Warriors of Poseidon 01.5 - Wild Hearts in Atlantis

understanding" between their two cultures. What better way to do that than by hiking a dozen-mile roundtrip path through humid swamp country? Yeah, so irony wasn't his strong suit, no more than diplomacy.
     
    Yet as he gazed at the curved backs of Kat's endless legs, he realized he could think of quite a few better ways to build bridges.
     
    "Tell you what?" she called back, not looking at him. She wore her uniform and her official status like a shield against him today, and he'd seen no trace at all of the breathless woman who'd run from him the night before. Instead, he'd heard commanding intelligence in her telephone conversations with various members of her ranger force and the local paranormal ops unit.
     
    From the way her phone had rung incessantly, and the side of the conversations he'd overheard, both groups respected her insights and her authority. He'd seen the deference in the actions of the zoological staff who had come to transport the cubs to a secure facility for care and raising. She'd said good-bye to them with sadness, and in her kindness and play with the cubs he'd seen a flash of the mother she would one day become.
     
    The knowledge of her bearing another man's child sent a stabbing pain through him that he refused to contemplate.
     
    This hike was an attempt to investigate a vague report of trouble in the area that had been filed the night before, before their scheduled meeting with Ethan, the panther pride's alpha.
    Wild Hearts In Atlantis – Warriors of Poseidon 1.5
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    But he was still curious. "Tell me about your gift."
     
    She stopped, finally turning to face him. "What are you talking about?" Honest confusion clouded her eyes, and she put her hands on her hips. Six miles of walking, and she wasn't even winded. She had warrior spirit in her, his woman.
     
    The woman. Not his woman. The woman. Dammit.
     
    "Your gift. The ability to calm aggression. Is this a shapeshifter ability that has been kept secret before?"
     
    She blinked, then laughed bitterly. "Gift? Right. You mean curse. The lovely ability I have to calm hostility and aggression in everyone, including myself. The gift that keeps me from ever becoming a true shapeshifter."
     
    Somehow, he felt the fury radiating from her. He saw the evidencethe clenched jaw, the narrowed eyes, the hands fisted on her hips. But he felt the rage and pain, somehow inside himself. Impossible. But true. He tried to form a coherent question. "How does it—"
     
    She cut him off. "How do you think we get in touch with our animal sides? We tap our animal instincts. A panther is a true predator. I can't reach the predatory side of myself, dual-natured or not, when my gift automatically switches on to calm any aggression anywhere around me."
     
    Kat pulled her hat off, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "That includes, in case you were wondering, any of my own aggression."
     
    He flinched at the anguish searing through him. Wondered how he could possibly feel her pain burning in his blood. "Kat, I—" But even as he formed the words, a blanket of calm muffled her emotions.
    Wild Hearts In Atlantis – Warriors of Poseidon 1.5
    Page 39 of 85
    She sliced her hand through the air, dismissive. "No. I didn't tell you because I want your pity. Just thought I should let our Atlantean liaison know that I'm a poor choice to be your counterpart. I'm a half-breed who will never truly be a panther. You'd be better off with somebody else."
     
    He reached out, couldn't help himself. Touched the curve of her cheek with his fingertips. "Quinn said you. You were the one. Prince Conlan agreed. And this is my first assignment as liaison, so perhaps we can figure this out together."
     
    She seemed to hold her breath, staring up at him. He could lose himself in her gaze.
    Sink into the warmth of her amazing mouth and spend the next hour or seven kissing her. Touching her. Plunging into her.
     
    Her face suddenly pinkened as though she could read his entirely unliaison like thoughts, and she took a jerky step back from him. "Well, um, okay. We—we've checked this path, and there's no sign of the trouble that—"
     
    Her head snapped up, and she lifted her face into the sluggish breeze, as if she were scenting the wind. "Do you smell that?" she whispered, the lines of her face gone hard, her eyes feral.
     
    He shook his head. "All I smell is swampland. What do you—" he broke off, Atlantean senses sharpening. His sense of smell may not