Warriors of Poseidon 04 - Atlantis Unmasked

knees for hours praying to Poseidon to let me return the favor.
    Let him take me and spare her and the baby.”
     
    Alexios was a little taken aback at the depth of anguish in the warrior‟s voice, though on reflection Denal had been smitten with Riley from the first. Had declared himself her Atlantis Unmasked - Warriors of Poseidon 04
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    champion and protector, and had built up a big case of puppy love, even trying to defend her from Conlan, her chosen mate, over a misunderstanding. But after the vampire attack where he and Brennan had actually died, and Riley had traded her life to Poseidon for theirs . . . well, something in Denal had broken. Some spark of the youth and joy that made them all think of him as an overgrown youngling, though he was man and warrior enough to be part of the Seven, well, that spark had slowly turned to ash and died. Over the course of the past several months, Denal had changed. Become quieter. Less exuberant.
     
    Less . . . Denal.
     
    So maybe Alexios shouldn‟t have been surprised at the vehemence of Denal‟s pain at all.
     
    Alexios started to speak, to offer some comfort, but Denal lurched up off the floor and grabbed his arms in a death grip, digging with bruising force into his flesh. “Why won‟t he take me? Alexios, why won‟t he take me?”
     
    Alexios shook his head, unable to offer false comfort. “They are gods, Denal. They are gods, and they choose as they will. There is nothing we can do to affect their decisions.”
     
    Something dark and deadly gleamed in the back of Denal‟s eyes. “Nothing? I think you‟re wrong.” He leaned forward as if to embrace Alexios and then, before Alexios could stop him, Denal snatched the daggers out of Alexios‟s sheaths and jumped back.
     
    “If Poseidon won‟t take me, then I‟ll give myself to him,” Denal shouted.
     
    Alexios leapt forward, reaching for the blades, but he was too late. Denal plunged both daggers into his own abdomen and screamed loud and long as he fell back to his knees in a grotesque parody of his earlier position, blood streaming down his shirt.
     
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    “Two blades for two lives, Poseidon,” he cried out. “It‟s all I have to give. Let it be enough, or I will battle you through all the levels of the nine hells.”
     
    Somewhere behind him, Alexios dimly heard Keely screaming. Justice shouting. Even Brennan, calling out for help. But none of it penetrated. None of it mattered. The warrior Alexios had once mentored for half a century had just killed himself in front of his eyes, and Alexios had done nothing. He‟d failed him. Like he‟d failed Prince Conlan, when Anubisa came for him. Like he failed everyone.
     
    Lost in soul-deep anguish beyond the bearing of it, Alexios threw back his head and roared out his pain and denial.
     
    “Not what I expected to find,” a dry, calm voice said over his shoulder. “Bleeding, shouting, and self-inflicted evisceration. What is it about you warriors?”
     
    “Alaric, damn you,” Alexios choked out. “You‟re Poseidon‟s high priest, so act like it .
    Heal him. Now. ”
     
    Alaric knelt beside Alexios and flicked a sardonic glance his way. “Should I invalidate such a noble sacrifice? Even though Riley and the baby are now doing much better, and the First Maiden told us five minutes ago that a healthy birth is imminent? Perhaps Poseidon would not approve.”
     
    “If you don‟t heal him in the next five seconds, my daggers are going to be digging a hole in your belly,” Alexios gritted out, knowing the priest was toying with him but not understanding how Alaric could do such a thing while Denal lay dying on the floor in front of them.
     
    Certainly Alaric had grown darker and more silent of late. All of them had noticed it. But to actually let the warrior die when he could help . . . Alexios could not believe it of the priest who‟d healed them all, so many times.
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    Alaric turned his dark gaze to Denal, his face hardening at the grim sight of the warrior sprawled gracelessly in a pool of his own spreading blood. “He‟s very nearly gone. Get out of my way.”
     
    Alexios scrambled backward to give the priest room to work. Alaric called power so swiftly and strongly that Alexios‟s skin tried to crawl off his bones as the powerful rush of magical energy filled the room. Alaric‟s hands glowed