“We don’t need help from those who imprison women for thousands of years, failed priest,” Serai said, her eyes again perfectly dark, completely blue. The power hadn’t left her, then. “If I return now, I lose any chance to retrieve the Emperor. I might be safe, since I’m out of the pod, but I won’t trade my life for theirs.”
“She stays,” Daniel said. “But we’ll take whatever help we can get to keep her safe.”
Serai glared at him, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t risk her life for foolish pride, neither her pride nor his. When she was thinking clearly again, she’d agree. Alaric nodded, and then the unlikely trio moved through the gate: the priest, the rebel leader he loved, and the tiger who might never recover his humanity.
When the light from the portal vanished, swallowing the three, everyone watching exhaled as if they’d all been holding their breath by mutual agreement.
“This sucks beyond all reason,” Melody said, her tearstained face at odds with her flippant words. “I’ m heading into town for a hotel room and a hot shower. Tomorrow morning is early enough to decide on a plan. Anybody with me?”
“I’m not leaving you until this mission is complete,” Reisen said flatly. “Lead on. We must, however, discover who those vampires were, and why they attacked. Are they with the vampire controlling this region? Nicholas? Are they in league with the witches?”
“Or, worse, working for that human banker,” Daniel said grimly. “For tonight—what’s left of it—we should find shelter and rest.”
“Yes,” Serai said. “I’d like to experience a hotel before I . . .”
As her voice trailed off, Daniel realized she’d been about to say “before I die.”
“Don’t even think it,” he warned her. “I won’t allow it.”
She just sighed, exhaustion in every line of her body. “I’m too tired to argue with you, and I need a hot bath. Let’s all talk after we rest.”
Daniel wondered how they’d get to a hotel, and who would take care of the fallen humans, but this was not the first time the rebels had faced such losses, and they had a system in place. Within the hour, they were ensconced in a hotel in Sedona, and he was systematically drinking his way through every tiny bottle of whiskey in the minibar while he tried not to think about Serai’s naked body in the bathtub on the other side of a very flimsy door. He could smell the bath salts she’d poured in the tub. He could smell the soap and the shampoo that was touching her perfect skin and beautiful hair. But a far worse problem than that was becoming more and more evident.
He could smell her blood.
He could breathe in the scent of her luscious, life-giving blood, pumping through her veins beneath that perfect and oh-so-fragile skin. He’d channeled so much power, so long unused, and he was growing weak from the drain on his energy. The bloodlust he’d controlled for so many thousands of years was raising its monstrous head to scent its prey.
And Serai smelled like prey.
Chapter 12
Serai sank farther into the scented water until only her knees and head remained above the clouds of frothy bubbles. The bath salts had a pleasing floral scent, but that of no flower she knew or remembered. It was no Atlantean tub, to be sure. She’d do no swimming or even languid floating with her friends here in this hotel bathroom. After so long without a bath, though, with only magical stasis-maintained cleanliness, this small tub felt fit for a king. Or at least fit for a once-almost-queen. One who wanted nothing more than to scrub the scent of fire and blood and battle from her skin.
The steamy heat sank into her tired muscles, soothing and relaxing them after a day and night of activity that surely had been more strenuous than a normal person’s week. Or month. She hadn’t even known that she had the ability to shift her shape to that of the ancient tiger, and yet she’d done it not once but twice. The saber-toothed tiger had been her favorite animal to study in the schoolroom. So beautiful and yet fierce and deadly.
Rather like Daniel. An image of him, standing over her and ferociously protecting her from attack, flashed into her mind, and she drew a shaky breath. He was the fiercest warrior she’d ever seen, and every ounce of that rage and power had been focused on saving her.
A tingling sensation swept through her at the thought of him—her vampire warrior and protector—waiting in the next room, with only a door between them. Her nipples stiffened and she blinked to see their pink tips pointing up through the bubbles. She raised her hands to cup her breasts and ran an exploratory thumb over one nipple, gasping at the electric sensation that pinged through her body from that sensitive place to another, even more sensitive place.
How much more exciting would it be if it were Daniel touching her there? She caught her breath at the thought, feeling deliciously naughty and then, suddenly, starkly ashamed. Men and women had just died, and she herself had killed one of them. Yes, it had been a vampire who’d been attacking Reisen, bent on killing him. Yes, it had been in battle.
But she’d never even struck anyone in anger, and now she’d killed a man. A vampire, like Daniel. How could she dismiss that so easily? The tears began to run down her face as the horrible inventory unfolded in her mind. Quinn’s friend Jack, the man who’d been kind enough to spend part of his day protecting Serai from her own foolishness, was wounded perhaps beyond hope of healing. His humanity might never return. Several more of the rebels—more friends—were also dead or injured.
All of it due to a vampire attack that might even have had something to do with the Emperor and whoever had stolen it. Not to mention the maidens lying helpless in Atlantis, waiting for her to find the Emperor and save them.
And yet—in spite of all of that—here she sat in luxury and peace in her bath, playing at ideas of being a sexual temptress. Shame and exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she dropped her head to her knees and gave in to the sobs that had lain in wait for her since she first stepped foot out of that pod.
So much responsibility on Serai’s inexperienced shoulders. Too much, perhaps. If she failed them, her sisters-in-stasis would die—because of her. She’d never been responsible for anything more important than choosing a new gown for a ball, and now the fate of the maidens, and maybe even that of Atlantis itself, lay in her hands. The Seven Isles couldn’t rise to the surface without all of the jewels from Poseidon’s trident.
It was too much. Far too much. She couldn’t possibly live up to the task. She pulled a towel from the heated bar near the tub and pressed her face into it, the end trailing in the water, so the sound of her sobs wouldn’t reach beyond the bathing room.
When the door crashed open, she knew she’d failed at even that. Moving so fast he was a blur, Daniel crossed to the tub and pulled her up and out of it, cradling her—wet towel, bubbles, and all—on his lap.
“Serai? Are you injured? Should we call for a healer or a doctor?” He stared into her eyes, holding her tightly to his chest, and she felt herself flush so hot her skin must be on fire.
“Daniel! I’m not injured, but I’m . . . I have no . . . I was in the bath. This is shockingly inappropriate. Release me immediately and leave the room.”
He ignored her completely and instead tightened his embrace and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Then why are you crying as if your heart would break, my beautiful one?”
She shook her head back and forth as the pain rushed up again to choke her, her childish concerns about her nudity forgotten. “The attack. The dead rebels. Jack. My sisters. The Emperor. What if I can’t find it, Daniel? My connection to it keeps growing weaker. What if I can never find it and the rest of the maidens die, too?”