Vampire in Atlantis

not brought her to visit yet. Why? What happened to Jack?”

Daniel quickly told them what had happened, and Conlan and Ven’s faces grew darker with every word.

“We have to find them,” Conlan said. “Alaric may be essential to saving the maidens. Horace knows the stasis pods, but only Alaric has the caliber of magic to handle a backlash from the explosion.”

“We have to help them,” Ven countered, gesturing at Daniel and Serai.

“We will be fine on our own, until you find Alaric and return,” Serai said, increasingly anxious to get moving. “Go, find your priest, but be warned he may not willingly leave his consort.”

“Jack?” Ven said, looking stunned.

“Quinn is with them,” Daniel told him. “Alaric swore a vow never to leave her, and Jack’s humanity may be lost—it’s complicated. Go. Figure it out and send help when you can. We have to leave now.”

“I can stay,” Ven offered, but Serai shook her head.

“If you don’t know where he is, both of you will need to look for him. Do whatever it takes to find him so he can protect my sisters, in case the witch wielding the Emperor doesn’t relinquish it willingly.”

“Your sisters?” Conlan’s head rocked back. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Serai—”

She made a dismissive motion with her hands. “Later. I’ll explain it all later. Go, now.”

Daniel followed her as she started running, as if pulled by a force too powerful to resist, down the bank of the stream and farther toward the northwest.

Conlan raced across the distance separating them and caught Daniel’s arm, yanking him to a stop. “This conversation is not over. You cannot hope to have a future with a princess of Atlantis, no matter how great an ally you have been to our people. You don’t even have a soul to meld with hers. She deserves better, Daniel.”

Daniel twisted his arm in a blindingly fast movement and pinned Conlan’s hand behind the prince’s back. “Don’t ever touch me again, Atlantean. Not if you wish to keep this hand and not end up like your friend Reisen.”

He shoved Conlan away and started after Serai again. “And don’t worry,” he said over his shoulder to the angry prince. “I agree with you. Serai definitely deserves better than me. Right now, though, I’m what she’s got, and I would die before I allowed her to be harmed.”

* * *

Lord Justice, securely hidden behind a stand of trees, slowly released his grip on the hilt of his ever-present sword. Twenty or so paces away, Conlan and Ven were entering the portal, and Daniel and Serai had disappeared into the distance. Conlan had been right; the vampire didn’t want them around.

Too bad. Justice would follow them until they found the Emperor, retrieve the gem and the princess, and return to Atlantis with both before Keely had time to miss him.

Whether Daniel liked it or not.

He shot into the air, taking mist form, and followed the unlikely pair farther into the canyons, concentrating on the breathing exercises Keely had taught him that helped him control his Nereid side’s unpredictable furies. That a vampire dared to violate a princess of Atlantis was bad enough, but that he’d dare to do so to a maiden only hours out of stasis and clearly so vulnerable was enough to enrage both of the dual natures who maintained a wary peace in Justice’s soul.

We will kill him slowly, the Nereid half of him announced. A mad glee underscored the words.

We do not kill our allies, Justice corrected himself.

We will at least hurt him. A lot.

Justice put on a burst of speed, so he could catch up with Daniel and Serai. Yes, he agreed. We will hurt him. A lot.

Chapter 22

Daniel caught up with Serai and waited until they’d hiked another twenty minutes or so—long enough for the metaphorical steam to quit coming out of her ears—before he spoke.

“Maybe poking your ex-fiancé with the fact we’d just had sex wasn’t the best way to begin the conversation,” he said.

“Actually, that was how I ended the conversation,” she pointed out, but she ducked her head and hid her face behind her hair for a few paces. His fierce princess was probably blushing again. The thought made him smile.

“He wasn’t my fiancé, either, if the term carries some consideration of mutual agreement. More like I’m the woman he ordered off the menu. Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in a bad position with your friend Ven or with the future king of Atlantis, especially since you are apparently a politician yourself.”

“You just said ‘politician’ in the same tone most people would use for ‘cockroach,’ so I’m guessing you don’t much approve.”

She glanced up at him but kept walking. “I don’t have the right to approve or disapprove of your life, Daniel. All I know is what politics and politicians did to me. The power of leadership too often becomes tyranny. People are sacrificed to once-noble ideas of the greater good, and the individual rights become lost in all of that planning and scheming. I lost eleven thousand years of my life to it. Don’t you think I have the right to be a little bitter?”

He laughed. “I think you have the right to be all kinds of bitter, Serai. I also think you’re right that we don’t have the time for it now. After this, though? We’re going to have a big old wallow.”

She started laughing. “With cake? There definitely needs to be cake with our wallowing.”

“And beer,” he added. “Cake and beer. Fried chicken, maybe.”

“You’re making me hungry. Do we have more food in that pack of yours?”

He stopped and set the backpack down on a rock and rummaged around and found granola bars and apples. He handed one of each to Serai, along with a bottle of water.

“It’s no royal feast, that’s for sure,” he said. “All we’ve got for now, though. When this is over, and we’re wallowing, I’ll take you out to eat at the best restaurant we can find.”

“Before or after the beer and cake?” She bit into her apple, and a blissful expression crossed her face, which immediately made him think of what else he could do to cause her to look like that, which made him desperately need another cold shower.

He settled for leaning against the rock, putting the pack on his lap as camouflage, and biting into a granola bar.

“This is delicious,” she said. “I missed fruit, perhaps even as much as cake.”

“This granola bar is really freaking nasty,” he said, spitting it out.

“Try the apple,” she advised, taking another bite of her own. “Do you need to drink my blood?”

He was glad he’d already spit out the piece of granola bar, because otherwise he surely would have choked on it. “Do I what?”

She regarded him calmly. “It was a reasonable question, Nightwalker. Do you need to drink my blood? I see no other around to serve as donor, and I don’t want my only ally on this quest to be weakened by hunger when we find the Emperor.”

“I—you—” He couldn’t find the words. Offering her blood to the monster. What next? Baring her neck? Did she have a death wish?

“Or is it thirst?” She tilted her head, still staring at him as if he were a somewhat interesting scientific experiment. “Do you consider the need for blood to be hunger or thirst?”

“I try not to consider it at all. The bloodlust is more powerful than either hunger or thirst. And, no, I don’t need to drink your blood. Don’t ever, ever offer to let me drink your blood again.” It took all of his willpower not to shout at her. What the hell was she thinking?

“Fine. It’s not like I’m going to offer to let anyone else drink my blood,” she said, tossing her apple core into the bushes for an animal’s breakfast and neatly stowing her empty water bottle in a pocket of the backpack, which was still on his lap, which brought her too close to him for comfort, considering the bizarre conversation they were having.

Far too close for comfort.

The meaning behind her words caught up with him, and he scowled at her. “Damn straight you’re never going