Shattered by the Sea Lord (Lords of Atlantis Book 8)

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Shattered by the Sea Lord (Lords of Atlantis Book 8) Page 6

by Starla Night


  “If you do not count the warriors I have faced in battle, then yes.”

  “I can’t believe we’re in the middle of a war now, but it seems like it… To answer your original question, I’ve probably met with a hundred people this week. Once you count everyone I see regularly, my friends, my parents’ friends…yes, easily. And when you go back to past months, for example, when I volunteered at the Winter Art Charity Auction, we had nearly a hundred volunteers and over a thousand guests. Plus journalists, the board of directors, employees of the museum, and so forth.”

  Ah. Yes.

  The surface world was unfathomably vast.

  “But I shouldn’t laugh. Your idea isn’t bad.” Dannika poked at her phone. “It’s funny that we’re in a Ryerson Enterprises plane right now. My mind keeps going back to a Winter Art Charity Auction six years ago. I was monitoring the silent auction and Preston Ryerson kept erasing names. We knew his reputation—he couldn’t just bid enough to win, he had to win on his terms—and when my assistant caught him, he treated her with such contempt. It really put me off. Of course, he’s been dead five years at least. But I have to think…what is it about that scene that triggers my memory? Someone standing behind him? Someone he was with? I really should request the guest list. A few thousand will take some time to get through, but it’s better than the non-progress I’ve been making on my own.”

  “Tell me your problems, Dannika, and I will solve them.”

  “Yes, you said that.” Her smile faded and she worried the ring around her knuckle. “I wish everything was that easy. You really felt nothing for those photos?”

  “Do humans?”

  “Yes. Especially men. They’re so visual. And once you become willing to open yourself to the possibility of a new life, a new partner, and you can really see it, your true love just manifests. I’ve seen it time and again.”

  “Manifests meaning you become aware that someone is your soul mate?”

  She nodded.

  All from seeing flat images… It was unfathomable. “Did you see a flat image before you met your husband?”

  “Oh. Eliot?” She relaxed, surprised, and considered the ring for a long moment. “No. But the first time I met him, I knew he was the man I would spend the rest of my life with.”

  “Why did you think this?”

  “I don’t know. It just hit me, an overwhelming feeling that couldn’t be stopped. Like when you and I…” She jolted upright. “I mean, not like our first meeting. Not at all. It was totally different with Eliot.”

  “How?”

  “Uh…well…I was so young. I never realized anything could go wrong.”

  Something was missing. He was missing it. “And you always knew your husband was your soul mate?”

  “Almost immediately. I was playing in a harp trio, and he was repairing the church’s pipe organ where we practiced. One thing led to another and…” She shrugged, a small smile on her face, a steady glow in her heart. “He brought peach roses to our first performance.”

  “And these roses caused your knowing?”

  “No, that was just nice.”

  “You knew Eliot was your soul mate because he was nice?”

  “Oh, the feeling had been building long before the roses. But I finally said yes to our first date.”

  “So you knew before? How did you know?”

  She frowned. Her soul light fluctuated like crazy, burning bright and then darkening to black before creeping back to near-normal again. “I just…I was a different person back then. When I fell in love, it was with my heart wide open, fully embracing my bliss. And now…well. That girl died with Eliot. Sadly.”

  Frustration curled beneath his impatient fingers.

  How did you know, with your limited human senses, that your husband was your soul mate?

  Her answers did not fit the question.

  When Gailen could not properly introduce himself for the dating video, Ciran had stepped in to bridge the gap of understanding. Who could step in for him?

  “I was so young,” she continued as if age mattered at all. “So carefree and easy. I had no driving mission, no idea of what the world needed from me. No idea of what could happen when you make another person your whole world.”

  Dannika leaned forward and rested her hand on his knee. “And that’s why I want you to meet a woman who will love you like I loved Eliot.”

  Frustration seethed. “You are that same woman.”

  “I’m not, though.” She patted his knee, then rested her palm more completely on the hard muscle. “That’s what this all comes down to. I want you to be effortlessly happy with a woman who will love you whole heartedly. A woman who is unburdened by life’s tragedies. If I could give you anything, Ciran, I’d give you effortless, whole-hearted true love.”

  She leaned back. Her hand slipped away again.

  He caught her hand. “I do not want an effortless love.”

  “You don’t know that.” She twisted and switched so she was holding his hand in both of hers and traced the lines of his palm. “Your heart line is long. That means you can’t see the future.”

  “But I can see our souls.”

  “Other warriors have made mistakes.”

  “And other warriors have been overwhelmed by the surface world. They’ve sought to anchor themselves to any bright-souled human.”

  “So I might anchor you—”

  “You,” he pressed her palm to his chest, “are my anchor. You are also my star, my love, and the female I want in my life.”

  Her chest glowed and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes watered and she licked her lips. “Don’t.”

  “I want you as the mother of our young fry.”

  “Ciran.”

  “Only you, Dannika. This is not a sudden declaration. I have watched you. You are loving, kind, and wise. You will be a great mother to our young fry.”

  “My life is flashing before my eyes…” She hardened herself and pulled away. “And so are many other things. Whew!” She fanned herself. “Hot flashes. I’m probably entering early menopause. Then I couldn’t even have kids, and you would be so sorry.”

  “If you cannot have young fry, the Life Tree will heal you as it has healed others.”

  She shook her head at him, then tried again. “I want you to have a happy life. Just not with me. Because no matter what you say, Eliot was my soul mate, and now he’s gone. And that’s it for me. I had my greatest love, and it’s over. Forever.”

  This was the crux for her.

  “Dannika.” He rested both palms on top of hers. The hard metal band pressed into his hand. “Your husband was a good man. I do not doubt you were soul mates. If he were still here, I would not be. Your soul would resonate for him and him only.”

  Moisture shimmered in her eyes. She swallowed hard and sniffed. “I don’t know why I’m so affected. You’re only repeating what I’ve been saying.”

  “Because it is validating for another to affirm you are right. And you are. I do not argue with your love.”

  She sniffed. “But?”

  “Yes. But.” He squeezed her hands. “Eliot has passed into the blacknight sea, where the males gone before him eternally sing of his honors. And you are here. On the surface.” He pressed both palms to his chest again. “Your soul resonates with mine. It does not matter what you or I want. This is what is.”

  She swallowed again. “But why?”

  “I do not know.”

  She choked and sniffed. “You seem to know everything else.”

  “No. But I do know that every moment you deny our connection, your soul darkens. Every time you declare that you are undeserving, you weaken your inner self.”

  “Because this is impossible…”

  “When the sacred islands were full across the ocean, and each city had its own customs, large families were normal. If a warrior’s soul mate died, no laws prevented a warrior from seeking a second.”

  “But did they? Your records are incomplete.”

>   “I cannot be the first warrior in all the millennia to claim a bride who has once loved a human.” He tilted his head in concession. “But if I am, then I hope to make the right decisions now to bring our races into closer alignment.”

  She sniffed again. “I just don’t know.”

  “You doubt our connection. But I do not. Trust in me.” He vowed upon his own soul. “Until all your doubts fade, I will have confidence for both of us. And when you fully accept my claim, you will never doubt again.”

  She took a deep, shuddery breath and let it out. “So I have to embrace those fears and they’ll melt away?”

  “Embrace your strength. Embrace your destiny. Embrace me.”

  Her gaze traveled over his face, from the hairline to his dark brows, across his nose, and centered on his lips. Hers parted and her breath had a catch.

  Her soul glowed with power.

  She wanted him. He wanted her. She cared about his warriors and the future of the mer, and so did he. She listened and thought and worried. And so did he.

  The moment stretched.

  He would follow her to Florida, he would follow her to New York, he would follow her to every land in the world.

  But perhaps he would not have to.

  All she had to do was yield.

  Give in to what her own soul knew that it wanted—needed—and embrace him with a kiss.

  Maybe, just maybe, their souls would connect in a vibrating metal tube that numbed his chest and soared in the clear sky unbelievably high over the vast oceanic blue.

  And then she would leave the surface world and join with him in Atlantis where she belonged.

  The engines abruptly made a new coughing sound, sputtered, growled, and then quit. A strange stillness filled the tube, and his chest pinged from the sudden silence.

  Dannika’s eyes widened and face blanched in fear. “Val?”

  “Hey there.” Their pilot’s voice sounded tight. A second later the intercom kicked on. “You’re going to want to buckle in and assume the crash position.”

  Dannika pushed Ciran to buckle in and connected her own straps, tightening them down. Her shout sharpened with dark-souled fear. “What’s going wrong?”

  “A slight problem with the fuel.”

  “But you refueled in Bermuda!”

  “Yes, and I watched it, and I smelled it, and I tested it. And I need all my concentration now because there’s a slight problem.”

  They coasted over the waves like a bird coming in for a landing.

  This did not seem bad.

  Dannika’s face turned green. She manacled the seat rests and stared out the window. “Oh, no. Ohhhh, no.”

  “What is wrong?”

  She blinked and tore her gaze back to him. Her soul was dark, black with fear, like a hole in her chest. “We’re going to die.”

  Hmm. The flight did not seem substantially different from before aside from the slowly approaching surface. It was infinitely more pleasant without the engine burr. “Is Val unskilled?”

  “No, she has to land with no controls. Or pontoons.” Dannika stared out the window again. “We’re going to hit that water like a concrete wall. It’s going to tear off the bottom. Tear off the tail. Tear us apart.”

  “Dannika.” He reached out his hand. Because of the restraints, he couldn’t reach far or take her hand. All he could do was offer. She had to cross the last distance to him.

  She swallowed, and her face turned less green, more pale. They could just reach their fingertips over the table.

  He clasped her cold knuckles in his. “Nothing will tear us apart.”

  She frowned and then her brows wrinkled and she snorted. A smile crossed her lips. “You are unbelievable.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “But true.”

  And then they veered toward the water.

  Chapter Eight

  She was going to die.

  She was going to die.

  She was going to die.

  And she’d brought Ciran with her.

  Why?

  Dannika clenched his fingertips with one hand and the armrest with the other.

  The Sons of Hercules knew she was on this plane. They knew. That was the only explanation. Sabotage.

  Why hadn’t she taken the threats seriously?

  Why had she thought nothing would happen to her?

  The air whistled, ominous as a train whistle, and the sea loomed. Her vision tunneled on the reflected water.

  Then…

  Rumble-rumble-rumble.

  Chaos.

  The plane bounced across the leaping waves like a stone skipping across a river. Every bounce, the metal shuddered. Pens and plastic cups levitated, and the profile papers fluttered across the interior. The plane dipped left.

  The wing slammed into the rock-hard Atlantic and sheared off.

  Dannika smacked into the window. She let go of Ciran’s hand.

  The world swirled.

  She didn’t lose consciousness, but she went into some kind of fog because the next thing she actively noticed was that they’d stopped moving and Ciran was shaking her.

  “Dannika. Dannika wake up.”

  “I am awake,” she tried to say as she pushed up, but in fact what came out was, “Ama hunga nuggh.”

  He continued to shake her, trying to get to something in her stomach.

  Tough seatbelt.

  “Okay,” she said, and this time it sounded like the real world. “All right. Okay.”

  And then the whole crash flooded back—and she was alive.

  They had survived!

  She gasped for breath, the very wind knocked out by the shock. Their saboteurs had failed! She was alive, and Ciran, yanking at her seat as though to tear the belt out by the bolts, was also alive. She hadn’t taken him with her. Oh, thank goodness. Yes, yes, yes. She sagged into the seat. Her hands trembled. They were all gloriously alive.

  But what about Val?

  Dannika angled to look down the aisle into the cockpit.

  Val was moving.

  Good!

  Oh, they had all survived. Wonderful. Ha ha! Dannika probed her face. No new holes. Everything was where it was supposed to be. She didn’t feel great—her head throbbed and the seatbelt constricted painfully—but she couldn’t complain.

  They had survived.

  Val staggered out of the pilot seat with a duffel bag over one shoulder. Blood gushed from a nasty cut in her forehead. She looked like a horror movie actress. “You’ve got her? You’ve got her out? I can’t believe we survived. Did you get her?”

  “Trying.” Ciran straightened. “How can I release this?”

  “The seatbelt?” Dannika traced the woven fabric to the buckle. “You just…”

  The seatbelt dangled.

  A length of metal had whipped around and slammed across her center like an amusement park lock-ride. The only reason it hadn’t cut her in half was that it had embedded in the chair's frame.

  Val shouldered her bag and grabbed the metal with Ciran. “Ready? Set? Pull!”

  They both yanked.

  Nothing.

  The pressure across her midsection increased as though noticing it made it hurt more. Dannika focused on meditation, shallow breathing, wiggling. Anything to lessen the pain.

  They had time. They’d survived an airplane crash on the ocean! They had…

  Cool, wet liquid soaked her bare feet.

  When had she taken off her sandals? She couldn’t remember.

  Blue water slapped the cracked window.

  The plane creaked. Water sloshed up to her ankles.

  No.

  “The water,” Dannika said. “It’s seeping in.”

  “I do not fear the water,” Ciran said.

  “But, uh, right now, I do.” She wrapped her fingers around the slender rod. It was so small. So skinny. How could it cause so much resistance?

  “We’re going to get you out, Dannika.” Val panted. “As the plane sinks, it’ll fall apart. Are you
one of these mer? Can you breathe?”

  “No.”

  “Right. Okay. Let’s try again.” Val positioned herself around the opposite side of the metal rib to push while Ciran pulled. “Now or never. Really put your legs into it. Ready? Now!”

  She and Ciran strained. Dannika pushed. Sweat dripped down Ciran’s face. His muscled bulged and trembled.

  Water gurgled up to the back of Dannika’s knees. It was a pleasantly cool temperature. Just like a morgue.

  Panic shot through her. Dannika whacked the bar. Her hands ached.

  It didn’t move.

  Val and Ciran both let go.

  Val bent over, panting, and then straightened. “This isn’t working.”

  “But it has to,” Dannika gasped.

  “Wait here.” Val sloshed up the angled aisle to the tail where it was still dry, and forced open drawers. “Not here. Not good. What about…also not here. Did they get the whole emergency kit? I am going to fill their shorts with fire ants and hang them by their short hairs… We have a raft! Must not have expected me to land it, the spittoon-swilling sons of mustard. How about…yes. Ciran!” Val handed him a crowbar.

  Ciran wedged it between the seat and the rib and pushed.

  The chair rattled.

  “The bolts,” Val said. “Underneath. Pop the whole seat free.”

  He forced it under the seat. Something popped.

  Yes!

  The seat did not swing free.

  “I need to get out before the water rises.” Val gripped the emergency door handle. Fear, anger, anguish crossed her face. “If I can help, Ciran…”

  “Go.” His biceps strained to bend tons of metal against the trauma forces that had caused them to collide. “I can only rescue one human. It will be Dannika.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He’s sure,” Dannika promised wildly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I’ll inflate the raft.” Val forced the door.

  It creaked and then popped away, carried by the force of the waves and current. She stepped to the rim. The plane tilted. She splashed out with a shriek.

  The plane abruptly lurched and waves flooded in.

  The current swirled over Dannika’s lap as the plane continued to sink.

 

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