A Spartan's Kiss (13 page)

Maybe because, for once, she didn’t want to run from what her reaction might be to a man if he touched her. Held her. Kissed her.

Dreams were all she would be losing. No way could she be happy with someone, and chances were? They’d not be happy with her.

Ah, well. Life, it sucked at times.

Chapter Nine

Aeros couldn’t stop pacing—back and forth, back and forth in front of where Tabithia had disappeared. Just like on the plane, he had a feeling she still sat where he’d last seen her, but had somehow hidden herself. It pissed him off.

Why did he think she still lingered here? He could smell her.

She smelt like sugar-coated cinnamon, not this damp heat making him sweat even more than ever, but a soft, warm hint of something pure and clean. Before she’d smelt like jasmine and reminded him of the flowers blooming from patios and street vendors in his long ago home, Sparta. Now? She drove him nuts with that sugary scent. He wanted to lick her like candy, suck on her sweet-scented body and consume her.

He could close his eyes, if he wanted to look like a total fool, and scent her even now. Bets were she was sitting where he’d last seen her.

Scrying.

Whatever she was doing, it was taking too long.

“Aeros, man, you’ve got to settle down.” Aaron sounded amused.

Glancing at his men, he frowned, realising they were all watching him. All wore different expressions, but most were amused.

The Bard nodded. “You’ve got it bad, brother. Best try to temper your words if you wish to win her over.”

“No more ‘ordering’, seriously. She is one woman you can’t expect to follow your lead simply because you order it.” Narc wore a smirk he wanted to pound off his too-handsome face.

Ajax snorted. “Follow? She’d probably have to be dragged kicking and screaming. Not that a fine temper isn’t good in bed. She’s a wild cat, Aeros, best be wary.”

“Wild but very beautiful. Best try to smile more. And be kind. Don’t be so gruff,” Aaron suggested.

Gruff? Pausing, he levelled them all with a look such comments deserved. “I am not gruff, nor do I wish you to speak of her in such a way. If you have time to talk, you have time to prepare a meal. She should eat. We’ve—”

“I’m not even close to hungry, but thanks.”

Spinning in place, he was confronted with not only Tabithia, but a softly smiling Tabithia. Immediately, his guard went up. Something was not right. Something was very wrong. This woman used a smile the way he used a scowl. His balls drew up in something close to fear. His skin prickled. He met her icy, emerald eyes, only then realising he was holding his breath.

“Don’t look so surprised. I told you I don’t like an audience when I scry. Now, ready to hit it?”

She had told him something about not wanting them to watch her, but he’d assumed she would be here to watch. Next time, she would be. He’d simply order his men not to look at her.

“You—”

“Are ready to go. So, let’s hit it.”

“Tabithia.”

She stopped from turning away but the smile faded from her beautiful face and the fury he guessed she tried to hide from him lay spread out before him on her delicate features. She blinked and plastered on her fake smile again.

He tried to recall what he was going to say, but it became impossible with her standing there merely watching him and waiting. If he had to guess, she itched for an argument.

Ares, what the fuck did you get me into?
No answer was forthcoming, but he wasn’t surprised. He’d never shared that close a bond with his god. Still, the god had some explaining to do when next Aeros stood in front of the arrogant jackass. He barely held in a vile curse, recalling that she didn’t like him cursing, and managed to ask, “What did you learn?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically and blew out a breath as if he were asking her to give him the impossible. Give? The woman didn’t give anything. Why was that, he wondered?

“Well, I learned we have around two days to go. A few more hours of this”—waving her arm in a sweeping gesture, she indicated the jungle—“then perhaps one more, two at the most in a cave, well, I’m guessing a cave system.”

“A cave system?”

“Yes, we need to keep going. Soon enough we’ll be out of this jungle, but don’t get your hopes up, because first we need to find the entrance. From there, it will be a few days, tops, before we can fetch your god’s godhead.”

She sounded more like a snarling cat than a witch when she spat out the word godhead.

Obviously, the chalice wasn’t his god’s godhead. And if it wasn’t that, then what was it? Ares had lied to him. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was.

Something about what she said didn’t ring true. Holding her gaze with his, he waited. He’d learned long ago, silence often proved the best attack when people chose to lie to him. Surprisingly, Tabithia didn’t even fidget. She stood watching him, her left eyebrow rose, and she grinned up at him, red head tilted to the side. He thought he heard a cough from one of his men that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

“Are you having trouble following?”

Following? For some reason he felt like he’d follow her wherever she went, forever. The image of doing just that with her in a pair of black thigh-highs and a laced-up bodice had him sweating even more. Somehow, he even pictured a little pink bow at the top of her curvy bottom, right where the black lace of her thong would caress her perfect ass. Would she dress thus for him?

“Spartan, are you listening to me?”

He focused on her face and felt his face grown hot, realising he’d been fantasising on his sexy image of her more than Tabithia herself. His erection strained against his BDUs with a vengeance. He feared she’d hear the pulse each time he sucked in a shallow breath.

“Spartan?”

“Yes, I understand you.”

Both eyebrows up, she shook her head and gave him a bemused smile. “Okay dokey then, let’s hit it.”

She turned and was partway past his men when he caught her upper arm. Before he could blink, she had the silver tip of a knife up to his throat. The cool sting surprised him. He felt blood drip down his neck.

“There is no touching, Spartan.”

Slowly, he released her arm. An emotion—fear, he thought—shifted over her face, before it quickly disappeared. For a brief instant, he thought he glimpsed pain as well. He’d barely touched her, yet she had reacted as if he were the enemy. What kind of life did she lead?

He swore he could feel the coolness of her slim arm, where he’d so briefly caressed her, easing the blaze burning him alive. His cock throbbed, demanding things he’d not thought of in centuries. If ever.

Why? Why her? Why now? Had Ares known? Ares’s last words to him made his anger simmer to the point of real rage. Had his god sent him here, knowing Tabithia was his? Had Ares known he would be forced into this situation? The chalice was obviously much more than he’d been led to believe. Sweat beaded his brow and he reached up to wipe it off before it dripped into his eyes. The chalice had to be trapping a witch. How else could it attack them and cause Tabithia such anger?

Face set in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she dropped her hand, twirled the slim butterfly knife, snapping the blade back into the two separate pieces that acted both as a hilt and sheath. She looked off balance, unsure, almost, as if she were hiding her unease with anger. Did she feel what he did for her? The draw? Attraction?

“I simply wanted to have you answer my question, Tabithia. I did not mean to startle you.”

She made to go again, and this time he let her. She’d not answered all his questions, but she would. Soon. They must fetch this being. If she was a witch wrongly held by Ares, he would bargain for her release. Surely, his god would see he couldn’t keep another immortal in such a way. Surely.

He ignored his doubts and concentrated on keeping up with Tabithia. Control. He simply had to gain control of his body again. His erection needed to back down. His body heat needed to stop as well. He’d been too hot for weeks. Perhaps longer. The heat had made him so uncomfortable he’d even called Dominic. Not that the mage had answered his call. He should have mentioned it when he’d dropped over to see Dominic about Tabithia, but he’d forgotten.

Up ahead, Tabithia swung a look back over her shoulder as she paused to climb over a massive tree blocking their path. “We should hunt out a place to stop for the night in a few hours, just in case there are any more surprises in store for us.”

“Surprises?” Narc grumbled.

She laughed, a soft, melodious sound that nearly had him stumbling. She had a sexy laugh—soft and sweet. Something sharp lodged in his chest at the sound. Did she laugh often? From all he’d learned about her, and that was not much, she was a strong witch, gifted from a strong coven and a strong line of witches. Rumour held that her aunts were more protective of her than mother bears of their cub. Some rumours held that Tabithia sought danger, raced mortals on motorcycles, fought in bar fights and immortal fight clubs, and was a mercenary for hire.

Watching her slim back and rounded, firm backside in her black fatigues, he couldn’t imagine her in battle. The feel of her knife gave him pause, but the short sword had stayed at her back. Could she wield such a blade?

Throughout the rest of the day, he had enough time to think about her obsessively. She wouldn’t respond to most of his questions and, when she did, she hushed him more times than not. Even when she stopped along the overgrown trail, she’d not tell him what had caused her alarm. Each time, she would halt in her tracks like a deer sensing danger before she’d continue on again several moments later. If he had to guess, she saw things he and his men couldn’t track.

And he had to guess. She wasn’t speaking. In words, that was. Oh, she spoke volumes with her disgusted looks. He doubted, if push came to shove, she would have their backs in another assault.

He’d suggested stopping once—only once. She’d muttered something about men being such babies and kept marching.

The heat was gruelling. The pace? Not so hard. The stopping and starting, though, was driving him close to madness.

He’d hoped to have time to talk to her. Warm up to her. He was a good man, a solid dependable immortal. He’d never harmed a woman. He’d never stray from her. He’d provide her with a safe home. He was focused on his men, he could see that, but that was a good quality for a man. Wasn’t it? He could protect her, and, if not, his men would.

An image of her parting that damn flood of water nagged at him because in essence she didn’t need him to protect her. Did she?

And why in the name of Hades was he even thinking thoughts like this about her? Dominic had said he believed the Spartans could have true bonds, but that didn’t mean Tabithia was his.

No matter how hard he tried not to think of her as his, or in his life, or a part of him, he couldn’t stop. It was nerve-racking. Insane. She was an immortal witch. She would live a long life, but not an eternity like he would. Well, at least that was what he assumed. He had no idea if he’d live forever or until next week. But, no matter how long he lived, what would he hope to have with her? She would hate him when he took the chalice back to Ares. Even if he could win the witch’s freedom upon return to Ares, Aeros wasn’t fooled into thinking Tabithia would believe him if he told her he’d try.

No, Tabithia wasn’t letting the other witch go so easily. She’d not simply accept his word. She distrusted him now. She saw him as a reflection of his god—a god who had imprisoned one of her own kind. She’d fight him. The thought of fighting her made him physically ill.

“Well, this is it…”

His brain stalled over what she referred to for a moment longer than it should.

“This what, Tabithia?”

She waved a hand behind her and stepped away to reveal what looked like a pit in the floor of the jungle. Thick, dark brown vines criss-crossed an opening looking more like a gaping mouth than an entrance to a cave. The vines and lush green foliage covered it to the point that he could barely make out jagged edges. He saw enough to know he didn’t want her anywhere near it.

“Damn, woman, that’s a bit of a thing, isn’t it?” Narc muttered.

Ajax walked over to where she indicated and shoved some of the vines aside. He shook his head and glowered up at them. “Looks like a rabbit hole to me.”

The Bard nodded in agreement. “More like a damn snake hole.”

“Did I ask for opinions? Or even debate it? You want this godhead, right? Well, that’s where it is,” she snapped.

Aaron’s eyebrows rose but he stayed silent.

Narc wasn’t so smart. “Well, fuck, that’s a tight squeeze, isn’t it? And it’s not as if you aren’t already pissed off like a cat around a Rottweiler.”

“Stephano, enough.”

“Huh, a cat around a Rottweiler, huh?” She sized Narc up like she was imagining slicing him up with her blade to feed to the dogs. “Well, cute, but still, not going to help out, is it? This is where the little cup is, so we head down, or give up, turn tail and head home. I get paid either way.” She crossed her arms under her breasts and glared up at him for some reason.

He shot a look at Narc, who rubbed his hand over his mouth, no doubt hiding a smirk. He glanced at Tabithia and nodded.

 “Thought so. So, I hope no one minds bats, spiders, and oh, I dunno, all those creepy, crawling things that live in warm, moist, dark places.” She wiggled her fingers and smirked. Her pink lips pouted in a mockery of sympathy when the men all grumbled.

Ajax shoved the vines away, clearing more of the hole in the earth. A moist, decaying smell came from the cave, making Aeros’ skin crawl. Ajax must have not heard their debate, or the stubborn man didn’t care.

“This can’t be right. The chalice is down here? How the name of Hades did it get down here?” Ajax demanded, standing and glaring down at Tabithia. His light hair had fallen out of his leather band, shadowing his face, but Aeros saw the stubborn set to his jaw. Ajax had once been trapped in the earth when they’d fought the Death Stalkers in a battle on the coast of Ireland. When the tide had risen, he’d choked on water, barely managing to stay above the high tide. No doubt he didn’t relish stepping into a cave again.