Warriors of Poseidon 04 - Atlantis Unmasked

drums, if only—but it hurt you. So sorry.”
     
    His broken speech touched her in a way that any chest-thumping never would have done. But it simply wasn‟t there, the arrogance or triumph she might‟ve expected had he been the monster she‟d been near to thinking him. Her adrenaline-driven terror had drained away, and she saw him, really saw him in the moonlight. Clearly, with all of her senses fully charged.
     
    He was a man, and he‟d called her his woman. Defending her from the panther who‟d been poised to attack her didn‟t make Alexios a monster. It didn‟t make him a hero, either, on a pedestal and unattainable.
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    It simply made him a man who wanted to protect his woman. Even though she wasn‟t the type to need protecting—in fact, was usually the one doing the protecting—she understood. Accepted. Something inside her, something cold and hard that had huddled alone in the dark for far too long, unfurled a tiny, cautious tendril of warmth.
     
    Holding her wounded side with one hand, she held the other out to him. His eyes changed, widened a little, as if he‟d been afraid to hope. But then he came to her and carefully pulled her into his arms, as though she were fragile and he were afraid that she might break with rough handling. He bent his forehead to hers and just rested there for a moment, leaning into her, and she felt an awakening. Finally, perhaps, that metamorphosis.
     
    As though she‟d finally come home.
     
    Sam cleared his throat. “Let‟s get our friend here down to one of the cells and locked up. We‟ve got two dead, Grace.”
     
    “No!” The words sliced into her as if digging a dull blade into her wounded side. “No, oh, God. No. Who?”
     
    “That young guy from Texas, they called him Armadillo?”
     
    “Reynolds,” she said automatically, though she hadn‟t had time to know him well. What she did know of him sent pain shooting through her at the realization that she‟d never again hear his Texas-is-bigger jokes; never again share a smile with the friendly, kind man who‟d been so dedicated to the cause.
     
    But Sam had said two dead. “And the other?”
     
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    “Smith,” he said, his face going dark and hard. “Alexios took care of the one who got her, but it was too late. She . . . well, it was quick, if that‟s any comfort.”
     
    Grace‟s lungs suddenly couldn‟t expand. Not Smith. Though it was stupid and ridiculous and Smith‟s death was in no way about Grace, she couldn‟t help but remember her last, unkind thoughts about the woman. Just because Smith had been friendly to Alexios.
     
    “She was so young,” she cried out, the hot, burning tears sliding down her face. “She couldn‟t have been more than twenty-five.”
     
    Sam cocked his head to the side and stared at her with a curious expression on his face. “Honey,” he finally said, his voice gentle. “So are you.”
     
    She couldn‟t respond, couldn‟t explain. Could only stand there mutely shaking her head back and forth in denial and sorrow.
     
    Sam took a step toward her, but then appeared to think better of it. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Michelle and I are going to take the injured to see a doctor friend of mine. Just so happens I know a retired army doc who has a little place not too far from here. He said give them a call anytime I need them, so I took him up on it. He and his wife are expecting us. She‟s some kind of big deal in Florida politics, and I know for a fact they‟ve been to the house of that Vonos son of a bitch. Maybe I can get a little information while our friends are getting patched up.”
     
    Grace nodded, trying desperately to think. To focus on what still needed to be done.
    “He‟s still unconscious,” she said, gesturing toward the fallen panther. “We‟re going to have to carry him.”
     
    “I‟ll do it,” Alexios said. “It‟s the least I can do.” He bent down and scooped the injured man, now fully human, up off the ground.
     
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    Sam stopped him with a hand on his arm and a look. “It doesn‟t have to be only you, son. We may not be from Atlantis, but we do the best we can, and we‟re on your side.”
     
    Alexios stopped, and a trace of a smile crossed his face, perhaps at being called “son”
    by a man centuries younger than he.