Warriors of Poseidon 02 - Atlantis Awakening

ancestors watch over him on his journey into the light."
     
    She wiped her eyes with her hand, trying desperately to silence the emerald song that had blazed out of her rings at his almost-touch. She had never once heard the emeralds sing to her since the day of her Choosing, and now they were a Broadway chorus.
    Nonstop music whenever Ven was around.
     
    She looked up into his dark, dark eyes, afraid of what she might see. The fascinating blue-green light that had so disturbed him the night before was gone, and she was relieved. A tiny part of her whispered in her mind,Or disappointed.
     
    She shut down the tiny voice and the emeralds through sheer force of will and concentrated on what Ven had said about her father. "That's beautiful, thank you. Is that a traditional Atlantean saying?"
     
    He bowed to her, the gesture somehow not lessened by the fact that the man offering it was standing shirtless in blue jeans, clearly fresh out of the shower. Ven's natural gallantry was like something she'd seen in the old movies she loved so much.
    Something about him…
     
    "Are you very old?" she blurted out.
     
    Straightening, he grinned, then raised an eyebrow. "That depends. Do you like older men?"
     
    She rolled her eyes. "Nice. Always with the lines, right? You must have women falling all over you."
     
    He abruptly turned away from her, saying something under his breath that she didn't catch.
    Atlantis Awakening – Warriors of Poseidon 02
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    "What was that?"
     
    "Coffee. I said coffee now, talking later."
     
    Filing away his odd reaction to be considered at another time, Erin retrieved the bag of pastries and followed him out of the room, casting a last look at the Duesy on the way.
     
    I'll get him for you, Dad. For all of us. And I'll save Deirdre, too.
     
    Ven gritted his teeth over the highly freaking inappropriate sensations sweeping through every inch of him. The second he'd reached out to touch the tear falling off her cheek, he'd known he should pull his finger back. But, somehow, he hadn't been able to do it.
    Now he battled the urge to touch that same slightly damp finger to his lips, but clenched his hand more tightly around the edge of the coffee tray instead.
     
    Control. Command. Confidence. His watchwords for nearly half a millennium; suddenly in peril from the mere sight of one small human female sorrowing over her lost father.
     
    How did she manage to look so damned sexy in blue jeans, boots, and a sweater, anyway? It was even a thick, bulky sweater that hid the curves he'd seen on display in that silky thing she'd worn the night before. But the pale blue of the wool and the sunlit-sky blue of her eyes—all that blond hair, even tied back in a pony tail—oh. Hells. He was in big trouble.
     
    Just agreeing to let Alexios and Denal shadow her on her short trip here this morning, instead of going himself, had nearly caused him to growl like a wounded bear at the emotionless warrior and the youngling. They'd been right. He'd needed at least an hour of sleep. But logic didn't resonate with his fierce and growing need to protect Erin.
     
    To protect her personally. Hells, maybe coffee would help.
     
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    He finally reached the restaurant-sized kitchen at the end of the hall and blew out a sigh of relief. Safety in numbers. Ignoring the curious looks from the three warriors who waited there to meet Erin, he strode over to the red formica-topped table in the center of the room and put the tray of coffee down with more force than necessary. The sloshing coffee splashed up through the drink spouts on the cups and splattered on the table, bringing dark metaphors to Ven's mind of his control splattering up against the charms of one gem singer of a witch.
     
    Yeah, so I suck at metaphors.
     
    "Ven?" Erin's voice came from the doorway, where she'd stopped and stood, frozen, staring at Denal, Justice, and Alexios.
     
    "Come in, Erin, I need to introduce you to the Three Stooges here. Larry, Moe, and Curly," he said, grabbing his shirt from the back of a chair and shrugging into it. Then he took one of the cups out of the holder, wiped the side with a napkin, and took a healthy gulp.
     
    "Who?" said Denal, looking confused. Hells, confused was Denal's default expression, especially when it came to pop culture. He really ought to give the kid a break.
     
    "Three letters for you, Denal. D. V. D. It's never too late for an