A Spartan's Kiss (9 page)

Swallowing, she jerked her gaze off the man and out of the side window. Goddess, she was losing her mind. What was going on with her? Why was she cataloguing all his hottie qualities?

“Hey, don’t go on that hunt without me, then, okay? I’ll be back in no time and then we can hit the trail.”

“Sure, Tabithia. You’re one busy witch. Jesus.”

“Hey, hey, no disrespecting the gods. Geesh, you’re going to jinx me.”

“Right, like you can’t fix that. Well, I gotta go, chica.”

She grinned at the attempt at humour. Sammie was cool, a wicked witch in her own right, but so damn focused she made Sorcha look like fun at times. Tabithia glanced back over at Aeros, a shock flowing through her at seeing him again. He had such dark lashes, she noticed. Why did men have such beautiful eyes? Hers were a watery imitation of Trouble’s bright jade and Sorcha’s brilliant sea-green.

“That’s cool. I hope you find something. Buzz me, and we’ll hit the clubs, right?”

A laugh and she could just see Sammie shaking her head and smiling. The smiles were rare. “Yeah, that sounds good. And Tabithia? Be careful. Don’t mess with gods, or their followers.”

“Right, got that memo.”

“Right. May the Three guide you, Tabithia.”

“Yeah, back at ya. Later, Sammie.”

Settling into her seat more comfortably she clipped the phone closed and fiddled with the thing before letting her spell slip off. The men didn’t jump this time, but they didn’t look pleased. Aeros looked furious. Didn’t like his orders disobeyed, huh? Well, she’d decided he needed a little lesson.

“Where did you go? Don’t—”

She cut him off. It seemed best. She needed to set up some ground rules before he ordered her to do something she just couldn’t do.

“Hey, buddy, listen up to the way it’s going to be.” She pointed a thumb at her chest. “I do what I want. I will find your little cup, but that’s it. I don’t take orders. I’m not one of your boys, I’m the king on this trip, and, from now on, zip it or all bets are off. You need me. Save the world and all that. But guess what? I couldn’t care less about the world. So, that means, you’d better straighten up and fly right or I call this little adventure done. Got it?”

By the time she was done, she was standing, hands out and her power flowing from one, her butterfly knife in the other. Finally the anger she should be feeling was blocking the threat this man posed. And the attraction.

Aeros blinked once. His black eyebrows drew down in a sharp V above his nose, making him look fierce and sexy all at once.

“I don’t think so, little one. We struck a deal. You will—”

She hissed. “Stop with the orders or I walk, Sparkie.”

Yeah, she was so good at lying, it was an art form.

He stayed quiet for as long as it took him to open his mouth.

“I wasn’t ordering you—”

“Yep, you were.” She tossed her knife, letting the sharp edge spin over her knuckles before she repeated the toss and spin again.

“Yeah, you were. You tend to speak in orders, Aeros. She has a point, we need her. Just let her do it as her nature requires,” Aaron muttered.

“My nature?” Drilling the older Greek with a glare, Tabithia snapped her knife in its sheath and slipped it back in its place on her hip. “Look, I’m hitting a bed. Wake me by knocking politely on my door. If not? You might find one of these”—she patted her favourite knife meaningfully and watched Aeros frown harder, which felt like he’d poured gasoline on her already hot temper—“in your gut or yourself croaking like a toad. Later, boys.”

Oddly enough, walking away and leaving Aeros standing with his mouth gaping open wasn’t as much fun as she would have thought. Somehow, it felt like she was running in fear, not stomping off in victory.

Chapter Seven

Aeros paced the length of the jet. At least they had landed so he could pace outside the damn thing. Tabithia was still inside. Getting ready, she’d said. Scrying, she’d said. Not ready yet, she’d said.

He’d knocked. Several times. Damn it. He was a man of action. And he wanted her. He wanted her so bad it damn well was going to drive him insane.

Now she was hiding. Or torturing him. He’d been fine when she was right there—jasmine-and-mint-scented-sex-goddess there. His mood had darkened the moment she’d left the main cabin. No amount of planning for the mission, or listening to his men talking, or walking the aisle of the jet had helped. He’d wanted to see her.

And she’d been in a bed. A bed on the jet. Within yards of him. And in a bed. What he would do in a bed with her had nearly driven him over the edge. Sweat dripped down his flanks, his body felt too hot, and his temper, something he had never had a problem with before he met her, beat at him as insistently as his cock.

Somehow he’d managed to stay away. Not knocked on her door with an excuse, any excuse, to see her. She’d yelled at him. Shouted. He’d seen women do such things before, when their men had done something foolish, in his opinion, but he’d never had a woman shout at him. His fists hurt from clenching them so hard. All he’d wanted to do was drag her into his arms and kiss her. Have her respond with that much fire to his kiss.

He didn’t order her around. He certainly didn’t order her around like one of his men. His men said he did. Aaron even suggested, if he wanted to bed her, he needed to work on his roughness. Narc, the ladies’ man, had offered to warm her up for him.

He needed a good fight. He needed to punch something or someone. His next pass, he punched the side of the jet so hard he left a fist-sized impression in the metal. Damn it.

“Down, boy, that has got to hurt, and if not, it can’t be good for our only mode of transportation, right?”

Aeros twisted around and there she was. His breath lodged in his throat. Goddess of all that was beautiful. Dressed in black again, but this time her strawberry blonde hair caressed her face in a tousled mix of colour. She reminded him of a small pixie he’d once encountered in the forests of Russia. At least until you took in the snug, long-sleeved, black top covering breasts he wanted to cup in each hand. Tabithia was like pure oxygen with a kick.

“Aren’t you going to be too hot?” Sweat dripped down his back, soaking his combat gear. People got sick from becoming too hot. He didn’t want her overheating and getting sick. She could get jungle fever or something equally painful.

She quirked her beautiful eyebrow and gave him the head-to-toe look again like he’d said something stupid. “Uh, you’re one to talk.”

Before he could open his mouth to tell her he could handle the heat, she continued.

“So, it’s not near, but I’m up for a hike. You?”

A hike. The godhead, yes, that important, vital mission for Ares. Not up as in going back inside, stripping down, and loving every inch of Tabithia.

He had to grit his jaw tight to gain some control. He needed to get his head in the game—if he could. It felt like his brain slowed to a crawl whenever Tabithia drew near. Until she stood before him, he could think, hell, he could speak even. Trying to shake whatever was happening to his brain, he cleared his throat.

“I am. I don’t want you harmed, though, so stay close to me. You’ll be in the middle, Narc has point, the Bard is scouting the area, and Aaron will take up the rear. I’ll be next to you.”

She shook her head before he had even finished. He had to fight a grin. Was this to be a habit? His life had been full of hardship, war, and simple duty. Now this little bit of a witch seemed to blur all those years with her vibrancy and mischief. It was there, the playfulness, just below the surface, simmering up and flowing out of her to include those around her. She could make the sun appear dim, he thought—just by smiling.

“No way, Sparkie.” One black-tipped thumbnail hit the spot between her breasts he wanted to kiss. He jerked his eyes up to her face and kept them there by sheer determination. He’d nearly survived every battle he’d been in—he could keep his damn eyes off her breasts. She made a face as if he was being dense and said, “I have to be front. How will I know what we’re running into? And, believe me, you’ll want me up front. Traps are layered out there. Layered. It’s a jungle, man. A jungle.”

“Traps? The godhead has set up protections?”

“Yep, the godhead.” She stressed the word and gave him a long look.

He nodded. She’d said something before about the godhead, as if she thought it more than a relic, but something living. It was a whole lot more dangerous for one, but it wasn’t alive.

As he stood there, watching her, her cheeks turned rosy, and she glanced down at her boots. She cleared her throat before continuing. Was he making her nervous? Was that a good thing? He hoped it meant she felt even a small amount of interest in him.

“So, yeah, the chalice has set up some traps—traps meant to keep us out—which seems odd, right? Unless there is a magic user in possession of the thing, how could an object, godhead, cup, whatever, set traps?”

He didn’t answer but she didn’t wait long before nervously going on to say, “If I’m not in front, I can’t sense spells and counter them. It’s what you brought me along for, remember?”

“Yes. I remember, Tabithia.” How could he forget he’d not brought her here to dance for him, naked, with only a small golden chain around her waist so he could hold onto the soft metal and pull her to his lap? He’d feast on her breasts until she came undone on his lap. Then he’d drive up in her tender flesh while she dug her nails in his shoulders and cried his name.

She shot him a frown, snapping him out of his fantasy. Shifting her backpack straps on her slender shoulders, she huffed a breath.

Holy Hades. What he would do to see her dance the traditional dance of love for him. He’d reward her with hot, wet kisses along every inch of her alabaster skin, tracing his mouth over every lush curve of her fiery body.

He stepped closer. She stepped back, her eyebrows snapping downward in alarm. His hands clenched until his knuckles cracked.

“Hey, are you all right?”

There wasn’t a chance he could speak. He’d sound like an animal. He nodded curtly and watched her concerned expression shift to disbelief.

“Okay, then, we should hit it soon, right? Before you, like, I don’t know, hit the poor jet again?”

He wanted to offer to carry the pack, but he knew, without even opening his mouth, she’d not only not let him, she’d give him one of those looks again like he was dense. He spied another of her knife hilts hidden in the seam of one strap. So far, he’d counted six. He was betting on more. Today, she even had something that looked a hell of a lot like a short sword strapped to her back, the hilt wrapped in black leather and visible behind her shoulder, nestled between her and her pack.

Hell if she needed a sword. She was a witch. Didn’t she think he could protect her from attack?

“Are you wearing a sword?”

“Yep, and you all should gear up as well. Silent, too. No guns. No noise. Noise triggers traps.”

Noise triggers traps
. Damn it to hell, a little more information from her before this trip would have been nice. Too late to tell her, if she’d only returned one of his calls, he’d have met with her to discuss these details.

“No guns.”Areos clarified.

She tossed her head. “Nope.”

Trying not to say a word that might sound like an order, he followed her to where his men had gathered a few hundred yards from the jet. He shifted his stance to stand near her and glanced at his men. They fell into a protective web around her within seconds Swallowing his irritation, he took a deep breath. The Bard would check in as soon as he reached the peak of the mountain rising above the clearing.

At this rate, his teeth might break from grinding them. He considered his options. He needed her safe. She needed to be point. He’d just have to be by her side.

“You will be point. I will be next to you—”

Once again, she interrupted him. “Nope, behind. Look, I need space to breathe, right? And to sense the traps. Sometimes they aren’t so clear, get it? And I have a sneaky feeling we’re going to have to go below ground on this one, so I hope you brought your flashlight. Let’s hit it. Where’s the Bard?”

He wanted to grumble because he wanted to be the only one she spoke of. Stupid, but there it was. Jealousy sucked. He really wanted to hear his name off her lips. But that wasn’t going to happen.

“Scouting.”

“Look, you hired a trap seer, why not use her? Why send him out into the jungle where he could right now be triggering a trap? This thing creates layer upon layer of traps. What the hell it is, I have no clue. It’s almost as if the godhead has a life of its own,” she mused. She tossed her bangs off her face angrily and continued, “But we won’t go there, either. For now, stay close and follow my lead. If I stop, you stop. If I don’t speak, don’t speak, got it?”

Clearly, she didn’t think he did. Hand on hip, she raised both eyebrows until he unfastened the sat phone and called the Bard back down. The man grumbled something about the damn jungle halting his movements anyway, but agreed to meet them back down at the jet.

“Great.” She scanned the area once more, walking off a few paces towards the jungle line. Did she know how stunning she looked dressed in black? Was that why she wore the colour? Her hair glowed, shimmering in shades of light red to dark auburn to curl around the midnight black of her shirt. The contrast was stunning.

She seemed caught up in examining their surroundings. They stood in a clearing in the midst of the world’s largest wilderness, a jungle so green it bombarded the mind. The jungle practically breathed exotic colour and wild sounds. Screams from monkeys, chattering from smaller animals, and several different birdcalls filled the air. Bugs made a haze and the heat beat down on them in moist layers of humidity. The hint of decay and the power of nature filled the air, almost demanding they leave this place. Here they were the intruders, and, instead of being on guard, he stood spellbound by a miniature witch.

A witch, who, even dressed in black, looked as if she belonged to this wild, foreign jungle. He didn’t doubt for a moment she could stride off and never be in any danger. As if she and this place spoke the same language.