Atlantean's Quest Volume 2

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Atlantean's Quest Volume 2 Page 18

by Jordan Summers


  The skin-tight material of his costume left little to the imagination. Brigit saw the outline of another set of rings through his nipples. Her stomach tightened and gooseflesh rose on her arms. Something primal roared to life inside of her and moisture pooled between her quivering thighs. Brigit’s heart paused, then begin to thrum madly. She felt the beat all the way to her clit. So this was what instantaneous attraction felt like. Her attention moved back to his nipples. How many piercings did this guy have? The thought of finding out the answer to that question sent a wave of dizziness through her, threatening to buckle her knees.

  Her gaze swept him, dropping of its own accord to the area below where his belt should have been. The bulge there made Brigit’s breath stutter in her lungs. She blinked. That wasn’t humanly possible, was it? The bulge grew under her perusal.

  Heck, a second ago she thought the sword was impressive. Goodness!

  Transfixed, Brigit almost missed the glint of silver as he raised his weapon, preparing to attack. And there was no doubt in her mind he was going to strike her. She screamed and took a step back. Her clawed foot caught the edge of the stage, knocking her off balance. Brigit flailed helplessly, trying to keep from falling into the crowd. The movement sent her headpiece cascading onto the front row. She heard groans and grunts coming from the people behind her. She looked around a second before her tail slammed down into the groin of one of the men trying to help her back onto the stage. His eyes crossed and he keeled over.

  “Sorry,” she said, wincing before facing the immediate threat. Tall, dark and deadly’s gaze locked on her face. Sudden confusion marred his flawless features, but it was too late he’d already swung the weapon. The hiss of the blade stung the air.

  Brigit screeched and tried to flinch away, but her bulky costume slowed her movements, while the hands behind her pushed her forward into the oncoming blow. She watched in fascinated horror as the blade came crashing toward her. This was it. She was going to die at a Sci-fi/Fantasy Convention.

  The burly announcer caught the man’s arm mid-swing. The action toppled the announcer, but his actions prevented the deadly blade from reaching its target. The weapon stopped inches from Brigit’s face. The breeze from the motion fluffed her hair. Even this close, the sword looked real…and incredibly sharp. With a microphone in one hand and the man’s arm in the other, the announcer climbed to his feet to address the crowd.

  “I don’t think we need a judge’s score sheet for this one, do you folks?” he said. “But to keep everything fair, let’s see the scores.” The score sheets were gathered and handed to the announcer. “I believe we’ve found our winner. Let’s hear it for the Dragon Slayer.”

  The audience roared, coming to their feet in a standing ovation—her ovation. Brigit could see Rick and Dorothy hooting and hollering in the background. This couldn’t be happening. She’d had this contest in the bag. She’d worked hard, only to have it snatched away at the last minute.

  Someone pushed Brigit from behind, taking time to allow their hands to linger on her dragon-tailed butt. She glanced around and glared, but couldn’t ascertain the guilty party. It didn’t matter. She had bigger fish to boil. Mr. Tall, Gorgeous and Sneaky had just walked away with her trophy.

  Well he wasn’t going to get away with it. She’d protest the results if necessary. You couldn’t win a contest that you hadn’t entered.

  Brigit turned on the sword-carrying, romance novel cover-looking warrior, who’d just snatched victory out of her grasp and planted her hands on her green material-covered hips. The man continued to stare at her as if one of her orange horns protruded out of her forehead.

  There was something about the way he looked at her that made Brigit decidedly uncomfortable and it had nothing to do with the fact that one of his eyes was aqua blue and the other was jade green. Any other time she’d consider that particular trait unusual, maybe even oddly attractive, but not now. At that moment, she was too mad to think.

  His gaze traveled over her costume-covered body, raking her length, as if by doing so he could see beneath the wasabi-colored material. Brigit’s nipples swelled, puckering painfully beneath her lace bra. Sweat beaded her lower lip, when only moments ago she hadn’t been hot.

  Poor ventilation, that’s all. He wasn’t causing it.

  Angered by her body’s response, Brigit squared her shoulders and pinned him with narrowed eyes. Uh-huh! You’re not getting out of this that easy, buddy. He didn’t even blink. He may be pretty, but he was obviously dumb as a stump.

  Her fingers curled into fists as she fought the urge to pummel him where he stood. It might take a ladder and a baseball bat, but she could do it. They had to have those items somewhere in the hotel. She continued to seethe. And what did he do? He actually had the nerve to look amused.

  That’s it, you dragon slaying perv! You’re about to encounter my wrath. Duck down here so I can reach you. You won’t be smiling in a minute.

  His lips quirked as if he’d heard her thoughts…which was impossible.

  Brigit stepped forward to tell him exactly what she thought of him or to box his ears, she wasn’t sure which. His nostrils flared, along with his multicolored eyes. He straightened to his full height as if readying for her approach. No, readying wasn’t the right word. He practically dared her to come forward.

  Well she wasn’t going to do it. Not if it would play into his plans and make him happy. No way! Uh-huh! This called for a sneak attack.

  Brigit battled the impulse to step back. It wasn’t in her nature to retreat. From his appearance, the big gorgeous bully was probably used to intimidating people. Luckily, she wasn’t most people. Brigit knew she was scowling, but she couldn’t help herself. He’d stolen her win, humiliated her in front of her ex-boyfriend and his slutty new girlfriend, and the bastard didn’t even have the decency to look guilty about it. Hell, she threw her arms up in frustration. He actually looked pleased.

  Had Rocket Man Rick put him up to this? She wouldn’t put it past him. She met her ex’s gaze. He smiled and had the temerity to wink. Furious, Brigit longed to smack that smug look right off his face, but first, she’d take care of the dragon slayer, who continued to look at her like he’d never seen a woman dressed in a wasabi-green dragon costume before. What planet was he from? Didn’t he know it was impolite to stare?

  The man’s gaze skittered across her face to settle on the front of her zippered costume. He paused there, lingering on the exposed vee of her skin. He moistened his full bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Heat radiated from him, penetrating wherever he looked.

  What was he, a human blast furnace?

  Brigit resisted the urge to zip her collar. The last thing he needed to know was that his goo-goo eyes affected her. Had she learned nothing from her last encounter with a splashy space guy? Obviously, not. What was she saying? The dragon slayer’s smooth moves weren’t working on her. But even as the insidious thought crossed her mind, Brigit’s heart pounded madly, nearly deafening her while her throat went Sahara dry. She sucked on her tongue hard, trying to garner enough to spit in her mouth to yell at him.

  The announcer quieted the crowd, before she could speak. “Let’s find out the winner’s name.” He smiled as he swung the microphone in front of the dragon slayer’s sensuous mouth. And it was sensuous, the way his full lips curled slightly, covering perfect white teeth and a tongue made for laving the most sensitive skin on a woman’s body.

  The warrior said nothing.

  “What’s your name, dragon slayer?” he asked again.

  “Orion.” The man’s smoky voice echoed throughout the ballroom, sending ominous shivers down Brigit’s spine. She heard several women gasp.

  “All hail Orion from the planet…” The announcer paused.

  “Zaron,” the warrior said, his gaze never leaving Brigit as he took a bow.

  She squeezed her legs together, ignoring the sudden throb. No way. No how. She was not turned on by another wannabe starfighter.

  Bri
git’s horoscope slammed in her head. It wasn’t possible. It had to be some kind of cosmic joke. First Apollo, now Orion.

  So not happening.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Two

  Orion stared at the woman before him with something akin to terror surging through his body. His heart pounded painfully against his rib cage as he considered how close he’d come to killing her. He didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t think about it. Had she not staggered back at the same time the man grabbed his arm, she would be dead. His blood froze in his veins as the implications of his actions sunk into his mind.

  He would have failed his mission for the first time in his life if he had killed an innocent. A good rationale for feeling the way he did at this moment, but that wasn’t the only reason. Orion refused to look too closely at what the other reason might be. He didn’t understand those feelings and he didn’t understand this world. Why would a woman cover herself in such hideousness? Especially one as lovely as the vision before him. His gaze locked on her glowing red hair. He’d never seen anything like it. He longed to touch the flame to see if it was a hot as it appeared.

  The man straining to hold Orion’s forearm released him and shoved a cup of some sort into his palm. He stared at the alloy, turning it from side to side. What was he supposed to do with this? He examined it, but other than holding a fair amount of Zaronian ale, he saw no use for it.

  Orion gave the man a curt nod, then stepped toward the flame-haired woman. She was unlike anyone he’d ever encountered. Remarkable. Her green eyes spat fire every time she glanced his way. He understood her anger. He’d been close to death on several occasions while in battle.

  But there was more than simple anger in her gaze. There was hurt, envy and something else. Something he recognized instantly…awareness. His eyes widened at the realization. Despite her anger this woman wanted him, almost as much as he wanted her. That thought sent a surge of urgency through Orion’s body, one he hadn’t felt in a very long time—if ever.

  He flashed her a look that normally brought women flocking to his quarters on Zaron. Her gaze flared a fraction, then narrowed dangerously. Orion watched her tiny hands curl into fists. Did she think to harm him? The thought was ridiculous, but he admired the courage it took coming from one so small and it intrigued him. Perhaps all the small creatures on this planet were fierce.

  Crimson color swept her neck and over her face. He debated whether to probe her mind, but decided against it. Her species was far too primitive to accept such a prolonged invasion without a true-mate energy bond in place. But he was tempted, especially after accidentally catching a few of her racier thoughts.

  He stroked her with his gaze and heard her bite back a growl. Orion’s lips twitched as he fought the urge to laugh. He loved a good fight, on and off the battlefield. This woman would not come easily to his bed, but she would come many times once she got there. The thought provoked, aroused and surprised him. He wasn’t at all certain when he’d made the decision to have her. He only knew it to be so, as if the Goddess herself had leaned forward and whispered take her, she’s yours in his ear. Never one to “look a prized zebra in its teeth”, he accepted the Goddess’ gift without question.

  “The first prize goes to Orion, dragon slayer from Zaron,” the man announced to the masses, motioning to the cup in Orion’s hand.

  Dragon slayer? Why did the man keep calling him that? He wanted to check his wristband to see what kind of creature that was but he didn’t want to draw any more attention than necessary.

  The crowd exploded. Loud whoops filled the air as he followed the announcer’s lead and tentatively raised the cup above his head. Orion was deep into his fantasies about the woman when the announcer’s next words dowsed his ardor as effectively as if he’d ripped the Katronian rings from his cock.

  “Second prize goes to crowd favorite, Brigit Taylor for her celestial dragon.” The man held out a document to the spirited woman. She hesitated a second before snatching the paper out of his fingers. Her gaze swept past the announcer going straight to the cup in Orion’s hand, before she turned to the crowd and waved. Brigit smiled sweetly at the people, until she glanced back at him. Her happiness faded, replaced once more by anger. Without touching him, she slayed him repeatedly with her eyes.

  This was the woman he sought? This was Brigit? Impossible! The man had made a mistake. Yet, even as Orion considered the probability, he knew there’d been no error. He could almost hear the tinkling sounds of the Goddess’ laughter over the crowd’s din. She hadn’t blessed him with this woman, she’d cursed him.

  Orion’s gaze swept Brigit once more, taking in the hidden curves, imagining the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, the taste of her nipples in his mouth. He swallowed hard. What would she look like without the hideous covering? His palms itched and his body tightened. So this was Brigit Taylor, friend to Queen Rachel and Jac.

  This changed noth—everything.

  There had to be a compromise somewhere. He knew his orders, but conveying his message and then leaving no longer seemed like a viable option. Besides, his orders mentioned nothing about refraining from touching, although perhaps they’d implied as much. King Eros and Ares should’ve been more specific. They’d left seduction floating in the realm of possibility. Orion’s smile deepened as he considered the prospects. There was “more than one way to skin a weasel” as Jac liked to say.

  He sheathed his sword and laughed under his breath at the fates that brought him to this tiny blue-green planet. The Goddess certainly worked in mysterious ways. Suddenly the thought of babysitting didn’t sound quite so unappealing.

  * * * * *

  Brigit seethed in anger as she approached him. “Who are you? Did Rick hire you? There’s no doubt you’re a ringer, but whose?”

  “No, I—”

  “Then where in the hell did you come from?” she asked as she steamrolled past Orion, not waiting for an answer. “And don’t you dare tell me Zaron,” Brigit shot back over her shoulder as she unhooked her six-foot plastic tail and shoved it under her arm. What kind of name was Orion anyway? He might as well call himself Spock. Talk about unoriginal.

  Like Brigit expected, the man followed her as she exited the stage. Rick and Dorothy laughed and pointed at her as she passed, but quickly stifled their mirth when the dragon slayer shot them an admonishing look. She fumed. She didn’t need this…this…man sticking up for her. She could take care of herself. Brigit still couldn’t believe she’d lost to a guy wearing what appeared to be spray-on clothes. It didn’t matter that he looked like some kind of fabled god in them.

  She glanced at him. He stalked behind her. There could be no other way to describe his movements or his grim expression. Brigit took a moment to examine his costume. It reminded her of something you’d get if Fredrick’s of Hollywood designed a spacesuit for men. Sexy, even without a splash of color beyond a couple of jade accents. He hadn’t put a lot of work into his costume. Were the judges blind? It didn’t matter that the crowd had decided the winner and that the judges score sheets were simply a formality. She huffed. Obviously, there was no accounting for taste or true talent.

  Brigit turned forward in time to avoid colliding into a structural beam. He would’ve loved that, having her so distracted that she walked into something. Bastard! Grr…why did he have to look so good in that outfit anyway? The contest should have been based on a costumes complexity, yet it had turned into a beauty contest. And there was no way in hell she could beat him in that arena. Heck, the chick who’d played Lara in Tomb Ryder would have a hard time and she was beyond gorgeous.

  It wasn’t fair. Brigit slapped the second place certificate against her padded thigh and glared over her shoulder once more. Just what she needed, a male version of an actress who embodied perfection following her around. As if things didn’t suck enough at the moment.

  Sweat from the crowd permeated the air. Brigit pinched her nose and fought to keep from gagging. Would it kill some of
these people to use deodorant?

  When they reached the relative quiet of the hallway, Brigit dropped her plastic tail at her feet and stopped. The man almost slammed into her. She hadn’t realized he’d closed the distance between them. She craned her neck and tried to ignore the heat coming off his body. Brigit straightened her spine before she did something stupid like sway into him. The fact that she found him attractive only angered her more. “I don’t know who you think you are coming in here and snatching victory from my hands, but I want you to know that I think it stinks. If I were bigger, you’d be sorry.”

  He frowned, his expression one of utter confusion. “I’m not sure what I have done to offend you, but…” He hit a button on his wrist. Something crackled, then buzzed. “I apologize.”

  Brigit glanced at his wrist and back to his face. “Don’t you think you’re taking your character a little too seriously? The spotlight isn’t on you now, so you can cut the act. By the way, what’s your real name? Bob? Fred? Tom? Mike? Percy?”

  “I know not what you speak of. My name is as I told the people. I am Orion.”

  Brigit planted her hands on her costume-covered hips and gave him her best withering stare. He didn’t crack a smile or even blink. Maybe he was telling the truth. She relaxed a fraction. “Hippie parents, eh? I understand. I came this close,” she raised her hand and pinched her fingers together, “to being named Moonbeam.”

  Orion shook his head. “What do we do now?”

  “What do you mean what do we do? I’m going back to my room to change into my next costume and you…you…” She poked him in the chest to punctuate each word. Touching him was a mistake. Her fingers quivered as they hovered an inch away from his flesh. She balled them into a fist so he couldn’t see how much he affected her. “I don’t care what you do. It’s your business, but I better not see your perfect ass on stage in twenty minutes.”

 

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