Warriors of Poseidon 05 - Atlantis Redeemed

that wasn’t really meaningful. “I would ask that you keep that information to yourself, as the power infrastructure of the vampire ruling class prefers to adhere to the polite fiction that we were all born and raised aristocracy, if not royalty.”
    “Off the record?”
    He smiled down at her and Tiernan stumbled, shock knocking her off her rhythm. There had been real warmth in that smile. He caught her with his strong, cold hands and stopped until she caught her balance.
    “Are you well?”
    “Yes, fine, sorry. Stupid shoes,” she said lightly, holding out one foot for him to see. When he looked down at her foot and leg, and then his gaze slowly traveled back up her body, she had to catch her breath. This man—this vampire—was a deadly predator, who had probably been outwitting humans for centuries, if not longer.
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    She was maybe just the slightest bit out of her league.
    “You are very lovely, Tracy Baum,” he said, leaning closer and inhaling deeply. “Your scent is intoxicating, leading me to wonder if your blood might be the same. Perhaps it is time we concluded our dance, unless you would consent to accompany me to my home?”
    Thoughts of an inside scoop flashed through her mind, but she hadn’t lived as long as she had by climbing into the cage with hungry lions. “Thank you, but no. My date is at the bar, and I really should get back to him.”
    Devon glanced over in the direction of the bar. “Ah, yes. The reclusive and very rich Mr.
    Brennan. I am surprised he let you out of his grip for even a moment.”
    “He doesn’t control me, no matter how rich he might be. We’re just”—she paused, stumped for a term, and finally settled on the ordinary—“friends.”
    “Because men, no matter how powerful, no longer control their women, is that right? This conversation echoes another I have had recently, but of course when you have lived as many lives as I have, there is little of originality to be seen, done, or spoken.”
    She stopped and stepped out of his loose embrace, searching his face. “I’m sorry. That sounds like a terrible way to live. Are you never surprised?”
    He lifted a hand and touched her shoulder; it was almost a caress. “I am rarely surprised.
    Tonight, however, is the exception. I am very surprised by you. Please do say hello to Brennan for me.”
    Before she could think of a reply, he bowed, turned, and disappeared into the crowd. She stared after him for a minute, but then a pair of already-familiar arms encircled her waist from behind and she closed her eyes and leaned back against the warmth of Brennan’s muscular chest.
    “That was odd,” she said. “There is something so different about that vampire. I really want to investigate him further.”
    “I believe he feels the same way about you,” Brennan said, his voice harsh. “I am sorry, but I could not spend another moment watching you in his arms.”
    She turned around and gave him a quick hug, sensing how badly he needed the physical contact. “Dance with me. And then we need to talk.”
    Brennan finally relaxed as Tiernan moved gracefully into his arms. Though he knew the curse to be partially the cause, he could not help a bone-deep relief, as if part of his heart had returned to his body. They moved to the music as one; she easily followed his lead, and they were like partners who had danced through centuries together.
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    She fit. She was perfect for him in every way.
    The feeling was impossible and he knew better than to trust it. Love could not come so fast, though attraction and desire flew on swift wings. This was the curse prodding along the pace of what must have already lain dormant in his heart. One of many lessons pounded into the thick skulls of younglings during training was that no god or goddess, no love potion or spell, no sorcerer or even the most powerful witch could compel love. So indeed his feelings for her were genuine and would only grow deeper if he were to spend more time with her. The curse could not have recognized Tiernan as his true mate otherwise.
    How, though, could he ever deserve this woman when he—and, equally or more important, she—would always question the legitimacy of his feelings for her? He tightened his hold on her and she leaned her face against his chest, so that the uniquely lovely scent of her hair once again filled his