by Alyssa Day
“If you don’t drive me to drink or madness within the year, I will count myself exceedingly lucky,” Alaric said slowly, and she realized he was clutching his head as if he were in pain.
“You know, I could say the same thing about you, Mr. I Must Do the Dangerous Stuff Alone,” she shot back at him. “Also, feel free to heal my head, because I think Ptolemy gave me a concussion in addition to this split lip, and playing Mission: Impossible didn’t help any.”
His aggravation instantly turned to concern, and he sent healing magic through her face and head, and then through her entire body for good measure, and she suddenly felt as if she could take on the world all over again.
“I will kill him,” Alaric said, and although she had her pick of contestants, it was a safe bet he was talking about Ptolemy.
“There’s one you can check off your list.” She told him about the atrocities and the sight of Ptolemy being stabbed through the chest.
“It might not have been his heart,” she added, considering the demons’ questionable anatomy. “But even so, they didn’t seem like the type to help a guy when he was down. He’s probably lunch.”
“None deserved it more,” Alaric said flatly. “I only regret I was not able to kill him myself. You have an annoying habit of getting yourself out of trouble.”
She grinned. “Rebel leader, remember? Although, not anymore. Maybe we can have a nap and then decide what to do with the rest of our lives.”
The clamor and pounding at the door grew louder. Alaric waved a hand, and the door burst inward under the weight of half a dozen warriors and many other people, both men and women.
“What’s happening?” Conlan said, pushing to the front. “Alaric, I’m going to kick your ass if you ever do that to me again.”
“As you see,” Alaric began, except then, naturally, something did start to happen.
“You don’t have some kind of ritual?” Quinn asked nobody in particular, but she forgot her question as the Trident levitated into the air and rotated until it was standing on its base, with its three prongs pointing up. An arrow of light shot out of each of its tines, and the three streams joined together to form a shining column of pure white light that was headed straight for the ceiling.
Quinn immediately saw a potential problem. “Um, is there a skylight?”
“No,” Alaric said, and she prepared to jump out of the way of falling stone, but just as everyone started moving toward the door, the ceiling of the temple opened like the petals of a flower. The tower of light shot up and up, straight past the top of the temple and up to what must be the ceiling of the dome.
“Oh, boy,” Quinn said. “If that blasts through the dome, when we’re underwater . . .”
This time it was Myrken who answered her. “No, my lady, this is exactly what the ancient scrolls say is supposed to happen. We should go outside for this.”
They all raced outside, and the ground gave a jarring lurch right underneath their feet, like an earthquake. Quinn grabbed for Alaric’s hand.
“Look,” he said, pointing.
She looked, and saw the most spectacular sight. Atlantis was rising. The water movement outside the dome, and the way they lifted up and passed first a whale and then a school of lighted fish, proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Atlantis was, in fact, actually rising.
A huge cheer rang out, and everyone started hugging and laughing. Quinn was too practical and far too skeptical for that.
“Will the fractured dome survive the pressure changes as it rises, or are we in for a massive continental case of the bends?”
Alaric smiled, and it was a real smile, the one that felt like a gift to her heart.
“I can only guess what this ‘bends’ means, but the Trident’s power is far more than enough to accomplish this ascension. The rest of us can relax now.”
She threw her arms around Alaric and kissed him, right there on the temple steps, in front of the gods and everyone.
“We did it,” she said. “We actually did it!”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said, and his saying so was another gift, the best present ever.
“How long will it take? Do we need to help it along?”
Alaric smiled. “I think you’ve done enough, my fierce one. It will be at least ten hours before we reach the surface. Right now, I suggest we find something to eat and get some rest.”
“And a shower,” she added.
He groaned. “I’m not sure I can take any more of imagining you in the shower.”
She grinned at him. “Who said you have to imagine it?”
They raced each other to his rooms.
Chapter 29
Alaric slammed the door to his rooms shut behind them and sealed them with the most powerful ward he knew how to create. Nobody was getting in that door. He thought about it for a moment and then added soundproofing.
Quinn stripped out of her borrowed shirt and pants on the way to the bathroom and then turned around and smiled at him, standing there in nothing but a few strategically placed scraps of lace. He almost swallowed his tongue.
She bit her lip and then grinned. “Didn’t take me for a girly underwear kind of woman, did you?”
He couldn’t answer her, because his brain and his vocal cords had both quit working. In fact, nothing on his body seemed to be functioning, since he was literally frozen in place, or at least so he thought, until his pants started pressing into his crotch.
Ah.
She bit her lip again. “Are we really going to do this? Remember the Elders.”
“The Elders can go fuck themselves,” he growled, and she started laughing.
“I have given Poseidon my resignation from the office of high priest. If, in fact, giving up my celibacy means that I have given up my magic, I will mourn it for a fraction of a second, and then I will roll over and kiss every inch of your body again.”
She smiled at him but still didn’t move. “What will you do with your life if you can’t be a magical warrior?”
“I’ll raise peacocks and roses in the palace garden,” he said, trying to jest, forcing himself not to move, when every fiber of his being cried out for him to leap across the room. “I’ve always thought I’d look good in one of those floppy hats.”
“I hope that’s all you’ve got that’s floppy,” she said, and then she unfastened her bra and dropped it to the floor, right before she stepped out of her lace bottoms.
Alaric lost all ability to focus on anything else, and he stalked her to the bathroom, stripping off his own clothes as he went.
She stepped into the shower and started adjusting dials, and clouds of steam billowed out into the room.
“This is a wonderful shower, I hope you know that.”
Words. She was making words, when she was naked. And she had that body. And those small, firm breasts. And an ass that made his mouth water. All naked, too.
“Want,” he said. “Need. Now.”
She took his hand and pulled him into the shower with her. “Okay, Tarzan. I want you, too.”
Just before he kissed her, he confessed to a horrible truth. “Quinn, this isn’t going to last long. It has been a really, really long time.”
She smiled and put her arms around him, and all he could do was feel the glory of her body against his. It wasn’t a mirage, or an illusion, or a fantasy created by his lonely mind during a long, dark night. She was really here, in his arms.
Quinn.
His body touched hers, and the feel of her was a miracle and a promise and a blessing. Skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. He wanted, and he needed, but just for this moment, the simple touch of her silken skin calmed the beast he’d become when he thought he’d lost her.
He stroked her arms, her back, and the smooth curve of her hip, while
kissing the softness of her cheek and the graceful length of her neck and pulling her closer to him. Always closer. She put her hands in his hair and pulled his head back from her shoulder so she could kiss him, and he slanted his head to take her mouth. He drove his tongue into her mouth like he wanted to drive his cock into her body, balancing on the edge of losing control, and she gasped, a tiny, hiccupping sound that inflamed him to the point of madness.
Control shattered and restraint vanished. Alaric dropped his head to her perfect, perfect breasts and sucked the rosy tip of one into his mouth. Quinn cried out and he was fiercely glad—fiercely triumphant—this perfect woman wanted him, too, and everything was absolutely and completely right with his world.
He lifted her up and set her lovely ass on the ledge that surrounded the shower, which clearly had been built with her in mind, since it put her at exactly the right height for him to bend down and take her other breast into his mouth in its turn. He had an instant of perfect clarity, where he thought that nothing in his life would ever be better than this, and it lasted until she took his hand and put it between her legs, while still kissing him.
When she moaned, he nearly came right then and there.
“I cannot wait much longer, Quinn.”
Her laugh turned into a gasp as his fingers found the secrets of her body. “Who wants you to?”
Quinn thought she might help things along, because Alaric was obviously trying to go slow and make everything wonderful for her, but he was naked in the steamy shower with her and all those hard muscles in his shoulders, chest, legs, and everywhere else on his body, glistening with water droplets, were enough to make any woman lose her mind and beg for satisfaction.
Every nerve ending was tingling; her nipples were hot and swollen from his kisses, and her body pulsed with want that was centered between her thighs. Wonder, relief, and triumph combined in a heady mix inside her until she thought her heart might pound its way out of her chest. She loved him—this crazy, courageous warrior. But now, all she needed was for him to be deep inside her that very minute or she might explode, and she was too shy to say that, so she tried some show-and-tell.
He stroked the cleft between her legs and looked at her in wonder. “You’re so hot and wet and slippery,” he said, probably not even realizing he was talking a little dirty, and the combination of sensation and stimulation sent her body rocketing up the arousal zone until she nearly came in his hand.
“Yes,” she said instead, crying out a little as his clever, clever fingers found delightful places. “More.”
He stroked her and she let her head fall, helpless against the pull of sensation. She was swimming through sensuality, drowning in desire. She wanted him.
She needed him.
Now.
She drew in a shaky breath and gathered her courage, and then she put her hand on his erection. It was his turn to cry out, and he bucked against her and pulled away.
“Quinn, no, I’ll go off like a youngling in your hand,” he said, and the anguish on his face might have been funny if she didn’t feel exactly the same way, so she decided to take charge this first time, and she pulled him closer, wrapped her legs around his waist, and positioned herself just right.
“I’m going to make love to you now,” she whispered, suddenly shy at being so brazen, but she ignored the heat in her face because the expression of total awe and love on his face was all she needed to see. She lowered herself onto his thick, hard shaft, suddenly wondering if he’d even fit, but there was a will, so she’d definitely find a way. Slowly, slowly, she fit herself around him, and the tight filling sensation drove her crazy, so she pushed down a little faster than she’d meant to, and he groaned.
She froze. “Am I hurting you?”
His wolfish grin was all the answer she needed, and in fact her warrior priest was a quick study, because he grabbed her butt in those big hands and started thrusting into her so hard and so fast that she started coming immediately—it had been so long, so very long, and she’d wanted Alaric for what seemed like forever—and as she cried out and her body shattered apart around him, he thrust one final time, deeper than before, and then he roared out as he came inside her.
A prism of color and light flared around them, sparkling fireworks of magic spinning through the water of the forgotten shower, and Quinn leaned against Alaric as she tried to relearn how to breathe.
“Oh, mi amara,” he said, over and over and over, still standing locked inside her. “You have given me the greatest gift of all.”
“Oh, it gets better,” she said, when she could manage to speak again, and he grinned down at her.
“I meant your love, but now I’m ready for you to show me better.”
“Right now? My, you Atlanteans are quick to recover,” she said, running her hands down the hard muscles of his glorious chest. “I’m not sure I’ll survive it if we try for more. Now? Really?”
“Yes, now,” he said, getting that intent look on his face again as he reached for crystal bottles of what looked like soap and bath oils. “I want to make you scream again.”
And so he did.
Alaric stared up at the ceiling, sated and a little dazed from his third climax, and Quinn’s fifth or sixth, and he wondered how and why he’d ever thought anything in the world was worth giving up this. Quinn lay curled up next to him, her arm over his chest and one leg across his, and he thought he had never been so perfectly content simply to be still—present in the moment—in his entire life.
But then he thought that he wanted to try to make her come with just his mouth and hands.
He turned his head to look at her, and she shook her head. “Oh, no. Not again. Alaric, you’re insane. I’m not Atlantean, and I don’t have your magical powers of recuperation. If you don’t let me get some rest, I won’t even be able to walk tomorrow.”
“I’m happy to heal you. With my mouth,” he said, flashing his most wicked smile. “I’ll even let you rest. Simply lie still, and I’ll do everything.”
“Oh, this can’t be— Oh. Oh, boy,” she murmured, as his lips closed around one taut pink nipple. “You don’t . . . ah, oh. Oh.”
“You’re a little incoherent,” he informed her, just before he moved down in the bed, pushed her thighs apart, and put his mouth on her. He did as he’d promised and sent a pulse of healing power through her, to soothe any small abrasions he’d caused with his . . . exuberance, and she moaned and arched her body into the air as she came, yet again.
He raised his head and aimed a fierce smile at her. “You can come, as you have just proved. Now you will do so, again.”
“You’re giving me orders, Alaric. Even in bed, you’re—” She cried out and jumped, clutching at the bedsheets with one hand and his hair with the other. “You can’t, we— Oh. Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhh,” she moaned, as he licked and sucked at the pink bud that brought her such pleasure.
He knew the anatomy, of course, but he had never done such a thing, even back in the brief period before his service to Poseidon. He’d had no idea that the act could bring a woman so much satisfaction, but now that he did, he decided to experiment, and he slid two of his fingers inside her while he stroked her with his tongue, and she bucked underneath him again, arching her back, and then she came so hard she screamed his name.
“I have decided to spend the rest of my life giving you orgasms in various beautiful settings, all over the world,” he announced, feeling quite pleased with himself as he realized that her eyes were glazed and she probably hadn’t heard a single word.
“Mine,” he said, kissing his way up her body and then lifting her to lie on top of him, enjoying the blissful expression on her face and the almost-boneless feel of her body, which was limp with pleasure and satisfaction.
“Mine.”
When Quinn floated back down to the bed from wherever that latest earth-shat
tering orgasm had sent her, she found Alaric leaning over her with a glass of water in one hand and a towel in the other.
She took both, but she decided a trip to the shower again was in order, if she could only get her shaky legs to carry her there. When she told him her dilemma, Alaric carried her into the shower and washed every bit of her, which led to him soaping her breasts more carefully and thoroughly than he’d even done a few hours earlier, which ended up with her leaning against the wall, hands on the shower ledge, while he took her from behind. She came again, helplessly, endlessly, and he thrust into her with so much power and passion that the sheer eroticism of his joy in making love to her sent her over the edge once again. He roared—a primal sound filled with so much purely male satisfaction that it made her laugh—and then he came again, hard, and leaned down to pull her back against his chest and embrace her.
But even that simple hug turned into something more, when his fingers couldn’t seem to resist her nipples, and he started to caress her breasts again. She moaned a little, almost in spite of herself, but she grabbed his hand when it started to move down her belly.
“I can’t keep this up,” she said, but she bucked back against him helplessly when he ignored her restraining hand and stroked her again.
“I seem to be able to keep this up quite well,” he said, so proudly—so absolutely, positively male—that she started laughing.
She carefully moved forward and then turned around on suddenly very shaky legs. She stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t swept her up into his arms and carried her back out of the shower, dried her off, and helped her to bed.
“I have to sleep now, or I might die of too much wonderful sex,” she informed him.
“Lovemaking,” he said firmly. “We have been making love, not merely having sex. Do not forget it.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling sleepily and raising two fingers in a mock salute, and then he climbed into bed with her and wrapped his arms around her. She knew nothing but blissful warmth and lovely sleep, until sometime in the middle of the night, when she woke to find him stroking her nipples with his long, sensitive fingers.