Jewel Of Atlantis. Gena Showalter
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“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 he 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 unsavory 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 dressed 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 central agora—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 expressions of dismay, their cheeks flushed with humiliation as they stared down at the ground.
Gray’s hands flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed. He wanted to cut them loose, at least try to save them, but that wasn’t his mission and he couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself. Maybe, after he found the jewel, he’d come back for them.
Those men are rapists, killers and thieves.
“Then they deserve what they get,” he said, losing all traces of pity. He turned away from them. The scent of fresh, succulent meats taunted his nose, and his mouth watered.