Warriors of Poseidon 05 - Atlantis Redeemed

this mission, and then you need never see me again,” he said, only mildly interested to note that the ice had slipped from his soul to settle in his voice, as well. “We should prepare to brief the prince and then return to Yellowstone, should we not?”
    Tears still streamed from her eyes, but her face hardened and she nodded once, sharply, and Atlantis Redeemed – Warriors of Poseidon 05
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    turned away from him, whispering something under her breath that he knew she had not wanted him to hear. Unfortunately for both of them, his hearing was superb, so every heartbreaking word imprinted itself on his heart.
    “I didn’t think it would be so easy for you to let me go,” she’d said, and though her back was to him, he could tell from the way her shoulders shook that she was crying. He wanted to go to her, but the ice was there to comfort him.
    To stop him from yet again risking her rebuff.
    After all, ice was a form of water, and he was Atlantean. Ice should come to his call; answer his need. And so it did.
    She cried, and he turned away.

Chapter 20
    Tiernan silently followed Brennan down the corridor to the room where she’d met with the princes—Conlan and Ven—the one other time she’d been to Atlantis. They had to report, he’d said. She hoped he planned to be the one doing the reporting, because she was caught in a bizarre haze of shock and regret that seemed to have put her brain on pause.
    The soul-meld, he’d called it. The name fit perfectly that sensation she’d had of very nearly losing herself inside of his memories. More than memories, really. The experiences that had made him who he was, over so many centuries that her all-too-human mind could barely comprehend the passage of time. It had been like flash-forward photography in a surrealistic film; colors and images and experiences had barraged her, swamped her, until she’d felt actual, physical pain.
    But the pain was nothing. She’d been hurt worse playing in the newspaper softball league. It was the future that had devastated her. The image of what Brennan’s future would be if they continued to care about each other. Brennan would suffer the most, and his hold on reality would shrink and diminish until he was lost in the madness of the curse.
    She’d seen it in front of her as if she’d already lived it: Brennan, waking up over and over and over, day after day after day, with a strange woman in his bed. Growing to love her but never remembering it for longer than the space of a day. In her visions of him, trapped inside his soul, he’d become nothing but a man-shaped whirlwind of rage and confusion. Even pushing her away, eventually. Rejecting her in order to save them both from yet another repeat of the “Who’s Tiernan?” game.
    That was bad enough, but she’d almost have been willing to take her chances with that. Risk a desperate future in hopes she could change it. He was worth the risk.
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    But their baby—oh, no. She would never risk that final scene becoming reality. She’d seen herself, resting in the same bed where they’d made love so wildly, holding a tiny, bundled baby in her arms. She’d looked tired but she was glowing with joy, and the baby had been so small. It had to have been a vision of herself just after giving birth.
    Her heart had turned over with so much love at the sight of her potential son or daughter, but then Brennan had entered the vision, bursting through the door from the hallway. He’d been flushed with excitement, and the Tiernan in the vision had smiled and held the baby up for him to see.
    Brennan had stopped dead, nearly skidding to a halt, and stared at Tiernan and the baby in his bed, his mouth slowly dropping open in shock. Then, finally, after such a very long time, he’d spoken.
    “Who are you, madam, and why are you and that child in my bed?”
    That had been all it took. She’d wrenched herself away from the vision Brennan and the real Brennan, although it took tremendous force of will to escape the waking nightmare. The soul-meld.
    She would risk a lot for a man like Brennan, but she would never, ever risk their child.
    He glanced back at her, that horrible icy sheen coating the dark green of his eyes, almost as if he’d picked up on her thoughts. Before she could think of anything at all to say, he turned away from her and sped up his pace. Trying to get away from her, probably. For a man who’d