Atlantis Rising (35 page)

“Yes,” she said. Simple and direct. Just
yes
. And then she lifted her face to kiss him, and his world caught fire.

He lifted her, and her legs came up and around his waist. He cried out at the fierce pleasure that pounded through him at her touch. His body hardened, muscles clenching, and he walked, carrying her, until her back was pressed against the wall.

She moaned into his mouth and twined her fingers in his hair, pulling his head toward her as she plunged into his kiss. He shifted his hands until he felt her rounded ass in his palms, and he squeezed and caressed her, pulling her forward so her skirt rode up her thighs and nothing but his pants and the thin silk of her underwear was between them.

It was still too much. He propped her up on one of his thighs and shifted his hands to rip the lace in two and yank the pieces off her. Then he pushed his leg up so that the hardness of his leg rubbed against her wetness.

She moaned and writhed against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Yes, touch me. Take me, Conlan. I need you.”

He bent to bury his face in her neck, needing to shout out his triumph but wanting to muffle the sound from everyone gathered so near. With a muted growl, he bit at her neck where it curved into her shoulder, then caressed the spot with his tongue, soothing the tiny scrape.

She moaned again and arched into him, frantically pulling at his shirt, trying to get her hands on his skin. He ripped his shirt up out of his pants with one hand, unbuckled his belt and unzipped in seconds. Before he could do anything else, she put her hands on his shoulders and used them to lift up a little.

Then, looking into his eyes the entire time, she centered herself and slid down on his erection, wrapping him in her heat and wetness. He couldn’t help it, he shouted out her name. Grabbed her delicious ass again and squeezed. Lifting her and driving into her again and again, watching pleasure glaze her eyes until they fluttered closed.

Then he stopped. She whimpered, blinked at him. “Why did you stop?”

Slowly, inch by inch, he lowered her onto his shaft again, watching her face. “Because I need to see you while I take you. I need to look into your eyes and see into your soul, my Riley,
mi amara aknasha
. I need to know that you are mine, now and forever.”

He pulled back out of her, drove in again to the hilt, loving the sound of her gasp. “I want you to take me and know that I am yours as well.”

She lifted up, feminine muscles clinging to his cock even as she pulled away from him. Torturing him with her deliberateness. “Now and forever, Conlan. No matter what the gods may have in mind for us, there will never be another for me. You are my only. My happily ever after. My love. My soul.”

With the words, she seated herself on him, pushing against him until she could take no more.

There was no more to take.

Then stopped, surrounding him, tightening around him, his hardness entirely sheathed in her heat. His heart sheathed in hers.

Simultaneously, they swept aside any remaining barriers between their two souls.

And light and color blasted through his world—her world—their world. They stood trembling in a maelstrom of cerulean and aqua and silvery green. The music of rainbows lilted through them, around them, piercing them as they stood. A fountain of need, of longing, of utter fulfillment cascaded around them and into them until he could not tell where he ended and she began.

Worlds trembled on the verge of awakening, and stars burst into firestorms of radiance. Riley’s soul opened to him, and he claimed it for his own.

She did the same with his.

And the fire, fury, and raging power of the elements soared through him and out of him into her, and he had a microsecond of time to wonder how such passion could explode without creating new life, but then she was screaming in his mind and the universe went supernova around them.

He fell to his knees, still cradling her in his arms, too weak to stand. She gasped for air, her breathing in time with his.

When she finally lifted her head, her face was almost too beautiful for his vision to bear. “What happened? Did the world end?” she whispered.

“That, I think, was the soul-melding,” he replied, barely able to form words. “According to legend, it only grows more intense as time passes.”

She blinked. “We’re never going to survive it.”

It was a long time before he could quit laughing enough to catch his breath and carry her to the cot in the corner. There he held her throughout the hours until dawn and watched her sleep. Thanking the gods for the gift of her love. Vowing his life to protect her.

Light flashed through the room, a lightning strike of energy that scorched across his vision.

Poseidon’s answer, perhaps. Now if Conlan only knew what in the nine hells it meant.

 
A few too-short hours later, Riley sat in a corner of Quinn’s war room, hands cradling a mug of coffee. She couldn’t stop watching Conlan. Her fierce warrior had so easily taken command of the planning and dominated the room. Even in a roomful of alpha males, he would always be the one who dominated.

For a man who didn’t believe he had what it took to rule, he had the look of a king stamped into every hard line of his face.

And he wanted her to be his queen. The thought was too enormous to wrap her mind around, especially now. On the eve of a full-out assault of the vampire lair. She’d think about it later. She was getting damn good at denial.

Jack was pointing something out on the map. “These are concrete walls, it’s not like we can blast through them. If Quinn’s contact doesn’t come through for us, we’re fucked.”

Quinn, looking like a stiff wind would knock her down, merely nodded, face grim. “He’ll be there. Don’t you think I’ve tested his information on smaller issues before trusting him with something like this? He believes that Barrabas’s way is wrong, and that the undead should return to the old ways.”

“Eating people in the shadows?” Ven asked, voice flat.

“No, coexisting with humans without trying to conquer us,” Quinn replied. “He has existed on animal blood for centuries, except for the rare voluntary donation.”

“So he claims,” Conlan pointed out. “No matter. We are committed to proceed on this information. May the gods have mercy on him if he has betrayed us.”

The icy wind that seemed to be Alaric’s calling card swirled through the room, coalesced into his dark form near Conlan. “There are no gods that heed the call of such vermin, save for Anubisa. And I would wish that she would come to his aid, so that I might end her existence.”

“Oh, I’m down with that,” Ven snarled.

Conlan’s voice was calm and utterly lacking in emotion. “If Anubisa should appear, she is mine. Consider this my first royal decree.”

Ven slowly nodded, but Riley noticed that Alaric made no sign of agreement. He simply stared at Quinn with the air of a predator examining its prey.

Or a man sentenced to die regarding his executioner.

She couldn’t quite determine which.

Bastien broke the silence. “I’m not picky. If I have to take them down one by one, the bloodsuckers are going to die.”

“You know the human police and soldiers will protect the Primus, as well. It’s an official house of Congress,” Justice said from a dark corner of the room. Riley hadn’t even known he was back there. She had a sudden insight that he lived much of his life in dark corners.

Another thing to think about later.

“That’s why Daniel is taking us in through the underground passage,” Quinn replied, looking anywhere but at Alaric. “We may have to fight our way through some of Barrabas’s blood pride to get to him, though. Daniel did warn us of that.”

“To the Primus, then. We will retrieve the Trident, and teach these vampires a lesson in interfering with humanity or with the Warriors of Poseidon,” Conlan said, voice ringing through the room. “A lesson that is some two thousand years overdue.”

“Amen to that,” Riley said fervently. Then she put her mug down and touched one hand to the silver cross around her neck. “And may God watch over us.”

Then she thought of the mark on her back. “All of the gods.”

“It’s unlocked. Just like he promised,” Quinn whispered, as she opened the door that had been hidden behind a wall of cleaning products in the basement janitorial closet of a shabby office building. Conlan nodded, gestured to Ven that the two brothers would take point down the dark corridor.

From behind him, Jack let out a low rumbling roar. “I don’t think so. I’m not putting my men in danger—I’m not putting
Quinn
in danger—unless I’m in the front row at the party, boys.”

Conlan paused, nodded. “Join us, then, tiger. But this mission is under my command, as the future of my realm depends upon it. If you cannot agree to that, you will remain behind.”

The shape-shifter’s eyes glowed a fierce golden color. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

Alaric waved a hand, almost nonchalant. “That would be me.” The priest walked to stand in front of the shape-shifter, who was frozen in place, unable even to speak.

“Even at the dawning of the full moon’s eve, my power exceeds yours. Do you challenge me, or do you work with us?” His voice was bored, as if the enormous weretiger were of no consequence.

But Jack must have made some kind of signal, because Alaric spoke a single word and released him.

Jack rolled his shoulders, not looking at all pleased. But he acquiesced. “Yeah, I’ll go along with your command, Conlan. As long as nothing you do puts Quinn in danger, I’m your man. For this one mission, at least.”

Conlan bared his teeth in a grimace. “If you think that I would allow either Riley or her sister to be harmed, you seriously underestimate me,” he snarled. “And nobody who underestimates me usually lives long enough to regret it.”

“If we’re done with the pissing contest, let’s go,” Quinn said, reaching out for Riley with one hand and pulling a very deadly looking gun out of her pocket with the other. “People to meet, vamps to blow away, et cetera, et cetera . . .”

Conlan stopped, stepped close to Riley. “You stay behind us, do you hear me? You point that gun at anything undead that moves, and you stay out of danger. Promise me that.”

“But—”

“
Promise
me, or I call it off now, and we’ll go live on a farm in Iowa or something. Atlantis be damned.”

She managed a shaky smile. “I’m allergic to cow poop. I promise.”

He nodded, and took the first step down the corridor. The first step leading Riley into danger. The hardest step he’d ever taken.

As Quinn had predicted, three vamps guarded the corridor at about the midway point. Conlan channeled water and shot a horizontal wall of ice at them, decapitating them before they had time to sound any alarm.

Jack let out a low whistle. “Nice trick, prince. I’m glad to have you on my team. This is going to be a cakewalk.”

“There will be more than three, tiger. Don’t grow too complacent.” Conlan moved further along the dark corridor, searching for any crack of light that would indicate an opening. Another hundred or so yards down the tunnel, they came across a more heavily guarded passageway.

This time, Alaric called the electric power of lightning and shot bolts of pure energy at them, incinerating five of the six. Ven’s dagger caught the sixth in the heart, and it collapsed, sizzling down into nothingness.

“Holy water on the blades. Works every damn time,” Ven observed with satisfaction. He retrieved his dagger and wiped it off on a rag he drew from his pocket, then tossed the rag on the ground. “Somehow don’t mind littering in the vamp’s backyard.”

Conlan held up a hand for silence. “I think it may be the vamps’ front yard, in fact, if the sound of screaming is any indication.”

He waited while they all strained to pick up on what his Atlantean hearing had already caught. Someone was being tortured.

And somebody else was doing a damn thorough job of it.

 
The instincts that had served him well for nearly three thousand years were telling Barrabas that something was wrong. He just couldn’t figure out
what
.

He should have been well content. The Atlantean called Micah was bleeding on the floor in front of him, near death, and Barrabas could still taste Micah’s blood in his mouth. Reisen hadn’t found his way back to consciousness since Drakos had smashed his head into the wall.

And yet, a tiny niggling tremor of doubt snaked through him. He stared at Drakos, who gazed implacably back at him. The general had outlived his usefulness. No battle strategy, no matter how brilliant, was worth this constant suspicion.

Especially for one who was not even of his blood pride. Thinking of them made him reach out to them with his mind. Reassurance from his guards would go a long way toward . . .

There was no response.

Nothing in his mind but a blank space where his vanguard should be. He whipped his head around to find Drakos.

Who stood near the chamber door, smiling.

“Your reign is over, damned one,” Drakos said. “Prepare to meet the future.”

Before Barrabas could utter a sound, Drakos yanked the door open, and a swarm of warriors poured through. The one in front had hair and eyes as black as the deepest hell, and death was written on his face.

“I am Conlan of Atlantis, Barrabas,” the warrior shouted out. “Prepare for your death!”

No, no mere warrior. Not with that regal air of command.

This must be the prince. Barrabas hissed, called out with every ounce of his being to Anubisa.