Ambrose growled and pulled her closer. A shudder ran down her back as the beginning of desire flashed through her body.
They’d had the longest talk in the history of talks—and it had been the best time of her life. She learned about Ambrose, his family, his past. His brother, his friends. They had shared each others’ souls. And even though her body was aching and nearly drained of all sensation, he somehow managed to rouse a fire deep inside of her every time he decided he wanted her—which was every fifteen minutes.
His arms wrapped around her waist, his thick length pressing against her stomach. She felt the faint tingle in her legs, and knew that in a matter of seconds, Ambrose would be inside of her—
“Open these fucking curtains!”
The shouting, and the commotion, barely registered in her mind. Her hands wrapped around his neck as their kiss turned heated, passionate—
“Ambrose, I know you’re in there! Open the damn door before this bastard kills me!”
Her lover jerked back from her, a growl rumbling from his chest. Mari gasped and reached for him, disappointed. “Just ignore them,” she whispered, taking his hand and not letting him go.
The look he gave her told her that he wanted just that, but he shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m on thin ice. I can’t just—“
“Ambrose!”
Mari glowered, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest—
Gold flickered in her peripheral vision.
Her gaze snapped to her tail—no way. No freaking way, she thought, grabbing at her tail as joy crashed through her. “Ambrose!” she exclaimed, gathering the length of her tail and hugging it to her chest like it was a teddy bear. “My tail! It came back!”
He chuckled as he grabbed hold of a drawing string. “I was wondering when you would notice.”
She gasped then narrowed her eyes on him. “You knew?”
Ambrose looked at her over his shoulder. “Obviously.”
“You didn’t say anything?”
He shrugged. “Why would I? If I had said something, you wouldn’t have been focused on what we were doing…Plus,” he added, pulling the string. “Whenever I thought to mention it, I wanted you. So I took you. Simple enough?”
She would have been pissed beyond belief, but several factors held her silent.
First off, the drapes were open.
Standing outside of them was a whole legion of soldiers. All of them were panting, red in the face, and bloody. Mari sat up quickly, hand flying to her mouth.
“What the hell—“ Ambrose was just speaking her thoughts when Deimos charged into the room. The soldiers flew away from him like a stack of dominos on steroids and there he was. Face red, furious, arms bulging, fist clenched around daggers, and eyes flashing red and white.
“You,” he roared, shooting forward. Ambrose tried to block him as he came at Mari with ungodly speed, but Deimos knocked him away.
Ambrose cursed, slamming into one of the pillars. Mari quickly got to her feet, holding up her hands as he came to her—not in a defensive gesture, but as a soothing one.
“Left me!” His grating shout echoed throughout the temple. Mari winced guiltily, putting her hands on his shoulders when he got close enough for her to touch him. She didn’t make a move toward him, simply waiting for him while feeling like the worst mother in the world.
“No I didn’t,” she said calmly. Mari sensed Ambrose come up behind her and felt his worry wrap around her in a cold embrace, but she ignored him. Deimos was literally shaking—and not with fury. Well, not just with fury—but terror. She saw the look in his eyes, saw the way he was desperately staring into her own eyes, as if needing reassurance.
“Did. With him.” His face contorted as he struggled to talk, but she understood well enough. Mari ran her hands down his shoulders, nodding.
“I was. Deimos, why are you shaking?” she asked, changing the subject. It couldn’t be because she had sneaked away from him. Deimos would have been enraged, not scared shitless.
“Felt something—different.” His voice lowered as his eyebrows did. He cast a dark glance at Ambrose before settling them back on her. “Evil.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about? Deimos, you aren’t evil—“
“Yes he is,” Ambrose muttered.
“Shut it,” she snapped, wracking him with her tail. Mari focused on Deimos, who couldn’t seem to think of what to say. As the silence stretched on, the soldiers, or guards, or whatever the hell they were, moved out of the room—and with good cause. Deimos was still new to her, and very unpredictable.
“Can’t…Mari. Danger.”
She nodded, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. “We knew Ceto is still out there. We’ll take care of her. Really, you don’t need to worry—“
“Not Ceto,” he grated, shoving his hands through his hair. Those animalistic eyes flickered with real fear, real frustration, before latching onto hers. “Must take you away.”
She started. “What?”
“Mari is the safest she could be right now,” Ambrose said, arms going around her waist. She barely took comfort in his arms. Unease slid through her body as she stared at Deimos. He was a man rarely affected—incredibly loyal and stoic as hell.
“Do you know something we don’t?” she asked him softly, keeping the fear out of her voice. He had come from the gods, so his abilities were unknown to her. God. What he knew, and what he couldn’t say, scared her shitless—or tailless. Could fishes shit?
Mari peeked up at Ambrose and saw the hard set of his jaw.
She could wait until later to ask him. Deimos was much more important—
“You never answered my question!” she raged, turning on Ambrose.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. Ambrose frowned, and Deimos impatiently stirred his tail in the water.
“Farts! Can mermaids fart? Why didn’t you answer that when I asked you it! Do you know how rude that is? You leave me here to wonder whether I’m going to have a huge air-bubble in my ass!”
She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. “Why do you do this to me?!”
Ambrose sighed, staring at her. “Mari,” he said after another exhale.
“What?” she asked, stamping her tail. “Answer me!”
“Why in Atlantis do you do that?”
She started. Frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Ambrose trailed his fingers down her arm, then up, wrapping around her wrist. He gently disengaged them. “You know what I’m talking about. Whenever you’re scared or angry, you do something so completely opposite of the situation, so random, that I don’t know what the hell to say.”
She flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “You’re so tense right now. I was just waiting for you to change the topic as quickly as possible.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled.
“Deimos and I can talk this out by ourselves. You’re obviously worried, and if you can’t take this serious enough, then—“
She held up a finger sharply. Ambrose backed away, eyeing it. “First off, I am not worried—“
“I beg to differ—“
“Second off, I can take this perfectly serious—“
“’Can mermaids fart?’”
“Thirdly, I take offense to that. I don’t want to look bloated when I fart, so I need to know the dynamics of it.”
Ambrose didn’t say anything for a long moment.
When her lips began to purse with disapproval, he burst into laughter. “One of the most ridiculous women ever,” he said, taking her in his arms. She frowned against his chest.
“If this is concerning me at all, I should be able to know what’s happening.”
“Not safe,” Deimos growled from behind them. Mari looked over her shoulder at him, not knowing what to say. Deimos wasn’t going to let it go—but Ambrose was right. She had the weirdest, most inconvenient ideas when she didn’t like something.
And she really didn’t like this.
All she wanted to worry about was Ambrose taking back his throne. Which, going by how unwell H’Sai was, wasn’t going to be a problem. But now that Deimos was worried, he had her worried. And if she was worried, that meant Ambrose had to worry. She could try to tell him not to, but it was in his nature.
“Deimos,” Ambrose said, focusing on him even while tightening his arms, silencing her. “Is Ceto out of the picture then?”
He shook his head. Mari felt a weird sensation tingle along her spine as his red eyes shifted to pure white, then back. “Both of them. Both attack you.”
Mari swallowed, biting her lip. “Do you know when?” She forced herself to stay strong and not tremble with fear like she wanted to. Ambrose would be able to feel it, and then he would send her away to deal with this himself. And that wasn’t what she wanted at all—they had to stay together with this.
He was so used to being alone that even the thought of sending him to do something concerning her, while risking his life for her, was unfathomable.
And what if this happened during the coronation. What if this was something H’Sai was setting up? The man obviously wasn’t pleased that Ambrose was back. She felt a shiver of fear for him.
“Don’t—know. Soon. Days.”
So they had days for this to happen. Her heart stopped in her chest and she clutched Ambrose. “If this is Ceto, or H’Sai, I swear I’m going to kick their asses,” she said, completely serious. The very thought of Ambrose or Deimos in danger caused a rush of fury to flow through her. The memory of what had happened with the Octopians flashed through her mind.
If it came down to it, she would gladly go through all of that again just to keep them safe.
Ambrose was all she had left. No family, no teaching, no life. If all she could have was him, then she was keeping him.
Deimos frowned, breathing out roughly.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, stepping out of her man’s arms. “We’ll take care of it.”
“Protect you,” he grated as she took his hand, leading him out of the room. She didn’t worry about Ambrose following them—she could sense him behind her, and probably always would when he was near.
“Of course,” she said lightly.
“Where do you think you’re going with him?” Ambrose asked.
She looked over her shoulder, raising a brow. “I think it’s time we meet the people of Atlanits, no?”
“With him?”
Mari narrowed her eyes. “Yes. With him. They need to meet their first in command.”
“Deimos isn’t going to be my first in command,” he said, sighing.
“That’s what you think.”