Eye of the Beholder td-2

by Dana Marie Bell

  Travis’s voice was the only calm one. “Fine. But there will be some ground rules. Understand?”

  She looked up at Travis and nodded. She wanted to help, but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t a god like the others. She was just…Jamie.

  “I’m in too, don’t fight me on it, you won’t win, fuck off if you even bother trying.” Jeff stood. “I need beer.” He headed into the kitchen. Everyone could hear him rattling around in the refrigerator. “Jesus, Logan, can’t you buy decent beer? This stuff is goat piss.”

  “Then don’t drink it, asshole.” Logan gently pushed Jordan off his lap and went into the kitchen, grumbling about pushy dickheads who were too cheap to buy their own beer.

  “And that concludes the mythology portion of tonight’s entertainment.” Jordan grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. “Who wants to watch football?”

  “Ugh.” Jamie nudged Travis until he stood. “I’ll be in the den surfing the internet.”

  “What for?”

  She lied. “I need to check my e-mail.”

  She ignored Travis’s narrow-eyed stare as she hobbled into the den. She shut the door gently behind her and booted up the computer. Smooth move, James, lying to a god of Justice. Hopefully he’d take the hint and let her be to process everything. Not that she had any intention of thinking about anything to do with the mess her family was currently in. No, sirree.

  Time for a little R and R. She typed in her favorite URL and booted up her program, making sure the sound was low enough that none of the others would be able to hear it. She waited until the cheers of the game filtered through the doorway before starting, and was soon engrossed by what she saw.

  Jordan was going to kill her if she checked her browser history. But what the fuck. After that little family purge, Jamie could use a little normal.

  Whatever that was.

  Chapter Six

  Travis stared at the closed office door and wondered what Jamie was lying about. He knew every expression on that beautiful face of hers, including the one she used when trying to snow him. He’d seen it most often when she’d been dating that cheating jerk ex-boyfriend and trying to make it seem like everything was fine between them. He still had the occasional urge to go find the guy and put the fear of god into him.

  “Vincente.” Jeff chuckled, picked up a handful of chips and crammed them in his mouth. Travis wasn’t fooled for a moment. The absent look on Jeff’s face let him know the other man was still processing everything he’d learned.

  “Yup.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Magnus and Morgan groaned in utter disgust and headed for the kitchen, possibly for their own beers.

  Val just watched the football game, used to ignoring the antics of his nieces and nephews.

  Travis felt a growl trying to crawl out of his throat and ruthlessly swallowed it. “Who’s Vincente?”

  They broke down in laughter. “Vincente is…something.” Jordan shook her head, a big grin on her face.

  “Sensational,” Jeff drawled.

  “Dashing.” Jordan put the back of her hand dramatically to her forehead.

  “Breathtaking. A total Spanish hottie.” Jeff shivered dramatically, fanning himself with his hand.

  “Oh. Right. Dead.” Travis stood up, ignoring the howls of laughter from the Dork Squad. He moved quietly to the door, pushing it open slowly.

  She was hunched over the keyboard, staring intently at the monitor. A flush colored her cheeks, her breath moving rapidly in her chest. She licked her lips and sighed.

  Oh, so dead. He glared and moved behind her, intent on seeing what she was watching. Was she talking to Vincente via webcam? He looked at the top of the monitor, and sure enough, Logan and Kir had one hooked up.

  He stopped, stunned, as the action on the screen registered.

  A dark haired man sporting a mullet was seducing a poofed-out brunette. “Oh, Vincente, kiss me again. Roberto cannot hold a candle to you, my love.”

  “My darling Miranda. How I wish that we could be one.” The mullet-haired man dipped the woman and kissed her deeply. Behind them, a large, ornately carved wooden door opened silently.

  “Vincente! How could you? And with my sister!”

  The pair in the clinch stopped and gasped. “Sylvia!”

  It’s a dubbed soap opera. From what, the eighties?

  He almost laughed out loud, only stopping himself when he heard Jamie growl softly. “Don’t touch him, you skank.”

  He bit his lip at the fierce little whisper, almost losing it when she gasped in outrage as the blonde Sylvia slapped Vincente. “Oh, you bitch. To think I liked you.”

  He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, and settled down to watch her watch her soap. The way she nibbled at her finger during the confrontation between the three antagonists, the little sob of fear when Sylvia pulled out a gun, the “Yes!” she hissed when Vincente wrestled it away, just endeared her to him more.

  She was just so… passionate about everything she put her heart into, even something as silly as an old dubbed soap opera. He couldn’t wait to feel all of that passion surrounding him, smothering him in wet, hot heat. The thought of how she would react under his hand, his mouth, his beard tickling her skin and leaving marks behind, had him rock hard in no time.

  He was indulging in a little fantasy where he got to feel her pink lips wrapped around his cock when she squeaked. He focused on her face, curious why she was staring at him in horror.

  “What?”

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Since Sylvia found out Vincente was cheating on her with Miranda. Why?”

  “You didn’t run screaming from the room.”

  “Why would I?”

  “So you just stood there and, what, watched?”

  He grinned and nodded.

  “Really.” She stared at him skeptically, her arms crossing over her chest.

  He pulled away from the wall, leaning over her chair until his lips were mere inches from hers. “I didn’t say what I was watching, did I?”

  “Trav—”

  He didn’t give her a chance to finish whatever it was she’d been about to say. He’d waited far too long for this moment. He took her lips, his hand going to the back of her head and tangling in her wild curls. He stroked her nape gently, loving the feel of her silky hair sliding through his fingers. He licked at those strawberry-tinted lips, silently begging her to let him in.

  After a brief hesitation her lips parted and she began to kiss him back with a shy uncertainty that tugged at him. The urge to plunder her mouth, to taste her sweetness until she was moaning beneath him, nearly overtook him.

  He controlled his first impulse and kept the kiss soft for her. He wanted it to be everything she deserved in a first kiss between them. The ravening conqueror he was would just have to wait until she was ready for him.

  Before too long he was lost in her taste. He could stand there and kiss her for hours and hours, never losing complete touch with those incredibly sweet lips of hers. She was trembling under his palm, her hands inching their way up his arms to his shoulders, her fingers clenching the soft fabric of his shirt. She tried to deepen the kiss and he let her, reveling in the feel of her tongue stroking his. The cast on her wrist reminded him that now wasn’t the time to take this too far. She was too injured to take this much further, but he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. His dick was a throbbing pain behind his jeans, made even worse when one of her hands left his shoulder to cup him.

  He wanted to thrust into her palm, take what she was offering him, but he couldn’t. Inside he growled, wanting to paint the walls red with the blood of the man who’d taken his woman and injured her to the point where Travis couldn’t even take such a simple pleasure without risking her.

  He pulled his hand from her hair and clasped her wrist, pulling it away from his body, trying to hide his reaction. “No, sweetheart, not yet.”

  She mewled, pouting up at h
im. Her expressive face was filled with dazed desire, and he found he couldn’t stop himself. He took her mouth again, this time allowing himself to plunder her sweetness.

  After all, this was their second kiss.

  The door to the office slammed open. “Norns!” Jeff yelled.

  Travis stood, his powers seeping out at the threat. He positioned himself between Jamie and the door.

  “Where?”

  “Gah! My eyes!” Jeff slapped his hand over his eyes, protecting them from Travis’s glow. “God damn it, Travis.”

  Travis sheepishly harnessed his powers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost control like that.

  “Sorry.”

  “Knock next time.” He turned to find Jamie scowling at her twin, her face flushed, her lips swollen from their kisses.

  Jeff put his hands on his hips and glared right back at her. “Y’know, I’ve been here four days and already I’m fed up with Casa de Luuuv. You have a bedroom; use it.”

  Jamie turned as red as her hair. “Dickhead.”

  “As I was saying. Since everyone else’s brains seem to have taken up permanent residence in their crotches, I’ve been doing the thinking.”

  “Oh, that’s where that burning rubber smell came from.”

  Jeff just stared at Jamie until she sniffed and turned away. “If anyone will know the truth of the prophecy, won’t it be the Norns?”

  Travis blinked. “Fuck. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Jeff pointed. “Brain. Crotch.” He threw up his hands in a see? gesture.

  Travis growled.

  Jamie rolled her eyes. She so did not need the two of them turning into cavemen right now. “What the hell are Norns?”

  “Like the three Fates of Greek mythology, the Norns who sit at the base of Yggdrasil are said to hold sway over the fates of men. Verdandi, Skuld and Urd might be able to tell us what is about to happen, but they’ve been known to exact a terrible price for their knowledge.” Travis stroked his beard while he thought. “Let me talk to the others, see who’s willing to take on the trip.”

  “Why not you?”

  He looked down at Jamie and smiled. “I have more important things to take on.”

  “On that note, I cordially invite you to leave my bedroom and go to your own.” Jeff opened the door and bowed. “Feel free to leave Vincente on the screen while you’re at it.”

  Jamie leaned forward and hugged the screen, wincing a little as she did so. “Mine!”

  “Nope.” Travis scooped her out of the chair, ignoring her outraged squawk. He carried her out the door, winking at Jeff as he did so. “Mine.”

  Jamie stared up at the bearded face above her. “Travis, what the hell is going on?” She could hear her voice rising on each word and knew she was this close to shrieking.

  He smiled that lopsided smile of his. “What do you mean?”

  The smug male look on his face had her growling. “You know exactly what I mean. Calling me sweetheart. Checking up on me when I went into the office. Sucky-face. The caveman routine. But most especially the sucky-face.”

  “Oh. That.”

  “Yes, that.”

  He placed her on the bed, settling her against the pillows. Then he began tugging on her T-shirt.

  “Well, that was me staking my claim.”

  She grabbed the hem of her shirt and hung on for dear life. If she’d had both hands she might even have managed to stop him. As it was the shirt was soon on the floor. She crossed her arms over her chest, determined to keep her bra and her dignity. “How romantic. Where were you planning on planting your flag?”

  The hot look he shot her had her gulping. “Where do you think I should plant it?”

  She crossed her legs, smiling when he laughed. She placed her hand against his chest when he began tugging on her pants. He stopped instantly when she winced. “Travis?”

  “Hmm?” He pulled her other hand away from her chest, pouting when she covered herself again with her free hand.

  “Before we get to the naked, don’t you think we should talk?”

  He stared at her blankly, his pupils dilating. She could actually see the white mist creeping across the blue.

  She smacked him in the side of the head with one of those weird oblong pillows people liked to put on their bed for decoration but never actually used other than to bop other people upside the head.

  The white receded. Unfortunately— fortunately her traitorous body whispered—that left him free to unsnap the front clasp of her bra. “Travis.”

  “Talk is overrated.” He gave her his best innocent look, snickering when she rolled her eyes. “Okay. I was only planning on getting you into your nightgown. Trust me, you’re not up for what I have in mind.”

  “Suuure you were.”

  He reached beneath her pillow and pulled out a blue silky nightgown. She didn’t recognize it. “For you.”

  She took the nightgown, stunned that he would get her such a gift. Then she saw the tag.

  “Vera Wang? ”

  “You like it?”

  She looked up into his hopeful face. “It’s sheer.”

  “I know.”

  She thumped him on the thigh. “Travis. ”

  “Fine.” He got her plain cotton nightgown out of her dresser drawer. “Here.”

  He sounded so put-upon she nearly giggled. She’d done entirely too much of that recently. It made her sound like a chipmunk on speed. “Turn around.”

  “Do I have to?”

  She stifled the urge to shake her head. The Norse God of Justice is pouting in my bedroom. “It’s either that or you can leave.”

  He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. “You drive a hard bargain.” He turned his back on her, his hand on his hip.

  “No peeking.”

  His shoulders shook.

  She got out of her clothes as quickly as she could with a broken wrist and a bum leg. She threw on the nightgown, grumbling when she got tangled up in it. Her head popped out of the top to find Travis, his back still turned toward her, but his head turned toward…

  “That’s cheating.”

  “I did not once turn around to look at you.”

  “You didn’t tell me you could see me in the mirror.”

  “You told me not to peek. You said nothing about watching what I could already see.” He pulled his shirt over his head, the smooth muscles of his back rippling beneath her fascinated gaze. He turned around, giving her a view of mouth-watering chest, and undid his jeans, sliding them to the floor, exposing his blue silk boxers. He picked up his clothes and carried them to the chair in the corner, throwing them over the arm before turning back to the bed. “Comfortable?”

  With wet panties? Not really. She crawled under the covers, his near-nudity almost distracting her from the pain of her movements.

  He went to the other side of the bed, settling in next to her.

  “What are you doing?”

  He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Going to bed.”

  She had the feeling that if she tried to kick him out she’d have an argument on her hands. And, really, did she want to kick him out? She eyed his powerful shoulders. Could she kick him out? The man was a god. Was he into the whole divine retribution thing? She said nothing as he pulled the covers up, but she could feel him watching her. He propped the pillows behind his head, sitting up partially. “Okay. Talk.”

  Now that he was staring at her, ready to answer her questions, she had no idea where to start.

  He smiled. “Yes, I’m really Tyr. Over a millennium ago, Odin declared war on the Vanir. I thought at the time that what he was after were the skills of the Dökk Alfar, but what he was really after was Idunn and her apples. If I’d known then what I know now, Odin and his Aesir would never have laid a single hand on them. I would have burned them to the ground myself.”

  “What do the apples do? I mean, why are they so important to him?” She rolled over, resting her head on her arm, watching him.


  “The apples make even the gods susceptible to suggestion. Combined with Odin’s own ability to confuse the mind, they made him nearly irresistible. He used them to control the remaining Vanir, the Lios and Dökk Alfar and the Aesir. He had us all convinced that Idunn’s apples were necessary to our immortality. I knew better, deep down, but I couldn’t break the hold Grimm had on me. None of us could.”

  “Not until that huge fight the two of you had.”

  He nodded. “No way was I selling Guardian Investigations to him.” He frowned, then shook his head.

  “I’m not even sure why I was resistant to him, but I avoided him after that, even going so far as to ignore his calls. If I hadn’t, odds are good that when I saw Logan and Kir again, I would have tried to kill them both.”

  She bit her lip, thinking about everything she’d learned. “Why did you kiss me?”

  He leaned over her, brushing his lips against hers. She had the urge to cup his cheek and rub her palm over his whiskers. “If it hadn’t been for my fight with Grimm I would have come after you a lot sooner.”

  He was so close she could see the specks of gold in his blue eyes. “Travis, what the hell are you talking about?” She frowned, confused. “Or should I call you Tyr?”

  “Travis. At least for now.”

  “Oh. Planning on a name change soon?”

  “At some point Travis Yardley-Rudiger will die, and I’ll become someone else.”

  “You’ll come up with a different name, right? Oh! How about Timothy, um, Inigo Walter, uh,” she counted off on her fingers, trying to remember all the letters “Anson Zebediah?” She grinned up at him.

  A slow grin took over Travis’s face. “That’s worse than what I’ve got now.”

  “Really, brain surgeon? Who came up with it?”

  He crossed his eyes and raspberried her. She laughed. It was weird, but he was still Travis, even after everything he’d told her and shown her. Knowing that he was pretty much the same man she’d always known helped relax some of the tension that had been tightening her shoulders and back.

  Even so, it wasn’t her fault if the laughter had a slightly hysterical edge to it, was it?