Note: This is another insert chapter, and it is meant to take place months after Tamara and Byron's meeting with Bennett. It will be inserted between 30 and 31 (I just didn't feel like renumbering). It happens right after Claire frees her mind from Kane.

Dragonfire Sea

Bennett watched as the sea swallowed up the last of the Oshean slave vessel. Flotsam bobbed in the choppy waters, the only evidence that a battle had occurred. Two other large vessels flanked the Lady Faith, awaiting his orders. "Let's move out," he called. The deck erupted into a flurry of shouts and activity. The drengr standing beside him conveyed his message to the other ships. Sales unfurled and the deck beneath his feet lurched as Jonah turned them back towards land.

Cries quieted as their rescued captives were ushered belowdecks to safety. He caught sight of Cat rushing between his injured men, escorting Emmon, all but holding him upright. She glanced up. Their eyes met and held. She'd been magnificent today; he couldn't wait to tell her that.

He didn't have the exact count yet, but they'd managed to rescue some one hundred captives bound for Oshea. New slaves to fuel the Oshean Empire's market, taken from city jails, ripped from their families. He wasn't stupid. He knew they weren't truly criminals—mostly. Kane found any excuse to lock more people up and justify exporting them. With him in power, the Osheans now had their pick of Dragonwall's citizens.

Tris appeared on the poop a few minutes later, saluting him.

"How are they?" he asked.

"They're getting settled, but definitely relived. Most are from Galadhal—Kastali Dun and its nearby towns."

"Good, get an exact headcount. Find out if they have family or friends they can return to. People who will shelter them. If not, we'll take them to Fort Squall and hand them off to Byron. The last thing I want is Kane getting wind of what we're doing."

Everything might fall apart if that happened. Kane had too much leverage. If he found out that there were drengr helping to free the slaves bound for Oshea, it would be over. The drengr had sworn an oath, and magic kept them from breaking it, but out here on the open ocean, they were no longer in Dragonwall. Oaths to the king didn't apply here. It was a gray area they'd worked around. Still, he couldn't risk Kane discovering it, but neither could he allow the Osheans to make off with Dragonwall's people. He couldn't condemn them to a fate worse than death.

"I'll see to it at once, Captain." Tris bobbed his head and stepped away, retreating.

"Shall I have the others do the same?" The drengr beside him asked.

"Yes, thank you. I'll go check on the our injured. See if there were any injuries on the other ships."

"Our drengr will see to them."

"Good. If not, I can send Cat over."

"No need, Captain."

Bennett retreated. His eyes adjusted to the dim light of the hallway as he made his way to Cat's healing room. He found her treating Emmon's battle wounds. She gave no greeting as he entered, quietly shutting the door behind him. This had become routine for them. After each battle, he crept into her quarters to watch her work magic. She'd already healed most of the injured above deck, in the midst of battle. Only those who were severely wounded were brought down for more extensive treatment.

Emmon groaned. Several arrows stuck from his leg and shoulder. A massive gash along his torso had just been closed. It looked angry and pink. A dagger protruded just above his hip.

"Captain?" he managed through clenched teeth.

"Damn it, Emmon. Can't figure out if you're a shit fighter or you like putting yourself in more danger than necessary."

"We both know I—gods above!" Emmon's face went green as Cat plucked one of the arrows free and immediately fed magic into the wound. "I did what I had to do," he finished, panting.

"Well, maybe take one less arrow next time, eh?" He lifted his brows. "Cat's magic only goes so far, and you can't hog it all for yourself."

"I didn't—argh!" Another arrow was free. Cat made quick work of each wound as he distracted Emmon from the pain with tough love.

"How are...how are the captives?" Emmon spoke through clenched teeth.

"Captives no more," he said. "You did good. I'm sure some will be looking to thank you once you're fit to walk the hold."

Emmon had been one of the first aboard the Oshean slave vessel. One of the first to break in to the hold keeping the captives. That kind of bravery did not go unnoticed.

"There, all done," Cat said, moving away to wash her hands in a bowl of water. Herbs floated on bowl's surface. She dried her hands on a small towel then tossed Emmon his shirt. "Go visit our new guests. Find out if they have any ailments. I'll see to their needs once you've compiled a list."

Emmon opened his mouth to protest—

"Consider it punishment for being so careless," she all but purred. Her expression brokered no argument. In the past eight months, she'd managed to secure herself in the pecking order among the ship's residents. None dared cross her. Except perhaps himself.

Emmon scurried out the door. In the silence that followed, he watched as Cat tidied her area. She didn't look up at him once.

Her hair had grown into a shag. She kept it that length, styling it effortlessly so that it swept about her head in a halo of brown. He loved the feel of it between his fingers, when he had her pinned beneath him in his bed. He'd asked if she ever planned to grow it longer and she'd merely shrugged. Short hair was easier on a ship, and she was so pleasing to the eye, that it only accentuated her features.

"You were impressive today," he said at last.

"And this surprises you?" She continued to work, measuring out ingredients for whatever medicine she was concocting.

"Always so difficult," he chuckled.

"You say that as if you'd have it any other way."

"As much as I like your wicked mouth, there are times I prefer your submission."

She finally looked up, a challenge in her gaze. "And what times would those be, Captain?"

"When I've got you in my—"

"You're bleeding!" Her eyes dropped to his bicep.

He'd all but forgotten about it. When he glanced down, he noticed the pool of red now staining his tunic and swore. "It's nothing, a shallow flesh wound." She scoffed and hurried forward. The furrow between her brow had him backtracking. A slow smile spread across his lips. "On second thought," he decided, "you'd better fix it. Could be lethal."

She reached for his tunic before throwing him a glare. He was all too happy to remove it. Instead of the desired effect, she ignored his torso and focused solely on the knife wound. She made a tsking noise, prodding at it. He didn't dare flench.

"You're right, nothing serious." She tossed his tunic at his face and backed away.

His lips parted. "You're not going to heal—"

"Like you said, my magic only goes so far." The look on her face was downright evil.

He growled, stalking forward. She stood her ground, so he was forced to take her by the waist and back her up until her back was flush to the wall. "Surely you have but a drop to spare for me."

"Hmm. No, I don't think I do. But I'd be happy to stitch it closed for you. Might hurt a bit. I could give you some salve for the—"

His mouth cut off the remainder of her words. He pressed his tongue between her lips and groaned. She struggled against him. He caught her jaw in his fingers, holding her in place. The moment the fight went out of her, she relaxed into him, kissing him back.

Gods, she made him feral.

A fist pounded on the door. "Beggin' your pardon, Cat, there's a few captives needing healer's attention."

"I'll... Just a moment." Cat's voice was breathy. She tried to push him away but he only pinned her more firmly, relishing in the feel of her hips pressed to his. It had been far too many days since he'd had her in his bed.

"You make me insane," he growled. "You know that?"

"Oh, do I?"

"Why won't you just move into my cabin already?" He'd already asked her more than once, and always she refused.

"Sorry, but I'm a free woman. Not interested in shackling myself, not even to my ship's captain."

He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "Everyone already knows what we get up to. It's not as if you're quiet—"

This time she cut him off, capturing his lips in a pushing kiss. When she pulled away, he saw the answer on her face. He just couldn't understand why she was so against it.

"I have work to do, Captain. Looks like you'll have to stitch that minor flesh wound on your own, or get someone to do it for you. It's not going to be me." With that, she ducked away and began gathering supplies.

He was left panting, frozen in place as she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. He growled and slammed his palm on the wall. What more did he need to do? Some kind of grand gesture? She was all but his, wasn't she? It sure seemed so when she was writhing beneath him most nights. And yet, she refused.

He stalked from the room in search of a distraction. 

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Hi Book Dragons!

Happy bonus chapter :) I've received a lot of questions about Bennett. I contemplated letting his story arc end in the last book, but decided there was still more for him to do. So...here we are! Just a little something to let you know what he's been up to.

Friday's chapter we're heading over to Jovari/Leah :) See you then!

--Mel