Authors: Billi Jean
Gods, she was magnificent.
Just as suddenly as the flood had begun, it slowed to a trickle around them. Silence filled the damp air. After the attack, the now quiet jungle almost hurt the senses.
Checking in on his men, he saw amazement on their strong faces. They’d faced many battles, some with magic spewing the land from under their feet, or attempting to slice them to pieces, but never once had they seen the kind of power this tiny witch called forth. And, even more incredible, she appeared as steady as usual. As if she’d not just held back a storm, parted a flood, and single-handedly saved their asses.
The beasts were gone. The jungle lay in wet, muddy destruction as far as he could see. Water flowed around their trail, in front and behind them, too, no doubt, but on the patch they stood it was dry, free of the wreckage littering the surrounding area. Dropping a bomb wouldn’t have caused as much damage.
A shriek cut through the air, ending the silence.
Tabithia crouched lower and nodded. “Aye, I agree, sister. But not a chance of it. Bring it on again, and I retaliate in kind. Let us come. We will anyway.”
Nothing met her soft-spoken words but silence.
In front of him, Tabithia lowered her arms. The brilliant green blaze flowing from her simply disappeared. Slowly she glanced up and nearly had him stepping back. Pain, rage, and something else, something dark swirled in the depths of her eyes.
“This is going to cost you more than I think you realise, Spartan.”
The fury in her tone gave him pause. The lack of nickname hit him harder. Something had changed. Correction, something had changed her. In place of the mischief, the prankster, was a cold, hard anger, and if he had to guess? Something close to disgust. Or disappointment. Or perhaps all three. Her gaze flashed up at him, then swept to his men. He shouldn’t have felt better that his men were earning her wrath as well.
She turned without another word and headed off with a muttered, “Don’t fall behind.”
He watched her step over a dead but still wild and dangerous-looking boar with enormous yellowed tusks. She didn’t even glance down at the creature. Somehow, he doubted she’d missed the beast.
‘This is going to cost you more than I think you realise, Spartan.’
What he had to pay for, he had no idea, but he was beginning to realise Ares had led him into a trap. A trap impossible to get out of without alienating the one woman Aeros wanted more than his next breath.
Chapter Eight
Ares regarded his sister, Artemis, with something akin to disbelief. How his sister knew what he was up to always amazed him. She was goddess of nature, for crying out loud, not goddess of secrets.
“You’ve not hidden your actions well, brother.”
“Half-brother, isn’t it, Art?”
Her full brother, Leto, was absent, making him wonder what the little scrooge was up to. His sister, the pure virgin, hardly ever ventured into his realm. And alone? Not a chance. Not that he could harm her. She came fully armed with her poison-dipped arrows and pale yellow anaconda wrapped around her shoulders like some feather boa.
“Yes, Ares, half-brother. I did not give your men permission to venture into my lands.”
“That would be because”—he tapped his goatee, then snapped his fingers—“I didn’t ask! Really, Art, I don’t have to ask to send my men into the jungle. You might rule the place, but you have to allow them entrance and free exit. They are mine, after all.”
She smiled, not a good look for her. “True, I must allow them in and out.” She paused, watching him with an intent stare he knew was supposed to make him squirm.
He never squirmed. Instead, he yawned. Loudly.
“Eventually.”
True. She could keep them stumbling around in the dark for years, if he hadn’t thought of that already. But she couldn’t interfere with the little witch. That one was protected by a Celtic trio of goddesses who wouldn’t take Artemis interfering with or harming their own very well at all. Scratching his side, he remembered very well how pissed off those three could get over one of their own. But in the end? He’d won. He always did. It was almost boring how often he won.
“Now, now, Artie. No need to get upset.”
She raised a perfect eyebrow.
“If you harm the little witch, I am certain you won’t regret it for eternity, darling. How is that manhunt going? Still holding out ‘cause Papa wants you to? You know, I can help with that. Not me personally, I don’t do virgins any longer, but I know a few good men.”
She didn’t rise to his bait. He doubted she ever would. The ice queen didn’t understand the things she missed.
“The witch is safe. There’s no harm to her.”
“Quick to say that, aren’t you? These Celtic goddesses have a temper, don’t they?”
Crossing her arms under her full breasts, she nodded. “You are avoiding the real problem, Ares. You want your—”
“Yes, I want what is mine. And my men? They will bring it back, or you and yours will suffer. No one takes what is mine. The witches were tricky, but I am a god, and they will not be forgiven!”
His voice rose to fill the room, but Artemis simply smiled her simple smile.
“Of course you want your toy back. But at what cost? You wish to harm the witch? You had best listen to your own advice. The Celtic goddesses are not something to mess with, brother, and, if I’m not mistaken, this will be the second time you have done so…or mayhap the third? No matter.” Flicking her fingers, she strode to his altar and ran a hand along the empty marble. “You may get your toy back, but you will not come away unscathed. This is my jungle you trespass on, and I rule it completely.” She turned and the blue of her eyes glowed as she let her god-like strength flow outward. “I will not abide your trespass, or your men. Mark me well, brother, end this hunt, or you will feel my wrath in ways you will not enjoy.”
With that little threat, not a bad one by many standards, she disappeared.
He hadn’t remembered Artemis having such backbone. There must be more in that jungle of hers than he knew. She would thwart his hunt for the most precious of his belongings? Not a chance. He was the god of war. She might rule the jungle, and the hunt, but he ruled the battle, and the war had just begun, sister.
Time to contact his troops, and Aeros, his loyal Spartan, would obey like he always had—little witch or not. The man was better off never having met his woman, in Ares’ opinion. He’d find another to be his mate—or not. As long as he obeyed, Aeros would survive. And that was the most important thing. True bondings were not what they were cracked up to be, after all.
Running a hand over the altar once to feel the emptiness of the space, he stopped and clenched his fist.
No, true bonds were not what they were rumoured to be.
The jungle heat beat down on Tabithia, making it difficult to keep up the pace, but she’d be damned if she’d slow down for the ignoramuses behind her.
She’d thought they were good men, honest and brave fighters, not blockheads. Hell, they’d fought forever. They were legends for their bravery. Their honour.
Well, yeah, they might have their honour, but they also had their sleazy boss. Ares.
She needed a fried Twinkie. She needed a phone that worked. She needed a nap and, damn it, she needed a bathroom. And more than that? She needed to be alone.
None of which was forthcoming.
What was forthcoming? This could take a hell of a lot longer than three days, and she needed it to be over now.
Aeros. Just the way he looked at her drove her slightly batty. How could he be so clueless? He had to know more about this ‘godhead’ than he let on. He had to know the godhead was merely a vessel built to trap some poor female who’d probably spurned his greedy, womanising god and had been punished for not giving the guy the goods.
That killed. That Aeros, an honourable man, couldn’t see Ares for the twisted, selfish prick he was. What killed more? She’d saved the woman once already. She’d held the damn beat-up cup in her hands and hadn’t sensed enough to be certain what she held. Yeah, she’d been in a hurry, but there was no excuse for her not having sensed the trap the cup really was.
Was this punishment? The Three worked in mysterious ways. She’d avoided her duties, true, but not any more than anyone else. She participated in her coven’s ceremonies when Sorcha nagged her enough. She defended them when her coven called. She raised money for the coven, contributing to the protections only wealth could provide.
Ah, but her goddesses loved harmony.
She’d avoided balance. Or, more precisely, she found her own way to even out her life. Some might call it a balancing act, but hell, it worked for her—usually. This was so far from usual it was like being plonked down on the moon. No one could blame her for being a bit shaken. Hell? Shaken? She was so far off kilter she might as well be in a boat, topside down with the merfolk.
“Tabithia? We should break for water and discuss our plans for the night.”
So reasonable-sounding. Break and talk. Talk about the fact she wanted to scream because she hunted something held prisoner by a god. Something she’d have to free once she found it. And when she freed the witch? All hell would break loose. Worse, or possibly better, the hottie Spartan who’d been in more battles than she could count, and couldn’t seem to stop staring at her, who worried over her safety, would hate her for tricking him.
He’d have to. Spartans were loyal to one thing—their god.
She knew a witch who’d once hooked up with a Spartan, maybe even one of the men with her now. Daisy had been so happy. The girl hadn’t stopped talking about how wonderful he was, how hot but sweet he’d been. He’d even written her letters. Then that had all changed. He’d been called by Ares for duty and had shown back up—fifty years later.
Ares was a tool.
But he was the boss. And these boys all served him.
When she crossed them? They were going to come after her and her coven—if they could find it. Their home was in the hills of New England, hidden by spells and guarded with enough juice to power up NYC for a few years.
She’d never see the big Spartan again.
Somehow, even though he was big, muscular, and strong, a warrior through and through, and usually that was so not her MO, she still felt something for him. Hell, she’d been daydreaming about him before they’d been attacked by the witch. Her feelings for Aeros were a…distraction. A distraction that had her wanting to rant at him for following orders and not thinking for himself. She wanted to shake him. Daisy, her witch friend with the Spartan missing-in-action man, had said the Spartan’s only excuse had been some silly thing about how Ares created him and could destroy him if he chose. Who wanted to play second fiddle to some god with narcissistic tendencies?
Sweat beaded on her neck, forehead and down her back, and dripped down past her Victoria’s Secret Angel bra. She’d have to throw her favourite leopard print out after this gruesome little adventure. Thank all three goddesses her black cotton T-shirt absorbed most of the sweat and didn’t leave marks like the boys in back of her. They were all dripping, their shirts dark with sweat stains.
That was the only thing she could be thankful for on this stupid easy-peasy mission—her shirt.
She shouldn’t even be thinking of the Spartan not wanting her. She should be thinking, goodie, the Spartan wouldn’t want her. It wasn’t like a big, strong, virile man like Aeros would understand her fear of being intimate. No doubt he’d not want to hold hands for ages. Maybe let her kiss him in a few hundred years. Maybe tie him down and lick every inch of him after a few hundred more.
“Tabithia, did you hear me?”
Yeah, she would dream of his voice, no doubt. So strong and firm. Too firm.
Right. You hate bossy men and this one? He might very well be the one you’ve been trying to avoid for like ever. Or at least since you’ve been told of the power he’d hold over you.
She could hear Sorcha now. ‘You can’t run from your destiny, Tabithia. If a man is meant to change your life, perhaps it is for your well-being and not for your destruction.’
Yeah, well, the last time a man had ruled her it hadn’t ended so well. Even thinking of that dark time created a mass of sickness in her stomach and goose bumps on her flesh. She took a moment to shut the lid on those memories before glancing back at Aeros, then quickly back at the trail ahead of her.
“Tabithia?”
“I heard you. We can stop just ahead. I sense the caverns are not much farther.”
“Caverns? You spoke of these before.”
She had. And yeah, that did not make her happy either. Did she really want to be underground with this pissed-off female trying to stop them?
Searching the next break in the jungle she found nothing lurking to jump out at them, which made her nervous. The attack last time had come with little warning. There had been no trigger. Yet at the same time, she could feel the traps building up around them. The little girl was busy, very busy.
“Here is good. I need to scry. Don’t bother me.” Sitting on a log, she glared at all of the men. They simply stood, most of them a bit shocked, almost leery of her. Good. They should be. Maybe when the shit hit the fan and she broke off with their prize, they’d give up and not come after her.
And pigs would fly alongside them.
Still, she had spooked them with her power. She’d spooked herself. This place held power like a bottomless pit. But these were immortals, so they should be used to displays of magic. Remembering them wandering off before, she paused, sighing. This reminded her of babysitting.
“No straying from this spot. I’m setting up wards, but don’t go wandering off.”
“God forbid,” Narc muttered.
The redhead really wasn’t earning points.
She sniffed. Aeros stepped closer and sat next to her. He smelt like warm sunshine. His heat blasted her side. Was he always so warm?
Concentrate,
she reminded herself. Now, wards. What would stop almost anything, but cost the least in power use?
The jungle. She pulled the energy from the humid, rich air and easily wove it to her bidding, creating a space around them nothing could pass through without her permission. The touch of her magic soothed her like nothing else could. It warmed her inside and out with its lush caress, creating a sense of peace within her turmoil. Breathing deeply, she settled herself then cast her vision outward to locate her aunts.