by Alyssa Day
"Or, more likely, in my death," she pointed out.
"Not a chance. I'm getting you out of here now."
"How are you going to do that?
He grinned. "Easy. Nobody ever looks up."
The window had been painted shut long ago, from the looks of it, so it took Jake a while to get it to open. Then there was the matter of the bars. Simple enough. He called on water to come to his aid and lend him its strength.
He slowly raised his hands and water swirled from the faucets in the sink and the bathtub, twirled itself into loops and spirals of shimmering silver, and came to his call.
On the bed, Savannah gasped. "Jake. It's beautiful."
"I think so too," he admitted. "No matter how many times I do something like this, I'm always in awe of nature's power."
With a flick of his wrists, he directed the water to spiral up and around the bars on the window. It was a matter of an instant for the bands of pure sparkling water to yank the bars out of the concrete. He had directed the water to muffle the sound, as well, so as not to cause an alarm, so there was barely any noise at all.
"You really are from Atlantis!"
"You had doubts?"
She shrugged, half-smiling. "So many doubts. But you think we're going through that? You do realize we're on the third floor, right?"
"Yes, and yes," he said, lifting her up off the bed as if she weighed nothing at all. Since she was nearly six feet tall, and at a healthy weight, this was a new experience for her. She kind of liked it.
"Are we going to fly?" Her voice sounded funny; this must be what breathless with anticipation meant. Holy cow, they were going to fly!
"Exactly. Well, to be precise, I'm going to fly, and you're going to be carried."
He was nuts. That had to be it. They were both nuts – but especially him – and this was some kind of fever dream. But hey, she would play along with it.
"Let's say you do know how to fly, which is ridiculous and I don't believe it, but anyway. For the sake of argument. The guards will see us and shoot us down, so this is really counterproductive."
"No, they won't. I told you: Nobody ever looks up."
With that, Jake's body dissolved. She didn't know any other way to think of it. It was not that he disappeared, it was more like a fading. But he was still there – she could feel him holding her. It's just that where Jake had been, only shimmering mist remained.
"Atlantis is cool," she said, and she could somehow feel that he was laughing.
9
Jake watched Savannah wander around her apartment in a daze, singing "I flew, I flew, I flew" to herself and he tried to smile, but he was too damn worried. She'd suffered another wave of the fever on the trip, and he was scared to death. He couldn't reach Lucas at all, and neither Griffin nor he could reach Denal or any of the healers, or even anybody else on Atlantis. Something was very wrong. He'd told her, but she hadn't seem to process the information.
"I don't know how much time you have, but I'm going to keep trying," he told her, catching her by the waist and pulling her toward him. He needed to hold her in his arms more than he needed his next breath.
"You will or you won't, but it's too late to worry about it now," she said, smiling wildly up at him. She was feverish, just a little, and manic, a little more, and he wished harder than he'd ever wished in his life that his minor skill in healing covered anything at all about shifter Transition.
"Do you want more ice-water?"
"No." She stepped back and yanked her shirt off and then peeled off her bra. "I want you."
And Jake's world turned upside down.
By the time he could think of anything at all to say, she'd stripped off the rest of her clothes and stood proudly naked in front of him. "If I'm going to die—or even if I'm just going to turn into a bird once a month—I want to be with you before it happens. I want you to make love to me, Jake."
"But--" There were a million reasons why this was a bad idea. To take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable…
"Please. I need you."
And he was lost.
He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, but this time he lay down on the bed with her, always touching her, tasting her, feeling her heat and passion and wanting to curl up in her warmth and stay there forever.
"Too many clothes, Jake," she said, fighting with the buttons on the front of his jeans, and he gave a joyous whoop and quickly shed his clothes until he was as bare to her as she was to him.
She rolled over on her back and flashed one of those seductive smiles, watching him, and then she whistled, long and low. "They really do make everything bigger in Atlantis, don't they?"
He felt like his smile would crack his face open, but he couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop feeling like the luckiest man in the world in spite of everything because Savannah was touching him and kissing him, she was kissing him, and he never wanted her to stop.
"Touch me," she demanded, drunk on her own power, and he stroked up the sides of her body and then dared to caress her beautiful round breasts, something he'd been dying to do since he first saw her in the bar.
"Yes," she murmured, her hands busy on his skin, shaping the sides of his face and then touching his back, his chest, his arms. "More."
More was suddenly his favorite word.
"Kiss me," she whispered, and a wave of pure, primal triumph swept through him. She was a goddess, and she wanted him, and oh, how very, very much he wanted her. He bent and captured one rosy pink nipple in his mouth and she cried out, arching her body up into him, she was so responsive, so very, very responsive, and she clutched his hair, pulling him closer to her, and she was writhing beneath her and he needed more of her.
More and more and more.
"I need you, now," she told him, and oh, by the gods, he agreed, but he wanted her ready, he wanted to taste her, he wanted her silken honey in his mouth.
He moved down in the bed, stroking and caressing all the way, and then he pulled her thighs apart and held them still and bent his head to the hottest, wettest part of her body. At the first touch of his tongue on her swollen bud, she screamed and shuddered over the edge of some high peak to a hard, spasming orgasm, and she cried out his name, over and over, as he licked the sweetness from her, never stopping in his attention to her until she arched up, rigid against him, and came again in his mouth.
She collapsed into the sheets, and he'd never seen anything or anyone more beautiful.
"Jake. I need you inside me," she whispered, and a starburst of joy exploded inside him. This amazing, brave, funny, beautiful woman needed him.
Inside her.
"I have never been happier to comply with any request in my life," he said, and he rose up on his elbows above her.
"Are we—is this okay?" She looked dazed and satiated, but she bit her lip and continued. "Are we safe? I'm on the pill, but…"
"I'm Atlantean," he said simply. "We cannot catch or give any human disease, and I cannot have a child until I petition Poseidon. You are safe with me, mi amara."
"What does that mean?"
He took her mouth in a deep, drugging kiss. "It means my beloved, and now I need to be inside you. Now."
"Yes. Now," she demanded, and he didn't wait any longer. He positioned himself and thrust inside her so deeply he felt like he must be inside her soul. She cried out again, and wrapped her legs around him, urging him to move, to push, to take her.
His cock wanted to explode from the silken pleasure of her hot, wet tightness, but he'd be damned if he'd stop now. He bent forward, instead, and licked inside her mouth, teasing her by moving slowly, inch by slow inch, in and out of her until she let out a frustrated scream and grabbed his head in her hands.
"Take me. Now. Hard," she commanded, and his control shattered.
Now any attempt at slow, at gentle, was gone. Now he fucked her, hard, harder, until she came apart in his arms, crying out his name. Then he tried to hold back, while going harder and d
eeper, but his body rode the waves of her orgasm over the precipice of his own desire and he came so hard he thought his skull might explode. He collapsed against her, his cock bucking inside her, still spurting his seed deep into her body.
"I love you," he said, realizing it even as the words burst from his mouth, and—just as quick as that—an earthquake of knowing took him, and the soul-meld swept him into a torrent of belonging—into the swirling chaos of her soul.
Flash:
She was a child in shorts and a torn shirt, dirty from climbing trees, crying alone in her room because her parents yelled at her to be more like her sister.
Flash:
She was a teenager at a dance, standing alone by a wall while all the boys danced with the other girls, the delicate girls, not the athletic, tall girls like her.
Flash:
She clutched her passport beneath her pillow, her face still wet from the tears she'd cried when her family told her to grow up and settle down and quit this adventuring nonsense.
Flash:
She stood in the middle of that damn prison courtyard, staring at him, and wondering how he'd come to mean so much to her so fast.
He cried out with the pain of her childhood, the pain of her feelings of not belonging—not being enough—and then he gasped with the feeling of love. Her love for him.
"You love me, too," he said, wonderingly.
She had tears running down her face. "I saw inside your soul. Of course I love you."
Jake shouted out a laugh and pulled her to him and then rolled over so her body was on top of his. "No matter what else happens, this is the best February in my entire life."
Savannah laughed and looked over at the clock on her bedside table. "Sorry, my love. It just rolled over midnight, so it's not February any more. It's March."
Jake kissed her again and rolled out of bed, with some idea of getting her something to drink or dancing around the room with joy like a drunken sailor, when a powerful mental blast of pain and terror knocked him to the floor. Griffin was roaring out his rage directly into Jake's brain, which felt like it might break under the strain.
IT'S LUCAS! THEY'VE GOT LUCAS, AND I'M GOING DOWN. JAKE, YOU HAVE TO FIND PINE. HE KNOWS WHERE TO…
And then Griffin's voice cut off, and no matter how hard Jake tried, he couldn't reach him again. He tried Lucas—nothing. Atlantis was still unreachable.
Savannah was next to him, holding him, crying. "What happened? Your nose started bleeding."
"They're in trouble, Savannah. They're all in trouble, and I've got to go."
She grabbed for her clothes. "Then I'm going with you. We'll find them together."
Jake didn't even try to argue. He needed her with him, if he was going to find a way to cure her. If Griffin was gone—and Atlantis unreachable—she might die in the Transition.
He slammed a fist into the wall. "It's turning out to be the worst March in my life."
TO BE CONTINUED. . . FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS TO SAVANNAH, JAKE, GRIFFIN, LUCAS, AND ALL OF ATLANTIS IN MARCH IN ATLANTIS, COMING IN TWO WEEKS!
A NOTE FROM ALYSSA DAY:
I loved writing these books!
I’m thrilled to announce that Poseidon’s Warriors will continue A Year of Atlantis in all of 2018—a book per month—and you’ll find out how Atlantis’s independent, brave, strong warriors will cope with their matchmaking queen, who is determined to find them all true love. The next book is March in Atlantis and it’s available for preorder now at select retailers and will be available to all on release day: March 26, 2018. All will be resolved!!
If you want the scoop on all new releases, behind-the-scenes details, and the chance to win prizes, Text ALYSSADAY to 66866 to sign up for my newsletter. I promise never to sell, fold, spindle, or mutilate your information so you will get no spam—ever—from me.
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Thanks again for reading—you rock! Keep going for an excerpt from January in Atlantis.
Hugs,
Alyssa
Thank you!
Thanks so much for reading February in Atlantis. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
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Try my other books! You can find excerpts of all of my books at http://alyssaday.com. Read on for an excerpt from January in Atlantis and see how it all started…
Excerpt: January in Atlantis by Alyssa Day
Bruce’s Cave, Ireland
Flynn twirled the sword in his right hand and the dagger in his left and sauntered toward the three dragons blocking the entrance to the cave. Just outside the entrance, the waves crashed and thundered into the rocks, but at the moment, water was not really concerning Flynn.
Then again, water never did.
“Boys, boys, boys. I’m not planning to tell anyone about your lair, or your treasure, or even that unfortunate tendency you have to dress up in pink skirts and dance in the moonlight.”
The largest of the three, a good twenty feet tall from toes to the top of his crested skull, reared back and roared, and the cave itself seemed to shake. Anyone who has ever heard a dragon roar would be amazed that Flynn wasn’t flat on the ground, trembling in his boots.
Flynn was from Atlantis though. He wasn’t the trembling kind.
Still, maybe not the best idea to taunt three of Clan Fury’s most powerful warriors. They were lethal in human form, and like this—in their natural shape—they were Death itself.
Nobody had ever accused Flynn of having a lot of best ideas though.
“How about you come on down from your flying-lizard forms so we can have this out like men? Or just move aside and let me go, and we’ll call it quits. I don’t even want a share of your treasure, even though I helped you… let’s just say collect, shall we?… some of it.”
The largest and fiercest of the bunch, the one who once had been Flynn’s best friend in the world, shot a bolt of searing dragon fire straight down the cave at him. It should have incinerated him.
Would have incinerated him if he’d still been standing there.
Flynn, though, had been goading the dragons into precisely this response. By the time the smoke in the cave cleared, he was traveling in mist form down the coast of Ireland.
He’d had his fun. It was time to go home.
January was as good a month as any to return to Atlantis.
Atlantis, the war room
Conlan, high king of all Atlantis, leaned back in his chair and blew out a long breath. Then he hurled a red rubber ball at the other man in the room. “You are a giant pain in my ass, do you know that?”
Denal caught the ball without ever looking at it and stared back at his king with flat blue eyes and an expressionless face. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Conlan came up out of his chair. “Damn it, Denal. You were one of my Seven. My most-trusted elite guard and my friends. You’re also like a kid brother to me, and now you’re going to ‘Your Majesty’ me? I’ll kick your ass, my friend.”
In the old days, Denal would have cracked a joke, or at
least a smile. In the very old days, back before Conlan had even met Riley, now his queen, Denal would have all but fallen over himself to please his then-prince.
Now he simply stared back at Conlan out of those empty, cold, dark blue eyes.
“Do you want Prince Aidan’s ball back, sire?”
Conlan rolled his eyes but held up his hand to catch the ball. If he didn’t have it ready when his son woke up from his nap, there would be trouble. Funny how being high king of an entire continent—albeit a relatively small one—didn’t save a guy from his son’s wrath over a missing favorite toy. He grinned at the thought but then turned his attention back to the problem in front of him.
“Are you ever going to find your sense of humor?”
“Doubtful,” Denal said flatly, leaning back against a faded tapestry and folding his arms over his chest.
The door slammed open and an icy wind blew into the room, followed by a man wearing an even icier countenance, dressed all in black to match his black hair and black mood.
“Babies,” Alaric, former high priest and most powerful mage ever to use magic in Atlantis, said with a slight baring of his teeth. “I do not understand the fascination. Prince he may be, but his chief talent at this age appears to be producing copious amounts of drool.”
Conlan started laughing. Since Alaric was married to Quinn, Queen Riley’s sister, he was forced to spend a lot of time with his nephew. Who was, of course, the most brilliant baby in the history of the world.
He said as much to Alaric, who groaned.
“Certainly the child is a prodigy among prodigies. Just this afternoon, he moved his bowels in such a manner as to cause rhapsodies to all involved evidently.” Alaric shuddered.
“There were people involved in his bowel movements?” Conlan shook his head. “No. Forget it. I don’t want to know. We’re here to talk to Denal.”