...Donté slipped from the bed and re-buttoned his britches. His white linen shirt was spotted with Velvet’s blood, but he paid it no mind. He unfastened the cuffs binding Velvet to the bed. The man was only partially conscious.

He inspected the sailor, looking for signs of any undue distress. The man seemed oblivious to anyone else in the room. He would deal with Skye Templeton only after he was certain Velvet was attended to properly.

Donté cared for all of his crew, each and every one important to him, each in his own way. His glance met Skye’s look of curiosity—and challenge.

Donté poured out a glass of wine and then returned to the bed. He lifted Velvet’s head so he could drink some of the wine.

After a moment he placed a hand over Velvet’s eyes and placed a command into his mind. “Sleep, Velvet. Sleep until I awaken you.” The vampiric order had the desired effect and within seconds Velvet was sound asleep, soft snores emanating from him.

Rising from the bed he turned to look at Skye. “Why do you continue to challenge me? I feel the lust building inside you. Why do you fight it? You can block me from your mind, but I can see into your heart.”

Skye’s blue gaze studied the vampire and Donté felt his body respond to the narrowed look. “At least I have a heart,” Skye retorted.

Shoulders straight and hands clasped behind his back, the most closed, haughty expression on his face, Skye circled the vampire. Donté struggled with the power, fought to maintain. He was shocked to realize the lad actually thought to intimidate him. This human sought to dominate him—he felt it, saw it in his aura. A glint of respect and curiosity overtook him. He felt a surge of heat against his back and knew Skye stood behind him. Waiting. Felt the danger of the sailor’s presence. The challenge to his authority. He could kill the whelp without lifting a finger, didn’t he realize that? So why didn’t he?

Skye’s warm, human hands dropped onto his shoulders. He knew what was to come, knew he should put a halt to the game now. Knew that he wouldn’t. He had waited for a man like Skye for decades.

The shirt ripped easily as Skye dragged his hand down the back of the expensive, fragile material. The ragged sound of tearing cloth filled the room. The shirt clung to Donté’s arms as he felt the heat of Skye’s focus arrow to the white lines of his back. Khan growled.

Donté looked at the big cat. “Be still, Khan.” He would have no interference with this duel for control. What came of it—so be it.

“Punishment?” Skye asked as he traced the pads of his fingers over the thin lines adorning Donté’s back.

“Not exactly,” Donté responded. He shuddered beneath the touch of the human. His fangs ached to taste him, to swallow the power he knew roared through this man’s blood. It had been so long since he’d known the touch of such a strong man.

Skye tore the shirt from his body and flung it across the room. “Tell me how.”

“It was a long time ago. Too long to remember.”

“I doubt that you’ve forgotten, Captain. Tell me his name.”