Saved by the Sea Lord (Lords of Atlantis Book 9)

by Starla Night

  “With no leader, how do they accomplish anything?”

  “Well, that’s why I said the leaders pulled back. They do have one. Several ones. Somebody’s funding the surveillance equipment and the lobbying. Starr has been trying to follow the money, and she’s not the only one. When they brought down Ciran and Dannika’s airplane, a couple of peons got arrested with incriminating evidence of a bigger structure, and that was a federal crime. We’ll get them eventually. It’s just a matter of time.”

  His fellow warriors did not have time. They were being hurt now. “Humans are not taking enough action.”

  “I feel you. One hundred percent.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “Dannika says the only way to stop a group like this is to expose the leaders. Show how crude, small, or ugly they are. The mystery disappears and the organization crumbles. I don’t know if that’s true, but I hope she’s right.”

  How infuriating. “One member must know something.”

  “I thought so too until I sent a friend to record a meeting. It was chaos. I couldn’t watch the whole thing. My friend told me I’d stopped before the lowest point.”

  Despite the setback, a meeting was his best starting point. Lotar often noticed small things other warriors missed. He would identify and stalk the members until they revealed the leader. And then he would decide whether to wait for human justice.

  “I will go to the meeting.”

  “Okay.” She swiped on her phone. “You just missed the last one. It’s New York, though, so there’s going to be a meeting somewhere… Huh. Oh. Because it’s summer quarter, they’re down to once a month, and most are on a long break, so…yeah.” She shook her head. “It’s going to be, like, a month.”

  A month?

  Impossible.

  Impossible!

  Hazel shifted her bags from one arm to the other. “That’s a long wait considering you need to get on the All-Cities Gyre. I’m going to see that friend tonight, and if you want, he could tell you about his experience. He might still have the recording.”

  Lotar could not sense souls via a recording.

  But perhaps he would catch something useful. Participants’ features. Distinctive voices, gaits. Then he could patrol the area until their currents crossed.

  “I want,” he said.

  Her smile flashed.

  His body throbbed with awareness.

  …Throb?

  He was not supposed to throb.

  Hazel rummaged in a bag and passed him a small, thin rectangle. “Here’s a crash course on how to ride the subway. Keep walking, swipe at the right speed, don’t talk to anyone, don’t make eye contact. And do. Not. Stare. Got it?”

  He nodded.

  “Take a deep breath. Let’s go.” She veered for clanking metal bars, passed her card over a red light, and pushed through.

  He mirrored her, and they descended beneath the city.

  The sheer volume of humanity made him want to reach for his daggers.

  Which he’d stored under the marina per the agreement to climb onto the United States land.

  Hazel stopped at the confluence of two tunnels. The other humans waved air at their sweating faces and tugged on their sticky, damp clothes.

  All averted their gazes except one young fry. “Look, Dad. His tattoos are shiny.”

  The father, who had adorned his own skin with multicolored honor markings, closed his hand over his young fry’s finger. “Don’t be a tourist.”

  The young fry leaned against his father, trusting in him, and stared at the iridescent gray tattoos recording Lotar’s history and accomplishments.

  A second, older young fry stood on the father’s other side.

  Two young fry.

  The father kept his hands on both, protecting them equally.

  A sliver of pain embedded itself in Lotar’s chest.

  He sucked in a breath of warm air—calming techniques were so different above the water—and released it slowly. His heart pulsed in a steady beat.

  Most warriors would smile at this display of fatherhood. And two young fry. Such abundance! They would ache for young fry of their own.

  Not Lotar.

  Only days ago by surface time, Second Lieutenant Ciran had summoned Lotar to a human yacht. “King Kadir and Queen Elyssa have adopted the human tradition of a welcome party. You will convey the invitation personally to all cities.”

  He had stilled. “All cities?”

  “Across the oceans, yes. For too long, we have isolated in our dwindling castles, a slave to the information shared via the echo points or by the All-Council. Now, an Atlantis warrior will spread hope and offer friendship. To reopen the All-Cities Gyre, knowing that no one has completed it in generations, King Kadir has chosen you.”

  Electricity had sparked in Lotar’s heart.

  His king had chosen him.

  He was worthy.

  Or, at least, one king thought him so.

  “You are closest to the MerMatch offices in New York,” Second Lieutenant Ciran had continued, his green-and-brown irises focused on strategy as always. “Go there first and seek your bride.”

  The yacht had slanted at an uncomfortable angle. Sunlight had burned Lotar’s eyes. “I swim alone.”

  “Yes, I know.” Second Lieutenant Ciran had guessed his discomfort. “A bride will reduce your ability to observe and scout. But consider. Even the most conservative cities will hesitate to attack a warrior with his bride.”

  “I fear no attack.”

  “Yes, but on this mission, you must not only deliver the invitation to each city. You must also become King Kadir’s ambassador.”

  “And only your bride can soothe the kraken.” Queen Dannika had slipped her arm around her husband’s waist and rested her head against his shoulder. Her belly had swelled with young fry. “Since Ciran and I accidentally freed her from her prison, she’s dangerous to everyone underwater, even when she doesn’t mean to be. She can cause a tidal wave by turning too fast.”

  Lotar had easily avoided the kraken so far.

  “And once your bride embraces her destiny, she can develop the power to heal, shield, or push away danger,” Queen Dannika had continued. “You’ll even swim faster. The more warriors I match, the more convinced I am that mer are designed to travel as soul mate pairs.”

  Second Lieutenant Ciran had gently rubbed her belly. “As am I.”

  Their souls had glowed in unison. Their resonance had been nearly blinding.

  Lotar had seen queen powers before. Once, they had been legends. Everyone had assumed them to be lies of ancient times. But queens in Atlantis had performed such feats, healing warriors from impossible injuries and defeating armies by channeling the Life Tree.

  And finding their soul mates had made the warriors faster, stronger. More determined.

  But he was different.

  Lotar had never encountered a situation he was not better suited to handle alone.

  “Hey.” Hazel glanced up at him, breaking him out of his memory. “Is it true that you know your soul mate as soon as you set eyes on her?”

  Her question riveted him.

  As did her open face, her cascading hair, her friendly eyes. Her slim shoulders, the curve of her neck he wanted to curl his fingers around, the glistening pink of her lips. Her soft breasts and the hints of curves, from his memory of walking behind her down the stairs—her bare knees, calves, her ankles he wanted to bite. Mark for himself. Claim.

  His heart sped.

  Until this moment, he had avoided looking at her for very long.

  Or very directly.

  And now?

  Heat pooled in his groin, and his heartbeat localized, thudding with anticipation.

  He must close the breaths of distance between them. Tear her bags out of the way, shred her coverings. Press his lips to hers.

  Mine.

  The brilliant light in her chest resonated with his glowing brighter and brighter. I am your soul mate. I am your bride. I am your one.
r />   He had not come here for a bride.

  Lotar tore his gaze away. “Sometimes.”

  “But you have to be face-to-face, right? You can’t figure it out over the phone or by video.”

  He dipped his head in assent.

  “And the sacred islands used to have a few hundred brides? But you came to Miami, a metropolis with half a million, and never found yours?”

  It was true.

  And a reason he’d thought he’d be safe in New York. So, he must be mistaken about Hazel.

  His chest throbbed.

  He was not mistaken.

  Sweat beaded on her upper lip.

  He wanted to taste it.

  He wanted to taste her.

  But he must not.

  Because unlike the other warriors, Lotar’s heart was not pure. His soul was not honorable. And if he claimed her, their union would not give her strength.

  He would take her, drain her, consume her until she collapsed and cursed his name for her terrible fate.

  Three

  Lotar’s thoughts were thankfully interrupted. High pitched screeching grated on his teeth like the squeal of a wounded kingfish.

  Air whooshed and the tunnel filled with connected metal cars. They slowed to a stop.

  Doors opened. Humans flooded out, and suddenly the line waiting to enter stampeded away from the car in front of them.

  Good.

  He ambled forward.

  “Oh, no.” Hazel grabbed his shirt covering and tugged him back. “Never enter an empty car on a crowded subway. Trust me.”

  He studied the car as they pushed forward onto the crowded car.

  A dim-souled man shouted at a blank wall and clawed at a seat.

  Ah.

  He stepped over the gap onto the subway car. Hazel kept a hold of his shirt hem and pulled him down the aisle, squeezing between rows of seated and standing humans. She ducked and compressed her many bags like the eight-tentacled cave guardian squeezing itself into a tiny cave.

  Hazel released his shirt and hooked an elbow against a metal pole, rebalanced her many bags, pecked at her phone, and sipped her sweating iced coffee.

  The doors closed, and the subway rumbled. Its movement pressed his weight into the metal. A thub-thub-thub pressured his ears.

  So many heartbeats echoed around him in the small space. An entire mer city’s worth of souls glowed in this one car. And although he sensed gazes on him, the other humans diligently avoided eye contact. No one spoke or moved.

  Then the car slowed and stopped.

  “The subway is experiencing a delay,” a disembodied voice announced, and the humans in the subway groaned. “We apologize. Please remain in your car as we may move unexpectedly.”

  “Of all the days.” Hazel tapped her forehead against the pole. “I should have known.”

  Several more stops and starts followed the delay. At one station, Hazel was near the door when it opened, and a waft of scratchy, irritating air gusted in. Everyone covered their mouths. Hazel coughed, backed away, and waved her hand. “Ugh. That’s the mace I was telling you about.”

  An attack right in the lungs? How effective against humans.

  Another passenger passed out small wet squares with a liquid called milk of magnesia. The white substance removed the irritant from her skin and bags but was not effective on fabric. She removed her outer coverings and placed them in a bag.

  By the time they reached their destination and exited, Hazel faced him on the busy street with a dilemma.

  “I’m off in five minutes. Did you want to go to the office? Pick up bride profiles?”

  “No.”

  “Right, because you don’t want to meet any brides. Too bad for them.”

  For them?

  Not for her?

  Her thumbs flashed over the phone screen. “Okay, I think we can get a rideshare over here.”

  He strolled after her. “You have no wish to become a bride?”

  “Oh, I work for MerMatch. I’m not a candidate.”

  Good.

  But instead of relief, a squiggly sensation of alarm awoke deep in his abdomen.

  “Ugh. Why are all the ride shares disappearing?” She pivoted. “Try this way. I think we can catch one more easily up here. Oh, there is no way I’m getting across town in this traffic.”

  He followed her across the streets. “Why not?”

  “Hmm? Because it’s—wait. You mean, why am I not a candidate? Look at me.” She stopped at a corner, standing slightly apart from the crowd, and gestured at her body. “Do I look like a bride?”

  Yes.

  With her soft brown hair brushing her cheeks, her strong arms easily carrying heavy weights for hours, and her chest glowing with fierce devotion, she looked overwhelmingly like a bride.

  Mine.

  The urge to claim her welled in his soul, flooding his body with heat. He needed to grab her arms and tear the weights off. Unburden her, strip her, kiss her. Start at her crown, work down to her toes and up again, until he knew every inch and she knew he was hers forever.

  You are mine.

  Her smile faded and brown eyes unfocused. Her lips parted and her chin lifted. Readying herself for his kiss.

  His claim.

  His heart thudded. Faster and faster. His fingers twitched at his sides.

  Their bodies communicated what their mouths would not. And if she looked at him for one moment longer, he was going to forget himself and—

  The crowd suddenly strode away from them.

  She shook herself and whirled, hurrying to catch up. “Well, even if you wanted to marry me, I wouldn’t say yes. You can’t start a business underwater.”

  Huh?

  Even if…

  But he was not looking for a bride.

  Why was he upset?

  Everything was wrong. Everything was upside down.

  “Ooh, and here’s my rideshare!” She hurried to a car sliding perpendicular into a spot a few feet from them. “Get in before someone steals it.”

  He should not spend more time with her.

  Even though watching her friend’s video was the only way to proceed against the Sons of Hercules.

  He stopped beside her.

  “Are you coming?” She waved from the open door. “Hey. Are you all right?”

  No.

  Definitely not.

  Absolutely no.

  “Yes,” he said and entered the car.

  Four

  Hazel was one hundred percent not excited to bring Lotar to her meetup.

  Even though her heart wanted to burst from her chest, she nearly bounced out of her mules, and she kept humming the opening to the Sound of Music, which was currently showing on Broadway.

  Definitely not excited.

  Not for the whole rideshare, with her pepper-sprayed blazer tucked into a plastic shopping bag (secured with a twisty tie, both from her mini backpack) and a little tingle in her nose.

  Their driver sneezed. “So, you guys new in town? Or what?”

  “I’m not. He is.” She texted her meetup friends plus Dannika to give updates.

  “Yeah? Where you from? Those tattoos—you like an albino Maori or something like that?”

  Lotar’s gray eyes fixed on her.

  Sizzles of awareness fizzed in her belly. “He’s from Atlantis.”

  “Yeah? That ocean city, huh? That makes him one of those mermen. I watch the news. I know about stuff.” He sneezed again and rubbed his nose. “Allergies are bad today.”

  Yeah, his allergy to mace.

  Aw, poor guy. “You can let us out here.”

  “Here? Right here? You got it.” He sneezed a third time and pulled over a few blocks from the restaurant.

  She tipped the driver hazard pay through the app and set off.

  Lotar ambled after her. His gaze was constantly moving, and he missed nothing. He fixed on her with an acuteness that set the butterflies in her stomach aflutter.

  But unlike her usual hookups, a m
erman didn’t fall in and out of love. He stayed, pinned by devotion.

  Forever.

  Goose bumps crinkled up her arms.

  She rubbed them down.

  Hello. Getting ahead of herself much?

  Yes, his iridescent gray gaze sent little licks of fire through her veins, but when a merman found his bride, the whole world knew it.

  Ciran had emerged on the docks, back when there weren’t as many rules about mermen coming onto land, and he’d moved on Dannika within the first minute. While Hazel had been busy juggling shorts and shirts and flip-flops for the nude warriors and trying not to get too big of an eyeful—and the emphasis was on big—he’d declared to the world that Dannika was his soul mate.

  It had been kind of funny to watch her serene, suave boss blush and drop her pens. Dannika had the same capacity to be awkward as Hazel, yet she was usually an articulate, well-put-together, amazing director who dined with senators and spoke with CEOs.

  How could Hazel ever go from frumpy wannabe to Dannika-level grace?

  But anyway, the other warriors had nabbed their brides right away. If more than five minutes passed, the speed date was over. No match.

  She’d finally point-blank asked him. Hey. Is it true that you know your soul mate as soon as you set eyes on her?

  No one had ever accused Hazel of being subtle.

  But a desperate need required an immediate answer.

  And Lotar had stared at her for a hot, gorgeous, intense minute and uttered a meaningless answer. Sometimes.

  But he kept looking at her.

  Even now. As she dragged him across town because she’d felt guilty about subjecting an innocent driver to a chemical irritant. “At least there’s no pepper spray underwater. Right?”

  They stopped at a light.

  His quiet voice sounded dangerously close to her ear. “There are worse things underwater.”

  If he was trying to scare her, he’d have to do it in a voice that didn’t sound like it belonged in her bedroom—followed by the sensual graze of his teeth. “Like what?”

  “Poisons. Traps. Predators.”

  “Like sharks?”

  His gray-with-silver gaze focused on her. He was the only shark. So near she could almost feel his breath over the humid evening. Wet like his tongue on her. “Worse.”