Vampire in Atlantis

energy. The bloodlust he’d controlled for so many thousands of years was raising its monstrous head to scent its prey.
    And Serai smelled like prey.

Chapter 12
     

     

Sedona
     
    Serai sank farther into the scented water until only her knees and head remained above the clouds of frothy bubbles. The bath salts had a pleasing floral scent, but that of no flower she knew or remembered. It was no Atlantean tub, to be sure. She’d do no swimming or even languid floating with her friends here in this hotel bathroom. After so long without a bath, though, with only magical stasis-maintained cleanliness, this small tub felt fit for a king. Or at least fit for a once-almost-queen. One who wanted nothing more than to scrub the scent of fire and blood and battle from her skin.
    The steamy heat sank into her tired muscles, soothing and relaxing them after a day and night of activity that surely had been more strenuous than a normal person’s week. Or month. She hadn’t even known that she had the ability to shift her shape to that of the ancient tiger, and yet she’d done it not once but twice. The saber-toothed tiger had been her favorite animal to study in the schoolroom. So beautiful and yet fierce and deadly.
    Rather like Daniel. An image of him, standing over her and ferociously protecting her from attack, flashed into her mind, and she drew a shaky breath. He was the fiercest warrior she’d ever seen, and every ounce of that rage and power had been focused on saving her.
    A tingling sensation swept through her at the thought of him—her vampire warrior and protector—waiting in the next room, with only a door between them. Her nipples stiffened and she blinked to see their pink tips pointing up through the bubbles. She raised her hands to cup her breasts and ran an exploratory thumb over one nipple, gasping at the electric sensation that pinged through her body from that sensitive place to another, even more sensitive place.
    How much more exciting would it be if it were Daniel touching her there? She caught her breath at the thought, feeling deliciously naughty and then, suddenly, starkly ashamed. Men and women had just died , and she herself had killed one of them. Yes, it had been a vampire who’d been attacking Reisen, bent on killing him. Yes, it had been in battle.
    But she’d never even struck anyone in anger, and now she’d killed a man. A vampire, like Daniel. How could she dismiss that so easily? The tears began to run down her face as the horrible inventory unfolded in her mind. Quinn’s friend Jack, the man who’d been kind enough to spend part of his day protecting Serai from her own foolishness, was wounded perhaps beyond hope of healing. His humanity might never return. Several more of the rebels—more friends—were also dead or injured.
    All of it due to a vampire attack that might even have had something to do with the Emperor and whoever had stolen it. Not to mention the maidens lying helpless in Atlantis, waiting for her to find the Emperor and save them.
    And yet—in spite of all of that—here she sat in luxury and peace in her bath, playing at ideas of being a sexual temptress. Shame and exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she dropped her head to her knees and gave in to the sobs that had lain in wait for her since she first stepped foot out of that pod.
    So much responsibility on Serai’s inexperienced shoulders. Too much, perhaps. If she failed them, her sisters-in-stasis would die—because of her . She’d never been responsible for anything more important than choosing a new gown for a ball, and now the fate of the maidens, and maybe even that of Atlantis itself, lay in her hands. The Seven Isles couldn’t rise to the surface without all of the jewels from Poseidon’s trident.
    It was too much. Far too much. She couldn’t possibly live up to the task. She pulled a towel from the heated bar near the tub and pressed her face into it, the end trailing in the water, so the sound of her sobs wouldn’t reach beyond the bathing room.
    When the door crashed open, she knew she’d failed at even that. Moving so fast he was a blur, Daniel crossed to the tub and pulled her up and out of it, cradling her—wet towel, bubbles, and all—on his lap.
    “Serai? Are you injured? Should we call for a healer or a doctor?” He stared into her eyes, holding her tightly to his chest, and she felt herself flush so hot her skin must be on fire.
    “Daniel! I’m not injured, but I’m . . . I have