Published by: Holliday Publishing
Poseidon’s warriors have learned that the battle to protect humanity produces unexpected enemies–and alliances. And one of the most powerful of all Atlantean warriors will soon find both…in one daring beauty.
A warrior’s mission, a woman’s desire…
What could Christophe, powerful Warrior of Poseidon, have in common with Fiona Campbell, prim and proper Scottish illustrator of fairytales by day and notorious jewel thief known as the Scarlet Ninja by night? Answer: The Siren, a legendary Crown Jewel that Fiona has targeted for her next heist. It’s said to be worth millions, but to Christophe it’s invaluable. For the Siren also happens to be one of the missing jewels from Poseidon’s trident.
And the unnatural evil that could destroy them both.
But breaking into the Tower of London is a two-person job, so Christophe and Fiona team up to commit the crime of the century. As newfound passions fire their motives–and cloud their judgment–they realize they aren’t the only ones after the priceless gem. A dark force is shadowing their every move, and threatening to shatter their trust with revenge, betrayal, and a haunting revelation about the past.
Nominated by The Romance Reviews for Best Paranormal Romance for 2010
“Day serves up her best book to date with this exhilarating, funny adventure.”
– Romantic Times
“Day’s sixth foray into this mysterious world offers the best of both worlds: a beautiful kingdom under the sea and hot, fast-paced action laced with humor on land.”
– San Francisco Book Review
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
“A PHENOMENAL NEW SERIES.”
“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
“Who in the bloody hell are you and where did you come from?” Fiona glared at the intruder, her gaze traveling up and up as he slowly stood, holding his hands out in front of him. He was a few inches over six feet of tall, dark, and sinfully gorgeous, and he had no right to be here in the middle of her scouting trip, never mind those astonishingly muscled shoulders and the dark waves of hair framing the most beautiful green eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and deliciously masculine face she had ever seen on a living, breathing man. Her breathing sped up, and her heart, which had already been racing faster than the lead car in the Birmingham Super Prix, thundered so hard it surely would pound its way out of her chest any moment.
She was a thief, standing in the middle of one of the most priceless collections of gems in the entire world, and yet she wasn’t tempted to look anywhere but at him.
Oh, yes. He was trouble.
Trouble blinked; long, dark lashes closing over emerald-green eyes so gorgeous they had to be illegal in most of Europe. Then he threw back his head and laughed, and shivers traced a delicate pattern down her spine. His deep, rich laugh was dark chocolate and champagne and silk sheets all presented in one wickedly mouthwatering package.
Oh, damn, it had been far too long since she’d had sex.
Her watch beeped. Glancing down, she saw that she had twelve minutes. Declan had hacked into the security cameras and put them on a circular repeating pattern or something equally complex and brilliant, but he’d warned her a dozen times that she had exactly fifteen minutes and not a second more.
She raised the tranq gun and used her best frosty, lady-of-the-manor voice. “I repeat, who in the bloody hell are you?”
“You’re Scottish,” he said, quite unnecessarily.
“Give the man a gold ring. You have ten seconds to tell me who you are and why you’re here before I shoot you.” She raised the gun, hoping the first time she had to shoot a man while looking him in the eyes wouldn’t haunt her dreams for months to come. But needs must and, well, the Siren was waiting, no matter how mouthwateringly delicious this man might be.
“The Scarlet Ninja is a woman. A Scottish woman,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe, blistering every inch of skin under her garments, as if the heat in his eyes were a palpable touch.
Of course, the negative here was that he appeared to be a blithering idiot.
“Yes. Ninja. Woman. Scottish. Do you have something against Scotland?”
Her watch beeped. Eleven minutes.
“Ninja,” he repeated, taking a step toward her. “Nin. Ja. Have you ever cracked a history book? Scotland. Ninjas. No.”
Fiona’s watch crackled. Declan checking in, and he was going to go mad if she didn’t respond soon. She raised her wrist and spoke softly. “Bit of a problem. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
The luscious bit of man candy had the nerve to flash a devilish grin at her. “You can handle me anytime. I like to play dress-up games, too. You can be the ninja, and I’ll be the pirate.”
“Lovely. A thief and a boorish lout,” she snapped. Declan squawked from her wrist, but she lowered her hand and ignored her overprotective brother for the moment.
“Thief, huh. Pot, kettle? I guess we all know why you’re here, but a better question is what kind of magic were you throwing around out there?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, careful not to let her shock show in her eyes.
“Fine. Another question, then.” He took another step toward her, all leashed power and hard-bodied male. She felt like a particularly scrumptious piece of catnip caught in the path of a tiger. “Scarlet Ninja. Today’s answer to Robin Hood. What are you here for? Not that it matters.” He waved an arm at the glass boxes filled with crowns, scepters, swords, and sundry. “Luckily, there’s plenty for both of us.”
It was her turn to blink, but she was out of time for small talk. “You’ll never succeed. But I’m only here for one thing, so feel free to look around.”
He smiled, and she wondered dizzily if the devil himself had a smile as seductive.