A Spartan's Kiss (28 page)

Silence filled the street. Even the distant cars were too soft to register as more than a buzz in his ears. The greyness he’d grown to hate threatened to drown him. He knew, absolutely knew, this woman could end his time with Tabithia.

“No. He is the one,” Galen said. “Aeros is a good man. He is her mate. We didn’t even know we were given such gifts, but now that he knows? He will do everything in his power to make her happy. To see to her. We were once as you say, but not any longer. If the gods have given us this gift, a mate, we will honour them above all others. Aeros made her happy. I saw it, saw her with him, saw her happy.”

Aeros met Galen’s eyes and frowned. Everything he said was true. He would honour Tabithia even before his god. Ares had given him this world to live in, but Tabithia? She made it a life. The possibilities burst around him. Life. To actually love and live. To share this existence with her? Could he be so blessed? Had he made her happy? She had seemed happy in the jungle.

“Pretty words, pretty man, but sorry, I just can’t see this big guy giving as much as my niece needs.”

“I will. I will do anything.” He sliced his hand flat though the air between them. “I will endure anything for her. Anything she needs, I will give her. I will give her my life if you demand it. Patience? Understanding? I can give these for as long as I live.”

Trouble’s eyebrows rose in disbelief as he spoke, but when he stopped she began pacing again, nibbling on her thumb in agitation, almost as if she warred with herself over his words. The slap of her flip-flops would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so damn tense. He felt that he’d stepped out on a razor-thin wire, and that one wrong step with this miniature witch would destroy his only chance at a life. Love. At Tabithia in his life, by his side sharing a future together.

Galen motioned for him to say something, but he had no idea what to say. How to convince this woman that he…loved Tabithia. He did. He recognised that now, could say it, think it, feel it. He loved her.

“I love her. I love her and will always love her. No matter what. You can’t keep me from her.”

Freezing in place, the witch slowly turned her head and gave him a sideways glare. “Love? You think I’m soft? Do you think love is enough? Come here to me, Aeros, let me show you what you think you love. Come, and if you can endure the reality of my niece’s pain, then perhaps, perhaps I will give you a chance to prove those pretty words.”

Without waiting on him to come to her, she strode over and gripped his forearm.

“Hold on.”

A shiver raced over his skin. The world receded much as it did when he used a portal, except he wasn’t in control. An angry witch held the reins, and he had no idea if he wanted to follow. With a rush, the world resurfaced, or part of it did. Around him, mist still clung to his vision, almost as if he were still in the shift. Looking down, he frowned to see his body still had not reformed completely.

“Stay cool, you’re not here, but in a vision of what is happening at this moment. Stay silent.”

He nodded once he understood. The mist parted, and a doorway appeared in front of them. Out of place, the wooden frame seemed to hang from the clouds. Solid and firm, the door swung open. Ice lodged in his throat and spread to capture his chest.

Tabithia was inside what looked like a dim closet, clothes hung around her on both sides, mostly all dark, black and long. But he barely noticed them—it was Tabithia who held his gaze and caused the ice to grow. She huddled before him, knees drawn up, red hair hanging down over her pale face, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her delicate body shook as if in a gale, and he feared she’d harm herself with such tremors.

Then he saw the knife. Dripping crimson, the silver cut a long, deep path down the black sleeve of her shirt. Her forearm glistened with blood.

She harmed herself? Shock floored him, startling him so badly he couldn’t breathe. All his life he’d protected, fought to aid those less fortunate than himself, to create a safe world, even for those who had no idea he protected them.

Tabithia’s trembling increased, and the knife slipped along her pale flesh. She lifted the knife, and, with eyes open, she drew it over her arm again. Her face broke his heart. All the colour leached from her rosy cheeks. She huddled, pale and tear-streaked, so distressed it hurt him to see her this way, let alone to witness her harming herself. Green eyes glowed brilliant, and another tear fell as the blade split her flesh.

He had to stop her. He jerked to action only to find he couldn’t move. Something tight and firm held him in place, like a rope or chain binding his body back.

“No. You may not let her know you are here. This is Tabithia’s way. When the pain is too great, the emotions too high, she must do this, or the pain inside her grows intolerable. Three days she stayed with you in that jungle. Two weeks she’s hidden Dare from you. I’m surprised she’s held off this long.”

Rage roared through him. They let her do this. They allowed her to harm herself. They knew. And they let her.

“Can you accept this, Spartan? Can you see beyond the pain to the reason why?”

The reason? There was no reason. How could there ever be a reason to harm an inch of her?

A blow to his stomach had him bowing over, gasping and clutching his middle. Before he could draw breath to yell, he was back in the street, outside the club.

“See? You can never be her mate. Never. Best leave my niece be, fool.” With a snap of her fingers under his nose, he took what felt like a full hit to the face. Blood oozed down his forehead when he stood again. “Do you think to force her to stop? Do you think we haven’t tried? Do you? Silly man. See if you can listen for once. She is harmed. She is nearly broken. One blow by you and she will shatter. Tell me. Tell me why I should allow this chance?”

“Because I love her!”

He did. It was right. He felt it to the soles of his feet. He loved her. Even this. He would deal with this. He would…do something to comfort her. The memory of her face, upturned and full of fear after they’d reached climax in the club, filtered through his mind. Could he fix her? Could he love her enough for her to heal?

Determination filled him. He would. He would use every trick he had, everything he had learned about her to make her see she was his, and he… He was hers—from the first day, that first glimpse of her glorious hair and crystal-clear eyes, he’d been hers. Her sweet scent calmed him. Her voice eased him. Her body excited and completed his. They would be happy. He could do this. He’d won every battle, save one. He’d die before he lost this one.

“I see. So, you will love her.” Sounding as if she were musing over this, the witch twirled a lock of bright hair around her finger. A moment later, she seemed to have come to some sort of decision. His gut clenched.

“Well, I suppose I have to give you the chance.” Frowning, she muttered something he didn’t catch. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I got things to do. I’ll be watching, though, so if you fuck up? I’ll kill you.”

With that, Trouble gave them a finger wave and walked off.

“Damn, that woman is some handful.”

Incredibly, Galen sounded impressed. Gods save them.

“Don’t even think about it,” Aeros said.

Galen gave him a ‘what the hell’ grin. “Where did she take you?”

Where had she taken him? Shit. He’d forgotten to ask. Damn it. Taking off after her, he spotted something on the ground ahead of him. Stopping, he bent down and found a business card.

On it someone, Trouble, no doubt, had scrawled an address. Massachusetts? Tabithia lived in Massachusetts.

Chapter Nineteen

“So, you’re the one.”

Turning from her appraisal of a black biker jacket, Tabithia took a step back before she could stop herself. Gone was the wicked, cool tattoo-parlour-slash-biker-hangout, in its place was Ares in all his glory. At least she assumed Ares sat on the throne, taking centre stage in a magnificent, if not overdone, hall in gold and gold-toned marble. Dressed in battle gear Russell Crowe would have died for in
Gladiator
, he tilted his dark head to the left. She could see why Dare had the hots for him. The goatee was hot, but the guy really wasn’t her type.

“Please, sit. Drink. Be comfortable.”

She shot a brief glance away from him towards a small chair and table with a golden pitcher and golden goblet next to her.

Yeah, like she was sitting. She needed every advantage against a guy like this. God, she reminded herself, god like this.

“Thanks, but I just imbibed. So, ‘the one’?”

Stomach in knots, she resisted tinkering with her pendant, instead settling for its reassuring weight against her skin. Had he nullified her powers? Was she in some deep shit or what?

Laughing—without much humour in her opinion—he gripped his throne, arms tight enough to make the damn metal bend. Ah, so, she was in deep shit. Where the heck was Hecate? What the hell good were goddesses for if they let other gods poach her? And Dare, what the hell had the little witch got her into?

“Where should I start? With the fact you broke into my temple, stole something that belonged to me, and are now hiding my woman from me? Should we start there, Ravensong?”

A chill raced under her skin, heating instead of cooling her. Ares had used her true name. True names had power. Hers was no different. She’d never shared her name with another. Sharing a name allowed the other to have power over a person. She would never give such power to any other. Never. Her goddesses knew her name, but no other. Ares using it did not bode well.

“It’s Tabithia.”

“Is it?”

She almost took a step back when he stood abruptly, fire in his eyes. He stomped down the dais, looking angrier by the minute—if that was possible.

“You stole what was mine. You then released it. You are my captain’s mate. If I kill you, I lose him. But is he a pawn, or a more vital piece on my board? That is how your life is balanced. His worth to me.”

Oh, man. She was not liking those odds. When he reached her, he stopped. He towered more than a foot over her. This was no god to play with, no god to ask favours of, nor to make promises to she couldn’t keep.

The plan. What was the plan? Heck, the plan had been Aeros demanding she show him where Dare was, not Ares standing in front of her.

Dark eyes narrowing, he said, “It might not matter, though, either way. You may never be able to complete the bonding ritual.”

Lead hit her stomach, weighing her down with a certainty that this god knew every horrible detail of her life.

“Ah, yes, I know of your past.” Flipping his hand as if dismissing her past as easily as a pesky fly, he circled her. Metal studs sounded on marble—his boots, she realised. He was dressed for battle—against her? Why? There was more going on here than she was getting.
Think, Tab, think.
Why would he be ready for battle? Did he think Dare would come to her rescue? The girl was off learning all about this century—shopping, eating out, and having a great time with her new singer friends. Even Reesie liked her. No way was she in on this. She’d told her Aeros would come to her, find her, and demand Dare. When he did, she was supposed to make Dare’s demands. Shit. But to Ares? She so didn’t want to spill the list of humiliation to him. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who took what Dare had to say with anything short of a temper tantrum.

She swallowed her fear and pushed on her bravado. Best never to show any weakness to your enemy—and Ares was her enemy, there was no doubt of that. The man practically simmered with rage—at her.

“What do you want from me, Ares? The cat’s out of the bag. You had one of my coven trapped—in this room. And now, you want Dare back?”

Stopping in front of her, he breathed out of his perfect nose and glared. Such power radiated from him it was like standing next to a solar flare. The hall was warm, but he made her sweat. She supposed he was handsome in that ‘I’m so hot’ way, but his looks did nothing to her except make her want to step back even farther from him.

Trying to appear unaffected was impossible. His powerful gaze locked onto hers, and she swallowed at the darkness of his eyes. She’d seen rich coffee-coloured eyes before—on Aeros. But not like these. They were bottomless, so dark they would have been utterly black if not for the striations of mahogany slashing and swirling in his irises.

“Dare?”

She grimaced and almost took a step back at the sharp strike of his tone. “Your little woman. I call her Dare. She’s got some demands.”

Why was it so damn hard to speak? Her voice came out, but hell, not much more than a whisper. And that had to be messing with her indifferent, I-don’t-have-a-problem-with-a-god-angry-with-me look.

“Demands.”

She nodded and wished he’d step back. The man—god—was in her bubble. He burst it completely and stood so close she had to tip her head to look him in the eye.

“Hmm? I see. So, she has
demands.
Tell me where she is, and I will have my men fetch her. She can tell me.”

“Uh…no.”

He blinked. He tilted his head again and something like humour flickered over his expression before he turned harder than before. “No? I’m not sure I like that word, Tabithia.”

Oh, she was certain he’d like Dare’s conditions even less.

“Tell me then.”

Ah, gods
, Dare owed her. Like forever.

“Step back, would you? I can’t think with you all in my space.”

He blinked again, immediately stepping back and frowning.

“Better. Okay, so you know you can’t be on her happy list, right? First, she wants you to send flowers. She has several addresses she wants them delivered to. Then she wants an apology. In writing. Then she’d like you to…” She paused because, even though he was smiling, his eyes were promising something she just knew Dare might not like. She certainly didn’t.

“Continue.”

“To go down on your knees and say how sorry you are for doubting her love, and for making her watch you touch other women. She won’t give you sex for ten years, and if you hurt me she won’t give out for ten times that much longer.” She added the last bit because, well, heck, she was the one giving out the stupid demands. She’d put him on the couch for longer than ten years for what he’d done.