Warriors of Poseidon 01 - Atlantis Rising

her tiny garden. Four, no five, men stood below, standing in a loose ring around Conlan. She Atlantis Rising – Warriors of Poseidon 01
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    noticed that they were all the size of Conlan, and all dressed in black, before she wrenched her attention to the figure standing alone in the midst of them.
     
    Looking up at her.
     
    "Oh, holy crap, it's you," she whispered, placing her palms on the window, trapped in his gaze.
     
    Yes, it is definitely me. If I'm only a figment of your imagination, can the figment say that I'd really appreciate it if you'd… rethink… your clothing before you show up in front of my men?
     
    His voice in her mind took on a husky tone. Not that I don't appreciate your choice of nightwear.
     
    Glancing down at herself, Riley's cheeks burned. She wore only an old and worn green tank top—that had Smart Girls Rock traced on it in faded gold thread—over a pair of lacy underwear.
     
    A rather teensy pair of underwear.
     
    Face flaming, she backed away from the window, uncertain of whether to be afraid, embarrassed, or excited that he was real.
     
    Real and standing outside of her house.
     
    She settled on a combination of all three, her breathing suddenly shallow and fast. But she'd seen inside his heart, his memories, even his soul, somehow, and there had been honor and integrity—no hint of serial-killer tendencies.
     
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    Well, if she wasn't going with Option A: Figment of Her Imagination. Damn, this was confusing.
     
    Either way, she had some questions for him. She was a social worker, for Pete's sake.
    She put herself in danger as a matter of course. And she'd been inside this man's mind.
    She knew he had no intention to hurt her. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she knew.
     
    As she dragged on a pair of jeans, she laughed without much humor. "Danger is my middle name."
     
    The voice sounded in her mind, amused again. Glad she could provide so much entertainment for him.
     
    She could literally feel his laughter curling inside her as he spoke. Or sent her thought waves. Or whatever.
     
    Really? I would have guessed Trouble.
     
    She grinned before she realized she was doing it. Her first smile in a long time. "You'd better be prepared for trouble, Conlan, if you can't give me a good explanation for what you're doing in my front yard."
     
    The smile faded from her face. Great, there was an Option C. He was some kind of freakish stalker. Like she hadn't had enough to deal with, for one night.
     
    For one lifetime.
     
    But she wasn't a coward. Or stupid, either. Riley yanked a sweatshirt over her head then grabbed a phone, the better to dial a quick 911 with. Then she ran down the stairs and peered through the peephole. Yes, he was still there. Conlan and some men who were clearly also from the Land of Hunks.
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    Taking a deep breath, she pulled open her front door. And that's when all hell broke loose.
     
    Vampires. It was raining materializing vampires.
     
    She'd seen them before, sure, everybody had. Not just on CNN either. She'd seen them up close and personal, prowling the alleys and the backways of the city. Looking for victims who were all too willing, dangling the elusive promise of immortality, luring the young, the weak, the hopeless.
     
    But she'd never seen a full two dozen of them, swooping down from the air, arrowing in on the tiny patch of lawn in front of her house.
     
    The same lawn where Conlan stood with his men.
     
    She snapped out of her shock; shouted a warning. "Watch out, Conlan! Vampires!"
     
    But he and his men were already looking up, unsheathing daggers of some sort. The blades flashed like copper fused with diamonds, beautiful and deadly.
     
    Sort of like the man himself.
     
    Riley, get back! Conlan thundered in her mind. Close that damn door and hide.
     
    But she stood there, frozen, the phone forgotten in her hand. The silence was surreal—battle scenes in the movies were always full of clashing armor and shouting.
     
    The battle scene before her was all the more terrifying because of the near cessation of sound.
     
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    The largest of the vamps landed in front of Conlan, sword drawn. Conlan crossed his daggers to block the blow, then sliced down viciously, striking the vamp's left arm. With an upswing, he drove his dagger into the attacker's