The Wellspring (11 page)

Yule’s head rolled from side to side on the
grass while the pulse of her home joined the throbbing in her chest
and between her thighs. She instinctively ground her hips against
him each time he buried himself to the hilt in her heat and she
smiled in satisfaction at his gasps of pleasure. She could feel the
heartbeat of Atlantis surrounding them, seeping into her skin, and
wondered if Marc felt it too. The harder Marc pumped into her, the
deeper he pushed Yule into the living core of Atlantis where the
source of all—All what? She didn’t know, she grit her teeth against
the pressure building inside her body, suddenly frightened of what
was happening.

“It’s all right, Yule, it’s all right,” she
heard his ragged voice assure her as if from a distance. “I’m right
here with you. Open your eyes, my love. Open them and see me.”

His love! Her green eyes snapped wide at that
and she saw him smiling down at her, but only for a moment. His
surprisingly muscular arms (for she’d only ever seen him in long
sleeves before this and never realized what lay beneath the
fabric), slipped around her and drew her up as her sat back in a
kneeling position, her thighs spread wide across his lap, manhood
still embedded in her fiery depths.

His mouth savaged hers, calloused fingertips
stroking her shoulders and the muscles alongside her spine as she
strained against the forces working inside her. His lips moved to
her neck, sharp teeth closing on tender skin and gently biting. She
panted and dropped her head on his shoulder as the thrusts into her
body grew more forceful, their rhythm irregular. Yule moaned
despairingly as Marc slammed into her again and again, uncertain
she could resist the urge to—scream? She didn’t know what exactly,
explode maybe, but whatever it was she didn't think she could take
any more. The pressure was becoming too much and—

“Please, baby, please come!” Marc begged, his
breath short and harsh, hinting at a desperate kind of amusement.
“I don’t know how much longer I can wait for you!”

Wait for her? But she was right here. “I’m
right here!” she gasped, drawing back just enough to look into his
dark, sparkling eyes.

“Open up, baby. Lose control. It’s okay. I’ve
got you,” he promised her again, clutching her body to his as his
hips jerked spasmodically upward and she suddenly thought she knew
exactly who he was and precisely what they were doing—and the
heartbeat of Atlantis swelled in her ears as the feeling in her
core swelled and spread through her body—

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

Hermes query jerked Yule awake with a start,
the travelogue crystals spilling from her lap and rolling across
the top quilt. She sat up and pushed back her hair from her face,
looking around in confusion. She watched Hermes open the drapes and
squinted at the sunlight streaming in.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly eleven,” he told her, bringing a
breakfast tray to the bed. “I’d have woke you sooner, but I had a
late night too.” He smiled blissfully at the memory and she gave
him a scolding, amused smile. “Besides, you seemed to be having a
hot little dream-tryst. Want to share the details?”

“No,” she firmly told him, watching him pour
the cinnamon tea into antique bone china cups. “I can’t
really—remember now.” And that was the truth. Something
about—Atlantis she was almost positive. “There was a garden and it
was in Atlantis.” She shrugged and picked up her cup. “I was
reading the holiday crystals when I fell asleep. I must have
dreamed up a vacation.” She sipped her tea.

“Then sign me up with your travel agent
because he definitely had you booked on Get Me Off Airlines,”
Hermes teased and Yule sputtered, grabbing a napkin and glaring at
him as she choked on her tea. “Croissant?” he inquired
demurely.

Hermes wasn’t alone in his misgivings about
the sensibility of Yule’s accepting her vacation temp position.
Marc, having listened to mere minutes of her story about it via her
vanity mirror, winded his way to her living room to personally
deliver his qualms.

“Taking this job over your Retreat doesn’t
sound like a sensible use of your time, Yule. I know you feel you
owe him something for what he’s doing—”

“It’s a trip to
Atlantis
, Marc. I’ll
never get there any other way and I’ll probably never get another
opportunity. I’d rather be his slave for three weeks in Atlantis
than go to a Retreat that won’t teach me more than I’ve already
learned.”

“His slave? What kind of repayment is he
expecting?”

Yule blushed. “I didn’t mean—I meant as far
as work, a lot of work.”

“Fine, I understand...” He rubbed his
forehead with his right index finger appearing uncommonly
concerned. He eyed her steadily. “You’re such an innocent, Yule. I
can’t help thinking there’s more to this than work. You could be
getting into something that will spiral out of control.”

“Come on, Marc, what could happen?” She
smiled confidently. “Don’t start to worry about me now. You’re
beginning to sound like Hermes. He’s convinced there’s something
suspicious going on because he thinks it’s illogical for Magus
Teomond to hire me. Free labor isn’t illogical, it’s smart, but
Hermes likes noir.”

“It might make sense to you, but I still
smell something strange about it all and I wish you’d turned him
down.”

Yule gave a little chuckle. “Come on, Marc,
it’s not like the Magus is luring me off for some illicit seduction
scenario.”

Marc didn’t smile, he frowned. “I don’t know
why you wouldn’t think he might. I wouldn’t be surprised by
anything a Magus did.”

“I guess that’s just more of my innocence
showing through,” she tried to lighten his expression.

He tilted his head and yellow light from one
of Hermes’ Tiffany lamps cast a glow on his face that revealed an
intensity in his eyes she’d never seen before—not directed toward
her anyway. “When we met you were so vibrant, enthusiastic about
everything and you just wanted so much out of the world—I couldn’t
help being charmed. Maybe our daily interaction blinded me to the
subtle changes in your attitude, but I’m looking now. There’s
a—mellowing to the vibrancy and something else I can’t quite put my
finger on. The innocence is there, but it seems to have
ripened.”

“Are you comparing me to fruit?” She didn’t
want to hear this now, to see the light kindling in his expressive
eyes. Before the events of the past week, yes, she’d have fainted
at his feet or flung herself into his arms if he’d said these words
to her. But he was right, something had changed, she felt different
and it made everything around her change as well—even Marc.

“Maybe a peach?” he teased, gently stroking
her cheek with the back of his left hand. She managed to smile at
that, but she saw he didn’t believe the smile and lowered his hand.
“You’re definitely going?”

“Definitely.”

He nodded and took a step back from her that
gave her heart a small tug. “I hope you have fun, but not too
much,” he cautioned and this time her smile was more genuine. “If
you run into trouble, send for me and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing
and wind my way to your side, fair maiden, to slay any dragons who
happen across your path.”

“Seriously?”

“How could I help myself? The heart of
Atlantis beats in all magic folk doesn’t it? Sharing that with you
would be—amazing, I’m sure.” He lifted a hand in farewell and
allowed the wind to take him from her sight before she say
something to stop him.

Something about his words struck a familiar
chord in her, but she couldn’t think of the reason why and she
started toward her bedroom, intending to call Marc back even though
she didn’t have the slightest idea what she planned to say to him.
Her path was blocked when Hermes suddenly winded into the room
looking excited.

“Grottos, sweetheart! Do you have any idea
what’s on this little gem?” He waved the crystal Prosser had given
to her.

“No, which is pretty much why I wanted you to
download it to an easy reader,” she replied with a flippant tone,
distracted from her course.

“Don’t be a bitch,” he scolded, unaffected by
her tone. He grabbed her hand. “There’s a credit on here and an
instruction list on where to spend it—on
you
!” He hugged
her. “He wants you to shop for clothes!”

“What?” Yule blinked several times.

“And honey, we’re not talking about off the
rack money.”

“Hang on, aren’t you the one who said I
should be suspicious of his motives and question his actions?”

“This is shopping, sweetheart! Those rules
don’t apply to this!” He seized her hand. “We only have a few hours
before you go and so much spending to do!”

The echo of Yule’s delighted laughter hung in
the air a moment after Hermes winded them off for a shopping spree.
During their spree, Yule teased Hermes for having a gay shopping
gene that he delighted in claiming rather than denying, matching
separates with skill and taste. Hours flew by and none of Yule’s
worries came to fruition. Marc didn’t try to interfere, Hermes
didn’t forbid her to go, and Prosser didn’t call off the whole
thing. Hermes insisted on accompanying her to Prosser’s home,
winding her to his front door with her new wardrobe tidily packed
into her stylish Gucci luggage.

A maid escorted them into the great room and
Yule was dismayed to discover Prosser in the company of the
striking goddess type she’d seen in his company days before, when
she spied on him from the sidewalk—both dressed for travel.

“Now I believe he doesn’t plan to seduce you
on this trip,” Hermes whispered to her. “Don’t let him talk you
into a threesome.”

Yule couldn’t formulate a retort to this. She
was staring at the Grecian beauty in the chic summer dress and
white sport fur stole. Her long dark hair fell to her shoulders in
perfect waves and her smile fairly sparkled with equal stark
perfection. Yule thought her mouth formed an automatic smile in
response and hoped it didn’t look like a sneer. All of her
fantasies regarding this trip suddenly rearranged themselves back
into reality at that moment and she finally acknowledged she’d
truly been anticipating adventure. The facts gave her a little
shake and asked how she ever thought Magus Teomond might have
designs on her virtue. She argued that she never really anticipated
something happening, but she thought they’d be travelling alone.
She was still wallowing in misery when she heard the words
sayer
and
broadcast
and the name,
Sheirienu
.

“My gods, I should have recognized you
immediately!” Hermes was exclaiming, moving forward to take
Sheirienu’s extended hand. “You’re so much more stunning than you
appear in your broadcasts! You should fire your seer
immediately.”

The woman laughed at this and thanked Hermes
while Yule’s spirits rose from under the rock of disappointment
that crushed them. Sheirienu! Only the most famous sayer on the
social broadcasts! And she was travelling with them to Atlantis to
broadcast several important speeches that would be given, Prosser’s
among them. Her smile was genuine when she shook Sheirienu’s hand
and her spirit remained light even when she hugged Hermes goodbye,
promising to speak to him every day or so via the hand mirror he’d
powered up for her for her trip. She was still smiling when Prosser
winded them away from his home to Atlantis.

The plateau of black lava rock upon which
they appeared jutted out into a serene bay of dazzling teal and
deeper blue. Yule squinted under the midday sun and looked around,
discovering they stood upon the termination of a long jetty
connected to the white sand shore. Several men moved to meet them
and her skin crawled as if a million ants were set loose on her to
feast. She cried out in reflex, brushing at her skin even though
she knew nothing crawled there.

“It’s all right, girl,” soothed Sheirienu.
“They’re Guardians of Atlantis. They’re only searching you. It will
do no harm.”

Yule nodded and recovered her startled wits,
annoyed by the way Prosser patiently ignored her antics as if
tolerating a child’s outburst. She glared at the Guardians as they
stopped before them and the apparent leader spoke to Prosser.

“Welcome, Magus Teomond, you are expected, as
are you, Sayer Sheirienu, but the Stunt is not listed on your
servant manifest.”

Yule bridled at that. “The Stunt isn’t a damn
servant!” she snapped. Black poppies suddenly bloomed before her
eyes, filling her vision, and she swooned, dropped to her knees,
oblivious to the bark of her bare knees on the friction-smoothed
black rock.

“That will be enough, Guardian,” Prosser’s
order was distant in her cotton-thick ears. “Miss Fiore is my
temporary assistant and she will not be treated like a
criminal.”

“As you wish, Magus,” the Guardian assented
and Yule felt her head clear and her vision return.

“Are you all right, Miss Fiore?” Prosser
asked, his hands under her arms as he helped her back to her
feet.

“I’m fine,” she told him, fighting to sound
annoyed and well rather than pissed off and shaken. She watched the
Guardians turn on their heels and stride back to the shore, passing
a pair of Atlantis employees in crisp cream shorts and teal polo
shirts who stopped before the arrival party and bowed politely.

“I am here to transport you to your hotel,
Sayer Sheirienu,” the man told the sayer.

“And it is my honor to transport you to your
hearth, Magus Teomond,” the redheaded woman told Prosser.

For a moment Yule thought she said
heart
and wondered why that notion troubled her, but she
quickly corrected herself and realized she said
hearth
,
which was less troubling, but more surprising. Hearth was the old,
magic folk term for home and it was only used in reference to a
permanent dwelling, never a vacation residence. But if Prosser had
a hearth on Atlantis that meant this was his base of power and—she
looked at him with startled eyes, but he ignored her, nodding at
their porter. Just before they vanished from the plateau Yule
thought, Prosser’s Family Grove is here, on Atlantis! He belongs to
one of the Founding Families!