The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(27)

She'd clearly taken a bath, though. Dirt no longer smeared her, and the tattoos on her upper temples, arms, waist and thighs gleamed brightly. Those tattoos...more than ever, he wanted to touch them. Trace the curling designs with his tongue. Did she have any more? Designs he could not yet see? What did they mean? Why did she have them?

Stop! Do not think of her like that.

His eyes lowered. He meant to cast his attention to the sand, but instead it latched on to her breasts. Even as he watched, her nipples hardened into tight little points, as if begging for his attention. Layel was ashamed for noticing, for craving, and forced himself to look down. Little bumps broke out over the flat plane of her stomach. Her navel dipped deliciously, he noticed, another spot for his tongue to enjoy.

You love Susan. And more, you are a king, a warrior. Act like one. Every ounce of his strength was needed to finally -

"Good morning, contestants. I trust you slept well, and that you are as eager as we are for the games to begin. So, without further ado...say hello to your teammates," a god-voice suddenly pronounced. This voice was deeper than the one yesterday, harder. A different god?

In the blink of an eye, Layel was whisked to the other side of the beach, standing in a new line - though this one was only half as long - and facing yet another row of Atlanteans. His teeth gnashed together as irritation flooded him. Being moved around like a puppet grated on his every nerve.

Zane stood across from him. He tried to snag the soldier's attention but failed. Following the direction of the man's gaze, he realized Zane was staring at Nola, who occupied the same side of the beach as Layel. Lust glittered in the warrior's expression. Lust and confusion and perhaps a little awe.

Delilah was in Zane's line.

Dread curled Layel's stomach as suspicions danced through his mind. Surely this god was not so cruel. Surely this heavenly sovereign would not pit friend against friend, man against woman.

"Yes, you will compete against your own kind. And, yes, you will compete against the opposite sex." A laugh, booming, strong, full of mirth, though edged in steel. Did the god read minds on top of all his other powers, then? "What better way to test your cunning, determination and survival instincts?"

Just as the water had done yesterday, the sand between the two lines of creatures swirled together, faster and faster, rising...rising...until the outline of a body formed. A few wayward grains drifted into Layel's mouth, and he spit them out in disgust.

"Who among you will place your allegiance with your own kind, rather than your fellow teammates, hmm?"

Layel twisted left, right, and eyed his team. A centaur, a nymph, Brand the dragon - bile rose in his throat - a demon, Nola the Amazon - he gulped - a minotaur, a formorian and a snake-headed gorgon.

All but the nymph had one thing in common. They were eyeing him with revulsion. Why? He shrugged, unconcerned. The only thing that bothered him at the moment was the fact that Delilah was not in his group.

He would be forced to compete against her.

"Great One, I would ask a boon." Brand stepped forward, his gaze still locked on Layel.

"Ask," the being said. "Though I cannot promise you will receive it."

Brand pointed to Layel, accusation in his eyes. "This...bloodsucker meant to kill us all while we slept. I ask that he be removed from my team."

Delilah had tattled on him, then. He felt betrayed by the knowledge, which was foolish. At least the revulsion of his teammates now made sense.

"And yet he did not kill you or anyone," the god said in his defense, surprising him.

"He will continue to try if given the opportunity. I ask that he be destroyed here and now," Brand continued.

"And I decline."

"But - " Before he could speak another word, Brand dropped to his knees with a grunt, as if he could no longer endure his own weight. He moaned, grabbing his stomach and falling the rest of the way into the sand. A trickle of blood escaped his mouth.

"You had your answer, and yet you dared to persist. Let this be a lesson to all who think to question the gods' wisdom."

No one rushed to the dragon's defense, and Layel smiled slowly. A more welcome sight he had never encountered. Except for Delilah...last night...underneath you, panting...craving your mouth... With a muttered curse, he blackened his mind.

"We are giving you a few more hours. Use it to strategize with your team. Tonight," the god continued, as if Brand's interruption had not occurred, "the first competition will take place. You'll need every ounce of strength you possess to survive. Because the challenge will be difficult, the winning team will be greatly rewarded. And do not think to rebel, keeping your team from victory. The losing team shall appear before me, and, as mentioned before, the weakest contender will be executed.

"Go now. Do whatever you must to strengthen yourselves and prepare for the challenge to come. Do not disappoint me." The last seemed to bullet straight to Layel.

He opened his mouth to say something - what, he didn't know - but a second later, the sand stilled, collapsed, the being clearly gone.

Then a dark cloud assaulted Layel, a single word whispering into his ears: Gauntlet. His eyes burned, some of the granules having worked their way under his lids. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Gauntlet? Confused, he held his breath until the cloud passed. It swept over several other creatures, and they coughed. But they did not act as if they'd heard a voice.