Atlantis Rising by Alyssa Day

actions. I merely described a possible threat to our warriors. If more humans have the capacity to incapacitate us with emotional telepathy—”
    He didn’t mention that he’d left out a hell of a lot in the telling. There was no threat to Atlantean security regarding his fierce attraction to her.
    Admit it, attraction is a tame word. Try overwhelming, ball-breaking lust.
    He blew out a breath. Even princes were allowed some privacy, right?
    Ven shook his head in disgust, then resumed pacing and cursing. Conlan tuned him out after he heard something about “spawn of a dung beetle” in early Portugese and turned to Alaric, who had remained uncharacteristically silent during Conlan’s explanation of the evening’s events.
    Alaric speaking was dangerous enough.
    Alaric silent was deadly.
    The priest stared at him, unblinking, seeming almost inhuman in his stillness. If ever a man had seemed unsuited to the priesthood, Conlan would have named Alaric. Matching Conlan in height, Alaric’s heavily muscled form suited the lethal menace in his eyes.
    No schoolboy would ever seek him out to tell tales of childish mischief in the confessional, for certain. And yet it was rumored that more than one woman, seduced by Alaric’s dark beauty, had harbored hopes of convincing the dark priest to . . . bend . . . his vow of celibacy.
    Conlan nearly laughed at the thought. It was well known that Poseidon would strip the powers from a priest who breached his celibacy vow. Power was Alaric’s only mistress; no female could come between him and his quest for ever more of it.
    As if reading his prince’s mind, Alaric bared his teeth in a cold pretense of a smile. “I agree with Conlan.”
    “Look, I— what ?” The agreement threw him off.
    “You heard me,” Alaric returned, face expressionless. “You want to follow this human to her home to ensure her safety. You demand we transport her to Atlantis as your . . . guest. I agree with you.”
    Ven exploded. “Great. Now I have two of you out of your freaking minds. I’d have expected better of you, Temple Rat.”
    Alaric’s gaze shifted smoothly to Ven, and something whispering of deadly danger shimmered in his eyes. “I am high priest to the sea god now, Lord Vengeance. It is time we put away childish . . . endearments.”
    Conlan shifted to stand between the two men. The last thing he needed was his two most trusted advisors bashing each other’s brains out. “Calm down, Ven. You’ve gotta be a role model for my warriors, right?”
    Ven snorted. “I am a role model in all things that matter. But standing emotionless and icy in the face of seriously deep trouble is not my style. I’m more a ‘take names and kick ass’ kind of guy.”
    He paused for a moment, slamming his daggers back in their sheaths. “And agreeing that we take a human to Atlantis? Especially now , when the Trident is in the hands of the enemy? I repeat, you’re both out of your fucking minds.”
    Shaking his head, Ven nonetheless stepped back and away, sweeping an arm out as if to urge Alaric to continue.
    Alaric shrugged. “Knowledge is power. The human has powers that are unknown to us. If she truly can convey emotion over the mind path, then she must be studied and analyzed for the source of that ability.”
    Ven started to interrupt, but Alaric held up a hand. “Not to mention the potential enormity of a weapon with the power to bring a warrior of such strength and mental shielding as Conlan to his knees,” he said, his tone clinically dispassionate.
    Conlan made a growling sound low in his throat, surprising himself and, from the looks of it, everyone around him. “You would dissect Riley in a laboratory, if you believed that was the only way to understand her gifts, wouldn’t you?”
    Alaric raised one eyebrow. “ Riley? You know her name?”
    Fury rising, Conlan clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, fighting to regain enough composure to speak. “You. Will. Not. Touch.