Heart of Atlantis

Alaric tried to take her hand, but she flinched away.

“No. Let me tell it all, first. You see, he didn’t rape me. I let him . . . I let him. I became his toy. I pretended to like it. I became the whore he thought I was, just to survive. Just to find a way to kill him.” Tears streamed down her face, unchecked, and he wondered if she even noticed them.

He swung around and dropped to his knees in front of her; not touching her, not crowding her, but facing her so he could tell her the most important truth he knew.

“No. Never that. Never a toy, never a whore. What you were—and are—is a survivor. You survived, under impossible, unbearable circumstances. You survived, and you made sure that he did not. Your strength humbles me, mi amara. I am in awe of your courage.”

Slowly, tentatively, she reached for him and touched his face with one delicate hand. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I have never meant anything more in my life,” he said, leaning into her touch. “You are a survivor, and you have protected so many because you had the courage to endure the unendurable.”

A ghost of a smile traced her lips. “Moira said the same thing. Maybe you’re not so hopeless at this counseling thing, after all. I’ll have to tell Myrken.”

“He will be elated,” he said dryly.

She laughed a little, and he knew he’d never heard any sound so sweet.

“Will you hold me now?”

“Always,” he said, and he gently pulled her into his embrace, as careful as if he touched the most fragile of cherished treasures; realizing even as the thought crossed his mind that, in fact, he did.

“I’ve, ah, recovered a great deal since then,” she whispered. “Moira helped, and Jack helped, but mostly just the passage of time and throwing myself into my work helped me to heal. I’m not . . . I’m not fragile anymore.”

He stilled. “Quinn, what are you saying to me?”

She blushed a hot pink all the way to the tips of her delicate ears. “I’m saying that I’m not afraid to be intimate. I—well. I had a sort of casual, sort of not casual encounter . . . well. Enough of that. I’m not afraid of physical closeness, Alaric. I just never found anyone worth trying to have it with, before now.”

“I am honored that you would trust me with this gift,” he said, humbled yet again by her bravery. Wondering if his own could match hers.

She suddenly laughed. “It’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it? All those years of celibacy, and now you have to throw in my background trauma. I’m surprised you’re not flying out of that window.”

He knew, by the sincerity of her laughter, that she’d told him the truth. She’d overcome her past and was ready to move forward. Now it fell to him to deserve her. He had to tell the truth and let her see his flaws. Chief among them, at the moment, was a searing jealousy.

“If we are to have honesty between us, I must admit that I would kill him, too, this casual encounter, if I could,” he said, a wave of fierce possessiveness surging through him. “You should know that if you ever give yourself to me, there will be no more casual or not casual encounters in your life, ever. You will be mine, utterly and completely, as I will be yours.”

She blinked. “You know, these days, people have amicable breakups all the time.”

He narrowed his eyes. “No. Not for us. I will keep you forever. Everything in Atlantean culture dictates free will, Quinn. Even the soul-meld does not take away choice, but I must be entirely candid with you. I know my own nature, and I will never, ever let you go if you say yes to me. You must factor that into any decision.”

She grinned. “So, no casual sex, is that what you’re saying?”

He laughed then and kissed her thoroughly, not stopping until she was breathless. “And yes, I will always want to kill anyone who ever even thinks about harming you. That, too, is in my nature.”

She laughed a little, but her eyes were shining with unshed tears. “You can’t protect me from my past, Alaric, but I confess I love you for wanting to.”

He stilled, every inch of his body turning motionless. She’d said she loved him.

She loved him.

She loved him.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

She tilted her head. “Say what?”

“No. No, you do not get to say those words to me and pretend you don’t remember saying them.” He stood up, still holding her, and tossed her on the bed, then pounced and landed just above her, careful not to press her down or make her feel trapped.

“You said you love me,” he told her. “Say it again.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, I said . . . No, I meant—”

“Do not. Do not begin to pretend that you don’t love me, aknasha,” he whispered. “I have seen inside your heart, remember? When all of Atlantis might be destroyed in the next forty-eight hours, do not deprive me of the truth of your feelings during this brief moment before duty calls me away from you.”

She suddenly shoved him, hard, and he fell over next to her. She rolled over to face him, and her expression was far too serious. Or maybe not serious enough. Alaric found himself wishing he could take back his impulsive words.

“I do love you,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to admit it, because if ever there were a textbook version of a doomed relationship, we’re pretty much it. But I can’t help myself, no matter how hard I’ve tried. I’ve seen inside your heart, too, remember? And there you were, shining in the darkness. Honor, courage, duty, and a heaping helping of iron will. How could I not love you?”

He rolled onto his back and shouted a wordless cry of triumph to the world, and then he paused and looked at her. “And?”

“And what?”

“And world-bending kisses,” he said, and he pulled her on top of his chest. “Let me demonstrate.”

So he did. He kissed her until he no longer knew where they were or what their names were. There was no Alaric; no Quinn. Only the passion that burned so brightly between them he could hardly countenance that it did not set the room on fire. The silken feel of her lips against his breathed hope and laughter into his soul, and hunger turned to an emotion far deeper—far more powerful—far more life-sustaining.

Fire and warmth and home. She was and forever would be home to him, no matter what foes or battles he faced. The realization blazed through him like the summer sun breaking through the clouds after a tropical thunderstorm, and the kind of peace he’d never known suffused his mind, his heart, and his soul.

His body hardened past the point of endurance, until need and hunger drove him toward madness. He had to touch her—touch her now—touch her everywhere. He stroked the silky skin of her arms and shoulders, and even dared to press kisses along the elegant line of her collarbone. She was so thin—too thin— but far more beautiful than any woman he’d ever known.

More beautiful than any woman in the history of the world.

He abruptly stopped kissing her when a concern surfaced. “You need food.”

“No, I had room service, remember?” She pulled his head back to kiss him some more and then she raised her head. “Do you need food?”

“I’m interested in dessert. You,” he said, his voice straining to sound even a little calm. “Quinn, I think we have to make a decision right now, because I’m going to tear your clothes off in approximately seven seconds if we keep this up.”

She grinned. “Oh, are we keeping you up?”

She put her hand on his erection, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“I cannot believe you did that,” he said, trying not to go off in his pants like an untried youngling. Or, more to the point, like a man who had been celibate for most of his five centuries of existence.

“I don’t actually believe it, either,” she said, looking a little stunned.

“Five seconds,” he ground out. “Four, three—”

“Wait!” She jumped up and off the bed and backed away, panic written on her delicate features. “Nothing has changed. You can’t—we can’t—”