stayed as far away from wholesome women as he could. Just the thought of being permanently grounded made him nauseous. His captors should have locked him up with a slutty-looking brunette. Then he might have talked.
His jaw clenched. He never should have acquired that damn medallion.
What had Grace done with it? And why the hell had he sent it to her? He hadn't meant to involve her; he simply hadn't realized the extent of the danger until it was too late. He didn't know what he'd do if she were hurt. There were only three people he gave a shit about, and Grace was at the top of the list. His mom and Aunt Sophie claimed a close second and third.
Teira gave him another gentle shake. Her fingers were like ice, and he noticed her teeth were chattering.
'What do you want?' he barked.
She flinched but didn't back away. 'You need me?' she asked again. Her soft voice floated over him, as lilting as a spring breeze. Her English wasn't very good, but she'd managed to learn the basics-and quite quickly, too. How convenient.
'I'm fine,' he repeated.
'I help warm you.'
'I don't need your goddamn help. Go to your side of the cell and leave me alone.'
Her innocent features dimmed as she scooted away.
He fought a wave of disappointment. He would never tell her, would never admit it aloud, but he liked her nearness. Dirt might streak the smoothness of her skin, but she still smelled as exotic as a summer storm. The scent comforted him-but scared him, too. She was not his type, but he often found himself gazing at her, yearning to hold her, to touch her.
As if she sensed his inner longings, she moved back to him and smoothed her trembling fingertips over his forehead, down his nose and along his jaw, her touch light. 'Why will you not let me help?' she asked.
He sighed, savoring her caress even while he knew he should make her stop. Cameras were probably hidden everywhere, and he didn't want anyone to think he'd finally caved where this woman was concerned.
'Do you have a syringe? Do you have whatever the hell they're giving me?'
'No.'
'Then you can't help me.'
She began tracing strange symbols over his cheek. An intense concentration settled over her features.
His tremors gradually slowed, and his coldness receded. His muscles relaxed.
'Feel better?' she asked, a trace of weakness to the words.
He managed to give her an indifferent frown and lift his shoulders in a shrug. What symbols had she drawn and what did they mean? And how in God's name had they helped him? He was too stubborn to ask.
'Why you not like me?' she whispered, biting her lower lip.
'I like you just fine.' He wouldn't admit that he would have died without her. His captors, the same men who had chased him through the jungle, then plucked him from one location to the other, had been brutal. He'd been beaten, drugged and nearly drained, and shuddered with each memory. Always Teira was there, waiting for him, comforting him. Holding him with her quiet strength and dignity.
'Why do they have you locked in here?' he asked her, wishing immediately that he could snatch the words back. He didn't want to watch her features cloud with deceit as she spun a web of lies. He knew why she was here. Didn't he?
Softly, gently, she lay beside him and wrapped one arm around his waist. The woman craved bodily contact like no one else he'd ever met, as if she'd been denied it most of her life. And he'd be lying if he said her little body didn't feel good curled up next to him.
'They kill my man and all of his army. I try to… what is the word?' Her brow scrunched as she searched her mind.
He gazed deeply into her eyes. They were as devoid of duplicity as always. 'Defeat them?'
'Yes,' she said. 'Defeat them. I try and defeat them.'
Whether he believed her story or not, he didn't like the thought of her being tied to another man. And he liked even less that he cared. 'I didn't know you were married.'
She looked away from him, past him, over his shoulder. Sorrow and grief radiated from her, and when she next spoke, her pain was like a living thing. 'The union end too quickly.'
He found himself reaching out to her for the first time. He wrapped his fingers around her palm and gave a light squeeze. 'Why did they kill him?'
'To control the mist he guarded and steal his wealth. Even here, in this cell, they removed the jewels from the walls. I miss him,' she added softly.
To control the mist he guarded … Alex had known she was from Atlantis, though he had failed to realize she was the wife of a Guardian. Or rather, former wife. God, he felt stupid. Of course she would be kept alive. She would know things about the mist that no one else knew.
He studied Teira's face with fresh eyes, taking in the elegant slope of her nose and the perfect curve of her pale brows. 'How long has your-' Alex couldn't bring himself to say husband '-has he been gone?'
'Weeks now. So many weeks.' Reaching up, Teira traced the seam of his lips. 'You help me escape?'
Escape. How wonderful the word sounded. How terrifying. He'd lost track of time and didn't even know how long he'd been imprisoned. A day? A year? At first, he'd tried numerous times to flee, but he'd always been unsuccessful.
He rolled onto his back, and the action made his bones ache. He groaned. Teira wasted no time tucking her head into the hollow of his neck and placing her leg over his.
'You are lonely like me,' she said. 'I know you are.'
She fit perfectly against him. Too perfectly. As if she'd been made specifically to match his body curve for curve. And he was lonely. He stared up at the flat ceiling. What was he going to do with this woman? Was she a heartless bitch who only wanted the medallion and was willing to sell her body to get it? Or was she as innocent as she appeared?
'Tell me about you.'
She'd made the same request a thousand times before. It wouldn't hurt to give her some information about himself, he decided. Nothing important, just a tidbit or two. He wouldn't mention Grace, of course. He didn't dare. His love for his sister could be used against him, and that he wouldn't allow.
'I'm twenty-nine years old,' he told Teira. He placed his hands on her head and sifted his fingers through her hair. Not only did the strands look like pearly moonlight, they felt like it, too. 'I've always had a passion for fast cars.' And even faster women, but he didn't disclose that part. 'I've never been married, and I don't have children. I live in an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.'
'Man-hat-tan,' she said, testing the word on her tongue. 'Tell me more.'
He didn't mention the crime or the pollution but gave her the details he knew she craved. 'No matter what time of day or night, crowds of people wander the streets as far as the eye can see. Buildings stretch up to the sky. Shops and bakeries never close. It's a place where every desire can be indulged.'
'My people rarely stray to the surface, but your Man-hat-tan sounds like a place we would enjoy.'
'Tell me about your home.'
Dreamy remembrance clouded her eyes, making the gold darken to chocolate. She snuggled deeper into his side. 'We are inside a dragon palace, though you cannot tell by this cell. Outside, the sea flows all around. Flowers of every color bloom. There are many temples of worship,' she said, slipping into her native tongue, 'but most of us have forgotten them because we ourselves have been forgotten.'
'I'm sorry.' While he was coming to understand some of her language, he wasn't close to fluent. 'I only understood a little of what you said.'
'I say I wish I could show you.'
No, she'd said more than that, but he let it go. How wonderful it would be to trek through Atlantis. If he met the inhabitants, studied the homes, wandered the streets and inundated himself within the culture, he could write a book about his experiences. He could-Alex shuddered when he realized he was diving back into his old pattern of thought.
'I wish I had the power to help you understand my language,' Teira said. 'But my powers are not strong enough to cast a spell.' She paused, traced her fingertips over his jaw. 'Who is Grace?'
