The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(75)

Susan. Once more he heard his mate screaming inside his head, dragons abusing her, using her in the most terrible way. Part of him wanted to crumble under those screams, to finally give in. But just as before, thoughts of Delilah muted them to quiet whimpers, keeping him focused, able to fend off his opponents.

Delilah. What should he do? How could he save her? A few days ago, he truly might have left her here and saved himself, thinking to Hades with everyone else. After all, he was a killer, not a savior.

Today, that moment, for whatever reason, he didn't want to whisk himself away. Didn't want to put his life above another's. Delilah's life was more valuable than his own.

Another blaze of fire launched at him, but this time he was too slow and it slammed into his shoulder, sizzling the skin and half of his hair. Plumes of black smoke wafted around him. For once, his mind was not on retaliation. He didn't care that Tagart was breathing the same air he was, didn't care that Tagart was alive. Delilah was still all that mattered to him.

Was she breathing? Not a single sound emerged from her. She was so still, so lifeless. Damn this! She couldn't take much more.

Something sharp cut into his leg. A shark. He kicked with his other leg, knocking the creature away and diving under just as another blaze of fire rained. Eyes open in the murky liquid, he saw a smiling merman grab Delilah's waist, trying to pull her away from him. Enraged, Layel wound his legs around her. Crimson liquid swirled out of him and around them.

The merman stopped grinning and jerked. "Mine!"

Layel managed to latch on to the fish-man's hair and tug him forward, body gliding smoothly through the water. Never breaking momentum, Layel chomped down on his neck. The merman flailed, his tail hitting Delilah.

Finally, her eyelids popped open.

Immediately she began flailing for freedom, panic blanketing her expression. If he lost his grip, Delilah would swim unknowingly into the fire above. Though he had a hard time holding her and fighting his opponent at the same time, he managed it, too desperate to do otherwise.

The merman thrashed so fiercely, a small whirlpool formed below their feet. Only when the creature went limp did Layel release him, watching as he floated down...down...

Another shark darted past.

Layel's arm snaked around Delilah's chest, cupped her breast and jolted her into the hard line of his body. She stilled on contact. Softened as though she recognized him. As the shark turned, darted past again, mouth opening, teeth gleaming, she punched it in the nose. That quickly, it swam away.

And then Delilah was gone, and Layel was grasping only water. Wild, he scanned the murky liquid.... A shark hit him from behind and he spun. Another merman sprang forward, tackling Layel and flipping him over.

Where in Hades was Delilah? How had she disappeared like that? Only the gods could - the gods, he realized. Elimination. He roared through the water, dread coursing through him. Dread and panic, followed by shock at the knowledge that he cared. But he did. He cared and he couldn't deny it. Didn't want to deny it just then.

Delilah could be voted off. Killed. Her teammates didn't like her association with him, after all. Layel didn't waste any more time in the sea. He pictured the crackling bonfire in his mind, the moonlight, the rocks and the moss. A moment later, he was there, the ocean a distant memory.

He collapsed into a dripping heap, suddenly unable to support his own weight. His strength - gone. All of his limbs shook so forcefully, he wouldn't have been surprised if he caused some kind of quake.

Delilah. Had to find her. He barely managed to lift his head. His eyes roved the area. There were the rocks, the moss, the circle where the bonfire had once crackled, but there were no people. No, wait. There were people. His team. Not who he'd been looking for. They strode through the far bush, all of them frowning in confusion as they surveyed their surroundings.

"...summoned here, I think," someone said. "Why are we back at the counsel circle? We won. Our team was the last standing."

"For our prize, perhaps?" another replied. "Perhaps we are to come here after every challenge, whether we win or lose."

Damn this! Where would the gods have taken Delilah? Helplessness settled heavily on Layel's shoulders as no answer presented itself. Think, think! Off the island? Back to Atlantis? No, no. She was here, had to be.

"I bet so," the conversation continued, distracting his muddled mind.

"I can't wait!"

"Wonder who will be killed from the other team."

"Dear gods. Look!"

There were gasps, excited whoops, and then the sound of plates and bowls rattling, teeth chomping. Layel's gaze lifted. There, in place of the fire, was table after table piled high with food. Scents of sweetmeats and spice wafted to him as his teammates gorged.

Delilah. She was here, surely. Somewhere. Layel wanted to find her, see her, make sure she was all right. Make sure she was not the one chosen to die.

What he would do if she was, he didn't know. He only knew it would be his fault. Because of her...relationship with him. Relationship, yes. Not just an association, as he'd thought earlier, but a true relationship. There was no denying it. Not any longer. They searched for each other while standing among a crowd. They each wanted something from the other - blood, passion. They were intimate only with each other. They talked, they shared, they looked out for each other.

Panting, sweating, bleeding, he labored to his feet. Swayed just as Delilah had done while standing on that stump. He tripped forward and had to seize the base of a tree to hold himself upright. Breath in, breath out.