by Alyssa Day
She retaliated by scooting down in the bed and taking his penis into her mouth, and he yelled something in Atlantean and his entire body stiffened and went rigid. He dug into the sheets with both hands and continued speaking in a low tone, saying something that sounded beautifully lyrical—either an oath or a promise—and she licked the entire length of his shaft, smiling as whatever it was he was saying grew increasingly more fervent.
“You cannot—”
“Oh, I can,” she interrupted. “Don’t move. This is my turn.”
She took her time with it, driving him to the edge of madness and beyond, as she cupped his firm balls in her hand and sucked on the sensitive tip of his penis with varying pressures, until she found exactly what he liked and exactly what made him lose all vestiges of control.
He cried out again, and she heard her name, and mi amara, and something that sounded a lot like oh, holy shit, and then his entire body went rigid, his penis hardened even further and swelled, and then he came in her mouth.
When she sat up, he looked both extremely blissful and so comically surprised that she fell over sideways on the bed laughing.
“You . . . Oh, by all the gods . . . you . . . But I have never lost control like that,” he finally said, and she kept laughing until he rolled her over and started tickling her, which led to kissing, which led to him lifting her over his body and lowering her to straddle him again, and this time they both cried out when he found his way home.
She was so deliciously sensitive after the marathon of lovemaking that she was right on the edge of sore, and he knew it, of course, since they’d long since opened the barriers between their emotions. He held her tightly, although he moved in long, slow strokes, claiming her as his at the same time he was so careful with her. When pleasure threatened to pass over the line to pain, he reached down between their bodies and gently pinched her between two fingers, and the added pressure sent her off like a rocket. She collapsed on his chest as he came inside her, yet again, and she had a moment to wonder how she’d ever survive the sheer pleasure between them, before unconsciousness claimed her.
When she woke up again, he wasn’t touching any part of her body, which was so different that it startled her into wakefulness. She sat up and scanned the room, only to discover that Alaric wasn’t there. He’d probably gone to find them something to eat, or at least the growling in her stomach hoped so, but hunger pains faded into insignificance as she stared at the new addition to the room.
For some reason, Alaric had brought an amazing light sculpture into the room while she was asleep. It was unbelievably beautiful. Similar to Art Deco in its lines and curves, it also possessed an inner light source that was almost magical and took the piece from simply art to Art, with a capital A. She was quite literally transfixed by it.
Until the light sculpture turned to her and started talking.
“We have a small problem,” it said in Alaric’s voice.
Chapter 30
“If this is how you try to impress a girl, I would have been okay with pancakes and bacon.” Quinn sat up in bed and wrapped the blankets around herself, staring at Alaric the human light sculpture the entire time. “Well. What’s this about? You couldn’t bear to go without a crisis for ten whole hours?”
“I have no idea what this is about.” His voice was deepened and magnified by the magic, and it touched places deep inside her that a voice had no business touching. She shivered and then shook it off.
“Yes, you do. It’s the Nereus thing. Where having great sex, combined with the soul-meld, turns you into an Atlantean super-magician human lightbulb.”
“I don’t think Keely said anything about the quality of the sex,” he said doubtfully, but she couldn’t really read his expression while he was the Atlantean equivalent of the Human Torch.
She blinked. “Are you saying it wasn’t great sex?”
“It was undoubtedly the most spectacular sex in the history of the planet, but I think we have other things to discuss right now.” He raised his arms in the air and actual sparks flew off his skin in an arc of iridescent shimmer.
She whistled, long and low. “That’s actually really freaking cool, but I’m guessing you don’t want to hear that right now?”
“You guess right,” he said.
“Maybe we should ask for help?”
“Who would we ask?” He shrugged and more sparks flew. “People generally come to me with magical problems.”
He stood up and walked toward her, and she stared at him, utterly fascinated in spite of everything. It really was Alaric, but he was incandescent with pure, shining light. He reached out as if to touch her, but she backed away from him.
“No way, buddy. Don’t touch me until we figure this out. You might electrocute me, which would totally ruin my day. Or, worse, it would send some kind of energy beam through me like when you, um, healed me earlier, and I’m not going to try making love to a glowing light stick just yet.”
He laughed, and the resonant sensuality of it sent shivers down her spine.
“Speaking of glowing light sticks,” he said, gesturing.
She couldn’t believe it. He was naked, a fact she’d tried to overlook, what with the glowing, and his very erect penis was glowing, too. It was actually kind of cool, as far as magic went, and she suddenly threw caution to the Atlantean winds, leaned forward, and licked the tip of his jutting erection, just for the fun of watching his response.
He arched his back and groaned, and then he quickly stepped away. “The sensation is far too intense like this. I don’t think I could bear it,” he said.
Naturally, that was like laying down a challenge, so she jumped out of bed, knelt at his feet, and took as much as she could of his erection into her mouth. He yelled hoarsely and then pulled away from her, and a stream of shining semen arced through the air.
“Now that,” she said, pointing, “is kind of astonishing. Those sparkly vampires in the kids’ movies have nothing on you.”
He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, and Quinn was fascinated by the swirls and galaxies of lights dancing over his skin. It was as if constellations had decided to take up residence on his body. She’d never seen anything like it, ever.
When he finally opened his eyes, she was astonished to see that the constellations of stars had spread to his eyes, which glowed hot emerald green and silver.
“I don’t know about movies, mi amara, but what effect might this have on our children?”
She sat down so abruptly that she missed the bed and landed on the cold floor, on her naked butt. Scrambling up, she ran to the bathroom and closed and locked the door, and then wrapped herself in a towel and sat on yet another edge of yet another tub. The parallels to her situation the day before didn’t escape her.
So. Here she was. Ex–rebel leader, current soul-melded girlfriend to the high priest of Atlantis, and possibly pregnant with a sparkling half-Atlantean baby. She suddenly wanted to throw up again, which made her think of morning sickness, which made it worse.
“You can’t be pregnant now, Quinn,” Alaric said from the other side of the door. “We must petition Poseidon to allow us to have children.”
She glared at the door. “What about free will?”
“I think the light effect is fading, but the magical high is not,” he said, ignoring her question. “I do not wish to create a distraction when Atlantis breaks the surface of the waves.”
“What time is it? Shouldn’t we be near the surface by now?” She pulled on a robe and flung open the door. “Did I sleep through the whole thing?”
Alaric was still glowing but not as much. Or maybe that was simply wishful thinking. The first radiance of magically created dawn was beginning to shine through his windows, and a quick glance out showed her that the tower of light from the temple was still going strong.
“We are still rising,” Alaric said. “I can feel it.”
She took a deep breath and walked over to him, wanting to put her arms around him—her glowing darling—but not quite ready to be incinerated. “We’ll figure it out. Hey, we can always work it into our new job plans. Give the Naked Cowboy a run for his money. You can be the Glowing Gardener.”
He glared at her, or at least she thought he did, since magical sparks shot out of his eyes like lasers.
She started laughing. “You know, this is actually really cool. You’re going to be quite a hit with fourteen-year-old boys who love video games.”
“You are having far too much fun with this, when I am concerned I may actually explode from an excess of power flooding through my body.” He swung around and touched her with a single finger, as if to test the connection.
She screamed, and he leapt away from her.
“Quinn, I’m so sorry, where are you hurt?”
She couldn’t help it. She started laughing. “Sorry. I thought somebody needed to break the tension.”
His mouth actually fell open a little. She’d succeeded in fooling the most powerful man in Atlantis. The small success made her grin, at least until he raised one hand and pointed a finger at her. A ribbon of glowing silver-blue light arrowed out from his finger and sped across the room toward her, swirled around her until it wrapped her up tight, and then inexorably, inch by inch, pulled her toward him.
“Oh, I am going to make you pay for this,” she warned him.
Judging by the insufferably smug grin on his glowing face, he wasn’t very concerned. “You deserve it,” he told her, and then he released the energy, pulled her into his arms, and kissed the breath out of her. The energy flooding his body added an extra punch to the sensation, increasing the sensual power of his kisses until she was sure she’d drown in a wave of heat and passion.
“Stop right now,” she finally managed to say, and he reluctantly released her. “We need to figure this out.”
She walked over to an ornately carved wooden table and poured him a glass of water from the blue-and-white porcelain pitcher. “Drink this and think mundane, non-magical thoughts.”
He raised an eyebrow at her high-handedness, but he drank the water. Either that or the non-magical thinking must have worked, because he started to dim, little by little, until he was almost back to his normal self, only glowing a little around the edges. He promptly grabbed her and kissed her again, and this time when she finally pulled away, breathless again, he pointed silently at her hands.
Which were also glowing.
“Oh, boy.”
“Human lightbulb,” he said, and it took her a minute to realize he was actually joking about job opportunities.
He started laughing, and she shook her head.
“Wow. Sex must be really, really good for you. Have I ever heard you tell a joke? Ever?”
“Tour guides equipped with our own flashlights for all the midnight ghost tours,” he replied, and she nearly fell over. Two jokes in one century? From Alaric?
“Hey, nobody but me gets to touch your flashlight, buddy,” she quipped and was rewarded with another easy smile, almost as if he were at all used to smiling. It was kind of like a minor miracle.
She had to grin at the idea of Alaric giving a guided ghost tour, though, but then she thought better of it when an awful truth hit her. “Ghosts? Are there ghosts, too?”
“You’ve seen vampires, shape-shifting giant monkeys, and demon kin from another dimension, and you’re going to quibble over ghosts?” As he talked, he pulled on fresh clothes from his apparently limitless selection of black shirts and black pants, and she spared a moment to mourn the loss of the view.
All that lovely, muscular, naked man. And all hers. She felt like purring.
“Ghosts?” he repeated, probably wondering why she was staring at him like a lovesick cow.
“It’s just that ghosts are dead people, and quite honestly I’ve seen enough dead people to last me a million lifetimes.”
Alaric took her in his arms and held her tightly. “Never again. We’ll be ordinary and boring together. No battles, no dead people, no flying monkeys.”
She laughed a little. “Let’s go see this thing. How often do you get to watch the most famous lost continent in the history of the world actually rise?”
Alaric’s smile faded.
“Hopefully, rise without being destroyed,” he said grimly.
“I could have lived without thinking about that.”
Alaric and Quinn walked into the palace gardens, and he was amazed to see that while the two of them had been . . . resting, the whole of Atlantis had been transforming the gardens into a giant banquet facility. Tables were everywhere, spread with snowy white linens and set with what looked like every dish and cup on the Seven Isles. Baskets of hot bread and fresh fruit, and heaping platters of eggs, meats, potatoes, and fish promised enough for a hearty feast.
As they looked around for a place to sit, Conlan noticed them and waved them over. He hugged Quinn and grinned at Alaric, but he didn’t say a word about where they might have disappeared to.
I appreciate your discretion, Alaric sent to Conlan.
Conlan grinned even harder. Did you know your ears are glowing?
Quinn murmured an excuse and hurried away to find Riley, and Conlan grabbed Alaric and pulled him into a fierce hug, with much back pounding.
“You did it,” the prince said.
“We all did it. It took more than just me. Christophe, Myrken and the acolytes, Serai—so many gave so much for this to be accomplished.”
Conlan threw his head back and laughed. “I was talking about you finally taking Quinn to your bed. Sounds like it was awfully crowded in there.”
None too gently, Alaric elbowed his friend, the high prince soon to be king, and together they went to find their women. Their family.
“Hey,” Conlan said, throwing a companionable arm around Alaric’s shoulders. “Guess what I just realized? We’re going to be brothers-in-law.”
“You can imagine my joy,” Alaric said dryly, but Conlan just laughed and proceeded to introduce Alaric to everyone they met as his new brother-in-law. This confused most of the Atlanteans, who knew full well that Alaric was Poseidon’s high priest, but it made the warriors laugh really, really hard.
Conlan looked out into the sea of faces. His family. His friends. His subjects, no matter how uncomfortable he was with the demands of kingship. He knew he had to say something to mark the momentous occasion, but he was drawing a blank.
“How about, one small step for Aidan, one giant leap for Atlantis?” Riley offered the suggestion as she watched their son like a hawk while he charmed everyone in sight, being passed from lap to lap to lap.
“That has a certain ring to it.”
She started laughing. “No, no, no, you can’t use that, I was kidding. It’s already been used.”
Conlan reached for his dagger. “Who else is giving speeches about our child?”
As she walked away, still laughing, he realized he never would fully understand the human woman who had won his heart. He glanced across the table at Quinn and Alaric, and he knew that it was okay. Complete and total understanding would make life dull, and the gods themselves knew that neither he, nor Alaric, nor any of his warriors would ever have to settle for that. He scanned the long table of laughing people and named them, these men and women who had forever had his back and would forever inhabit his heart:
Ven, brother and protector. Jokester and deadly warrior. Paired with Erin, his gem-singer witch, he was happier than he’d ever been.
Bastien, who had undervalued himself for so long. The panther shifter Kat Fiero had opened his mind and his heart.
Marie, first maiden of the Nereid Temple. She had given so much of he
r long life to aiding in the childbirth of others. She deserved the happiness she’d found with the panther alpha Ethan.
Justice, only recently discovered to be Conlan and Ven’s half brother. Deadly and always forced to walk the balance between his dual natures. If he hadn’t found his archaeologist and object-reader love, Keely, they would have lost him to his darker impulses. Together they and their adopted child, Eleni, formed one bridge to Atlantis’s future.
Brennan, so long burdened with the curse that none of them thought he’d had a prayer of recovering his emotions, until he met and nearly lost Tiernan, whose own truth-teller gift had helped Brennan find his way.
Alexios, so fierce with his scarred face, rock star hair, and killer instincts. Only another warrior would do for him. Grace, with her archer’s bow and deadly aim, had never stood a chance against him. And soon, their daughter would add her own guidance to Atlantis’s future.
Christophe, their problem child. All attitude and arrogance until he met the infamous cat burglar, the Scarlet Ninja, otherwise known to only a select few as Lady Fiona, famous children’s book author and illustrator. Fiona and her little brother had curbed some of the wildness in Christophe. Not all, Conlan amended, remembering that he had heard about more exploits of the Scarlet Ninja only last month when he’d gone to London. Just enough.
And Serai, ancient Atlantean princess, held in stasis for so long that she’d nearly died trapped in a crystal box. Daniel, her eleven-thousand-year-old vampire consort. They’d met before Atlantis had ever sunk beneath the waves, and only found each other again recently, after so many millennia of each believing the other dead.
Now, finally, Alaric. Conlan’s best friend for nearly five hundred years had met his true mate. The soul-meld had caught them both, and Conlan truly believed they would be the better for it, as he and his own aknasha had discovered.