When he awoke, Dante found that he was smiling like some kind of fool. He was no stranger to bedding women, but Anara had brought something out in him. She was an invigorating beautiful woman.

Wincing against the ache between his legs, he thought about last night. She had been rough with him. A little too rough. He hadn’t expected that. At the time it was just right, but now he was suffering.

Worth it, he thought, though, wondering if he had been rough with her as well? Anara was an aggressive woman, but she was still much smaller than him, her body delicate and untried—both physically and sexually.

Dante was unable to keep her from his mind. No woman had made his blood run quicker. Her inexperience made it all the more surprising. When Anara set aside the princess a curiously wild nature sprung aggressively forth.

He wanted more of that. Dante could not wait to be with her again, to experience her excitement and her aggressive curiosity for sexual pleasure. That she wanted him made him feel good.

It wasn’t only the blissful, exciting sex. Dante wanted Arana to be his woman. He would find a way off this accursed island—give the gems to Cordilio if he had too—and take the Wind Steppe princess back to Amalfi.

He turned, expecting to see her fast asleep curled up beside him. But she was not there. Somehow, something deep within him he knew she was gone.

Getting up, he found his breaches and put them on before leaving the cave to look for her. The storm had gone, and birds were flying about, squawking and fighting over the leavings on the beach.

The waves crashed against the rocks and bubbled onto the sand, sending a chill through him as the cool water touched his bare feet.

Anara was nowhere to be found.

Then he came upon a spot on the beach near the south side of the island. The sand had been moved away in a large swath as if a large portion of the beach had been swept clean in a whirlpool of air, leaving only smooth black rocks behind.

So this was where she left. Unbeknownst to him, her magic was much more powerful than he had believed. Still on the dunes, Dante sat. He looked at those rocks on the beach, at the waves that came and went, and came again. His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for her.

She was gone.

He breathed in deeply, his eyes coming to the sand. Taking his finger, he twirled some senseless markings there.

The cut gems were still in the cave. Every single one of them. She had left them for him to bargain for his life. At this moment, he would gladly throw them in the sea, or trade them to his traitorous crew if it meant being with Anara again.

He wanted her by his side.

After a time, Dante realized a grey mist was approaching from the south—the clouds around him becoming dark. Normally rain simply dropped from the sky, but now this storm, and the sprinkles of rain it brought with it, came on slowly as if an approaching raincloud were bringing its dreary weather with it as it passed by.

But the storm was much too concentrated to the south. Too pin-pointed to be natural. Dante looked on, his eyes widening.

It could only be magic.

When the storm had reached the beach, wind and sand whipping about him, he nearly turned and ran for the shelter of the caves.

Dante found himself taking shelter against a steep embankment in the dunes, his arms shielding his face. But then the storm simply ceased.

He looked up. The dark clouds were gone and the golden light of the morning’s sun was shining brightly overhead.

In wonder, he glanced about as he recovered to his feet. Something was on the shore. His heart raced inside his chest as he climbed the dune in haste. When he crested the sand, he saw Anara standing on the black rocks, a gentle wave pushing past her ankles as she made her way to him.

Dante almost gasped as he trudged over the sand down to Anara. He came up short when he reached her, realizing that she was not the same woman he had bedded last night.

She was powerful now.

“Anara!” He looked at her for explanation, his eyes glancing about behind her, at the sky.

“I thought it was just talk when I heard some of the other Wind Steppe Whirlwinds speaking about latent magical abilities coming to fruition through sexual exploration.”

She shrugged.

Danta had to physically stop his mouth from hanging open like a madman. “I—I can’t believe it.”

The smiled.

“Anara, I…”

“Yes?”

It seemed disingenuous to tell her what he wanted while he was a prisoner on this island—when she could easily help him escape. He decided to say something else.

“I’m glad for you. You can take care of yourself.”

“I believe I can. Are you truly glad for me?”

He thought for a moment. He had to simply tell her the truth. “I would be lying if I said there was not a part of me that wished you still needed me.”

“I don’t need you, Dante.” He felt those words in his guts as she spoke them. To get off this island, I mean. But…”

“Yes?” He was surprised at the eagerness in his question.

“I do need you. I want you.”

With those words, he let out a long, slow breath. “Will you come back to Amalfi with me? Will you be mine?”

Her face was almost stony as she approached him, looked up at him with her large brown eyes and put her hands on his bare chest. He could not help himself. Dante took her there, kissing her deeply, her hands coming to rest above his neck as she kissed him back.

Anara pulled away and smiled. “You made me yours in the caves last night, My Amalfi Pirate Lord.”

Almost quirking a grin, he schooled his face into a frown instead. “I’m no pirate, Princess.”

“And I’m no pomegranate.”

“We should get the stones.”

She nodded. They went back to the cave hand in hand, took up the gems and then left the island amidst a whirlwind of air, Anara and Dante walking along the seabed in the eye of her storm.