Sherrilyn Kenyon: The Dream-Hunter

Geary shook her head at Tory before she responded. "Why does it always have to be about you, Thia?"

"Because it is." And with that, she flounced off.

Tory let out a tired breath. "One day I hope she finds someone who can put her in her place. I'm tired of watching her emasculate poor Scott. I swear she has to be part succubus."

"Oh, don't go there. I wouldn't wish her on anyone."

"Good point." Tory paused before she turned a probing stare on Geary. "So tell me what happened."

As if she wanted to relive that misery. "Not much to say. They refused to give us permits… again."

Tory actually stomped her foot. "Ah, man. That's so not fair."

"I know," she said, patting Tory's arm. "We just have to be patient."

"To heck with patience. At the rate they're going, I'll be in retirement and will have to dig with a cane." She let out a sound of supreme disgust. "This is the closest we've ever been to finding the city. I know Atlantis is right there. I can feel it!"

A chill went down Geary's spine. Tory was just a little too close to their fathers in personality for her tastes. The same insanity that had possessed them drove Tory, too. It was like a madness in her blood that kept her working late into the night after everyone else had retired.

There were times when it truly scared Geary. All of the people in their family who'd ever shared Tory's level of dedication had met with an early death. It would destroy not only Geary but also their grandfather should anything ever happen to their youngest family member.

She was what they lived for.

Then again, Geary had often suspected that Tory used it as a way to distract herself from the pain she felt at being an orphan. The poor thing had no memory of either of her parents. Their work was the only way Tory could feel close to them. It was all they'd left their daughter.

"It'll be all right, Triantafyllo." Geary used the nickname their grandfather had given Tory. "Now I'm going to lie down for a bit and see if I can stop some of this headache that's brewing."

"Okay. I'll be below with Scott and Teddy reviewing the data that will be absolutely useless if we can't excavate. But what the heck? I'm young and have plenty of time to waste. You on the other hand…"

Geary blew her a raspberry. "I'm not that much older than you."

As she sashayed off, Tory tossed back, "Yeah, uh-huh. Get a cane, Grandma."

Geary shook her head at Tory's play, then cringed as pain sliced through her brow and throbbed behind her eyes.

Brian frowned as he joined her on deck. "Are you okay?"

"Another headache." She'd been getting a lot of those lately. Of course with her luck, it was an inoperable brain tumor and she'd probably end up at Thia's mercy so that heir cousin could finally torture her without end… perish that thought. "I'll be fine. I just need to lie down for a few minutes."

"If you need anything, call."

I need a permit. Hello?

If only she could say that out loud and not lose her much-needed funding.

"I will. Thanks." And with that, Geary headed belowdecks to the small room she shared with Tory. There wasn't a lot of privacy on a research boat, but honestly it didn't bother Geary. Not like it had when she'd been Tory's age. The difference between them was striking.

While Geary had hated the lack of personal space, Tory was ambivalent to it. All the girl cared about was their quest.

But even with their differences, Geary adored her cousin. Tory was the closest thing she'd ever had to a sister, and since Tory's parents had died before the girl reached six, their entire family had embraced her and raised her as their own.

Geary smiled as she entered their room and found Tory's nightgown and matted old brown teddy bear tossed onto her bed. Tory wasn't known for her neatness.

"Okay, Mr. Cuddles, you have to stay on your side. Don't keep sneaking to my bed. I have a tendency to kick in my sleep." Geary set the bear on Tory's unmade bed, then folded the pink flannel gown before she placed it under Mr. Cuddles.

A light smile toyed on the edges of her lips. She could hear muffled voices overhead as the boat rocked softly under her, lulling her into a bit of a stupor. She really did need some rest. Her sleep had been fitful lately. Probably a result of having too much on her mind.

Toeing off her shoes, she pulled back her spread and tucked herself into the narrow bed.

She fell asleep almost immediately.

The noises of the boat faded as she drifted through her dream darkness that was laced with white mist and a cooling breeze. Ever since she'd been a child, Geary had been able to rapidly fall into REM sleep… usually within five minutes, which was virtually unheard of. It was a strange sleeping disorder that no doctor had ever been able to explain.

Her dreams flowing, she found herself standing on a dark beach where the snowcapped waves crashed against a foreign shore. The sound echoed in her ears as she curled her bare toes into the wet, black sand.

"Megeara." The deeply masculine voice was warm and erotic as it rolled with an accent so exotic and strange that it whispered through Geary like brandy-laced hot chocolate. Rich. Smooth.

Intoxicating.

She groaned in her dreams as her mysterious lover appeared behind her. As always, he was breathtakingly handsome, with long black hair that tangled in the wind and with eyes so clear and blue, they seemed to glow, Every angle of his face was perfectly sculpted, and those mesmerizing eyes were set off by a pair of black brows that slashed above them. He wrapped his tanned arms around her and pulled her back against his wickedly bare chest that dipped and curved with perfect muscles.

He was divinity.

Absolute seduction.

And for the moment, he was all hers…

Closing her eyes, she allowed the scent of his raw, earthy maleness to seep into her until it made her completely drunk with pleasure. She leaned her head to the left as his hot lips brushed against her neck so that he could tenderly lick and caress her skin until her entire body burned.

She didn't know why she kept having these wildly erotic dreams. Why this incredibly sexy man haunted her. After all, Geary Kafieri wasn't known for her sensuality or femininity. Geary was as tough as nails. She'd spent her entire life fighting for her own beliefs, fighting to be her own person, and those battles hadn't left her time to cultivate the more girlie pastimes of makeup, hair, and feminine wiles.

From the moment she'd started down this path of restoring her father's reputation, she'd been trying to prove to herself to her colleagues and investors. That she could not only compete in a male-dominated field but also rule it.

And she'd succeeded admirably. So what if she wasn't the most ladylike of women? She had her accolades and had taken her father's failing company and turned it around in less than three years after his death. Kafieri Salvage was now one of the top companies in Greece, and while she'd rebuilt her father's company she'd managed to carry on his private research.

That had always been enough for her.

Or so she'd thought until that sultry night two months ago when Arikos had first appeared in her dreams.

From the moment she'd laid her unconscious eyes on him, she'd been captivated.

He turned her around in his arms to face him. Biting her lip, Geary looked up into his searing blue eyes. He wore a pair of black leather pants and boots with nothing else. His wavy hair flowed around his face as the gentle breeze teased it, and strands of it became caught in the whiskers of his cheeks.

"What has you upset today, agamenapee ?" he asked in that tone that never failed to send a shiver over her.

Geary leaned her head against the hollow of his muscular shoulder so that she could just breathe in his scent and let it soothe her.