"They kill my man and all of his army. I try to… what is the word?" Her brow scrunched as she searched her mind.
He gazed deeply into her eyes. They were as devoid of duplicity as always. "Defeat them?"
"Yes," she said. "Defeat them. I try and defeat them."
Whether he believed her story or not, he didn't like the thought of her being tied to another man. And he liked even less that he cared. "I didn't know you were married."
She looked away from him, past him, over his shoulder. Sorrow and grief radiated from her, and when she next spoke, her pain was like a living thing. "The union end too quickly."
He found himself reaching out to her for the first time. He wrapped his fingers around her palm and gave a light squeeze. "Why did they kill him?"
"To control the mist he guarded and steal his wealth. Even here, in this cell, they removed the jewels from the walls. I miss him," she added softly.
To control the mist he guarded … Alex had known she was from Atlantis, though he had failed to realize she was the wife of a Guardian. Or rather, former wife. God, he felt stupid. Of course she would be kept alive. She would know things about the mist that no one else knew.
He studied Teira's face with fresh eyes, taking in the elegant slope of her nose and the perfect curve of her pale brows. "How long has your-" Alex couldn't bring himself to say husband "-has he been gone?"
"Weeks now. So many weeks." Reaching up, Teira traced the seam of his lips. "You help me escape?"
Escape. How wonderful the word sounded. How terrifying. He'd lost track of time and didn't even know how long he'd been imprisoned. A day? A year? At first, he'd tried numerous times to flee, but he'd always been unsuccessful.
He rolled onto his back, and the action made his bones ache. He groaned. Teira wasted no time tucking her head into the hollow of his neck and placing her leg over his.
"You are lonely like me," she said. "I know you are."
She fit perfectly against him. Too perfectly. As if she'd been made specifically to match his body curve for curve. And he was lonely. He stared up at the flat ceiling. What was he going to do with this woman? Was she a heartless bitch who only wanted the medallion and was willing to sell her body to get it? Or was she as innocent as she appeared?
"Tell me about you."
She'd made the same request a thousand times before. It wouldn't hurt to give her some information about himself, he decided. Nothing important, just a tidbit or two. He wouldn't mention Grace, of course. He didn't dare. His love for his sister could be used against him, and that he wouldn't allow.
"I'm twenty-nine years old," he told Teira. He placed his hands on her head and sifted his fingers through her hair. Not only did the strands look like pearly moonlight, they felt like it, too. "I've always had a passion for fast cars." And even faster women, but he didn't disclose that part. "I've never been married, and I don't have children. I live in an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan."
"Man-hat-tan," she said, testing the word on her tongue. "Tell me more."
He didn't mention the crime or the pollution but gave her the details he knew she craved. "No matter what time of day or night, crowds of people wander the streets as far as the eye can see. Buildings stretch up to the sky. Shops and bakeries never close. It's a place where every desire can be indulged."
"My people rarely stray to the surface, but your Man-hat-tan sounds like a place we would enjoy."
"Tell me about your home."
Dreamy remembrance clouded her eyes, making the gold darken to chocolate. She snuggled deeper into his side. "We are inside a dragon palace, though you cannot tell by this cell. Outside, the sea flows all around. Flowers of every color bloom. There are many temples of worship," she said, slipping into her native tongue, "but most of us have forgotten them because we ourselves have been forgotten."
"I'm sorry." While he was coming to understand some of her language, he wasn't close to fluent. "I only understood a little of what you said."
"I say I wish I could show you."
No, she'd said more than that, but he let it go. How wonderful it would be to trek through Atlantis. If he met the inhabitants, studied the homes, wandered the streets and inundated himself within the culture, he could write a book about his experiences. He could-Alex shuddered when he realized he was diving back into his old pattern of thought.
"I wish I had the power to help you understand my language," Teira said. "But my powers are not strong enough to cast a spell." She paused, traced her fingertips over his jaw. "Who is Grace?"
Horrified, he leapt up and away from her as if she were the devil's handmaiden come to claim him. He swayed as a wave of dizziness hit him, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through his temples. He stumbled to the pitcher of water in the corner and sipped. When he felt more steadied, he glared over at Teira. "Where did you hear that name?"
She was trembling as she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "You said while you sleep."
"Don't ever say her name again. Not ever. Understand?"
"I am sorry. I never mean to upset you. I simply-"
The door opened.
Dirt flung in every direction as three men stalked inside. One carried a small table, one a chair and the third a platter of food. Soon a fourth man joined them, cradling a semiautomatic in his hands. He pointed the gun at Alex and grinned, daring him to move. Their arrival meant he'd have his drugs, so he was incapable of fear.
Teira's trembling increased. Every day these same men brought him food, a simple meal of bread, cheese and water. Every day they escorted Teira from the room, leaving him to eat alone. And every day she fought them, scratching and screaming. Alex had always assumed her resistance was an act, that they were taking her away to find out what she'd learned from him that day, but as he looked at her, really looked at her this time, he saw the signs of true terror. Her already pale skin became pallid, revealing the faint trace of veins beneath. Her eyes became impossibly round, and she pressed her lips together-to keep from whimpering?
The table was placed in front of Alex. Hands now free, the guard who'd been holding it strode to Teira and clasped her firmly by the forearm. She didn't protest as he wrenched her to her feet. She merely gazed over at Alex, silently pleading with him to help her.
"Time for you to be by yourself for a while, sweetheart," the man told her.
Whether she worked for or against these people, Alex realized her fear was real. "Leave her alone," he said. He latched on to her other arm, making her the rope in a vicious tug of war.
One of the guards scowled and stalked to him. Something was slammed into Alex's temple. His vision blurred. His knees buckled, and he went down. Hard. Teira cried out, tried to reach him, and Alex watched in growing horror as she was slapped across the face. Her head whipped to the side, and he caught the sight of blood on her lip.
Fury consumed him. Hot, blinding fury, giving him strength where he should have had none. With a roar, he sprang up and tackled Teira's tormentor. All three men flew at him, and he found himself subdued and pinned, helpless once again.
"Alex," Teira cried.
Get up , his mind screamed. Help her . As he pushed to his feet, someone grabbed his arm. He experienced a sharp sting as a needle was shoved into his vein. Familiar warmth invaded him, calming, relaxing. The ache in his bones faded. His dry mouth flooded with moisture. When he was released, he sank to the ground, the will to fight completely deserting him.
Teira was dragged away.
He closed his eyes and let his mind float away to nothingness. Footsteps echoed in his ears, tapering to quiet as the rest of the men vacated the room. A new set of footsteps suddenly sounded, these coming closer and closer to him.