Jewel of Atlantis a-2

by Gena Showalter

  A shudder raked Gray, and all thoughts of pleasurable comas vanished. "That man needs to die simply for ruining my fantasy."

  He will not be as easy to kill as the demon. Nymphs are the greatest warriors in the land, stronger even than dragons, though they never strike first. As long as you leave him alone, you'll both walk away unscathed.

  "I'll remember that." The closer Gray came to the nymph, the taller he realized the creature was. Taller than him, actually. An amazing feat considering Gray stood at six-five and usually towered over everyone he encountered. Keeping his weapon ready just in case, Gray maintained a wide berth as he passed.

  The imposing white-robed male grimaced, glanced over at him, and waved a hand in front of his surprisingly feminine and starkly beautiful face. He barked something in a deep, guttural language.

  "What did he say?" Gray asked as soon as he was a safe distance away. That you reek of ash and death.

  "Well, aren't I the special little boy today." Nearly eaten alive, then aromatically insulted. He sniffed himself, and his lips pursed. Okay, so he did smell a little.

  He delved deeper into the shadows, listening for telltale signs of footsteps or the cock of a weapon. As his mind-companion predicted, the nymph left him alone.

  Only when he'd gone a mile further, however, did he relax his guard. He breathed deeply and let his gaze wander. The beauty here amazed him. Dew sparked like diamonds atop the brilliant green foliage. The whisper of waves created a melodic rhythm, and the scent of pineapple and coconut fragranced the air. Throw in a La-Z-Bpy recliner, a fridge loaded with ice-cold beer, and a dozen dancing hula girls—naked of course—and he'd be in heaven.

  Can yon think of nothing besides women and sex?

  "Sure I can," He jumped over a pile of rocks, never breaking stride. "Why don't you take off all your clothes and tell me who you are and why you're helping me."

  At first her only reaction was a gasp, and he would have given anything to see her expression. To see her . He suspected she was blushing. Would her blush color only her cheeks, or would it spread, delving further, along her collarbone... her breasts?

  He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.

  We can discuss that later, she finally said.

  "You keep saying that, and to be honest, I'm sick of hearing it. I don't even know your name." Silence.

  "A name is such a simple thing. Surely you can tell me yours."

  I can't.

  "Yes, you can. Open your mouth and let sound come out. Try it, you might like it."

  No, I truly cannot tell you. Because, well... because I don't have one, she admitted reluctantly, shamefully.

  His brow furrowed. Not have a name? Everyone and everything had a name. Was she lying, perhaps? No, he decided in the next instant. Her shame was too real. Which left the question: why didn't she have a name?

  Instead of pressing for more details, he said, "Why don't I call you Babe? It's short, easy, and perfect for you."

  I am not an infant, she said, clearly offended. "In your case, the word means hot and sexy."

  ok ohhh. He imagined her smiling dreamily. Still, I think I prefer something less suggestive. You may call me... Jane Doe.

  "Now it's my turn to nix." He chuckled. "I'm not calling you by a name I use for dead female bodies I can't identify."

  She sighed, will you call me Jewel?

  He experienced a jolt of surprise that she had picked that name, since it was the whole reason he was here. Is that why she chose it? he wondered suspiciously. "Jewel it is, then." He rolled the name across his tongue, savoring its taste. He hadn't seen her face, but anyone with such a flat-out sexy voice deserved a flat-out sexy name, and Jewel fit the bill.

  He skirted around a pile of rocks. "Why did you help me, Jewel?"

  She exhaled slowly, and the breathy trickle caressed his nerve endings, tickling like the tip of a feather. I need your help. She sounded defensive. Unsure.

  "Help doing what?"

  Saving me. I've been imprisoned again and I—

  "Again?" He stopped and his backpack slammed into his spine. "What the hell for?"

  For being me. I believe you surface dwellers would say everyone wants a piece of me.

  The scolding edge in her voice made him laugh, and he jolted back into motion. "I'd like to help you, babe, but I'm kind of pressed for time."

  I know. Bitterness hardened her tone. You're after the Jewel of Dunamis.

  The moment she spoke, the muscles in his shoulder tensed. Oh, he wasn't surprised she knew—she could read his thoughts, after all. But hearing her say the words... He didn't want to have to find her and silence her (permanently) because she knew something she wasn't supposed to. Could tell someone she wasn't supposed to.

  He drew in a breath and slowly released it. "What I'm doing here isn't relevant to you."

  I can take you to the jewel, Gray. That's why I picked the name Jewel for myself. I am the only one who can lead you to it.

  "Please. I can find anything, anywhere. That's why my boss chose me for this mission. Besides that, I work alone." He enunciated each word, wanting no misunderstanding of his refusal. "Always."

  Still she persisted. You'll never find it without me. This I swear to you,.

  He shook his head and his bandana fell askew. He shoved the material back into place. "This little baby says I can," he said, patting the GPS system he'd hooked to his belt, the quiet, steady rhythm of its beep soothing.

  She snorted. So that little baby helped you out of the jungle, did it? That little baby helped you defeat a demon? Let me tell you something. You, will not successfully navigate or survive Atlantis without me.

  His fists clenched at the reminder—and the threat, veiled though it was. "You'd say anything to get your way."

  Yes, she replied truthfully, surprising him. I would. In this case, however, I'm not dancing around the truth. We need each other.

  His teeth bared in a scowl, and he kicked a large rock with the steel toe of his boot, sending the white stone skidding down the path. Jewel might have proven herself trustworthy, but he preferred to rely only on himself. People got scared, did stupid things. The last partner OBI had given him abandoned him in a weapons compound at the first sign of trouble, leaving him at the mercy of an infuriated alien warlord. Only Gray's long-standing seduction of Lady Luck helped him escape alive. That, and a two-pound package of C4 explosives.

  If Jewel was the only way to reach the gemstone, he needed her. Period. He'd be wasting valuable time by not going after her. And Gray hated wasted time almost as much as he hated feeling helplessness.

  I feel the same.

  "I can do without the commentary," he told her dryly.

  Don't forget I saved your life. Twice.

  "That's debatable," he said, even though he'd thought the same thing only moments before.

  If she were with him, he could make sure she didn't tell anyone about his mission and compromise him. But if he rescued her and she conveniently "forgot" to help him find Dunamis, if she tried to harm or stop him... He sighed.

  I would never harm you.

  He was going to liberate her, and he knew it. No use trying to talk himself out of it. He'd save her and force her to help him, if need be. And he'd do it for reasons that had nothing to do with that I'm-waiting-for-you-to-find-and-fuck-me voice.

  I am not!

  At her outrage, he lost some of his anger. To be honest, he was looking forward to seeing Jewel and hearing her voice in person, to coming face-to-face with the woman who could read his mind.

  The cobbled path twisted sharply to the left, scattering his shadowy cover. He quickened his pace until he maneuvered back into the deepest darkness. Up ahead, the road stretched for miles.

  Maybe he'd get lucky and stumble upon a massage parlor. "Do I have to walk this entire road to get to you?"

  At first, she said nothing. Then, You're going to help me? "We're going to help each other. Isn't that the deal?"

  Ye
s. Yes! Oh, thank you. You, won't be sorry.

  Joy and shock and excitement radiated from her words, and he imagined her dancing... wherever the hell she was, wearing nothing but a skimpy black leather halter top and a smile.

  Another bout of silence erupted, before she humphed and said, I'm wearing a long white robe that covers me from head to toe, if you must know.

  "Way to ruin the fantasy and cause Private Happy to hide." He tried to sound stern, but his amusement seeped through. He'd never had this much fun teasing a woman. "I think we picked the wrong name for you. I think I should call you Prudence."

  Do it and your private Happy will receive a proper introduction to my knee.

  A rich, husky laugh escaped him. "Ah, Pru, we've got to loosen you up a bit. Show you the advantages of being wicked. I'll add that to my 'To Do' list."

  Yes, well, you can be here in two days, she said, changing the subject. "Two days?" He so did not want to endure another two days in this hellhole. Just go around the far hill, past the sheep farm—

  "Over the river and through the woods, then down the yellow brick road. I know." He exhaled. "One thing at a time, babe. One thing at a time." Maybe two days wasn't such a bad thing. It would give him a chance to rest up, rebuild his strength. "I'm still needing that hot meal, bath, and soft bed."

  Oh, yes. of course. The sheep farm has everything you need.

  Three hours later, the darkness waned and Gray reached the farm. He performed a perimeter check and discovered the owner asleep in his bed. The man/thing possessed the top half of a human, and the bottom half of a chestnut horse, complete with tail and hooves. Dear God.

  Don't hurt him, please.

  Silently Gray withdrew a tranq-filled gun from his backpack and with a quick shot to the horse-man's neck, injected him. The creature jerked, then stilled completely. This was the only tranquilizer Gray had brought, and he hated to use it now. At this point, however, he would have injected his own father if it meant eating a hot meal without interruption.

  When Gray was assured the creature wouldn't awaken for hours yet, he strode into the kitchen and dropped his backpack on the freshly polished wood floor. The place reminded him of a country cottage, complete with straw beds, wood-burning stove, and fresh, home-cooked scents.

  He filled a clay basin with water, stripped to the skin, and washed himself from head to toe, taking care around his wounds. He slathered those with antibiotic ointment before slapping bandages over them.

  Be gentler, please. You're making me cringe. He arched a brow. "Can you see me?" Only through your eyes.

  How prim she sounded, he thought, smiling, just before he looked down. She gasped.

  He chuckled. "I think General Happy likes you." Yes, well... I thought his—its—name was private.

  "He seems to be the one in command lately, so he's come up in the ranks. Got a nice promotion." His throat clenched as he fought to contain his guffaws of laughter. "Wishing I'd look down again?"

  She remained silent, and his smile grew.

  Clean at last, he redressed in his mud-caked fatigues. He hated wearing dirty clothes, especially now that he was clean, but he wouldn't leave them behind. After he devoured a bowl of fruit and nuts and a plate of some sort of meat pie, he pilfered a royal blue robe and a yellow toga from the creature's closet. He

  slipped the first over his head and shoved the second in his bag.

  "Why do centaurs wear robes?"

  They don't. The clothing is for visiting sirens.

  Sirens. Women who lured men to their deaths by singing. Of course. He should have known. You, can sleep here. The centaur will not mind.

  "I prefer to find a spot in the woods." Solitude was always safer. A long length of rope caught his eye, and Gray stuffed it into his backpack. "He wouldn't happen to have bullets lying around, would he?"

  No. No bullets.

  "It was worth a shot." He hiked his way back to the cobbled path, feeling more energized than he had in days. Darkness had faded even more, making way for a bright golden glow. Flowers opened their petals, carpeting the ground with all shades of pastels, from the barest lavender, to the daintiest yellow. Trees swayed with renewed life.

  He spied several similarly robed people, their faces covered by their cloaks. Again, his first instinct was to whip out his knife and strike.

  The sirens are as harmless as the nymph. Simply block their voices from your mind,.

  Gray strode past the small group, and his gaze met a woman's gaze. She was pretty in a delicate, protect-me way, with pale skin and mossy green eyes. Despite her prettiness, he felt not a shred of attraction toward her. She opened her mouth, about to speak to him, and he quickened his speed, not about to let the sensuality of her voice lure him to his death.

  When he was out of hearing distance, he said to Jewel, "You told me everyone here wants a piece of you. Now tell me why."

  I'm special, she evaded.

  He opened his mouth to press her for more details, then closed it with a snap. She sounded so forlorn, on the brink of tears, and that knowledge unbalanced him for some reason. Made his stomach twist into several painful knots. Made his chest tighten and ache. She'd been impudent and bold up to this point.

  "Do they hurt you? These people who hold you captive?" I don't want to talk about this. Her voice wavered.

  Which meant, yes, they did. Fury pounded through him, scalding hot and blistering. Gray had done many unfavorable things in his life, all in the name of patriotism, but he had never hurt a woman. He would if he had to, yes, had even considered silencing Jewel on his own, but he did not like the thought of anyone else hurting her. She seemed soft and delicate to him, in need of protection. Anyone who hurt a woman like that deserved pain. Lingering, torturous pain.

  He'd already decided to spring Jewel from her prison, but his determination intensified, reaching new heights. No way in hell would he abandon her now. He'd save her or die trying.

  There will be no dying on your part. Promise me.

  "Of course there won't. You might have missed the memo, but I'm invincible."

  Yeah. Right.

  Another hour passed, this one in silence as they each mulled their own thoughts. All the while he climbed up a steep, dangerous mountain, fast losing his bout of energy.

  Finally—God, finally—Jewel uttered the magic words his tired, exhausted body longed to hear. You'll be safe here.

  Gray immediately tossed his bag onto the ground and made camp. Only when he lay atop his bedroll, the stolen yellow toga acting as his pillow, did he allow himself to drink in the scenery. He was perched atop the highest ledge of the mountain, overlooking a breathtaking vista of trees and flowers, and a waterfall that glistened like liquid pearls. So clear it was, he could see the mossy bottom.

  Exotic birds with bright, colorful feathers soared around him, calling to one another in a symphony of squawks and cries. This was, quite possibly, the most beautiful sight he'd ever beheld.

  Above him arched the crystal dome, so close he had only to reach out to touch the glistening, jagged fixture. Seawater churned in every direction, splashing one way, then another, before dancing away. Foam and mist lingered determinedly as schools of fish swam past.

  I'll warn you if anyone approaches. Sleep well, Gray.

  "I won't let myself sleep deeply. I'll know if anyone comes close to me."

  Whatever you say. A soft melody drifted through his mind, Jewel's sexy voice lulling him to deep, deep sleep.

  His eyelids grew heavy against the dawning brightness, and he yawned. Why fight it? Slowly he surrendered to nothingness, one final thought drifting through his mind: if today was only the beginning, getting to the end was going to be one hell of a ride.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Out of paradise and straight into purgatory," Gray muttered as he maneuvered through a thick, cackling crowd of... people. He used the term loosely. Around him meandered bull-faced men (with actual fur!), women with skin that glowed and glittered—and who also dre
ssed in scanty, see-through robes with more cleavage than a Playboy centerfold (which he only flipped through for the articles). They reminded him of the siren he'd encountered last night, pretty and delicate.

  Giant, one-eyed Cyclopses shook the ground as they walked, and griffins, half lion, half bird, raced on all fours, growling and snapping at each other, their tails whipping from side to side. Overhead, birds flew— no. Not birds, he realized. They possessed grotesquely misshapen faces, female torsos with large—very large—breasts, and the body of a bird. Talons, wings and all. Harpies, that's what they were. With

  beautiful breasts. Had he mentioned those?

  He was truly hard up if female birds were turning him on. Maybe it was time to renew his subscription to Playboy. For the articles.

  There were a few centaurs, half man, half horse like the sheep farmer, and each of them carried long, thick clubs. A pack of giggling horned children darted past him, throwing rocks at each other as they ran.

  Jewel had navigated him down the mountain and into this—whatever it was. Town? Freak fest? He'd already checked in with home base, and now gripped his knife, careful to keep the dark metal hidden within the folds of his robe. Heat stretched from the crystal dome above like a too-tight rubber band, ready to crack and break at the first sign of pressure. Still, he was glad for his robe and hood. They blended him into the crowd quite nicely. And if anyone sensed his human blood, they gave no notice.

  You made it, Jewel said, breathless with excitement. You really made it. The last was barely a whisper. The closer he'd drawn to this area, the more desperate she'd become for him to reach her.

  "Finally," he muttered. "Where am I?" A salty breeze at last stirred, whisking his hood around his face. This is the Centralagora—market—for the Outer City.

  Only then did he notice the vendors selling their wares. Gleaming linens, sparkling jewelry and—slaves. His eyes widened. A man with green scales instead of skin and red-rimmed eyes paced in front of a line of naked humanoid men, shouting about the merits of buying them, he'd bet. What he wouldn't give to speak Atlantean. The slaves were well muscled and streaked with dirt and whip marks, and they each wore an expression of dismay, their cheeks flushed with humiliation as they stared down at the ground.