Jewel Of Atlantis. Gena Showalter
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apart from the Atlantean races as she was, she’d never had a true friend before. But she’d wanted one. Gods, she’d wanted one. At times, the ache had been so fierce, it had almost been a living entity.
“That is not how our rela—” Sharp pains shot through her calf like a thousand knives cutting through bone. She jerked and cried out.
Gray’s arm tightened around her, and they ceased moving forward, his leg movements the only thing keeping them above water. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, concern in the undercurrents of his voice.
“Just a cramp,” she gritted out, her leg already relaxing.
Expelling a relieved breath, he jolted back into motion, his muscles bunching and straining. “You’re doing great. But listen to me this time, and stay still.” He spit out a mouthful of water. “I’ve done this kind of rescue before, and with a two-hundred-pound man no less. Featherweight that you are, I can get you to shore, no problem.”
“I will help.”
“Damn it, Jewel.”
She forced her arms to swim more quickly.
“Stubborn woman,” he muttered. “Have it your way.”
“I will. Thank you.”
His legs kicked out and brushed hers. His free arm pushed at the water and skimmed over hers. Because of the danger, such an innocent contact shouldn’t have affected her, but it did. Currents of something dark and light, hot and sweet, floated through her blood as swiftly and surely as the river flooded around her, giving her added strength.
“Thank you for coming for me,” she said, swallowing more liquid. The words whispered from her, soft and raspy, husky with her gratitude.
“I wish I could say it was my pleasure, but so far the adventure has sucked like a Hoover.”
She laughed heartily.
The water slapped as if he’d whipped his head to face her. She wished there were at least a kernel of light to reveal his actions and features, but the darkness was simply too heavy.
He squeezed her waist. “I didn’t expect you to get that. Do you even know what a Hoover is?”
“Well, yes. I know a lot of things about the surface.”
“You ever traveled there?”
She heard his true question: do Atlantean creatures travel to the surface? “I’ve never been, no. None of us have. It’s forbidden, not to mention impossible. I’ve only seen it in my visions.” Visions of him. She’d wondered why she’d been gifted with glimpses of his life, but the answer had never come. Finally she’d stopped wondering and just accepted the fact that he was meant to be part of her life. They were connected.
He huffed out a moist breath. “Impossible how?”
“Just impossible,” she hedged. “I admit I’ve always dreamed of visiting the surface.” She couldn’t hide her edge of wistfulness. “You have so many fascinating things there.”
“Yeah? Like what?” Fatigue was beginning to layer his words, making them drag slightly. “Exactly what does Prudence Merryweather find fascinating? This I’ve got to hear. Wait. The water is becoming more shallow,” he said. “We’re almost to shore. See if your feet touch.”
Her legs sank toward the bottom until her feet hit a soft, mossy foundation. “Yes! I can touch.” Limbs almost too weak to support her, she labored onto the sand, trudging step by step.
Finally she collapsed atop a soft bed of foliage. Water poured from her as she smoothed sopping hair out of her eyes. Gray dropped beside her. The ragged sound of their breathing blended with the gentle rush of the river. Gods, they had made it.
They had escaped the demons.
Several minutes passed in raw silence. She could have closed her eyes and drifted to sleep—would have drifted to sleep, if Gray hadn’t picked up their conversation where they’d left off.
“What do you find fascinating about the surface?” He was only a little winded. “This land of yours is amazing. It’s littered with evil incarnate, true, but the sheer beauty of the terrain is awe-inspiring.”
She shivered as a wave of cool air brushed her. “I’d trade every flower and tree for the chance to sit inside a theater and watch a movie. To anchor myself in a hoodless car and soar down the road, the wind in my hair. To wiggle on a waterbed and smoke a cigarette. To taste a—”
“Whoa, there.” He chuckled, the sound rich and smooth with his amusement. “Back it up a minute. Waterbed? You live in water, in case you hadn’t noticed, and you think a waterbed is cool? And why the hell would you want to smoke a cigarette? They taste like a demon smells.”
Her cheeks heated with a blush, and she was suddenly glad for the darkness. Gray hadn’t thought cigarettes tasted so horrible the night she’d seen one of his women smoke one. He’d just finished making love to her, and the two had been lying on a waterbed, the sides lapping around their sweat-soaked limbs. The woman’s pretty features had been totally relaxed, euphoric even, as the smoke wafted around her. Gray had appeared equally sated, not the least disgusted by the supposedly ashy fumes.
“I’m waiting for some type of explanation, Smoky Smokerson.”
“People seem to enjoy them, that’s all. And as for the waterbed, well, I’d like to know how it feels to lie on a bed of liquid and never sink.”
“They’re hell on the back.”
“Who says I’d be sleeping?” she said primly.
He snorted, and she had to curb the urge to kick him. Did he think she couldn’t tempt a man? That she couldn’t seduce one into loving her body madly and passionately?
“My guess, Prudence, is that you’d be bundled up in a neck-to-ankle body stocking, complete with chastity belt and semiautomatic trained on any man stupid enough to try and get into your panties.”
“That’s not true! I’d have a lover with me. And we’d be naked,” she added with a defensive edge.
“Would you now?” He drawled the words slowly, dragging out each syllable, making her feel achy inside. “And what would the two of you be doing, being naked and all?”
She knew Gray liked to linger over a woman’s body, taking his time and learning every nuance, every scent. Gods knew how many times she’d seen him do it, wishing it were her he was pleasuring. She drew on that knowledge now, the only sensual knowledge she possessed.
Trying for a casual tone, she said, “I’d caress my hands over his chest and back, of course, while he kissed me. With tongue. His fingers would slide between my legs, sinking inside me, moving in and out while I arched my hips. And I’d be so, so wet. And when I screamed his name, begging him to fuck me—”
“Did you just drop the F bomb?” he asked, incredulous, cutting her off.
“Yes. He’d lick my breasts, sucking my nipples into his mouth, and impale me with his thick, hard penis. I would wrap my legs—”
“That’s enough!” Gray’s body couldn’t take much more. He was rock hard and tense, ready to explode. Just from her words. When had that ever happened? He cleared his throat and flopped to his back. “Christ, I get the picture. And I’m seriously considering renaming you Blaze Champagne.”
There, she thought smugly. Now he’d never again call her Prudence or assume she wouldn’t know what to do with a man in bed. “What kind of name is Blaze Champagne?” She already knew the answer. She wanted him to say it, though, to hear the words aloud.
“The naughty kind reserved for porn stars, that’s what. Fuck me, indeed.”
A wide smile lifted her lips. “Have I offended your innocent ears? If so, you can just fuck off,