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of his flesh digging into her through her thin nightgown and knew he was the same.
    They were all tall, with hard, elegantly delineated muscles that gave them the grace and beauty of sculptures depicting the perfect male body rather than the appearance of actual, flawed human beings.
    Because they weren’t human beings at all.
    “Mutants,” Anna breathed in shock, scarcely realizing she’d spoken aloud until she saw their handsome faces freeze and harden.
    The man she was staring at glanced toward the one she’d realized must be their leader and her gaze automatically followed the movement.
    She had the impression that he’d been studying her with equal thoroughness while she’d looked at them. It was hard to say what he’d thought of his assessment, though, because, clearly, she’d managed to insult and anger all of them.
    “She either isn’t very bright,” he said coolly, “or she has some sort of false sense of superiority that not being a ‘mutant’ somehow protects her from the consequences of pissing off men who aren’t in a very forgiving mood at the moment.”
    Anna swallowed convulsively several times, blushing at the insult, struggling to think of a response. “I’m not very bright,” she agreed shakily. “Could I … uh … just give you directions?”
    He narrowed his eyes at her. “And apparently, she doesn’t think we’re very bright either,” he said dryly.
    Irritation flickered through her. “I’m not deaf! I do understand English, although I have to say yours is damned hard to understand!”
    He moved toward her, bending down and pushing his face close to hers. “It comes from being a water breather,” he growled, enunciating each word slowly, and then added. “Born one.”
    Her eyes widened.
    He lifted a hand and skimmed a finger lightly along her cheek. “Yes, we breed .
    Is that why your father decided to step things up? He figured if he didn’t start blowing us up there’d be too many to kill all of us?”
    If he’d punched her in the stomach he couldn’t have more surely jolted her or deprived her of air or sent her mind into complete chaos. She felt dizzy with the rush of blood away from her head. “Blow up?” she managed to whisper through lips that didn’t seem to want to cooperate in forming the words.
    “Simon! We need to move!”
    Simon straightened and turned to look at the man who’d spoken. They seemed to exchange a silent communication and the one named Simon turned to look at her again.
    This time his expression was speculative. “Take us to him. Mind you, if this is a trap, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
     
     
    * * * *

     
     
    Anna stared in disbelief at the spot where the mansion of Miles Cavendish had been moored less than a week earlier. After turning all the way around and studying the houses, though, she finally had to accept that she was in the right place. The house wasn’t.
    That was the problem with a floating city, she thought fearfully. There was never any telling when someone might decide to move their property to another city altogether!
    She sent a terrified look at Simon. “It was right here! I swear to god! Don’t hurt me! It was here!”
    His face looked like stone. “When?”
    Anna blinked at him, trying to jog her memory. “A few days ago! I’m not sure.
    Paul brought me. There was a party and … and I met Miles Cavendish.”
    “No doubt celebrating their victory!” Simon spat in furious disgust. “Two hundred people dead! Two hundred! Fifty of them ‘human’, just like you, tourists whose only mistake was getting in the way! Another three hundred wounded, a lot of them fucked up for life!”
    Anna gaped at him, thinking for several moments that she might throw up.
    “Met?” one demanded sharply.
    She looked at him, vaguely recalled Simon calling him by name—something Biblical? Caleb!
    “What do you mean ‘met’?” Simon growled.
    Anna returned her attention to Simon. “Paul brought me here! Mr.