Page 42 of The Wolf

When would Scarlet have another opportunity to affect this much change? Cause as much damage to her stepmother’s cruel reign on the province, and the country at large?

She didn’t really know what she was doing, moving on well-honed, silent instinct as she wound her way through corridors and down tiny, steep staircases until she reached the bowels of the ship, where the main cargo hold was located. True to expectations, the hold was roughly half full of casks of explosive powder.

Scarlet made her way around the casks to find the best one to set alight so she’d have enough time to escape out of the window in the process. She glanced behind the closed door. Many casks had been taken out already, if the clamor up on deck was anything to go by. Which meant there were more than these, so many more.

Scarlet had to get rid of as many of them as she could.

Finally satisfied with her choice of barrel, she pulled out a pack of matches from her cloak, getting ready to light one, when she heard two voices.

They were getting louder. Then the door swung open.

Scarlet didn’t have time to think. She pocketed her matches, bent down low, and wound back through the room to try and escape through the door the moment the voices that had entered the belly of the ship were far enough away from her.

But the hold was dark, and Scarlet was only human. She did not see the full scope of the space and before she could make a move to leave, someone grabbed her. A hand covered her mouth, smothering the scream she had been about to emit, and she was yanked against a warm, firm body, taller and broader than hers. Stronger than hers.

She reached for her blades as she recognized the earthy, masculine scent of him. She even recognized the way his breath staggered against her ear, desperate with desire.

It was Brine.

Fate was bloody cruel.

EIGHTEEN

BRINE

“Red?”

Brine couldn’t believe it. He had smelled her as soon as he entered the room, instinct forcing him to grab her and push her against him. Red was here. He washoldingher. He could feel her against his chest.

What the hell is she doing here?

She wriggled against him, struggling furiously and putting up a hell of a fight given their difference in size. Chesh was getting ready to set up the remote detonators that Pyre had made for them using one of his many mysterious tricks. Brine had only entered the hold to doublecheck the fuses he’d placed on the ship minutes before. He and Red didn’t have much time to vacate. One minute, maybe two.

Maybe less.

But Brine could hardly think of explosives or ships or mutiny when his nose was full of ginger and peaches, the smell of sunshine and the wind blowing through blond hair. Even though Red was currently soaked in days-old sweat, her hair scraped back against her head and full of grime. What had she been doing?

“Red, stop struggling,” he ordered in hushed tones, growing ever more frantic by the second. They had so little time. But when she bit his hand, Brine found himself barely able to suppress a smile. “If I pull my hand away, will you be quiet?” he asked quietly. There was an interminably long pause before she nodded. And so Brine took his hand away, his grip loosening just enough for Red to turn around and face him when it was clear she was keeping her word to remain quiet.

There was no light in the bowels of the ship, but Brine had wolf eyes. Through the darkness he could see Red, and he could see through the sweat and grime she was currently layered in too. He eagerly drank her in as if she were the most wondrous, beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Because she was.

And that was a mistake. Brine had lowered his defenses around her once more, and once again the woman pulled something out of her cloak and blew it into Brine’s face. This time, however, he did not breathe in deeply, and tilted his head to the side to try to avoid the worst of it. But some of the bitter powder nonetheless made it up his nose, spreading an overwhelming dizziness through his body.

Red made a run for it, making for a window even as Brine grabbed her wrist by instinct and bowled her up the stairs with him before his body could give out. Her struggles were much stronger now that the drugs were in his system, but Brine persisted. Regardless of what she’d been doing on the ship, Red surely could not know that the entire thing was rigged to blow. Under no uncertain circumstances was Brine going to allow her to die, even if she’d tried to flee and knock him unconscious twice now.

As he ascended the stairs, Brine thanked the stars that there were no other people around to witness their escape.

“Where are you—let me go,” Red demanded through gritted teeth. Given that she was remaining quiet, Brine established that she was not, in fact, a welcome member of the ship’s crew. She was a stowaway, or a spy. He resolved to get all the answers he sought from the mysterious woman the moment they were free from danger.

A loud explosion went off from down below, followed by a terrible tremor vibrating through the entire ship that almost knocked Brine and Red both off their feet.

“Bloody hell!” Red cried, no longer attempting to remain quiet over the sound of screams and shouts and, above all, more explosions. The air was thick with acrid, burning smoke, mixing with the drugs filling Brine’s system until his brain and body felt too heavy to use.

Push through it.

“Hold your breath,” he slurred out, knowing they had run out of time. Red twisted her head up to stare —blue eyes wide —at him.

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