Enthalpy of Fusion

I

"Shh!"

"I'm trying..."

"Try harder."

A huffed laugh. "Dot, I can't get much harder."

Only Corven could get away with such a thing, and only when I'm distracted.

I shifted on the bed, holding him close, until my bare shoulders pressed against the wall, sliding on sweat. The ship's engines, large and quiet as they were, still made the hull vibrate and pulse with life. I pulled Corven's lips to mine to be in contact with them both—like Russian dolls, him and me, us and the ship. I bit his neck because it makes him growl, sharpens his focus. And between the arches and sighs tried to forget myself.

Coils clicked as the automata of my left arm worked, drawing metal fingers over his skin in practiced ways. I cannot feel it, only a sensation of pressure to know that he's there. But Corven will jump and shudder at the chilling touch of brass. I used the knowledge to make him hiss.

"Devilish," he muttered. And I smiled because it was true.

Airships are slow travel, so we made the most of it. My heart jumped in a slight stutter of panic when the ship's wall passed from beneath my hand, and Corven paused, at the sudden tension. Green eyes blown darkest black stared down at me for a moment in puzzlement. He raked his gaze up to where my fingers stretched for the metal and then smiled a secret smile. He did something delicious with his hips, and I could feel the Baleful Lysander buzzing in my bones until the energy of heat and motion turned me liquid.

The rest of the crew might have heard us, voices echoing in the ribs of the ship. Part of me thought happily on that and hoped it was a rousing performance. They deserved an adequate divertissement to accompany the hazard pay offered for flying into hell's mouth and delivering a gift.

Cooling, condensing into discrete bodies, we let our breaths even, our heads resting against the expensive captain's pillows on the expensive captain's bed.

"Cor," I said, above a whisper, but soft enough to leave the cabin hushed.

He didn't answer but wasn't asleep. He was flexing the fingers of my brass hand.

"Corven."

"Lady Raine."

His voice smiled, threatening my seriousness. "Don't call me that."

He rolled on his side to gaze at me, work me over with those eyes. I sighed with affected melodrama and slid out of bed, pacing across my quarters for a discarded corset. I watched him watch me as I pulled the thing down, got it settled, and snapped the loops on the ties onto the binding jaws on the wall. Xavier-brand Autolacer. Next best thing to having a servant, potentially better for cost efficiency. I threw the lever, heard the weights shift, and exhaled as the laces pulled taut, but not tight—only society women would bother.

The machine clunks three times as it secures the laces. I have no idea what it actually does for the simple reason that I am always facing the other way.

Corven smiled as I tied on my drawers, just a small appreciative grin with the miraculous capacity to make me blush. It shouldn't have worked, but it always did. I tried to fire back with a leer and smile of my own as he got up and as minimally dressed as it was possible to be, but if it affected him at all, it was with infuriating pride.

I leaned against a vertical support beam and felt Lysander shivering up and down my spine. Corven slid his hands around my armored waist.

"What?" he asked.

Sometimes my lover could be handsome, sometimes beautiful. Cornered against the beam, he felt a little dangerous, too, and I dropped my gaze. I placed the metal hand on his chest to see him react to the cold. "You will not feel the heat," they had explained. "Just the pressure." I pressed the mechanis1m harder.

"Dorothy."

Perhaps this is what I get for my pound of flesh, an underbaron from Merramys who moves with subtle wraithness. Most of the women and half the men on board would oblige him, if granted an invitation.

I cleared my throat, leaned my skull against Lysander's metal bone, and looked at him. "You should check the engines."

He laughed a little. "There's nothing wrong with the engines."

But I was the one leaning against the ship, taking in its rhythms. And as captain, I was its voice. "Main starboard prop," I said.

He looked suspicious, but a ship's engineer with Corven's conscience cannot ignore a maintenance request. Still wary, he gave a slight nod and pulled away to don proper dress. I stayed where I was, only reaching out to catch his arm as he passed by to leave.

"Cor." He looked hopeful for a second and then as if he was going to ask a question.

I kissed him instead.