Chapter Four

Aeros pulled into the small immortal pub, The Happy Cat, still worrying over the brightness of that damn rose. The Happy Cat looked a hopping place. Just far enough from LA so the city appeared like a dim blur of light in the distance, the place pulled in immortals living in or near the City of Angels, as well as any immortal with a travelling spell. Cars crammed the extensive parking lot, ranging from expensive to ridiculously expensive. None of them appeared to contain a woman waiting for him, though.

Arriving just shy of ten minutes until their rendezvous, Aeros had time to park and wait. The thieves would meet him in a few minutes if all went according to plan. Or one of them would, at least. He’d got a number for the little duo from a friend, along with the heads-up that the witches charged a fortune. The texts he’d exchanged with someone calling herself ‘Trouble’ had been brief and to the point. Someone would meet him here. If the gig met their standards, the liaison would then tell him the price.

He found a spot off to one side with a clear space around his gas-guzzling SUV to see anyone else who drove in. He didn’t want to chance missing his target, but he also wanted to see her coming. Whoever had left that flower had to mean something to Aeros. But what he couldn’t pinpoint.

The rose had been on his mind. When he’d discovered the thieves were women, well, his brain took off down paths he was certain Ares didn’t want him going. And if Ares didn’t want him wondering who the hell these women were, why did the ass have to offer such dire warnings? Fuck, the god might as well have waved a red flag. Aeros could think of nothing besides who the women were, what they meant to Ares, and why that fucking flower had been so bright.

Ares enjoyed playing with Aeros and his men. Was this just another game designed to give his spoilt god of war something to do?

The possibility had Aeros simmering.

The witches. They posed more questions. For instance, why would they meet him? They had to know who he was, and, more importantly, who he worked for. Why meet with the man who worked for the man you had just stolen an artefact from?

Maybe the women didn’t know who he was. But could they be that out of the loop? Most, if not all, immortals knew the Spartans and their history. Or thought they knew.

Not many understood the real deal. Once brought back from the afterlife, he and his men had sworn their alliance to the god of war. Ares ruled them loosely, requiring little more than their worship and, of course, their defence of his honour and their service on all immortal councils in his stead. In exchange, he’d given them immortality.

Aeros fought evil much as he had thousands of years before. Only now, instead of battling neighbouring Persia, he fought Death Stalkers or the other evil immortals. Such combats weren’t a hardship. Spartans survived on honour, and serving their god alongside other immortals bent on protecting the innocent, the weak, and the unsuspecting was a worthy duty. Aeros had simply exchanged his loyalty to his once-beloved Sparta for loyalty to a cause. If need be, he supposed he would serve for eternity.

Now if that wasn’t depressing, he didn’t know what was. Shifting the vehicle into park, he worried that cheery thought like a sore tooth.

Yeah, eternity was craved by many, but none understood the reality – until they were immortal. Hell, as it was, his life had taken on a dullness he couldn’t seem to shake. Battles didn’t break up the monotony. Battles were simply another facet of the never-ending struggle of each day, each week, each fucking decade.

Eternity spanned ahead like a dark road with no end, but Aeros had to believe whatever deal Ares had made to bring him and his men back from the dead, eternity was now theirs. The problem with eternity? It went on for fucking ever.

Aeros slumped back in the seat and examined the parking lot for the tenth time. No new cars, no sound of people, nothing. The club was subterranean. He wouldn’t hear the live band down there unless the band headed up the ten floors and hopped out into the parking lot with their equipment and started singing.

When was the last time he’d gone to a club? Drunk a beer? Hung out with the men?

Hell if he knew. The thought should worry him, but, like everything else in his life, worry didn’t occur much any longer. Worry was distant, like the sound of a storm a hundred miles away.

If he did have immortality, would this be the way of it?

A sports car pulled up next to him. Two passengers. They stumbled out of the open wing-back doors and loudly headed off.

There were benefits to the job. He’d not lost a single man under his command since their return to this world. Could he? Lose a man? Some of his men had suffered from deadly blows. Some had had the very flesh burned from their bones, while others had lost limbs only to regenerate and survive.

Aeros fiddled with his keys, disquieted over such thoughts. It was as if seeing that white rose had somehow ripped a grey mist from his vision he hadn’t realised had obscured his sight. His men meant a great deal to him. What if he’d neglected their well-being because of his own impenetrable ennui? There used to be laughter amongst his men. They used to joke at the smallest things. They used to…live. He’d not spoken of his own struggle. But he no longer sat on the beach of his homeland and watched the sun sink, a glowing orange ball, into his beloved, cerulean sea.

The sound of a motorcycle pulling up next to him drew him out of his thoughts. Hands still holding his keys in the ignition, he turned the idling engine off, glanced over, and froze.

His breath lodged in his throat, and he blinked over at the fantasy facing him. He wasn’t certain whether he should be happy—the woman knocked his breath away—or scared to death because she did.

Cutting the low purr of her bike, she was easily the most vibrant thing he’d ever seen. Red hair the colour of a burnt summer sun, gloriously kissed by the blondes and golds of a whimsical paintbrush, brushed along the top of her delicate shoulders and down her back in a mass of breathtaking silken strands against the black of her leather jacket. She lifted a trim leg and slid off her bike to stand sideways from him, presenting him with a view of the lushest, roundest backside he’d ever seen. He swallowed a groan when she bent to adjust something on the bike, displaying the curve of each cheek and the shadowed line between.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he had to reach up to brush it off before it his eyes. No way could he blink and miss even a second of her.

She glowed. Every inch of her glowed in colour so bright it hurt his eyes. She bent a little lower, and he discreetly shifted his hard-on so it wasn’t strangled by suddenly too-tight jeans.

She stood, reached up with both hands, and removed her helmet. His breath whooshed out as if someone had sucker-punched him in the gut. She had to be the most beautiful woman ever created. She shook her head slowly and brushed her hair back from her face with a slim hand before turning to look around the parking lot. She spotted his SUV and grinned.

Aeros forgot to breathe. He stared at her. The cream of her face contrasted perfectly with the pillow-soft pinkness of her full lips. Her eyes were a green that would make any emerald ever formed pale in comparison. Her hair was a combination of burnt cinnamon and golden meadows. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and then travel down the line of her body to dive between her slender thighs.

She was beauty.

His cock swelled to the point of pain. He took a breath and reminded himself to calm down. She was one of the two witches. She’d broken into a god’s palace and stolen an artefact that could get him killed. Her beauty might simply be a ruse to get him to do things he wouldn’t normally agree to.

Somehow, that logic simply didn’t affect him as it should. He’d lost more than the ability to see in colour over the years. He’d lost the urge to sink into a warm, willing woman. Those urges—fuck urges, demands—hit below the belt with a vengeance now, making him squirm in his seat like some teenager.

She quirked a finely shaped, arched brow and tilted her head slightly to the side to study him, a faint smile on her lovely face.

Gods help him if she knew he’d just adjusted his aching cock. His mouth went dry. She gestured with a rolling motion of her hand to put his window down.

After fumbling with the window lock twice, he managed to get the window down while he attempted to clear his throat and think of something reasonably intelligent to say to her that wouldn’t squeak out of his damn mouth.

She didn’t wait. Instead she said, “Uh, okay. So this is the pow-wow, huh?” She gave the dark parking lot a glance, before tossing her hair back and facing him with a curl of her pink lips. “No biggie, we don’t need to chat over drinks, we can cut the deal in the parking lot just fine. So, what’s the scoop? Whatcha want fetched and carried, big guy?”

Chat over drinks. Fuck. He wanted to chat over drinks. He wanted to see that snug leather jacket off and get a clear idea of the treasures she hid underneath. She would have rounded mounds for breasts. But what colour would her nipples be? Redheads, gods, he loved the idea of seeing—

“Hello?”

He blinked. “We need the godhead you stole from Ares.”

And there went the information he didn’t want her to have. Fuck! “I mean—”

She shrugged, cutting him off with a wave of her hand and a grin that hit right between the eyes before shooting down to join the pulsing party he had going on in his jeans.

Green eyes sparkling with mischief, she said, “Huh, well, that’s cool, as long as there’s no hard feelings, dig?”

Before he could do more than open his mouth, she went on.

Hand on shapely hip, she said, “Look, I’ll give you the lowdown, Sparkie. We work for money. Big money. We don’t take sides, and if you have something someone else is willing to pay us to retrieve? We do it. Now, if you’re willing to pay us to retrieve something that fits into that category, we’re willing to play.” She paused, eyeing him closely as if expecting a response, but then brought her hand up and started ticking off points. “We charge more if it takes longer. We charge more if we are harmed in any way. We charge if the item gets…well…destroyed. And we charge even if the item is not exactly what you thought you were getting. So if you’re game, and don’t hold any, you know, hard feelings over the acquisition of the item”—she grinned and tossed her hair off her shoulder and lifted a brow mockingly—“then game on, you dig? But you have to agree to our terms first.”

He struggled to follow her unique logic, but stalled over what she was actually saying. She did this all the time—stole artefacts for immortals. The risks had to be enormous. But treating something as dangerous as a godhead as just another job? And her theft as a simple business transaction? Amazing.

“Acquisition?” he asked.

She walked over to his SUV, erasing the distance between them, and leaned a slender shoulder against his door, arms crossed and green eyes curious. Her eyes had a slight tilt at the outer corners, he noticed. Like a cat’s, he thought, as she mesmerised him.

When he took a deep breath to calm his pounding body, he caught a hint of her sultry scent. She smelt like jasmine with a hint of peppermint. The scent reminded him of home. Perfect. As if he needed more proof she had his body on autopilot, his balls drew up tight and hard. His body felt nearly ready to burst from the one little whiff of her.

She glanced away to examine her nails. He glanced down, following her gaze, and he clenched his jaw. She had slim, graceful fingers tipped with short black nails. He could picture—no, he could feel—those fingers running up and down his cock. He bet she had warm hands.

After a heartbeat, she looked back at him. Her lips were shimmery, wet-looking with some sparkling glitter mixed in with the soft, plush lines. He wanted to kiss her. The urge was so powerful, he had to sink his ass deeper in his seat to keep himself still.

She gave him a small but devastating smile and laughed softly. “Well, call it what you will, but… Hey, are you all right? You look a bit off.” She straightened, and he swallowed hard to get his throat working.

“No, don’t go.” Gods help him, he might actually like the torture, because he didn’t want her to move one inch, except perhaps to climb in the SUV with him. Just that brief thought made him want to squirm, and he felt the head of his cock grow wet with pre-cum.

He was way off. He’d not had a hard-on in decades, and now he was one second away from coming in his jeans. His body pulsed, hot, tortured and aching. All for her.

“Uh, listen, if you’re not up to this…”

Up? One look into her green eyes and he cleared his throat. Best she not realise just how up he was for her.

“We agree to the terms.” His voice sounded like someone had rubbed his throat with sandpaper, but he met her eyes steadily, watching her closely to see if any awareness of his level of arousal filtered over her expressive face.

“Okay.” She dragged the word out, obviously not believing him. And just as obviously, she was unaware of his condition. He wasn’t as relieved as he should have been. For one brief, wild moment, he wished she knew. Wished she desired him as much as he did her. Wished she would open his door and climb in, burying his burning body deep in her wet heat.

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.