Atlantis Awakening

Buy the Book: Kindle
Published by: Berkley
Release Date: 11-06-2007
Pages: 304
ISBN13: 978-0425217962


To rescue the world from an overwhelming evil, Poseidon’s warriors have risen from Atlantis. Chief among them is Ven, serving as the King’s Vengeance by birthright and by battle challenge. None can conquer him—except perhaps for one human female….

Ven’s mind is filled with duty. He must serve as Atlantean liaison to the humans in a war waged against the vampires. A sword is his weapon—not diplomacy. But on a mission to recover the Nereid’s heart—a ruby of immense power—it will take every ounce of strength he possesses to resist the sexual allure of the beautiful witch chosen to work with him.

Erin’s heart is filled with vengeance. She lives only for the chance at revenge against those who murdered her family. Now she must partner with a legendary Atlantean warrior whose dark desire threatens to crash through the barriers built around her emotions—and her heart. Caught in the trap of shifting alliances, how long can Ven and Erin resist their awakening passion?


“Fascinating, thrilling, and deeply romantic.”
– Jayne Castle, New York Times bestselling author

“Alyssa Day’s Atlantis is flat-out amazing—her sexy and heroic characters make me want to beg for more! I love the complex world she’s created!”
National bestselling author Alexis Morgan

“The legend comes to life. Alyssa Day’s superb writing, fascinating characters, and edge-of-your-seat story bring the legend of Atlantis to life. I cannot wait until the next installment.”
– Prism award-winning author Colby Hodge

Praise for the Warriors of Poseidon series:

“Alyssa Day’s Warriors of Poseidon series is fascinating, thrilling, and deeply romantic. The perfect blend of fabulous world-building and sexy romantic-adventure.”
—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Castle

—Fresh Fiction

“Alyssa Day works her own brand of sexy sorcery in this fabulous new paranormal series. Warriors and witches have never been so hot!”
—New York Times bestselling author Teresa Medeiros


Seattle, The Pink Pig Pub

Ven wanted to smash something. Bad. Preferably the face of the jerk he was supposed to meet forty-five minutes ago. Bad enough he had to postpone his planned evening festivities to meet a wizard, but his neck was aching and he had the feeling that the bandage Brennan had slapped on it wasn’t really doing the job.

His lip curled as he scanned the place, trying to avoid compulsively checking the time again. Dirt and bottle caps warred for space in every corner. Stale beer and the miasma of ancient cigarette smoke hung in the air in a foul cloud. Even all these years after the “no smoking in public places” laws went into effect, joints like this still reeked of the cancer sticks.

He scanned the losers slouching on the cracked red vinyl barstools of the dive where the coven rep had insisted they meet. Professional drinkers, all. Professional losers. Although who else hung out in a place like this at midnight on a Tuesday?

Well, losers except for one highly pissed off Atlantean warrior. He thought back to Alexios calling him “your Highness” and scowled. He didn’t like the title, even in jest. Prince Ven, yeah, right. However much he didn’t like the idea, he was stuck being second in line to the throne, at least until Conlan and Riley started popping out babies. Which had better be soon, because no way did Ven ever want that little obligation. King of the Seven Isles of Atlantis.

He shuddered, downed his beer at the thought. Nope. He was much better as head of the warrior training academy. The King’s Vengeance, whose sworn duty it was to protect his brother the king. Taking names and kicking ass of any vamp or shape-shifter who decided to snack on humans.

He glanced up at the cracked face of the Budweiser clock on the wall. Maybe he’d just kick some magical ass. Specifically, the asshole he was supposed to be meeting to discuss a Magickals-Atlantean alliance. The asshole who was now fifty-two minutes late.

The squeak of the hinges on the door alerted him, and he looked up into the mirror behind the bar, his gaze trained on the person walking in.

His eyes widened, and then narrowed in appreciation. If he had to waste time waiting for the jerk Quinn had sent, at least now he had something worth looking at. He whirled around on his stool so he was facing her. All curves and attitude in a small package, the blonde came striding into the place as if she owned it.

High-heeled leather boots worn under snug jeans, rounded hips he’d love to get his hands on, and a tight-fitting black leather jacket. Oh, yeah. She was exactly his type of woman.

And he must have been dreaming, because she walked right past the lowlife scum who were drooling at the sight of her and stopped in front of him.

Ven was used to the reactions of human women to him. Hell, after several centuries, he knew that they considered him attractive. Not a lot of six-foot, seven-inch muscled warrior types running around with human DNA these days.

This one flicked her icy-blue gaze down, then up him and curled her lips back a little. He’d looked at steaming piles of peacock shit on the palace grounds with more enthusiasm.

“So,” she drawled, disgust dripping from her voice. “You’re the pride of Atlantis?”

She stalked around him and leaned back on the vacant barstool on his left, glanced his way again. Then she rolled her freaking eyes.

Ven had seen and heard way more than enough. He rose to his full height, which gave him more than a foot on her, and stared down his nose. “You’re late.”

Okay, that was lame. Sadly, it was all he could think of, considering his brain cells had gone south at the sight of the creamy cleavage nestled in the gap between the lapels of her jacket and some lacy thing she wore underneath it.

For some reason, he wanted to lick it.

And her.

“Oh, boy, you’re just trouble with a capital–”

“Make that a capital W, warrior,” she said. “And you can sit down now and leave your Intimidation 101 tactics for somebody who is impressed with them.”

He sat down, feeling like a damn fool, gaping at her. “Capital W? How did you–”

She smiled slowly, sensual lips curving over a gorgeous set of teeth. God, even her teeth turned him on. Suddenly he was a horny fucking dentist.

He shifted on the stool, hoping she hadn’t noticed the sudden tightness in his jeans.

“Capital W is for witch, warrior,” she said. “Welcome to the revolution.”

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