Warriors of Poseidon 05 - Atlantis Redeemed

sight of Tiernan sitting on the very bed he’d just dismissed. “What?”
    She dropped her second foot on the floor and shot him an exasperated look. “Dressed. You.
    Me. Turning our backs. Right?”
    “Dressed?”
    Tiernan sighed. “Okay. What’s going on in that scary Atlantean mind of yours?”
    He closed his eyes. There was no help for it. The only way to regain his power of speech was not to see the woman Poseidon himself had declared Brennan’s one true mate sitting on a bed.
    His bed. His woman.
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    He closed his eyes even tighter and started humming.
    “You’re freaking me out here, but—wait. Is this your plan? Okay, hold that position for two minutes.”
    He heard rustling noises, and the images his mind conjured of her removing her clothes were too much for him to bear. He dared to open his eyes just a small bit and was rewarded by an expanse of the smooth silky skin of Tiernan’s back as she pulled a froth of sparkly fabric the color of crushed rubies over her head. She smoothed the dress into place and turned around, catching him drinking in the sight of her.
    “You were supposed to close your eyes,” she said accusingly.
    He slowly shook his head. “You are beautiful beyond the dreams of the gods. I will never willingly miss any opportunity to see your body, clothed or bare.”
    He watched, fascinated, as a rosy flush swept up her cheeks. “It bothers you to hear that you are beautiful?”
    “No. Thank you for the compliment. But it bothers me that we’re supposed to be doing a job and we’re talking about bare bodies.” She folded her arms under her far-too-exposed breasts, which were barely covered by the silky fabric. “Get dressed or I’m going by myself.”
    “You will wear that? Into a room filled with men?” Instantly the unfamiliar rage and jealousy burned through him, and he wanted to put his fist through the wall. Or through someone’s face. Anyone who would dare to stare at her breasts or her impossibly long legs in that far-too-clinging dress.
    She narrowed her eyes. “I will wear whatever I want. And you have two minutes to get ready, or I’m gone.”
    Rummaging in her bag again, she pulled out a lipstick and then glanced up at him. “Still standing there? One minute, fifty-five seconds. You’d better believe I’m not kidding about this. Move, already.”
    He believed her. He moved.
    Lucas had arranged for the proper clothing, so he quickly changed into the tuxedo hanging in the closet, not daring to look back and see whether or not she was watching him. She had to help him with the unfamiliar tie, and he practiced breathing exercises while her delicate hands touched his neck. It was the only way he could keep from tossing her lovely ass on that inviting bed and spending the rest of the night learning the topography of every lush curve.
    “This is going to be a very long night,” he said, trying to hold his breath so as not to be further tortured by the delicate floral scent of her hair.
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    “You think?” She finished the tie and stood back to admire her handiwork. “So far, my day has been all leisure and bonbons. Shall we go to a party? Vampires, evil scientists, and probably enthralled shape-shifters. How bad could it be?”
    He laughed, but it came out sounding grim. “How bad, indeed?”
    Her smile faded. “You know, by now I should know better than to say things like that. It’s tempting fate.”
    Brennan just nodded. He knew far more than most about tempting fate, and none of it was good.
    A very, very long night.

Chapter 9
    Devon smoothed the lapels of his tuxedo jacket as he gazed around the hotel conference room, his expression giving away nothing of the distaste he felt for these self-interested scum. His eyes were covered by the wraparound dark glasses he preferred, which further hid his disgust.
    Many considered the oversized glasses to be merely affectation. He was glad to let them think it; better that than the truth. A disguise was less effective when known to be one.
    The five vampires who had fought for so long and argued so bitterly against any type of collaboration were the very same here to take full advantage now that the consortium was in effect.
    Schemers and users. Power-mad and weak both, a most unpleasant combination. Quick to change sides to grovel and flatter the more powerful; quicker to stake you in the