A Spartan's Kiss (7 page)

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Holding a hand up, she stopped him as easily as he would an insolent soldier. “Let me give you the set-up.” That slender hand rose and once again she started ticking off points—just as she had in the parking lot. “We are on a treasure hunt, not a vacation. I don’t need deets, just movement. The sooner we hit it, yep, that’s right, the sooner we call this a done deal. Now, come on, boys, let’s hit this.”

“You heard her, let’s hit it.” Ajax laughed, clearly amused, while the Bard grinned and stood.

Hand over heart, he bowed at the waist. “I’m called Galen, but I go by the Bard, as well.” Dark eyes and curly, thick, black hair hung to his collar. Galen was the image of a Greek, tall, broad-shouldered and dark of eye and hair. The man had always had a way with words. “I’m honoured to meet such a beautiful, stunning member of the Jade coven.”

Iridescent green eyes focused on Galen with a thoughtful look before she nodded in approval. “You catch on quick, Bard. Compliments always get rewarded.”

Always? Swallowing past the dryness in his throat, Aeros stepped forward.

Aaron stood at the same time and caught her attention. “Aaron, at your service, little lady.”

Aaron hadn’t seemed so alive in centuries. His dark face, bronzed from years under the sun, creased in an unfamiliar flash of white teeth. He’d once had a family of his own, Aeros recalled suddenly. He’d had a daughter, bright and smiling, the light of her father’s eye. Even for a Spartan, Aaron had been fierce, but not to his daughter. He’d spent many years keeping her from the ways of war. Looking at him now, Aeros could see the man who once had defied the King of Sparta himself over the time he’d spent with his family.

“Little lady? Are you like ancient or what?” Tabithia wrinkled her pert, little nose at the solemn warrior.

Aaron eyed her fondly, the unfamiliar smile on his face growing. “Very, it would seem. I am the eldest.”

Looking duly impressed with Aaron’s boast, she grinned up at him. “Uh, yeah, clue? It’s Tabithia, or, if you must, ‘beautiful’, but ‘little lady’? Not a chance.”

Around him, his men softened, apparently liking her straightforward teasing. Stephano moved closer to her, but as she had with Aeros last night, she kept distance between herself and the redheaded warrior. Aeros wasn’t going to examine how much that pleased him.

“I am called Stephano, Tabithia.” Stephano took another step towards her.

Aeros’ shoulders tensed, and he fisted his hands.

Tabithia retreated and rolled her eyes, clearly not impressed with the warrior known for pleasuring whole harems of women in one night.

Stephano looked stunned.

The men chuckled, a dry, unfamiliar sound. Glancing at them, Aeros realised Tabithia not only sparkled to him, she seemed to have entranced his men as easily as she drew breath. Thankfully, none of them looked at her with more than natural curiosity and long-forgotten humour, almost as if she were a younger sister. If even one of his men showed more than that, he’d have to tear some heads off.

Smirking, Stephano fingered his belt and rocked on his feet. Tall, nearly shoulder to shoulder with Aeros, the warrior could and would take a life without a thought, but looking at him, most couldn’t see beyond his too-handsome looks. The weakness had served them well in the past and had earned him the name of Narc, after the self-loving god Narcissus.

Tabithia frowned at him. “Great, that’s great.”

Kiron studied Tabithia from his position on the couch. Meeting his eyes, Aeros nodded for Kiron to introduce himself. For a woman who hadn’t wanted to meet his men, she waited politely for Kiron to sip his water before introducing himself. “Kiron,” he finally said, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to miss this trip.”

She winked at the dark warrior, making the man watch her in growing alarm as she moved closer and eyed his bandaged leg. “Well, for a price I can get that leg up and going.”

“Uh…” Kiron looked uncertainly from Aeros to Tabithia. Aeros couldn’t blame the man, he was confused as well. Kiron had once been involved with a witch, though, and by the look of his ashen expression, he’d rather not have Tabithia using magic on him now.

“Just kidding, I don’t dabble in much healing. Hunting, yep, which reminds me…?” She turned and pinned him easily with her sparkling green eyes. Stepping back from where he’d moved close enough to smell her sweet scent, she motioned to the door with her hand. “And, yeah, towering over me isn’t getting us to the plane any quicker now, is it, Sparkie?” She handed her backpack to over with a nod a queen would envy. “Thanks.”

When he didn’t speak quickly enough for her, she said, “So, let’s go, huh, Sparkie?” Her eyes met his, sizzling in what he assumed was her death-stare. She didn’t appear to notice he wasn’t intimidated. She barely reached his chest. Being worried over what she might do to him was akin to worrying over a small child harming him.

“Sparkie?” The corner of Aaron’s mouth tipped up in a smirk at the question.

Obviously, his men thought this funny. Not one of them seemed anything but humoured by the little witch. What else could they think? She was tiny, perhaps average height for a woman, but she barely came to their chests. Compared to them? She was delicately formed. Fragile.

Aeros mentally shook his head. “We have a jet ready to leave. Is this all you will bring with you? It will be many days of travel, I believe.”

Her frown deepened, marring her smooth, pale brow. Aeros wanted to brush his lips over it, still her worry with his strength.

“I have skills, you do realise that? Right? And, duh, I’m not staying with you, as in spending the nights. I’m off home at night then I’ll come back in the a.m. with doughnuts if you’re all good. If it takes days. I’m betting on less than three.”

She wasn’t staying? “No, you will stay with us, overnights and days. You may not be able to find us if you leave. Anything can happen in the field, we must be—”

Throwing her small arms up in disgust, she started pacing. Obviously leaving them each night was important to her. Just as important to him was her staying. Not merely so he could see if his feelings for her continued to grow, but because his instinct warned him to keep her close. If she left? He sensed she might not come back. Worse, he’d get less time to figure out if there was a bond between them.

His men stood watching with a mixture of amazement and amusement.

“Good grief. Do you always talk things to death? I’ll think about it. Improvise, will ya? Loosen up. Go with the flow.” She stopped pacing a few feet from him and tipped her head back to meet his eyes.

He nodded, silent because she had him so tied in knots he didn’t know what to say. She was deflecting, trying to hide how much staying with them bothered her. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew.

She watched him nod, then sauntered over to Stephano. He’d never in his life dreamed black BDUs would look so damned stunning on a woman’s ass, but Tabithia’s ass in the serviceable gear was intoxicating.

“Okay, lead the way, will you, Red? And why do you have all the colour of the group? Why are you all so dark and, well, dreary?”

Dreary? He wasn’t dreary. He met Aaron’s amused look and frowned back over to watch Tabithia’s lush backside, Stephano at her side.

“Greeks can be like that. I’m not really a Greek. It’s a long story, but I was raised a Spartan all the same.” As Aeros watched, Stephano grinned down at her and said, “Actually, most of us were raised in Sparta, but not many of us were born there.”

His second in command held his arm out for her, and nearly got his head knocked off.

Tabithia eyed him and said, “No touching, Red. Lead the way, though. I’m all ears.”

Stephano didn’t miss a beat. He waved a hand in an exaggerated bow for her to go first. “I’ll tell you all about it on the flight.”

She murmured something about how she’d always wondered how Sparta could have been so strong without importing some Celtic blood.

Aeros could have told her all about his homeland. He could have been the one leading her to the jet, talking with her, chatting over drinks with her.

“Contact me if Dominic calls. He found a Death Stalker cell turning immortals into some sort of beasts. If he finds out anything from the Death Stalker, call me. We should be back in four days, a week at the most,” Aeros warned.

“Beasts?” Ajax frowned, his dark eyes concerned. As he should be. He’d nearly forgotten the young Death Stalker mage Dominic had dumped off at the Immortal Council’s compound. His mind was not where it should be. Staring off after Tabithia, he shrugged duty aside for the first time in centuries. She was his mission now, not the fight with the Death Stalkers. The immortal world would survive without him for a while. The increase in Death Stalker numbers would not be solved by him alone. It was time for him to take something—someone—for himself. Soon, aye, soon he’d have to deal with this new threat, but for now, for the next few days, he was focusing on her.

“Yeah, I’ll fill you in on the way. Kiron, call if any word comes in. If we aren’t back, call the men on break back in and assist Dominic. Talen can lead if you are still immobile. This takes precedence over the enemy.” Talen was on a six-month downtime, but downtime meant nothing in this world. If trouble knocked, they all had to be prepared to answer.

Aeros waited until Kiron nodded before turning back to follow Tabithia. His stomach burned with acid seeing Stephano opening the front door for her.

So, this was what jealousy felt like, he thought, stomping after them.

Chapter Six

Tabithia nibbled on her thumbnail. This was not looking good. So far, she’d spent her time on the luxurious jet creating a nice little chart on Aeros. The column labelled ‘Aeros Is the Immortal I’ve Been Dreading’ was winning over the one labelled ‘Aeros Is Not the Immortal I’ve Been Dreading’.

Yeah, it sucked. When Aeros had said, ‘No, you will be staying with us overnight… blah, blah, blah
,
’ the words had resonated through her like one of those tuning forks musicians used. And, yeah, when she thought about planning to go home at nights to her comfy closet? Eww, fingers down a chalkboard disgusting. Not painful, but gross.

Still, there was hope.

Well, maybe.

The jet was incredible. So sweet Tabithia considered the bennies of convincing Trouble they needed one. A long, cream leather bench lined one side of the plane. Each end had nifty little built-in polished mahogany tables. A mini-fridge built underneath one table was stocked with Rockstar energy drinks. Why an immortal band of warriors needed a boost to their energy was a bit bizarre, but who was she to judge? She’d already had four.

Across from the long couch were two seating arrangements, each able to seat four warriors in big, soft leather recliners that matched the couches. Another mahogany table fitted nicely in between the seats.

The jet rocked. Oh, she enjoyed some sweet perks from her line of work, but this was old-school elegance. She could get very addicted.

Watching a cotton-candy cloud grow larger before they passed too deep inside the billowing white for her to make shapes of the puffiness, Tab considered the big hunky Spartan. Aeros obviously had no clue that he had some sort of power over her. And that was a huge, huge, huge relief. Usually for a spell to work over a witch there had to be something, either physical, like a voodoo doll, or charm, maybe a tattoo. He had a tattoo she’d spotted on his biceps but she doubted the ink was the key. Although the tattoo looked like a Celtic knot, she’d felt nothing when she’d examined what she could of it. But there was something about him or on him that drew her attention. Just what, she couldn’t say. Maybe she could figure out how to make this hunt quick and painless. If she did, he’d never have the time to figure it out—or her.

But the longer she spent with him, the more opportunities he had to shoot his big mouth off. And order her about. The man didn’t seem to speak in anything but clipped, short, direct phrases backed by a hint of steel.

“That’s not good for your nails.”

Next to her in one of the plush, leather seats, the big, tough redhead, Stephano, shifted his long legs out in front of him. The older Spartan, Galen, had called him Narc. When she’d given him a questioning glance he’d explained that the too-handsome redhead could compete with the Greek god Narcissus for his way with the women. Funny, she didn’t think him nearly as hot as Aeros.

She glanced over at him, and he flashed his pearly whites.

She shifted so she could see him better and settled in for a chat. He looked at her like she might bite, but, hey, what could she say? She’d been a bit snippy with the boys so far. She could play nice, though.

“And how’s that?”

He folded his arms across his hard stomach and tilted his head at her. “Well, I read it’s bad for your teeth and nails.”

Okay, she was willing to be distracted from her dismal thoughts. This had to be first-rate funny. Some of her amusement must have shown because he looked uneasily over at her. Bets were he’d read that little titbit in a girly magazine.
Woman’s Day
or something equally funny. He darted a look across from them to Galen—correction, the Bard—before he looked back over at her with a sheepish grin.

She lifted a brow and hid her grin. “Oh? And where did you read this?”

Sure enough, Narc shifted and reached up to fiddle with his ear. After a bit of that, he screwed his face up like she’d asked him if he’d had sex with her aunt.

“He reads women’s magazines,” the Bard said.

She popped Narc in the arm playfully and grinned. He actually blushed a bit. Hilarious. The Bard laughed, and she switched her attention to him. Aeros sat next to the Bard, but she was so not looking at him. She’d managed to avoid looking at him the entire flight. Frustrating as hell, too, since all she wanted to do was stare at him for hours. From her peripheral vision, she saw his hunky scowl but refused to focus on him. No way. No how. Nuh-uh. With a great deal of concentration, she managed to examine Galen without comparing him to Aeros. Shaggy, black, curly hair, a cleft chin, pale, full lips, he was a ladykiller of the top order.