As he said, the meat was truly succulent and tasty. They ate the whole fish. Afterward they rinsed their mouths out with salt water just as the clouds began to fall out of the sky in sheets of freezing rain. It didn’t even start as a sprinkle first. They were now in a torrential downpour.

Anara held herself, her teeth near to chattering from the icy-cold rain. “I’m freezing!”

Dante looked up into the sky. He almost seemed to be enjoying it. He looked at her and nodded. “Come,” he called, grabbing her hand and leading the way off the beach and into the small forest of trees.

The wind howled and a crack of lightning lit the ground. By the time they reached the caves at the base of the mountain there were deep puddles filling the small holes and hollows. Anara stepped through one and the cold water sloshed onto her soaked dress. She blinked against her wet hair sticking to her face.

Shivers ran up her back and down her legs. She craned her neck to look at the cliffs of black rock. Rainwater streamed off the areas not overgrown with grass and vines. Getting through the opening was like walking through a small waterfall, the water freezing despite her already soaked condition.

There was an iron sconce with a lit torch near the entrance. It cast a pool of yellow-orange light, giving them light to see by. The crashing waves and the storm overhead faded as they went deeper into the cave.

Dante abruptly stopped, removed his hand from hers. She almost didn’t let him go. The blackness ahead was not inviting, though the air in here was much warmer.

“What are you doing?” She watched as he Dante opened a chest hidden in the dark

“The entrance is lit, but the path is not,” he said. “We need more light.” He sparked a flint and lit a fresh torch from the chest.

“What do you use this place for?” she asked, teeth chattering. She held herself to gain any warmth possible. “Do you bring slaves here?”

“No,” he said plainly as he took up the torch and lead her deeper into the cave. “We do not participate in the slave trade. At least not under my command.”

“Why not?

“It is beneath me.”

Of course it was. She realized her feet were in dry sand, the whitest, smoothest sand she had ever seen or felt. Her feet felt warm, but she was shaking hard now.

“I guess that means I won’t be taking you to the Ravager Coast.”

She could plainly see his mirthful features in the light of the torch, but Anara was too cold to find any humor in those words.

“Don’t worry,” he continued. “There’s a fire already burning and a boiling pot of water for a steaming hot bath.”

She couldn’t wait. Had this cave not been here, the Wind Steppe princess would surely die in the night. She was still in awe how tropical weather could become so cold this quickly. But she knew when magic was involved, anything was possible.

The cave seemed peaceful and the ground had plenty of the soft white sand to keep their feet safe from course rocks. A subtle sound of air brushed through the passage, like that of the inside of a large shell.

They turned several bends and finally came into a cavern. Anara looked about, turning her neck fully to both sides. The top of the cavern was not visible in the dark.

When they crested the crates, a crackling hearth came into view. It had been set into a natural depression in the cave wall and built up with ornamental stone that had been chiseled into a stately hearth. Beside it a large pile of driftwood sat ready to burn.

Moving toward the heart she looked about the many casks, crates, bushels of dried herbs and jars of preserved fruits, some rugs and many other small things one might find in the hold of a ship.

“A space for stolen cargo,” Dante explained. “The valuable pieces are off-loaded and picked up by other ships.”

Her teeth chattered, but the warmth of the fire was wonderful. It made her shiver harder, the skin on her body prickling. “And every--th—th—thing else?

“Usually shipped off to be sold. Eventually” He gestured to the rugs. “These are worth a few silvers. The wine is quite rare, but I think that will stay. All of its worth coin, just not as much as captives or hostages.”

She nodded, looking at his strong body, his beautiful muscles and golden hair. How was he not cold? He turned to her.

To distract him, she asked. “What is that draft I feel?” She grabbed a large piece of drift wood and put it in the fire.

“It’s coming from the wind flutes above.” He gestured upwards vaguely.

She nodded turning and holding her body tightly. His warm hand gentle grasped her upper arm and she turned.

“Your lips are turning blue,” he said. “But be careful. The fire, if you stand too close, can burn you.” He pulled her back a pace and a half. “Wait here.”

He turned and trudged off into the dark where there was some wooden scaffolding. She could hear him moving about. The sound of a crate being shifted echoed in the cavern and ceramics clinked about.

He came back with a quilt. “Normally we would have supplies from the ship, but now we have nothing. This was all I could find.” He held it up. It was luxurious, though small. He approached her, reached out to put the back of his hand against her cheek. “You’re very cold.”

“I t—t—tried to tell y—you,” she stuttered.

“You need warmth,” he said, stepping close to her. Very close. But she didn’t care, not when he pressed his large hand upon her back so that she was touching his chest. He was warm. So warm. He put the linen over her head and began dry her hair.

She let him.

“It’s my fault,” he said.

She inched her chin up to look at him as he spoke. His violet eyes met hers, though now they lacked that deep wanting and she saw only worry there. That’s what it was, was it not?

The needful woman within her cursed Anara.

“I should have known the cold rains would affect you poorly,” he said, distracting her. “Your body is much smaller than my own. You’re more delicate.”

She picked up on his words. More delicate. As if he was also delicate in some way. She knew that wasn’t true. Though beautiful, the captain was hardened, his muscles firm and his experience not lacking.

“I must warm you.”

“H—how?”

“A bath. I told you.” She nodded, remembering. The cauldron was there, above the fire. “You will beg for cold air soon enough, I promise you.”

His words had fieriness to them, a determined passion that filled her with excitement. But she was too cold now to do anything about it as he detached her arms from him.

What happened next surprised her. He took her in his embrace and kissed her. But before she was able to respond to him, he pulled away, leaving her wanting despite her shivering.

She sat next to the fire as he brought out a wooden tub from the back and then proceeded to fill that with cold water. “It’s ready,” he said. “You can soak and rest.”

“And—and you? Where will you be as I take this bath?”

“Oh, outside,” he said, gesturing.

“In the storm?”

Without answering her, Dante lifted the large cauldron and carried it toward the tub, using the linen he had used to dry her hair with to keep his hands from burning.

The Wind Steppe princess watched as his muscles hardened and flexed. He was very strong and did not walk awkwardly as he carried it across the sand to the tub, though she suspected it was still quite heavy for him.

She bit her lip, holding her left arm against her body as she shivered. Dante poured the boiling water into the cold bath. He tested it with his finger.

Watching him like this…

“Perfect,” he said, turning toward her. She swallowed as he approached her, put a hand on her cheek. “Are you ready for your bath?”

Anara nodded.

“Good.” Turning, he indicated the cauldron in the sand.

She let her wet nightgown fall.

“I’ll boil more water so when your bath cools you—“ When he found her standing as naked as the day she was born, he broke off.

Dante did not divert his eyes from her.

The Wind Steppe princess did not allow her teeth to chatter. Not now while he was looking at her, while his eyes touched hers, then clung upon her breasts. She was aware of her own body. The cold had made her nipples hard, protruding.

“What do you see, Dante?”

Slowly he took in the sight of her. She could see the lust plainly in his eyes; hear his need as he sucked in a deep breath of air for whatever temporary relief that might have given him.

“I see…” He swallowed, his face a mask of perseverance. “I see that you’re taking advantage of my promise not to touch you.”

She smiled, making sure to make that smile as saucy and teasing as she could. “It seems I am.”

He breathed out in a shuttering breath. She brushed his arm with her fingers as she walked past him toward the hot bath. The act she was putting on was near to shattering—like ice.

She yelped when he bent to scoop her up in his arms.

“Is it revenge, Anara?” he asked as he carried her.

She had been enraged about the journal for a time, but now her inhibitions had been swept aside, leaving only her own desires.

She said nothing as he brought her over the bath and gently lowered her into the steaming water. She flinched at the heat as he set her in. Quickly she acclimatized to the wonderful heat.

“Mmm,” she noised, closing her eyes as the warm water enveloped her body. Her skin prickled and she shivered furiously with the sudden sensations.

“I must leave,” he declared, his voice breathy. “I will await you in the hollow near the mouth of the cave,” he said turning and walking away.

“Worry not. There is a hearth there as well to warm myself,” he called hastily in afterthought.

“I’ll tell you when I have finished.”

Dante gave no answer as she watched his shadow recede down the corridor, the sound of his bare feet on the sand diminishing.

The Wind Steppe princess sighed with relief as the water’s warmth soothed her aching body. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her arms, her breasts and nipples, and every other part of her body, massaging warmth back into her flesh.

She prickled again, shivering as she smiled at how wonderful it felt. Relaxed now, she giggled in the silence amidst the crackling hearth. She caressed her collarbone. The tingling sensations brought on by her own slender fingers felt good. She moved her hand to the center of her breasts, and finally found her nipples. They were still hard, even after warming.

Anara licked her lips and pinched them gently. She began to pleasure herself, but abruptly stopped. What was she doing?

She needed to wait.

The Wind Steppe princess wanted Dante. She glanced about, but he was nowhere to be found. She was alone. Naked. Defenseless. He wasn’t here. And he wasn’t going to come. She frowned.

The captain’s self-control had almost wavered, she thought, smiling. He was wild with his need for her. Anara was both thrilled, and horrified at the prospect.

She sighed, contemplating on what to do about him, but her thoughts drifted. She did not look forward to sleeping on the sand, but there was no helping it. It would be a very uncomfortable night, so she decided to rest here as long as she could.

Anara closed her eyes. She breathed in deeply, the hot bath and the steam relaxing her so deeply—so wonderfully.