Atlantis Rising

warriors.

Conlan growled again and took her hand back. 'As I was saying, the one who thinks he's a ladies' man is Christophe, and this is Alexios.'

A man who stood in the corner, half behind a bookcase, nodded his head to her and bowed slightly, but didn't speak. When he lifted his head, she caught sight of ferocious scarring on his face, but he quickly ducked his head so that his amazing golden hair covered it. The morning light from the window lit up his mane of hair like a crown.

She blurted out what she was thinking. 'Wow. Movie stars would pay a fortune to have hair like that. You are so lucky.'

Alexios lifted his head again, eyes narrowed, mouth flattened in a grimace. His scars showed up in harsh relief in the sunlight. 'Lucky? Perhaps once, long ago. You'd do well to remain far from me and my version of luck.'

She recognized the pain in his eyes and, almost without thinking, dropped her shields a fraction and reached out to him.

Then jerked back so hard she slammed her back into the wall. 'No, no, I'm… I'm so sorry,' she whispered.

She crashed her mental shields back down. 'I am sorry for your pain and your loss, Alexios' she said, her voice gaining strength. 'Please don't give up hope, though. There is always a chance of a better tomorrow.'

'Stay out of my emotions, empath' the warrior growled. 'You invade my privacy.'

Conlan tried to pull away from her, body tensing, but she stopped him with pressure on his hand. She considered telling Alexios it had been accidental, discarded the idea for truth, and held her head high. 'You are completely right. And I apologize for that, as well.'

Alexios paused for a moment, surprise widening his eyes, and then he bowed to her. 'Your apology is accepted. As Bastien stated so elegantly, your courage yesterday has purchased you much forgiveness with me.'

Conlan squeezed her hand. She sensed the pride and relief he felt, wondered at the strength of the feelings.

Even through her shields.

Another warrior stood up from a wing chair and walked toward her, then stopped and bowed. His face was all sharp planes and hard lines, and waves of black hair swept back from all that hard masculinity to his shoulders.

He had the palest green eyes she'd ever seen—a color that made her think of springtime. 'I am Brennan, Lady Riley. You have my gratitude, as well, for your courage last night. I would ask a favor from you, if I may.'

Conlan asked before Riley could get the words out. 'What kind of favor, Brennan?'

Brennan inclined his head toward Conlan, then turned back toward Riley, eyes intent, yet oddly devoid of any emotion. The guy had to be a great poker player.

'Contrary to Alexios, I would ask that you scan me and let me know what you might learn of my emotions,' he asked in a perfectly flat, perfectly calm tone of voice.

It sparked her curiosity. 'Why would you ask that? Is this some kind of a test?'

He tilted his head to one side. 'Perhaps. But a test only of myself and not of you. Will you grant me this small favor?'

Riley looked up at Conlan, who nodded, jaw tightening. 'Only if you want to do it, Riley.'

She hesitated, then nodded. Pulling her hand from Conlan's, she held both hands out at her sides, closed her eyes, and opened her mental door. An odd buzzing assailed her senses, as if the mental currents of the Atlanteans in the room were being broadcast in stereo at her, but from a distant location.

She focused on Brennan and shut out the feedback noise. As she'd done with Conlan, she sent her senses winging inside of the warrior who stood so still before her, though she flinched a little, anticipating the force of his emotions.

Then gasped at what she found. Or, rather, at what she didn't.

Her eyes snapped open in shock. 'How are you doing that? How are you shielding your emotions so completely that I can't feel the slightest glimmer of them?'

The warrior looked down at her, eyes still calm. 'I shield nothing. Would you try again?'

She blinked, not understanding. 'Would you mind if I touch you?'

From beside her, Conlan made that strange growling noise again. Then he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to him.

'Honestly! I've had enough of this territory-marking crap from you,' she said, elbowing Conlan in the side and pulling away from him. 'Get over yourself. This is interesting.'

Brennan raised one eyebrow, and somebody in the room barked out a laugh. Riley ignored them both. 'May I?' she asked again.

Brennan nodded once and closed his eyes. Riley took a step closer to him, close enough that she could reach his face with her hands, but not so close that Conlan would have another Tarzan moment. She lifted her hands and placed them on Brennan's cheeks.

Closing her eyes, she sent her senses probing inside of him, more forcefully than before. Searching, seeking, delving for the slightest hint of color—the tiniest trace of emotion.

There was nothing. The depths and shallows of his soul were as clear as crystalline mountain water. As transparent as melted glacier ice.

There was nothing. No feelings. No emotions. 'It's as if your soul has died—your humanity has died—but your body doesn't know it yet,' she whispered, regretting the words as soon as they'd slipped out.

She lowered her hands, backing away from him. 'What are you? How can your soul be empty of all but your intellect?'

Brennan smiled, but not the slightest touch of it reached his eyes. 'I am cursed. I had hoped that one who is aknasha would find some trace of the emotions that I'd prayed one day to regain. But if it is not so, then you are correct. I am merely a dead man imitating the actions of the living.'

The utter absence of feeling behind the words, which should have been screamed in agony and sorrow, underscored what he'd told her.

Impulsively, she placed a hand on his arm. 'I don't understand much about this aknasha business. But if anything about this ability I have—well, if in any way I can figure out how to use it to help you, I promise to do my best.'

Behind her, Conlan inhaled sharply, and she turned to him, ready to argue. But the look in his eyes had nothing to do with possession, and everything to do with awe. 'You honor us, Riley. We bring vampires to your home, abduct you in the middle of the night, and treat you like a prisoner, and yet you have the grace to offer your help to my warrior brother.'

She blushed and rolled her eyes. 'It's not that big a deal. I just—'

'You just offered your help, again, after you may well have saved my life last night. Believe me, it is a very big deal.'

Brennan bowed deeply to her. 'And to me, a great honor indeed that you would offer.'

Before she could think of a reply, she heard the sound of a throat clearing behind her. She turned back toward the room, and the man she'd seen lying injured on the ground the night before stood in front of her, daggers unsheathed and crossed before him.

'I am Denal, Lady Riley. And your courage and selflessness shall be the source of the songs of poets for centuries to come,' he said, voice fervent.

Then he dropped to one knee before her. 'I hereby declare myself to be Lady Riley's champion and defender, if she will have me.'

She watched, speechless, as he held his daggers out to her, handles first, and bowed his head. She swung her head to look at Conlan, hoping for advice on how to handle the situation, but he merely lifted his shoulders briefly and said nothing.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her mental shields again and fought that curious feedback buzzing, then