His scent surrounded her, both masculine and earthy. She liked him, and damn, she wanted him. But she couldn’t have one more person in her life who couldn’t see past her size or looks. No matter how much he heated her blood.

Something dark cut through the haze of the sea.

She leaned her cheek against Daire’s bare back, stunned by the continued warmth. Out in the sea, hugging the shoreline, something moved. She patted his stomach. “I see something.”

He nodded and lowered his chin, twisting the throttle. “Hold on,” he bellowed. “We’re going in hot.”

Her thighs clamped against this, and she held on with all her strength. Ice popped up next to her, and Daire swerved. More ice, and he swore. Somebody on the boat was shooting at them?

She glared through the mist, trying to make sense of the shapes. A man stood at the front of a long yacht, pointing a rifle. The storm and distance masked the sound, but bullets continued to ping around them.

Daire’s head was thrown back, and he hissed. His body jerked against her. The smell of blood clogged her nostrils.

She held on tighter, patting up his torso. “Where are you hit?”

“Right arm,” he ground out, turning sharply to the left.

She yelped and struggled to remain in place. A white hangar sat against a stark outcropping, barely visible. He skidded to a stop and was off the vehicle and kicking open a door in the span of a heartbeat. Dashes of blood followed in his wake.

How badly was he hurt?

She scrambled off the snowmobile and ran after him, sliding across bloody snow he’d tracked inside. A sleek silver helicopter took up the center of the concrete hangar. It had small wings with propellers as well as the rotor on top. Definitely a new design and nothing she’d ever seen before.

“Get inside,” he yelled, his voice echoing off metal walls as he ran for a button on the far wall.

She nodded and ran to the machine, pulled the handle, and jumped inside. The interior smelled like leather and Daire. The roof began to open, and snow billowed down.

Daire reached the other side and leaped into the pilot’s seat. “Buckle up.” Blood coursed down his arm, dripping onto the leather.

She whipped off the coat he’d made her wear and pressed the material against his wound.

He swore and jerked away.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, trying to stem the flow again.

He nodded, shut his eyes, and stilled. The atmosphere changed, and tingles bit through the oxygen. The hole in his arm slowly closed.

Man, she’d never seen anybody that fast at healing themselves. “That’s amazing,” she murmured.

He turned and pinned her with flashing green eyes. “I told you to buckle up.”

She blinked, her hands already in motion to obey. Though she didn’t like the tone, meaning she really didn’t like the tone, she’d deal with him when they were safe. The buckle clicked into place. “What is this thing, anyway? It looks like some sort of hybrid.”

“I call her Stella.” He handed over a helmet and shoved one over his head, waiting until she’d done the same so he could talk through a microphone. “The humans have created a few designs close to this, but they don’t have the power or maneuverability we do. Not yet anyway.” He flicked a bunch of buttons, and the machine began to vibrate under her legs.

His voice in her ear caressed down her body, and she shifted in the seat, her heart rate picking up. She tried to focus on the concrete wall in front of her. “When we rise up, will they be able to shoot at us?” she asked.

“Aye. Depending on the type of firepower they have on the boat, they might hit us.” He clicked more levers above his head, and the copter began to shake in earnest. “I haven’t flown her in too long. This might get bumpy.”

She swallowed, feeling a little hemmed in by the helmet. “Stella is your design?”

“Mine and my brother Adam’s. He’s the genius in the family.”

Ah. She’d heard of Adam Dunne, and he was known to be brilliant. Smart and ruthless, just like his brothers. Demons and witches rarely mixed, so she’d only heard rumors. The dossiers she had on the family just listed facts. “I hadn’t realized you’d be so kind,” she said softly.

He turned toward her, his hands still moving levers and flipping buttons. Green eyes, dark and true, lasered through his face shield. “I’ve used up my well of kindness with you.”

“When?”

“When you kept to yourself the fact that you were having explosives planted on the island, putting us both in danger of an earthquake.” He turned and pulled back on the throttle. “Hold on.”

They lifted high and fast, leaving her stomach down on the ground. Wow. The Dunne boys sure had tweaked the machine.

She held her breath.

The wind batted at them, and Daire swore in her ear, his muscles bunching as he jerked the controls. Something pinged loudly against the side of the craft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, turning sharply away from the shore. “They’ve got enough weaponry.”

Cee Cee said a quick prayer, her muscles so tense, her body felt a millennia old.

More bullets hit the craft, and they rocked. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

They flew low, moving up quickly over mountain peaks. The smoldering mine lit the ground below them, and gaping holes revealed burning levels all the way into the mountain. Man, she’d really demolished the mine.

A shrieking alarm pierced the craft. Several lights flashed on the dash in rapid succession.

“We’re out of firing range,” Daire said, his arms visibly shaking. “Come on, Stella. Stay true, sweetheart.”

The soft crooning in his deep voice created a yearning in Cee Cee’s abdomen. In his tone she heard a sweetness she neither deserved nor would ever have. “How damaged is she?”

Daire shook his head. “She’s not good, and we’re losing fuel.”

Cee Cee craned her neck as the destroyed mine faded from sight when they flew out over open waters. The ocean threw up whitecaps and churned a deep black. She shivered.

Daire growled and wrenched on the controls. “The craft has been damaged too much. We won’t make it to Greenland.”

“What about Russia?” she breathed.

“Nope.” The copter pitched and he struggled to regain control. “The best I can do is hit one of the islands in the Franz Josef Land.”

Those were uninhabited and cold. She blew out air. “What then?”

“One thing at a time.” Sweat dotted his brow. “Just hope we make it to an island.”

She nodded and held still, as if that would help, her gaze wide on the furious water below. It seethed dark and deep . . . waiting. They flew, losing altitude, for what seemed like eons but probably was just a few minutes. “What about Svalbard?” she asked, remembering the other island with abandoned mines.

“Too late and in the wrong direction.” The helicopter pitched, rocked, and then started to go down. She cried out, her body tensing, her nails digging into the leather.

Daire’s arms shook and his muscles clenched as he fought with the steering wheel, pulling back. The sea rose up to meet them, and this time, she did scream.

They hit so hard, her head rocked back onto the seat, and she saw flames of white. Water poured over the window. She unclasped her belt, her body in serious pain. Adrenaline roared through her veins, and her heart beat frantically against her rib cage.

Daire kicked open the front window. Freezing seawater poured in. Her lungs compressed, and her skin shrieked. He leaned down and yanked a bag from under her seat and then grabbed her hand. The helicopter sank, and she held her breath as the water consumed them both with a chill too piercing to overcome. Salt and sea pounded against her. How would they survive? Her legs kicking, she pushed off from the drowning craft with all her strength, trying to look up to air.