Lords of Atlantis Boxed Set 2

by Starla Night

  “You didn’t say anything!”

  “Habit.”

  She bowed low to his grandfather.

  His grandfather straightened and returned her bow as a warrior greeting an equal.

  Then, his bloodline approved.

  Good.

  “We return to the castle,” Uvim told his father.

  His father nodded in tacit understanding. “I will hunt celebratory meat.”

  “Hunt! For me? That sounds difficult.”

  “Less difficult in the king’s larder.” His father nodded in farewell and swam to Uvim’s grandfather. Together, the older males paddled to the king’s castle.

  Uvim led Milly through the city. With every kick, his excitement grew. He wished to point out familiar sites — his old training grounds, where he had gotten his first fights and his tattoos — but more than that he wanted to join with her. In their private marriage ceremony, in the heart chamber, where they would make their young fry.

  “That’s your castle,” she guessed, picking out the amethyst-tint from the glowing, vibrant green bulbs.

  He flew her down the long entrance tunnel into his family’s courtyard, past their well-tended crops, and dove through the ancient passages to the innermost chamber.

  The heart chamber had never opened for him. He had tried many times. Now, if his ancestors accepted his bride, the entrance would yield.

  He placed his palm on the wall. Milly placed her palm beside his.

  The green wall flashed with deeper vibrancy and a portal opened, twisting to reveal a chamber sized for two.

  Anticipation thrilled him.

  He flew Milly through the portal. It sealed them in.

  They floated inside the innermost heart of his castle. The safest place in the city.

  And she rested nude against him.

  His cock flared with heat.

  Her chest pulsed with an answering brilliance.

  She slid her thumbs across the hard swell of his pectorals. “It’s funny we’ve been naked this whole swim but only now do I feel nervous.”

  Nervous? But her soul burned a steady light.

  He trailed loving hands down her sensuous back, into the slenderness of her waist and over the fertile swell of her feminine hips.

  If she was not ready, then—

  Milly’s lips brushed his, stealing his thoughts.

  “I’m ready.” Her tongue teased between his lips, seducing his mouth and fueling his hunger with her addictive flavor. Her chest vibrated with her words. “I’m sorry I took so long to commit.”

  “Do not be sorry.”

  “I needed more confidence. Faith that loving you wouldn’t destroy my self-control but instead give me the satisfaction I need to become my best self.”

  “You are ready now.” He nuzzled her neck. “I did not want you any sooner.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Making love to Uvim was everything Milly had dreamed.

  Fantasized.

  Whatever.

  He kissed the column of her sensitive neck to her throbbing breasts and sucked first one bud into his mouth, rolling it around with exquisite mastery, and then the other.

  Pleasure shot to her slick core, making her ache.

  She had wanted him from the moment they exchanged their vows in front of the Life Tree. He was her husband now. She was his wife. They were closer than ever before. And this “joining” united them for all time.

  And she craved that unity.

  She craved a future with her gorgeous, dutiful, olive-amethyst warrior.

  Milly craved Uvim.

  He pressed hot kisses over her belly button to her trembling mons. His gentle hands quested lower, stroking her sex lips and coating her in her own slickness. He knew what she liked from his careful, dutiful, enthusiastic study at her house. Beneath the water, his focus was even more intense. And her trust for him reached a new peak.

  He was hers. She was his. All of her. All of him.

  She parted her thighs in welcome, opening herself without hesitation.

  He dropped his dark head, tongued her aching channel, and feasted on her tender bud.

  Yes.

  Floating in the center of his amazing living castle, held by Uvim, bathed in his essence, she felt alive.

  And totally in control.

  Milly threaded her fingers through his silky hair.

  Together, they rotated in the sacred heart chamber.

  Uvim’s powerful hands massaged her buttocks, shooting her pleasure higher. He sucked on her core and rotated his fingers around her channel, stroking and stretching her from the inside. The warm liquid of the heart chamber flowed in and out, its own current, seducing her.

  Here was where she wanted him.

  She exploded with pleasure.

  Five orgasms. Uvim loved her tirelessly.

  Today she wouldn’t make him stop.

  He continued loving her and a second one built. She exploded. And a third wave crashed over her. He read her mind. No words were necessary. Her only love, her silent warrior, attacked her pleasure with total devotion.

  Her third orgasm wracked her pussy in channel-squeezing delight.

  She gasped.

  At this rate, it would be over before she ever enjoyed the shape of his cock.

  And she demanded his cock. Inside. Where he belonged.

  “Uvim, I need your help.” She pulled away from his head and wrapped her thighs around his torso. “I want to ‘join’ with you.”

  His olive-amethyst gaze intensified.

  “Will you help me?”

  “Of course, my queen.”

  No hesitation. No asking if she was all right.

  She asked. He answered.

  Milly had found her place. Here, with him, was where she belonged.

  Uvim rubbed the seam of his cock against her slick nub.

  Oh, yes.

  He studied her, using his cock to tease her.

  Her channel clenched as a fourth orgasm fluttered toward the surface.

  No, she wanted him inside.

  Milly encircled his cock and guided him into her.

  Yes.

  His thick head lodged against a pressure point. Not painful, but a tight neck requiring care and respect. He bobbed against it, finding his way.

  Sweet tendrils of pleasure soothed her inner channel. She relaxed, surrendering to his manhood.

  He slid through. Suddenly, he filled her to the brim. Their bodies sealed together into one.

  Husband and wife. Male and female. Question and answer.

  Eternity in each other’s arms began with this infinite moment of tenderness.

  They floated together, holding each other the instant everything changed.

  She savored his girth.

  His fingers dug into her back, massaging her outsides and stroking her insides.

  Her thighs flexed to contain his warrior power.

  His thick head pressed on her inner button. Her pussy shuddered. She moaned.

  He nudged her pleasure spot, guided by her moans. They needed no words. They communicated with bodies. Perfect.

  Her silent warrior had overcome his doubts. He’d led an army of human and mer. He’d found his words and his soul.

  She filled her palms with his buttocks and squeezed.

  Uvim thrust, amplifying her commands.

  His cock slid harder and faster into her slick channel.

  The orgasm rose like a bubbling tide. Her body contracted for an explosion. She wanted him. Forever. Always.

  The orgasm crashed over her. Hot and heavenly and out of control. She flew into pieces and he thrust into her even harder, losing his control and pounding. The fifth orgasm shattered her pieces into shimmering dust.

  His own body tensed and his release exploded into her.

  They were remade. Her and him. Remade by their ancient dance.

  He trembled.

  She caressed his broad shoulder blades. “You know, today might be the first day of my n
ew life.”

  He lifted his head. Strong emotions swept across his face. “First day as a bride? A queen?

  “As a mother.”

  He buried his head in her neck. “We must ensure this with at least two more pleasures.”

  “At least,” she laughed and surrendered herself to her thoughtful, articulate, and convincing new husband.

  Bonus Stories

  How did Jen and Sydney become brides? What happened during the dramatic kidnapping? How did Dosan and Xalu “defend their brides” and come to their rescue?

  These two bonus love stories — “Her Warrior’s Kiss” and “Her Warrior’s Vow” — take place during the events of Surrendering to the Sea Lord. While Milly and Uvim are busy elsewhere, their new friends are fighting feelings — and more!

  It starts the evening Jen nurses heroically injured Dosan back to life at her vacation rental. Honorable yet deadly warrior Xalu stands guard outside.

  And yummy warrior-bride sparks begin to fly…

  Her Warrior’s Kiss

  “I am not seeing this.” Her brother, Ian, stopped in the bedroom doorway with the tray of food and water she’d requested. He made an exasperated noise. “Jen?”

  Jen jerked upright, lifting her elbows off the guest bed where she held her vigil. “Um, yes?”

  “You are not touching the dead man.”

  Even unconscious, the marine shifter looked deadly. Blunt nose, wide lips, broad forehead. His skin was tinged an olive green that made the sapphire tattoo beneath his lower lip stand out like an iridescent gemstone. Beneath the white bedsheet, his knees and toes stuck up like undersea mountains.

  “He’s not dead, he’s unconscious.” Jen stroked the injured warrior’s forehead in a way she hoped was soothing. “And look. He likes my touch.”

  Dosan’s closed eyes crinkled and a deep, satisfied sigh rumbled in his badly bruised chest.

  “That’s not ‘like,’ that’s a growl.” Ian left the door open to the courtyard and crossed the vacation rental guest room floor. “His inhuman senses are probably screaming, ‘Who is this stranger touching me? Is she one of the humans who threw dynamite in the water and tried to kill me?’”

  Ian nudged the bedside lamp with his elbow and eased the tray onto the nightstand. “When in fact, you’re a workaholic who can’t enjoy a vacation.”

  “Then he’ll wake up and I’ll tell him I’m innocent.” She put ice chunks into the cold bag and took a quick inventory of the tray. “I asked for three water glasses.”

  “There’s just you and him. Why do you need three?”

  She eased the ice pack onto the dark red bruise in the center of his chest, then poured water from the pitcher into the two glasses. “For when Xalu wants to sit with us.”

  The second warrior poked his head through the door Ian had left ajar. Taller and broader, Xalu’s fierce tattoos looked like gray smoke all over his dangerously well-muscled body. “Dosan is awake?”

  “Not yet. But I’m sure he will be soon. He responds when I do this.” She rested her bare hand on Dosan’s forehead.

  The sleeping warrior sighed.

  Xalu’s fierce, hawk-sharp brow darkened. “A mer must only be touched by his bride. No other female. That is the mer way.”

  Oh. Oops. She jerked her hand away.

  Jen was no one’s bride. Her heart dropped to her new flip flops. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Well, the ‘mer way’ is not the American way.” Ian reversed his objections, looped his arm around Jen’s shoulder and gave her a supportive squeeze in defiance of the intimidating warrior. “Jen opened her home to you and she’s sacrificing her vacation to take care of your sick friend. Don’t make her apologize.”

  Ian’s criticism made the warrior stiffen and grip his deadly trident. The blades glinted in the late afternoon sun. He turned and stalked away. The door thudded closed behind him.

  “The nerve of some people.” Ian dropped her shoulder and headed for the door.

  Jen cleared her throat. “Um, Xalu didn’t make me apologize. I apologized on my own.”

  “He has no right to criticize.”

  “And technically, we’re not in America. We’re in the Azores.”

  Ian spun. “You’re darned right we’re in the Azores. And are you out enjoying the dramatic beaches, volcanic peaks, or homey food? No. You’ve locked yourself away in a sick room, resisting every effort to get out and enjoy yourself.”

  “I went snorkeling with you today.”

  “Which was all well and good — until mermen boarded our boat and you volunteered our rental for their hospital.”

  “Dosan jumped on the dynamite. He saved us.”

  “No one’s questioning his heroism.” Ian rested a fist against the waist of his chinos. “This is your vacation. You’re supposed to be drinking margaritas by the pool. Not exiling yourself to a darkened room, shackling yourself to the whims of an unconscious man. Er, male. I mean, look at it from my perspective. How can I have fun when you’re stuck in here all alone?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I volunteered without a thought about you or Sydney. If you want—”

  “No, it’s not about what I want. This is about you.” Ian shook his head. “I know you only agreed to this ‘vacation’ because you couldn’t get back the deposit. But Jen, you’ve got to stop this pattern.”

  “Nursing an injured male isn’t a pattern.”

  “The thing with Gary started when you brought him a pot of chicken soup. He thought the soup came ‘with benefits’.” Ian pointed at the unconscious warrior on her bed. “Just make sure that warrior doesn’t think his cheese plate comes with a ‘happy ending.’ Right?”

  “It doesn’t,” she said. “I know.”

  Lecture delivered successfully, her accountant brother headed out.

  Leaving her alone with the warrior.

  Jen rubbed her palms on her dress. The soft, cottony purple fabric of her “wedding trousseau” beach dress felt smooth as silk despite the heat.

  She couldn’t take Ian’s advice.

  If she focused on herself, she’d find a heartbroken little girl afraid she’d never be loved again.

  Because Ian and Sydney had to be right. Jen was the problem. Loving unselfishly was wrong. The more she gave, the more guys took. She had to guard herself, dole out her love, and lock away her generous heart.

  It was too depressing to think about.

  “Come back,” she murmured near his damp ear. “Come back to us, Dosan.”

  Another deep sigh moved the thin sheet lower to expose his rippling abdomen. Artful sapphire tattoos swirled across his bulging pectorals, over his arms, and decorated his fierce brow.

  It exposed more muscle than a staid insurance processor normally saw. So, Jen tried not to stare as she tugged the sheet up for modesty.

  His forehead perspired in the humid island heat despite the fan and air conditioning.

  She squeezed her damp wash cloth and rested it across his dark eyebrows.

  “Mmhh,” he sighed.

  His resonant voice sparked little tingles in her lower belly.

  She leaned closer and rested her elbows on the bed.

  Dosan’s face tilted toward hers as if he were as drawn to her as she was fascinated by him.

  Ooh, was that a dimple? Hard to tell with the shadows and the tattoos.

  Jen teased her finger across Dosan’s hard chin.

  Yes. Dimple.

  Jen knew a secret about the warrior no one else knew.

  Her chest tingled.

  She withdrew her hand before Ian returned and yelled at her. Or Xalu did.

  “Come back,” she cajoled, quiet and insistent, and she stroked his high, dominant cheekbones. “Wake up.”

  Dosan’s eyes fluttered open.

  She froze.

  His piercing sapphire eyes darted over the room and then focused on her.

  Her belly dropped.

  “You…”

  She bolted upright and
smoothed her low collar. “Hi! I’m Jen.”

  “Jen?”

  “You don’t remember me because we’ve never met. I was on the tour boat and you saved us from getting blown up.”

  Dosan squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed his hand across the ice pack on his bruised chest. He winced and moaned.

  “Don’t.” She pulled his hand away. “You’re hurt.”

  His hand tightened reflexively around hers. “Uvim and Xalu?”

  “Your leader will be back tomorrow. Xalu is outside.”

  “Uninjured?”

  “Yes, they’re both fine.”

  His fingers were powerful, the skin rough. He’d slashed a stick of dynamite with his trident. These fingers knew how to wield dangerous weapons without hesitation.

  A curl of awareness flushed her feminine center with heat.

  Down.

  “You were the only one hurt saving us.”

  “Saving?” His eyes opened again. He focused the intense blue irises on her. “Then, everyone was saved?”

  His attention made her throat go dry. He was even more compelling awake. Powerfully, radiantly male. And she could no longer pretend she didn’t know that he was naked beneath the sheet.

  She swallowed. “I think so.”

  His intense blue eyes gleamed. He dropped his gaze to her chest.

  Heat suffused her. Was he checking her out?

  His grip tightened. He curled upright.

  No, he wasn’t checking her out. He was rising.

  The ice bag jangled as it rolled off his chest. She caught it and set it beside the bed.

  His abdomen tightened and his muscle stood out in sharp relief. He looked like a god. A sculpture. A statue of an ideal male who ate a pure fish-and-seaweed diet and worked out ten hours every day. He was all mouthwatering male fitness.

  She, on the other hand, was all soft squishes, dreamy New Years’ resolutions and canceled gym memberships.

  But she wasn’t helpless. Jen put her arm around his trembling shoulders, helping him to steady himself. “Rest against the headboard.”

  He obeyed, closing his eyes again with a groan. He released her hand and opened the palm. “Cold.”

  She handed him the ice bag.

  He pressed it to his chest with a pained hiss. “I am not well.”