In seconds, the leading edge of the spiral of light returned to the bedroom, but with one startling difference. The light swirled in a whirling tunnel of water. The tube of liquid-maybe three or four inches thick-curved and swooped around the room. Around her, where she stood, frozen, her mouth hanging open.

Then it returned to Conlan and surrounded him, seeming to caress his body for a moment and then vanish into his skin.

Except he wasn't wet at all.

She snapped her mouth shut, sure she looked like an idiot, especially when his smile turned into a laugh.

d.a.m.n, but he was seriously hot when he laughed. Her nerves, frayed already from the overdose of testosterone and, okay, the sheer s.e.xual tension in the room, shredded even further.

She leaned back against the wall and rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to get rid of the goose b.u.mps. "No, I don't usually do the expected," she said, trying to return to the normality of their previous conversation. "You should hear the things my sister used to do to me to keep me from blurting out her secrets in front of boys. Neat trick with the water, by the way."

He eased himself back down in the chair, keeping his distance, clearly trying to put her at ease. "Thanks. I can do balloon animals, too."

"I just bet you can."

He grinned at her. "I never had a sister. It was just me and Ven. Do you have any other sisters? Or brothers?"

"No, just the two of us. Mom and Dad died when we were young, and we developed an 'us against the world' mentality. The foster homes..." She bit her lip. "We learned not to love people. You love somebody and they leave."

She shook off the melancholy. It's not like he wanted to hear this stuff. Except, he looked interested. He felt like he was interested.

"Quinn is-well, she's kind of fragile. I always took care of her, even though she was a little older." It didn't really make sense to share her family history while backed against the wall, so she cautiously took a step forward and perched on the edge of the bed.

Ready to jump away from him if he came near her.

Or was that ready to jump on him if he came near her?

She ruthlessly shoved the thought out of her mind. No thinking about s.e.x, no thinking about s.e.x, no - "Thinking about s.e.x," he said.

"What?" she gasped, stunned to hear him speak her thoughts. Except maybe she shouldn't be surprised, given how they'd shared each other's emotions. Still, she could feel her face flaming again. One of the joys of being a redhead was the tendency to blush like a house on fire. Didn't exactly make for a poker face.

He clasped his hands, resting them on his lap, then looked up to meet her gaze. "We need to talk about this. The intensity. Of the attraction between us, which is intense. It's really..." He paused, cleared his throat. "Intense."

She laughed a little. "Yeah. I get that you think it's intense. Well, it's not like I go around jumping every hunky foreign prince who comes my way. Not that any royalty hangs around my neighborhood, but you know what I mean. Intense."

That smug, all-male smile returned to his face, which, in spite of every feminist principle she'd ever known, somehow made her want to put her mouth on him.

All over him.

A wave of heat washed over her, and she groaned. "Conlan, I don't know what this is about. Could it be-could it be some kind of side effect of reading your emotions? Maybe I'll react this way to every Atlantean I meet."

He immediately tensed in his chair, leaning forward, the hands clasped in his lap going white-knuckled. "For whatever reason, Riley," he ground out through gritted teeth, "I don't seem to be able to handle the thought of you reacting this way to any other male, Atlantean or otherwise."

She watched him as he visibly fought for control, his nostrils flaring as he breathed deeply, white lines deepening at the corners of his mouth. The thought that she did that to him-made him lose control, even a little-was, oddly enough, turning her on.

A lot .

Especially since she had the feeling he wasn't the type to lose control all that much. She'd seen inside his mind, after all. Rigid control, duty, and honor. Not a lot of spontaneity or footloose happiness.

And the pain. Oh, she'd never forget the pain.

"Conlan, not that I encourage this tree swinging and chest beating, but I think-I think it's not a problem," she ventured. "After all, I kinda forgot that your brother was just in the room. He even looks like you, and he must have a lot of the same super powered Atlantean DNA, right?"

Conlan smiled a little and nodded, still clenching his hands together.

"Well, there was nothing. Zip," she said, shrugging. "I mean, he's great-looking and all-"

Conlan made that strange growling noise low in his throat again, and she held up her hands, palms out. "I meant to say that he's okay-looking and all, but I didn't have any urge to strip his clothes off and lick him all over or anything," she finished, smiling.

Then she realized what she'd just said, by implication.

Oh, c.r.a.p.

Conlan hadn't missed it, either, if the expression on his face was anything to go by. The look that said he wanted to lick her right back.

Heat spiked through her center, making her actually clench her legs together against the wetness that threatened to spill out.

Okay, this is bad. Thoughts of hunky prince licking anybody-er, anything-are off-limits.

He shoved a hand through that delicious black hair of his and shot up out of the chair. Then he started doing a little pacing of his own. "Riley, until we understand why we're reacting like this to each other, it's perhaps better if we stay away from each other."

"Yeah, okay, that's fine. In fact, why don't you take me back to my house-or just call me a cab, a cab would be good, and I'll get out of your hair," she said, inexplicably hurt by his having voiced the same thing she'd been thinking only moments before.

He stopped pacing and turned to stare down at her. "I'm sorry, but you're not going anywhere."

Hurt changed in a flash to p.i.s.sed off. "What do you mean? Look, buddy, you may have the right to order your Atlantean flunkies around, but I'm an American citizen. You've got zero rights where I'm concerned."

He strode over to the bed and sat next to her before she could move. "It's not about rights, aknasha . It's about your own protection. The vampires who attacked us at your house-why were they there? Were they after us? I suspect so, given the nature of the attack."

Taking her hands in his, he continued. "But now they know you live in that house. They're going to be wondering what connection you have to us. You won't be safe there anymore."

She looked down at their hands, wondering if he even realized that his thumb was caressing the back of her hand. Wondering how such a small gesture could make her bones turn to liquid.

Suddenly afraid that he was using some sort of Atlantean version of mind control on her.

She yanked her hands away from his. "So what you're saying is that you've ruined my life."

"No," he said softly. "I think what I'm saying is that you've complicated mine."

Scooting back from him on the bed, she tried to be rational. "All right. Let's back up. Tell me what I need to know about Atlantis. Tell me why these vampires are after you. Tell me what aknasha means, and why you're so freaked out that I might be one. I work better with information, so give me some already."

Conlan smiled, and some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. "Information is definitely something I can give you. You deserve it. First, my homeland. Atlantis . It would take years for me to tell you about Atlantis. Much of the myth, some of the legend, and even some of the fantasy is true."

"But no gills?" Riley couldn't help but return his smile, her own a little mischievous.

"Definitely no gills. We are much like you."

"So, human, then, with special powers?"

He shook his head. "No, not human. A cousin to your species, certainly. Closer to humankind than to the shape-shifters. Far different from the undead. We lived in harmony with your kind for many thousands of years."

"And then you sank below the water, and now you live in a bubble, right?" Riley knew she was being flippant, but a girl had limits as to how much she could absorb in one night.

That unbelievably sensuous smile quirked the edges of his lips, and he leaned back against the headboard of the bed. "No, no bubbles. No mermaids, either, before you ask. Hollywood movies aren't really a source of historical fact, Riley, in spite of what my brother might think."

"Hey! I loved mermaids when I was a little girl. I wanted to grow up and have a dolphin for a pet and swim with my fish tail and the whole thing," she said indignantly.

He leaned forward, suddenly intent. "You were at the beach tonight, after experiencing traumatic events, instead of retreating to your home. Why was that?"

Suddenly uncomfortable, Riley shifted on the bed, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know," she admitted. "I've always been that way. I go to the ocean for solace, for solitude. For healing."

The starkness of her words hung in the silence between them for a long moment, and then he leaned back against the headboard again. "That may be important, Riley. I don't know why, but it feels like something important. Maybe Alaric will know."

The name sounded familiar, and she squirmed a bit. "Alaric? Is he the scary one who looked at me like I was a bug stuck to the end of a pin? I kinda threatened to hurt him."

His eyes widened, and then he grinned. "Oh, I'd give half the royal treasury to have seen that."

Riley laughed, trying not to freak out about a guy who calmly said things like "half the royal treasury." Holy c.r.a.p .

He raised one eyebrow, and seemed to get tense all over again. "You're not going to tell me that you thought he was great-looking, too?"

"He looked like a convicted felon," she said flatly. "He made me want to call for backup. So, no worries, not even the slightest hint of an attraction there."

He leaned forward so quickly she almost didn't see him move and lifted one of her hands to his mouth, kissed it briefly, and released it. "Thank you for that, Riley. I don't understand why-and I have to be honest, I don't like it one bit-but I seem to have a need to know that you're not attracted to any of my warriors. To any other males at all."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, Conlan, I know you might think otherwise, because of the way I reacted to you, but it's not like I'm some kind of nymphomaniac."

"And that would be bad because..." he drawled, the gleam coming back to his eyes, and the intriguing blue-green flame in his pupils flashing at her.

"Don't be a pervert," she said, laughing. "Okay, and that's another thing. Why do your eyes get that blue-green flicker in the middle of them, like right now?"

He sat up fast, ramrod straight. "My eyes do what, exactly?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to upset you. It's just that your pupils are so black, until you get that blue-green flame in them. I was a little bit curious."

Conlan shot up off the bed. When he turned around to face her, she noticed that his eyes had gone black again. When he spoke, his voice was icy. "It's very late, Riley. I need to discuss strategy with Alaric before I rest. You should also get some rest, because we'll undoubtedly be leaving early in the morning."

He strode toward the door, leaving her gaping in his wake. "What the h.e.l.l just happened? Do you Atlanteans have split personalities or something? And why do you think I'm going anywhere with you in the morning? You still haven't explained anything to me, Prince Conlan, or whoever you are," she said, temper rising.

He stopped at the doorway, looked back at her. "I am Conlan, high prince of Atlantis," he said, voice flat. "I need explain myself to no one. The Warriors of Poseidon have been the defenders of humanity for more than eleven thousand years, and I have been their leader for centuries."

He yanked the door open, took a step, then stopped. "My reaction to a human female, aknasha or no, changes nothing."

Before she could even begin to think of a response blistering enough to peel strips off his hide, he was gone, slamming the door shut behind him.

"You-you jacka.s.s !" she yelled, jumping up to run for the door. But before she could reach it, she heard the unmistakable click of a lock. Momentum carried her the rest of the way and she yanked on the handle, but only confirmed what she'd known when she heard the noise.

That arrogant, overbearing, dictatorial sc.u.mbag of a prince had locked her in the room .

Oh, he was so totally going to pay.

Chapter 15.

Conlan leaned back against the door to Riley's room, shaken more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. His eyes got a blue-green flame in them ?

When he wasn't channeling the elements-or any power at all?

Oh, he was screwed.

Something was seriously wrong with this scenario. Eyes didn't display the flame of Poseidon except when the person whose skull the eyes happened to be stuck in channeled power. Called the elements.

Not when sitting around chatting with a female.

A human female.

Unless... The thought that had driven ice through his veins flashed back into his head, refusing to be ignored. His mother's bedtime stories about ancient Atlantean lords and their ladies. Stories of fierce battles and enduring love.

Tales of the legendary gift of the soul-meld between an Atlantean and his mate, which branded a warrior's heart and soul as surely as Poseidon's mark branded his body.

It was impossible. The soul-meld was a legend, a fable. A fanciful bedtime story. Nothing more. Soul-melding did not exist.

Like empaths don't exist, right?

Oh, d.a.m.n . He needed Alaric to figure this one out. Soon. As soon as the Trident was retrieved. After they'd figured out why the h.e.l.l those vamps had attacked, and how to find the Trident in the first place.

Or even what to do about Reisen.

Yeah. All the subjects he'd forgotten to raise with Alaric and the Seven earlier.

He was screwed .

At dawn the next morning, Conlan woke from a fractured sleep to the smell of coffee and the sound of low, male laughter. For a minute or two, before he moved from the bed he'd fallen into, exhausted, late the night before, he lay completely still, examining what he was feeling. Actually, what he wasn't feeling. It was a kind of absence. The lack of something-what!

His eyes snapped open as the truth came to him. What he'd felt-what was missing-was rage.

Fury.

He'd needed the flames of anger to defeat helplessness. To goad him into living for the long years that he'd been Anubisa's captive. He'd fed those flames with memories of his parents and thoughts of his brother and Atlantis when despair or pain threatened to overpower the rage.

But now, in spite of the vampire threat, and even in spite of Reisen's treason, he'd let loose of some inner core of fury that had sh.o.r.ed up his foundation for so long. His thoughts turned inward, examining, focusing on the building blocks of his psyche.