Lords of Atlantis Boxed Set 2

by Starla Night

  He grew very solemn. “You have my vow.”

  She tilted up her lips, teasing. “Let’s seal it with a kiss.”

  His mouth covered hers.

  Delicious need seared her. She drank in his masculine flavor. His tongue tangled with hers, darting with skill. He promised tonight would change everything for her.

  And she gave in with her whole heart.

  He kissed the column of her neck. Heat danced beneath his wet, hungry mouth. She tilted her neck to give him free reign. He kissed to the edge of her emerald dress. She helped him loosen the fastenings and pull it over her head, exposing her bra and panties. His powerful hands delved beneath the lacy silk and scooped her breasts free.

  Desire slicked her channel.

  She moaned.

  His hot palms massaged her pillow breasts. His sapphire gaze enjoyed her bounty. He dipped his head. His tongue laved her pearled nipples.

  They contracted with his hot caress and cool night air.

  He swept his broad thumbs over the sensitive flesh.

  Pleasure shot to her core.

  She arched into his masterful touch.

  He unhooked her lacy bra, pulled it off, and kissed over her belly button. Reaching the waistband, he pulled off her silky bottoms. He massaged her thighs.

  She spread for him.

  Her dewy center was exposed to his hungry gaze.

  He treasured her feminine folds, latching on and stroking her nub with his tongue.

  Heat crashed over her in liquid waves.

  He reached up and pinched her sensitive nipples.

  Her channel clenched on empty air. She gasped, riding the crest of a beautiful orgasm.

  He rose. A satisfied smile teased his usually serious lips.

  She reached for him. “Let me love you.”

  He rested a knee on the bed beside her.

  She unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it back. His bruise was much smaller than before as he continued to heal.

  He had jumped on dynamite and received a terrible injury.

  Mistakenly trusting in Gary had shredded her heart.

  But Dosan had rescued her without hesitation. He didn’t blame himself for the dynamite or the criminals who kidnapped her. And he had not let the fear of injury stop him from doing what was right.

  In the same way, she couldn’t let the fear of injuring her heart again stop her from embracing Dosan and living the full, wonderful life she was meant to lead.

  Underseas. Wife, mother, and queen.

  Pushing down his new shorts, she enjoyed his bulging thighs.

  He positioned his thick cock at her ready entrance and plunged into her wet, tight heat.

  A deeply satisfying hit of pleasure enraptured her. She wanted this man, this male, for the rest of her life.

  She wrapped her legs around his taut buttocks and guided him home.

  He plunged deep, stroking her with energy.

  Not only would he take a bullet for her or jump on dynamite, he would thrust into her until she was thoroughly sated. Heat exploded in her body. She gasped and arched to take him deeper.

  Faster, wetter, hotter he chased her pleasure, hunted it. His cock thrust tirelessly. She tilted her hips and met him thrust for thrust. She opened her heart to him and he returned it to her a hundredfold.

  Bliss crashed in her body. Her channel clenched his cock, gripping him in her orgasm.

  He grunted. His release filled her with his liquid heat.

  Now they were united.

  He kissed her brow and her lips. His addictive flavor, masculine and salty, filled her mouth with an echo of their shared promise.

  She nuzzled her husband. There was the formality of his ceremony but as far as she was concerned, they were married, and his gently satisfied kiss said the same thing to her.

  “You know, when I took that tour with Ian, our guides said we’d spot exotic fish because the waters around the Azores are so deep.”

  He nodded in acknowledgment. The waters were deep; he’d told her and Sydney during the earlier breakfast that one current led to his city on the bottom of the ocean.

  “But I’ve landed the most exotic fish right in my bed.” She giggled.

  He stroked her cool belly with his wide, warm palm. “Soon we will marry and you will be the most exotic. Your generous soul glows with brilliance. Your kindness will light up the sea.”

  “Do you promise? I know warriors are honorable and will never break a promise.”

  “I promise.” And he sealed it with his addictive, masculine kiss.

  Her Warrior’s Vow

  Sydney peered out her bedroom window at the powerful warrior.

  Xalu.

  He patrolled the courtyard, stalking the pool and weaving between the potted plants of their paradise-like vacation rental. Tattoos the color of iridescent black smoke swirled across his dangerously broad back, mouthwateringly muscled abdomen, massive biceps, and pylon-sized thighs. The black Speedo someone had lent him to cover his thick male prowess left nothing to the imagination.

  Lucky her.

  A wicked trident was clenched in one hand. His sharp gaze cut the mild summer evening as he searched out evil to become his prey.

  Sydney sipped the dregs of her margarita. The ice clinked.

  His gaze lasered on her window.

  Warm tingles teased her feminine vee and tightened her nipples.

  Despite the fact that he could shift into a merman — and thus wasn’t even human, although he certainly looked human right now — she wouldn’t mind being his prey.

  He stalked in her direction.

  Two doors down, the kitchen opened and her best friend’s brother, Ian, walked out carrying a tray.

  Ian was a nice guy. Paler than he ought to be from his life indoors crunching numbers, and with a gut that had grown these last few years from good home cooking, he had committed. The wedding band on his ring finger was displayed with casual pride. His wife was gorgeous too, and their two kids were adorable.

  Because a settled, happy kind of life was possible when a man made a promise and followed through on it.

  Xalu changed direction and spoke with Ian. His deep, resonant voice made her tingle. She couldn’t hear their exact words from this distance but it was clear that Ian invited him to check on his injured friend, and the well-endowed male followed with high alertness.

  His tight butt muscles clenched and released as he walked.

  Yum.

  Sydney rose unsteadily and hurried to crack her bedroom door.

  Xalu leaned in the extra guest bedroom. His broad back was to her.

  She squeezed out to the patio and quick-stepped to the kitchen.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to meet the hard, dangerous warrior.

  She’d been passed out when he’d arrived, and that was absolutely not because she’d spend the day sulking in her room, feeling sorry for herself, just because everyone else was out snorkeling and she was stuck at their paradise-like vacation rental with nothing but her regrets and a bucket of frozen margarita mix.

  Apparently, terrorists had tried to dynamite the tour boat — or something — and one of the warriors had gotten hurt. Sydney’s best friend Jen, terminally unable to relax, had volunteered to forgo her vacation to nurse him back to health.

  Xalu was here to protect them against any further terrorism.

  Sydney was here to enjoy the view.

  She dumped her old ice in the sink and filled the blender with new ice and margarita mix. She set the blender on “high” and blended it into delicious frozen forgetfulness. The drink splashed against the sides. She poured it into her glass with expertise and took a huge sip.

  Alcohol burned her throat.

  She coughed.

  How much had she put in? Actually, she couldn’t even remember adding it. But it felt about like what she’d been drinking for the past … well, two months since she’d kicked The Loser out of her life and approximately ten years she’d increasingly often num
bed herself to his lies, false hopes, and misdirections.

  I could spend the rest of my life regretting you. He’d said that at their first meeting. This is my ball and chain. He’d joked to the waiter on their first date.

  She’d picked out color swatches that first month, written her vows by Christmas, and planned the whole ceremony before their first anniversary.

  And then a decade had passed.

  She’d lost her youth, her hope, and her no-longer-so-little flower girl waiting for The Loser to take a knee.

  She’d been maid of honor in five weddings, bridesmaid in six more, and witness in two divorces.

  Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. That saying had haunted her night and day. Whoever had said it was particularly cruel. It was like a curse.

  Adding enough vodka to a single drink to knock her out was, at this point, muscle memory.

  She didn’t want to sleep through her life, but Jen probably didn’t want to share what was supposed to have been her honeymoon with two third wheels, and Ian probably didn’t want to spend his hard-earned vacation cajoling two sad sacks out of their midlife crises.

  Nobody got what they wanted. Might as well drink and forget.

  “Salud,” she told her washed out, exhausted-looking reflection in the kitchen window.

  What was “cheers” in Portuguese? She’d ask the next time she convinced Ian to drive her to a bar.

  Sydney exited the kitchen.

  Xalu stood outside.

  She stopped.

  The hulking male was even more impressive up close. Well-rounded pectorals from a million bench presses, abdomen so tight she wanted to get on her knees and lick him. The Loser had been no slouch at the gym, but Xalu redefined the word “muscular” with his abs.

  And the smoke-gray tattoos drew her lower, a treasure trail, teasing the edge of his Speedo.

  “You are Sid-o-nee,” the warrior growled.

  His deep voice massaged her ears and filled her with powerful longing. Her vee throbbed and her nipples contracted again.

  His nostrils flared. His gaze dropped to her comfy velour lounging suit where her breasts swelled larger-than-life against her plus-sized curves.

  “You’re Xalu,” she said and tried to sip her drink casually.

  “Zay-loo,” he corrected.

  “Zay-loo.”

  “Zay-loo,” he corrected again.

  “That’s what I said.”

  He began to correct her a third time.

  She put a hand on his chest. “Xalu.”

  He rumbled, deep within. Pleased? Satisfied? She felt both as his smoky warmth radiated up her forearm and lanced her suddenly thudding heart.

  She withdrew her hand. “And, since pronunciation seems to matter, it’s ‘Sydney.’”

  He frowned. “Sid-oh-knee.”

  “Sydney.”

  “Siiid-anee.”

  “Sydney.”

  “Sid-a-nee.”

  She rested her hand on his chest again and tapped out the two syllables. “Sydney. Sydney. Sydney.”

  His dark brows drew together in intense concentration. His chest rose and fell. He approached the pronunciation of her name as a focused warrior attacking a new, unknown, but dangerous prey.

  “Sid-nee.”

  “Good enough.” She grinned and let her hand drop.

  He caught her hand.

  Her breath hitched.

  His knuckles were large, bony, and strong enough to crush her glass to powder. He slid his thumb up to her wrist.

  Her slippery vee throbbed. He knew how to handle a woman and she hadn’t been handled in a long, long time.

  “Sid-nee.” He took a knee and pressed her hand to his chest.

  Her heart thudded. Just because she’d witnessed two dozen proposals did not mean this was one. “Uh … yes?”

  “I am Xalu, honorable warrior of Dragao Azul. Accept my claim and become my bride.”

  Or maybe it was.

  Her fingers started to sweat. “Bride?”

  “You will drink the nectar of the Life Tree blossom and transform into a mermaid. And then you will join with me in my city and we will produce a young fry son.”

  “That, uh, sounds nice.”

  “It will be very nice.”

  “Great. Sure. Uh huh.”

  Her mouth released words that had not passed the filter in her brain. A super hot warrior laid eyes on her and was so overcome with love he wanted to sweep her away to his barbarian castle? Great. Sure. Uh huh.

  “So… when do we leave for your city?”

  “As soon as Dosan recovers. I hope tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” She’d waited a decade for The Loser and this Xalu proposed within the first five minutes. “That’s sudden.”

  “We must not wait.” He tilted his chin. “My race is dying. Only you, Sid-nee, can make our city bountiful once again.”

  “Bountiful. Uh huh. I like that.”

  His brows rose with hope. “You do?”

  From this closeness, his features appeared more hawkish, with a sharp chin and hooked nose. He looked like a military commander. And deadly serious, as if he had never cracked a smile.

  “Sure,” she said, moving her weight from one rhinestone-crusted sandal to the other. “I’ve always been ‘ample.’ My whole life. I’ve got a lot of love to give. So, this is a marriage proposal?”

  “I offer you this mating jewel.” With his other hand, he reached into a darkly colored, woven bag at his chiseled waist and brought out a pearl the size of her fist.

  Her stomach dropped. “That’s a…”

  “You call it a Sea Opal.”

  The rare gemstone with healing properties. Sea Opals were produced by the Life Tree within each mer city. This size, such a gemstone was worth … millions?

  Suddenly this wasn’t funny anymore.

  He offered the Sea Opal to her.

  She choked. “You’re joking.”

  “Jo-king?”

  “Misleading. Saying one thing but meaning another. Lying.”

  He stiffened. His dark eyes flashed. “I do not lie.”

  “Yeah, but, if you’re serious…”

  Perspiration rolled off the margarita glass and sweated across the back of her hand.

  “…I must be hallucinating. How much have I had to drink? Too much, clearly.”

  He frowned, set the Sea Opal in her hand — it was smooth and beautiful and heavy — and took her margarita. He swirled the ice and touched the tip of his tongue to the drink.

  “This is poison!”

  “Only to my liver.” She pressed her chilled fingers to her forehead. Soothing. “I can quit any time.”

  He stood and overturned the glass. Liquid and ice splattered the tile.

  “Hey! I was drinking that.”

  “You must not drink this poison, Sid-nee. It dulls your soul light.”

  She teetered on the balls of her feet. “My what?”

  He pressed the Sea Opal to her chest. “Your light. The great strength within you. You must let your light shine. You have the soul of a queen.”

  Her chin wrinkled.

  What?

  Oh, tears burned at the corners of her eyes and a hard lump filled her throat.

  This beautiful, powerful warrior looked beyond the disappointment her life had become and saw the woman she still was deep inside.

  She pressed her hand to her mouth to hide the emotion welling up and spilling out, and she tried to laugh. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

  He frowned. “I do not punch.”

  “Verbally. It means…” Her throat closed. She swallowed. “You know what? Never mind.”

  “You must not fear violence from me, Sid-nee.”

  “I don’t. It’s a figure of speech.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You know what?” She clenched the Sea Opal to her chest as though its weight would calm her thudding heart. “Why don’t I make a coffee? You have to tell me about this undersea city of yo
urs.”

  “Dragao Azul.”

  “And I have to get sober for the first time in … in a few … well, we’ll be generous and call it years.” She pocketed the gemstone, leaned down, and scooped up her empty glass.

  He stopped her. “You have not given your answer.”

  Oh. Her answer would be the same drunk or sober. “I accept.”

  He froze. “You accept?”

  Sydney believed in love at first sight. The tight band squeezing her heart was that feeling.

  She nodded.

  Her warrior opened his mouth and closed it again. Like he couldn’t believe he’d heard right.

  He stepped closer. His warm breath kissed her cheek. An irresistible scent like rum and leather tantalized her nose. Gaze locked on hers, he lowered his head. His lips pressed hers.

  Firm. Honest.

  Forthright.

  He meshed their lips, tilted his head, and pushed for a deeper connection. There was no doubt what he wanted. She was his desire. He prowled at her entrance like a deadly predator hunting his favorite prey.

  Heat flared in her belly.

  His quest was fierce, relentless, and so welcome.

  She parted her lips.

  He plumbed her wet depths, probed her hungry mouth and suckled her tongue. Deep, primitive tugs declared his intention to bow her willing body over a lounge chair and thrust his hard, smoke-tattooed cock deep into her hungry channel.

  Her feminine sex throbbed.

  She moaned.

  He ended her kiss with the same decisive movement that had started it. Pulling back, he studied her flushed, breathless face. Analyzing his attack. Learning how to stalk her and pounce.

  Her big, strong warrior filled her with the wonder of new experiences. She’d long ago felt like she knew everything about love. But his single-minded kiss said she’d forgotten the most important part.

  Honesty.

  She caught her breath. “What was that?”

  “That was a kiss.”

  She wiped her mouth and grinned. Her body throbbed for more. “That’s right, baby.”

  “Baby? I am no young fry.”

  “Huh? Oh. I meant — never mind.”

  “But—”

  “What I’d really like,” she snuggled in close and tilted up her chin, “is one more of those delicious kisses.”