Warriors of Poseidon 03 - Atlantis Unleashed

And have you ever considered cosmetic surgery?”
    Alexios‟s eyes iced over as he regretted, once again, the fact that he couldn‟t just stab humans who had balls bigger than their brains. “Your concern is misplaced, Doctor, although I thank you for it,” he gritted out, trying not to choke on the words.
    Grace turned toward him and rested her head on his chest. It was the first sign of weakness she‟d ever shown in his presence, and a wave of fierce protectiveness washed through him.
    “I need some air,” she murmured. “Please, Alexios, please help me. Get me out of here.”
    Alexios tightened his arms around her and nodded to the doctor. “Thank you again. We‟ll wait for any news, as I said.”
    Losing all interest in Alexios, the doctor started to move off, but then stopped, a trace of sympathy crossing his face. “She‟s going to be in the ICU for quite some time. You two should go get cleaned up and get some rest.”
    Nodding again, but not bothering to reply, Alexios steered Grace toward the exit. The doors opened with a hydraulic swishing noise, and the three men outside turned toward them, hands automatically reaching inside jackets. They relaxed slightly when they saw it was Alexios and Grace.
    “All clear out here,” said the stocky one who‟d moved the Jeep for them. Spike, maybe. Or Butch. One of the odd names-that-weren‟t-names that the rebels used. “Any news?”
    Grace shook her head, but didn‟t speak. Fine tremors shook through her body, and Alexios knew the meltdown was finally on its way.
    “Almost everyone is doing well, as you said,” Alexios reported tersely. “Michelle was in surgery a long time, though, and the doctor said she lost a lot of blood. He said she‟ll make it, if she‟s a fighter, and we all know that she is.”
    He addressed the words to the man, but they were meant for Grace. She drew in a shuddering breath, and he knew at least part of the meaning had penetrated.
    “She‟s going to make it,” he repeated. “But Grace needs some air. We‟re going to walk a little bit. You‟re sure the way is clear?”
    The taller man, older, with leathery skin and a hawk-like nose, nodded. “We‟re good. We were sure with dark coming on that the vamps would start showing up, but we ain‟t seen hide nor hair of ‟em. The boys are patrolling all the way around the hospital for the shifters, too.”
    Alexios nodded. “We won‟t go far.”
    He herded Grace down the sidewalk and away from the lights and sounds of the ER. She walked with a jerking, halting gait, like a marionette dancing on the strings of a drunken puppet master. When they reached a low stone wall, partially hidden by some bushes, he guided her to it. Then he sat next to her, his arms around her, and held her while she wept.
    The sound of her sobbing—muffled because she tried to hide it from him—and the feel of her warmth as her body trembled in his arms overwhelmed the careful, rock-solid defenses Alexios had carefully constructed over the past several years. He inhaled deeply, trying for control, but failing miserably when the scent of sunshine and flowers from her hair shuddered through his senses.
    She was tough, a warrior woman. She never showed weakness to anyone—ever. And yet here she was, crying in his arms. Needing him to comfort her. The fierce drive to protect and cherish surged through him, and a tsunami of unexpected and unwanted emotion crashed through the barriers around his heart like a tidal wave through a fragile coral reef.
    She turned her tear-drenched face up to his when his body shuddered against hers. “Alexios?”
    There was only one choice he could make. Only one recourse open to him. He needed to taste her lips more than he had ever needed food or water or even air to breathe.
    He kissed her.
    He kissed her, and she gasped a little against his mouth, but then she was kissing him back.
    She was kissing him back. She twined her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her and opened her mouth to his invasion, welcoming and enticing him.
    Seducing him with her lips and warmth.
    He groaned, or perhaps she did, but either way the sound was swallowed up in the heat between them, and he was tilting her head better to devour her, and kissing her and wanting her and needing her . . .
    The red flashing light of an emergency vehicle splashed on the side of the building, at the farthest edge of his peripheral vision. A vision but not a vision. A memory but not a