Heart of Atlantis

His woman.

His for all of eternity.

He was still kissing her, with her enthusiastic participation, when they arrived in Atlantis. Suddenly the air rang with applause, and Alaric realized they were the center of attention.

“Oh, no,” Quinn said, pushing away from him. “Put me down right now.”

He did as she asked and then held out his hand. She withdrew Poseidon’s Pride from her pocket and handed it over, and in the exact moment when both of their hands were touching the gem, a thunderclap sounded inside the dome, and a lightning strike of power sizzled through Alaric’s body. Quinn cried out in shock, so she must have experienced it, too, but then someone started screaming that Atlantis was collapsing.

“Not on our watch,” Quinn said, but it would have sounded better if she hadn’t been having such a hard time catching her breath.

A part of Alaric wanted nothing more than to return to the kissing, especially now that every nerve ending in his body was on fire with the gem’s magic, but the current emergency outweighed all else. So instead he took Quinn’s hand and headed into the temple. At least twenty people followed them.

* * *

Quinn couldn’t believe she’d been caught kissing Alaric in the middle of Atlantis, during the worst crisis in the history of the continent, but after what they’d been through, she kind of didn’t care. When she passed Riley and Aidan on the way to the temple, Riley gave her a thumbs-up.

“Way to go, sis.”

Alaric growled and walked faster, and Quinn had an insane urge to laugh. Family dinners were going to be interesting.

Alaric stopped outside the door to the Trident’s room, where a half dozen exhausted men and women, plus Myrken, sat against the wall. Five more were asleep or unconscious on the floor a little farther down the hall.

“Stay here,” Alaric commanded. “I do not know how bad this will get.”

She nodded but said nothing, not even “Have you met me?” As soon as he went inside the room, she looked at her old pal, Myrken.

“Got any rope? I’ve got an idea.”

He jumped up before the words were out of her mouth. Not bad for someone who looked as though the Trident had drained all the life out of his body. She headed for the stairs and on the way explained the exact place she was seeking. When they arrived at the vantage point she’d been hoping for, she explained her plan and watched Myrken turn seventeen shades of pale.

“If I get you killed, Lord Alaric will kill me next.”

She shook her head. “I won’t let him kill you, and anyway, I won’t die. So pull that panel off the wall, so I can find out if I can squeeze into that vent.”

She managed to fit, just barely, but it was tight, and her newly discovered claustrophobia came screaming back. She didn’t have time for phobias, though, and so she powered through, all of her mental focus on what was going on in that room beneath her. When she pushed through to the end of the vent and edged out onto the narrow niche, she looked down and flinched.

Alaric was leaning forward, clearly straining to control the Trident, which appeared to be trying to beat him to death. Or else it was trying to reunite with the tourmaline and being really aggressive about it. Either way. Alaric was in trouble, and he’d closed or sealed the door to the room, so nobody else was there to help.

Quinn to the rescue. She didn’t stop to wonder whether or not being able to touch Poseidon’s Pride meant she would be able to touch the Trident. She didn’t stop to think she might be plunging to her death on a rope that wasn’t strong enough to hold her.

All she cared about was Alaric. He needed her. She double-checked her grip on the rope, made sure that Myrken and his pals had a good hold on the other end, and she leapt. Down through the air, aiming straight for the Trident. She caught it in midair as she fell, and pure, unadulterated power flamed through her, setting her on fire from the inside out. She screamed because it felt like her blood was literally boiling in her veins, and the pain was beyond any torture she’d ever endured. She realized she was coming down too far and too fast, and she prayed for a quick death, but she didn’t let go.

She did not let go.

She screamed again, just before Alaric’s strong arms caught her and he was there, holding her and snatching the Trident from her miraculously unblackened hand. He kissed her face, kissed the tears running down her cheeks, and held the Trident at arm’s length from her, all while swearing a blue streak in Atlantean.

Or at least she thought it was Atlantean. Now that she wasn’t being roasted from the inside out by the weapon of an angry god, relief made her almost giddy.

“You need to teach me to cuss in Atlantean,” she said, and he actually growled at her before he put her down, shoved the tourmaline in the Trident’s empty slot with an audible click, and slapped the whole thing down on the cushion on its pedestal.

Then they both stepped back and stared at the thing, which seemed content now to lie there peacefully, glowing softly, like a colicky baby that has finally exhausted itself.

“If you don’t drive me to drink or madness within the year, I will count myself exceedingly lucky,” Alaric said slowly, and she realized he was clutching his head as if he were in pain.

“You know, I could say the same thing about you, Mr. I Must Do the Dangerous Stuff Alone,” she shot back at him. “Also, feel free to heal my head, because I think Ptolemy gave me a concussion in addition to this split lip, and playing Mission: Impossible didn’t help any.”

His aggravation instantly turned to concern, and he sent healing magic through her face and head, and then through her entire body for good measure, and she suddenly felt as if she could take on the world all over again.

“I will kill him,” Alaric said, and although she had her pick of contestants, it was a safe bet he was talking about Ptolemy.

“There’s one you can check off your list.” She told him about the atrocities and the sight of Ptolemy being stabbed through the chest.

“It might not have been his heart,” she added, considering the demons’ questionable anatomy. “But even so, they didn’t seem like the type to help a guy when he was down. He’s probably lunch.”

“None deserved it more,” Alaric said flatly. “I only regret I was not able to kill him myself. You have an annoying habit of getting yourself out of trouble.”

She grinned. “Rebel leader, remember? Although, not anymore. Maybe we can have a nap and then decide what to do with the rest of our lives.”

The clamor and pounding at the door grew louder. Alaric waved a hand, and the door burst inward under the weight of half a dozen warriors and many other people, both men and women.

“What’s happening?” Conlan said, pushing to the front. “Alaric, I’m going to kick your ass if you ever do that to me again.”

“As you see,” Alaric began, except then, naturally, something did start to happen.

“You don’t have some kind of ritual?” Quinn asked nobody in particular, but she forgot her question as the Trident levitated into the air and rotated until it was standing on its base, with its three prongs pointing up. An arrow of light shot out of each of its tines, and the three streams joined together to form a shining column of pure white light that was headed straight for the ceiling.

Quinn immediately saw a potential problem. “Um, is there a skylight?”

“No,” Alaric said, and she prepared to jump out of the way of falling stone, but just as everyone started moving toward the door, the ceiling of the temple opened like the petals of a flower. The tower of light shot up and up, straight past the top of the temple and up to what must be the ceiling of the dome.

“Oh, boy,” Quinn said. “If that blasts through the dome, when we’re underwater . . .”

This time it was Myrken who answered her. “No, my lady, this is exactly what the ancient scrolls say is supposed to happen. We should go outside for this.”

They all raced outside, and the ground gave a jarring lurch right underneath their feet, like an earthquake. Quinn grabbed for Alaric’s hand.