Alaric’s stare was a nearly tangible thing, burning into Quinn with the heat of living flame—strange, that, since fire was the one element forbidden to Atlanteans. But the high priest had his own form of wild magic, she knew. One that whispered to her of silken seductions in the middle of the night, during the fractured hours of sleep when she found herself consumed by impossible dreams of a dangerous warrior.
He had always worn his duty and honor like a shield, one that matched her own shield of shame, remorse, and regret. Between the two of them lay a vast chasm of dark and bloody acts sacrificed at the altar of good intention. Not even a world-bending kind of passion could bridge that canyon, regardless of what Alaric, in his temporary insanity, might believe.
“Poseidon,” Alaric said slowly, catching Quinn’s gaze with his own, “is no longer my priority. Both he and you will come to believe me soon enough.”
The pressure—of the moment, of the day, even of the decade—built up inside her until her lungs seemed unable to push air into and out of her body. Pain—physical, emotional, even spiritual—swept through her, burning its way through determination and resolve. Quinn finally did the one thing she hadn’t done in a very long time. She ran from danger, instead of facing it. She turned and strode back into the cave, blindly seeking refuge from the man who’d just staked his claim on her future. At her side, the man who’d been so essential a part of her past stalked down the corridor on all fours, leaving his humanity farther and farther behind with each swish of his silken tiger’s tail.
Future and past were both too much to contemplate for Quinn’s exhausted mind, so she focused on the present. She found an empty room with beds in it, and she collapsed onto the nearest one, silently apologizing to the bed’s owner for the tears she could no longer contain.
She’d solve it after she slept. All of it.
Before exhaustion pulled her under, she thought she saw an Alaric-shaped shadow appear in her doorway, but when she tried to stir, a gentle glow of silvery blue light surrounded her and she found herself drifting further into sleep.
Jack snarled and then began to snore, a low, rumbling noise, and she thought she heard Alaric’s laughter.
“You may be sure, mi amara, that we will discuss this habit you have of allowing another man into your bed.”
Her lips almost curved into a smile, and then the world curled around her into the warmth and safety of darkness.