Atlantis Betrayed wop-8 Read online

  “Did you hear that, sorcerer?” Evan laughed and threw an arm around his mate’s shoulders. “Are you ready to be a daddy?”

  “Have I done anything to offend you?” Christophe was getting a little tired of the man’s attitude. Sure, being mated to the alpha female must be exhausting, especially with Lucinda’s obvious power, but there was no need to vent his anger all over Christophe.

  “Not yet,” Evan replied, a dull red light glowing in his pupils. “I’m sure you will before you leave. I don’t like sorcerers.”

  “Neither do I, fur face. Not a sorcerer. Deal with it.”

  Fiona sighed. “Really? Is everything about proving who possesses the bigger man parts?”

  Lucinda roared with laughter. “Man parts? Oh, that is priceless, human. Now tell me what you need while I’m still amused.”

  “We are trying to find out information about the theft of Vanquish,” Fiona said. “Anything you might know could help us out, and we’d really appreciate it.”

  The alpha stared at Fiona in disbelief. “Anything we might know? You’d appreciate it? You dare ask us of Vanquish when it contains the Siren?”

  Evan growled, deep in his throat, and Christophe got a sudden impression of predators stalking squealing prey. He smiled, a simple baring of his teeth, and Evan subsided. Wolves weren’t the only predators who hunted in the night.

  “Have you heard the rumors of what that gem can do?” Lucinda snarled the words. “Enthrall my kind, perhaps permanently. What kind of a death wish do you have to come in here and tell me you’re looking for it?”

  “That’s one of the reasons we’re after it,” Christophe said. “We in Atlantis don’t want it to fall into vampire hands any more than you do. If you know Lucas, then you know about our mission.”

  “Protect humanity, noble sacrifices, whatever.” Lucinda shrugged. “Nothing to do with me or mine. I have heard nothing of the ones who took it, but if I do, they will regret the day they first conceived the idea. This Scarlet Ninja is already a dead man, though he doesn’t know it yet. If, to compound his transgression, he is working with the vampire Telios, we will make sure his death takes hours. Perhaps days.”

  Christophe very carefully did not so much as glance at Fiona.

  Lucinda planted her hands on the table and leaned forward, all crouching, feral fury. “If you discover anything, you will tell me about it. Immediately. You can consider yourselves emissaries of the wolves from here on out.”

  Fiona shook her head. “With all due respect—”

  “Anyone who uses that phrase is generally going to be quite disrespectful, I’ve found,” Evan said.

  “I don’t intend to be. I simply want to say that we all want the same thing—the Siren off the market. It’s an Atlantean gem and belongs to them. We’re going to find it and restore it to its original place of honor. A strictly ceremonial thing, of course. Since there are no shifters in Atlantis to be enthralled, you have nothing to worry about.” Fiona smiled and nodded as if everything were now solved.

  “Princess, life isn’t like one of your books. You can’t tie everything up neatly with a bow all the time,” Christophe said, casting a resigned look at Lucinda. “Now we’re in trouble?”

  “Now you’re in trouble.”

  The first wave of shifters came at them hard, fast, and low. Christophe barely had time to pull his daggers again before they were on him, but they ignored him and went for Fiona first. There were far too many, and they were far too fast.

  Christophe shot out of his chair so fast it flew through the air and smashed into the wall behind him, but Evan dove for his legs and knocked him flat against the table so hard Christophe’s head bounced off the wood. The two shifters in the front wave of the mob coming after Fiona grabbed her and yanked her away before Christophe could reach for her. He roared out his fury and denial, and the sound took shape into a glowing ball of forbidden fire, the flames as scarlet as Fiona’s costume.

  Flames licked the edge of the table and Christophe took advantage of the distraction to slam his elbow back into Evan’s face. The shifter howled as the force of the blow caught him in the nose and mouth and flung him back and off Christophe.

  Lucinda jumped up, the predatory grin on her face fading into a scowl at her mate’s pain.

  “Release her, or I’ll burn this whole damn place and everyone in it to the ground,” Christophe snarled, standing his ground. The shifters who held Fiona could kill her before he could reach her, which neutralized any potential move.

  “I don’t think so, sorcerer,” Lucinda said, pointing to Fiona. “If you so much as blink, they will rip her throat out. Now make your pretty fire go away.”

  Christophe analyzed every option available to him in the space of a single breath, but the damn alpha spoke the truth. She had the upper hand, for now. He extinguished the fireball.

  “Now you’re in a great deal of trouble,” Lucinda said, and then she started laughing.

  Chapter 30

  Fiona had the craziest urge to give in to the giggles. The entire situation had a distinct evil villain vibe to it, and she half expected Bond, James Bond, to show up any minute and get Lucinda to launch into a monologue about her plans to take over the world. Didn’t look like that was going to happen, though. Instead, Fiona drew a deep breath and analyzed the situation.

  Chance of escape? None.

  Chance of winning a battle, against these odds? None. Or at least none before she’d be dead and bleeding out on the floor. Christophe might be able to fight them or escape, or both.

  Chance of negotiating? Better than average.

  “Lucinda—”

  Somebody smacked the back of her head, hard.

  “Speak to our alpha with respect, human. You’re not fit to say her name.” The words came out in an animalistic growl, but she had no problem understanding either their meaning or their menace.

  “I do apologize, but that is how she introduced herself to me. Is there a form of address you’d prefer I use?” She smiled calmly, as if this were any cocktail conversation in any drawing room in the country.

  “You’ve declined my very reasonable request,” Lucinda said, stalking her way across the room. “I don’t care what you call me, you’re in trouble.”

  Christophe roared out a warning, and Evan, his nose crooked and bleeding, smashed a chair into the back of Christophe’s head. Christophe went down hard but was back up in a few seconds.

  “If you touch her, I will kill you all,” Christophe said, his voice carrying throughout the room. His eyes burned like deep green pools of molten emerald and flashed a warning or a signal to Fiona. She had no idea what he was trying to convey, not that there was much she could do about it anyway. She was surrounded by drunken, angry, excited, and possibly hungry shifters. That last adjective alone accounted for the shiver of terror trailing its cold fingers down her spine.

  “You should watch your mouth, warrior,” Lucinda replied. “She will be dead before you can make your first move.”

  Fiona could tell by the way Christophe clenched his fists that he knew as well as she did that it was the truth.

  “Please let them entertain us, my mistress,” one of the shifters called out to his alpha. “If we are not amused, they can be food.”

  “I can be very entertaining,” Fiona said quickly.

  A few of the shifters laughed, and she smiled at them. Diplomacy never hurt, though she didn’t think they’d go as far as disobeying their alpha. Lucinda was the key.

  “You offer, then?” Lucinda smiled. Her mouth surely hadn’t had so many teeth in it before.

  “No,” Christophe shouted. “She doesn’t understand. Take me.”

  “Too late, Atlantean. Offered and accepted,” the alpha replied, never taking her eyes off Fiona. “Well, little human, which will it be? Fight or fuck?”

  Fiona gasped. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Little too late for that. Now you entertain my people. If they decide you’ve done a good e
nough job of it, we let you go. Do you choose to fight or fuck? Either will suffice. Pain or pleasure?”

  “I don’t—I—who would I have to fight?” Delay. Keep Lucinda talking. Fiona’s heart was about to beat out of her chest, and she was sure the shifters surrounding her could hear it, since they were crowding closer and closer, some snuffling at her like . . . animals.

  Brilliant, Fee. Of course, like animals.

  Evan shouted out a laugh. His nose seemed to be healing already. “Guess you’re not satisfying her, Atlantean, if she’d choose to fight a wolf shifter rather than fuck you for our viewing pleasure.”

  “I’ll only be satisfied when I have a wolf-skin rug in front of my fire,” Christophe said, scorn dripping from his voice. “Why don’t you fight me, if your Pack wants some real entertainment? Or is the little puppy afraid to come out from behind Mommy?”

  Evan launched himself at Christophe again, but Lucinda made a hand gesture and several of the shifters grabbed him and held him back.

  “Evan,” Lucinda said patiently. “He’s trying to provoke you into fighting him so the debt is paid and we can no longer accept his mate’s offer. Try to think with your brain instead of your . . . man parts.”

  She had the effrontery to wink at Fiona, as though they were just gals in on a lovely joke. Fiona suddenly, fiercely, wanted to smash the smile off the woman’s face. Naturally, it would be her last act on the earth, since shifters were far stronger than humans, but perhaps the wave of personal satisfaction would be worth it.

  “I have another idea,” she said instead. “A counteroffer, if you will. I will entertain you in my own way, with a story. The tale of what happened when your own moon goddess came to Scotland and fell in love with a Highlander.”

  Lucinda tilted her head. “And if I accept and we are not entertained by your story?”

  “Then I surrender gracefully and buy drinks for everyone in the pub, which, you must admit, would also be entertaining.” Fiona kept her head raised high but didn’t stare directly into Lucinda’s eyes. She’d read somewhere about displays of dominance in the shifter world, and she didn’t want to appear to be challenging Lucinda’s authority in her own pub. She and Christophe were in enough trouble already.

  Lucinda appeared to be at least considering the idea. One of the younger females surrounding Christophe spoke up.

  “Mother, if you please, I have not heard this tale and would like to collect it for my book. I would ask as a boon to me that you allow the human to tell her story.”

  Mother? Lucinda in no way looked old enough to have this grown woman as a daughter. Fiona knew the shifters lived longer lives than humans, but she hadn’t realized they retained their youthful appearance for so long.

  When Lucinda didn’t immediately dismiss the idea, Fiona allowed herself to hope, but said nothing further. She’d played her hand. It was all Lucinda’s decision now.

  Finally, the alpha nodded. “Because my cub wishes it, I will allow you to tell your story. Be sure, though, that it is the finest tale you have ever told, or you will regret it. You will also buy drinks for everyone in my pub, so they may soothe their dry throats while they listen.”

  Fiona knew when to give in gracefully. She very carefully reached into her pocket for her credit card, since she hadn’t brought nearly enough cash to buy pints for a room full of thirsty shifters. Lucinda nodded, and her daughter walked over and took the card from Fiona. She hadn’t gone three steps toward her mother, however, when she gasped and whirled around.

  “Fiona Campbell? The Fiona Campbell? The Forest Fairies and The Selkies Return Fiona Campbell?”

  Fiona nodded, sighing. She hadn’t really expected to be recognized in a shifter pub, but of course werewolves had children, too. She fought back another wave of giggles at the thought, realizing it was simply a crazy reaction to the relief that she wasn’t going to be eaten.

  At least, not for however long it took to tell her story.

  “Mother, this is Fiona Campbell!”

  Lucinda rolled her eyes. “Yes, I think even a deaf person would have gotten that by now. Who is Fiona Campbell?”

  “Only the most famous children’s book author and illustrator in the United Kingdom!” Lucinda’s daughter was all but jumping up and down, a reaction Fiona usually only received from fans about fifteen years younger.

  “Ginny, calm down,” Lucinda ordered, and Ginny immediately dropped her head submissively. “Now, slow down and explain.”

  “Do you remember that book I showed you? The one with the painting of the forest in Scotland that you said was so vivid it reminded you of your childhood in the country? That’s Fiona Campbell.”

  “Now that we’re all friends, perhaps you can ask your associates to let me pass?” Christophe called out.

  “Not a chance, sorcerer.” Lucinda gestured to Ginny and the young shifter approached her mother and spent several minutes whispering urgently to her. Lucinda finally nodded and Ginny moved a few steps away.

  “Famous author, maybe. It seems you have a fan in my daughter,” Lucinda told Fiona. “But your companion poses too great a threat. However, we have our own magic here. If he will agree to be bound, we will consider allowing you both to leave unharmed. After your story, and if it pleases, of course.”

  Christophe’s face drained of all color, and Fiona realized that nothing could be worse for him than being bound. Not unless they planned to lock him in a box, and they’d only do that over her dead body.

  “No,” Fiona said. “Let him go. You can bind me or whatever you need to do.”

  “No!” Christophe shouted. “Leave her alone. Let her go. I’ll agree to anything you want.”

  Lucinda smiled. “Most do,” she said. “You two are so touching. Ah, here is help.”

  The oldest woman Fiona had ever seen in her life chose that moment to make an entrance from the back room. Fiona supposed she must be a shifter, too, considering the company, but she looked like Mother Earth or the moon goddess herself. In spite of the dire situation, Fiona’s fingers itched for her paints.

  The old woman’s pale, pale eyes widened, and then she laughed. Her laughter held so much power that even Fiona could feel it. All the wolves but the alpha bowed, and even Lucinda inclined her head.

  “No, child, I am no moon goddess, though you flatter me with the comparison,” the woman said, moving toward Christophe. “Now let’s see about the magic in this man. It tastes of sea and salt and ancient days, but not at all of sorcery.”

  Christophe bowed his most elegant court bow. “As I have told your friends, Wise One.”

  The old woman smiled and patted his cheek. “Melisande will do, Atlantean. Simply Melisande.”

  He tilted his head, studying her. “How did you—”

  “I know much beyond the purview of you youngsters,” she chided him. “Do you swear by your sea god to harm none here?”

  Christophe scanned the room, his gaze finally coming to rest on Lucinda. “I will harm none so long as my mate is not harmed, Lady Melisande. I do so swear it by my oath to Poseidon.”

  Fiona tried to mask her shock. His mate?

  “Such pretty manners in this boy,” Melisande said, chuckling. She turned toward Lucinda. “You may let him go now.”

  Lucinda made another gesture, and the shifters surrounding Christophe melted away, as did the ones around Fiona, although one of them took one long, last sniff of her hair before he moved off. Christophe leapt across the space separating them, so fast he was a blur, and pulled her into his arms.

  “Never again,” he whispered into her hair. “If something happened to you—Never again.”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” she murmured, as Lucinda approached.

  “I loved that painting,” Lucinda admitted. “The Scottish forest. That was you? You don’t look—”

  Fiona interrupted her with the simple action of pulling the red wig off her head and shaking out her own blond hair. “It’s easier to go out, sometimes, when peopl
e don’t know who I am. I’m in no way famous like an actor or TV presenter, but I do get recognized, and people—parents, especially—seem to be disturbed by the idea that the woman who writes their children’s bedtime stories might be seen in a pub.” She smiled ruefully. “I rather think they expect me to live in one of the forests from my paintings.”

  Lucinda nodded. “I once did. Perhaps someday I’ll tell you about it.”

  Christophe leaned forward, and Fiona squeezed his hand in warning.

  “I would enjoy hearing it,” she said. “Perhaps in another venue?”

  “I apologize for our lack of hospitality,” Lucinda said, handing Fiona’s credit card back to her. “Drinks on the house, while The Melting Moon’s first guest author tells us her tale,” she shouted, and a rousing cheer shook the walls of the pub.

  Fiona finally, very carefully, allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief.

  * * *

  Christophe, with Melisande ensconced in a chair nearby, watched as a room full of wolf shifters, among the deadliest of all predators, sat entranced and listened to Fiona tell a tale. Although, to be sure, the story was one of the finest he’d ever heard. The wolves’ own moon goddess, known for her incredible beauty and the vanity that was her greatest downfall, had apparently taken a little jaunt to Scotland one day and fallen hard for a Scottish warrior.

  The warrior and the goddess. It named his own story, and he wasn’t sure his was fated to have any more of a happy ending than Fiona’s tale. A mere mortal wasn’t meant to love a goddess, and Fiona shone brighter than any mere moon. She was brilliant and brave beyond anything he had ever seen in a human. She’d faced down Lucinda’s threat with a smile and an offer of her own.

  She was incredible.

  He could never deserve her.

  “Don’t wait too long before claiming that one for your own,” Evan said from behind him. “She is a treasure, is she not?”

  Christophe turned to find the alpha’s mate, his nose healed and his face cleaned of blood, leaning against the bar next to him. Evan raised his mug to Christophe in a wry toast.