A Spartan's Kiss (5 page)

She shrugged. “So, that’s it, then.”

“Wait, we need to go tonight. Now. I already have the supplies. I’ll deal with everything else. We head down to the Amazon on a flight tonight. I’ve got it all taken care of.” Especially his hard-on.
Damn it. Down boy.

By the way she blinked rapidly he suspected he should have saved those details for later. There was no way—short of making her think he was some kind of sicko—that he could get out of his vehicle in the condition he was in. He wasn’t a small guy.

He watched her eyebrows draw down and tried like hell to think of something gloomy and depressing while his heart beat fast enough to make sure he had wood to last through the next damn century.

“Uh, look, that’s just not the way we do things—”

“Sorry, really, I am. But we need to move fast. Now, we have to leave tonight—”

“No way,” she said with a strange hitch to her voice. She stepped backward, giving him a stubborn look he would have loved to kiss off her beautiful face—if she didn’t look like she was building up to blow. Her face flushed a pretty pink, and, as he watched, her eyes narrowed to glittering jade slits.

With a great deal of concentration, he managed to get his body under some control. Not down, but a damn sight better than it had been. Sweat trickled down his brow, and he had to stop and brush the perspiration off his lip before opening the door and stepping down

“We have limited time. The godhead can’t just wander around. We need to find it fast. Your partner said you were capable of guiding us through any traps.”

Still looking concerned, she unzipped her jacket, anchored her small fists on her hips, and huffed out a breath.

Big mistake. Big, big mistake. He clamped his fists together in front of his groin. Damn it. She had more than a handful. Much more. The tight black tee clung to her lush curves, outlining them beautifully for his hungry gaze. He just knew those melons would spill over his hands when he finally touched them. If he got his hands on them, he’d kiss the spot on her chest between them. He loved that tender spot on a woman. Or under the breasts. The flesh there always felt so smooth and warm. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look as if his temperature wasn’t nearing the hundreds.

“Uh, well, you were mistaken. My partner said no such thing. We go, we get and we deliver. We don’t take, lead and hand over out in the field.”

He might be fighting his distraction because of the killer view, but her logic was damn hard to follow. His confusion must have shown because she sighed and shook her head, as if he were dim-witted. A grin threatened. No one ever showed such impatience with him, but then again, he never gave anyone a reason to. Obviously, this beautiful little witch felt he wasn’t quick enough for her brand of logic.

“We don’t guide. We go and find what you want, then hand over the goodies.”

The goodies. Ares help him, he glanced at her breasts. Shocked at himself, he shoved his eyes up to her face and kept them there. She didn’t appear to have noticed his ogling.

“Not this time.” This time, he would make her do the guiding. She shocked his system with colour and feelings. There had to be a reason for that. Had to be. Until he knew more, he was keeping her and her goodies close by.

He stepped closer to her. Immediately she moved away, eyes going a bit round when he moved closer. Did he alarm her? Maybe he was grimacing. His men always said he looked ready for battle.

“Uh, yeah, well—hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there.”

He paused, only then realising he’d been steering her backward by walking towards her. She was keeping a consistent distance between them. For some reason, that concerned him more than her refusing to take them to the godhead.

“We can discuss this.” Inside. He took a step towards her. He wanted to chat over drinks. Possibly get her more than a few and see if she felt anything close to what raged through him.

She took a step back and appeared to be assessing him from head to toe in concern. He doubted this small woman ever showed her fear often. He didn’t want her fearing him. He stood still and tried to appear non-threatening.

“Let’s go inside this place and talk.” Chat over drinks. He could barely smell her minty jasmine scent. He wanted to be closer, lean in, and perhaps feel her body under his hand as he guided her—

“Uh, no?”

Was that a question? He jerked his eyes up to her face and refused to let the heat rise above his collar. What in the name of Hades would she think of him if he blushed like some teenager? Or caught him eyeing her breasts like a hungry shark?

“I think it would be best to chat over this. We can go inside.”

“Not a chance.” She stood straight and tall, all five feet and a few inches of her, and faced off with him. “Sorry, don’t think so. There’s not much to discuss. We fetch, we carry. To you. End of story.”

End of story? He shook his head. “Not this time. No one can touch the godhead—”

She wiggled her slender fingers, catching him off guard with the endearing little movement. That little bit of mischief in her eyes sparkled brighter than any star.

“Guess what, Sparkie? I did once before. I can again.”

Sparkie? Hell, he liked that, but still. “Aeros, my name is Aeros. I am the captain of the Spartans—”

She rolled her brilliant eyes, obviously not impressed, and cut him off. Again. This might be the first time in his life someone had ever cut him off, and she did it more often than she listened—if she listened to him. And why the fuck did that amuse him and not frustrate him?

“Look, that’s cool and all, but guess what? It’s TMI. We’ll call you when we’ve got what you need.”

He hated to do it, really, he did, but there was no way she was going to walk off and leave him here. Not now. He had to figure out why, out of all the women he’d encountered over the centuries, he saw her not only in vibrant colour, but she made him harder than the damn concrete under his boots.

“Stop.”

She’d been in the process of turning but stopped so abruptly that her heavy curls bounced against her back.

Had he sounded harsh? He swallowed past a dry throat and watched as she slowly turned to face him. Her eyebrows slowly rose to her cinnamon bangs. He merely stood there. What to say? He held up his hands and tried to appear reasonable.

“We can’t let you do that. We need a guide to the godhead. Once there we can take over, but we need assistance to reach our goal. That’s the way it has to be. If I need to, I will double our offer.”

She listened quietly for once, a thoughtful expression on her small face. As soon as he had finished she blinked, and before he knew what she was up to, she walked over with a grin and snapped her fingers right under his nose. Like a trained dog, his dick jumped. He held in a groan with more strength than he’d used against any battle with the Persians.

“That’s one hell of a deal, Sparkie. We accept. Doubled.” She stepped back, still grinning, and held her hand out.

Holding his breath, he took her smaller hand in his. What felt like an electric shock tunnelled through his body. He had to lock his knees to keep from closing the distance between them so he could haul her into his arms. What would she feel like? All that soft, female flesh pressed tight to his tortured muscles? A flash in her eyes indicated she felt something as well. Her face turned a rosy pink the longer they stood there, her small, delicate hand in his larger one.

Aeros tried to say something, but before he could, she tugged her hand free and stepped back, gazing uncertainly up at him, as if seeing him for the first time. After eyeing him up and down—lingering a bit longer than he liked on his groin—she slowly looked him in the eye. Her expression appeared confused as if she saw something about him she couldn’t understand. The blush was doing amazing things to her eyes and hair. Would she look so heated after sex, he wondered. Immediately he wanted to hit himself on the back of the head. She was much more than a quick fuck to him. Much more. He just had to figure out what the more was.

As if coming to some decision, she shook her head and took several graceful steps backwards.

“We have an agreement then?” He nodded, wanting to reassure her.

“Right. Right. An agreement, right.” Her voice came out breathless, almost hesitant for the first time. She looked him up and down again then backed up, keeping an eye on him until she reached her bike. “Right.”

He didn’t like the look of the bike, or her on it. She could be hurt, harmed on a bike like that.

She glanced up once more. “We have a deal. I’ll make the arrangements and someone will lead your little expedition.”

Before he could stop her, she roared the engine and sped off, leaving him with his mouth open and his dick throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat. Someone? Like not her? Fuck that. He’d triple the amount.

Determined, he pulled his cellphone out of his jeans pocket and started texting her partner in crime.

Triple? He could do a hundred times that and still not hit bottom. For a chance at figuring out whatever the fuck that little witch meant to him, he’d offer a great deal more.

Chapter Five

Tabithia stared around her empty home and wondered why it felt like her house was closing in on her. Smothering her. The blank walls, void of colour other than the eggshell white they’d been when she’d moved here years before, seemed too white. Maybe they were simply too bright because nothing provided relief from the boatload of emptiness staring back at her.

She’d never bought furniture. There were no pictures, no cutesy items cluttering up shelves. Frowning, Tabithia fingered her knife. She didn’t own shelves, ergo no cluttered ones. Well, she didn’t really have furnishings, but hey, she didn’t spend any real time here, so why beat herself up over it?

Yeah, why?

Because for once in her freakin’ pathetic existence, she might have kinda, sorta thought of what it would be like to bring someone here. Only how could she do that? They’d take one look at her house and—bingo—know exactly how screwed up she was. It’d be like a magician sweeping a silk scarf off a bunny.

She slept here, sometimes hung out in the backyard, but never really lived here. As in ‘set up house’ lived here. The place was blank, yet when stress threatened to drag her under? She always came here. It usually provided some relief from the constant junk littering her brain.

Well, and her knife brought the relief she needed to find her balance.

Shifting her thoughts back to her aunt, she tightened her grip on her cellphone the way she wanted to grip her aunt’s neck. She swept the hair from her face and glared out of the window. There really were no options, were there?

“So tell me that again? I have to go with the big bad boy and you can’t?”

The mere thought of being alone with the handsome Spartan had her hand edging down to the knife hilt strapped to her thigh. No one had ever affected her as surely as Aeros had with his dark, brooding eyes and big, warrior body. He had focused on her with an intensity that had her itching to check if she’d not left crumbs from her Wendy’s Spicy Chicken Sandwich on her chin.

And Trouble thought she could spend hours, possibly days with him? The witch was nuts—absolutely certifiable.

“It’s only for a few days,” Trouble had said.

Why did Trouble make that sound so freakin’ reasonable?

There wasn’t a chance in hell of Tabithia kicking back for days with the big, sexy Aeros, captain of the Spartans. Just remembering his deep voice had her fidgeting with her knife hilt again. She closed her eyes, trying for some calm in the storm, but her traitorous mind flooded her with images of Aeros, naked, sweaty Aeros pressing down on her in a way she’d never thought she’d enjoy. Shivers rippled up her stomach almost as intensely as last night when she’d come home and pleasured herself twice. And yeah, that had helped so much! Heat blasted her cheeks as though she were standing next to a burning forest fire.

What was happening to her?

Trouble laughed quietly into the phone, knocking Tabithia out of her mini-meltdown.

“Come on, Tabbie-cat. A couple of days, that’s it. Piece of cake. You can do it.”

The little Rob Schneider accent was so not cool. Heck, Trouble simply shouldn’t mess with her rockin’ South African accent in Tabithia’s opinion. The Schneider thing just sounded wrong.

“Yeah, so not funny! You realise I don’t have good people skills, right? That I need my own…like, alone time.” For once, Tabithia’s thoughts weren’t on spending time alone to ease the darkness. Nope, she didn’t crave the cool kiss of steel. She wanted to imagine hot, scalding kisses from a tall, sexy Spartan.

And that would so not work. There would be no kissing. No touching. Yep, definitely, totally no touching.

Tabithia stared out of her kitchen window into the bare backyard, trying not to panic at the length of her no-no list. Frowning, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat outside and soaked up the cool darkness of the night. The peppermint had taken over the flowerbeds lining the brick path to her wrought-iron bench. The minty aroma always soothed her whenever she ventured out to the little bit of nature. The bench she’d found abandoned on a deserted country road. She’d sprayed the rusty scrollwork with some black Rust-Oleum, ripped the rotten wood off, and replaced it with new. She could remember the handful of times she had sat out there and let the quiet of the backyard surround her.

She tapped her knife and considered the little bench. Yeah, it looked sweet under the big oak tree shading her yard. Maybe she could buy some stuff, make this place look good. She’d done okay with the bench. Glancing around the kitchen, she considered her apartment. Maybe a few things would be nice.

“Tabithia?”

Focusing on her aunt, she turned away from the backyard. Maybe she could do this mission.

“Look, I can’t come with you. I have something here. I would if I could, but you can do this, Tabbie-cat. Just take them down, get the relic, and hit it. Right? Easy peasy.”

Anger burned her stomach. Easy peasy? Easy peasy for her to say. Trouble didn’t have Tabithia’s issues. She could just picture needing to cut herself with the gaggle of Spartans watching her every move. No way, José. Her aunt had to go with the Spartans.