Warriors of Poseidon 01.5 - Wild Hearts in Atlantis

shapeshifter and vampire.
     
    A body came flying through the air, and Bastien held out one arm to block the human…
    yes, human, he didn't smell like shapeshifter, although it was hard to tell in this craziness. The man's shoulders struck Bastien's arm, and he bounced off and smashed into a table.
     
    "Bastien! Over here!" Bastien turned at the sound of Denal's shout and tried to be surprised to find that the youngest member of the Seven had gotten himself smack in the middle of the battle. Even as he watched, Denal punched one man in the eye, as yet another grabbed the young warrior around the throat.
     
    Denal grinned, lip bleeding. "Finally! A little fun!" he shouted.
     
    Bastien shook his head and moved in a blur of Atlantean speed to one side of the door, as he caught sight of a man pulling his arm back to throw a dagger in his direction. The door suddenly opened, and the woman who walked through drove all conscious thought out of his brain.
     
    Just the scent of her made him hard.
     
    Her eyes widened as she stared in front of her, and he remembered the dagger. Shot out a hand to catch it. Winced a little as the blade cut his palm, but never took his eyes off her.
     
    As she turned her shocked gaze to him, he bowed deeply. "Lady Katherine Fiero. I am Bastien of Atlantis at your service."
     
    Wild Hearts In Atlantis – Warriors of Poseidon 1.5
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    Kat stopped breathing the second she scented him. Her cat purred inside her, seemed almost to stretch and curl its form under Kat's skin, as though the beast wanted to come out and play after all these years of hiding.
     
    It was him. The giant of a man she'd met only once, briefly, nearly two years before. The one who'd protected her from a biker gang of vamps intent on making her the object of their bloodsport. He'd cut through them like a panther in its prime through a field of deer, then ignored her fervent thanks and walked away from her. He'd never looked back, striding off into the sunset like some fabled folk hero from childhood stories.
     
    And so he must be, this man she'd never forgotten. He must be the one from Atlantis.
    When Quinn had described him… she hadn't dared to even hope. But it was him.
    Bastien.
     
    And he was bowing to her. Bowing and… bleeding?
     
    She spared a moment to look around the bar. The human—shapeshifter violence that had been roiling in the air for the past several months had come to a head, yet again.
     
    This time, the fools were taking poor Thelma's place apart. It had to stop.
     
    Kat had to stop it.
     
    She looked at the man again—Quinn had said they called themselves Poseidon's Warriors. There could be no doubt to anyone with eyes that the man was a warrior. He had to be seven feet of pure battle-honed muscle. Nobody looked like that from working out at a gym once a week. He had thighs the size of tree trunks in that worn denim.
    And, oh please keep her from drooling, his chest and shoulders were a wall of muscle.
    God, his biceps were the size of her thighs, and she was no little thing. And his face—oh, his face. Men were not supposed to be so beautiful. It screwed up the natural order Wild Hearts In Atlantis – Warriors of Poseidon 1.5
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    of things or something. The cheekbones, and all that luscious black hair that was just a little too long, and…
     
    Great, Kat, you're having lustful fantasies while these men are beating each other up and trashing Thelma's bar. Do something, dammit.
     
    Kat's panther snarled inside her, making its desires plain.
     
    The beast wanted to play. It wanted to play wild and dangerous games with this warrior.
    The panther wasn't chained by the strictures of duty or etiquette. It wanted heat and biting and wild, ravenous sex.
     
    Kat felt the wetness between her thighs, and she flinched a little at the friction caused by her nipples hardening under her shirt. Her face flushed, and she tried, yet again, to focus on the battle raging all around her. She looked up at Bastien, drew in a raspy breath. Opened her mouth and closed it again.
     
    Fierce intelligence burned in his black eyes. Intelligence and something more primal.
    Was that… was that possibly desire?
     
    For her?
     
    Her knees weakened at the thought of it. The seconds that had passed while she stood there, frozen, seemed like hours.
     
    The bottle that crashed against the wall snapped her out of it.
     
    "Damn them. They know this place is Thelma's whole life. Excuse me, sir,