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Alyssa Day - Warriors of Poseidon 2 - Wild Hearts in Atlantis (Wild Thing anth) WILD HEARTS IN ATLANTIS

A Warriors of Poseidon Story

Alyssa Day

One

Bastien surveyed the battlefield, jaw rhythmically clenching and un­clenching.

"Strategy is everything in war. Watch and learn, youngling. "

His opponent narrowed his eyes and studied the field. "Proceed at your own peril, warrior. Know that I will crush you into the ashes of ignominious defeat. "

"Oh, for the gods' sake, will you two get on with it, already? I have dibs on the next game, and I have a feeling air hockey and I are going to be very good friends," Denal said, from where he sprawled out on the long, low couch. "You're going down to Loser Town, ladies, so just hurry it up, already. "

Bastien laughed. "Damn, Justice. Looks like your unparalleled rep as a kick-ass warrior may be taking some heat, if little Denal can get away with calling you a lady. "

Lord Justice flipped his waist-length braid of blue hair back over his shoulder and sneered. "Seems like he called you a lady, too, in case you missed it. "

Bastien served a lethal hit straight into justice's goal. "Hey, I'm golden. When you're nearly seven feet tall, these pitiful insults bounce right off. Atlantis has never seen a warrior the likes of me," he said, grinning. Then he threw his head back and drew in a lung­ful of pure, sea-filtered air and gazed out over the balcony railing at the glory of Atlantis. White marble buildings gleaming in the liquid gold of magic-created sunlight. Poseidon's Temple the grandest of them all, proudly standing tall in the center with its gold-capped columns.

The deep, unfathomable blue of the ocean currents gently gliding past the dome that covered them all.

"It's good to be home," he murmured, almost to himself. He was tired. Hells, they were all tired. The missions to the surface, never less than dangerous, had turned lethal lately. Poseidon's Warriors had protected humanity for more than eleven thousand years, but always in the shadows, under the radar.

Incogfuckingnito, as Ven would say.

Bastien thought back to his training and the words that were burned into his soul-the creed of the Warriors of Poseidon: All will wait. And watch. And protect.

And serve as first warning on the eve o f humanity's destruction. Then, and only then, Atlantis will rise.

For we are the Warriors o f Poseidon, and the mark o f the Trident we bear serves as witness to our sacred duty to safeguard mankind.

"Even when they're stupid enough to let vampires into their Congress and shape-shifters into their media," he growled.

Justice raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could make some crack about warriors who talked to themselves, the enormous wooden doors, inlaid with gold, silver, and copper-colored orichal­cum, that led from the spacious balcony to the palace's royal audi­ence room, swung slowly open. A warrior strode out to the balcony. Bastien tried not to laugh, as Denal nearly fell off the couch in his haste to stand at attention.

"Lord Vengeance," Denal snapped off, arms rigidly at his side.