The Stormrider groaned beneath the weight of the storm, the sky boiling with fury. The ghost ship The Siren's Vengeance loomed behind them, her ethereal sails shimmering like a phantom's veil. Lightning split the clouds, casting both ships in a brief, blinding flash of white.
Alistair Von Wolfenstein tasted blood in his mouth, his hand still gripping the wheel as the Stormrider lurched through the gale. His heart pounded harder than the rain on the deck.
The storm was a beast. But the storm within him? Worse.
Behind him, Seraphina Blackthorn's dark hair clung to her face, slick from the rain, her daggers gleaming like fangs as she watched the approaching ship with narrowed eyes. She was a woman of storms herself a dangerous mix of fire and ice.
And beside her, Isolde Greaves stood as still as a blade waiting to strike. Her coat, heavy with rain, hugged her figure, and her rapier shone silver in the stormlight. Alistair knew that, like Seraphina, Isolde was as deadly as she was beautiful but colder, a venomous kiss wrapped in silk.
And here they were three hearts caught between a storm of steel and a storm of longing.
The air between them crackled louder than the thunder.
"She's gaining on us, Captain!"
Rogan's voice broke through the tension, his one good eye fixed on the Siren's Vengeance as it closed the distance, too fast for a ship that should be weighed down by steel and history.
Alistair cursed under his breath. "She shouldn't be moving like that."
Seraphina's jaw tightened. "She's not bound by the same rules we are."
Isolde's hand hovered over the hilt of her sword. "She's a ghost."
Alistair's grin even in the face of death didn't fade. "Then let's give her something to haunt."
The Stormrider veered sharply, but the ghost ship followed, silent and unrelenting.
A shot of energy lanced from The Siren's Vengeance, missing their hull by inches. The blast of blue lightning cracked against the sky, sending a shockwave that rippled through the Stormrider.
Alistair staggered, catching himself against the railing and felt Seraphina's hand on his chest, steadying him.
"Don't get yourself killed, Captain," she whispered, her voice drowned out by the storm but close enough that he felt the words on his skin.
Their eyes locked a flash of heat in the rain, a spark in the storm.
Alistair swallowed hard. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Isolde, standing just a step away, watched and though her expression remained neutral, Alistair saw the flicker of something sharp behind her gaze.
Possession.
Or jealousy.
Maybe both.
The Captain's Quarters Hours Later…
The Stormrider had escaped for now the Siren's Vengeance slipping back into the storm like a phantom. But the danger hadn't passed.
Alistair stood in his quarters, a map of the Iron Tempest's rumored location spread across his desk. A half-empty bottle of rum lay beside it, forgotten.
He heard the door open softly behind him.
"Couldn't sleep, Captain?"
Seraphina's voice, low and smooth, slid through the air like smoke.
Alistair didn't turn. "Storms tend to do that to a man."
She stepped closer, her presence a heat against his back. "You're not afraid of storms."
He finally turned, his gaze meeting hers dark, unreadable, but smoldering beneath the surface. "No," he said, his voice softer now. "But I fear what comes after."
A flicker of something crossed Seraphina's face a crack in the armor.
Her fingers grazed the edge of the map on the table, but her focus was on him. "You think The Siren's Vengeance is gone for good?"
Alistair shook his head slowly. "Ghosts don't stop chasing you just because you run."
There was a beat of silence. The storm still rumbled faintly outside.
And then
Seraphina closed the distance between them.
Her lips brushed his soft, then harder, fiercer. A kiss of hunger and danger.
Alistair tasted fire and salt, the battle and the storm still clinging to her. He caught her waist, pulling her closer, his fingers digging into the wet leather of her coat.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was inevitable.
But before the kiss could ignite into something more
Another voice.
"Am I interrupting?"
Alistair pulled away sharply, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Isolde stood in the doorway, her coat unbuttoned just enough to show the curve of her collarbone, rain still dripping from her dark hair. But her eyes oh, those eyes burned like ice and flame.
The silence was louder than the storm outside.
Seraphina didn't step back.
And neither did Isolde.
Alistair cleared his throat, trying to break the suffocating tension. "Is this a social visit, Lady Greaves?"
Isolde's smile was a knife. "I came to discuss the map. But it seems you're… busy."
Seraphina's voice was smooth as silk. "We were finished."
Alistair felt the heat of both women standing so close Seraphina's fire and Isolde's ice.
And he realized something dangerous.
The storm outside wasn't the only one that could kill him.
The real danger was standing right in front of him with daggers for smiles and hearts like loaded pistols.