He took off his combat gear only because even he couldn’t stand the stench and stiffness of it. His muscles still complained with every flex and movement, but he ignored the aches and took his time stripping down and then donning the strange-feeling, too-snug Atlantean attire.
“How long have I been up here?” he asked Selene’s man.
“Three days.”
The news came as a shock. Three days unconscious in an enemy prison cell. Three days without securing Jordana’s release.
Three days without feeding.
No wonder his body felt so sluggish and out of sorts. Selene’s blast had been debilitating enough. Another few days without fresh, living blood to drink would be the beginning of his end. Human blood, since he didn’t expect any of the Atlantean males were going to offer up a vein to him anytime soon, and drinking from an Atlantean female would activate a mutually unwanted blood bond between them.
So, yeah, if he didn’t find a way back to D.C. with Jordana soon--with or without the realm’s crystal in hand--he was fucked.
He held out his arms, baring his teeth and fangs in a parody of a smile. “Now that I’m all presentable, why don’t you send Selene up here so we can finish our chat?”
Sebathiel grunted, his stare dark with contempt and something else Darion couldn’t quite describe. He didn’t answer, just turned and strode for the door.
If Darion thought attacking the male or threatening Selene with her High Chancellor’s death would help his odds of freeing Jordana, he would have considered it. At the moment, he wasn’t sure if anything--other than her precious crystal--held any value for the Atlantean queen.
Sebathiel walked out and locked him inside. Darion stepped forward to have a closer look at the glowing light that emanated from around the door. He tested the lock with the power of his mind, but it held fast.
The light refused to bend. He touched his fingers to it, then leapt back on a hiss at the searing heat that scorched him.
Shit.
No way out through the door, and unless Sebathiel was lying the only thing waiting on the other side of Darion’s cell was death.
He had to be sure. Walking back to the line separating shadow from the unusual sunlight outside, he extended his hand. As soon as his fingertips moved into the light, they began to blister and smoke.
“Son of a bitch.” He yanked his hand back into the cool shadows, his fangs punching out of his gums at the excruciating pain of the burn.
And then he saw her.
In another tower across the palace courtyard from him, Selene stood in a garden bursting with lush flowers and citrus trees. Watching him.
Darion stared back. He let his smile spread slowly, lip curling away from his teeth and fangs as he lifted his hand in a flagrant salute.
He could practically feel her icy fury stabbing him across the distance.
Even if she unleashed another bolt of Atlantean power on him right now, it would be worth it just to see the incredulous look on her royally outraged face.
But she didn’t blast him into next week.
With a glower, she pivoted, giving him her back as she stormed into the shade of her solar, her gauzy silk gown rippling like a sail in her wake.
CHAPTER 21
Jenna lifted her eyelids and found herself staring into the sweet, freckled face of a little boy.
“Uh . . . hello,” she said, her throat scratchy from sleep. Her tongue didn’t want to cooperate in forming words. “Who--who are you?”
“I’m Caleb.” Stated as if it was common fact, and accompanied by small smile.
She was groggy and confused, a bit disoriented, none of which were helped by the presence of a kid she’d never laid eyes on before. Still, she couldn’t resist the tender brown gaze that studied her as though he’d known her forever.
“Hi, Caleb,” she murmured thickly. “I’m Jenna.”
“I know. Brock told me.” The boy turned his head and shouted over his thin shoulder. “Brock, come quick! She’s awake!”
