Warriors of Poseidon 02 - Atlantis Awakening

his chest intrigued her, even though she wasn't much for tattoos. A circle and a triangle with some sort of symbol crossing them both.
     
    She yanked her gaze up to his face, blushing a little, but quit worrying about what he thought of her ogling when she saw his face and the sleepy concern in his eyes. The opals on her fingers glowed and sang to her, but she closed her mind against their call.
    Not today. She had no time for this weird gem singing stuff today.
     
    "You look like I feel—total death warmed over, with a side of misery," she blurted out.
     
    He blinked at her, but then he caught sight of what she held and seemed to wake up a little. "Gee, thanks. Hey, you brought coffee? You are an angel."
     
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    She smiled at the expression of pure longing on his face. "No, I'm a witch, but thanks for the compliment. Are you going to invite me inside, or are we going to have breakfast on your doorstep?"
     
    He hastily backed up, holding the door for her. "Sorry. I'm kind of wiped. Only slept an hour. Is there food in that bag?"
     
    He took the tray of four quad venti lattes from her, bent his head over the cups and inhaled deeply as he kicked the door closed with one large, bare foot. "Bliss."
     
    "I hope you like lattes. I didn't know if they'd be too girly for a big tough Atlantean warrior to drink, but if so, that's more for me," she said, nerves swirling in her empty stomach.
     
    She should have eaten one of the pastries on the way over to help mitigate the gallon or six of stomach acid sloshing around in there.
     
    "I brought an assortment of pastries, too," she said, looking around the huge entranceway. The skylights on the ceiling filtered the weak winter sunlight down to them. Farther ahead, the building was divided into floors in a bizarrely open architectural style. Industrial-style metal partitions, walls, and doorways lined the hall.
     
    "I'm secure enough in my manhood to drink froufrou coffee drinks," he said, grinning at her. "Come on."
     
    He led the way down the hallway and she focused really, really hard on not noticing what an amazingly muscled back he had. Or that the amazing back curved down into a truly fabulous backside.
     
    She scowled, suddenly disgusted at herself for noticing how gorgeous and muscled Ven was when she had a job to do. More of a sacred quest, now, really.
     
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    She idly glanced into a couple of open doorways as they walked by. Through one of them she caught glimpses of intriguing metal statuaries. Through another she saw what looked to be an extensive luxury car collection, and an almost painful twist of warmth tightened in her chest. "Wait," she called out. "Was that—"
     
    She backtracked to the open doorway and looked inside. A giant room, evidently used as a garage, held probably twenty classic cars and a few very modern, very sleek, sports cars. She spotted the black Jaguar he'd driven the night before by the garage door, but then got distracted by a gorgeous cherry red roadster. Dropping the sack of pastries on the concrete floor, she wiped her hands on her jeans and walked over to the beauty. As she touched the hood with reverence, she glanced back at Ven, who stood in the doorway. "Ohhhhh. You own a Duesenberg?"
     
    He followed her into the room, placing the tray of coffee on a small table near the door.
    "Yep. A 1929 Duesenberg J 350 Willoughby, manufactured here in the U.S. in the—"
     
    "The Indiana plant, yeah, I know," she murmured, her hand caressing the smooth curve of the hood. "My dad was born and raised in Indianapolis. He moved out here and met my mother and never moved back. He loved these old cars and took me to a lot of car shows when I was little."
     
    "They still live around here?" Ven asked.
     
    The iron fist squeezing her heart clenched down even further. "No. No, he died nearly nine years ago. After the… tragedy… he couldn't find the strength or will to keep living. I think he made up his mind to die, and he did." She tried to blink back the tears burning at the edges of her eyes, but a few escaped and slid down her cheeks.
     
    Ven raised one finger and caught her tear as it fell, but never touched her skin. "You give honor to your father with your tears, Erin. I am so sorry for your loss. May Poseidon Atlantis Awakening – Warriors of Poseidon 02
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    and the gods and goddesses of your