MARCH IN ATLANTIS: A POSEIDON'S WARRIORS NOVEL

by Alyssa Day

  She nodded, pressing her lips together against the other descriptive words she had for Brock. Bully. Monster. Predator.

  And then she had to remind herself that it was over. She would never let him hit her again. He sure as hell wasn't getting his hands on her daughter.

  "Then he was a very poor alpha," Lucas pointed out. "Pack members would never dare to harm the mate of a true alpha."

  She considered that for a while. "You're right. I guess I never thought of it like that, because I didn't know that much about how shifter packs worked. But, the couple of times we had parties where other packs were there, I did notice that their alphas led with a great deal more assertiveness and a lot less violence and punching."

  "Alpha, in its truest form, never means asshole, or domineering sadist. It means one whose top priority is the welfare of his or her pack. Some of the strongest alpha shifters I've ever met are the female alphas, because they're not as boneheaded and narcissistic as some of the males can be."

  She glanced at him. "It sounds like you know a lot about shifters."

  He blew out a breath. "Shifters, vampires, the Fae, witches, mages, and Santa Claus. You learn a lot when you're Atlantean."

  "Mermaids?"

  He laughed. "Why do humans always ask us that? No, mermaids don't exist. There were Nereids, which gave rise to the rumors, and there are sirens and banshees, but not actual mermaids like your fairytale characters. "

  She thought about that and then remembered something else. "Wait. Santa Claus?"

  "Of course. He's a winter Fae. How else did you think he could get around the world in one night?"

  She had no idea if he were joking or telling the truth, and when she looked at him he was grinning mischievously, which didn't really tell her anything, so she decided to let it go until she could Google it. Stevie he would lose her mind if she ever…

  Stevie.

  "We need gas," she said abruptly.

  When Rhiannon walked out of the gas station with more drinks and snacks, and another fruitless inquiry about whether the guy inside had seen her daughter, she found Lucas glaring at the gas pump.

  "You could take it," she said, almost smiling despite another crushing blow, because Wow.

  With sunlight glinting on his hair and lighting his gray eyes to silver pools, she was struck all over again by how beautiful he was. He looked fresh and clean, too, while she looked like she'd been living under a bridge, after the night in the cage and all these hours in the car. She probably smelled bad, too, and he still smelled like a tantalizing mix of salt, sandalwood, and just a hint of something else—a spice she didn't recognize. Maybe it was Atlantean aftershave. Or did Atlanteans even shave? He didn't have any beard scruff, still, and they'd been together for nearly two full days.

  Life was totally unfair. But at least she'd purchased deodorant. She didn't care how tired she looked, but she didn't want to smell so bad she scared her daughter.

  "There's no place to insert the cash," Lucas told her, startling her out of her odor-related thoughts. He thrust a handful of hundred-dollar bills at her and made a go-ahead motion with his hand. "I can see by your expression that you're mocking me, because this is yet another human invention I don't understand. Remember, however, that I can fly, and you can't."

  She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, so you keep telling me. All these amazing Atlantean things you can do, and so far, I've only seen a few pretty water tricks. But, okay, Captain Amazing, move aside. This takes human magic."

  He stared at her suspiciously but moved aside without further comment. She dumped the bags of snacks, drinks, and deodorant in the car and pulled out her credit card.

  "Ta-da!" With that, she put her card in the slot, entered her ZIP Code, and started pumping gas.

  Lucas folded his arms and scowled. "I could've done that. I have a credit card."

  "Yes, but the machine might've self-destructed if you put that fancy gold card in it. Seriously, is it made from real gold?"

  "Who cares? Why would that matter if it won't get the gas you need to make the car go?"

  She didn't exactly know the answer to that, so she finished pumping gas, showed him how to wait until the nozzle stopped dripping before removing it from the tank, returned the nozzle, closed the gas cap, and brushed her hands off on her pants. Come to think of it, her clothes were starting to be grubby, too, and she really wished she could walk through the car wash, but they didn't have time to stop anywhere for showers. They had to get to Stevie.

  Lucas opened the passenger door for her. "My turn to drive."

  She grabbed her go-bag. "In a minute. First, I have a date with a toothbrush and some deodorant."

  He rubbed his chin. "Not a bad idea. Do you have an extra toothbrush?"

  She picked up one of the plastic bags she'd just tossed in the car. "Three. And here's toothpaste. Do you want to borrow my deodorant?"

  He looked totally baffled. "What's deodorant?

  When she explained, he raised one eyebrow. "I have water magic. I don't need deodorant."

  "Sure." There was no way she was discussing the intricacies of Atlantean hygiene, especially since he must be telling the truth. She leaned closer.

  "Did you just…sniff me?"

  "Oh, shut up. Here's your toothbrush."

  When they got on the road ten minutes later, he pointed at the pile of bags. "Food?"

  "Junk food. Gas stations don't have real food, although I saw one advertising sushi once. Now there's salmonella waiting to happen."

  He gave her one of those "humans are confusing" looks but said nothing.

  "You want more Doritos, don't you? That's how it goes. One chip, and you're addicted.”

  "Definitely not,” he said firmly. "I refuse to become addicted to anything. Addiction causes loss of control, and I'd never allow that."

  "Well, we still have just under half of a three-thousand-mile drive to go, so maybe you could unpack that statement for me."

  He looked over at her. "Speaking of that, tell me again why didn't you take an airplane? I know you humans love those. It seems that it would be a much faster way to get to Seattle."

  "It would be, but as I said before, the wolves don't like to fly. And I still have hope we can catch up to them along the way."

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. When he spoke again, it sounded as though he were forcing out each word. "I apologize for failing you. If I hadn't been through multiple injuries and healing, I would have had sufficient energy and magic to be able to fly you myself to find this car carrying your daughter."

  She was dumbfounded. "Do you think—how can you think you're failing me? You're the only one who's offered to help me in so many years I can't even count them. Lucas, please. You don't have to apologize to me, I should be thanking you. I know you have important things to do… Oh, my gosh. I'm an idiot. I never even asked you how it went at the Humanity Prime compound. Did you find your friends? Did you rescue those people?”

  He nodded and told her an almost unbelievable story about his friends the Atlanteans, a werewolf prince of Europe, and his friend's girlfriend who turned into a falcon and flew a bomb out a window to save a roomful of children.

  "There were casualties, but on the whole, it turned out well. We saved most of the innocents, and any remaining shifters were taken into custody for attempted murder--and actual murder, because they did manage to force the Transition on several of the H Prime leadership. All in all, it could've been far worse," he concluded somberly.

  "I can see how that's true," she said, dazed. "But it's pretty strange that you talk about me being brave when your friend's girlfriend--"

  "Savannah.”

  "Yes, Savannah, she actually turned into a falcon during her very first Transition and flew a freaking bomb out a freaking window?"

  "Saving a room full of children," he helpfully reminded her.

  Her shoulders slumped. "Yeah, I can see how that would set the standard for bravery pretty high."

  It was ti
me for some self-confidence-restoring junk food, so she tore into a plastic-wrapped package of beef jerky and bit off a hunk.

  He looked at her, his eyes darkening. "You were driving across country by yourself, in a decrepit car, to take on a werewolf pack. I'd say you have nothing to worry about in the courage department. Also, that does not look like actual food in any way."

  "It wasn't decrepit, it was sabotage," she muttered, but she couldn't deny the warming effect his praise had on her spirit. He was right. She was braver than she'd ever been in her life, and she was going to get Stevie back. She held out the beef jerky. "Try a bite."

  "Not a chance," he said, making a face like she'd said, "Here, try some sea slug." Although, come to think of it, maybe Atlanteans liked that sort of thing. "Do you eat sea slugs?"

  He sighed. "Where do you come up with these things? It's very scary inside your mind, isn't it?"

  "Um. Maybe a little…"

  After that, they drove in silence for a while. Her mind was churning; spinning like a hamster on a wheel. She prayed and prayed for Stevie to be okay, and that she'd soon have her child back in her arms. She worried about how only the two of them would get through the shifters to rescue Stevie—Lucas was tough, but he wasn't a match for an entire werewolf pack. She worried about what she would do when she saw Brock again.

  She worried about what Brock would do to her.

  And, more than she wanted to, she thought about a ridiculously beautiful Atlantean warrior who was kind enough to calm frightened children and strong enough to comfort a terrified mother who'd lost her child. She glanced at him from beneath her lashes and had to smile when she saw him furtively reach for another chip. With his face unguarded for the first time since she'd first encountered him in that cage, she could almost see the boy he must've been, and something twisted inside her to think about what he must have gone through to make him so afraid of losing control.

  "Tell me about your childhood," she prompted, and he snatched his hand away from the Doritos bag. "What was it like growing up in Atlantis?"

  A shadow crossed his face, but he said nothing. She waited him out instead of rushing to fill the silence. Sometimes, people needed time to decide what to say. Candor and intimate conversation drowned in mindless chatter.

  "I don't wish to discuss it," he finally said.

  "Okay." The last thing she'd do was push him. She shrugged and turned on the radio, stopping at a station that was playing a Fleetwood Mac song. She'd always loved "Go Your Own Way." Maybe it was good luck--maybe it was even a sign. She decided to choose to believe so, because it might help keep her from losing her mind. She quietly hummed along, singing a little with the chorus.

  "I like your singing," Lucas said abruptly, a dark flush rising in his cheeks. Apparently, the man didn't have a lot of practice complimenting women. Or maybe even talking to women or talking to anyone. He was giving off a loner vibe.

  "Thank you. I've been singing along to their songs forever. What kind of music do you like?"

  He shrugged. "I am particularly fond of Atlantean harp music, and also your Bruce Springsteen.”

  She started laughing. "I bet that's the first time in the history of the world that anybody put Bruce Springsteen and Atlantean harp music in the same sentence.”

  "Perhaps, but that doesn't make it less true. There's a certain poignancy to both."

  "Well, when this is all over, and I have my daughter back, I'll have to look up some Atlantean harp music on iTunes or something." When she had her daughter back, which needed to be very, very soon. She told herself to focus on the fact that they would find Stevie, rescue her, and take her far, far away from Brock, Tannis, and anyone else who wanted to separate them.

  "You are a good mother. I can tell. Did you have good parents?"

  Rhiannon smiled. "The best. They're both gone now, but they loved me. I was devastated when they died. Car crash. How about you?"

  "My father was power hungry. All he ever wanted was to find a way to claim the throne," Lucas said flatly. "So, when he thought he had, he went for it, with no consideration as to how it would affect his family. My mother left him over it."

  Rhiannon knew her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn't help it. Traitor to the throne? This man did not have simple problems. Also, it suddenly felt like she was in the middle of some twisted fairytale. She concentrated hard on not saying anything stupid and simply waited in silence. A few minutes later, he sighed.

  "A few years ago, my father, Reisen, decided the leadership of Atlantis was in peril. The king, who was then still the high prince, had been abducted by the vampire goddess Anubisa and had been missing for seven years, presumed dead by almost everyone. Everyone except for the high priest, Alaric, and Conlan's brother, Ven, who serves as the king's vengeance. My brilliant father took this as a sign that he needed to take Poseidon's Trident and figure out how to use it for his own ascension to the throne, since he was a descendant of one of the ruling families of ancient Atlantis. You can probably imagine how that went over with Alaric, Ven, and Conlan's elite guard. He's lucky to be alive."

  Rhiannon sucked in a breath. Holy crap. "I bet Poseidon wasn't very happy, either," she joked, but the look he sent her was not amused.

  "No, he was not. Which is why I found it so hard to believe that he would allow me to be one of his warriors, after with my father did."

  "Wait. We're talking about the actual Poseidon? The sea god? Rides around in a chariot pulled by seahorses?" She couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, but Lucas never broke stride.

  "Of course. Except that thing about the seahorses. That would be ridiculous."

  "Sure. That would be ridiculous, on a day where you asked for fifty million dollars, foiled a bank robbery, and are driving across country with a woman you don't even know to help her save her child from a hundred or so of the most dangerous wolf shifters on the west coast. But, yeah, sure, seahorses would be ridiculous." She flung her hands in the air. "Totally crazy."

  Rhiannon shoved a Dorito in her mouth, and she didn't even like them. After she ate it and then drank some soda to wash out the nasty taste, she tried again. "So that must've made your life difficult lately. Wow. Talk about an understatement. He was a traitor to the crown – because of course, as we know, King Conlan came back – and he stole something from an actual god. That couldn't have been fun for you."

  A muscle was jumping in Lucas's jaw. "Not…fun. Yes. It was the farthest from fun that anything could possibly be. Conlan decided to forgive my father, so he didn't go to prison, or wind up executed, but I spent the past few years with the stain of his misdeeds coloring my every move. People were not… forgiving. Not even my mother."

  He cleared his throat. "I offered repeatedly to become one of Poseidon's Warriors to make up for my father's treason, but they turned me down flat. After about half a year of that, I gave up and escaped through the portal and spent quite a lot of time traveling around your world, where no one knew or cared what my father had done. It was the freest time of my life."

  Rhiannon's heart hurt. She tried to imagine someone treating Stevie in such away because of something she--or, worse, Brock--had done, and it broke her heart into pieces. Lucas had put up with the worst possible stigma, treason against the crown, in a society that took its royalty very seriously. "And so, you learned not to trust anyone, because of how you were treated," she said, reaching out to take his hand.

  He allowed it, but only for a moment, before pulling away. His face closed until he wore an expressionless mask. "Don't pity me, Rhiannon. I learned a hard lesson about the truth of the world: Never trust and never let anyone close. People will always unfairly judge you, condemn you, and cast you out. It's far wiser and more realistic to be prepared for it than to live under a false cloud of foolish optimism."

  The worst part was that she agreed with every word. But, still…"I think—"

  "You should rest," he said, speaking over her. "We have a long trip in front of us, according to
your device. If you rest now, you'll be able to drive later while I rest, so that I can be completely healed before the upcoming confrontation."

  The confrontation. Stevie. Yes, she should rest, and quit questioning this undeniably fascinating Atlantean about his life. She didn't need to know more about him, or feel sympathy for him, or even care about him in any way. He'd leave as soon as they rescued her daughter, anyway, and she didn't want to spend even one minute missing him when he was gone.

  Rhi had learned the hard way; the knowledge had cost her a heavy price in pain and blood—in bruises and broken bones. She'd never again trust anyone to be near her daughter. She'd been betrayed again and again, she'd been beaten, and her daughter had been stolen from her. Never again would she let anyone into her inner circle.

  If you trust, you'll be betrayed, as simple as that, and it would be her new motto to live by. She hardened her heart against any empathy it might feel for Lucas and simply nodded.

  "Yes. You're right. Wake me in a couple of hours, so I can take over." Stupidly, she found herself still wanting to reach over and hold his hand, but this time she knew better.

  She'd finally learned the best and most important lesson of her life: Never, ever trust anyone, ever again.

  17

  Whidbey Island, Washington, eighteen hours later, mid-afternoon…

  "I don't want to stay in the damn motel," Rhiannon protested, while he pushed her into the room.

  He gritted his teeth and tried to remember that she was exhausted, scared, and missing her child, because if he didn't, her stubbornness might drive him over the edge. He was tired, too, and that made for a volatile combination.

  He closed the door behind them and locked it and then leaned back against it. "Look. I understand your impatience, but if they see you, they'll be ready for us, and I believe that the element of surprise is our only chance here."

  She slammed her bags down on the hideous orange-and-purple bed coverings and then glared at him. If looks could kill, he'd already be vampire dust.