Christmas in Atlantis_A Poseidon's Warriors paranormal romance Read online

  "Touché. Is that bacon?"

  "It smells like bacon, but how would I know? Maybe it's whatever passes for bacon from some weird Atlantean pig."

  April laughed, and Lyric had the feeling she'd surprised it out of the woman. The manners that aunt Jean had pounded into her over the years raised their ugly head, though, and Lyric sighed.

  "Would you like some of my breakfast?"

  "I know you just said that so I'd say no, but I’m going to say yes. We should have a little chat," April said. "I'll pull up some chairs."

  By the time they finished eating a truly magnificent breakfast, Lyric was no closer to understanding why April had come to visit her. Finally, she put her fork down and decided just to get to the point.

  "So why are you here? It's not just to share a random breakfast with a random visitor. So what is it?"

  April made a little snorting noise. "I just wanted to get a look at you, all right? I wanted to see what Dare was bringing home these days. When he was with me, I thought he had a type. We sailed together, we smuggled together, we slept together. Life was an adventure every day of the week. But you. You I don't get."

  Lyric could feel the steam building up in her head, ready to pour out her ears, but she stayed outwardly nonchalant. "If it was all that wonderful, why aren't you sailing with him now?"

  "Oh we ran our course a few years back. Gods, I guess five years back now. But I'm in the mood for a little action. I thought I'd look him up."

  Lyric poured herself another cup of coffee in silence, and then she smiled what Meredith called her sharkiest smile. "You can try."

  It was a challenge, and they both knew it. She might not be a pirate, but she was sure as hell able to cross swords with this woman.

  April laughed. "Unfortunately, I think I'm going to like you in spite of myself. Maybe I do see what Dare sees in you."

  "I'm so relieved," Lyric drawled.

  April shoved back her chair, probably standing up.

  "Well, when is he getting back? What did Poseidon say?"

  The way April asked the question, Lyric knew that she expected her to have the answer. She realized, with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, that if she’d really meant anything to Dare, he would've told her about something so important is going in front of the – and she couldn't even believe she was going to think this – sea god.

  Boy, times had changed.

  She put her cup down and stood up, too. "I'm sure he'll be back when he's done. Shall I tell him you stopped by?"

  "No need. I don't have time to wait around until he gets finished with whatever he's doing with you, no offense."

  Lyric narrowed her eyes. "I’ve found that usually when people say 'no offense' they are saying something that is in fact designed to cause offense."

  There was a silence, and then April made that small snorting noise again. "That was me shrugging. I just realized you couldn't see it, so I'm narrating. Sure, tell Dare I stopped by. Tell him it's his loss, and I'm going to join Denal in this new elite fighting team he’s starting. So maybe I'll see him around, and maybe I won't."

  "Elite fighting team?"

  She could hear April heading for the door but the footsteps stopped at her question. "Yeah. I'm going to be the first-ever of Poseidon's warriors to be female in the more than 11,000 years since Poseidon first swore them into service."

  Pride and something else – trepidation, perhaps? -- rang in April's voice. In spite of herself, Lyric kind of wanted to wish her well. After all, that was one hell of a glass ceiling. 11,000 freaking years.

  "Good luck," she said impulsively.

  "You really mean that don't you?"

  "Life is too short to say things you don't mean, don't you agree"

  "Thanks. I hope I'm not going to need luck, but thank you anyway. You’re more than I expected. I’d wish you luck, too, with Dare, but I'm not sure I’d really mean it. So instead, I'll just say see you around. And, hey. Tell Dare that I'm rooting for him. I know he feels like he's not whole on his ship without Seranth, because she's part of him, the ship, and even part of the sea itself. But he’d be bored to death on land. He can't give up the sea – he wouldn't. Not for anything--or anyone."

  Lyric stood there, clenching her shaking hands into fists, for a long time after the sound of April’s footsteps had faded.

  Well. There was her answer. Even if Dare could love her, she’d bore him to death. So this little interlude in Atlantis meant nothing. Nothing would change between them. She’d continue to only see him a few times a year, until he ended up with someone like April.

  What else was there for them? It's not like Lyric could become a pirate, even if she wanted to. Enough, already. She had work to do.

  She walked over to her canvas and reached for the black paint.

  10

  The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two—and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

  Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

  -- The Gift of the Magi, O. Henry (1917)

  Dare stood on the deck of the Luna, her bow pointed into the wind. He'd been sailing for hours, with a skeleton crew, calling out to Poseidon.

  The thing about gods, however, was that they showed up when they felt like it. They answered your call if they felt like it, and sometimes not at all. Apparently, this was one of the times that Poseidon didn't feel like answering.

  He'd sailed through the sunrise, even though he wanted with every fiber of his being to head back to port, head back to the palace, and climb into bed with Lyric. Or, if she were still painting, to sit quietly across the room. Not disturbing her, just watching her. Not intruding, just being part of her world.

  But she was probably asleep, exhausted from the hurricane of painting she’d been so compelled to do. And he still had a goal to accomplish out here.

  "Poseidon," he shouted. "Get your capricious sea god ass over here and talk to me about Seranth right now."

  Behind him Smitty gasped. “Captain! You’re gonna get us killed. Don’t you know better than to challenge the gods?”

  Smitty wasn’t even Atlantean but, like all other sailors, he had a healthy respect for gods, superstitions, and prevailing winds.

  "No, he’ll just smite me, if he’s going to do any smiting. He’s pretty fair, as gods go.”

  I AM GLAD TO HEAR YOU ESTEEM ME SO GREATLY. YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOUR GOOD OPINION MEANS TO ME.

  Poseidon's thundering voice made the mockery sound like cannon fire.

  Dare realized he was in a lot of trouble.

  “I need Seranth,” he shouted up at the giant face floating in the sky above him. “You gave me Luna; now give me the sea spirit. You know I’m only half as fast and half as good without her, and what I do, I do for you and for the benefit of Atlantis."

  WHAT YOU DO, YOU DO FOR YOURSELF. ANY EXTRA BENEFIT IS PROBABLY ACCIDENTAL AND CERTAINLY INCIDENTAL.

  Behind Dare, Smitty dropped to the deck and covered his head with his hands. “Don’t hurt me.”

  Dare gritted his teeth. “Poseidon. I ask this boon. Return Luna to me and Seranth to Luna. At least grant me that. You know she belongs with this ship—she’s part of it. This must be hurting her even more than it hurts me, and I know that’s not what you intended.”

  DO NOT PRESUME TO TELL ME WHAT I INTEND, PIRATE. YOU WILL ONLY ANGER ME, AND YOU WILL ALWAYS BE WRONG.

  TAKE THE SHIP; YOU PAID FOR IT IN SWEAT, BLOOD, AND GOLD. I WILL NOT GIVE YOU THE SEA SPIRIT, HOWEVER. YOU DO NOT DESERVE HER.

  Dare roared out his frustration and then smashed his fists down on the railing. �
��Without her, the ship alone is only half of my heart,” he shouted.

  PERHAPS YOU LOOK FOR YOUR HEART IN THE WRONG PLACE.

  And then Poseidon vanished.

  Dare turned the ship around. When he reached Atlantis, he headed straight for the tavern.

  It was mid-afternoon by the time the tavern owner’d had enough and thrown him out. Dare knew it had been a close call about half a bottle of whiskey earlier, when he’d broken that chair over somebody’s head, but it was a hangout for low-lifes, after all, and he fit the bill.

  He’d spent enough of his gold there over the years that it took more than a broken chair—or a broken head—to get him kicked out.

  “And it’s a broken heart that sent me here,” he said, full of expensive whiskey and expansive melodrama. Maybe a little self pity thrown in for good measure.

  Without Seranth, he and Luna were just another pirate and ship, no longer the best on the high sea.

  Without Lyric, what does it matter?

  The thought knocked him sideways, and he stumbled and almost fell. Well, maybe it was the whiskey knocking him sideways, but the thought of life without Lyric…

  He needed to talk to her. To explain – he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to explain. That he needed her? That he didn't feel like he deserved her?

  That he loved her?

  He froze right in the middle of the path. He loved her?

  Yes. By the gods, he did love her, and he knew she felt something for him. He tried to gather his alcohol-soaked wits to figure everything out logically, but it wasn’t working, because:

  1. She was an artist, and she lived in Florida, where she had her home, her studio, and her business. All her friends were there.

  And

  2. He lived in Atlantis, and was sworn to Poseidon, the rat bastard. He couldn't leave without breaking that oath, and the sea god was not known for kindness to oath breakers. He’d be dead before he could get the words out.

  He could visit her?

  He shook his head. No, after having her in his arms, he knew that mere visits would never be enough.

  Enough already with the agonizing. Was he a man or was he a sniveling idiot? He needed to see her. He needed to talk to her.

  But first, he needed some coffee.

  By the time Dare stopped at a different pub to pound down three cups of coffee and then made it to the palace, it was dusk. He heard singing coming from the throne room, and he headed in that direction. Maybe Lyric would've come down for the songs. He felt a wave of shame wash over him that he’d left her alone all night and day while he wallowed in self pity. Poseidon had just cause to refuse him Seranth, he finally admitted to himself. He’d taken his ship into dangerous waters and risked them all for nothing but profit, adventure, and greed.

  If he couldn't be a better person and a better captain, he didn't deserve any of them. Not Seranth, not Luna and her crew, and certainly not Lyric.

  Lyric, who was the light to his darkness. The beacon by which he’s steered his ship for the past several years, even though he hadn’t known it at the time. He loved her.

  He loved her.

  He turned the corner into the throne room, and then stopped and stared at the sight before him. The king and queen were sitting on cushions in the middle of the floor, surrounded by children of all ages. The parents – at least he assumed that those were the parents – were arranged around the edges of the room. The queen seemed to be telling the children a story about a town called Bethlehem.

  Wait. He knew this story. Poseidon’s warriors at the time had brought back the amazing tale of the birth of the Christ child.

  "What's frankincense and myrrh, your Majesty?" It was one of the smaller children had asked the question, but Dare could see that many of the others had the same look of incomprehension on their faces, and he enjoyed listening to Queen Riley explain the story of the three kings and their gifts.

  He couldn’t see a clear path to get through to the staircase to Lyric’s room, so he leaned back against a wall, drawn into the story. It was a story of hope and love, and ultimately a story of healing and forgiveness.

  His throat tightened and he swallowed, hard.

  Love, hope, and forgiveness. As if drawn by a homing beacon, his gaze swept the room for a glimpse of the woman with whom he wanted to share all of this. Share his life.

  There she was, standing on the other side of the room, her eyes closed and a faint smile on her face as she listened to Riley’s story of the King of Kings. As soon as the story ended, in joy and grace, Dare made his way around the perimeter of the group with single-minded intent. He had to reach her. Nothing else mattered. He had to tell her – he had to explain

  He needed to make her love him back – whether he deserved her yet or not, he would vow to spend a lifetime trying.

  11

  Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

  "Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again—you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice—what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

  "You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

  "Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

  -- The Gift of the Magi, O. Henry (1917)

  Lyric smiled and chatted with the people near her, after Riley’s story was done. When the singing began, she joined in, figuring out the lyrics as they went along. She loved to sing and wasn't going to let a little thing like not knowing the words to Atlantean children’s songs stop her.

  She closed her eyes and sang, letting the joy and companionship in the room soothe her soul and infuse her with the spirit of the season. In the middle of a song that seemed to be about fish and grapefruit, as far as she could grasp the meaning, she felt something Meredith would have called a disturbance in the force. It was as if the air pressure in the room changed; as if a powerful gale force wind were headed straight toward her.

  Dare.

  She could feel him. It didn't make sense, had never made sense, but there it was. She could feel him coming for her, and her body started trembling almost in spite of herself.

  He stopped in front of her and pulled her arms. She could feel that he was trembling, too.

  "I'm here. I'm back. I'm so sorry I left you alone for so long, but I never will again, I swear it."

  She almost fell over. “You—what? Dare, are you--"

  His voice had had a strange lilt to it, so she leaned forward and sniffed. Sure enough, his ‘important business’ seemed to have taken him past at least one Atlantean whiskey distillery. She leaned back, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed, but amusement won out.

  "Really? If you wanted to go drinking, I would've been happy to go with you."

  "I would've asked you, but you threw me out so you could work," he said humbly.

  She had to laugh. Dare and ‘humble’ didn’t belong in the same sentence. "I know. You're right. I have the manners of a wild boar when the Muse takes me like that. I'm sorry, too, but you’re back now. Should we go for a walk? It's a beautiful night."

  He grasped her wrist and started walking, pulling her none too gently along with him.

  "Beautiful night, yes. No to walks. I have things to say to you, and I’d like to say them in private."

  She stepped up her pace to keep up with him and twisted her wrist a little bit until she was holding his hand. "That works out well then, because I have things to say to you too."

  The sound of the crowd had been fading steadily as they walked along, and suddenly Dare swung her around until her back was against one of the cool marble walls of the palace.

  "I've changed my mind. I can't wait until we g
et up to your room. I need to put my hands on you.” With that, he took her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. His hands stroked down her back until he found her butt. He squeezed it and then lifted her up, startling her into wrapping her legs around his waist.

  "Dare. What if somebody walks down this hallway?"

  He tore his mouth away from hers, and he was breathing hard. "I don't care," he growled. "Let them get their own damn hallway."

  He flexed his hips so the hardness of his body was exactly in the spot where she wanted it, and she moaned and went boneless, clutching at his shoulders for all she was worth.

  "Dare – –"

  He bit her neck.

  She cried out.

  "Please. Please let's go to my room. I would like to have this conversation with you, but I'd like to have it naked," she told him.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” He swung her up into his arms. "This will be faster."

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and decided to bite his earlobe this time.

  "You keep talking about my round butt, so I find it hard to believe you want to carry me up three double flights of stairs again."

  "Ha. You weigh nothing. Remember, superior Atlantean strength."

  By then, he was running up the stairs. Luckily they didn't pass anyone, or at least not that she heard, because it probably would've been entirely obvious what they were rushing off to do.

  At least, what she hoped they were rushing off to do.

  By the time they made it to her room, she was already ripping the buttons off his shirt.

  He lowered her to her feet and took her hand her face in his hands. "I need to tell you something."

  "I need to tell you something too," she said.

  "In this, I won't be a gentlemen. I need to go first.” He took her hands and knelt on the floor. "I must tell you that I have finally realized why I’ve been living with a hole in my heart for so long—because you weren’t with me. Lyric, I love you more than life itself. Without you, I have nothing, want nothing, and feel nothing. My soul is yours, my heart is yours, my life is yours. I will give you anything and everything you could ever desire, if only you'll be mine."