Page 71 of Hunters and Prey

“Strictly in Atlantian waters. We’re nine thousand meters below the surface, where humans do not travel, concealed beneath an illusory cloud and enough magic to dissuade any would-be adventurers from discovering our home.”

He cocked a brow at her. “An anti-people spell?”

She flashed him a dazzling smile. “It’s that or leave them to the megalodons. Here, veer right and we’ll pass Port Cyrene. If…you’re interested in seeing one of our cities. The barrier enchantments won’t affect you since you’re in one of our vessels.”

“IfI’m interested? Lady, you really don’t know me.”

Elpis didn’t know him, but everything about Matteo Rossi made her want to know him. Unfortunately, her interest had surpassed a purely professional level. They passed Port Cyrene, the city on their starboard side. Even though it was a fraction of Atlantis’s size, the military installation had a beauty of its own.

“It’s like…like a city in a snow globe,” Matteo breathed. “But all the buildings are made of—is that coral?”

“It is.”

She took pleasure in the wonder on his face and the unconcealed awe in his green eyes. Then a giant squid passed by on their portside, chasing a bloom of bioluminescent jellyfish. Matteo’s astonished gaze darted to the ocean predator. Granting him all the time he needed to take it all in, Elpis reclaimed the controls and coasted at minimal speed.

“What do you think of Cyrene?”

“I think I’ve seen the second most beautiful thing in the world.”

Her brows raised. “What’s most beautiful?”

Matteo’s gaze met hers and held it. Her mouth went dry, and her palms itched from the urgent need to do anything but grip the fucking steering column while an incredibly sexy man undressed her with his eyes. Any coherent thoughts related to glider instruction disintegrated beneath a metric ton of lust worsened by the maddening throb between her thighs.

Seven months. That’s how much time had passed since she’d last bedded a man, and that had blown up in her face like a malfunctioning ballast tank. Elpis wet her lips and searched for words that wouldn’t be an offer to ride him in the co-pilot’s chair miles below sea level. She’d once read in a romance novel that humans had something called the mile-high club. She wondered if Matteo would be open to founding one for sexual liaisons in the ocean.

“Sergeant Zeuxis to Commander Elpis,” a friendly voice cut in over the comms. “My squad and I are disembarking from the Anemone with the rest of GHOST team.”

Elpis jerked toward the console and tapped the button. “Excellent,” she replied, swearing internally. “Rendezvous in fifteen.”

Before an awkward silence could fall between them, Matteonudged the lever with his foot and reclaimed the controls. “Are you going to teach me to fire the guns any time soon, or is this just a sightseeing trip? Because I can get behind either.”

She laughed. “We’ll fire the guns tomorrow. Today is all about you becoming acquainted with the controls. That was a call from Zeuxis requesting our return to the Black Anemone to meet with your squad. Take us up.”

“Sure.” He looked confident while controlling the glider, his hands moving into position before he guided them into the ascent. “Mind if I ask a question, El?”

El. She liked the way that one syllable sounded from his lips. “Go ahead.”

“If you’re a medic, why are you assigned a vessel of your own? I noticed the rod of Asclepius on the portside fin. If I had to compare one of these to anything from our human military, I’d consider it a fighter jet. We don’t give combat medics fighter jets, but we do assign paramedics in the civilian world to ambulances or emergency choppers. Would I be correct to assume the same is true here?”

She laughed. “You’re right. Most combat medics in the Myrmidon forces aren’t assigned their own coral glider. But I’m not most medics. As a commander, it’s important for me to travel where I’m needed during battle to retrieve the fallen or administer emergency care. The rest of the medics under my command travel in the company of our artillery gliders or swim with the infantry. In Atlantis, I have about three dozen excellent riders who travel with the cavalry. I’ve divided them and made my assignments according to our current needs. If our infantry are suffering incredible losses, that’s where I put the most of my trained men.”

“How do you know that?”

“From within my glider, I monitor the vitals of every armored Myrmidon out on the field. Unless our telemetry malfunctions, I know exactly where to find them.”

“Ah. Got it.” He glanced over a shoulder to the spear mounted behind them, above their heads. “So that brings me to another question. What the hell is left for your infantry to do when you have men piloting these things? How often does that spear actually see use?”

“Often enough. All combat medics are armed, and some of us specialize in water magic.” One out of ten combat medics came from noble blood, high mers who answered the calling to serve their kingdom in battle. “The men we save aren’t always in the clear when we go in to pull them out.”

“Still don’t get why that little spear did more damage than my bullets.”

“Little?” she started, only to see the playful smile on his face. He held up both hands in surrender before she lit into him. “Atlantian tridents and spears are made from rare precious metal found only in the depths of the Atlantic—metals blessed by our priests to defeat the Gloom.” When Matteo raised a brow, she continued without acknowledging his skepticism. “You’ll find anything else insufficient for fighting Calypso’s curse, no more effective than throwing sticks and rocks at orcas.”

“You think we can pick up everything we need to learn about the Gloom in six weeks?”

Elpis pursed her lips and gazed through the viewport at the hazy realm of blue surrounding them. She had no doubt Colonel Rossi could do anything he put his mind to accomplishing. Mastering their craft would just be a minor footnote on the tenacious man’s list of achievements. “Yes,” she replied. “I do.”

---