Author's Note: Warning for implied under age sex, it's not explicit but it is there. Hope you enjoy the start of Book 2! In case you're interested I listened to Low Key by Ally Brooke for Fallon's part and the Lone Ranger Finale sound track for Gandriel and Anelisse.

The single bottle of chardonnay had been a lie, a pretty fib wrapped up in silken mauve sheets and sprinkled with the alluring scent of violets and the feel of creamy soft, supple skin.

It'd been a rare riesling ice wine instead, hand-selected from the vineyards in the foothills surrounding the mountain passes leading out of Rask, an eight-hundred-year-old vintage that Lucien had only had the honor of sipping once at one of his father's banquets when the Lord of Autumn had managed to procure a single case for a visiting dignitary.

Somehow, Fallon had gotten her clever little hands on four bottles, no, five, he noted as he watched her pop the cork from another and drink generously from it. His head was swimming. And while indulged and gratified from their continuous romp his body was near collapsing.

Noticing his attention, she gave him a simpering smile, "I knew you missed me, Lucien."

Trouble, this female was absolutely nothing but trouble—

"A drink?"

He should say no, tell her that this was quite enough and they had matters of business to attend to—

"Of course." He took the bottle from her hands, swigging from the sweet liquor and savoring the melding flavors of plum, raspberry and honey . . . why in the Mother's name was he even drinking?

Her eyes sparkled in amusement as she watched him, the smooth dips and curves of her body illuminated in the flickering candlelight. Calling her a temptress didn't even begin to describe her.

"Now," he watched as she slid onto the bed next to him, trailing her fingers down the panes of his chest, sending sparks of electricity dancing through him, "where were we?"

He needed to resist the temptation, to ignore her fiery, inescapable allure, those full, peaked breasts—focus, he had to focus on the actual matters at hand—

"The papers, Fallon." He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked locks, his face equally drenched . . . how long had they been at this? "We were to discuss the papers you acquired."

A sour look crossed her face as she lowered the wine bottle, her lovely nose scrunching as she righted herself on the bed.

"Right."

She rose and snatched a pile of documents from her mahogany desk, briefly flipping through them before sauntering back and dropping them unceremoniously onto Lucien's bare chest.

"All the information you could ask for." Resting her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at the pages. "Ah, except a few, Vaerek's been making copies." He tried to keep his face neutral at the mention of her father. "A moment."

She quickly strode across the room to the door and pried the heavy wood open. A cool breeze snaked in, saturated with the scent of the sea as she shouted.

"Vaerek!"

She peeked her head out, auburn tresses suspiciously askew, "Bring me the rest of the ledgers!"

Horror leached through Lucien as he realized she was stark naked in the doorway and he was drunk and draped across her bed like some fur rug. He clumsily fumbled for the blanket, his reflexes slowed from the excessive amounts of wine. Dragging it over his bottom half, he found himself tempted to scramble from the bed and into the closet.

That was, if he could stay upright long enough to stumble over to the overfilled monstrosity and acquire a proper hiding spot.

He hadn't spotted Vaerek when he'd boarded the Siren, thinking the human male was tending to other errands on the continent, not sleeping down the hall from where'd they'd been, loudly, having sex.

He hadn't even had the wisdom to try and detect him, too caught up in Fallon as she dragged him below deck, her hips a soft sashay as she lured him into her chambers.

Her father had never forgiven Lucien for his and Fallon's first encounter just over a decade ago. How was he supposed to know she'd lied about her age? Disbelief had coiled in his gut at his stupidity for falling for her little game then.

That clever eyed little vixen who'd cornered him at an ambassador's meeting and lured him into bed with her-

"Fallon," he hissed, golden eye whirring as he heard the light scuffing of boots approaching, the footfalls nearly as light as any fae, "decency!" She shot a brow up at him, her assets on full display. "You're naked."

She looked down at herself as though she'd completely forgotten her state of undress.

"Ah, I am." A smirk. "I assume you'd like me to remedy this?"

"It would be preferred! Especially since you didn't bother to mention he's here!"

She gave him a knowing, mischievous look. Vexation filled him as he narrowed his eyes.

The look that meant she was about to give him hell.

He ground his teeth.

Slipping back into the cabin she began to rummage through their pile of garments for something to cover herself with. Lucien was about to think she'd do as she was asked when she procured his jade doublet from the floor. She slipped into it, wrapping the mass around her, long legs and freckled shoulders still visible. "Better?"

Not better. Not remotely an improvement.

Vaerek knew that particular piece of clothing, the same one he'd worn the night she'd claimed him and that he'd been conned into wearing every time he'd seen her since.

He was far too inebriated to spar, to even dodge the swift blows he suspected the first mate would throw at him. Too naked.

Twenty steps.

He should have sent Bron.

Not that it mattered any longer, his presence here was no secret now.

Ten.

Lucien couldn't hide the shame as he dove under the covers, hoping the human male wouldn't venture beyond the doorway. The sound of Tamlin's laugh echoed in his mind, the laugh that had chased him aboard the Siren as he'd bid Spring Court farewell.

He'd postponed this meeting for months specifically for this reason, having left Fallon to direct most of the funds and efforts herself until he was absolutely needed-

"Here," he heard Vaerek gripe at Fallon, his deep voice rough, "anything else?"

"Nope, this is perfect. Thanks!"

A heavy, awkward pause, then the slow retreat of footsteps.

Lucien felt himself deflate, perhaps he could winnow from the ship to avoid any confrontation. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd teleported himself out of a questionable situation, favoring the humiliation of arriving at the manor naked to the encounter he was about to face.

Tamlin would laugh himself hoarse but it would be preferable to this.

A pause.

"I know you're in that bed, Lucien." A snort. "At least have the balls to look me in the eye and not cower beneath the sheets."

Ouch.

Fallon barked a laugh, the sound high and trilling. He pulled the covers tighter over himself and groaned, rubbing his aching head. He hated her.

The night air hung heavy with moisture as the chilling breeze foretelling the end of summer danced around them. The leaves on the trees were a crisp green and the stars flickered above them in a thick blanket of darkness.

It would have been serene, nearly romantic had it not been for the shouts of angry men echoing behind them as they raced through the wooded underbrush, arrows whizzing overhead.

Cursing, Gandriel dug his heels into Beau's side, driving the horse faster as he threw up as wall of hard air, deflecting the array of projectiles flying towards them.

"I thought you said you had it under control!"

"It was under control!" Anelisse hissed as she jostled in front of him, the elaborate hairpins in her curls digging painfully into his chest as she turned to peer behind them, only to immediately wheel in her seat to avoid a soaring arrow that nearly nicked her nose. "It was fine until your bossy fae bullshit felt the need to intervene!"

"He was going to kill you!" Gandriel snarled, veering Beau towards the left, deeper into the wooded path, down the rocky slope— "Forgive me for not wanting you to be murdered!"

The horse took the array of rocks quickly, sliding and stumbling as they fled the slavers behind them, their own mounts skidding down after them. Celeste was going to be absolutely pissed. Hadn't she told them to, under no circumstances, do this?

It was supposed to be a nice little stroll through the woods, some convincing acting, a little sleight of hand-

"I was fully intending to slit his throat!" Anelisse slammed her fist into his leg, irritation marring her features before she squeaked and clung to his arm as they plummeted down a particularly steep outcrop, Beau snorting his fear beneath them.

Gandriel was going to have to apologize to the poor animal after this, perhaps purchase him another large bag of sweet feed and pressed sugar cubes for his trouble-

An arrow embedded itself into the tree right next to Gandriel's head.

"¡Mierda!"

The slavers had been about to slice Anelisse to bits when he'd finally entered the warehouse to intervene, his instincts driving him to find her. He should have never agreed to let her seduce her way into an auction of all places, dressed in that ridiculous white getup that barely covered her.

He going to kill Ithaca for giving her ideas.

And Celeste was going to kill him for letting her even attempt it.

The blonde had been spewing since he'd thrown her over a shoulder and fled, slamming the building down on the bulk of the slavers during their escape with his storm magic. The few that remained were now tailing them.

This was meant to be a reconnaissance mission only, to snag a few stragglers and interrogate them about the new, changing routes.

Not to wipe out an entire nest of them.

"Keep Beau steady!" He felt Anelisse fish around in her dress, her hands tugging at her bodice and in her brassiere-

"Now really isn't the time to be adjusting your ladies," he hissed as he tried to keep them both in the saddle, their bodies bouncing as they came crashing down the steep incline. He'd ridden horses all his life, trained by the best riders Montessere had to offer.

But they hadn't trained him for this, for fleeing. No, it'd been nice gentle trail rides with lovely views atop surefooted fae steeds, not a downward plummet to the forest floor, completely at the mercy of a round, well-fed farm horse.

They bounced as they hit the bottom, Beau reeling off to the right, headed for the rendezvous point. That was if they could get there before the men tailing them caught up-

"You're an imbecile," she shot back, pulling what appeared to be a small vial free in her hands as she glanced behind them. "I'd throw up a wall of wind if I were you."

"Anelisse—"

She threw the vial. He watched it soar overhead before it disappeared out of sight. He rallied his magic, diving deep before snapping a thick wall of air into place behind them as a cascade of flames flared wide, the heat scorching the hair on his neck.

"Holy Mother," he gaped at the small blonde as Beau snorted and raced faster, fleeing the growing heat behind him. "What in the actual fiery pits of hell was that?!"

"A new concoction I've been working on," she shouted over the din, her lips puckered in irritation as she glared at the flames behind her. "Blast it all! It's not as powerful as I'd hoped!"

"Not as powerful?" He looked behind him in bewilderment, the trees aflame as the riders tailing them cursed and maneuvered to find another path.

Inconceivable. He knew she had been working on other things at that painting stall of hers besides spying and painting painfully awkward nude portraits of men. He hadn't realized she'd picked up a hobby in explosives.

The pursuing men had found a way around, quite efficiently Gandriel internally grumbled, as he heard them gaining on them, their shouts of fury resounding throughout the wood.

Anelisse scowled.

"I'd ask you to strike them with lightning, but we know how well that went last time."

He flinched.

Celeste's hair had stood on end for an entire week. She'd never let him practice near anything metal again.

"We're almost to the hollow," he nudged Beau once more, willing the gelding forward-two bags of sweet feed and some apples too- "we've only got to stay ahead awhile longer."

"Perhaps we'd move faster if we lost some weight." A conspicuous nod at Gandriel. The male squawked his offense.

"I'm not the one who's been gorging myself on pastries!"

"Perhaps its all that arrogance that's bouncing around that head of yours—"

Gandriel felt the air pressure change as they swept into the hollow valley, his magic tinging as the sigils he'd drawn before his departure flared to life. With a loud crack, the boulders shouldering the valley came tumbling free in a torrent. The slavers cried their surprise as they raced to avoid the fatal falling rocks. Gandriel yanked at Beau's reins sending the horse into a skid as he came to a shuddering stop.

The boulders stopped with a rumble, a cloud of loose dust rising in their wake, barricading all escape from the dead end.

Atleast he'd gotten them here. Even if it was about a dozen more than originally planned.

Whipping Beau around, Gandriel tugged Anelisse close to him, releasing the blade from his scabbard. Twenty men still stood before him, furious as they raised their weapons in turn.

Well, it was better than the initial fifty or so they'd started with.

"Gentlemen," Gandriel cooed with a smile, allowing that arrogant façade he'd mockingly perfected over years to roll into place, "it's been a delight, but I must bid thee farewell." He bowed briefly before a bow twanged and a single arrow struck the ground before the men, sizzling.

"What is this nonsense, boy?" A laugh from one of the men who gave a smile filled with gaps, his dirty face creasing with amusement, "You're going to pay, you and that little whore—"

The fuse connected to the arrow and attached vial burned low before exploding with a loud pop, sending a screen of smoke billowing in all directions. Shouts of alarm rose from the slavers as they scrambled to see in the murk.

The trees creaked as a horde of masked men dressed in black dropped from the overhanging oaks, the sounds of blades clashing through the woods as the skirmish ended before it even began.

A figure in black leather materialized from smoke, like a wraith of shadow, a long blade loose in her hand as she stormed towards Gandriel. The male flinched as he watched Celeste peel off her mask, violet eyes burning in irritation as she flicked blood from her blade.

Her narrow, thin face had filled out in the months since taking her Captainship, her thin waist and legs now lean with muscle and womanly appeal.

And deadly strength.

Gandriel half considered tossing Anelisse in front of him to buy him some time to flee up the cliffsides, and since he still hadn't perfected winnowing-

"What the hell did you two do?"

"Uh . . . improvised?"

He almost slapped a hand over Anelisse's mouth. Wrong answer—

A growl.

"How much attention did you attract?"

"Just a little—" It really hadn't been that much—

"Gandriel brought the building down around their heads."

"YOU threw a bomb at them and caught half the woods on fire!"

"it wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't intervened—"

"Because you thought seducing the sadistic bastard was a BRILLIANT idea—"

"I had him where I wanted him, a minute more and he would have been dead—"

"You did what?" Celeste's voice cut into the argument, her eyes locking on Anelisse. The blonde puffed her cheeks in agitation.

"I had it under control."

"Obviously not." No room for argument.

Celeste turned that razor-sharp glare back to Gandriel, sending shivers up his spine.

"Who?"

"Dermot's first mate," Celeste snapped her attention back to Anelisse, "he had the information on the changed trade routes, since his Captain's taken the lead on this whole fiasco."

Celeste crossed her arms over her chest as she looked between them, agitation written across that beautiful face before her shoulders slumped and she blew out a breath.

"Did you get any information?"

Gandriel sheepishly shook his head, he'd been too busy fighting and trying to keep himself and Anelisse alive.

"Of course not." She sheathed her blade down her spine, tugging down her hood and releasing her thick braid. "Did you at least get Eoin out?"

Oops. Gandriel had completely forgotten about the young fisherman-turned-scout who'd gone as bait so they could gain access to the auction—

Celeste groaned again, rubbing her temples with gloved fingers.

"We need to go back and grab him." No doubt the slippery young man was still alive, having either sweet talked his way into getting loose or having escaped on his own. He had been surprisingly convincingly dressed as a woman when he'd dragged him into that auction, fluttering his eyelashes and all—

"At least you got some of them here."

Celeste whistled over a shoulder towards her crew behind her, the men having subdued the remaining slavers. "Leave them alive for questioning," an assessing stare at the remaining ones before she gave a wicked grin, "Any that don't talk are to be left for me."

She pulled a knife free from her belt, playing with the razor-sharp blade as the bound men paled.

"And you," She pointed the knife at Gandriel and Anelisse, "You're both on latrine duty until I say otherwise."

The thought had Gandriel gagging, of all the nasty things Celeste wanted to punish him with. He would have rather been put on runner duty, cooking, anything except cleaning out the nasty buckets on the Loreley—

Anelisse elbowed him harshly in the stomach. "This is all your fault."

They'd found Eoin easily enough, sitting on a barrel drinking ale with a set of guards telling lewd stories with his skirt hiked up to his hip, hairy legs on display. He had indeed made friends with the men who'd been watching him and the other slaves, a couple of young, poor boys who were only looking to make a copper. He'd somehow managed to convince them to let the captive young women go.

They'd quickly taken to Eoin's kind, infectious personality and even faster to Celeste's offer of a paycheck.

It was amazing what a few underhanded threats and some silver could do for her. She'd bought out nearly a hundred underlings of the slave trade alone into working for her. Most of them had become reliable, loyal spies.

There had been a handful they'd had to dispose of, but, on the whole, they'd been useful. Especially since she never let any of them see her face so they never knew where she might be lurking, watching their every movement.

A little fear never hurt anyone.

The dreaded and renowned flower of the sea, Captain Lily, Fallon had mockingly called her, laughing as they'd shared a bottle of wine the last time they'd met.

She'd taken the alias on after her little lie to Rufus and decided it would serve its purpose in keeping her real identify hidden.

Not that Gandriel or Anelisse had bothered with such lies, shrugging their shoulders when asked and questioning to why they should bother. Celeste hadn't even tried arguing about it.

Ascending the stairs to their new, larger shared apartment, Celeste nearly stopped and turned back when the first loud, pleasured moan echoed from Anelisse's bedroom. Warm, disgusting, fresh scents wafted on evening breeze from the open window.

Well, she and Gandriel had certainly beaten her back here.

When had that even become a thing between them?

One day they'd been sniping at each other and the next Gandriel had his face, and other bits, buried deep inside her, worshipping the very ground her sister walked on.

Celeste had inquired about the situation one afternoon shortly after she'd caught them . . . fornicating in her bed on the Loreley. Anelisse had laughed and given the simple response of, "He's wonderful when he's using his mouth for things other than talking."

Celeste had left it alone at that.

A growling bark of pleasure from Gandriel rang out in the night. Couldn't they at least shut the window, pretend they weren't sharing more than just a few choice words? She could head back to the market, find herself something for dinner, a nice inn to stay at—

Celeste sighed. She was too tired to trek back, and frankly she wanted her own bed and bath tonight. If they got too bad, she'd sic Ithaca on them.

Speaking of said woman, Celeste caught sight of her as she opened the door to the apartment, poised on the couch reading a yellowed text. The dark-tressed woman looked all the world like a queen holding court, oblivious to the racket in the room down the hallway.

"Oh look," Celeste knocked her boots against the door, freeing them of the caked mud, "you're here."

Ithaca glanced up from the ancient book in her lap, onyx eyes narrowing. "You did say I was permitted to enter as long as I did not bother anything."

"I did." She'd felt sorry for the woman after the third week of her lurking on the doorstep, hoping inviting her in and making peace might send her on way. It'd had the opposite effect, she'd instead made herself quite at home. "I'm just surprised to see you here with them." She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder at the bedroom.

"Sex is as natural to breathing to me," she smoothed a black curl behind an ear, "it serves as background noise while I read."

Celeste didn't bother to mention it certainly wasn't her background noise of choice.

"How did the hunting go?"

"Terribly. Gandriel's an invalid and Anelisse can't keep it in her pants." She nodded toward the noisy room. She flopped down on the couch next to the woman, stretching her feet out and extending her arms high above her head. "We got the information we needed, burnt down half of Green Hollow in the process though, they should probably call it Black Hollow now."

"The hellfire recipe worked then. Interesting,"

Celeste sent Ithaca a skeptical look. The woman only smirked, rolling her narrow shoulders.

"Your sister was experimenting, I only gave her a little guidance."

"At what price?" Celeste leaned forward, reaching for the invisible tether inside of her. Ithaca had been angling to make a bargain since she'd bound her, and she'd had to send a series of orders down the chain to prevent her from finding a loophole.

"Consider it a sign of goodwill." A gleaming smile.

Ah, so that was the game she was playing this evening.

"I'm still not letting you go." Celeste rose from the couch, ignoring the hiss that tore from the sharp-featured woman and echoed throughout the apartment as she made for the kitchen, "I'll give you credit for the effort though."

"If don't remove this vile charm from me, girl—"

"You'll sit on my couch and complain until Hell freezes over? Be my guest."

"You must find yourself so amusing with your witty remarks."

A shrug.

"Fine," Ithaca snarled and turned back to her book, "Do as you wish."

"I was intending to."

Celeste slipped into the kitchen and began rummaging through the chilled-box Gandriel bought to keep food from spoiling, not that there was much food to be found. A few half-rotted apples and a stale piece of bread.

They'd only been back in Marchedor for a few days, compiling information from informants before venturing back out to sea to meet with Fallon to deliver the new trade information. She'd decided to postpone the meeting until Fallon's unnamed guest departed, some male that she'd gotten the impression that her fellow captain was sweet on.

Celeste had dealt with enough copulation from her sister and first mate, she didn't need to witness the sea captain in action too. Another, higher, more delighted squeal echoed throughout the apartment. She shoved the empty ice box closed.

She was getting dinner in the market.