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.

Unlike he and his men. He could barely take his eyes off her, but did to survey his men. They appeared on edge. Even Narc seemed off his game. They were used to fighting in cities, not in open, lush jungles. Centuries before they’d have been more at ease out in the open, but that was another lifetime.

Ajax tipped his head in Tabithia’s direction and Aeros turned to see she’d crouched down, running her hand over the red dirt, her expression distant.

“This place is full of life, almost overflowing with it.” Ajax moved over, sheathing his blade. “Will you be able to sense the godhead in all this?”

She flashed her little white teeth in a grin. “Yeah, I think I can manage it, if you can manage to keep up.”

The men laughed.

Aeros didn’t. She worried him. By the look of his men, she worried them as well. They might hide it with humour, but they had all moved into protective stances with her in the centre of their shelter. Did she know? He doubted it. By the look of all the knives, mostly throwing knives he noted, except the one on her hip she toyed with, she looked like a Celtic warrior. No doubt she wouldn’t be pleased to know they were prepared to protect her first and foremost.

Ajax walked off, far enough to see the perimeter of the clearing, his light eyes not missing a thing. His light brown hair was held back in his queue, making him appear more Anglo than ever. He rested his assault rifle against the ground and scanned the tree line.

The Bard broke free from the jungle then, interrupting Ajax’s response. The Bard’s curly black hair was soaked with sweat, his BDUs showing sweat stains as well. His machete was covered in green slime and he had scratches and cuts on his face and arms, as if he’d fought the jungle off. He loped to them, a frown clear even from the distance.

“Something isn’t right. The jungle is dense, true, but the damn thing is clingier than a stripper on ecstasy.”

Ignoring the Bard, Aeros shot Tabithia a glance. She grinned, arms crossed under her abundant breasts waiting on them.

“Really? Sweet. Well, I’ll leave that one alone. Now, this way, boys. No worries, you won’t need those.” Motioning to the machetes, she marched off, her cute ass on display in those tight pants.

“Fall in.” He didn’t wait, but jogged after her. The reason they wouldn’t need the machetes became apparent almost immediately. The jungle pretty much opened up and accepted them as they headed down a trail he’d not seen before. A tingling surrounded them, as if the air was charged, or worse, holding its breath. Aeros spared a glance at his men. Aaron arched an eyebrow, but didn’t speak. Ajax had brought his rifle, but he had it strapped to his back, and kept his machete in his right hand. He was intent on their surroundings, but stayed silent as well. Narc merely nodded as their glances caught, alert as ever. The Bard muttered under his breath, eyeing the jungle in disbelief.

Satisfied his men were safe, Aeros checked out the path Tabithia had found. What were the odds that they would find a trail? Humans hadn’t made it. Animals? Probably not. That narrowed it down quite a bit.

“You did this?”

“Yep, still doubting my skill, huh?”

“No, Tabithia, I never doubted your skills at magic.” He merely didn’t want an inch of her harmed.

She made a non-committal sound in her throat but stayed silent otherwise.

Something Tabithia had said early, though, resonated with him. It was like the godhead had a mind of its own.

Could that be? Could the artefact be more than he’d ever believed? And why did Ares need it back so badly? What threat did it pose if he didn’t bring it back to Ares within the moon cycle?

“Stop.” Tabithia’s whisper had him halting a breath behind her. She smelt fresh, like some sunny field of jasmine, sweet and pure. “Back up a step, would you, Sparkie?” Grumbling something under her breath, she held a hand up when he opened his mouth. She took a step like a blind man would when entering an unknown room. “Not good. Not freakin’ good. Shit.”

“What is it?” He saw nothing. No difference that he could see or feel. Well, he felt something but it was a familiar pulsing beneath his trousers. Merely the sight of this woman had him gritting his teeth and clenching his hands to fight the urge to pull her close.

“Shhh…” Cocking her head to the side, she lowered her arm and slowly crouched down on the trail. A huge root criss-crossed at the toes of her boots, the thick moss-covered appendage bigger than his waist. He watched her reach out and run a small hand over the bark much like he’d fantasised about her stroking him. Under her hand, the root arched for more of her touch. His hand tightened on his machete.

“Ah…good, very good, but not good enough. You’ll have to try a bit harder, won’t you?”

Before Aeros could ask what she meant, her hands glowed green and she wove them in a complicated pattern. A cold breeze blew against his back and the small hairs on the back of his neck tingled. The men behind him shifted quietly, but didn’t move from their positions.

The breeze grew to a strong wind. Around them the jungle quieted. The immense kapok trees to either side of the trail suddenly made a sound as if struck by lightning. The crack had his rifle in his hands and his attention fixed on the path ahead of her. Behind him, he sensed his men doing the same. Near his head, flowers the size of dinner plates suddenly snapped shut, hiding their oddly coloured yellow, purple and pink petals.

Acting as if nothing had happened, Tabithia stood gracefully from her crouch, patted the kapok tree next to her and tilted her head up at him. A shiver settled over his back at the calculating look in her eyes.

“I thought I said you didn’t need that?”

He re-slung his rifle and ran a hand through his short hair. What to say?

“Mmm, well, whatever makes you feel better, I suppose. So, this godhead.” Her gaze turned into something powerful. “This is some kind of relic, don’t you think? She’s tricky, huh?”

She? Before he could ask, Tabithia shrugged.

“No worries, we’ll figure it out. Watch out for the vines, boys.” She tapped a long, thick one with her finger and tutted at him. “Poisonous, you know?”

“The vines?”

Behind him, Narc cursed and stepped away from where he’d been leaning on one.

“Yep, best not touch anything, ‘kay?”

Again, she turned without waiting on a response. She stepped over the now motionless root and waved them on.

“Come on, they should behave for a while now, but we need to speed the pace up a bit.”

Narc lifted a shaggy brow. “Behave?”

“Did you see that root move?” the Bard demanded.

She’d spooked his men. All of them wore worried scowls, even Ajax. The silent assassin looked like he’d just been floored by her power.

“We move on. She’s a witch. She’s doing what she can to make sure we get the relic back.” He hoped. He drew his machete and the others did the same. The Bard had never sheathed his, he noted. Aaron grimaced but nodded. Narc simply scowled and fell back next to Ajax. Assured they all were paying attention, Aeros turned and caught up to her within seconds.

“What was that back there?”

She frowned. Her delicate eyebrows were shades darker than her stunning hair and angled down whenever she seemed to worry over something. Her bangs blew in the soft breeze, revealing the frown marring her perfect forehead. On the flight, she’d also nibbled her finger, analysing something in her mind for hours without speaking. What, he didn’t know, but he wanted to. Now he needed to.

“I need to know so I can be prepared, Tabithia.”

“Yeah, got the memo,” she grumbled. “The first spell. She’s good. And I have a feeling we are dealing with something altogether different, or maybe not different… Maybe she wanted out of your god’s little altar and out here in this realm. Whatever, she’s tricky, very tricky, but we’ll see who wins in the end, right?”

“Why do you keep refereeing to the relic as a she? Why can’t the godhead now be in the hands of a witch?”

She stopped and met his eyes steadily. Hers were the deepest green he’d yet seen on her. Serious. Deadly serious. Centuries before, he’d once passed through the far north, well past Hadrian’s Wall, and found a field, lush and deep green, on the edge of an ancient forest. Her eyes reminded him of that lush clover-filled field. “Well, because this godhead, or whatever you call it, is a creature, not a thing.”

“How can you be sure of this?” He was stunned. How could he not know this?

“I felt something, when I took it. I felt something.” She broke off suddenly with a frustrated sound. “But we were kinda in a hurry. Now?” Her look said she’d had more time to think, and what she thought just might kill any chance he had with her.

“It’s a female. What species, I’m not certain, but I soon will know. Soon. Maybe we’ll all know.”

He didn’t stop her when she moved ahead. Instead, he frowned at his men. Ajax caught his eye before he turned back to the trail. All of them were too far back to have heard her, but he doubted he could convince the playful witch to keep that bit of information under wraps. He still tried.

“Let’s keep that on the lowdown for now. You don’t know that and your guesses merely make this more difficult.”

She glanced back at him, frowning thoughtfully. “More difficult?”

He nodded sharply, hoping she’d see reason. Until they knew what the chalice actually was, it made sense not to say anything.

“So, keep the boys in the dark, huh?”

“They follow orders. They don’t need to know your guesses.”

“Guesses? Interesting.”

Why did he suddenly feel like he’d stepped into a minefield? The next moment, she halted him again, this time with a hiss and a hand on his chest. There was no time to savour how good her small, warm hand felt. A deep unease rushed up his system. He’d lived too long to ignore the warning. Death Stalker attacks usually triggered his instincts, but this felt different. Still, he grabbed hold of her arm and jerked her protectively behind him. Seconds later, all hell broke loose.

Tabithia turned into a shrieking banshee. With more strength than he thought she should possess, she broke his hold. Around them, the jungle erupted in howls, and something small whizzed by his head. Another something—much bigger—crashed through the jungle, making more noise than a nuclear bomb. His men cursed, pulling in tight, guarding Tabithia in a diamond formation.

Her green eyes glowed bright emerald, the colour matching the glow surrounding her palms.

“Hell, hell, hell. What the hell is this?” she screeched.

Behind him, he got the full force of something hitting him hard enough between his shoulder blades that he stumbled forward only to be jerked backward again by the little banshee’s grip on his shirt.

“Oh, no. You stay here. Get out of my way and stay put!”

She tried to shove him back. If she’d slapped him, he’d not have been as surprised. He didn’t budge. She glared up at him then spun in front of him, hands up, to face a stampede of what looked like jungle animals—wild boars, bristly rodents the size of house cats, monkeys screaming from the vines, and even a jaguar—charging them from the trailhead.

Before he could open his mouth or drag her to safety, she started chanting. The glow around her grew almost blinding. Around him, he heard his men swearing, but her voice, her musical song, distracted him. She pitched her tone so low he was surprised the beasts could hear her.

“By Maiden, Mother, and Crone, I bind you to obey me. By the three goddesses, you will listen. Three words I call, three words I evoke, three gods I choose. Go, obey me. Go, obey me! Go! Obey! Me!”

The last she shouted with such power his eardrums felt near to breaking. His men groaned, and the wild pigs squealed. The monkeys’ screams grew louder and turned into a frenzy. The jungle shuddered as the animals turned, frantic to be anywhere but near Tabithia.

“Sweet, you do not want to mess with me.” Her hand shot out in a dismissive gesture.

A branch fell, almost knocking her off her feet. She hissed at the tree and sidestepped the branch easily. Throwing her arms up as in frustration, she glared up at him and blew out a breath.

“Well, she wants to play, huh?”

An evil grin lifted her pink lips and before he could stop her, she leapt up on a tree branch two feet above his head.

“Fuck! Get—”

“Sparkie, never get in the middle of a cat fight.”

He growled a curse, and her eyes widened before she muttered something at him about his language. How she stood on the tiny branch he had no idea, and didn’t want to find out. Instead, he wanted her down. Now.

“Tabithia, you need to—”

Of course, she cut him off.

“Release them! You have no hold on such. Release them! Return them to their own. Release them!” She lifted her arms high above her head, weaving them so fast they left a green glowing pattern. As he watched, the green light spilled from her fingertips, like lightning from the clouds, built up to a brilliance that had him grimacing and his eyes watering to keep her in sight. Her red hair blew on a breeze, her heavy bangs lifting and revealing her determined expression.

Power sizzled to a point of almost pain around them. Next to him, a tree split in two, crashing heavily to the jungle floor. Another made an ear-splitting explosion behind him. As Aeros watched Tabithia, she flung up a hand and murmured something low. The tree veered left and landed a hundred feet to their left in the jungle. A branch followed, then another. Something sounding like flowing water began to penetrate his brain. Tabithia jumped down, landing lightly next to him in a crouch before slowly standing. Suddenly, everything around him dimmed compared to the powerful ten-foot-high wall of water cutting a path through the jungle towards them.

“Fuck!” Ajax made a jump closer. Aaron dropped into a crouch, looking stunned. Narc grabbed the Bard by the back of his BDUs to drag him closer. All of them looked out of their depth. He knew the feeling.

Eyes back on Tabithia, he watched as she lifted her hands, palms together until they were even with her face, then shoved them apart and out, making a sound like a shriek, wild and powerful, as she did. The wall of water parted close on either side of where they stood but not so much as a drop touched them. Around them, though, dark water the colour of mud, filled with debris, swirled and arrowed by them in a moving wall. Tabithia stood in the middle, the point deflecting the power attacking them while he and his men stood and watched.

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.