Read Online Heart Of Atlantis by Alyssa Day - Free Book Online Page A

layer of tarnish to the rusted remains of his conscience, but did not in the least tempt him to give her up.
    At least Alaric had stopped casually plotting ways to kill Jack whenever he thought of Jack with Quinn. That was progress, of a sort.
    “That is one scary expression on your face, my friend,” Ven said. The prince folded his arms over his chest. “Do I even want to know what’s on your mind?”
    “Your wants are of no concern to me. My mind is my own. I leave now to confront this fake Ptolemy. Once he’s dead, and I retrieve the gem, our problems will diminish.”
    Ven shook his head. “Not by much. The world still knows that Quinn is a rebel leader. That bell can’t be unrung. She’s done being safe—or, for that matter, going undercover—forever. And we should check in with Conlan and the rest of the Seven and find out if they even know what’s going on. It’s not like they get CNN in Atlantis.”
    “Fine. You check in. I’m going to New York.” Alaric called to the portal, belatedly wondering if it would even answer, if Noriko truly was the portal spirit or presence who had directed its magic.
    A shimmering oval of light answered his question, but before entering he stopped and addressed it, feeling a fool.
    “You. Spirit of the portal. Can you speak in that form?”
    Silence was his only answer, which was no answer at all.
    “Fine. Take me to the Plaza Hotel in New York,” he commanded, as he stepped into the swirling magic.
    As the vortex took him, Ven followed.
    “Somebody needs to save your ass,” the prince said.
    “Whatever you say, Your Highness.”
    “Call me that again, and I’ll
kick
your ass instead.”
    The portal deposited them in what appeared to be a garden or park, in a stand of trees. The rich scent of plants, flowers, and trees, with an underlying touch of metal and machine, infused the night air, and stars twinkled overhead.
    “Night here, day in Japan. The time zone change is messing with my brain,” Ven said.
    “Where are we?” Alaric demanded.
    “This is Central Park. See that overgrown mansion of a building? That’s the Plaza. Finest hotel in New York.” Ven grinned. “I met this brunette in the Champagne Bar once—”
    “Yes, I’ll be sure to tell Erin all about that.” Alaric had even less patience than usual with the prince’s banter. Quinn’s
life
was in danger. Rage thrummed through his bones and his blood like the war cry of ancient tribal drums.
    A look of pure horror crossed Ven’s face. “You wouldn’t do that. Erin knows she’s the only woman for me. I was just— Never mind. Let’s find this Ptolemy.”
    Alaric headed out of the trees and toward the hotel, not caring whether Ven followed or not. This bastard of a pretender had put Quinn in danger.
    Ptolemy had to die.
    “Did you tell Quinn you were leaving?”
    “She won’t even notice I’m gone before I return with the news of Ptolemy’s defeat,” Alaric said grimly, acknowledging, if only to himself, how quickly he’d been forced to break his vow never to leave her. But her life itself was at stake—he’d had no choice.
    The portals to the nine hells were built with good intentions, too, or so the old stories went. Good intent or avid self-interest? At times the barrier between the two was as thin as a coward’s resolve.
    Ven caught up with him, whistling under his breath. “Mistake. Big mistake.”
    Probably. Every step Alaric took with Quinn was a mistake. But he had many long years to work on doing better. For now he’d do what he did best—battle his enemies.
    Kill them all.
    He stared up at the luxe hotel, wishing he could see through the walls. But he had the next best ability—he could sense Atlantean magic. And, like it or not, at least that much of the pretender’s claim must be true, unless there were another Atlantean inside the building wielding control over the elements. He could feel the pounding pulse of incredibly strong power coming from one of the upper