Heart Of Atlantis Read Free

attacking vampire with such preternatural speed that even Alaric almost didn’t see him do it.
    He saw the vamp’s head roll across the ground, though.
    “We have to help them,” Quinn said, and she started to run.
    Alaric did not waste a single breath arguing with her. He simply followed her.
    Protected her.
    Until someone else screamed, and Quinn skidded to a halt so abruptly that he nearly knocked her over.
    “The tiger is down,” someone cried out, anguish raw in her voice.
    “Jack? Jack!” Quinn shouted his name and changed course. Alaric knew that if Jack were killed, Quinn might not survive it. The shifter and Quinn had fought the rebellion together for long years, as close friends and powerful allies.
    But they’d never been lovers. Or so Alaric hoped, but doubts stalked him some days with caustic thoughts. Thoughts he only wrestled with in the deepest reaches of the dark, when nightmares donned their garments and walked the surfaces of mortal minds.
    He knew that
Jack
loved
her
. That was hard enough to accept.
    He shook his mind free of mental meanderings as they reached Jack, and Quinn collapsed down to her knees on the cold, rocky ground and fell on top of the blood-soaked tiger.
    “Jack!” she screamed, over and over and over, like a hammer beating at the fragile bulwarks of Alaric’s sanity. “Save him. You have to save him.”
    Alaric called to Poseidon to lend him the magic he would need to heal the dying tiger. He threw his head back, closed his eyes, and strained every muscle and tendon as he forced his body to hold power beyond measure. He turned to Jack and thrust the power into the tiger’s body, only to have it slam back into him in a vicious backlash that knocked him off his feet and smashed him to the ground.
    Alaric could heal nearly any wound, but even he, high priest of the sea god himself, could not retrieve those who had gone past the gates of death. Now it only remained to destroy the woman he loved. He drew in a deep breath, in spite of the acrid scents of battle, bile, and blood that infused the air.
    “I’m sorry, Quinn. He’s dead.”

    As the rebel fighters who were still capable of walking drew near, Quinn screamed her denial and threw her body over Jack, as if to protect him from the Reaper’s merciless gaze. But death came to all mortals—even Atlanteans—and Alaric’s only thought now was to remove her from this place before their enemies returned. He met Daniel’s gaze and realized that the vampire was experiencing Quinn’s anguish through the blood bond, even as Daniel held a semiconscious Serai in his arms.
    “I cannot help her,” Daniel said quietly, his face grim.
    “We must leave before they return. We’ve lost more than half of our fighters, and I have no idea what reserves of soldiers they can call upon.”
    Alaric crouched down next to Quinn. “You can’t stay here. You know Jack wouldn’t have wanted it,” he said, touching her arm.
    “No, leave me alone!” She wrenched away from him, but then grabbed his hand and pulled it toward Jack’s prone form.
    “Wait. You can heal him,” she said imploringly. “You healed me before. I’ve seen you heal lots of people. You can do it. Fix him.”
    “He’s gone, Quinn. I can heal grievous wounds, it is true, and you know I would do anything for you, but I cannot heal death. Only the gods can do that.”
    Quinn screamed again, tears rolling, unheeded, down her face; sorrow pouring forth from a wellspring too deep to be denied.
    Serai, conscious now but still in Daniel’s arms, suddenly spoke. “He’s not gone,” she said, and icy chills chased each other down Alaric’s spine at the sound of her magic-drenched voice. “He’s almost gone, but a small part of him remains.”
    Alaric stared at her and raised his hands as if to block any attack Serai might try. She made a dismissing motion and ignored him, focused entirely on Quinn and Jack.
    “Put me down. There next to Jack,” Serai said to