Warriors of Poseidon 04 - Atlantis Unmasked

conversations of the rebels like an electric eel through algae. Somehow, after he discreetly adjusted the fit of his pants for the hundredth time in three days and turned around, she was suddenly only a few paces behind him. The late afternoon sunlight shone on the deep red highlights in her rich dark brown hair, almost mesmerizing him for a moment.
     
    Then she had to go and ruin it.
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    “Alexios, we need to talk.”
     
    He scowled, every muscle in his body tightening in reaction to the musical sound of her voice. He didn‟t want to talk to Grace. He wanted to take her up on the amused speculation in her whiskey-dark eyes. He wanted to unstrap the knives from her thighs, the guns from her hips, and the bow and its quiver of deadly silver-tipped arrows from her back, strip her bare, and put his mouth on every inch of her honeyed skin.
     
    All of it decidedly without talking.
     
    Too bad it would be a cold day in the nine hells before he‟d ever tell her that.
     
    Or would it? By Poseidon‟s balls, his mind was getting a cramp from constantly changing.
     
    “Alexios?” She planted her fists on those lovely curved hips and his mouth went dry, fantasies of what her curves would look like naked conveniently overriding reality. The reality where she stood there, either amused or annoyed or a little of both, her luscious lips pressed tight and her dark brows drawing together in what he‟d come to think of as her “time to make Alexios‟s life a living misery” expression.
     
    If it weren‟t for centuries of loyalty to his high prince, Alexios would be on a fast portal back to Atlantis. Unfortunately, his present mission was clear: help train this faction of the rebels and find out anything he could about what Vonos had done with the Vampire‟s Bane.
     
    He‟d been having damned little success learning anything about Vonos or the jewel, though, since Grace had scheduled every minute of every day for him and he was finding it impossible to tell her no.
     
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    Grace stalked up to him, the only human in the entire fort who wasn‟t the slightest bit intimidated by him. She was all long, lean lines, but with rounded curves exactly where a woman ought to be rounded, and just watching her walk made his mouth go dry.
     
    “Third time‟s a charm, my friend. Earth to Atlantean?”
     
    He folded his arms across his chest and glared down at her. Ancient vampires and alpha shape-shifters alike had quailed before the force of that glare.
     
    Grace glared right back and then, unexpectedly, flashed a grin. “Yeah, yeah, you‟re scary. I‟m quivering in my boots. Now can we talk?”
     
    “I‟d like to see you quivering,” he growled, then closed his eyes in disbelief as the unintended double entendre struck him. Sex. He had sex on the brain, and it was turning him into a babbling idiot. Of course she‟d instantly pick up on it.
     
    Sure enough, she started laughing, and the husky sound of her chuckle tightened something deep in his belly. Only sheer force of will kept his cock from jumping to attention. By all the gods, if he didn‟t get away from this woman soon, he was going to break every one of the sacred vows he‟d made during the rites of purification. Joyfully.
     
    “Honey, you can see me quivering anytime. Just let me know. Sex is a healthy physical outlet for two consenting adults,” she said, the amusement clear in her voice. “Or we could spar, or play tennis, which usually works far better for alleviating tension.”
     
    His eyelids shot open. “Alleviating tension? Are you kidding me?”
     
    She shrugged. “In my experience, there‟s not much to recommend one over the other.
    Although at least sparring is useful. Now if we‟re done with the small talk, we need to discuss strategy. Also, some of the men would like to know if you‟ll spar against them.
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    None of them have anywhere near your experience or talent with hand-to-hand fighting, and for close quarters it‟s essential.”
     
    His mind was still back on what she‟d said. Tennis and sex. Not much to recommend one over the other. If he had her alone for a single hour, he‟d show her . . . He clenched his jaw against the sensual images flooding his brain.
     
    “Right. Sparring. Now,” he gritted out, stripping out of his jacket and shirt as