Excerpt from WILD HEARTS IN ATLANTIS

A novella in the Warriors of Poseidon universe

By Alyssa Day
Copyright Alesia Holliday and Berkeley Sensation

Chapter 2

Kat sat in her Jeep, shirt soaked through with sweat from the heat of south Florida in autumn, and wondered when a simple trip to the grocery store had turned into a test of courage. The thermometer at the bank had read eighty-five degrees, not all that unusual for this time of year, and the wild cat in her wanted to curl up in the sun on a rock somewhere.

Take a nap, maybe.

Take down a sheep or two.

“Yeah, right. Take a break from reality.”

The reality in which Kat Fiero, official National Park Service ranger and daughter to the former alpha of the Big Cypress panther coalition, had never once taken down a sheep. Or a goat. Or even a little bitty squirrel.

“Fake shape-shifter, useless excuse for a panther, worthless bitch,” she muttered. “Okay, that pretty much covers the range of happiness I’ll have to deal with if Fallon or her minions are in there, hanging out in the tuna fish aisle.”

She grabbed her wallet from her backpack and shoved it into her shorts pocket, then got out and slammed the door. Eyed the slut-red Jaguar with FALLON1 license plates, felt her lips curl back from her teeth.

The world is going to hell in a coffin, and I have time to worry about what these morons think of me why, exactly?

She thought back to the headlines she’d choked down with bitter coffee and overcooked eggs at Thelma’s grill. More bills passing Congress, more extra goodies tacked onto the 2006 Non-Human Species Protection Act, as if the poor humans were any danger to the vamps. Most of ‘em cowered in their homes at night, still unable to believe – even after a decade – that the things that went bump in the night were real.

Vampires and shape-shifters both.

Her dad hadn’t wanted any of it. “Upsets the natural order of things, Kat,” he’d said, again and again. “We’re meant to stay in the wild, remain true to our natures. Not play at being reporters and law enforcement and other civilized members of society.”

But he’d married a human, hadn’t he? And then he’d died, still trying to hide how disappointed he was in his only child. The daughter who’d never been able to shift. Not even once.

Now half the rangers she worked with -- and a good third of the local paranormal ops unit -- were shape-shifters. “Except me,” she muttered as she pushed open the door to the store and felt the wonderfully cool currents of air-conditioned air sweep out toward her. “I’m only half shape-shifter. I’m just a --"

“Freak!” The voice rang out with unsuppressed glee. “We were just talking about you, ranger freak show.”

Kat dropped her hand away from the butt of her service revolver, regretting yet again that bitchiness wasn’t grounds for shooting under National Park Service regs. “Fallon. Always a pleasure. Or, wait – never a pleasure, actually.”

She watched, eyes narrowed, as the petite – damn her – bane of her existence stalked up to her on the kind of five-inch heeled shoes Kat would never in her life wear. Then she allowed herself a little smugness because Fallon still had to look up at her. Being nearly six feet tall wasn’t always all bad.

Fallon ran a hand through her masses of black curls, arched her back, and acted like a feline in heat. Which she probably was.

Bitch.

The momentary pride Kat had taken in her height shriveled like her self-esteem, and she went back to feeling like a pudgy Amazon next to the delicate beauty. Somehow, she was sure Fallon knew it, too. Too tall, too strong, just too everything for the human males. And too wrong for the shifters. Kat would never be the belle of the ball; she was long since resigned to it. But she’d like, just once, to get an invitation to the damn dance. Just once find a man who wasn’t intimidated or disgusted by her. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Are you coming to the gathering tonight? Oh – wait. That’s right. You’re not really one of us. You’re probably not invited,” Fallon said, voice dangerously near a purr.

Kat wanted desperately to walk away. Wouldn’t give Fallon the satisfaction of seeing her cowardice. “I was invited. Just not interested,” she replied, putting all the bored indifference she could manage into her voice.

Fallon arched one eyebrow. “Really? And yet I would have thought your ranger instincts would have gone crazy over the mere idea of us forming an alliance with the Lord High Vampire of the southeast district. I’ve heard he and his blood pride have interesting tastes in entertainment.”

Kat had heard the reports. Humans tortured for days, used as playthings for the bastard’s sick, perverted pleasure. She clenched her hands into fists, barely realizing that her nails were cutting into her palms. “You’re lying,” she said flatly. “There’s no way Ethan would join forces with the vamps. Especially not Terminus’s bunch. The two of them nearly killed each other last year after Terminus played his games with three of Ethan’s youngest members.”

“Haven’t you heard? Terminus is dead. Some new gang in the northeast who’ve allied with those idiot rebels or something. Anyway, things change.” Fallon started to walk off, turned. “Not everything, apparently. Still not a real cat, are you? Tell me, how does it feel to work with wild panthers and realize you’ll never, ever be able to become one?”

Kat tightened her lips, knowing anything she said would only prolong the encounter.

Fallon laughed, and the sound of it scraped like shards of glass over an open wound. “Poor little freak Kat, with her pathetic human mother. And really, what were they thinking to name you Kat when you’ll never be one?”

As Fallon clacked away toward the door on her ridiculous heels, Kat tried to think up a blistering comeback. Unfortunately, the grief burning in her throat blocked the words from coming out, just as the human DNA swirling in her bloodstream blocked the panther from coming out.

Pathetic.

###

Ethan leaned against the wall nearest to the sealed chamber’s door and looked around, fighting every instinct in both of his dual natures in order to appear relaxed and nonchalant. His cat had gone feral beast inside him -- wanted to rip through his skin and attack the bloodsuckers in the room. Panthers didn’t care much for the smell of dead things that walked around.

But politics was a hunt better played by the human side of his existence. The vamp standing in the center of the room was a master gamesman and expected easy domination over Ethan.

Organos was in for a nasty surprise.

“So, the rumors are true,” Organos concluded. “The lost continent of Atlantis is evidently more than a fairytale for pathetic humans to tell their children. These warriors attacked and destroyed Barrabas and his blood pride, and it is said that Anubisa has gone into hiding.”

Ethan smiled, deliberately showing a lot of very sharp teeth. “Hiding? Or did the Atlanteans kill her, too?”

Organos hissed and his own fangs slid down into place. “You will speak of our goddess with respect, or this alliance will end before it begins. No human could ever defeat Anubisa. She plans strategy far beyond our understanding.”

Ethan raisd an eyebrow. “Really? She doesn’t share strategy with you, either? How exactly is this shape-shifter vamp alliance going to work if we don’t even know what’s going on?

“You will know what I know as soon as I know it. Surely you agree that our goal of complete human subjugation is worth a little uncertainty.”

Studying the vampire’s face was an exercise in futility. Organos gave nothing away with his expressionless features. He could have been made out of cold white marble.

Or else rigor mortis set in about, oh, two or three centuries again.

His cat shuddered inside him, registering a predator’s distaste for carrion. Ethan sent his thoughts inward, soothing and calming the beast. Soon. We’ll be out of here soon, and I’ll set you free to roam.

The cat snarled but subsided within him, a reminder of the constant need for control. The most powerful of the dual-natured stalked the precipice edging total conversion at all times. The danger of going wild was always present. There were too many who had never come back from animal form. Too many of his friends who had fallen prey to the damn humans and their illegal hunting.

When he’d seen the obscenity in Nelson’s shop, he’d roared out his anguish and vowed vengeance. Then he’d run outside, gotten as far away as he could before he puked his guts up.

That’s when he’d finally agreed to meet with Organos. After he’d seen his cousin – his closest boyhood friend – stuffed and mounted in a taxidermy shop.

The humans – and at least one black-hearted witch – were going to die.

Growling, he shook his head a little to try to rid himself of the image seared into his brain. He pinned Organos with his gaze. “Total subjugation. Yeah, they’ve gotta pay.”

The vampire glided closer, held out a thin, white-fleshed hand. “Partners?”

Ethan tried not to think about how Hank Fiero would be rolling in his grave at the idea. Tried not to think of Kat Fiero at all. Held out his own hand, repressing his cat’s violent revulsion. “Partners.”

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