Burning Up

belly bumping into his engorged shaft. Eben groaned, closing his eyes. “I’m a fool for saying that you can’t touch me until I return. Will you ease me then?”
    She wanted to now. “Yes.”
    “Sweet Ivy.” His big hands cupped her jaw, thumbs sweeping over her cheekbones. “I also said I’d only kiss you one time in return for the sous. But if I break my promise and kiss your lips before we sleep, will you forgive me?”
    “I won’t forgive you if you don’t kiss me.”
    Eben grinned as he lowered his head, and she was breathless by the time he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
     
    W hen the eighth bell of first watch rang, Ivy opened her eyes. Eben lay quiet beside her, his erection against her hip. Before he could speak, she covered his mouth with a kiss—then took him in hand and stroked until he came, awakening all of Vesuvius by shouting her name.

NINE
    Six Weeks Later . . .
     
    A utumn had already come to Anglesey; yellow and orange warmed the low, rolling hills in the distance. Eben had thought that the sight of the island’s shores would lessen the frustration and dread that had built with every passing day, but when Anglesey appeared on the northern horizon, he was struck by the devastating certainty that Ivy had already gone.
    Between weather and repairs that had forced him into dry dock, he’d been delayed too damn long.
    Ivy might have worked on the kraken for three weeks, as she’d promised. But he’d forced that promise from her, just as he’d forced her to fix the machine—and why would she have remained in Anglesey for God knew how many months to repair a monster?
    She didn’t have reason to stay. Although she’d wanted him, she doubted he could take care of her. The damned irony was that by giving her a sous—hoping to show her that he could provide for a family, that he would be generous—he’d offered her an escape route. That much money could take her halfway around the world.
    So he’d just have to find her again.
    Dread hardening into determination, Eben handed the telescope over to Barker and braced his hands on the quarterdeck’s balustrade.
    “Captain!”
    The shout came from the crow’s nest, where Teppers pointed over the port bow. Eben narrowed his eyes against the sun. The water’s calm surface had been disturbed by a small eruption, as if a pocket of air had broken underneath. A few moments later, there was another, almost one hundred yards closer to Vesuvius .
    He glanced at Barker, holding the telescope to his eye. “Anything?”
    Barker shook his head.
    Another shout came from the bosun’s mate, at the starboard rail amidships. “Captain!”
    Eben had only a second to glimpse the enormous dark form just below the surface, a rounded body plated with interlocking iron segments. Another pocket erupted fifty feet from Vesuvius ’s side, disturbing the water—when it faded to a ripple the creature beneath had gone.
    Barker looked to him with wide eyes. “Would Ivy have had time enough to rebuild it?”
    “No.” And thank God, because otherwise she might have been in the sea with the real thing. “Hold steady on course. Ready the axes.”
    And pray that they could sail on past it. If the tentacles got hold of them, their only option was to chop away until the kraken let go.
    A film of sweat popped out on the quartermaster’s brow. Barker nodded and shouted to the crew, “Man the axe stations, and look sharp! Keep your eyes out—”
    Terrified shouts sounded from the poop deck. Eben pivoted to look aft. His blood froze.
    Dark and glistening, as thick as his waist at the tip, the tentacle rose over the quarterdeck. Plate-sized suckers covered the pale gray underside, the pink flesh seeming to open and close like hungry mouths as the kraken sought prey . . . and it came straight for Eben.
    He reached for his weapon—too late. Heavy muscle wrapped his upper body in an unbreakable coil, pinning his arms to his sides. Jesus Christ. The oily stink filled his desperate breaths as the tentacle lifted him off his feet. He felt the suckers pulling at his legs, his back. Barker shouted and came at the thick arm with an axe. The blade skidded off the oily skin in a shower of sparks.
    Mechanical flesh.
    Barker’s mouth dropped open. Eben met his gaze for a second, and saw his astonishment reflected in the other man’s eyes. Ivy had done it.
    But what the hell was she doing now?
    Eben didn’t have time to ask. The tentacle carried him