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Chapter 1

It all started with thunder, the baritone voice of the storm deepening as it roared across the waves towards the marina. As the rumbling grew and the ocean began to churn, the boats at the Key West piers strained and bucked at their lines like startled mares.

Beth Swann was thrown from her bunk and jolted painfully awake as her hip and shoulder connected with the floor. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the grogginess as she watched her belongings being tossed about the cabin. Gradually she came to understand what was turning the world on its head.

The suddenness of the gale was baffling. The seas had been calm all day as she and her crew had worked on the eighteenth century wreck they'd discovered. There hadn't been so much as a wisp of cloud to mar the bright blue vista, nor a murmur from the old salts on the docks that signaled troubling weather on the horizon.

Beth struggled upright. It didn't matter that it was unexpected; without quick action, the storm would likely tear her pilot house cruiser loose from its light moorings and batter the boat, the dock or both to pieces. Maybe it was payback from the excavation they'd been working on – the sea could be a right possessive bitch at times, not wanting to give up that which she'd already claimed for her own. Beth reached up to clasp the old ring that she'd found and hung on a delicate gold necklace around her neck. Perhaps the relic wasn't going to serve as much of a good luck piece…it had, after all, been found on a ship at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico. Not much good fortune there.

She shook her head again at the thought – it was ridiculous to wonder at such nonsense with everything crashing down around her. Clad in only a t-shirt and panties, Beth stumbled to the door, tugging it open onto a chaotic scene. Water poured down the steps over her bare feet as the violet-white lightning split the sky above, blinding her briefly as she made her way out onto the deck. She could hear the shouts from the other panicked live-aboards as they fought to save their vessels from the storm's fury. Driven by the cold rush of adrenaline, she hurried to retrieve the spring lines that would secure her own craft within its berth.

The Morgan LeFay was more than a boat – it was her home, the one thing that she could say truly belonged to her and no other. Her marine archaeology company, Swann Song Oceanic, subsisted on bank debt and prayer, but the cruiser was her baby. She had been an indulgence following the divorce from William, both the realization of a dream she'd had as long as she could remember and the symbol of a new beginning. She'd be damned if some freak hurricane was going to take Morgan from her.

Her long wet hair whipped across her face as she jumped to the pier and struggled to double the cables, the rain numbing her fingers and making arduous work of the knots at which she was normally adept. Beth snarled in frustration and willed her trembling fingers to finish the job.

The wood beneath her feet groaned and protested the battering of the waves, the boats moored on either side of hers creaking alarmingly against the force of the gale. Another flash of lightning caused her heart to slam against her ribs; through her feet, she could feel the vibrations of the thunder that followed almost instantly afterward.

A sudden wave lifted the bow of the Morgan LeFay and the line Beth was holding was yanked from her grasp, the coarseness of it shredding the skin on her palms as it went. She bit back a scream and tucked her hands beneath her arms to ease the burn, angry tears filling her eyes. Shaking her head to clear the water from her vision and heedless of the pain, she again grabbed hold of the line and tightly pulled it around one of the pilings. She repeated the task on the starboard side and continued on until her boat was held firm by no less than sixteen lines.

Shaking from nervous exhaustion, Beth hoped that her nautical home could safely weather the storm for a few hours and that the dock itself would hold together. She lurched her way to the ladder so she could climb aboard and take shelter from the biting winds and bone-chilling downpour. At that moment, though, the cruiser in the next berth broke free of its restraints and rose up with the churning crests.

Beth turned with a gasp and saw the looming silhouette of the ship just as it came down again with a roar, smashing some of the planks underneath it. She frantically grabbed at the ladder as she lost her foot hold and was able to grasp one of the rungs as the boards upon which she'd been standing fell away from beneath her.

She pulled herself further up the ladder and rested her forehead against the side of her beloved boat, trying to catch her breath and calm her heart. Enough was enough…time to batten down the hatches, hunker down in the cabin and ride it out as much as possible. Beth weakly pulled herself up, wondering how long it would take before she felt warm again.

Perhaps it was the cold, the unrelenting force of the rain or her own numbed thoughts, but she didn't even notice the hulking shape at the top of the ladder until she was about to embark. Large rough hands grabbed hold her wrists, pulling them away from the ladder. As she cried out in surprise, the attacker tugged her hard against his chest. He was dressed in a dark raincoat, the hood hanging down over his face to hide his identity.

"What, no man to die for you this time, whore?" he hissed at her, his fetid breath causing her stomach to turn. She twisted and tried to break his hold, but he squeezed hard and she could feel the bones in her wrist move over one another painfully. Beth bit down on her lip, her stubborn pride keeping her from crying out. What did he mean, no man to die for her?

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about! Get off of my boat, you bastard!" Beth ducked her head down and bit one of his hands as hard as she could. Warm blood flowed into her mouth and he roared with rage.

He let go of one of her wrists, but only long enough that he could backhand her across the face, drawing blood of his own. Had he not been holding her, she would have collapsed and fallen back down the ladder – as it was, he pulled her back against him and ducked his head to mutter in her ear.

"That was just a love tap, beautiful. You'll get a taste of real pain if you don't back off from that lovely ship you found wrecked in the Gulf." He jerked her so that her head fell back and he slowly licked the blood from her chin. "'Course, maybe you like pain. We could have a time, you n' me."

Beth closed her eyes and turned her head as far away as she could, trying to not gag. "I'll back off when I'm done my job. As for 'having a time,' as you put it – I try to keep my relationships within the same species, so you can go to hell."

The stranger laughed low in his throat. "Ladies first." He thrust her away suddenly, releasing her wrists. She frantically clawed the air but there was nothing there to grab, nothing to stop her from plummeting to the ruined dock below.

Christening the frame of the pier with the back of her head, Beth felt the jolting pain and then dizzying sickness. Her momentum carried her into the water and as the churning blackness swallowed her, the last tenuous thought she had was of how it felt as though the ocean was embracing her in its arms like a long-lost love.