by Alyssa Day
She bit her lip, and he immediately released her. He realized he’d do anything to erase the look of distress on her face. Slay vampires. Fight demons.
Carry pumpkins.
He sighed. “What can I do to help?”
“Really?” She flashed a smile over her shoulder as she rushed over to the cart. “That would be amazing. I just need to drop these off, make a last-minute check with the caterer, and then get into costume and be ready to unobtrusively make this party be a smash.”
Liam didn’t even try not to look at her lusciously round ass when she bent over the side of the cart to get another of the jack-o’-lanterns, and he wasn’t embarrassed when she caught him doing it.
“It’s a truly world-class ass,” he said honestly, delighted to see her blush.
Thirty minutes and twice as many pumpkins later, they were down to five more fruit to distribute. Jaime had the perfect place for each jack-o’-lantern on her list, which was frustrating enough, since he’d planned on just dumping them wherever so they could get back to the kissing. However, there was also the time needed to turn on the small, battery-powered lights inside each one.
“You know, we could have asked someone to light these up magically,” he pointed out, lifting out one of the biggest pumpkins for the gazebo nearest Poseidon’s fountain.
Jaime brushed her hair out of her face and glanced up at him, lifting her own pumpkin into her arms. “Really? Can you do that?”
He laughed. “No, not me. That’s not my magic. I could have made you forget you needed to do anything with pumpkins, ever again, though, and right about now I’m regretting that I didn’t.”
“You can do that? Mess with somebody’s memory?” Her eyes widened, and he silently cursed his stupidity. The last thing he’d wanted to do was scare her.
“Only when I must, and—wait. Why is this pumpkin rattling? I think your light must be broken inside or something, Jaime.” He put the fruit down on the edge of the cart and reached for the stem of the carefully carved-out top, which was much wider than the others had been, for some reason.
When he looked into the pumpkin, he hurled the top to the ground and let loose with a sizzling stream of virulently strong curses in ancient Atlantean, as disbelief and then rage tore through him.
He looked up to see Jaime staring at him, her face turning paler by the second. “Liam, what’s wrong? I’m a party planner, and even I wouldn’t react that strongly to a broken light in a decoration.”
He reached into the pumpkin and carefully withdrew the object that had been rattling against the unbroken light. Rays from the afternoon sun slanted down on it, almost as if to highlight the delicate beauty of the thing that in no possible world should have been inside a pumpkin on the bottom of a pile in a cart.
Jaime gasped. “Is that--"
“Queen Riley’s crown,” Liam said grimly. “Somebody is in for a world of pain.”
Jaime shook her head, looking totally bewildered. “I don’t understand. Why is her crown inside a pumpkin? Is it some weird Atlantis tradition, no offense, that you guys hide the royal jewels on Halloween?”
The idea of it momentarily distracted him. “Weird Atlantis tradition? This from the woman carving fruit and dressing people up in costumes that are meant to be frightening? Like vampires and monsters?”
“Don’t forget clowns,” she added. “But, point taken. So I guess this shouldn’t be here. Why--” Her mouth rounded in an O of comprehension. “You think somebody was stealing it? Hiding it in the pumpkin for later?”
“That is exactly what I think, and now we find out who, and this will be the last Halloween they will ever encounter,” Liam replied.
“You don’t—you don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?” Jaime’s hand crept up to her throat. “I swear to you that I’d never--”
“Never have asked me to help with the pumpkins that contained the missing crown?” He shook his head. “Not to mention, Queen Riley is an empath. She’d never have trusted you if you were deceitful or a thief. Believe me.”
He had first-hand knowledge of that. The one time the queen had met his brother had not gone well. He was thankful that neither Riley nor Conlan were the type to judge a man for his family’s crimes.
“Okay. Thank you.” Jaime glanced at the crown, and then at her watch again, clearly torn. “I want to help, but I still need to finish everything on my list. Unless you’re canceling the party over this?”
“Please, please tell me you’re not canceling the party.”
Liam wanted to cancel it. He suddenly fiercely wanted to evict every non-Atlantean except Jaime and never let them back in. How one of them had dared to steal the queen’s crown, he had no idea, but he planned to find out.
Unless it’s not one of the outsiders at all, his conscience sneered at him. It’s probably one of your family members.
No. Hells, no.
If it had been any of his family, he’d kill them himself, and damn the consequences.
“No. King Conlan wouldn’t want us to cancel the queen’s party over this. In fact, he probably wouldn’t want her to know about it at all. So keep quiet, okay? Go and do what you need to do, but not a word about any of this.”
She nodded, but still looked worried. “Of course. Not a word.”
He carefully put the crown inside his shirt and left the pumpkin on the edge of the fountain. “I don’t want to be seen carrying this, in case the culprit or culprits see me, but I need it to be readily available in case Alaric wants to scan it for magical resonance.”
If any of them could play magical detective quickly and easily, it would be the most powerful high priest Atlantis had even known.
Jaime nodded and then took a hesitant step toward him and put her hand on his arm. “Liam. I just—be careful.”
Warmth swept through him like a wave breaking against one of Atlantis’s many beaches. This human female—this charming, bewildering, beautiful human female—was worried about him. He couldn’t find the words to respond, but he gently took her face in his hands and kissed her again. Just a brief pressure of lips; a reassurance and a promise.
“I’ll see you when this is resolved, and we will finish our earlier conversation,” he said, and was rewarded with the hot pink blush that spread over her lovely curved cheeks.
“Caterer,” she blurted out, and then she turned and walked away so fast she was practically running.
“Thieves,” he said, and headed for the palace. Someone was about to be very, very sorry.
4
Atlantis, the throne room
Liam nodded to the guard at the door and strode into the throne room, wondering why the king’s brother, Ven, would be there. Ven, known to friends as a jokester and connoisseur of B monster films, but to enemies as the King’s Vengeance, was lounging on the steps at the base of the throne he’d sworn he’d never take. Nobody had been happier than Ven when Conlan and Riley’s son Aidan was born; he wasn’t the marble columns and gold throne type.
Ven looked up and grinned. “Hey, Liam, what’s up? Hiding from the party, too?”
A second man, one Liam hadn’t seen in a while, leaned against a wall and nodded a hello. Denal, one of Conlan’s elite Seven, had come back from wherever he’d been on mission this time. The usually cheerful warrior had new lines on his face and a hardness to his eyes that Liam recognized very well. He saw it reflected back at him whenever he looked in a mirror. Like Denal, he had seen and done some very bad things, all in the name of fighting the evil that lurked in the dark corners of the world.
All of them had. For the past eleven thousand years, the sea god himself had tasked generations upon generations of his sworn warriors to protect humanity from the monsters that preyed upon them. Even when the portal had been their only way to get to the surface, they’d carried out the mission. Now, when the world was open to all of them, all the time, they were trying to renegotiate their understanding of Atlantis’s place in the world.
“Hi
ding, no, Your Highness,” Liam told Ven. “But somebody has been doing some hiding.”
Ven rolled his eyes. “Call me Your Highness again, and I’ll kick your ass.”
Denal snickered, his grim darkness lightening for a moment. “Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”
Liam didn’t know whether to laugh or duck. He hadn’t spent nearly as much time with either of them as they had with each other, and this had the feeling of a well-worn routine. But he had more important business to discuss than royal titles.
“I’m sorry to report that we have one or more thieves at hand today,” Liam informed them.
“Other than your brother?” Ven’s tone was wry, but Liam could feel the burn of shame crawling up his neck.
“I told him to stay home.” Liam pulled the crown out of his shirt and held it up. “Look what I found. In a fruit.”
“Riley’s crown? Where did you get this?” Ven stood up and took the crown and then sniffed it. “And what in the nine hells is that smell?”
“Pumpkin guts,” Liam said. “Jaime Radcliffe and I--”
Ven raised an eyebrow. “Jaime, huh? I’ve noticed you mooning over the party planner since she got here.”
Liam forced his expression to blankness. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you want to hear about the queen’s crown, or should we talk about our feelings and braid each other’s hair?”
Ven laughed and made a go-ahead motion with the hand not holding the crown.
Liam explained what he and Jaime had found. “Somebody was planning to come back for that pumpkin.”
Denal straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall and pinned Liam with a hard stare. “Yeah. Sounds like an inside job. Maybe somebody who knew the party girl would discover the crown, so he had to pretend to find it first. Maybe somebody who grew up learning how to be a thief over his breakfast eggs.”
Rage smashed through Liam’s self-control like a battering ram, and his fingers automatically twitched toward his dagger.
“Don’t even think about it,” Ven advised in a drawl. “And Denal, shut the hell up. Conlan wouldn’t have named Liam to the Warriors if there was the slightest shred of doubt about his character.”
The temperature in the room instantly dropped about ten degrees, and all three of them swung around to the doorway, knowing who it must be before he even appeared.
“High Priest Alaric,” Liam said, bowing.
“He’s retired from the priest business,” said the small, dark-haired woman who walked in the room with Alaric--his wife, Quinn. She was also retired, from being the co-leader of the North American rebels. Liam spared a thought to wonder which one of them was the more intimidating to outsiders.
“He’s scarier,” Quinn said, as if she’d read his mind. But he knew her gift was that she was an aknasha, an emotional empath, not a mind reader.
Alaric raised a brow, and Quinn smiled at him. “I’m the funny one.”
“Flirt with the warrior at his own risk, my love,” Alaric said, in a voice so full of thunder and darkness that Liam was surprised the walls didn’t shake.
“Isn’t that supposed to be ‘at your own risk,’?” she asked her husband.
“You know I won’t hurt you,” Alaric responded, baring his teeth in a feral smile. “Him, I’ll kill.”
“I would prefer not to die until after I solve this mystery and capture the thief or thieves, my lord,” Liam said.
“Unless he stole it himself,” Denal growled.
Quinn walked up to Liam and stared into his eyes, which made him slightly concerned that Alaric would strike him dead with a magical bolt of lightning at any second.
“Nope,” she said. “He didn’t do it. He’s pissed off and determined to find who did this. He’s also . . . um, never mind.”
She winked at him, and he suddenly had the gut-level certainty that she was reading his feelings for Jaime. Damn empaths.
Ven grinned. “Also what? Riled up after hanging out with Jaime?”
“None of your business, brother-in-law of mine,” Quinn said. “Now, does Riley know about this? Did they steal anything else? Do we have any idea who did it?”
“As usual, your wife cuts through the clutter to get right to the point,” Ven told Alaric.
“I was hoping one of you could determine whether or not more of the queen’s jewels have been taken,” Liam said. “Jaime--Ms. Radcliffe--hopes that you will not cancel the party.”
Quinn whistled. “Oh, no. We definitely can’t cancel the party over this, or Riley will kill us all. She’s gone all in on this shindig.”
Alaric frowned. “I would be happy to call this nonsense off.”
Quinn poked her husband in the side, to Liam’s amazement. Even a few short years ago, the idea that anyone in the former high priest’s five-hundred-year-long life would dare to poke him, let alone get close enough even to touch him, would never have occurred to anyone on the Seven Isles. But now the powerful Alaric stared at Quinn with fierce possessiveness that made Liam ache to feel that much for a woman.
Jaime’s face, her lips swollen from his kisses, popped into his mind, and Quinn coughed. Liam’s face burned, knowing she could feel his emotions with her high-level empath nature.
“Your pardon, my lady, but I would prefer if you stay out of my emotions.”
Quinn smiled ruefully. “I’d prefer it, too, but I’m stuck with it. So quit feeling so much. Just go get her, McHottie.”
Alaric growled and his eyes started to glow hot green. Liam took another step away from Quinn, just in case.
“Oh, relax. It’s what Keely called him, remember?” Quinn said, grinning. “Hey, I don’t mean to be overly casual about this, but is there any chance this is a prank? And speaking of Keely, she’s an object reader. If only she and Justice were here, she could tell us who had the crown last.”
“Justice and Liam in the same room might not be a great idea, given the McHottie thing and Justice’s psycho jealousy, Sis,” Ven said, grinning. “Unless we want to pick pieces of Liam up off the walls.”
“I can hold my own,” Liam said calmly, but the bantering was beginning to get on his nerves. He’d always been a loner and was still unused to the back and forth that clearly was the norm with Conlan, Alaric, and the Seven. “And who would attempt such a thing as a prank? The new queen’s coronation crown is far too important for that.”
Just then, Jaime ran into the room, and Liam automatically started toward her, with some vague notion of protecting her. When she ran straight to him, something that had been tightly clenched inside him eased.
She took a second to catch her breath, then shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a prank. My caterer is missing. Not to be melodramatic, but I kind of suspect foul play. And it gets worse.”
5
Jaime froze, suddenly realizing that she was in the formal throne room, where she’d never spent any time—and didn’t know if outsiders were even allowed in-- surrounded by three of Atlantis’s most dangerous warriors. And one of them was the former high priest that everybody had warned her about. Apparently he ate small children for fun, or something. On second thought, considering the way he was glaring at everybody in the room who wasn’t his wife (and she was the queen’s sister—yikes!), maybe he did eat small children—or at least troublesome party planners.
“How much worse?” Liam asked, looking grim.
“The boats are early. The partygoers are here, now.”
“Send them away,” Alaric commanded, and Jaime flinched, expecting to be smote any second. Or was it smitten? No, that was what she was with Liam.
Ack! No. Wait.
Smited. She was almost sure it was smited. Not that it mattered, and why was she doing the mental ramble polka? Her brain was like a hamster on a wheel—on crack. A crack hamster. Yep. That’s it.
She was totally losing it.
Alaric scowled at her when she didn’t immediately answer, and Liam moved so that he was standing between her
and the priest. Jaime blew out a sigh of relief at first. And then she got mad at herself for being a chicken, defiantly sidestepped Liam’s attempt to stop her, and walked out into the middle of the room.
“Look. You’re all scary and everything, but we have jewel thiefs—um, jewel thieves—and missing caterers to deal with, not to mention the biggest party of my career. So are any of you going to help me, or are you going to keep standing around looking mean and intimidating?” She ran out of air and sucked in a deep breath before noticing that one of the guys she’d just called mean and intimidating was the king’s brother.
Great.
Why not insult the entire royal family while she was at it? It’s not like she wanted to work ever again. She could just sit around, eat bon bons, and watch her career flush down the giant Atlantean toilet.
Ven laughed, though, instead of yelling “off with her head,” and everybody else at least smiled. Even Alaric. Well, the corner of his lips moved a fraction of an inch, but that might be as close as he got to smiling.
In spite of her earlier boldness, she found herself edging closer to Liam. He was openly grinning at her, as if she were a child who’d done something especially clever.
And Quinn? She laughed out loud. “Oh, I’m going to like you a lot, Jaime. You’ve got to have balls or brains to stand up to this lot, and it looks like you’ve got both. Figuratively speaking. And we’re definitely going to help.”
Alaric groaned, his eyes flashing a hot silvery color, and Quinn put her hands on her hips. “Look, buddy, this has nothing to do with Yetis or basilisks, so you can just suck it up and help.”
The other warrior in the room—Denal—laughed at that, and Alaric narrowed his eyes and casually waved a hand. A streak of blue energy shot from the ex-priest’s hand toward Denal and lifted him into the air until he was floating just beneath the chandelier twenty feet above.
“Not funny,” Denal shouted, and this time Ven and Liam both laughed.
Quinn rolled her eyes, but then turned to Jaime, and this time she was all business. “What happened? We know about the pumpkins and the crown.”