Alyssa Day - Heart of Atlantis

This one is for my wonderful readers, who have been asking me for Alaric’s story since you first read about him in Atlantis Rising, the book that started this whole fantastic journey for me. I can never express how much I have appreciated your support over the years as we followed the Warriors of Poseidon on their incredible adventures. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Dear Readers:

For those of you who have been with me and my hunky alpha male Warriors of Poseidon from the beginning, yes, this is it! You finally hold in your hot little hands the long-awaited story of Alaric, high priest of Poseidon, and his one true love, Quinn Dawson, the rebel leader and empath whose dark and tortured past may even rival Alaric’s. All of you can go ahead and skip straight to the prologue, with my heartfelt thanks for making this series such a resounding success.

For those who are new to Atlantis, never fear! Each of my books stands alone and this one is no different. However, some of my readers told me that it might be more fun for those new to the series to know a little bit about the history of Atlantis and High Priest Alaric, in order to enjoy this book even more. So here is a touch of what you may have missed:

Eleven thousand years ago, during a battle between the gods of many different pantheons for control of the world, Atlantis escaped beneath the sea to avoid destruction. The sea god Poseidon, who has an affinity for humans and their boisterous, charming, lovable ways, created an elite group of warriors sworn to his service, each of whom takes an oath to protect humanity from evil.

Today, the world is in a precarious place. Vampires, rogue shape-shifters, and other dark creatures once thought to be only legend have declared their existence and are beginning to take over, treating humans as little more than cattle. The Warriors of Atlantis are needed more than ever to help hold back the attack. Now, finally, Atlantis must rise.

In order to do so, the seven missing jewels from Poseidon’s Trident, scattered to the far reaches of the globe, must be found and restored. So far the warriors have located and retrieved all but one of the gems—and have found the loves of their lives along the way.

Now, all that remains is to find Poseidon’s Pride, the final jewel, and only Alaric can accomplish this dangerous mission . . . if he chooses to do so. But he has vowed to remain at the side of the woman he loves and never leave her again, the fates of Atlantis and the entire world be damned.

Thanks for coming along on this amazing journey.

Alyssa

Research note for the fact junkies like me: As you know by now, I love to use historical fact and actual archaeological discoveries in my books. I was delighted to read that archaeologists at Gobekli Tepe in Turkey discovered what is believed to be the world’s oldest temple, dated at approximately eleven thousand years old. Since that is exactly when Atlantis sank beneath the waves in my books, this fit in with the history of my Warriors of Poseidon perfectly. The Smithsonian Magazine reported:

Six miles from Urfa, an ancient city in southeastern Turkey, Klaus Schmidt has made one of the most startling archaeological discoveries of our time: massive carved stones about 11,000 years old, crafted and arranged by prehistoric people who had not yet developed metal tools or even pottery. The megaliths predate Stonehenge by some 6,000 years. The place is called Gobekli Tepe, and Schmidt, a German archaeologist who has been working here more than a decade, is convinced it’s the site of the world’s oldest temple. Read more at http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history-archaeology/gobekli-tepe.html.

We will wait. And watch. And protect.

And serve as first warning on the eve of humanity’s destruction.

Then, and only then, Atlantis will rise.

For we are the Warriors of Poseidon, and the mark of the Trident we bear serves as witness to our sacred duty to safeguard mankind.

The wilderness near Sedona, Arizona, just past twilight

Alaric, sword at the ready, stepped into the path of the oncoming vampire and struck its head from its body before it had a chance to get anywhere near Quinn.

“Stay down,” he shouted at her, another futile plea disguised as a command. She wouldn’t listen. She never listened.

Quinn, all smoldering heat and explosive fury wrapped up in a small, dark-haired package, smiled at him, and he nearly lost his balance.

“A gentleman wouldn’t keep yelling at me,” she said, firing one of the many guns she kept on her at all times. Then firing another. “Why are they attacking now? How did they find us? I’m sick to death of battling vampires and shifters, and it’s bad enough when we know why they’re after us. This? This is just crazy.”

“I never claimed to be a gentleman, and most vampires are, by their very nature, insane,” he said, launching himself into the air toward a pair of wolf shifters that clearly intended to claim either a rebel leader or a high priest of Atlantis—or both—for a late-night snack. The moonlight glinted blue streaks in Quinn’s untidy mop of hair, and he had a fraction of a second to wonder why he was noticing her hair in the midst of a heated battle. Why the scent of her skin and curve of her lips formed the puzzle pieces of his greatest obsession.

He refused to admit the truth of it, even to himself. Battle now. The rest of it later.

Alaric released the energy sword and conjured ice daggers as he flew up and over the shifters, and then hurled both of them down at precisely the exact time and angle needed to simultaneously pierce both of their hearts. They fell, thudding to the ground together in a shapeless mass of unrealized rage and thwarted ambition.

Enemies were here to deal death tonight, and Alaric, who’d been Atlantean warrior and high priest to Poseidon for centuries, had no intention of allowing even one of them to succeed. Not if he could help it.

“Beware,” he called out, but a tiger’s scream drew his attention from Quinn after she shot an attacking wolf shifter.

Jack, one of fewer than a dozen tiger shifters still in existence, fought like a berserker from old, only a dozen paces from where Alaric and Quinn stood. A vampire’s head rolled from its body seconds after Jack struck. Serai, the Atlantean princess Jack protected, trembled and backed away.

“Help Serai,” Quinn shouted at Alaric. “She’s just out of stasis after eleven thousand years. It’s not like she knows how to protect herself from this.”

But seconds later Serai transformed into a beast that had been extinct for millennia, using ancient magic long forgotten. A shimmer of brilliant silver power surrounded her, and then a saber-toothed tiger roared where an Atlantean princess had shivered in the cool night air.

The cacophony of battle, rude and loud and clashing, stilled for a frozen moment in time as attackers and defenders alike swung toward the sound of an ancient, deadly predator. The forest itself froze as nature’s darkest memories conjured up long-forgotten fears.

Quinn’s small guns barked out a warning—once, twice, thrice—and Alaric whirled to find a dead vampire slamming into the ground at his feet. He looked up to meet Quinn’s gaze, all smoke and mystery in the moonlight.

“I may not have any magic, but I do okay,” she said, shrugging her slender shoulders.

Before she’d finished speaking, Alaric was leaping toward her, calling power to himself and forming energy spheres in both hands. The trio of bloodsuckers rushed at Quinn with deadly intent, and Alaric knew that whoever had masterminded this attack had painted a target on her. Kill the North American rebel leader, and maybe the entire human rebellion falls apart.