The fish market, 2 a.m.

Lucas stared at the ceiling of the cage and waited for his breathing to start up again.

And waited.

And waited.

And—finally—gulped in a shuddering breath when his lungs remembered how to function.

"You have to stop doing that.”

He blinked and focused on his breaths. In, out. In, out. A face appeared in his peripheral vision and golden eyes stared down at him, opened owlishly wide.

"I know you said you were going to electrocute yourself, but this is ridiculous.” She bit her lip. He knew her name, but the electricity in the cage's bars seemed to have knocked his brain loose. Rina. No, Rhiannon.

Rhiannon.

"I need to try again,” he finally managed to say in a hoarse whisper. "I might—”

"You might kill yourself, you idiot. You tried five times, and five times you've ended up on the floor. I don't know anything about the cumulative effect of electricity on Atlanteans, but I'm starting to realize it's not good. Moron.” She shoved her mass of curls back and away from her beautiful, but highly annoyed, face, and Lucas realized that she might have a point.

"Maybe.”

"Maybe nothing. Do you know the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over but expecting a different result. Got it? So, quit trying to electrocute yourself before I'm stuck in this cage with a corpse,” she demanded.

"Okay.”

"And furthermore…wait. Did you say okay?”

"Yes. Help me up. Please,” he quickly added, before she started in on another lecture about how she was not his servant, as she'd done after attempt three or so, when he'd demanded her help.

She shook her head, grumbling, but grasped his upper arms and helped him sit up. The room spun around him as much as if he'd been on a three-day whiskey bender or swallowed a half-cup of demon rum.

He shuddered at the thought of demon rum. Never again. Never, ever again.

"Are you okay?” She bit her lip, which made him think entirely inappropriate thoughts about how much he'd like to bite her lip, or at least nibble on it, or maybe on other parts of her delectable body, which made him do a mental head smack.

No, no, no.

He deliberately closed his eyes and thought of the most hideous things he could bring to mind:

Decapitated vampires.

Bloated dead bodies.

Raisins.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that she'd moved away from him and was sitting cross-legged, shoulders slumped and head in her hands.

"It's hopeless, isn't it? We're going to have to stay here until they come back, and they already told me that they're going to kill you,” she said, with such despair that her voice shook. "They told me not to tell you, but hey, what does it matter? You killed some of them, right?”

Lucas stiffened his spine against the flinch. Yes, he'd killed them. And he didn't regret it. "Do you know what they're planning? They're going to force the Transition on a few hundred unsuspecting humans at the Humanity Prime gathering, which means most of the humans will die. Men, women, and children. Some of them are bigoted fools, certainly, but most of them are innocents. Even fools don't deserve a death sentence without a trial. So, tell me how horrible I am.”

He leaned forward and snarled. "Tell me again how I'm wrong.”

He watched the convulsive movement in her delicate throat as she swallowed. "Did you—”

"Did I what?”

She lifted her chin. "Did you give them a trial? The shifters?”

"Yes. I was judge, council, and executioner, and I convicted them based on their own words, which I heard them speak. And then I carried out the sentence.” He shook his head, trying to shake off the last of the effects of the electric bars, and then stood and began pacing the small floor. "I wonder that you have so much concern for these admitted killers when they're the ones who have your daughter.”

She gasped as if he'd struck her, and he realized that in truth he had—he'd plunged a spear home in the most vulnerable part of her soul. A wave of shame nearly swamped him when he saw the silent tears rolling down her face; gutted him when she curled up in a ball and began to rock back and forth, making the smallest of sounds.

The kind of sounds that a wounded animal might make.

His hand reached out toward her, almost without conscious thought, but he forced himself to step back. "I'm sorry. I'm …I didn't mean to say that. I know your first concern is for your child. You must know that I want you to escape this cage and go to her as much as I want to rescue those children at the H Prime compound.”

Her breath hitched, and the sound tugged at something inside his chest; something almost where his heart would have been if he still had one. "I'm sorry,” he repeated. "Let's try this again. I'm almost sure that if I can just hold onto the bars for long enough to—”

"No!” She scrubbed at her face with her fists and then jumped up. "Not again. And, okay. I accept your apology. Do you…do you have people at the H Prime thing? Others who can come rescue us?"

"No. Their first duty is to contain the shifters and protect the humans. I'm on my own."

"Are there, um, very many of them?"

He narrowed his eyes. Surely this woman was only a mother missing her child, not a spy. "Why do you ask?"

She bit her lip again but shrugged. "If there are a lot of them, maybe a few can come help us. But, anyway, let's try something different. Surely between the two of us we can figure out how to get out of here.”

He said nothing, simply nodded, because he realized her experience with cages was as lacking as her experience with violence. Some cages were impossible to escape.

He'd try his best to be sure this wasn't one of them.

"If nothing else, we can maybe rush them and get out when they come back in the morning. They want…” She hesitated and then shook her head. "Maybe we should get some rest until then.”

Lucas studied her face. She was clearly hiding something. "They want? They want what?”

She turned away and shrugged. "How should I know? They threw me in here, too, and I've done nothing to them. Let's just…let's just get some rest.”

She was lying about something. He just couldn't figure out what. His brain was still ringing from the latest attempt to break through the bars, so his usual coldly logical thought process wasn't working properly. Maybe she was right. Maybe they should get some rest, so they'd be prepared for the shifters' return. Unfortunately, there was no chance that he'd be able to sleep in such a vulnerable position, and he doubted a mother so terrified for her daughter would be able to sleep, either. They could doze, though, and reserve their energy for the ordeal that would be coming in the morning.

An ugly thought wormed its way through his mind: What if the shifters didn't open the cage? What if they simply shot him through the bars of the cage? His magic wouldn't be enough to heal a bullet to the heart or head.

No. He wasn't going to die in a cage.

He walked to the exact center of the cage and sat, so even if he did fall asleep there was no chance his arms or legs would touch the bars. Rhiannon reluctantly sat near him, leaving more than a little space between them. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, and he suddenly realized that she was shivering. Her clothing was clearly designed for its appearance, not to keep her warm while sitting on a concrete floor in an unheated warehouse. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees, but the muscles in her body were drawn as tight as one of Denal's bowstrings.

"It's cold in here,” he finally said cautiously.

She opened one eye, started to say something, but then simply nodded and closed the eye again when a particularly strong bout of shaking shuddered through her body.

"You are welcome—and I say this with my oath as an Atlantean warrior not to touch you in any unwanted way—you are welcome to sit next to me. My body temperature is higher than yours and could keep you warm.” He cleared his throat over the sudden obstruction that was choking him. "If you want to, that is.”

This time she opened both eyes and raised her head, pinning him with her golden-eyed stare. "I don't think so.”

But then another wave of shivering swept through her, and she sighed. "Okay. All that's important to me is getting to my daughter, and I need to stay strong to get out of here. And I guess if you were a pervert, you'd have tried something before now. Okay.” She took a deep breath, as if stealing herself for a highly unpleasant task, and then scooted over to sit right next to him, almost but not quite touching him.

"With your leave,” he said quietly, and when she hesitantly nodded he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer until the sides of their bodies were touching in a V-shaped line from shoulders to knees.

Rhiannon sighed deeply, and her shoulders relaxed against his arm. "You weren't kidding. You're so warm. I…thank you.”

"You're welcome.” He tried not to think any irrelevant thoughts like how good she felt in the circle of his arm, or how wonderful her hair smelled, or how long it had been since he'd been this close to any woman, let alone one so beautiful and brave.

No, he didn't think any of those things.

"Tell me about your daughter,” he said, desperate for any distraction. "Tell me about yourself.”

She pulled away from him and flashed him a narrow-eyed stare. "This is not a date. We don't need to get to know each other.”

"You're not talking about the fruit, are you?”

"What?”

"A date. The fruit.” His stomach, accustomed to regular food and lots of it, chose that moment to growl.

Rhiannon laughed, just a tiny whisper of a laugh, but it felt like a gift. "No, not the fruit. The kind of date that's a get-together, maybe dinner, with someone you might be interested in getting to know.”

He found himself fascinated with the idea of getting to know her, which made him want to punch himself in the face He had no time for nonsense like dates. "I see. But perhaps we could get to know each other in a non-date capacity. I would like to know more about how you came to be in this cage, certainly. Maybe you saw or heard something that could help us. And since neither of us is likely to be able to sleep, we should use the time productively. Do you agree?”

She said nothing for a long moment, but then she slowly nodded. "Yes. I agree. Just no favorite colors kind of stuff.”

Lucas turned his head to stare down at her. "You are a very odd woman, Rhiannon.”

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I know, Lucas. Trust me, I know. Let's talk later, okay? I'm very tired.”

He closed his eyes and waited. Patience was the key with any prey, and if he needed to coax the information out of her, he could do that. She was sitting alone in dim light, in a cage, scared, probably hungry, and cold enough to allow a total stranger whom she knew was a killer to hold her.

She'd talk. People always talked.

An hour later

She didn't talk.

Damn. Now he'd have to try another strategy. If only he knew how to be charming, like Jake. Or mysterious, like Griffin. Instead, he was just another violent man in a world filled with violent men. The son of a traitor.

Nothing special at all.

He cleared his throat. "Are you awake?"

Though he'd spoken softly, her eyes opened immediately, and she whipped her head from side to side, scanning their surroundings. "What is it? Are they back?"

"No. Relax. I was wondering if you're also finding sleep impossible. If you'd like to talk, in a non-colors way."

A breath of laughter escaped her lips. "Sure. Tell me about Atlantis. Is it as impossibly beautiful as it looks on TV?"

"More beautiful than anything you could imagine," he said, thinking of home. "Like a dream gilt-wrapped in a fantasy. The marble and crystal spires of the palace, the riot of color in the gardens—flowers like I've never seen anywhere else. The deep blue of the ocean surrounding us…Yes. Atlantis is beautiful."

"My daughter is quite determined to go there and be a princess. She keeps reminding me that the new queen is an American from Seattle, where she…where she was born."

If he hadn't been listening closely, Lucas might have missed the hitch in her voice. "Where she was born?"

And then a new question occurred to him, one he felt oddly reluctant to ask. "Where is her father? Will he not come and try to rescue you?"

Rhiannon turned away, so he couldn't see her face. "No," she said evenly. "No, he won't be coming to rescue me."

There was a heavy weight of bitterness in her voice, so he chose to respect her unspoken wish to change the subject. "Tell me about her."

She made a quiet, broken sound, and he instinctively tightened his arm around her, wanting to protect her from the pain, though he knew only too well that such attempts were futile. He'd been forced to learn that lesson again and again throughout his life, ever since his father had staged a coup against the rightful ruler of Atlantis and stolen the favorite possession of a god.

The Trident's magic had helped then-high-prince Conlan, then-high-priest Alaric, and the Seven track it down and restore it to its rightful place. Conlan, on the verge of becoming king, had chosen to forgive.

Poseidon had not.

"She's only four years old. Stevie, after Fleetwood Mac, of course, like I'm Rhiannon," she said, as if he understood.

"Fleetwood?"

She glanced up at him and comprehension dawned. "I'm sorry. I forgot…it's a singing group. Was a singing group, anyway. There's a singer named Stevie Nicks that Mom followed around the country, going to her concerts. Anyway, she loved the song Rhiannon so much she named me after it, and I grew up with their songs, so I named my daughter Stevie."

"Is it a good song?"

She ran a hand through her hair. "I guess—nobody has ever asked me that before. It's lovely—the singing is lovely—and it's very catching, but the lyrics are kind of silly, in a way. What does a skylark have to do with ruling somebody's life?"

"A skylark symbolizes the joy of the divine. Perhaps this singer wished to convey that message. Perhaps your mother felt that way about you," he told her, regretting the words the instant they were spoken. The joy of the divine. He was an idiot.

"Well--"

"This is not a non-fruit comment," he blurted out, feeling like seventeen kinds of fool when she turned wide golden eyes to him. "I was merely explaining--"

"I know you must be a soldier, but you sound like a poet sometimes. 'A dream gilt-wrapped in a fantasy.' 'The joy of the divine.' You don't hear that kind of language much up here among us non-Atlanteans."

She was mocking him. His face and neck burned with embarrassment. Of course, she was mocking him. He was a fool.

"It's…kind of beautiful," she continued, in a softer voice. "And the fact that you can sound like that? In a weird way it makes me feel safe with you."

She wasn't mocking him. He could hear the sincerity in her voice. The realization slammed into him with the force of a tsunami. She had complimented him and meant it. He sat with that for a moment, turning the idea around in his mind in three-dimensional clarity, analyzing it with his customary logic.

Logic was useless, though. Emotion kept creeping out to blur his thinking. She felt safe with him.

She felt safe with him.

The berserker, which had been raging inside him since the moment he awoke in the cage, calmed but didn't subside entirely. Instead, he could almost have sworn the monster was…yearning. Yearning for more. More conversation. More closeness.

More Rhiannon.

The feeling, one he'd never felt before from the beast, shocked him so thoroughly that he missed what she said next. "What? I didn't catch that."

"I said, do you have any children?"

He shook his head. "No children. No mate. No connections. It's better that way all around. Nobody to mourn when I die."

"That's awful." She reached out and put a hand on his knee, but then seemed to realize what she'd done and snatched it back. "I, um, mean that you should have someone. And didn't I read somewhere that you Atlanteans live a very long time? Like, centuries? Being alone for centuries sounds very sad."

"I don't expect to live even for one century," he admitted. "A warrior's life is violent. Dangerous. As you can see from our current situation."

"Yeah." She shivered and huddled against him. "Yeah. Lucas, I think I'm going to try to at least doze, if you don't mind."

He did mind. He wanted her to keep talking, keep telling him that he made her feel safe. "Yeah. I'll wake you when they return."

She bared her teeth in a fierce grimace. "When we get out of here, I'm going to find a way to pay them back for this, you just watch me. And when they're bleeding on the floor, I'm going to get my daughter and leave this horrible town forever."

"I believe you." He did, and he admired her even more for it. She was brave, this human, and he made her feel safe.

She relaxed against him, inch by inch, and finally slept. He held her and plotted their escape. Plotted ways to spend time getting to know her when the H Prime ordeal was over. Inhaled the fresh, floral scent of her hair.

He would escape this cage. He would protect her. And then back to the mission. After that…well. Anything could happen.

Lucas smiled.

Several hours later…

"They're coming."

She jerked awake, slamming her head into his chin. "Ow! I'm sorry. I—they're here?"

"Yes. Stand behind me, Rhiannon," he said, standing and pulling her to her feet in one motion. "They're dangerous, but I will protect you."

The lights came on and the shifters strutted into the room, grinning with the happy expressions of two men who didn't know they were already dead.

Rhiannon shoved her way past him, despite his command, the stubborn woman. "Please. Please let us out of here now. Have you seen Stevie? Is she okay?"

The bear laughed. "She's fine. She's with Viola, ain't she? Now, it's time for you to come out and talk to us."

"I will be glad to talk to you, shifter," Lucas told him. "They will be the last words you ever hear."

"Not you, killer," the other shifter—Plusick—said, flipping a knife from hand to hand in a pathetic display of aggression.

Lucas would teach him that he shouldn't play with knives. He rose up on the balls of his feet, preparing to rush the cage door. Preparing to let the berserker free.

But then they took out a different weapon and aimed it at him through the bars. Before he could try to take it away from them, another huge jolt of electricity knocked him on his ass. He tried to shake it off, tried to regain control of his body before they could take Rhiannon, but the clanking sound of the locking bar slamming back into place told him he'd failed.

"Rhiannon," he roared, finally making it back to his feet, unsteady but strong enough to kill them if only he could get out before they hurt her again. They were beasts and he'd kill them. Kill them both. Kill them all. "If you harm her--"

But before he could finish the sentence, Yardley patted Rhiannon on the arm. "Did he tell you?"

Rhiannon glanced back at Lucas but then tightened her lips and turned to the shifter. "He said he and his friends are going after your people at the H Prime compound if he escapes. They're already in place."

Her betrayal sliced into him with sharp claws. She'd said they had to figure out how to escape. She'd said he made her feel safe.

She lied. Just like humans always lie.

He said nothing, just stared at her, but she wouldn't meet his gaze, didn't turn around, but kept her head down.

"We'll take care of that," Yardley said. "As soon as we kill this bastard."

Rhiannon gasped. "But--"

The bear shifter cut her off. "Good job, Rhiannon. Just like we planned it. You're free to go."

She didn't wait to hear anything else but started running for the exit. When she reached it, she paused and looked back on Lucas, a look of pain on her lying, deceitful face. Her mouth moved, but he had no idea what she was trying to say and didn't much care.

And then she was gone.

He turned to face his captors and was unsurprised to see that they both had guns in their hands.

"We're not going to kill you," Plusick said. Then he laughed. "Not yet."

Yardley sauntered up to the bars of the cage, and Lucas lunged at him, but the shifter stumbled back, growling. "Yeah. First we're going to have some fun."

Then three things happened in rapid succession:

1. Yardley shot Lucas in the leg.

2. The electricity in the room flickered and went out.

3. The berserker inside Lucas smiled.