Free Warriors of Poseidon 01 - Atlantis Rising by authors_sort Page B

fleetingly crossed Reisen's face. The denizens of the night. The archaic language reminded him that Micah hadn't spent much time out of Atlantis. And yet, it was chillingly accurate.
     
    "To Atlantis, then, Micah," he said, holding his own dagger high in the air. "To restoring the glory and supremacy of Atlantis."
     
    The rest of his warriors, who'd entered the room as he and Micah spoke, raised their daggers above their heads in unison.
     
    "To Atlantis!" they shouted in unison. "To Mycenae!"
     
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    Reisen smiled. Yes, to Atlantis and Mycenae. And to his own ascension to the throne of a newly restored Atlantis.
     
    "To Mycenae," he roared.
     
    Then he glanced yet again at the bundle on the table, struck by a glimpse of motion and flickering light.
     
    "I must have imagined it," he muttered, words drowned out by his warriors' thundering shouts.
     
    Because, just for a split second, the velvet had seemed to glow.
     
    "Are you out of your royal mind?" Taking a break from pacing and swearing viciously in ancient Atlantean, Latin, and a little-used dialect once heard near Constantinople, Ven stopped in front of his brother, hands fisted on his hips.
     
    Conlan sighed, not knowing whether to award his brother battle medals for creativity, or order Justice to arrest the King's Vengeance for treason.
     
    I could flip a coin…
     
    Conlan stepped in close to Ven, invading the nine hells out of what Ven liked to call his personal space. "I did not ask for your judgment upon my actions. I merely described a possible threat to our warriors. If more humans have the capacity to incapacitate us with emotional telepathy—"
     
    He didn't mention that he'd left out a hell of a lot in the telling. There was no threat to Atlantean security regarding his fierce attraction to her.
     
    Admit it, attraction is a tame word. Try overwhelming, ball-breaking lust.
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    He blew out a breath. Even princes were allowed some privacy, right?
     
    Ven shook his head in disgust, then resumed pacing and cursing. Conlan tuned him out after he heard something about "spawn of a dung beetle" in early Portugese and turned to Alaric, who had remained uncharacteristically silent during Conlan's explanation of the evening's events.
     
    Alaric speaking was dangerous enough.
     
    Alaric silent was deadly.
     
    The priest stared at him, unblinking, seeming almost inhuman in his stillness. If ever a man had seemed unsuited to the priesthood, Conlan would have named Alaric.
    Matching Conlan in height, Alaric's heavily muscled form suited the lethal menace in his eyes.
     
    No schoolboy would ever seek him out to tell tales of childish mischief in the confessional, for certain. And yet it was rumored that more than one woman, seduced by Alaric's dark beauty, had harbored hopes of convincing the dark priest to… bend…
    his vow of celibacy.
     
    Conlan nearly laughed at the thought. It was well known that Poseidon would strip the powers from a priest who breached his celibacy vow. Power was Alaric's only mistress; no female could come between him and his quest for ever more of it.
     
    As if reading his prince's mind, Alaric bared his teeth in a cold pretense of a smile. "I agree with Conlan."
     
    "Look, I—what?" The agreement threw him off.
     
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    "You heard me," Alaric returned, face expressionless. "You want to follow this human to her home to ensure her safety. You demand we transport her to Atlantis as your…
    guest. I agree with you."
     
    Ven exploded. "Great. Now I have two of you out of your freaking minds. I'd have expected better of you, Temple Rat."
     
    Alaric's gaze shifted smoothly to Ven, and something whispering of deadly danger shimmered in his eyes. "I am high priest to the sea god now, Lord Vengeance. It is time we put away childish…