Wild Hearts in Atlantis Page 5
“Ah, it’s Kat,” she said. Her voice dripped menace even as her hair dripped chlorinated water. “I heard about Nicky. He was a friend of yours, wasn’t he?”
Beside him, Kat had noticeably flinched at the sight of the woman, but answered in a quiet tone. “Yes, Fallon. He was.”
So this was Fallon. Bastien found himself wanting to unsheathe his daggers again. Anubisa, the evil goddess of the vampires, had taught him that females could be far more deadly than males—of any species.
Kat abruptly turned to Ethan and positioned her back to the pool. Bastien wondered if it were deliberate. He kept an eye on the female in the water and noticed that Fallon’s lips curled back from a mouthful of sharp-looking teeth as she silently hissed at Kat.
Deadly, indeed.
“Ethan, Nicky told us that Terminus did this to him. Before he died—” Kat’s voice broke.
Bastien touched her arm, then gently pulled her back against him. “He did say that, but he was wrong. We destroyed Terminus several weeks ago. He is permanently dead this time.”
Ethan’s attention snapped to Bastien. “You destroyed one of the most powerful vampires in the United States? You said ‘we.’ Who is ‘we’?”
“Prince Conlan of Atlantis and those of us who form his elite guard. Terminus and several of his minions attacked us. Trust me, Terminus is no more. And not one of the most powerful, but two, are now permanently dead. We also watched Anubisa slay Barrabas, her servant, and then our prince and his betrothed destroyed Anubisa.”
A splashing noise from the pool alerted Bastien. He jerked his head around to gauge the threat from Fallon and was surprised by the sight of her very naked, very female form climbing out of the pool. Part of him enjoyed the show. Another, much larger, part of him wondered why he didn’t enjoy it more than he did.
The feel of the woman almost imperceptibly trembling in his arms answered his question. Something about Kat made him think of dangerous words. Words like protect. Comfort. Cherish.
Fallon stalked across the floor, arrogantly flaunting her nudity. Clearly putting on a show for Kat. When she reached Ethan, she draped herself around him.
“He claims to have destroyed Terminus, but what do we know of him? Terminus was more powerful even than Organos,” she sneered. “We would be foolish to believe this so-called Atlantis man.”
Ethan pushed her away, and Fallon snarled at him. Bastien watched the interchange and wondered how much of it was a display presented solely for his benefit. Or, he amended silently, for Kat’s benefit. The sorrow that had radiated from Kat darkened and soured into an almost-helpless rage, but even as he felt her emotions slicing through him, they changed. Dampened back to calm. Her gift was at work again.
“I am a Warrior of Poseidon. I am here to offer alliance to the East Coast shape-shifters, beginning with your panthers, on the advice of one who knows you,” Bastien said. “I offer my help in the investigation of your dead colleague. We have much experience in these matters.”
“Experience in what matters? Killing shape-shifters?” Fallon spat the words at him. “We’ve heard of you. Learned that the Atlanteans of legend have been walking the earth for millennia, killing our kind on behalf of the pathetic single-natured humans. We don’t need or want help from the likes of you.”
Before Bastien could respond, Ethan roared. It was the full, throaty roar of a male panther in his prime, and the force of it sent Fallon cringing to her knees before him. Kat bowed her head, as well, and Bastien hated the submissive gesture.
Hated the idea that Kat would submit to Ethan for even a single second—in any possible way. He stepped around her to face Ethan. To the nine hells with politics. He was up for a little one-on-one ass kicking.
“One known as Jack claims to have fought beside your prince against Barrabas. Do you know of this?” Ethan directed the question to Bastien.
“Yes. I was there.”
“Did Jack shift to his panther form when you battled the bloodsuckers?” Ethan glanced to his right, and Bastien was left with the sure knowledge that an army of shape-shifters stood in the shadows ready to kill him if he answered incorrectly.
Kat started to speak, but Bastien cut her off, recognizing the trick question. “No, he did not. But he shifted into a tiger, damn near ten feet long.”
Ethan’s shoulders relaxed, and the tension in the room noticeably decreased. “Yes. The tiger spoke well of you. Said ‘the tall one is a fucking fighting machine,”’ Ethan admitted. “Told me you were a good one to have around if the world needed saving.”
Bastien grinned. “I feel the same way about him. I’m a lot better at battles than I am at politics, but my prince assigned me this mission. Therefore, I will successfully complete it.”
Ethan stared at him, considering, for a long beat. Then he threw back his head and laughed, though the laughter was acid-like in its bitterness. “I think I’m going to like you, Atlantean. Now let’s head to my conference room to talk.”
As the shape-shifter headed down the hall, Bastien noticed that he never looked back at the naked woman still huddling on the floor. Kat very carefully gave Fallon a wide berth as she walked around her and followed Ethan. However, Bastien’s ingrained standards of courtesy did not include leaving a naked woman to shiver on the floor. He held out a hand to help her up, his face impassive in an attempt to preserve what shreds of her dignity she had left.
She hissed at him and flung herself back and away from his hand. “Get away from me, you murderous bastard. We know what you are. You can’t undo thousands of years of murdering my kind by making—or pretending to make—one or two deceitful alliances.”
She stood up and glared at him, hatred and fury radiating from every line of her body. “Tell that freak bitch to stay away from Ethan, too. He’s mine. No matter how much he thinks he wants her, he must mate with me for the purity of the species. What good is a half-breed to the alpha of our pride?” She spat on the floor and then turned on her heel and sprinted away from him and through the door that led back to the hallway.
Bastien’s entire body clenched at the implications of her words. Ethan, the pride’s alpha, wanted Kat. The dying shifter had said the same. Did Bastien, as the Atlantean liaison, have any right to interfere with that?
Every cell in his body rebelled at the thought. Not Kat. Kat belonged to herself. She wasn’t a pawn in some ancient hierarchy of shape-shifter politics.
Something primal stirred deep in the blackness of his soul. Fuck politics. There is no way he will ever put his hands on her. I’ll kill him first.
“Bastien?” Kat stood in the doorway. “Are you—oh, my God. What are you doing?”
He looked at where she was pointing. At the water steaming and hissing as it lapped at the edges of the swimming pool. Just the mere thought of another man’s hands on Kat’s body had done that. He’d channeled sheer, potent rage through his command over the element of water.
Ethan’s voice, calling from somewhere out of sight down the hall, cut through Bastien’s dazed thoughts. “Kat? I need you.”
And, even as Bastien forced his hands to unclench, the water in the pool began to boil.
The conference room was as spare as the entry and pool room had been ornate. A man worked here, it was evident. A leader. The wooden tabletops were covered with documents and maps.
“Plotting strategy?” Bastien stepped closer to the table holding the largest maps, and Ethan smoothly placed himself between Bastien and his goal.
“Not strategy so much as options,” Ethan said smoothly, the amusement in his eyes defying anyone to challenge him.
For the present, there would not be a challenge. Atlantis needed Ethan and his shifters. One step at a time, then.
“What options if you join with vampires, your oldest enemies, against humanity?” Bastien demanded. “Even as some of you are part human.”
Kat made a sound; of protest, maybe. Denial. But no shape-shifter was part vampire, that much was irrefutable.
Kat gasped. “No! Nelson’s shop?”
Ethan inclined his head, jaw clenching.
She shook her head, as if willing the vicious image from her mind. “No, that’s not—then we have a black coven here?” She snapped her head up, pinned Ethan with her gaze. “The fire? That was you?”
“I burned it. If Nelson had been there, I would have burned him with it.” He stood proud, uncompromising.
Bastien almost unwillingly admired him for it. “Had the same happened to one of my brother warriors, I would have felt much the same. Your revenge is understandable. Forming an alliance with the bloodsuckers out of vengeance or spite is not.”
Ethan rose in a swift, fluid motion, the muscles in his body acting in concert to display his predatory nature. “But we should ally with you instead? The death squad of vigilantes in black who have murdered our kind for centuries? For millennia?”
Bastien never even flinched. “Are we really, panther? Have we ever acted against you or yours? Against Kat’s father or his father before him? The Warriors of Poseidon only intervene when mankind is threatened. It is our mission, our duty, and our sacred oath. Those shape-shifter prides like your own who have never threatened humans have never known our vengeance.”
Kat spoke up. “He’s right, Ethan. Our only knowledge of Atlantis is shrouded in the myths and stories of our people. We’ve heard of the warrior vigilantes, but they’ve never come against us.”
Ethan bared his teeth in a silent snarl, a low, grumbling noise issuing from his throat, and Kat backed up until she stood beside Bastien again. He pulled her against him and felt the slight trembling run through her body. Vowed to make someone pay for making her feel anything but happiness. Maybe even the someone standing in front of him.
“No, we have never threatened humans, but they have nearly hunted us to extinction,” Ethan growled. “Not only our pure animal brethren, but our own pride. Now they work with the black covens to trap us in death for sport. Why would I not form an alliance with Organos?”
Bastien played his trump card, judging the time right to share the information Alaric had told only to him before he, Justice, and Denal had left Atlantis. “Because Organos plays you for a fool. He is the one working with the black sorcerers.”
Kat gasped again, this time moving away from Bastien. Ethan merely narrowed his eyes. “What proof do you have of this? Why would I believe you?”
“I have the word straight from Poseidon’s high priest. He does not lie.”
“So you say,” Ethan said, shrugging. “But I have no knowledge of your priest. Where is your evidence?”
Bastien’s hands grasped the handles of his daggers at the implied slight to his honor, then he slowly removed them. “Liaison,” he reminded himself, shaking his head. “I’m tempted to challenge you to battle for that remark, shifter, but I must remember my sworn duty. So I will provide you this evidence you require. Will you grant me the courtesy of waiting before you proceed with an alliance with Organos and his blood pride?”
Ethan slowly nodded. “Forty-eight hours. I will give you that much time to prove you’re right about this. And if you are—” He smiled so fiercely that Bastien could well understand how the man was alpha of such a fierce coalition of shape-shifters. “If you’re right, and the vampires are killing my people, then we’ll end them.”
Bastien’s smile matched the ferocity of Ethan’s. “As your liaison, I can officially assure you that I will be right there beside you when that time comes. Even us political types need to battle a few vampires now and then.”
Ethan’s ringing laughter followed them down the hall as they made their way out of his house. Kat looked up at Bastien, wonder and consideration in her eyes. “I’d almost say he likes you. And he doesn’t like any outsiders. Ever.”
“He is a fierce warrior who seeks to protect his people. I respect him, as well,” he replied, never breaking his stride.
But, as they walked out into the fading sunshine that mocked the darkness of his mission, he realized the truth behind his words. Although he respected Ethan, he would not hesitate to bring him down unless Ethan called off the alliance with the vampires.
Or if he attempts any claim on Kat, a voice in his mind demanded.
That remains to be seen. Okay, my Lord Poseidon, now would be a really great time to take pity on your warrior and share your plans with me.
Unfortunately, as was so often the case with gods, the only response was a faint, mocking laughter that echoed in his mind.
Eight
Kat put the grocery bag on her kitchen table and stared almost blindly at it, as if somewhere in the grain of the brown paper lay the secret to resolving the crises that had smashed into her carefully structured life.
One of the few friends I had left in the world dead—murdered? Check.
Ethan admitting he formed an alliance with the vampires? Check.
Fallon hating my guts and probably going to try to kill me after I saw him humiliate her? Check.
Alone in my house with bags full of food I don’t know how to cook and a huge Atlantean male who seems to want something from me? Something I’m not prepared to give?
Check. And check. And check.
“Damn.”
“You don’t like steak?” His voice was mild, but the sound of it still startled her. Something in the tone of it—rough, but gentle—sent chills down her spine. Not chills of fear, but just the opposite. Attraction. Desire.
Wanting.
She felt that peculiar sensation again, as if the animal side of her nature were finally waking up from a hibernation that had lasted all of Kat’s life. If it hadn’t been so impossible, she might even have believed that she was on the verge of shifting.
“Kat?” Bastien’s voice cut into her thoughts again, and this time he sounded concerned. She needed to pay attention. To make an attempt to form coherent sentences.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Nicky…I think I need to take a shower and just rest.” The thought of a shower was so tempting she nearly cried. But she had a guest. He must want to clean up, too. “You should go take the first shower. I’m sure you want to rinse the day off, too.”
She turned and tried to smile, but the idea of Bastien naked and wet in the shower spiked her imagination to a dangerous heat. She had to fight herself to keep from jumping on him.
He flashed that incredible smile at her, and for an instant it was there again. That gleam of fire in his eyes. But then it was gone, and his expression was back to his Mr. Liaison cool calm again. “No, but thank you for the kindness,” he said, bowing slightly. All courtesy and gallantry, when what she wanted from him was heat and fire. Passion that could make her forget the sight of Nicky’s eyes glazing over to lifelessness.
She shook her head to rid it of the image. “I’ll just go first, then. We can figure out dinner in a while.”
But, having said that, she couldn’t force herself to move. A strand of his hair had fallen across his cheek as he bent his head and unpacked the groceries, and she stared at the glossy blackness of it, wanting nothing more than to raise her hand and smooth it back from his face. To step into his arms and, for once in her be strong, be brave, be self-reliant, be independent life—just for one damn time—let someone else be strong.
To let him be strong. Just for a moment.
He looked up and caught her staring at him. Must have read something in her eyes. Took a step toward her. “Kat, there’s something I need to—”
“No! I mean, no, there’s nothing,” she heard herself babbling but was powerless to stop. “Well, you should just, I’ll go. Now. I’ll—”
He blinked, probably wondering who the crazy
woman was and what she’d done with Kat, and the sheer humiliation of it all snapped her weird paralysis, and she ran. Ran again, by way of stumbling down the hall to the bathroom. Ran away from the first man who’d ever made her feel safe.
Bastien pushed open the door and headed outside. He knew he wasn’t imagining it. There had been a moment. A capital M Moment, right there in the kitchen. Whatever it was that had taken over his mind and senses, Kat had felt it, too. At least for a single moment. And then she’d run away from him. Again.
“It’s so terrific, this effect I have on women,” he muttered. Then he forced himself to reach for the calm center of his serenity—the center that seemed to explode into fractured shards whenever he was around Kat. Drew in a lungful of the humid evening air and stripped off his shirt and pants. He had need of a shower. Maybe an hour or two under icy water would help the current state of his painfully aroused body.
He was Atlantean. He had no need for pipes and plumbing to find the water to cleanse his body. Legs spread apart, he lifted his face to the evening sky. Raised his arms, palms up, and called to the sea. Called to the water all around him. Called to the elements to purify the water and bring it to him.
He laughed, delighted still, after hundreds of years, as the water rushed to do his bidding. He’d learned a few tricks over the centuries, and he manipulated the currents of water as they danced and swirled in the air around him. Ribbons of water sparkled and shimmered as they curved around and over him to wash the sweat and dirt of the day from his body.
The coolness of the water soothed his overheated skin, calmed the nerve endings jumping and jangling under his skin, and caressed the fiercely hardened erection that jutted up against his body. Everything about Kat—her luscious curves, her scent of sunshine and forest, and her silky cinnamon and sunshine hair—had him walking around in a state of permanent arousal. But the look in her eyes in the kitchen had made him want to lift her onto the table right there and then. Rip the clothes from her body and drive into her. Claim her heat and her wetness for his rightful place, and then spend the next ten or fifty years holding her.