by D. K. Combs
Ambrose glanced at Erikos. There were still going to be a lot of problems. Still a lot of pain. Still a lot of misunderstandings. But he knew the truth, and that was enough for now.
“No, Mari. We don’t.”
Erikos exhaled sharply, and Ambrose tried not to look at his brother. He could only imagine what his brother had put himself through after all of the years Ambrose had been away. Then he heard the hitched breath and the swishing of water. Despite what he told himself he wasn’t going to do, Ambrose looked.
And instantly dropped his arms from around Mari and went to his brother.
“I am sorry,” he said softly, never meaning anything more than those three words, putting a hand on Erikos’s shoulder. “You’re my brother, my very blood. Nothing will ever break that bond.”
Erikos turned his face away, but not before Ambrose saw the redness in his brother’s eyes. Ambrose hated showing weakness. He hated touching people. He hated being touched—by anyone except Mari.
But as he saw the pain his brother felt, emotion wracked through him so hard that he couldn’t stop himself from jerking his little brother against his chest and hugging the only blooded family he had left.
Six days, eight hours, and forty-something minutes later, Mari was a complete and utter mess. They only had so many more hours—Mari had lost count while counting how long it had been since the issue had been ordered—and her head was the equivalent to a broken calculator.
And being a math teacher in high school, that wasn’t always the most preferred thing.
She paced around the room that Ambrose and she had settled into it. It wasn’t the room they’d first made love in, but it was nice and cozy and where she spent most of her time daydreaming when she wasn’t out exploring Atlantis, much to Ambrose’s and Deimos’s dismay.
The thought that Ambrose thought he could keep her inside the palace while a whole entire city waited for her to search around was…hilarious. So hilarious, in fact, that she took every chance she got to sneak off.
Mari, by the end of the day, had met at least five new people. They weren’t scary like she had thought would be, and they weren’t eccentric like she had assumed. The Atlanteans had their quirks, but the more time she spent with them, the more she came to realize that the only things that set them a part were the tails and how they lived.
They were so normal that it almost shocked her—which furthered her goal to meet new people every day. And Mari knew that even though Ambrose and Deimos didn’t like her sneaking off, she could tell that Ambrose was pleased she wasn’t cowering, poking, and crying.
Why he would have thought she would react like a simpering lady, she had no idea. Mari was more than ready to get out and live her new life!
Yes. Mari missed teaching. Yes. Mari missed her family. But did she want to leave Ambrose and Deimos for them? No. If her family somehow managed to find her and beg her to come back, Mari knew she would say no. There was no way she could ever leave Ambrose and the new life she had begun for herself. Plus, he had already warned her of the dangers for living on the surface as an Atlantean.
The last six days with him had been the best six days of her life. Mari would not have chosen any other man to be with, any other place to be.
Every single night, Ambrose made it a point to touch her, hold her. He made it a point to make her toes curl with never-ending pleasure. Made it a point to make her feel how much he cared for her since he couldn’t outright say it.
Mari didn’t mind. To her, they had all of the time in the world. Being with Ambrose, being in his arms, and knowing he wanted her like no other man had before, was enough.
She was confident that he could beat the sweet fish out of H’Sai. The poor old bastard had cornered her several times during the week, when Ambrose wasn’t near her.
He tried to get her on his side. Tried to tell her that Ambrose was nothing but a traitor and he would leave her the second he took throne. He told her about all of the women Ambrose had had, and Mari…didn’t care.
At all.
She knew who Ambrose wanted. Hell—he didn’t want her, he craved her. Every chance he got, he’d take her. Their passion was so hot and dangerous that Mari had become almost wary of how she felt when Ambrose got that look in his eyes. Like he couldn’t get enough of her and never would.
But, of course, the second she saw his legs and the second his hand caressed her body, she forgot all about the aching and the weariness. All she could think about was having him inside of her—and she swore he could read her mind because what she wanted, she got.
The thought had her shivering, a blush coming over her face.
Ambrose was, in all honesty, perfection.
And about to fight H’Sai.
The smile that had spread across her face dropped. It wasn’t that she was scared about Ambrose not winning—by the way H’Sai kept begging for her to be on his side, H’Sai himself knew he was only going to be king for a limited time—but she was worried about Ceto, and whatever had Deimos scared out of his mind for her.
Actually, he wasn’t even scared. He was terrified. To the point where she could barely get away from him for some alone time with Ambrose. Deimos was slowly becoming more fluent, and even though he talked with growls and snarls more than anything, he still found a way to tell her that she needed to be locked up.
She snorted.
Yeah. Locked up. Deimos was cute and all, but he was crazy.
Mari would sooner shoot herself than be locked up. She’d felt that way with Ray for most of their relationship, and she wasn’t going to go back to that.
Deimos was just going to have to deal with it. She was the step-in mother, not Deimos. Or Ambrose. Or any of the other guards that the two had made try to follow her around.
Keyword being “try.”
Mari wiped her hands on the scales of her waist, squaring her shoulders.
She could do this.
She was going to go out into the hall, find Ambrose, and be there for him. She would not worry about Ceto. She would not worry about the gods, she wouldn’t worry about anything except Ambrose.
With that thought in mind, she swam forward and pulled the drawing string, revealing the door. The two guards stationed on either side glanced at her impassively before snapping to attention.
“Ambrose does not want you to leave the room without his permission,” the guard on the left said.
“And he didn’t give it,” the guard on the right added hastily, both of them moving to block her from exiting the door.
Mari growled with irritation, causing both of them to step away from her. “I want to know where he is,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, tail flicking around her, showing how irate she was.
They glanced at each other.
Both of the guards were dressed in what she had taken to calling “the standard fish-suit.” Black shoulder guards, blood-red chest plates, and helmets that covered every part of their face except for their eyes. The metal, or whatever it was, was so well made that it was like a second skin, or like a layer of paint. She could easily see their faces and the shape of them, but only their eyes weren’t covered by the skin-clinging metal.
So when doubt flickered in their gazes as the two guards looked between each other, Mari barely suppressed another growl. She had to find Ambrose before she chickened out. Deimos’s warnings were in the back of her mind and slowly growing to a dull roar.
“Does sushi sound good to you?” she asked innocently. She examined her nails, then looked up at the guards from under her lashes. “I love me some sushi.”
Their eyes widened a split second before they were gesturing her down the hall. She held in her sigh of relief and followed them, already anxious to see Ambrose. Deimos was most likely with him—when he wasn’t watching Mari’s every move, Deimos chose to be around the only other man who didn’t piss himself whenever the tattooed “demon” came up to them.
The guards led her to the very end of the palace,
and they passed through black marble doors before they stopped at the blocked-off entrance. She peeked over their shoulders, about to push passed them.
“He is in training,” a guard said, blocking her.
“So? Let me in,” she demanded. When she tried to go around them, they only moved to block her.
“It’s not safe.”
“Oh, my god. Just let me—“
“Mari?” Her heart stopped at the sound of her lover’s voice before a wide smile spread over her face. One of the guards moved out of her way reluctantly and she swam forward, kissing Ambrose’s cheek.
Then she noticed the blood, bruises, and cuts.
“What the hell happened?” she asked, worry lacing her voice as she touched his cheeks gently. Small threads of his skin were already detaching and fastening the wound together, leaving only a streak of blood behind.
He shrugged, looking at the guards behind her. “I thought I said I wanted her to stay in the room.”
They shifted uncomfortably.
Her eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t aware I was a locked up pet.”
Ambrose sighed, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her out of the small room and into another area. Wonder opened her eyes as she took in the scene around her.
The room was completely black, with only two small lights glowing on opposite corners. Tiny red inscriptions were engraved all throughout the room, so microscopic that if she hadn’t been so entranced by the chamber, she wouldn’t have noticed it.
A groaning came from behind her and she whipped around to see black marble doors opening. Almost as large as the doors that led to the courtroom, the large chunks of marble parted to reveal an even more dominating room.
Instead of being completely black, the place was coated with what looked like silver—but it couldn’t be. It was so shiny that it was almost iridescent, yet at a certain angle, objects gleamed at her with a metallic cast. There were stands set up against walls that spanned about two semi-trucks in length. The ceiling was the tallest she had ever seen. So much so that if she wanted to make out the top, she had to squint.
Mari realized that the ceiling was dome-shaped, the center of it an open hole; at least, it looked like one. She doubted that what obviously looked like a training room would have an open hole where it would be easy for someone to invade them. If someone found the entrance to that hole and broke through, Mari thought, they would have complete access to the palace and to whoever was inside of it.
“I’ve been busy,” he said, shrugging.
“I can see that,” she whispered with awe.
Ambrose really had been busy. There were twenty or so Atlanteans groaning, on the ground, clutching their stomachs as if they were in intense pain. Scattered on the ground were clusters of weapons. From swords, to blades, to spears, to arrows, it was all on the ground.
“Are you beating up the big bad men?” she asked, laughing. Mari ventured forward, deeper into the spacious, almost alien-like, room. She heard the marble doors close behind her but didn’t turn around.
“Just training. The dual is in an hour and Kai said I should be prepared.”
Mari snorted. “Prepare for taking down an old man who has to use pity to gain people’s sides?”
“No,” he answered her quietly before going over to the men and helping them into a sitting position.
It was then that Mari noticed something different about him. Not the rapidly disappearing cuts or the bruises, but how he held himself, the look in his eyes.
“Kai believes that something is going to happen—not with H’Sai. Deimos is out running rounds over the palace, along with a legion of other men.”
Mari slowly moved toward him. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?”
When she put her hand on his shoulder, she felt the tensing of his shoulders and swore her own arm cramped up. “Ceto doesn’t want me to be happy,” he said lowly, eyes flashing with pain. “I already know that she’s coming.”
Her eyes widened. “How?” she breathed, kneeling down. Ambrose stared at her hard, as if this was the last time they would see each other. Her heart broke at the sight.
“Because of you. I know Ceto. I know she knows about you. You… Mari, you make me happy.” Ambrose helped the last man to his tail and gave her his full attention. The other men drifted off into the background as he took hold of her shoulders. “I don’t know how else to say it. I thought I was happy before Ceto happened, before Atlantis sunk…but what I feel for you just…”
He paused, taking a breath.
“It kills me inside. My mother and father met within days and fell in love with each other right then. It’s what I’ve always wanted. I always hoped I would get what they had—and then I met you.”
He laughed almost harshly.
“So innocent and naïve. You saved me when I thought I was passed saving, even when I didn’t deserve it. The Fates never liked me,” he said ruefully, looking away from her. A numbness settled in her chest.
“Ceto never liked me. I didn’t know how much she could…how daunting she could be. She’s in the back of your mind, like a parasite that comes back and never leaves. She sucks at your will, your happiness.”
Mari didn’t know what to say when he stopped talking. There were no words that she could have even thought to say. The numbness in her chest spread throughout her whole body, taking over her arms and legs until she could hardly force herself to breathe. The pain she felt wafting off of him physically hurt her. Her throat closed up like someone was strangling her.
“You’re my happiness, Mari. She’s going to come here, infect me, and suck at my happiness. She’ll rip you away from me and what will I have? Guilt. Shame. Ruined hope. I almost hate that I love you so much because of that. Because I know when she comes here it will be to take you away; there’s a possibility that I’m going to lose you.”
“Ambrose,” she choked out, agony tearing through her. “That won’t—“
“It will. I can feel it. Deimos can feel it.”
He inhaled sharply, jerking out of her arms. “This whole time I thought I wanted someone to love. But now that I do…now that I have you… The thought of Ceto doing something to either one of us is shredding me to pieces. I don’t know if she will take you for helping me escape, take me because she wants to avenge herself, or take both of us and make us watch each other die.
“I have…dreams. Where I watch you and her. And Mari,” he said raggedly, “they are terrible. I’ve spent every moment I had making this the best week of your life because she is coming here. For one of us or both of us.
“I couldn’t tell you—I wanted to, but I didn’t want to scare you. Gods, Mari. I’m so fucking sorry—“
Mari sobbed sharply, grabbing his shoulder. He shook her off of him, but she saw the rapid flutter of his lashes and knew he was choking back the same exact pain that she was feeling.
“I’m so fucking sorry for putting you in danger—I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t want to worry. I wanted—“
“Ambrose, please, stop,” she begged, grasping his arm and refusing to let go. “It will be okay…”
“No,” he roared, rounding on her. “It won’t. I kept this from you. I didn’t get you to protection when I should have.” Ambrose shoved a hand down his face, agony contorting his face. “And now she’s coming. She’s going to get under my skin. She’s going to find some way to hurt you—and me. Mari, I can’t lose you—But Ceto…she’s com—“
“Oh, how sweet,” a low, sultry voice drawled from the corner of the room.
Mari and Ambrose both froze as the vivacious figure stepped from the shadows. Then, slowly, Ambrose placed himself in front of her, protecting her.
She didn’t have to see to know who was making their way towards them. The voice was enough.
Ceto was there.
Something was off.
Different.
Ambrose could feel it from where he stood in front of Mari, could see it in Ce
to’s eyes. She still held herself with her usual ease, still smiled with that never-ending sneer, but there was something different about her eyes.
That didn’t stop him from feeling a fear like nothing he had ever known, though. Mari was behind him, but he could feel her trying to look at Ceto.
The minor goddess sauntered forward, hips swaying like they were their own wave. Her black nails tapped on her chin rhythmically as she eyed them, tilting her head to the side.
Black locks slid to the side, drawing a curtain over her shoulder. Wisps of it brushed against her neck.
It wasn’t the hair that kept his gaze on her neck. Bruises so deep they were black surrounded her throat, the imprint of fingers leaving an image in his mind that spoke more than her eyes did.
He narrowed them on her, feeling like something was shifting under the water. Ceto had been harmed enough that her wounds were not fully gone, and yet, here she was. Eying them like the hunter that had just caught her pray.
“That was so heartfelt,” she said with a mocking pout, coming closer until she was only a couple of feet away from them. “Really; it was so warm and sweet. I almost cried for you two—until you started talking about me.”
Ceto peered over Ambrose’s shoulder, a perfectly plucked eye brow arching delicately. “Is this your woman?”
Her voice was so kind that if Ambrose hadn’t known her, hadn’t heard that tone before, he would have thought she was earnestly curious.
Ceto was never curious. If she was interested in something, she found, controlled, and learned about it with the tenaciousness of a rabid shark. As he stared at her narrowly, he could only conclude one thing.
She wasn’t alone.
Her eyes flickered throughout the room as if searching for something, and she never looked at them for more than she had to.
“No answer?” she asked sweetly, circling them. Ambrose spread his arms out, crouching, keeping himself facing her the entire time while caging Mari behind him.
Where was Deimos? The other men? The training room was hardly left empty—soon enough, someone should show up.