Warriors of Poseidon 02 - Atlantis Awakening

sunrise of melodies, a concerto sung by angels and Nereids rang, floated, spiraled through the room and through both of them, and the force of it slammed Ven back against the pillows, still clasping Erin in his arms, satiation giving way to another wave of impossibly powerful, driving hunger.
     
    But suddenly the splendor and power of the music blasted through his mental shields and maybe through hers, too, because he looked into her eyes and saw the depths of her soul.
     
    Saw the murder of her family—she'd been there. She'd seen it all, tried to help, tried to stop it, been beaten and stabbed, Caligula and his minions had left her for dead.
     
    The whole thing played out in his head like a violent movie, complete with a soundtrack from the lowest of the nine hells. Her mother and sisters sobbing and shrieking as they'd died.
     
    Erin had dragged herself to the coven, wounded, nearly dead, and demanded that they train her, though she was only sixteen years old.
     
    He saw her strength, her loneliness, her despair. Her driving need to avenge her family.
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    He saw himself, and her wonder at feeling such a tangible, powerful connection to a man she'd only just met.
     
    He saw her soul, and he fell over the precipice into the abyss. Strong, fearless warrior that he was, Ven was suddenly more terrified than he had ever been in the half millennium of his existence, because he realized that if he'd seen into her soul, shining with her courage and light, it was highly likely that she'd seen into the black and twisted corners of his. He closed his eyes as a blade sharper than any dagger ever honed twisted in his gut.
     
    Game over.
     
    There was no freaking way that she'd want him now.
     
    Erin stirred beside him, and he resisted the urge to open his eyes, afraid that she was climbing out of bed to run as far and as fast as she could. Straight away from him. Not that he could blame her if she did. If he didn't see her leave, maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.
     
    "Ven. Ven, I know you're awake. Look at me."
     
    He felt her touch on the side of his face, soft and gentle. His eyes snapped open, but he didn't speak. Couldn't speak.
     
    Her eyes were huge, enormous, a drowning blue. He thought he could fall into the depths of them and never climb out. But he still couldn't talk.
     
    "I saw inside you, Ven," she said, her voice breaking a little. "I saw the horrible things you've been forced to do. Awful things, for so very long. Dancing with death over and over to protect your family, to protect your fellow warriors. Most of all, to protect humanity."
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    The tears spilled past her lashes and rolled down her face. "Oh, Veil, your mother…
    your parents. I am so sorry."
     
    He tried to push the words past the aching in his throat. Tried to come up with a defense that would make her see past the monster he'd had to be to the man he could become.
     
    Tried to let her know he would never fail to protect her as he'd failed to protect his mother. As he'd failed to protect Conlan.
     
    Tried to find the words that would make her want to stay.
     
    But before he could find any words at all, she curled up against his chest, pulling the bedcovers up over them both. "I'm here now," she whispered. "Let go of some of the pain and let me hold you."
     
    He tightened his arms around her in a wordless prayer of relief. She was nothing that he'd ever wanted—human, gem singer, and witch.
     
    She was everything he'd ever needed.
     
    For a very long time—long after she'd fallen asleep, exhausted from the day and from their lovemaking—he simply held her and watched her sleep.

Chapter 13
    Atlantis, the palace
     
    Ven opened his eyes, going from sound asleep to fully alert in the span of a split second, instinctively reaching for his weapons and finding his arms full of warm, soft woman instead.
     
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    "So, you're finally awake, sleepy head," Erin murmured. "Tell me about this symbol on your chest." She traced the symbol of his oath to Poseidon, high on the left side of his chest, with one finger. He caught her hand, brought it to his mouth, and gently kissed her palm. If she didn't want to talk about what had happened, he would give her time to process it. It's not like he'd been prepared to reach the soul-meld with a woman he'd only known