Heart of Steel by Meljean Brook Page A

forgery. I have not even smoked in my quarters since I’ve had it aboard.”
    Oh, his captain was simply amazing. “I could kiss you.”
    â€œI’ll bare my ass for your lips later.”
    He laughed and took the contraption, not bothering to hide the shaking of his hands—excitement and relief, a powerful combination. He flicked open the satchel’s cover and the familiar pain lodged near his heart, the incredible sensation of beholding something beyond price, beyond beauty. How could she not kill him for this?
    Intending to ask her, he glanced up, but the words caught in his throat, his voice arrested by her expression. Lips softly parted and eyes bright, her face echoed his emotions as she looked at the sketch, but with something more: longing. Then she blinked, and the familiar hardness appeared. Her gaze met his.
    â€œWhy?” he asked hoarsely.
    Though he’d only managed to speak part of the question, she understood him perfectly.
    â€œFor the same reason you don’t seek revenge. Just as throwing you overboard was completely justified by your stupid attempt to take my ship, so is your desire to reclaim this sketch. It is yours— and I’ve been a thief, but I prefer to steal only when necessary. And then there is this.” She rolled her sleeve back over the bracelet. “Remove it now, please.”
    â€œOf course.” He set the glider contraption aside. Her fingers were warm and callused, the skin of her inner wrist smooth, her nails strong and curved like claws. He rotated the first copper segment. “You’ll follow me to the Ivory Market?”
    â€œYes. And when our business is settled, perhaps we’ll make time for something more.”
    Her voice was low, throaty. His heart began to pound. Carefully, he turned the next segment. A brief touch against the side of his neck almost made him jump.
    The fingers of her right hand slid along his jaw. Her slow smile exposed sharp teeth. “Careful, Mr. Fox. I’d hate to be poisoned.”
    Sweat dampened his heated skin. His blood raced. “Only one more segment.”
    Her hand drifted across his shoulder, down his left arm. He twisted the copper once . . . then again. The bracelet click ed.
    Yasmeen stiffened. Anger and disbelief flashed over her expression, followed by terror. “You fucking bast—”
    Her eyes rolled back. He caught her when she dropped.
    â€œOpium,” he said urgently against her ear, hoping she was still conscious enough to understand. “Not poison. Never poison for you.”
    Her head lolled forward, her muscles went lax. Copper glinted as an object fell from her right hand and thunk ed against the boards.
    Archimedes stared at it in astonishment. Another slave bracelet—larger than the one still around her wrist. Good God. When had she palmed it? Only a few seconds ago, she’d been running her fingers over his skin.
    He’d known he was in trouble. He hadn’t realized just how close she’d come to turning the tables on him.
    Thankfully, the opium had acted more quickly this time. He’d expected to dive into the hideaway until the drug had taken her down, but apparently even Captain Corsair didn’t have much resistance against a second dose. Was it too much?
    No. Her breathing and pulse were both strong. She simply needed to sleep it off. He glanced at the bed but immediately recognized the folly of it. She might forgive him the trickery, but she wouldn’t if any of her crew came in and saw her drugged in bed, fully dressed.
    She also wouldn’t forgive him if he stripped her naked.
    Damn it all. He looked to the hideaway—and hoped she could forgive him this, too.
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    He didn’t risk the food, no matter how tempting. And if, during the ride down to the docks on the cargo platform, he entertained the fantasy of wearing only a slave bracelet in Yasmeen’s bed and feeding her tender morsels on command,