Free Atlantis Redeemed by Alyssa Day

needn’t have worried. She believed him completely, but of course he couldn’t know why. Nobody knew why.
    She had no choice but to believe him. She was a walking lie detector.

    Brennan had no hope that she would forgive him, or even stay long enough to hear the rest of his tale. How could she possibly trust him now? After what he’d done to her? He waited, holding on to the flimsy chair as if it could anchor him. Stop him from rushing to her to plead forgiveness. She had no idea that his sanity hung, precariously balanced, on the edge of her decision.
    “Go ahead, then,” she said, making a circular motion with her hand. “Tell me about this curse.”
    The blood rushed from his head in a great wave until he felt light-headed with it. She believed him. She would let him explain. That was enough. It had to be enough. The rest was up to him.
    “You were at the ‘innocent maid’ part of the story, if I recall.” The hint of a smile twitched at the edges of her lips, and he stared at her mouth, fascinated, focused on how much he would surrender to see her smile, until she cleared her throat. “Brennan?”
    “I have never told the story in its entirety to anyone,” he said abruptly. “You will be the first, which is only fitting, since you are involved in the curse’s fulfillment.”
    When it was obvious she was going to speak, he shook his head, forestalling the questions that she must have. “It’s better if I get this out all at once. Then you can decide if you can bear to have me in your presence.”
    She frowned but subsided and leaned back in the chair.
    “I know you learned a little about us when you were in Atlantis so briefly before. As Prince Conlan and the Lord Vengeance probably told you, we are the Warriors of Poseidon. We all swear fealty to the sea god himself in a ceremony that originated more than eleven thousand years ago. As Poseidon’s chosen elite, we are held to the highest standards of duty, honor, and conduct. However, I failed in all three of these,” he said, barely able to speak the words. He jumped up to pace around the room, veering away from her when she flinched a little at his approach.
    “I was a drunken ruffian. I spent much of my free time, and even time that I should have been training, drinking wine in Rome, carousing with women, and, to put it bluntly, behaving like an ass.”
    Images from those days flashed in his mind, as vivid as if they had occurred only weeks before. He shoved a hand through his hair and pushed it away from his face and then turned to pace to the other side of the room.
    “There was a girl. A woman,” he hastily corrected himself. “She was so seductive, and I was more than willing. She was a senator’s daughter. I thought—I thought our alliance was simply a pleasurable diversion.”
    “You had a fling?” Tiernan asked, her expression solemn, although he thought he saw a hint of mischief dancing in her glorious whiskey-dark eyes. The rest of his tale would kill her amusement.
    “We were caught,” he said flatly. “I offered to marry her. She didn’t want me, and in any event, her father said I was unsuitable. There was a scandal and the sea god . . . well. Poseidon was not pleased.”
    “You took the hit, huh?” Her voice was warm, almost as if she had sympathy for him.
    He did not want her sympathy. He could never deserve it.
    “He cursed me. He cursed me with such an unforgiving and unending curse that I have spent more than two thousand years of my life unable to feel any emotion.” Rage, rage that he could finally feel after so long without it, seared through his blood. “Two thousand years ,” he repeated, and then he bitterly recited the words that had been burned into his memory in that tavern back room:
    “‘For all eternity, until such time as you can meet your one true mate, you will feel no emotion. Neither sadness nor joy; neither rage nor delight.
    “‘When you do meet her, you will experience a resurgence of all of