Vampire in Atlantis

up through the bubbles. She raised her hands to cup her breasts and ran an exploratory thumb over one nipple, gasping at the electric sensation that pinged through her body from that sensitive place to another, even more sensitive place.

How much more exciting would it be if it were Daniel touching her there? She caught her breath at the thought, feeling deliciously naughty and then, suddenly, starkly ashamed. Men and women had just died, and she herself had killed one of them. Yes, it had been a vampire who’d been attacking Reisen, bent on killing him. Yes, it had been in battle.

But she’d never even struck anyone in anger, and now she’d killed a man. A vampire, like Daniel. How could she dismiss that so easily? The tears began to run down her face as the horrible inventory unfolded in her mind. Quinn’s friend Jack, the man who’d been kind enough to spend part of his day protecting Serai from her own foolishness, was wounded perhaps beyond hope of healing. His humanity might never return. Several more of the rebels—more friends—were also dead or injured.

All of it due to a vampire attack that might even have had something to do with the Emperor and whoever had stolen it. Not to mention the maidens lying helpless in Atlantis, waiting for her to find the Emperor and save them.

And yet—in spite of all of that—here she sat in luxury and peace in her bath, playing at ideas of being a sexual temptress. Shame and exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she dropped her head to her knees and gave in to the sobs that had lain in wait for her since she first stepped foot out of that pod.

So much responsibility on Serai’s inexperienced shoulders. Too much, perhaps. If she failed them, her sisters-in-stasis would die—because of her. She’d never been responsible for anything more important than choosing a new gown for a ball, and now the fate of the maidens, and maybe even that of Atlantis itself, lay in her hands. The Seven Isles couldn’t rise to the surface without all of the jewels from Poseidon’s trident.

It was too much. Far too much. She couldn’t possibly live up to the task. She pulled a towel from the heated bar near the tub and pressed her face into it, the end trailing in the water, so the sound of her sobs wouldn’t reach beyond the bathing room.

When the door crashed open, she knew she’d failed at even that. Moving so fast he was a blur, Daniel crossed to the tub and pulled her up and out of it, cradling her—wet towel, bubbles, and all—on his lap.

“Serai? Are you injured? Should we call for a healer or a doctor?” He stared into her eyes, holding her tightly to his chest, and she felt herself flush so hot her skin must be on fire.

“Daniel! I’m not injured, but I’m . . . I have no . . . I was in the bath. This is shockingly inappropriate. Release me immediately and leave the room.”

He ignored her completely and instead tightened his embrace and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Then why are you crying as if your heart would break, my beautiful one?”

She shook her head back and forth as the pain rushed up again to choke her, her childish concerns about her nudity forgotten. “The attack. The dead rebels. Jack. My sisters. The Emperor. What if I can’t find it, Daniel? My connection to it keeps growing weaker. What if I can never find it and the rest of the maidens die, too?”

“You’ll find it. We’ll find it together. I swear to you that we will succeed. We’ll save those women, and you’ll be safe, and you can return to Atlantis and live a long and wonderful life.” His voice rasped as he said it, as if he were suppressing some deep emotion. He shifted his position sitting on the edge of the tub, still holding her, and the blood rushed to her cheeks again as she realized she felt a growing hardness under her bottom.

“I’m sorry, Serai, but I am a man,” he said ruefully. “Some things are impossible to ignore, and you, naked in my arms, tops the list.”

He stood and carefully released her, and then took her wet towel and handed her a dry one, but his searing gaze swept every inch of her body before she got a chance to wrap herself in the soft white cotton.

“A gentleman would have closed his eyes,” she informed him rather breathlessly.

“I’m not a gentleman,” he said, flashing that wicked smile of his that made her think of dangerous, seductive things. “I’m going to take advantage of every chance I get to see your gorgeous body, especially naked, you can be sure of that.”

She blushed again but then frowned. “It’s not right. To think of . . . pleasure . . . when such bad things have happened.”

He grabbed another towel and started to dry her hair for her. “It’s the most normal thing in the world, sweetheart. To affirm life in the face of death. To reach out for a connection to another—it’s entirely natural.”

He tossed the towel on the floor and put his arms around her, pulling her closer. “Do you know what else is natural? This is natural.”

He touched his lips to hers, and she stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped existing as a rational person as the sensation thrilled through her. He was kissing her.

He wanted her.

She didn’t know why, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care.

She just kissed him back. She threw her arms around his neck and clung, just in case he changed his mind. She wouldn’t let go so easily. She kissed him with every bit of the longing she’d built up after so many years of missing him. Wanting him. Dreaming of him.

All of those years of wishing, hoping—she put all that into her kiss, too. All of her enthusiasm, her passion; it had to make up for lack of experience, didn’t it?

She hoped. She would—what had he said? Affirm life? Yes. She would affirm life with him. Enthusiastically.

He groaned a little, deep in his throat, and she blushed. Maybe all that enthusiasm was a little too much. She didn’t actually know what she was doing, after all. Maybe she was—

“Stop thinking so hard,” he said, his lips quirking up at the edges. “Kissing is more about feeling.”

“How did you—”

“I could tell. Am I going too fast?”

“No! I mean, no, I just—you have probably kissed so many women, and I don’t, well, not that I should have, and what were you doing kissing all those women, anyway?” By the time she got to the end of that convoluted sentence, she was indignant and more than a little jealous.

His eyes flashed with heat and maybe even a little amusement. “There weren’t all that many, mi amara. But if you want the absolute truth, there has never, ever been anyone who could compare to you.”

She clutched the towel closer to her chest and stared up into his eyes. Nothing but absolute sincerity and that exciting glimpse of barely restrained hunger shone back at her.

“My heart has waited for you all of my life. I feel like I’m learning what a kiss is for the very first time, and I want to learn it with you,” he said, and she fell.

Fell out of doubt, out of insecurity, out of shyness.

Fell into love.

And knew, without a doubt, that she couldn’t let him know. She’d scare him away, with his stupid notions of honor. But she could find a way to show him; that, at least she could do.

Would do. Tonight.

He waited, letting her decide, and she framed his face with her hands and pulled his head back down to hers.

“Then maybe we should try it again,” she whispered, shyness almost—almost—completely overcome.

He flashed that wicked grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He kissed her, and time stood still, the stars exploded, and a thousand other lines from a thousand other love songs and poems evolved from data fed to her by the Emperor . . . into truth.

He kissed her, and somehow she was in his arms while he carried her into the bedroom. His eyes glowed like dark stars in the dim room, which was only lit by the light from the bathing room.

“I need you,” he said, and his voice was tight with strain as if he somehow hurt because of needing her. She felt a thrill of purely feminine triumph as she tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him in response. She didn’t need words, she didn’t even have the words for what she was feeling—only random thoughts and emotions and feelings whirling around and through her like bolts of electricity or a lightning strike composed of sheer sensation.