Warriors of Poseidon 06 - Atlantis Betrayed

charge of the room the way he’d done since she was small. “Have you forgotten the Charing Cross Children’s Books reading and signing?”
    She had. Somehow this infuriating criminal had driven all rational thought from her mind. Ask him to put his hands on her. The cheek of the man.
    “Of course not,” she lied. “The store owner has been lovely to me; she has nearly two hundred copies of The Forest Fairies already purchased and ready for me to sign.”
    “The what?” Christophe leaned against the wall, his powerful arms folded across that muscular chest, dangerous even at rest. “Did you say forest fairies?” He grinned and some no doubt evil thought lit up his eyes with amusement.
    Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
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    “Fiona’s the best author and illustrator of children’s books in all of Europe, maybe the entire world,”
    Declan boasted.
    Fiona felt her cheeks heat up again, although she’d have thought she was too tired for even embarrassment. “Let’s not get carried away. The Forest Fairies is my newest book. It’s a retelling of a rather grim Scottish fairy tale.”
    “Aren’t most fairy tales grim? If you’d ever met any of the Fae, you’d understand why. Vicious bastards, most of them,” Christophe growled. “Especially the Unseelie Court.”
    Declan laughed. “Unseelie Court? Isn’t that a myth?”
    “Sure, that’s what they’d like you to think,” Christophe muttered. “Then they murder you and steal your child.”
    “You’ve met Fae?” Fiona found it hard to believe. Certainly, since the vampires and shifters had announced their presence, there had been rumors that other, more publicity-shy supernatural beings existed, but she’d never known anyone who claimed to have met one of them.
    Declan piped up: “There’s a new course on the Fae in next year’s Oxford catalog.” When Fiona turned to look at him, surprised by his first mention of Oxford, his cheeks flushed bright pink. “Not that I’m planning to go to university just yet. You need me here.”
    “I most certainly do not need you here, you idjit. You and that giant brain of yours are going to school.
    You need to meet girls and go to pubs. Experience the life of a college man,” she said firmly.
    Christophe grinned, and she shot him a warning glare. Family business was none of his. He raised his hands in an “I surrender” pose and said nothing.
    Hopkins, however, was family and had no such restraint. “Ah, yes. The ‘pints and birds’ lecture given to generations of budding young Oxford men. A model of decorum, he’ll be.”
    Declan’s face flushed even hotter, if that were possible. “I’m not—”
    “Having this argument now, yes, I agree,” Fiona interjected smoothly. “In front of our new partner.”
    “Don’t mind me,” Christophe said. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters, so I’m finding this all pretty interesting.”
    She put her hands on her hips, ready to give him a piece of her mind, but she noticed that his smile was looking strained around the edges and he’d gone a little pale under his rich golden-brown tan. Guilt raised its head again. She’d shot the man full of drugs only hours ago, for Saint George’s sake.
    Speaking of which . . .
    “How are you walking around? Those are pretty powerful drugs on those tranq darts.”
    “I have a natural resistance. But don’t take that as an invitation to shoot me again. Please.”
    “Now would be a good time for bed,” Hopkins said, smoothly making the pistol disappear in his jacket.
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    “Oh, I so agree,” Christophe said, pinning Fiona in place with his hot gaze. “Where are we sleeping, partner?”
    “There is no we. Hopkins, please put him in the blue room for tonight and we’ll . . . we’ll sort this all out in the morning.”
    “If he doesn’t murder us all in our sleep,” Hopkins muttered, opening the door and motioning to Christophe to follow him.
    As they left the room, Fiona heard Christophe laugh. “So, Hopkins. Where did you say that good silver was?”

Chapter 10
    Fiona flipped the covers off her legs and stared down the length of her traitorous body in the moonlight from the open window. She was utterly exhausted—and utterly unable to sleep. Every inch of her body seemed to be on fire with a series of electrical charges, and her skin was tingling. Her mind kept whispering that satisfaction and relief was