Atlantis Rising

Chapter 24

Riley woke up, warm, content, and deliriously sore in places that hadn't been sore in a very long time. For a moment she didn't open her eyes, perfectly happy to just lie there with Conlan's arms around her, her head nestled on his shoulder. Sunlight wanning the room. Peace, even the illusory peace that she knew it was, warming her heart.

"I wondered when you might wake up, sleepy one."

She turned a little to smile up at him. "Sleepy one? It was after four when you finally let me rest."

The smile on his face was smug and undeniably male. She laughed, then pinched him.

"Hey!" He rolled over and caught her underneath him. "Do you know what the penalty is for assaulting the person of Atlantean royalty?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, poor baby. That tiny pinch? Surely the dungeon."

Conlan's eyes gleamed with mischief and something decidedly lascivious. "Oh, no. No dungeon for you. The penalty is hard labor. In my bedchambers."

Riley giggled. She couldn't help it. The sight of her proud warrior, for once lighthearted and teasing, simply made her happy.

Conlan's heart stuttered at the sound of Riley's carefree laughter. He'd never stayed around after bedding a female. He'd always known he must avoid entanglements.

But Riley. Riley. Laughing, cheeks flushed with happiness and the aftermath of the night's passion. He'd felt her desire deepen—known when her emotions capitulated.

Still, she had not admitted it.

Not in words.

He grinned. "Maybe we'll have to work on that."

"Work on the idea of me doing hard labor? I think not," she said, squirming in an attempt to get away.

He lifted his arm, let her pull up on her elbows. Which put him exactly where he wanted to be, with his face level with her adorable little belly button.

He pounced, trapping her again, and licked across her warm skin.

"Hey! No fair," she said, still laughing.

"Be still," he murmured, then slid farther down in the bed, until he was staring at an intriguing triangle of red-gold curls.

"Conlan? What are you—"

Her voice cut off with a gasp as he moved his hand and traced through the curls with one finger. "I think your penalty is about to begin, mi amara. Lie still and accept your punishment."

He moved her thighs apart, trapping them in his hands.

"But—"

He swept his tongue along the path his finger had taken, and she moaned. He smiled. "I think the prisoner must behave, or the penalty will be extended."

Riley caught her breath as Conlan's tongue swept across her again. Nerve endings she didn't even know she had sizzled and flashed fire through her veins, sending an arc of electricity blasting straight from his tongue to every inch of her body.

She moaned as he kissed and licked and suckled her, paying the same attention that he had to her breasts. Except this time, she was going to come in his mouth if he didn't stop.

She whipped her head back and forth on the pillow, drowning in the sensation. Surrendering to the primal heat that sparkled from him, from her, from them both. Who knew where one ended and the other began? Oh, his lips, his tongue, his mouth. She was going to explode. If only, if only…

He slid one finger inside her and pressed down.

"Conlan!" somebody—was that her!—screamed.

He added a second finger and thrust them in and out of her wetness in time with what his tongue was doing, and she gasped, begging, pleading.

And then he stopped.

Her eyes flew open and she stared down at him, trying to breathe, trying to focus. He smiled up at her, pupils nearly consumed with that dancing blue-green fire. "Come for me, Riley. Let me taste your sweetness in my throat."

Then he bent his head again and she shattered at the first touch of his mouth. Coming and coming and coming until she thought she would pass out from the sensation.

When he finally released her, he pulled her down beside him and touched her cheeks. "You're crying. Did I hurt you?"

She gazed up at him through the tears tangled in her lashes. "No. Far from it. I think… I think you may have healed something in me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to her. "I need you inside me, Conlan. Please."

Satisfaction and pure possessiveness shone in his eyes. "Then you will have me."

He pulled her legs up and centered his thick erection over her, nudging at her sensitive core. "Now?" he asked, teasing.

"Now."

With one thrust, he seated himself in her to the hilt, his heavy sac slapping against her bottom. She screamed and clenched around him, convulsing again and again.

He pulled back and thrust again, groaning, as her body tightened around his thickness. In fewer than a dozen strokes he yelled out his own release and shuddered in her arms, spasming inside her for a long time.

When she could form words, she laughed. "Okay, I'm totally pleading guilty if that's the punishment."

He rolled over, pulling her with him. "I'm not sure we could call that a punishment," he said, still breathing heavily.

"Although maybe for you. My control is as bad as an untried lad in his early days at the Academy."

She snuggled into his arms. "Tell me."

"About my lack of control?"

"About Atlantis. It must be incredible."

He caught her lips in a kiss. "It is more amazing than you could ever imagine. I cannot wait to show you my home. But first, a shower. Then food. Then I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Riley shook her head. "Food. At a time like this. Is food all men think about?"

He sat up with her still in his arms, then stood, carrying her, as if she weighed nothing. "I'm not sure you can ask me that after this night, little empath. At least not with any credibility."

"I'm not little! Put me down," she said, holding on to his neck tightly and laughing.

"I will. In the shower." He waggled his eyebrows in a fake leer. "Did I mention I'm from Atlantis? I'm really great with water."

She laughed all the way into the bathroom, where she discovered that he wasn't great with water at all.

He was spectacular.

Ven walked out of the shower and realized what was niggling at the edge of his brain. He hadn't heard anything from Riley's room all night. And he'd definitely seen Conlan go in there after unceremoniously dumping Denal on him. He'd expected an explosion.

Of one kind or another.

Not that he'd planned to stick around if anything like those vibes of pure sex had started pumping through the walls, like they had the other day. Something about an empath and an Atlantean set sexual tension to loud on the broadcast frequency.

Might be something to consider.

He thought about Riley's sister while he pulled on clean pants and a T-shirt. Nah, Chick was too dark and complicated for him. He liked them simple and welcoming.

Easy to leave.

The gods knew he was destined for the same unwelcome fate as Conlan. Married off to some ancient maiden they'd pick out for him at the time.

It was the royal duty to carry out the Council's plan for the Atlantean lineage.

Sucked to be a prince.

Not that any of Poseidon's warriors escaped that exciting chore. Forced marriage to an eleven-thousand-year-old virgin. Woo-hoo, could he control the excitement?

At least he had another fifty or so years before it was his dick on the block. So to speak.

He grabbed the bag he'd tossed by the door when he'd come back in the middle of the night. Figured Riley would be wanting it about now.

Grinned at what he might discover in her room.

He pulled open the door and walked into the corridor and nearly ran into Alaric. The priest wore all black again, which only highlighted the extreme pallor of his face.

Somebody didn't get his beauty sleep.

"Watch your step, Vengeance." The snarl on the priest's face would have scared most people.

Ven just laughed. "What's got your panties in a bunch? Couldn't sleep after making a fool of yourself in front of Riley's sister last night?"

Alaric froze, then slowly turned his head to stare at Ven. Power glowed a fierce green in his eyes. "You may wish to learn to watch your step in more ways than one. I am nearly at the limit of my patience."

Ven started to give it right back to him, but something in the priest's eyes stopped him. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn Alaric was in some kind of pain.

If he didn't know better.

"Hell, why ruin the day before I've even had any coffee? Let's hit the caffeine, Alaric. Oh, and I have to give this stuff to Riley, if she and Conlan didn't kill each other last night. I didn't feel anything at all from her room last night."

Alaric's lips thinned, but he started walking toward the kitchen. "I shielded their room. If I'd had to feel any of their—well. I shielded the room. Leave it at that."

Ven blinked as Alaric strode off down the hall. Something was definitely wrong, beyond even the obvious guilt that tore at the priest for the loss of the Trident.

"Which reminds me, we need to get our asses in gear," he muttered, then crossed the hall to knock on Riley's door. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

He didn't hear a response and wondered if the shield kept her from hearing his knock. Cautiously, he opened the door. "Riley?"

And was treated to the glorious sight of Riley's beautifully bare backside as she stood, stretching, beside the bed.

She let out a little scream and dove into the bed, yanking the covers up over her body.

"Oh, man," he said, looking down at the floor, at his boots, anywhere but at her. He could feel his face heat up in a slow flush.

Not that seeing a woman naked had ever bothered him before but, hell, this was Riley. Lady Sunshine. She was as brave as any warrior, and she deserved better than some idiot walking in on her.

Plus, from the scent of sex in the room, Conlan was going to try to kick his ass.

"It's okay, Ven, you can look up now," she said drily. "I'm decent. Thanks for knocking."

He grinned at her. "Hey, don't blame me. I did knock. Alaric put some sort of spell on the room to shield it so we didn't have to put up with… er, I mean, oh, crap."

Her face flamed red all the way down her throat and the enticing part of her chest he could see above the sheet she was clutching. "Oh, God. Oh, I never, we never… ohhhhhh."

Naturally, that was the moment Conlan chose to walk out of the bathroom, damp from the shower and wearing nothing but a towel. "What? Ven! What are you doing in here?"

He stepped between Riley and Ven, blocking Ven's view. "What are you doing in here when Riley is undressed?" he repeated, an ominous threat in his voice.

"Oh, chill out, bro. That's exactly why I'm here."

Riley made an interesting squeaking noise from behind Conlan. "What?"

He held up the bag so she could see it over Conlan's shoulder. "I couldn't sleep last night. Thought you might be tired of wearing the same clothes. Stopped by your place to see if anybody unfriendly was hanging out there and brought you some stuff to wear, some of your girly crap, whatever."

Conlan started to smile and took the bag from him. "So I see Riley has the same effect on you that she does on Denal, baby brother."

Ven narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, well, don't forget I can kick your ass twice a day and three times on Fridays, old man."

Riley jumped out of the bed, wrapped in the sheet, and rushed over to them. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I was desperate to get my hands on some clean clothes. You're the best!"

She slipped between Conlan and Ven and stood on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Ven's cheek, then snatched the bag out of Conlan's hand. "Thank you so much! Now if you two will excuse me, I'm going to get dressed so we can figure out how to recover the Trident and save the world."

Ven and Conlan both stood there, gaping, as she hurried to the bathroom, wrapped up like a mummy and trailing the end of the sheet behind her.

"A little pillow talk?" Ven asked, grinning at his flustered brother. "By the way, I didn't see any signs of vamps posted at Riley's house. They must have been after us."

"Thanks, Ven. I don't know what I'd do if…" He paused, eyes narrowing, then shook his head. "Riley is the most amazing woman—no, the most amazing human—no, not even that. She's the most amazing person I have ever encountered. She accepts whatever is thrown at her and moves to conquer it."

Ven shoved his hands in his pockets, a tendril of concern snaking through him. "So, she's pretty amazing. And she also seems to have conquered you, brother. Have you told her about your destined queen yet?"

Conlan clenched his jaw. "No. I don't—No. But I need to talk to Alaric, Ven. Things are going to have to change."

Ven said nothing, not sure of what words would accomplish. Things were going to change, that was for damn sure. He just wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

Riley dug into the bag, thrilled to see that Ven had known enough about women to bring an assortment of her toiletries. Now for clothes.

She pulled out a handful of silk and leather.

He had to be kidding.

This was what Atlantean warriors considered useful battle gear for empaths? Silk camisoles and her one and only miniskirt?

She rolled her eyes. The skirt was the only leather in her closet, so biker-look man must have thought it was the thing to wear. At least he'd shoved her favorite pair of boots and a blue sweater in there, too, so she wouldn't freeze to death.

By the time she dressed, Conlan was gone. She spent about five seconds thinking about how she so didn't want to face the warriors, when everybody would know what she and Conlan had been up to all night, but the scent of coffee overrode any shyness and she wandered down to the kitchen, chin raised.

Only to find the room empty. But a full pot of coffee—fresh, from the smell of it—sat there tempting her. She selected a muffin from the enormous, half-empty box on the table to go with it and sat down at the table, prepared to enjoy a quiet breakfast before she saved the world.

Heh. Social worker takes on the Primus. Film at eleven.

"Of my detached body parts, most likely," she muttered.

Somebody cleared his throat behind her, and she nearly dropped her coffee mug.

"I beg your pardon, Lady Riley?"

She turned to find Denal standing in the doorway to the hall. "Nothing. Just mumbling to myself, which is never a good sign. Come in. Do you want some coffee?"

He bowed to her and, oddly enough, it didn't faze her. She must be getting used to it. Great.

Add swelled head to the list of things she needed to worry about.

"No, thank you, but I would avail myself of another of those blueberry muffins, if I may?"

She laughed. "Denal, seriously, we have to work on your language. Bring it into this century. And, sure, avail away. Pull up a chair."

He bowed again and took a seat across the table from her, back to the wall. Then he took a muffin and sank his teeth into it, a look of bliss spreading over his face.

She grinned; she couldn't help it. He looked like a nine-year-old kid like that. Which made her wonder. "Denal, exactly how old are you? You guys keep throwing out words like 'centuries' when you're talking about stuff, but I had too much to wrap my brain around to go there before."

He swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin, then looked at her seriously. "I am soon to celebrate the anniversary of my birth, Lady Riley. Do you celebrate such times?"

"Yes, with cake and ice cream and balloons. And, please, just Riley, okay? So how many candles will be on your cake?"

He looked puzzled. "Candles?"

"One candle per year. So my next cake will have twenty-eight candles, which is way too close to thirty for my liking," she said, shuddering at the thought. "And you?"

He grinned at her. "I am afraid my cake would give rise to a conflagration, Lady… Riley. My candles would number two and twenty."

She laughed. "Right, junior. Twenty-two is hardly enough for a conflagration. You couldn't even roast a marshmallow with twenty-two candles."

Denal finished his muffin and selected another, then shook his head. "Two hundred and twenty. Perhaps enough to roast a chicken or two."

She blinked. "Oh. Well. You look great for your age," she said weakly.

Two hundred twenty years old? And he was the young one? But…

"Denal, how old is Conlan?"

He looked surprised. "He has not shared that with you? But I thought you and he… Um, rather—"

It was her turn to smile, even though she could feel her cheeks turning pink. "It's okay, Denal. We're still… feeling our way through things."

He looked down at the table, which suddenly must have become fascinating, since he wouldn't raise his gaze to meet hers. "I offer my apologies. I did not mean to cause you discomfort."

"Trust me, this is nothing. You should have been around for some of the things my sister did to embarrass me when we were kids."

He finally looked up, mischief gleaming in his eyes. "I was the youngest of eight, and have seven older sisters. I can imagine full well how things must have been between you. Mine used to dress me up like a doll and make me sit through interminable tea parties."

"Oh, I am so gonna use that against you, kid," Bastien's good-natured rumble of a voice cut through the room. "Maybe we can set up a tea party for you on our next mission?"

Denal jumped to his feet, crumbs dropping to the floor. "If you ever tell anyone that story, I'll—I'll—"

Bastien laughed. "Might want to stop there, until you grow a little bit, youngling. Besides, I'm tired from being out on patrol all night. Wouldn't be a fair fight, would it?"

Riley fought to keep from grinning at the idea of Denal going up against Bastien. The older warrior towered over him by nearly a foot and was as broad as the side of a small hill.

But the conversation brought her back to her earlier point. "Good morning, Bastien. So, if Denal is a youngling, how old are you?"

"Good morn, my lady. I have nearly four hundred years, praise be to Poseidon." Bastien ambled over to the coffee and poured the rest of the pot into an enormous mug that looked like a doll cup in his hand.

"And Conlan?" she asked, not sure she even wanted to know the answer.

Bastien cocked his head and gave her a quizzical grin. "Prince Conlan is merely a few weeks away from the age of his ascension to the throne, of course. He will celebrate five hundred years on that day, when he meets his lady wife and becomes king of all Atlantis."

Riley dropped her coffee mug and stared, unseeing, as coffee ran in rivulets across the table. "When he meets who?"