by Marie Harte
Slowly, he breathed in and out, breaking the tension and concentrated on the feel of her soft, steady heartbeat. She would be fine. She had to be fine. For the first time in his immortal life he felt. From her, he knew. Now, panic flooded him. The last time that sensation rushed his body like this he’d been a young boy, without more to worry over than surviving the next task his masters gave him. Now, he held Tabithia closer and refused to give into the fear of losing her.
She simply needed rest. She needed rest. He repeated it like a mantra the entire way back to where he’d left the men setting up tents.
Camp was almost complete. The tents were set up with hers central, exactly where he wanted her.
He feared her leaving. Now he feared her being under some spell, hurting, and him with no way to aid her. Protect her. How could he do nothing except hope she’d simply exhausted herself with too many spells?
Panic tightened his chest. What if it wasn’t that, but a spell harming her even now? She was a witch, a spell-caster. The covens were known for being devious.
As soon as he thought it, he denied the accusation. Witches were no more devious than others of the non-human breeds. The covens were independent, each as individual as the members that made up their ranks. Her coven had a long history of integrity and honour. She might work with this partner of hers for her own gains, but she’d been fair and clear even in her outrageous demands. Already she’d saved him and his crew. He had no doubt he and his men would have suffered without her.
Now? Now she’d either fought something else and been harmed, or had exhausted herself using too much of her magic.
She looked so innocent and almost childlike in his arms. So light he could have carried her hundreds of miles, if not indefinitely, and never tired.
He would give her a few hours. If she didn’t wake he would have to get her out of here.
The implications of that didn’t bode well. They had a two-day hike back up and out to the aircraft without her aid in clearing the trail. He had little hope that the path she’d cleared with her magic would still remain. If she didn’t wake, he’d have to chance it, though.
“What happened?” Ajax jumped up from sharpening his blade.
Aaron demanded information. “Damn, man, was she attacked? Is she harmed? Did the witch attack her?”
Aeros stalled the rest of the questions simply because he refused to slow down to hear them. “I don’t know. I found her like this.” She’d been wavering on her feet then collapsed, but they didn’t need to know that or that she’d said his name. Had she been calling for his aid?
“Settle down, Aeros. She’s simply sleeping.” Ajax brushed a hand over her brow, frowning down at her.
“How do you know that?”
Shrugging, he adjusted his machete before he said, “If she were harmed, don’t you think we’d be suffering some major spells?”
The other men crowded around, each showing concern. Had she already made such an impression on his men that they accepted her so completely? Yes. She had from the first moment she’d walked into their home. The Spartans, each so private and guarded with strangers, had opened up to her like no other. He frowned, but filed the idea away for later inspection. Now he needed her awake and well. They needed to discuss his kiss and her response. She had responded. As soon as she awoke, they’d discuss…what? The way he’d not wanted to stop? How he’d wanted to strip her bare and claim her until they’d both fallen, exhausted, asleep in each other’s arms?
“Aye, Ajax is right. Besides, we will have to wait and see. She’s out, Aeros.” Aaron turned and went back to completing the last tent.
Wait and see? He glared at them, but none of his men would meet his eyes.
Wait and see? That meant nothing more than helplessly sitting here. Unprepared. Unable to do anything.
Damn near impossible and worse, they were right. He knew that. He couldn’t chance panicking. He’d never panicked a day in his life.
He could not start now. She needed him. Whether or not she knew it. The thought brought a smile to his lips. She’d not like knowing she needed him. Sighing, he ducked his head under the low entrance to her tent and stood nearly upright. The collapsible pole in the centre made the tent tall, nearly large enough for him and certainly big enough for them both. Gently, so as not to wake her, he settled her on the blanket-covered travel pad he’d set up for her. He knew she liked her privacy. He’d hoped she’d like the tent enough to ease her anger. Possibly talk to him. Let him hold her again. Finish their kiss, perhaps.
Settling in next to her on the ground, he’d give her five hours. Something close to panic brushed down his spine. Five hours might be too long. A few hours. Just a few, then he’d wake her. Surely, she was fine. Exhausted. She was merely exhausted.
Her small face softened in slumber, making her appear too young, too small for the needs raging through him. He reached out and brushed a lock of bright hair from her cheek, letting the silken strands spill through his fingers. Had he ever felt anything so sinfully soft?
He forced himself to rest against the tent pole and away from her seductive scent. Outside, he heard his men talking in low murmurs. Smells of food—warm stew, he thought—filtered in. He’d have to eat soon. And sleep.
But not until Tabithia awoke.
Until then, he’d wait.
For the first time since meeting her he realised he could watch her uninterrupted by anyone or anything.
He’d wait.
Tabithia shot up, a scream caught in her throat. She wasn’t alone. Years of trying to hold those terrified sounds in had her jaw clenched tight.
In the dim light, she barely made out the shadowy form of someone with her.
“Light!” she cried, calling the spell to illuminate.
Aeros came into view, squinting against the light. He held a forearm up to shield his eyes. He appeared larger than ever sitting not more than two inches from her.
A tent. She was in a tent. She’d passed out?
“You are well?”
Heat flamed her cheeks. Had he been here watching her? “How long was I out?”
“What caused you to lose consciousness? Were you attacked? Fighting something?”
At his question, she met his concerned hazel eyes. He needed to shave. The idea popped into her head before she could stop it from forming into an image of him doing just that, a towel wrapped around his powerful hips, back bare as he faced a mirror, carefully using a straight edge to clean the dark bristle from his square jaw.
Swallowing, she looked away. Was that a creation of her own, or something she had or would see? It had felt real. Solid. Like she’d simply been lying on a bed behind him watching curiously as he spoke to her of something completely normal while he shaved.
Normal. What the hell did she know of normal?
“Tabithia?”
“Yeah, yeah, fighting? Nothing, no fighting. Just tired, I suppose. You guys are high maintenance.” Very high.
Artemis. Artemis had been in that glen. There’d been words. She rubbed her nose with a wrist, trying to remember. Her memory was fuzzy.
“Do you have to answer to more than one god? Or is Ares the only one?”
Frowning, Aeros tilted his head. Intelligence reflected in his eyes, calculating his answer, and no doubt trying to decipher why she’d asked her question. He sat with one leg drawn up, and one of his powerful arms resting casually against his knee. He had awesome hands. Rough, warrior like with long, big fingers and broad palms—powerful hands she knew. But also gentle – with her.
“I don’t answer to Ares. I serve him, yes, but it is not as if—”
“You ask how high when he snaps his fingers? Got it. Look, I’m used to alone time, if you don’t mind?”
Narrowing his beautiful eyes, he managed to look suspicious and offended all at once.
Didn’t matter, she needed him gone. How the hell she’d managed not to scream she didn’t know, and she wasn’t questioning her luck, but still.
She needed some time away from everyone. While lucid. “I’m good. Thanks for bringing me here. Gods only know what would be crawling all over me if I’d dropped where I was. Thanks.”
“You are welcome, Tabithia. I will bring you something to eat. You must be hungry.”
Something did smell good, like a savoury stew or soup? Out here? She’d brought power bars, chocolate-banana, her favourite on-the-road snack but cooking outdoors? Not her thing. But if someone else had?
“Sure thing. But I’ll come out. I gotta clean up.” She was disgustingly dirty. She even had dirt under her nails. She was caked in grime from Dare’s tricks. There was water not too far from where they’d chosen to camp. An underwater fresh water supply was what she needed.
“Clean up?” Eyeing her as if he couldn’t understand, he still didn’t move to leave.
“Uh, yeah. You know? I’m filthy, disgusting. I need some alone time, then I’ll have whatever’s on the menu, ‘kay?”
“First eat, and then clean up.”
“I’m filthy, I need to clean up. I’ll only be a minute. Trust me, I am gross.”
Aeros frowned as if her words were confusing, which confused her. She was covered in dirt and probably smelt.
“I’m not sure that’s a good—”
“Look, I’ve spelled the area, the water’s within my protections. No worries.” She stood and watched him lumber to his feet. The man was tall. He had to be six foot and a half maybe with some change. She felt tiny compared to him, and she was a nice tall five-six and a half.
“Eat first. You’ve not eaten yet—”
She could recognise stubborn when she saw it. She nodded.
“Great. Great, I’ll eat first.” Scooting past him, she sucked in a breath when her arm brushed his. Tingles raced through her body and dampened places she just knew weren’t okay. Not now at least, not when she was filthy.
She glanced up. Their eyes met. He was so close. Like before when he’d landed on top of her, his eyes darkened, seemed to grow hungry and she had a feeling the soup wasn’t what he craved. Her. He wanted her.
What an amazing thought. She was dirty, grubby even, covered in a light dusting of disgusting cave mud, and the man looked like he wanted something she wasn’t exactly certain she could give.
Taking a step towards her, he reached over and touched her face, brushing something off her cheek.
“You do have a bit of dirt on your face, but you will never be disgusting, Tabithia. But go and clean up, if you must. Then, we have things to discuss, you and I.”
‘Aeros, he will…be your salvation.’
The goddesses just might be right.
Chapter Eleven
Aeros had seen many things in his long existence. Many things he wished he’d not seen. This, what stood before him now, he would never forget. The picture of Tabithia, naked, gloriously wet, would stay with him for an eternity. He felt the image sink into his pores and knew he’d have only to close his eyes hundreds of years from now and see her like he did now.
She stood beneath an underground waterfall, illuminated by blue, green and pink flowers glowing and filling the enormous cavern with a rainbow of light.
Around her, playing in the water were other beings, nymphs he thought, but he couldn’t glance away from Tabithia long enough to investigate.
Tabithia stunned him. Slim, but plump in such wonderful places, she stood, the picture of all he’d ever wanted, but had never realised he needed in his bleak existence. As he watched, she arched up on her tiptoes, tipped her head back under the spray of water and lifted her hands to rub through her long red hair.
He swallowed hard and blinked. From where he stood, he could see every inch of her, yet he sensed neither she, nor the creatures with her, could see or sense him. For the first time since he’d met her, he had time to look his fill.
Her feet were tiny, her toenails painted some dark colour. He thought black, but perhaps a dark green? Didn’t matter, her feet were the least of what had him hard as a rock. Her slim ankles and long, shapely legs had his heart racing. The red, beautiful curls between her thighs had him biting back a groan. He salivated, ready to taste every inch of that perfect little mound and the secret hidden flesh between. She’d be pink, pretty and pink. She’d taste like she smelt—soft, warm and sweet. She shaved her mound into an upside-down arrow and his mind swirled with ways to follow that arrow and spread her creamy thighs so he could dive into her lush, feminine lips and savour every ounce of her sweetness.
She tossed her head and smiled down at something as she smoothed her hands over her ribs and down her flat stomach. Her hips flared before narrowing to a tiny waist. Swirling around her upper thigh and on around her waist, a tattoo decorated her pale skin with brilliant colour. The ink ran along her body like a vine, and he realised it was. Some sort of long, green, small-leafed illustration that trailed along her thigh, stomach and around her left ribcage and beyond that, he thought. He wanted to explore every inch of that ink and lick along every inch of her.
As he watched, she raised her arms and played with the water, cupping it and pouring it over her face repeatedly. Her generously rounded breasts rose with her movements. He swore he could see her pink nipples hardening to a rosy blush even as he watched.
He must have made a sound because she turned her head towards where he stood. From under the spray, her green eyes widened, and her hands froze inches below her chin, still cupped with the water in them.
He stood hip deep in the pool, but he knew his cock head floated above the surface. His body tightened as her mouth formed a perfect O. He wanted those lips on him, sucking along his throbbing crest and swallowing as much of his painful shaft as she wanted.
Her eyes flared wider, flying to his face with a sucked-in breath. Around her, the pool erupted in laughs and shrieks, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away from her. The sounds of the departing nymphs filled the cavern with splashing. Within seconds, all that was left was the sound of the waterfall crashing down and his heartbeat pounding in his chest.
“Gods, Tabithia, you are so fucking perfect.”
She couldn’t have heard him, but he couldn’t help saying it.
Gasping, she dived in the water, staying under for several seconds only to re-emerge with an indignant glare.
“You shouldn’t be here. And you shouldn’t cuss, it’s not polite.”
His face burned when she glanced down at his hips again. He couldn’t follow her stare to see how huge he’d become. Instead, he locked his knees and stood his ground, letting her have her look.
“You need to…go.” She barely spoke above a murmur, but he felt like her voice shivered down his spine.
She slowly lowered herself until only the deep pools of her emerald eyes and the bridge of her nose remained visible above the water. As he watched, her expressive face softened. Adrenaline pulsed along his nerve endings at the feminine challenge blossoming in her stare.
“Tabithia… Gods, I…”
He reached for her, but something in her expression warned him to go slow. Gazes locked, he gradually sank deeper into the water until he didn’t tower over her. She looked like a curious, but frightened mermaid, ready to dive under and disappear forever if he made the wrong move. When he was nearly touching her, she shocked him by rising up higher in the water, until the tops of her rounded breasts taunted him. Her nipples were a dark pink. If he took a deep breath, their chests would touch.
“You should go.” She whispered her words but slowly lifted her hand and touched just her fingertips to his body, where the tattoo he’d had inked on several years before marked his heart. The tattoo represented his battle to survive in this world, to retain his humanity when all around him life dimmed to a dull grey. Her touch brought a spark of life to the skin where she touched.
“This is lovely, Aeros.”
He barely heard her. Something in his chest constricted painfully, dulling the ache of his pulsing erection. Leisurely, she trailed her fingers over h
is chest and around his shoulder to linger on his arm where another tattoo circled his biceps.
“It reminds me of many things. Your battles, I think.”
He nodded sharply. She swept her small fingers over his overheated skin, sucking the air from his lungs. How would it feel to have those soft, cool hands stroking him to completion? She paused at his neck and tipped her head to look up. Her breasts brushed his chest and his cock jumped, the tip finding silky skin.
She looked startled but didn’t move away. “What is this?”
Her whispered question made him frown, his lust-filled thoughts too full of his first feel of her skin against his. She smiled softly and lightly touched the cool metal resting against his throat.
His pendant. She meant his pendant, not his aching body finally getting a feel of her warm, beautiful skin.
He cleared his throat and said, “A child gave it to me. Long ago.” Centuries before, in fact. Trying to keep his hands off her was too hard. Keeping contact with her curious gaze, he reached up and took her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Tabithia, you’re driving me insane, baby. Let me kiss you. Hold you.”
She froze at the first brush of his lips to her knuckles, but slowly, as he pressed kisses against her cool flesh, she nodded, clearly hesitant again, and he thought a bit fearful, but also curious. Thank the gods. He wasn’t sure if he could take much more of her being so close, without touching her.
“You have nothing to fear, baby. I would suffer anything for you, and I’ll never let you be harmed. Not by me. Not by anyone.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was the truth. The finality of those words brought something close to joy into his heart, something warm enough to block out the years of loneliness. She was his. Somehow or another, she was his to protect, to watch over, to keep safe. He might have a hell of a time convincing her of that, but no matter what else happened on this mission, no matter what Ares said or did, Tabithia was his. He could feel the rightness of it as his words sank in.