Atlantis Rising wop-1 Page 17

  Ven suddenly whistled, staring at Quinn with admiration evident in his gaze. "Takes a street fighter to recognize another one. You're in the rebellion."

  Quinn inclined her head, unsmiling. "Yeah. And telling you this could get me dead in a hurry, so consider it an even trade for what you told us about Atlantis."

  She paused, sucked in a deep breath. "I'm not just in the rebellion. I'm one of its leaders. And those wolves your pals killed? They were on my team. So I'm responsible for their deaths."

  Quinn snapped her mouth closed when Brennan walked into the room, staring at him with suspicion.

  "It's okay, Quinn, this is Brennan," Riley reassured her sister. "He—"

  "He has a nifty trick of burying his emotions way, way down, doesn't he?" Quinn said, eyes narrowing. "I almost didn't feel them at all, dude. Nice hostility, by the way. How'd you manage, the emotional block?"

  Chapter 23

  Riley stared through the window into the night. "I can't believe she left. I can't believe my sister, the rebel leader, just took off into the night on an urgent mission. I keep thinking I'm trapped in a B movie, and I'm going to wake up any minute."

  Conlan couldn't stay away from her any longer. He'd watched her courage as she'd learned and accepted everything he and her sister had thrown at her that day.

  It had been far too long since he'd touched her, and his hands craved the feel of her skin. In two strides, he crossed the bedroom and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so sorry, mi amara. I hate that you were forced into this rude awakening to the ugly reality of what's going on now."

  She pulled away and turned to face him, hands fisted on her hips. "Ugly reality? You want to talk to me about ugly reality? My clients routinely kill each other in their homes. Their babies are born addicted to crack and then sometimes starve to death before I can get them any help at all, thanks to Senator 'I'm a master vampire' Barnes and his slash-and-burn job on social services for humans. So don't tell me about ugly reality."

  He leaned against the wall, forcing himself to stay back from her, in spite of his body's demands that he pull her close again. "Children are often the first casualties of war."

  She spun on her heel and walked away from him, then sank down to sit on the bed. Putting her head in her hands, she moaned. Then she looked him in the eyes. "When did it become a war? Nobody declared a war, not that I know of, and yet suddenly I'm on the front lines."

  He crossed to her, sat next to her. Everything in him rebelled against the words that he forced out, but she'd earned his respect with her courage.

  She deserved her freedom.

  "If you want out, just say the word. I believe that your empath power may be enormously helpful to us in our battle to protect your people. That is the truth."

  She said nothing, merely gazed at him, unmoving. Her emotions shielded from him.

  "But this is also the truth," he rasped. "Somehow, I have feelings for you beyond anything I ever dreamed possible. Even now, my body is raging at me to take you. To strip you bare and have you underneath me on this bed."

  She gasped a little, but didn't move away. Conlan chose to take that as a hopeful sign.

  "I need you, Riley. Yes, Atlantis needs you. We need to study this power you have and see if we can duplicate it. If Quinn hadn't convinced us that her mission was so urgent, I would have tried to persuade her to come with us, too."

  "She felt emotions from Brennan, Conlan. That has to give him hope."

  "May it not be false hope. Brennan deserves better than what life has doled out to him."

  He tried to focus. Tried not to be distracted by the scent of her. By the desire swamping him. "The aknasha ability—we hope to discover if it can be used against us. Or maybe used for us. But, in spite of this need—both of these needs—in spite of my duty as future king of the Seven Isles, I would let you go."

  He clenched his hands together to keep from forcibly keeping her with him, prayed that he'd keep it together until she left. He was a man and had enough dignity to want that.

  Not that he wasn't close to begging.

  "Once I would have taken. Now, knowing you, I ask. But you need to tell me now. You need to stand up and walk out of this room right now. I'll ask Ven to take you anywhere you want—somewhere safe. But it has to be now."

  He finally turned to look at her, his body clenched so tightly he thought he might snap. Burning with need, yet icy with fear that she would go. "Because if you stay, I'll take it as a yes. Yes to Atlantis, to our cause, but—most of all—yes to me."

  She reached up to touch his face with one trembling hand. "Conlan—"

  He yanked his head away from her. "Don't you get it? My self-control is gone," he snarled. "All I've got left is a bare shred of dignity over a furnace of want. You have to get the hell away from me now."

  He jumped up off the bed, away from temptation. Away from the woman who was, somehow, everything he'd ever wanted. He closed his eyes and stood, head bent, shoulders heaving with the effort it cost him to keep from stretching her out on the bed and taking her mouth with his own.

  Taking her body.

  Finally, finally, he heard her light footsteps as she began to walk across the floor. The footsteps that would carry her away from him. He flinched as a pain greater than any Anubisa had ever administered washed through him, searing the heart he'd thought gone forever.

  Then the footsteps stopped.

  And she stood in front of him, her eyes enormous in her pale face.

  "I'm not going anywhere, Conlan. My answer is yes."

  Riley looked up at Conlan, aware deep in her heart that she'd just made the most important choice of her life. He stared down at her, eyes widening, then threw his head back, muscles in his neck straining, as he gulped in air like a drowning man.

  Then he exploded into motion. He wrapped his arms around her and yanked her into his body so quickly she let out a little sound when her breasts pressed into his chest. He tightened one arm around her waist and lifted the other to wrap his palm around the back of her head.

  "Thank you, mi amara," he whispered, his lips inches from her own. "Thank you for this gift."

  She almost had time to worry—it had been so long, she didn't really know him—and then his mouth came down on hers. And, as his emotions opened to her, she realized that she'd never known any man so well as she knew this one.

  She wanted him with every ounce of her being. His lips were soft and firm and exactly right, and he kissed with the passion of a man who was starving for her. She pressed closer to him, desperate to feel all of him against her, wanting more and more and more.

  Conlan pulled back from her a little, his breathing harsh. He'd known that she tasted like warmth and sunlight and sweet, clean passion. But now she tasted like something even better.

  She tasted like she was his.

  He crushed his mouth to hers again, needing to feel her compliance. Her surrender. Her acceptance of his desire and his need. "Now," he said, hearing the pleading in his own voice, not caring. "Please. Now."

  "Yes," she said, curling her arms around his neck. "Yes, please. Now."

  He swept her up off the ground and carried her to the bed, kissing her the entire time. In seconds, he was locking the door and then back at the bed. He stripped off his shirt on the way, desperate to feel her skin on his.

  She lay there, her hair spread across the pillows, his fantasy come true. He wanted to weep from the joy of it.

  Wanted to roar out his possession to the world.

  He did neither. Simply touched her. Finally, finally, touched her.

  Riley trembled when Conlan eased his body down on the bed next to hers. Somehow his chest and shoulders seemed even bigger without his shirt. He was a wall of muscle, but she'd seen past the proud warrior exterior to the man inside.

  When he touched her, fingers gently stroking her cheek, then her neck, she noticed that she wasn't the only one trembling.

  The realization sent her reeling that final st
ep over the edge of any remaining inhibition. This big, tough warrior who could stand and battle vampires and shape-shifters and anything else that went bump in the night wanted her so badly his hands were shaking.

  She pulled his head down to hers and smiled. "Kiss me. Kiss me and make me feel safe again," she whispered.

  The heat of the blue-green flame burning in his eyes scorched her nerve endings, sending warmth and wetness straight to her center. Her breasts felt fuller, tighter, as though they wanted the weight of him against them.

  She arched up against him and, before he had a chance to obey her request, she took control.

  She kissed him. Softly, gently.

  His scent surrounded her. Spicy and warm and male, and suddenly gentle was not on the agenda.

  She moaned and kissed him, lips capturing his, tongue diving into his mouth. She wrapped one leg around his legs and pulled him down to her, wanting, craving, needing to feel his hardness against her.

  • Conlan thought he might possibly have died and gone to the mountain of the gods. Riley was setting him on fire, pulling him into her and kissing him like she was starving and he was dessert.

  Which gave him ideas.

  Really, really great ideas.

  He pulled away from her lips and kissed a path across her cheek and down to her neck, where he bit and suckled at her, reveling in her throaty moans. With one hand, he pushed at her shirt, moving it up to bare her warm belly, sliding his fingers further up until he cupped the underside of her breast.

  She gasped at the touch and arched into his hand. "Touch me, please touch me, Conlan."

  He rolled over and pulled her up, yanking her shirt over her head, then kissed her again, his tongue plunging inside to claim her mouth. It was a hard kiss, a branding kiss.

  Mine. Mine. Always mine.

  The thought came from so far inside him he didn't recognize the source. A primal urge to mark her, to claim her, to carry her off to his palace and never let her go shook his body with the force of it. He knew she could feel it, because her emotions suddenly registered shock through her empathic connection to him.

  Then she smiled beneath his lips and sent waves of acceptance to him. She was feeling strong, sure in her uniquely feminine power over him, and she let him know it.

  His body tightened at the feeling and the colors of her arousal in his body, in his brain. His cock hardened to the point of pain inside his suddenly too-tight pants. Pulling away from her mouth, he looked at the round and perfect breasts filling out the bits of lace that covered them. He wanted his mouth on them.

  With one hand, he worked at the tiny clasp, groaning in frustration when it didn't come undone immediately. She laughed and captured his hand in her own.

  "What's the matter? The big, bad warrior can't figure out a simple bra clasp?" she teased, voice husky and warmth shining from her eyes, her happiness sparkling like fairy dust in his mind.

  "The big, bad warrior is going to bite it off with his teeth if you don't help," he replied. Then he bent down and took her nipple in his mouth, right through the fabric, and she arched up off the bed, moaning.

  With his other hand, he caressed her other breast, cupping and squeezing it. Rubbing his thumb over her nipple in rhythm with suckling its twin. Her moans grew more frantic, and she clutched at his back while her head whipped back and forth on the pillow. "Oh, please, oh, please."

  He released her nipple from his mouth, blew warm air on it, and watched the shudder rip through her body. "Please what, Riley? Say it."

  "Please. I need you." She put her hands on his head and urged him up toward her mouth. But he wasn't done yet. He moved his mouth to her other breast and replaced his thumb with his mouth. Hardened even more when her body jerked up against his and she rubbed her core against him, wordlessly pleading. He gently bit her nipple and she gasped, then moaned out his name.

  "Now, damn you, now. I need you inside me now," she said, breathing harshly, eddies of passion and sharp, spiking desire flowing from her emotions and through him.

  "Yes," he ground out. "Yes, I'm going to take you now."

  Riley stared up at the man who'd driven her nearly insane with wanting, almost not recognizing him beneath the ferocious and primal need stamped on his face.

  Maybe she wasn't the only one going out of her mind, here.

  He rolled over and bent to throw off his boots and socks, then stood and stripped his pants off in one violent motion. When he stood before her, proud and tall and gloriously naked, she caught her breath. "You're beautiful," she whispered, reaching out to touch one muscled thigh. His erection, as big as the rest of him, strained, jerking a little, at her touch so near to it.

  She wanted to taste it.

  He laughed a little. "I am a warrior. Scarred and worn, definitely not beautiful. But you ... you make the gods themselves weep with envy at your beauty."

  He reached for her hands, pulled her to stand next to him. Then his fingers were at her waist, unfastening her jeans, and she was suddenly as naked as he.

  For an instant, she was shy. Then he put his hands on her, and she was frantic with need. "Touch me, Conlan. Kiss me and touch me everywhere. I want your hands on me."

  It was his turn to groan, and he captured her head in both hands and swooped down to kiss her with such possession and fire that her heart seemed to skip a beat or two. She caught at his shoulders, trying to hold herself up on knees gone weak.

  He ran his hands down her body, lightly touching her arms, then her hips, then stroking up the plane of her back. She trembled and pushed against him, loving the feeling of his hardness against her. Wanting it inside her.

  As if he could hear her, he ran his hands down the front of her body, cupping her breasts on the way. She moaned again, wanting him to stop torturing her.

  Wanting him never to stop.

  Wanting more.

  His hands continued their path, now stroking down her . belly and then, finally, one traced a path through the curls between her legs and lightly across the heat of her.

  He raised his face to look at her, fierce triumph in his smile. "You're wet for me, Riley. You're drenched for me."

  "I… oh—" Before she could form the words to answer him, he drove two fingers inside her, and she lost the ability to speak.

  She clenched around his fingers and nearly cried out at the pleasure of it. "Oh, yes, Conlan. Yes, please, more."

  Conlan sent a prayer of thanks to whatever gods would hear him. She was so responsive to him, so hot, so wet. As she tightened around his fingers, he thought he might lose all control and ejaculate before he ever entered the sweet wetness of her body.

  He'd never felt passion with this crashing force before.

  Damaged goods, princeling. The hated voice whispered through him, stopping him, freezing him—but only for an instant.

  Then Riley opened her eyes and stared straight into his soul. "No. No. She's not here—she'll never hurt you again. Don't let her in, Conlan."

  She kissed him, deliberately clenched her warmth around his fingers again. "Feel me. I'm real. I'm here. Don't let her win."

  Something burst in his heart. "Yes, yes, mi amara. You are here for me. You are mine. She is less than nothing," he rasped out, words fervent as a prayer.

  He withdrew his fingers, and Riley whimpered a little, but then he swept her up into his arms and dropped her on the bed. She blinked, seemed to come back from some far distance, and shook her head a little. "We… I… protection. I'm safe, but—"

  He understood instantly, since her feelings were open to him. "No, we are immune. I can't even catch a cold from you, nor you from me, my beautiful one. And we cannot produce children without the ritual of fertility being blessed by Poseidon."

  She nodded, feeling the truth of his words in his emotions. Then she held her arms up to him and smiled with such sensuous promise that his knees turned to water.

  As he dove down to cover her body with his own, he opened his heart to her. Threw off any remainin
g emotional shields, so she could feel the great gift she'd given him.

  Then he pulled her knees up on either side of his hips and drove into her all the way to the hilt in one stroke, roaring out his pleasure.

  Gasping out her name.

  Resting his forehead against hers, he labored for breath. "Mine, Riley. Say it. You're mine."

  She caught his face in her hands and drew him down to her mouth. "I'm yours, Conlan."

  She kissed him with all the passion he could feel in her soul. She looked up at him, blue eyes warm and glowing, and smiled at him again. "And you're mine, too."

  Riley's body arched to meet him. The emotion that washed through him and into her was a revelation. Awe… astonishment. Simple gratitude.

  He had never belonged to anyone. Had never been wanted just for himself since he was a child.

  His gratitude transformed into a tsunami of passion, tempered with warmth, and he shared it all with her through their bond. She shuddered underneath him, and something in him seemed to snap.

  "I'm sorry, Riley, but I don't have any more control," he managed, grinding out the words. "I'm going to take you now, and it's going to be hard and fast. I promise I'll try for finesse later, but—"

  She held a finger up to his lips and smiled, feminine power shining in her eyes. "Less talking. More action."

  With a shout of joy, he pulled back and thrust into her again, his body catching the rhythm that was older than even Atlantis. Older than the gods themselves.

  She arched into him in time with his thrusts and he rode her, stroked her, thrust into her again and again while he felt her body tightening around him and the tension building and building inside her.

  Riley had never felt anything like it before. The heat and slick tension, the coiling electricity of his body pumping inside her, the hard muscles working under her fingers, the glow in his eyes showing her that he was loving every minute of it as much as she did.

  It was all driving her over the edge. Every nerve ending in her body sang. The pressure climbed in a starburst crescendo until she exploded, free-falling into space, fingers digging into his shoulders to keep from cartwheeling off the edge of the world.