Warriors of Poseidon 02 - Atlantis Awakening

evocative of an ancient power that only the eldest of the Fae describe."
     
    "That would make sense then, since the Atlantean race seems to be as old as that of the Fae."
     
    Gennae nodded, then reached out to touch Erin's hand. "I am afraid I must tell you that we have had bad news upon bad news tonight, Erin. Attacks occurred in several parts of the city simultaneously with the attack upon you. Several witches are dead, and others captured. One entire squad of the new paranormal ops unit was murdered; all five members were left hanging, eviscerated, off the roof of the Seattle Police Department."
     
    Erin shuddered at the image. "Caligula? It had to be him, Gennae, and you must see why we need to destroy that monster."
     
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    For once, the older witch did not disagree. "There's more. For me, personally, the worst news of all—" Her voice broke, and she bowed her head. Erin saw the tears fall onto Gennae's clenched hands.
     
    "What is it?" She looked around again, suddenly realizing who was missing. "Berenice and Lillian! Where are they?"
     
    Gennae's shoulders shook with the force of her suppressed sobs. "They are gone.
    Missing or possibly dead. What's worse—much, much worse—is that one of them may have betrayed us."

Chapter 18
    Alaric watched Quinn sleep. Even while she was asleep, incapable of conscious thought, the force of her emotions swirled around him in an aura of deep blue, wine red, and misty gray. Some had named him the most powerful high priest ever anointed by Poseidon. Yet as he stood there and stared down at the fragile human female, he knew she had the power to destroy him.
     
    He lingered, greedy for a few more stolen moments in her presence. Not knowing how she'd somehow climbed inside his soul. Not knowing why.
     
    Not caring.
     
    Only certain, with the knowledge born of dark and implacable hungers, that he wanted her—her touch, her mind, her soul—more than he'd ever wanted anything before.
     
    Also certain that his duty and his destiny forbade it.
     
    But duty surely wouldn't deny him a single taste of her lips. He bent down silently, but as he came near, her eyes opened.
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    "Alaric. We have to stop meeting like this," she said, her lush, soft, kissable lips curving in a smile. Somehow, he couldn't take his eyes off her mouth. Even a priest of Poseidon, sworn to celibacy, could fantasize about her mouth.
     
    She licked her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, and a bolt of lust slammed through him. He staggered back a step on knees suddenly gone weak.
     
    Quinn sat up on the narrow bed, and her gaze darted around the small room the witches had given him for her. "Are you all right? Your face is a shade of gray that can't be healthy. What happened? Where are my people?"
     
    He held up a hand to stop the flow of questions and sank down into the single chair in the room. "A moment, please. It appears that my strength is not what I might wish it to be."
     
    A shocked awareness dawned in her eyes. "The attack. That vampire—he stabbed me—I should be dead."
     
    She swung her legs down off the side of the bed and braced herself with her hands staring at him. "The last thing I remember was feeling like I was drowning in my own lungs, and then either I passed out or the sky exploded. And why do I have a strong feeling that you had something to do with that?"
     
    He stared at her and wondered how he ever could have mocked the poets. Clearly it was possible to drown in a woman's eyes. Or at least to wish to be trapped inside her for all eternity.
     
    But thoughts of being inside Quinn led to dark and impossible longings to strip her bare and plunge inside her right there on the bed where he'd finished healing her. To drive so far into her that she would never let him go.
     
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    Never want to let him go.
     
    Impossible longings.
     
    "Alaric?" Her breath caught on his name, as if she had seen his fantasies, or read the hidden corners of his mind. She was aknasha, and perhaps he was not shielding enough.
     
    As he stared at her, still unable to speak, the temptation flashed through him. Just to let go, to drop his shields. To let her fully inside his barren soul, only for a few moments.
    Only long enough to see if she could discover any trace of the humanity that centuries of serving as