by N. R. Larry
Atlantis Uprising
The Lost Atlanteans, Book One
N.R. Larry
Contents
1. Zarya
2. Jett
3. Zarya
4. Marlowe
5. Zarya
6. Zarya
7. Conway
8. Zarya
9. Marlowe
10. Zarya
11. Jett
12. Zarya
13. Conway
14. Zarya
15. Marlowe
16. Zarya
Epilogue
About the Author
Atlantis Uprising © N.R. Larry
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Cover art by Rebecca Frank: https://www.facebook.com/groups/bewitchingbookcovers/
Created with Vellum
To my girls: L, E, and M and here’s to our tagline: When you’re here, you’re here!
1
Zarya
If I had to bake one more batch of cookies, someone was going to wind up dead for no good reason. After all, I hadn’t killed anyone in weeks, and I was a warrior, not a pastry chef.
A thick plume of smoke and a high-pitched alarm dropped me from my thoughts, or more accurately, my pity party. I glanced down at the stainless-steel oven. Smoke was twisting out of its corners and the smell of burnt metal and chocolate met my nose. I sighed and threw my hands in the air. Grabbing an oven mitt, I snatched the tray of burned crisps from the oven and tossed them into the sink. Then, I kicked the oven door closed. I felt tight, and dried up, and useless—and now, I didn’t even have any fucking cookies.
“Who the hell burns slice-and-bake cookies?” a deep voice asked from behind me.
I gritted my teeth and turned on the water. It sizzled against the metal. Smoke and steam rushed into my face. The perfect metaphor for my presence in this ridiculous place.
The voice came again. “You are worried.”
Slowly, I ran my tongue across my bottom lip and waited for the sizzle in the sink to stop. When it did, I turned off the water and gripped the edge of the counter. He’d always been like this, so sure of everything. He never asked questions. The most annoying part was that he was usually right.
Slowly, I turned around and tried to keep my face expressionless. It was a useless gesture. There was nothing I could hide from him, even though sometimes I wished he’d at least pretend that I could.
I narrowed my eyes at the black, large-framed glasses on his face. “How are those things working?” I sauntered toward him, stepping right into the water he was dripping all over the kitchen floor. A rush burst through me at the feel of it. My tongue felt dry. My body was greedy for water at this point.
Marlowe frowned and tried getting a better look at me. I snatched the glasses from his face and turned around. The sound of my hair smacking him in the face almost made me smile.
Almost.
As I stared down at one of my more useful inventions, I said, “You really have to start wearing the clothes.”
I could almost picture him snapping the lining of his sharkskin shorts, and I almost smiled again. “I am wearing clothes.”
“You know what I mean,” I said with a false lecture in my voice. “Human clothes.”
“Why put on human clothes when you won’t even allow us to leave this apartment?”
I ran my fingers across the dark citrine I’d constructed his glasses from. When I turned around, his skin was turning a shade of green that revealed who he was. I scanned him up and down, wanting to let the change complete itself. I could smell the ocean on him. If I closed my eyes, I could hear the rush of waves in his movements. With a sigh, I planted the glasses back onto his face.
The change stopped. His skin rippled, and the green raced back, being chased as it was by the deep, almost golden color that Marlowe was here. His eyes even flickered, turning a shade of honey amber that made me hungry.
I shivered.
“You need to soak,” he said, taking hold of my wrist.
I shuddered and pulled away from him, rubbing my dry skin where he had touched it, beating the heat down to my toes.
“I’ll soak when he is back.” Avoiding his gaze, I glanced over at the clock on the stove. More than two hours had passed since I stupidly sent Jett out. Soon, I would have to admit that I had no idea what I was doing. I would have to admit that I decided to put all our lives in the hands of one surface woman. I should have told them everything before I made them leave with me. I hoped it wasn’t too late.
I couldn’t stand being in the kitchen any longer. Probably had something to do with a lack of cookies. I traipsed around the corner and sank into the plain, white couch with its rough fabric that irritated my skin.
Marlow was right in front of me.
“I should have gone myself.”
“He’s fine,” he said in his over-confident way. “Probably stopped for something shiny.”
I glared at him. “That isn’t funny.”
He cupped his hand over his mouth to hide the smile from me.
“This is serious,” I added, more for myself than for him.
He dropped his hand and nodded.
I sighed, closed my eyes, and tried to settle back into the sofa. “I see Conway is still asleep.”
Marlowe gave a low chuckle. “He’s burned out on the internet porn Jett introduced him to.” He sucked on his teeth. “I mean you grow up hearing surface stories, but it’s even better than I could have ever imagined.”
I opened my eyes and tried to hide most of my horror. “Are you serious about the internet porn?”
Before he could answer, there was a loud click from the hallway. I sat up and darted my gaze toward the front door.
“It’s the people across the hall,” he said. “They always leave around this time.”
With a loud sigh, I plopped back against the cushions.
Marlowe kneeled in front of me and extended his hand. “Zar, you’re really drying out. Your plan won’t work out for any of us if you’re dead.”
I frowned. “The plan isn’t much of a plan.” I fiddled with the edge of my plain, cotton t-shirt. “Hell, it isn’t much of a thought.”
He wiggled his fingers.
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Your stubbornness won’t bring him back any sooner.”
I pursed my lips for a few moments before finally nodding. He reached the rest of the way toward me, clasped my hand, and pulled me from the couch. I squeezed his fingers, remembering the softness of his skin, trying to let myself enjoy it. The way he led me to the tiny bathroom almost made me smile again. Marlowe was always good for a grin. He walked with me there with a deliberate slowness, as if every moment he spent with me was worth stretching out.
A week ago, I mig
ht have agreed with him. Now, it was hard to move past the guilt of what I’d done to him—of what I’d done to all of us.
He dropped my hand at the door and sauntered toward the small bathtub, where he dropped to one knee and began to run the water. As always, I enjoyed his movements. He could make something so simple—the act of turning on the faucet, the way he tested the temperature with his fingers—seem like an underwater dance.
I couldn’t help but respond to him.
I bit into my lower lip. Now was not the time. Not even close.
The tub filled within minutes, one of the things I actually appreciated about this crappy apartment, and Marlowe stood and turned to me, a half smile on his lips. He lifted an eyebrow in my direction. The motion was subtle and filled with the kind of flirtation that made me want to giggle like a virgin mermaid.
He almost danced back toward me and tugged at the bottom of my shirt. “Get in.” His tone had darkened, like a smooth wave washing over me. “I have to get something.”
When he left, I forced out a shaky breath and considered locking him out, only because I needed to focus. I had to assure that my contact could be trusted, and that I had not risked the very lives I was supposed to protect.
I yanked my shirt over my head and slipped out of my shorts, and then lowered myself into the tub. I closed my eyes and let the water sink into my skin, which it did hungrily. Marlowe was right. I was drying out. The water here was hard and far from pure, but it was better than nothing. I slid all the way down, dunking my face under the water. My multicolored hair fanned out in front of me like a coral reef display, so many greens and blues mixed together. It began to lengthen once again, although I knew it wouldn’t go back to normal—not until I was home again—if I was ever home again.
The door opened, and without surfacing, I darted my gaze toward the sound. Marlowe crept toward me, a smug smile on his lips. I had to admit, he made a beautiful surface man—not that his appearance here could compete with his true, Atlantean form, but I still loved looking at him.
He sat on the edge of the tub and held up three orb-shaped objects for me to inspect. Tiny pieces of home. I started to shake my head. We needed to save them, but my hair, my skin, my nails almost snapped at my rational mind to be quiet. I needed the nourishment from home. I had to be strong.
I kept my gaze on his hand as he lowered the orbs into the tub.
The water woke up, and finally, he got a smile out of me. I closed my eyes and let myself feel the bubbling activity all around me. The water oozed into my skin, and my blood drank it in. My skin and scalp warmed, and I knew I was glowing, as I usually did back home. I could smell the Caspian Sea and all its creatures in the room with me.
Marlowe placed a hand on my foot, and my eyes snapped open. He was staring down at me with a look only a familiar could manage. It was a look of perfect trust and something else, something otherworldly.
I knew I should have stopped him, but I let out a sigh instead. Most of the tension in my body flowed out into the water with the touch of his hand. He ran his fingers up the sole of my foot and across my ankle. Then, he walked those strong fingers across my calf until he was cupping my knee. His eyes narrowed as his touch continued up my thigh. Almost automatically, my legs began to open for him. My breathing went ragged and I began to feel a different kind of wetness—one that had nothing to do with the soak I was taking.
My body felt greedy. I wanted to grab his hand and take it to my core, but Marlowe moved slowly because he loved to play. He cupped my flesh in his hands and gritted his teeth, and then he slipped his strong hand across my abdomen and cupped my breast. The sensation was the good kind of painful.
Finally, I surfaced and blinked water out of my eyes and pulled him closer to me. His breathing was hard, but he still managed one of those overly confident smiles. “Now, don’t you feel better about things already?”
I grinned, not only feeling better, but feeling strong. I wanted to pull him down into that water with me, and I could have, without so much as lifting a finger. The air charged between us. My hair floated off my shoulders and wrapped around his forearms. He cupped my face in his hands. “My priestess…” He was breathless.
There was a loud click, and then the stomp of feet. Marlowe sighed, and then clenched his jaw. The look in his eyes told me that he didn’t want to pull away, but he did anyway. Seconds later, the door swung open. I glanced up and felt instantly lighter.
Jett grinned at the both of us.
Marlowe almost growled. “Perfect timing as always.”
Jett snorted and ran a hand through his long, curly black hair that fell across his broad shoulders. “Don’t blame me because you always waste time talking.” As always, there was amusement in his voice. His dark gaze settled on me. “I brought gifts and good news, my priestess, if you guys want to wrap this up.”
2
Jett
It was a good damned day anytime I could bring my priestess good news, but to bring her good news, and fuck with Lowe a little bit? Well, that made for an almost perfect morning. My smile was wide as I headed down the hallway and opened the door to the back room. I stared down at Conway’s delicate little ass and about twelve blonde jokes ran through my head. Juvenile sure, but Conway was so fun to mess with.
“Hey man.” I rapped on the wall three times. “Get up. As the surface people say, we’re burning daylight.”
Conway snapped up and his silly-ass hair fell into his eyes. Dude was begging for a haircut. Hell, the shit was almost as long as Zarya’s, but I suppose that was the siren in him. He blinked dumbly at me, and then yawned.
“Anytime, pretty boy,” I said.
He frowned. “Are we going home yet?”
I gave him a look. “Just get to the living room.”
He pulled his hair back into a ponytail, making no move to get off the damn bed.
I pointed at him. “Now.”
He waved me off in obvious annoyance. “It’s like being woken up by an anglerfish.”
I blinked. “But… much easier on the eyes, right?”
It was his turn to give me a look. I grinned, knocked on the wall again, and turned around. “Up. Now.”
When I reached the living room, Zar was sifting through my bags with an appropriate frown on her face. Of all of us, I think she hated the idea of being here the most, which had to be hard for her to deal with, because this was her call in the first place.
Me, I was loving it and ready to dive in and play this part. But I had the luxury of knowing what we were doing was right. She, on the other hand, was still struggling with her decision to leave Atlantis behind.
She gazed up at me with those eyes that housed all the colors of home. She looked better than when I left. “What is all this?” she asked, holding up a shopping bag.
I sat on the wooden coffee table and its legs creaked under my weight. Zar twisted her mouth up in that adorable way she had when she wanted to lecture you, but then decided against it. Her gaze lifted, and she smiled as Conway came traipsing in. He took a seat next to Lowe, and I gestured at the bags.
“This is part of the new us.”
Zar lifted an eyebrow and pulled out a lacy pair of panties so skimpy they really didn’t have the right to be called underwear. For a moment I forgot all the news I had and pictured her sweet ass in a pair of them. My mouth practically watered. She dangled them in front of me, a question in her eyes.
I blinked, and then cleared my throat. “When in Rome…”
She sighed and started to lower herself onto the table, and then froze. I grabbed her arm before she could rethink and forced her to sit next to me.
“So, what did you learn?” Lowe asked before Zar could get into all the reasons why it was a bad idea to sit on the coffee table because we might break it, and after all, we were squatting in the apartment of these surface people.
I clapped and grinned at all of them. “Your info was good, Zar. We can use the house. Your contact got us surface iden
tities and some cash. I used that to get a transportation device. We should leave now, she said we can contact her again once we’re there. We should also get word back to Violetta back home soon as we can.”
Zar eyed me and nodded. “So, we’re really doing this then.” She shook her head. “You can still go back. The king will forgive you, it’s me….”
Lowe snorted, and I held up a hand. “We’re your familiars, Zar. We cannot go back. We’re set on this course of action.”
She started to frown, and I cleared my throat. “Also, there’s one other thing… you know, about the house. And the cover.”
Zar stared at me and I had to take my gaze away from her. I toyed with a loose thread on my surface man shorts and said, “The house is a perfect base… it also kind of happens to be haunted and I sort of told your contact that we could kind of get rid of the ghosts and kind of take care of any other magical problems for as long as we’ll need to stay in the house.” I plastered a winning smile on my face, hoping my words were too fast for her to catch all of them.
They all looked at me the way we looked at surface people when they tried to explain things like Wi-Fi hotspots and foam lattes.
Finally, Conway said, “What is haunted?”
“And what kind of magical problems does the town have?” Lowe added.
I shrugged. “Those seem like questions for you, man,” I said to Lowe. “I figured we’d deal with it when we get there.”
“Do you really think it was smart to promise our services to this woman when we have no idea if we can even help?” Lowe asked, clearly frustrated.
Zar sighed. “He was right to make the promise.” She brushed her hair back and it started to weave itself into her signature, long braid. “We are, after all, the reason that there is magical activity there in the first place.”