Atlantis Rising

'You're alive, aknasha. I will never ask for anything else.'

Alaric shimmered into shape beside him, scanning the room even as he crouched down next to Denal. 'What happened here? Why are they unconscious? There are no wounds that I can see.'

'Bring me a blanket,' Conlan demanded. 'I need to cover her. Take her to a bed.'

Alaric shook his head. 'Do not move her yet. Let me check for internal injuries.' He moved closer, held a hand over Riley's shoulder.

Conlan fought against his urge to snarl at the priest. His primal instincts had gone savage with the need to defend and protect, like an animal with its mate.

'I'm not touching her, Conlan. You need to—oh!' The priest yanked his hand away as if he'd been burned. Then he stared up at Conlan, shock widening his eyes.

'Move your shirt away from her back, Conlan. I must see her shoulder.' The utter bewilderment in Alaric's voice persuaded Conlan to comply. He gently moved a corner of the fabric covering her.

And they both stared at the mark of the Trident, still smoking around the edges, branded into her skin.

'This is a mark I cannot heal, Conlan,' Alaric murmured.

As they stared at each other, then back at the blackened skin, Riley's eyelashes fluttered open.

'Conlan? Alaric? Am I dead?'

Before he could answer her, she'd lapsed back into a deep level of unconsciousness. Alaric had been unable to bring her around from it and had suggested sleep. Conlan carried her to the bedroom and gently cleansed her legs and hands of the blood and gore that streaked them.

His hands trembled as he stroked the curve of her ankle, and he wanted to scream. Wanted to rage, destroy, murder someone or something.

Wanted to cry.

Did none of those things. Didn't deserve to cry for her. He'd left her to be attacked. She could have been killed.

He wasn't only worthless as a prince. He was worthless as a man.

She deserved better.

He paused, warm washcloth clenched in his hand, and gazed at her pale skin. Even now, his mind rebelled at the thought of anybody harming her. Someone was going to die. Why had she been nude? What had they done to her? Who was they?

The thought of any man—or, worse, any creature—attacking her spiked a soul-annihilating rage through him.

But why the Trident? Alaric had said it was the priest's mark, would say no more until Riley was awake.

But the priest had been shaken. Unsure. Almost afraid, if the harsh lines of his face were any indicator.

'Riley,' Conlan whispered, pulling the blanket over her now-clean form. 'Please come back to me.'

A knock sounded at the door. He positioned himself between the door and the bed, hands on his daggers. 'Enter.'

Ven opened the door. 'We're ready to go. I have another place, way outside of town. No houses around it for miles. Nobody but me knows about it, since I only bought it a few months ago.'

Ven crossed to his brother. Looked down at the sleeping form on the bed. 'Is she going to be okay?'

Conlan knelt beside her, gently moved the hair back from her face. 'She has to be,' he replied simply. 'Or I will end with her.'

Ven started to speak, stopped, laid a hand on Conlan's shoulder. 'Then we'll make sure she's okay. Let's go.'

Conlan tucked the blanket more securely around Riley and swept her into his arms. He followed Ven down the hall, where the others stood waiting, loosely circling Alaric, who was as pale as death.

'Brennan and Denal are in the back of the Hummer,' Bastien said. 'Alaric told us they are only sleeping, and will wake soon.'

'A sleep like I've never seen,' muttered Justice. 'They didn't even flinch when we carried them out to the vehicles. Makes you wonder what happened to them.'

Alexios pointed to an umbrella, lying on the floor. 'Why the umbrella? There were weapons all over the floor when we entered behind you. I counted an axe, several daggers, and both of their swords. But no weapons from any intruders, nor any sign of them, except for their blood on our weapons.'

Christophe held his hands out, palms raised. 'Not that this is my thing, but since Alaric is out of commission, I can try to feel what power might have been used.'

He closed his eyes and lifted his head, muscles in his neck straining. Then his body jerked, as if struck. 'Somebody called power here. Huge power. On the level of what hit us at that warehouse, Alaric. What could do that?'

Christophe turned to Alaric. 'Neither Denal nor Brennan can channel the elements on this level. What could have called this power?'

'It was the Trident,' the priest said flatly. 'Poseidon delivered his staff to Riley and ordained her.'

Alaric's laughter was tinged with dark wildness. 'It appears Poseidon has claimed your aknasha, Conlan. Now she belongs to him.'

They drove to the new safe house, Alaric refusing to speculate further on what might have happened. Or even discuss what he'd meant about Riley. The house was a rambling farmhouse type, set well back from what Ven said was a sparsely traveled country road. Conlan had noticed signs for various horse-related businesses and seen a few horses in fields as they passed. He waited in the car with Riley while the others cleared the building. Nobody was taking any more chances.

'It's not set up like a bunker now, but it has great potential to be refurbished. Plus, it has the advantage of being way the hell out in the boonies,' Ven said when he returned.

'I don't care what it takes. Put everyone on watch,' Conlan said flatly. 'Well, all but Denal and Brennan. Let them rest.'

'Are you kidding? I couldn't make them rest if I tied them down,' Ven said. 'Ever since they came to, they're hell-bent on protecting Lady Sunshine. They appear to have one helluva story to tell.'

Conlan scowled at his brother, but Ven simply shook his head, his face solemn. 'I'm right there with them, bro. They said she dove into the middle of the vamps. That's way beyond the call, man.'

He glanced at the motionless shape in Conlan's arms as they walked into the house. 'She's quite a woman. She deserves better than what we've gotten her into.'

Ice spread through Conlan's veins. When he spoke, a barely controlled ferocity underscored his words. 'She does. But I can't… I won't let her go. Not ever, Ven.'

Ven shrugged. 'It's not me you have to convince. Alaric seems to have some thoughts on the matter. I'd be glad to get out of the 'do not pass Go, marry an eleven-thousand-year-old virgin' rules myself. But smarter men than me are going to have to figure that one out.'

He showed Conlan to a spacious room at the end of the hall on the second floor and excused himself. Conlan gently laid Riley on the bed and covered her with the quilt, wishing her breathing weren't so shallow.

Her skin weren't so pale.

Then he dragged a chair across the carpet, right up next to the bed, and took one of her hands in both of his. And prayed to the god who had left him to suffer for seven years.

Some hours later, Ven came back to let him know that Denal and Brennan were asking to see him.

Conlan sat in his chair, still holding Riley's hand. He needed to touch at least her skin, since her mind and emotions were closed to him.

He forced himself to breathe past the rock in his throat that threatened to choke him. Alaric had said she'd be fine. He had to hold on to that.

Poseidon's silence had. been deafening.

'Bring them,' Conlan demanded. 'I won't leave her.'

Ven nodded. 'I figured as much. They're here.'

Conlan watched as Denal and Brennan walked into the room, their gaze focused on Riley. Brennan gave him a cursory nod, then returned his attention to the bed.

Denal threw back his head and howled a cry of such anguish that the hair on Conlan's arms stood at