a few more were left, but she had to hack and hack and endlessly hack, and more were coming, and the wood…was cracking.

The sound splintered through her chest. The door shattered inward.

Her scream ripped like a knife from her gut to her throat. Staggering, she was hit from behind and then carried along as the zombies crowded, rushed through the door. She swung the machete, hacking, killing—but it didn’t matter, because she was dead now, too.

But…no. When she made it through the door, all would be right. She would look up and see Archimedes clinging to the rope, above the zombies’ reach—holding on, just as she’d told him to. Then sharp relief would wake her.

Except he wasn’t on the rope. And there was her heart, gone, gone, as the zombies surrounded him, tore at him, and he looked at her. There was nothing in his eyes. No love, no pain, nothing.

Her screams tore at her throat again, and she hacked, hacked. She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t bear it even in a dream, she had to wake up, had to wake—

Yasmeen opened her eyes, her heart racing. With shaking
hands, she reached for Archimedes, as she always did on waking from this nightmare.

He was gone.

She jolted up. Pain shot though her knees, still healing from the explosion that had destroyed her lady. Her relief at seeing Archimedes at the end of the bed only lasted a moment; sympathy took its place. Nude, he sat with his shoulders hunched and elbows braced on his thighs, his head in his hands. Despair and rejection traced every line of his body.

Ignoring the ache in her knees, Yasmeen slid toward him. His head came up, fingers wiping at his eyes. Throat suddenly raw, she slid her arms around his waist, lay her cheek against the back of his shoulder.

“Are you all right?”

“Not completely. But I will be,” he said, and she heard his smile in his voice, felt his determination in the long, shuddering breath that he drew. His palm cupped her left knee, fingers softly massaging the stiffness away. “And I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“A few times last night…I was rough with you.”

That was all? It was true, the instability of his emotions meant that they’d gone a few rounds before exhaustion had finally worn them down, but nothing had been said or done that needed an apology now. Yasmeen gently nipped his shoulder. “And we’ve never been rough before?”

“Never with anger. Not out of jealousy.”

“And I deliberately pushed you to both, knowing that you would squeeze every bit of emotion out of them. Wasn’t that what you wanted after the device stole that from you?”

His answer was a kiss pressed to her fingers, and a grin. “I’m squeezing out every bit of shame now.”

“So you are.” And without needing her to push him to it. Some emotions had been easier to find in him than others. “Are you truly jealous of Scarsdale?”

“No. But I was, once.” He moved his attentions to her right knee, fingers gently working. “I
am
envious of how much time he has spent with you, the years he’s been your friend—but I don’t begrudge him that time.”

“You have me now.”

“And I often feel like crowing that fact to everyone I see.”

So did she. Yasmeen smiled, held him closer. His fingers paused on her knee.

“And your reaction when I restrained your hands? That wasn’t deliberate. I scared you. I’m sorry for that, too. I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know, either,” she said. She’d been utterly shocked by her reaction.

Tension stiffened his shoulders. “I wasn’t myself.”

Oh.
He still thought she hadn’t trusted him because of the device’s effect on his emotions. Even if he were enraged beyond reason, she would put her life in his hands.

She had more difficulty risking
his
life.

“I trust you,” she said. “But I don’t trust anyone else. When you held my hands, I was terrified by the idea that someone could come into the cabin, and I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”

Though he was quiet for a long moment, his tension didn’t ease. “I would protect us both.”

“I know. But it wasn’t about
knowing.
It was more…instinctive.”

Archimedes smiled faintly, reached up to flick her tufted ear—the one ticklish spot she had. Damn him. She squirmed, refusing to voice a single giggle, and retaliated with the scrape of her claws across his chest.

He groaned. “Stop arousing me like that, woman. You’ve already squeezed me dry.”

So she had. She’d enjoyed every second of it.

But she hadn’t enjoyed everything that had happened the previous night. Her laugh ended on a sigh, and was echoed by Archimedes’. He was better, but trouble hadn’t left their home.

Archimedes hadn’t forgotten, either. “Where’s Bilson?”

“In the stateroom, recovering. He’s still unconscious.”

“Unconscious?” His brows rose. “How badly unconscious?”

“I broke his jaw. That put him out. Then I infected him with Anisa Stoker’s blood. He’s full of opium now. It ought to keep him down for another day.”

“And the device?”

Heaviness settled in her gut. “I didn’t find it.”

“And you can’t risk the crew looking for it.”

So he’d already realized the threat to her position. She’d planned to keep that knowledge from him, but he understood her ship too well now. “I’ll ask Vashon and Longcock to search for it, but to treat the search as an inspection. Anyone whose station or storeroom is out of order will receive scullery duties.”

Archimedes nodded, but didn’t appear hopeful. “It won’t be anywhere obvious.”

“No. But there are only so many places to hide it.”

“And if we don’t find it?”

“Then we fly to New Eden.”

“No.” He pulled away from her, stood. “You won’t risk your freedom and your ship for—”

“Don’t think to give me orders, Mr. Fox.”

Though softly said, she meant it. He knew it.

His mouth flattened. Frustration glittered in his eyes, a bit of anger—and something more. Fear? “How do you like it, Yasmeen, knowing that I’m your soft spot? That I’m your exposed belly, and that my friend is holding a knife to it?”

“Truthfully? I don’t like it at all.”

He froze. It was a long moment before he spoke again, his face rigid and voice hoarse. “Do you regret me?”

“Never.” It was a vow. Her gaze didn’t waver from his. “But I hate that I don’t know how to protect you, except by giving in to his demand.”

A grim smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “I hate that I don’t know how to protect you and your ship, except by giving in…or leaving.”

“Don’t leave. And I’ll protect myself and my lady. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Only if you don’t worry about protecting me.”

“I can’t.”

“Then don’t ask me to do the impossible, either.” He dragged his hand though his hair. “Christ. As it is, I am behind on the protecting. I have to save your life a few more times just to pull even. I ought to be hiring men to line up and shoot at you so that I can jump in front of the bullet—but God knows, you’d likely get to them first and snap their necks, and I’d end up paying the poor bastards to die.”

Despite herself, she had to laugh. He could be so wonderfully absurd.

He flashed a smile, then took a deep breath. “All right. We’re
not
giving in—we’re delaying while we look for the damned thing. We’ll find it, and that will be the end. Yes?”

“Yes,” she said, but in spite of his declaration, lines of worry formed on his brow. “Archimedes?”

“He always has a plan on standby.” He drew the statement out, as if thinking aloud. “But he didn’t try to stop me when I left the ship last night. You could have flown out of range—or I could have walked out of range, nullifying the threat. And he has to know we might find the device en route. No, this was to secure our attention or to serve as a distraction, and perhaps to keep us in line or to protect himself, but—”

By the dawning horror in his eyes, the answer struck him the same moment that Yasmeen realized it, too. They wouldn’t risk everything for Bilson’s brother. But for Archimedes’ sister…?

“Zenobia,” he whispered. “Dear God.”

His stunned immobility didn’t last long. Always ready for action, he started for the door. Yasmeen scrambled across the bed, found his yellow breeches amid the sheets and flung them in his direction.

He snagged them out of the air and stepped into the legs as he went. “I’ll wake the navigator.”

“The course to Fladstrand is already laid,” she reminded him, yanking her shirt over her head. Where were her boots? She needed five minutes to finish her letter to Scarsdale and send the express. “Tell Vashon to pull up our tether and push the engines to full steam. Archimedes?”

He paused at the door, looked back.

“What will it take for Bilson to break?”

“He won’t.” His gaze was flat. “And if it needs to be done, I’ll do it. But I’m not sure it will matter whether we find his breaking point. If he has Zenobia, he’s already found mine.”

And Yasmeen’s. Not just because she was Archimedes’ sister—the woman was her friend, too.

“Will he hurt her?”

“He wouldn’t have to. He just needs to send her to New Eden.”

Sweet heavens.
“Who would take her?”

“Someone who’d accept money to go, but who wasn’t good enough to get away.”

Goddammit. That smug bastard had all but told them how he would do it. She shook her head, saw the same anger on Archimedes’ face…and the same fear.

“We’ll get her back,” she told him. “We will.”

Grimly, he nodded. “Either that or I’ll die trying.”

Then they were definitely getting Zenobia back—because Yasmeen would kill everyone in their way before letting
that
happen.

*   *   *

It was late afternoon when
Lady Nergüi
flew into
Fladstrand. Yasmeen didn’t bother to stop at the harbor, but sailed through the town, stopping directly over Zenobia’s home.

Archimedes slid down the rope ladder first, with Yasmeen close behind. Zenobia’s orange three-level house stood between two identical buildings, all of them painted in bright colors. Though he didn’t visit as often as he’d have liked, Archimedes loved her home, loved watching her put on a display of irritation every time he shoved his loud and ridiculous life into her practical, quiet one.

Now dread weighed heavy in his chest as he let himself in. The house was cold, the air already stale. The express they’d sent the previous night lay unopened, untouched since being shoved beneath the door that morning. He found a note on her writing desk.

P. S.
Lady Lynx and the Damned Deceitful Dolt

Dolt? His sister was far better at ripping a man’s character apart than that banal insult suggested.

“They must have been rushing her,” he murmured. “Or she was terrified.”

Beside him, Yasmeen nodded, her mouth a flat line. “The maids are gone, too.”

More people to bring back—but he was glad Zenobia wasn’t alone. “We use codes in our letters, sometimes. She didn’t in this one, so she must not have known the name of the airship.”