Warriors of Poseidon 06 - Atlantis Betrayed

arms around her.
    “I’m not going to let you go for quite a while, so it’s a good thing we’re partners,” he said, reveling in the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest and one of her legs tucked between his.
    “I may agree to that,” she said, ever so primly, her cheeks hot again. His seductress had reverted back to Her Ladyship now that she was satisfied, and it delighted him. He’d be perfectly happy for no one but him to ever see the wild side of her.
    Ever?
    “You just tensed up,” she whispered. “What is going on behind those lovely green eyes?”
    “Nothing at all. Just sleep. Tomorrow you have books to sign, and we have a national treasure to steal.”
    Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
    Page 45 of 188
    He held her and stroked her hair until she slept, and then he lay there, wide awake and simply holding her, until the sun’s first rays sent their golden light through the window.
    Ever. He’d thought the word “ever” in relationship to a woman. He didn’t know whether to laugh—or run. She murmured in her sleep and snuggled closer to him, and he knew he wasn’t running anywhere just yet.
    Not yet.
    He could always run later.

Chapter 11
    Atlantis, the warrior training grounds, later that morning
    Alaric, sworn in magical service to Poseidon and widely regarded as the most powerful high priest the Seven Isles had ever known, was getting his ass handed to him by his high prince.
    He ducked as Conlan swung a particularly vicious overhand strike toward his head, then whirled and parried. The thud as the two wooden training swords collided in midair smashed its recoil through his arm and shoulder.
    “Remind me again why I’m doing this,” he called out, feinting left. “When I can destroy any attacker with my magic before his sword leaves its sheath?”
    “In case your magic goes on the fritz,” Princess Riley said, from her seat on a blanket in the grass bordering the hard-packed dirt training ring. She held her son with Conlan, Prince Aidan, the heir to the throne of Atlantis. His Royal Drooliness, she called him. Alaric felt it lacked a certain dignity, but he refrained from pointing it out.
    Humans could be so sensitive.
    “My magic does not fritz,” he replied, vanishing from under the force of Conlan’s advance and reappearing behind the prince. He swatted Conlan in the ass with the flat of his sword to emphasize the point.
    Conlan whirled around, bending down with that innate grace that had fooled so many opponents into underestimating his ferocity, and swept Alaric’s legs out from under him. Alaric’s own ass hit the dirt, hard, before he could teleport. His control over the skill was only slowly improving in spite of practice, and trying to use it while under attack was tricky, at best.
    Riley burst out laughing. “That looked like a fritz to me. Did that look like a fritz to you, wittle snookums?”
    The chubby baby chortled out a gurgling laugh. Probably at Alaric, if Aidan was anything like his parents.
    Alaric jumped to his feet and brushed the dirt off his pants. “One hopes you are addressing your son and not me,” he said dryly, lowering his sword and bowing to his prince.
    Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
    Page 46 of 188
    Conlan shouted out a laugh and then returned Alaric’s bow. A wide-eyed boy, probably shocked to hear his high prince and Poseidon’s high priest jesting so casually, ran up and retrieved the practice swords.
    “I can’t actually see anybody ever calling you wittle snookums,” Conlan said, still laughing. “Nobody would dare.”
    “I’m sure his mother did when he was Aidan’s size,” Riley said, grinning with mischief. “You weren’t always the scary high priest we all know and love, Alaric. Once you were a cute little baby, drooling on yourself and peeing your diaper.”
    Alaric’s lip curled away from his teeth. “Your Highness, did you mean to beat me into submission with the wooden swords or with your bride’s conversation?”
    Riley laughed again, not in the least offended. As an emotional empath, or aknasha, she could probably read his affection for her as easily as he could read Conlan’s worry in the lines of the prince’s face.
    They’d been friends for centuries, he and Conlan, and now that Atlantis was finally preparing to take its rightful place on the surface of the world once more, the problems kept coming, as hard and fast as Conlan’s attacks in the practice