Of Silk and Steam
Page 78
Not enough. Never enough. He wanted her and he wanted her forever, and if she wouldn’t dare take that step, then he would. “When this is all over,” he whispered, stepping up onto the Cyclops’s bent knee so that their faces were but an inch apart, “I’m going to ask you to be my wife.”
Her shocked intake of breath stole his. “Leo—”
Sliding a hand around her nape, he drew her mouth to his, tasting the sweetness of it in soft, hungry kisses that gave way to something far more possessive. He wasn’t lost anymore, unable to determine his future or second-guessing every decision he made… The words were a rash declaration, but they rang so true that a part of him ached.
He knew what he wanted now.
This. Her. The dark depths of his hunger rose, a brutal claiming that stirred his very soul. Drawing back, he cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “I’m going to make you mine, Mina.”
Her pulse flickered in her throat like a rabbit’s. She wet her lips. “If this were a different world, I might say yes.”
He’d pushed her far enough. Any more and she might run. Leo stepped back, letting go of the Cyclops’s arm. “Then let’s go forge another world together.”
Twenty-three
Lena slid her phosphorus-lens goggles up onto her head, chewing on her lip as she peered out into the darkness. Will was a warm, steady presence at her back, one of his hands splayed over her hip. He was a comfort in the dark night, his job only to protect her on this dangerous mission.
Perched on the rooftop with him, overlooking the crowd of metaljackets, she fiddled with the frequency on the control device Leo had given her. A few adjustments earlier had altered the control pad into something that amplified the waves that controlled the automatons. She’d tried to alter the frequency, but the metaljackets only seemed to respond to something of a similar wavelength. “Please let it work,” she whispered, glancing at Blade perched high up on the rookery walls.
Wave after wave of automatons stared at the wall, a larger assault than had been launched so far. Blade’s expression was grim, even from this distance. There was no way the walls could withstand this kind of assault, and from the look of the front row of metaljackets, Morioch was sending in his spitfires to burn the rookeries.
Images burned through her head, making her perspire. Honoria, in bed with her niece…helpless as fire leaped from house to house. The houses were so closely packed that the spitfires would barely need to use their flame-throwing cannons once the first house caught.
“It’ll work,” Will murmured, hunting the shadows for anyone who might have seen them.
His complete confidence in her abilities made her heart soar. Taking a steady breath, Lena watched as Morioch lifted his arm in the air.
“Burn them out!” he yelled, and his arm dropped, just as more than four hundred metaljackets took a step forward, iron boots ringing simultaneously on the cobbles.
Time to find out if her device worked.
* * *
Blade tensed, one arm lifted in the air as he watched Morioch’s arm drop and the metaljackets surge forward as one. Flanked by plain metaljackets, the spitfires came first, their flame-throwing cannons dropping into place as they aimed at the walls.
Seemed Morioch wasn’t going to bother with destroying a legend and creating a martyr. He just wanted the rookeries destroyed. Christ, the walls were only lightly manned, barely enough to deflect heavy artillery. Where the hell were Leo and the duchess? Honor… Blade’s breath caught in his chest, panic a cold spiral through him. An image of his daughter’s sleeping face flashed to mind. Two people he’d die for, if that were necessary to keep them safe. “Sorry, luv,” he whispered into the night, knowing Honoria would never forgive him if he didn’t come home to her, if he didn’t keep the promises he’d made when he left her trying grimly not to cry.
His gut twisted, his arm starting to drop to urge his own men on and—
One by one the metaljackets went mad.
Blade caught his arm in mid-descent. “Hold!” he roared. The demon of his hunger, his craving, wasn’t on him now and he had to make do with only slightly enhanced vision. Never before had he been so frightened that he’d been unable to rouse it.
“Bloody ’ell,” Rip said.
Flame spurted into the air as a spitfire spun in circles, unleashing jets of liquid Greek fire across its compatriots. Several of the metaljackets simply slumped to the ground, the ones behind them grinding straight over the top of them. Mayhem. Sheer, glorious mayhem.
“It worked,” he said incredulously, eyeing the nearby rooftop where Lena worked her device.
“Only within a certain range.” Rip pointed at the far side of the wall, where metaljackets advanced grimly on the rookery.
“I’ll take advantage o’ whatever Lady Luck can send me.” A vicious note descended into his voice. This time the darkness of his craving swept up over him, the edges of his shadowy vision tinged with red. No fear now. Only the violent desire to do as much damage as possible before the metaljackets reached the walls.
This time when he lifted his arm, there was no doubt. “Into the streets, boys! And aim for the joints!”
A roar shook the wall as men slung grappling hooks into the wall, then leaped into the melee below.
Twenty-four
The enormous clanking creature that enveloped Leo was less difficult to control than he’d expected, though he’d needed most of the half-hour walk through the streets to work out what everything did.
Charlie, of course, had taken to the Cyclops as if he’d built them himself. The lad was amusing himself by running at walls, then performing backflips.
Ahead of him, Mina’s arm went up—or at least, the metal fist of the automaton. “They’re fighting,” she yelled. “Kincaid, take the east. We’ll hit them from the south. Grind them up against the walls!”
Half of the mechs clanked after Kincaid, leaving Leo and Mina with the band of Blade’s men and about a hundred mechs suited up. Leo strode forward, his own legs working within the Cyclops. Pneumatic pistons hissed beneath him as the creature clattered over the cobbles. His thighs strained with effort.
“Morioch’s ahead,” Mina said to him, her dark eyes visible behind the thin eye slit of the automaton.
“He’s mine,” Leo returned, grimly anticipating the look on the duke’s face when Leo came crashing out of an alleyway.
Her shocked intake of breath stole his. “Leo—”
Sliding a hand around her nape, he drew her mouth to his, tasting the sweetness of it in soft, hungry kisses that gave way to something far more possessive. He wasn’t lost anymore, unable to determine his future or second-guessing every decision he made… The words were a rash declaration, but they rang so true that a part of him ached.
He knew what he wanted now.
This. Her. The dark depths of his hunger rose, a brutal claiming that stirred his very soul. Drawing back, he cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “I’m going to make you mine, Mina.”
Her pulse flickered in her throat like a rabbit’s. She wet her lips. “If this were a different world, I might say yes.”
He’d pushed her far enough. Any more and she might run. Leo stepped back, letting go of the Cyclops’s arm. “Then let’s go forge another world together.”
Twenty-three
Lena slid her phosphorus-lens goggles up onto her head, chewing on her lip as she peered out into the darkness. Will was a warm, steady presence at her back, one of his hands splayed over her hip. He was a comfort in the dark night, his job only to protect her on this dangerous mission.
Perched on the rooftop with him, overlooking the crowd of metaljackets, she fiddled with the frequency on the control device Leo had given her. A few adjustments earlier had altered the control pad into something that amplified the waves that controlled the automatons. She’d tried to alter the frequency, but the metaljackets only seemed to respond to something of a similar wavelength. “Please let it work,” she whispered, glancing at Blade perched high up on the rookery walls.
Wave after wave of automatons stared at the wall, a larger assault than had been launched so far. Blade’s expression was grim, even from this distance. There was no way the walls could withstand this kind of assault, and from the look of the front row of metaljackets, Morioch was sending in his spitfires to burn the rookeries.
Images burned through her head, making her perspire. Honoria, in bed with her niece…helpless as fire leaped from house to house. The houses were so closely packed that the spitfires would barely need to use their flame-throwing cannons once the first house caught.
“It’ll work,” Will murmured, hunting the shadows for anyone who might have seen them.
His complete confidence in her abilities made her heart soar. Taking a steady breath, Lena watched as Morioch lifted his arm in the air.
“Burn them out!” he yelled, and his arm dropped, just as more than four hundred metaljackets took a step forward, iron boots ringing simultaneously on the cobbles.
Time to find out if her device worked.
* * *
Blade tensed, one arm lifted in the air as he watched Morioch’s arm drop and the metaljackets surge forward as one. Flanked by plain metaljackets, the spitfires came first, their flame-throwing cannons dropping into place as they aimed at the walls.
Seemed Morioch wasn’t going to bother with destroying a legend and creating a martyr. He just wanted the rookeries destroyed. Christ, the walls were only lightly manned, barely enough to deflect heavy artillery. Where the hell were Leo and the duchess? Honor… Blade’s breath caught in his chest, panic a cold spiral through him. An image of his daughter’s sleeping face flashed to mind. Two people he’d die for, if that were necessary to keep them safe. “Sorry, luv,” he whispered into the night, knowing Honoria would never forgive him if he didn’t come home to her, if he didn’t keep the promises he’d made when he left her trying grimly not to cry.
His gut twisted, his arm starting to drop to urge his own men on and—
One by one the metaljackets went mad.
Blade caught his arm in mid-descent. “Hold!” he roared. The demon of his hunger, his craving, wasn’t on him now and he had to make do with only slightly enhanced vision. Never before had he been so frightened that he’d been unable to rouse it.
“Bloody ’ell,” Rip said.
Flame spurted into the air as a spitfire spun in circles, unleashing jets of liquid Greek fire across its compatriots. Several of the metaljackets simply slumped to the ground, the ones behind them grinding straight over the top of them. Mayhem. Sheer, glorious mayhem.
“It worked,” he said incredulously, eyeing the nearby rooftop where Lena worked her device.
“Only within a certain range.” Rip pointed at the far side of the wall, where metaljackets advanced grimly on the rookery.
“I’ll take advantage o’ whatever Lady Luck can send me.” A vicious note descended into his voice. This time the darkness of his craving swept up over him, the edges of his shadowy vision tinged with red. No fear now. Only the violent desire to do as much damage as possible before the metaljackets reached the walls.
This time when he lifted his arm, there was no doubt. “Into the streets, boys! And aim for the joints!”
A roar shook the wall as men slung grappling hooks into the wall, then leaped into the melee below.
Twenty-four
The enormous clanking creature that enveloped Leo was less difficult to control than he’d expected, though he’d needed most of the half-hour walk through the streets to work out what everything did.
Charlie, of course, had taken to the Cyclops as if he’d built them himself. The lad was amusing himself by running at walls, then performing backflips.
Ahead of him, Mina’s arm went up—or at least, the metal fist of the automaton. “They’re fighting,” she yelled. “Kincaid, take the east. We’ll hit them from the south. Grind them up against the walls!”
Half of the mechs clanked after Kincaid, leaving Leo and Mina with the band of Blade’s men and about a hundred mechs suited up. Leo strode forward, his own legs working within the Cyclops. Pneumatic pistons hissed beneath him as the creature clattered over the cobbles. His thighs strained with effort.
“Morioch’s ahead,” Mina said to him, her dark eyes visible behind the thin eye slit of the automaton.
“He’s mine,” Leo returned, grimly anticipating the look on the duke’s face when Leo came crashing out of an alleyway.
