Gods on Earth: Complete Series (Books 1-3): Paranormal Romances with Norse Gods, Tricksters, and Fated Mates

by Andrijeski, JC

  Even his body had strange markings on it.

  She’d noted what looked like runic tattoos across the top of his chest.

  She found herself staring at those tattoos now, black and gold over his darkish skin, nearly at eye-level as he leaned closer.

  In the market, she’d settled on just taking his one ring.

  She’d viewed it as a token from Kathmandu, where she hadn’t had the opportunity to steal much of value, at least not for herself. Perhaps even a token of the man himself, who’d struck her as unique in the sea of bodies wandering through the Kathmandu streets near the old stupas, and not only due to his jewelry.

  The ring itself fascinated her.

  It seemed to glow from his right hand, where he wore it on his middle digit. It looked like real gold, possibly with some other metal threaded through, and the runes decorating the edge were beautiful, painted deep black and carved with precision.

  She was sure Fonzo could unload it for her. He could possibly even sell it at auction, if it turned out to be a genuine antique.

  If it turned out to be worth nothing, she’d just keep it herself.

  That, or give it to Maia.

  Now she found herself staring at the ring’s owner, wondering how the hell he’d found her. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought he’d even felt her lift the ring. She’d managed it while he’d been staring at a stand covered in statues made of various crystals and quartz.

  He hadn’t even looked at her as she coaxed it off his finger.

  But he must have felt something.

  He also must have tailed her, both on foot and in a taxi or auto-rickshaw, and caught up with her at the airport.

  Had he really bought a ticket to Los Angeles––or even just to Bangkok––for a stupid ring? Was it the one ring to rule them all or something?

  Some kind of family heirloom?

  Just her luck the stupid thing would actually matter to him this much, that he’d be crazy enough to follow her onto a plane to get it back.

  “Excuse me?” Lia gave him her most disarming, blond-girl smile, blanking her eyes. “I’m so sorry, but I think you must have the wrong person.”

  The leaf-green eyes stared at her.

  They didn’t so much as flicker.

  “No,” he said. “I most definitely do not.”

  Lia pursed her lips, giving him a puzzled look, her eyes still mostly blank.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, smiling. “I really don’t recognize you. You honestly think we’ve met somewhere before? In Nepal? Or somewhere else?”

  “I honestly think you took the ring off my finger in the market like a sneaky little elf,” the man replied, his smile unwavering below those hard, sharp-looking eyes. “I honestly think you’re a naughty, smirky, unapologetic thief, and an accomplished liar, and I could pick you up and drag you out of here by your hair and no one could stop me.”

  He paused, still smiling at her.

  “Or,” he said, tilting his head. “I could simply throttle you with one hand while I search your person… or until you pass out and I can search you more easily.”

  He paused again.

  “Or,” he said, smiling a touch wider. “I could grab you by the ankles, hold you up, and shake you… hard… until the ring falls out of whatever crevice or orifice in which you’ve stashed my shiny, very important, little trinket.”

  Lia blinked, feeling some of the blood drain from her face.

  Her jaw hardened then, even as she searched those pale eyes.

  She wasn’t about to let some bozo with a mental problem take the one item she’d managed to lift all day that might actually be worth something.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to call the stewardess,” she said politely, smiling back at him. “You seem rather unhinged, if you don’t mind my saying. I don’t really feel safe sitting next to you. I might even have to scream rape. And flash my American passport around a little. And mention to anyone who will listen that my father works at one of the embassies… and therefore I have diplomatic immunity.”

  That last part wasn’t true of course, but her passport said it was.

  Just one of the many perks of working for the Syndicate.

  Across from her, those green eyes didn’t flicker.

  He stared at her, his expression unmoving, his mouth still in that disturbing grin.

  “I think I can probably scream louder than you,” he told her. “I can also make you scream… and the stewardess scream… and possibly the pilot. I don’t think you’ve quite grasped what you’re dealing with here, little girl.”

  Lia quirked an eyebrow, smiling back at him.

  “I really don’t know what you mean,” she said sweetly, pressing the call button subtly with one hand, hiding it from him by shifting sideways in her seat. “But if you need help locating whatever it is you think you lost––”

  “I did not lose anything, human––”

  “Human?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Are you a fish?”

  The man didn’t so much as blink.

  “Give it back to me. Now. I will not ask again.”

  “I would,” she said, smiling sympathetically. “I really, really would… but I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, sir…”

  She trailed when the stewardess approached their seats, tilting her head sideways in a silent question as she looked between Lia and her new seatmate. The woman stopped at the end of their row, her hands resting easily on top of each aisle seat.

  Right as she paused, and before she spoke, the jet’s engines revved into a higher-pitched whine, right before the plane started moving backwards. It rolled smoothly away from the terminal and the receding jetway.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” the stewardess asked politely. She aimed her stare at Lia, her eyes saying something along the lines of, if you need help, blink once. If you’re okay, blink twice. “I believe this seat is vacant, sir. Do you want to accompany me to your assigned seat on the plane?”

  The man didn’t so much as glance at her.

  “Give me the ring,” he said to Lia, his voice as hard as glass. “Your thievery is losing its charm, girl, clever as it may have been. Give it to me, and all will be well again. I won’t even punish you… most likely.”

  “Sir?” the stewardess said, speaking louder over the plane’s engine, leaning her head and part of her upper body down, likely in an attempt to pull his attention to her. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to return to your assigned seat.”

  “I cannot return there,” the man told her, without looking away from Lia. “As I have never been there.” His eyes hardened on Lia’s. “Do you want me to hurt the nice lady, thief? Or can we settle this in a civilized manner?”

  Lia held up her hands, keeping her eyes totally blank.

  “I just haven’t the faintest clue what he’s talking about, Miss,” she began, aiming her words at the flight attendant and adopting a thick, clueless-sounding Southern accent from the United States. “I’m sure this handsome feller means well, but he’s clearly confused. He really seems to think he knows me––”

  “Clever girl,” the man said, smiling at her shrewdly. “But you are operating on a false premise. One that will burn you in the end.”

  “I’m sure that I don’t know what you mean,” Lia said.

  She smiled at him sweetly, her eyes as blank as a doll’s, mostly for the stewardess’s benefit. The man’s eyes were what captured her, however.

  A hard, near-flame rose behind those pale green irises.

  Briefly, Lia held her breath, wondering if she’d made a mistake, if she’d pushed him too far. Something in his eyes gave her pause, even with the stewardess standing right there. As much as a perverse part of her was enjoying pushing his buttons, another, likely more sensible part of Lia wondered if she should just give him the ring.

  Clearly, he was going to cause problems for her if she didn’t.

  Before she’d quite tipped over that th
reshold, the captain was walking up to them from the front of the plane. Since she was on an American airline, the man was American, and tall and white. When he spoke, Lia found herself thinking his Southern accent was likely real.

  “Sir?” the captain said. “I’m going to need you to go to your seat. Now. Or we’ll have to leave you here in Kathmandu. We can’t have you bothering the plane’s other passengers.”

  Lia watched the man with the green eyes as he seemed to assess the situation.

  He looked at the male captain, then at the stewardess… then back at her, Lia.

  He smiled only at Lia.

  “Why, of course,” he said, smiling even more widely at her. “I wouldn’t wish to cause any sort of scene.” His grin widened more, turning shark-like. “The last thing on Earth I’d want is to delay the travels of these good, fine, upstanding citizens.”

  The stewardess exchanged looks with the captain, then sighed in obvious relief.

  “Thank you, sir. We appreciate your cooperation.”

  The man with the leaf-green eyes never took them off Lia’s face.

  He continued to watch her as he let the stewardess steer him down the aisle, towards a seat located in the front part of the plane, which had to be first or business class.

  The captain lingered by Lia for a moment.

  “Are you okay, Miss?” he said.

  She smiled her thousand-watt smile up at him.

  “I’m great,” she said, dropping the Southern accent for him, since he was actually a Southerner. “Thanks so much. I’m sure he’s probably harmless but he was just so insistent he knew me. I admit, it was making me a little nervous.”

  “And you’re absolutely, positively certain he had it wrong?” the man said, smiling at her teasingly. “You didn’t know him, ma’am? Maybe you just forgot you disappointed him with a no, after he asked you out for dinner or a drink?”

  Hearing the faint flirtation in his voice, she laughed, giving him her most charming smile.

  “I’m pretty sure,” she grinned, using an openly flirtatious voice.

  “Maybe he just wishes he knew you, ma’am.”

  Lia grinned wider, looking over the tall, blond captain with the dark blue eyes.

  “Maybe you do?” she said, quirking an eyebrow.

  The captain flushed a little that time and laughed with her, right before he gave her a small wave and began to move off, following the stewardess and the man with the green eyes as he headed in the direction of the cockpit.

  Maybe she could get off with him, she thought, watching the tall captain with the nice butt walking back towards the front of the plane.

  That might keep green-eyes off her back, and it might discourage him from coming after her a second time. Like most men, he’d backed down pretty fast once he saw another male, and one in a position of authority.

  If she walked off the plane with Captain Blue Eyes, her bizarre stalker might just leave her alone. Hopefully, he’d decide going after her was too much trouble, and write off the ring, or remember it was insured.

  Then again, maybe he’d only played nice because the plane was still on the ground, and too close to the airport. Maybe he’d come after her again after the plane took off, and maybe he wouldn’t care so much that time if he got threatened by airline employees.

  Maybe her best bet would be to pretend to go for her connecting flight, and instead get off in Bangkok after she went through customs. She could simply “miss” the flight to L.A., hop a second flight to Chiang Mai, or Singapore, or Manila, or Kuala Lumpur.

  Or she could disappear in Bangkok itself for a few days.

  Lia knew people in Thailand.

  She might even be able to unload the ring there, keep Fonzo’s cut, and do the deal herself, face-to-face.

  Thais liked gold.

  They particularly liked old gold, gold with some symbolic or cultural meaning, even if it wasn’t theirs. More to the point, Thais knew how to sell gold, especially to wealthy Chinese. Thousands of Chinese shopped in Thai markets and malls as they passed through Bangkok on their way to island vacations, or trips up north to ride elephants in Chiang Mai.

  Thinking about this, frowning a little as she settled back into her seat, Lia decided she would get off in Thailand.

  The sooner she unloaded this freak’s stuff, the better.

  3

  The One Ring

  L ia didn’t take the Valerian root to sleep.

  Or the Melatonin.

  She figured, as disappointing and annoying as it was, with that nut following her onto the plane, she’d better keep her wits about her.

  She had all three seats to herself, though, so it was a bummer.

  She ended up with an old woman in the seat behind her, a family of Chinese people to the left of her, taking up the entire middle section of her row, and a South African couple in front of her.

  After scoping out her immediate environment in full, making sure no one was paying any attention to her, Lia pulled her small laptop out of her leather satchel and signed into the plane’s wifi.

  Despite her decision to lose the weirdo in first class during her layover in Bangkok, Lia thought it couldn’t hurt to get a second opinion on the ring. Pulling the object in question carefully out of a hidden pocket in her long, green leather coat, she discreetly took a photo of it with her laptop camera.

  Disappearing the ring back into the hidden compartment in her jacket, she sent the photo to Fonzo, just to see if he had an opinion as to what it might be worth.

  If he decided the ring was worth holding onto, or if he gave her valuable information on where it came from, she’d cut him in some, after she unloaded it in Bangkok.

  Fonzo could be cool like that.

  He was loyal to Gregor… bizarrely so, in Lia’s mind… but Fonzo wasn’t wholly adverse to helping her out on the side, fencing objects d’art and finding clients for deals that didn’t necessarily have anything directly to do with the Syndicate or Gregor.

  Anyway, Lia felt no guilt.

  The ring was hers.

  She’d done the job Gregor sent her to do in Nepal. He would get his stupid intel, as soon as she handed the flash drive over to Fonzo in L.A. Anything else she’d done while she was in Asia was none of Gregor or the Syndicate’s damned business.

  Fonzo would get that.

  Despite his loyalty to Gregor, Fonzo was aware of, and sympathetic to Lia’s situation.

  He generally helped her out when he could, as long as it wasn’t going directly against his bosses or Gregor, or might cause the Syndicate itself harm.

  Besides, if the ring turned out to be worthless, maybe she’d give it back to the guy, just to get him off her ass. That would allow her to return to California, and, more importantly, keep Lia’s new stalker from learning anything specific about her or who she worked for.

  That would keep her out of hot water with Gregor, too.

  Three waving dots showed up in the corner of her text screen a few minutes after she sent the photo and her query to Fonzo.

  Then Fonzo’s words popped up below hers.

  I’ve seen this, he wrote. Just this morning. I swear this exact ring was in one of the alerts that got sent around.

  Lia frowned, typing. No shit? Seriously?

  Yep, he wrote. Weird, right? I mean, what are the odds?

  You’re sure it’s this one? This exact ring?

  Pretty sure. Looked a hell of a lot like this. You said you just lifted if off a guy in Nepal? What did he look like?

  Lia wrote back, describing the green-eyed man as best she could, down to his black and gold tattoos, his open shirt and leather coat, the odd, horned, silver pendant he wore around his neck, the long black and red hair.

  The way he’d followed her onto the plane.

  He sounds handsome, chica, Fonzo wrote back teasingly. Is he handsome? Did he follow you on the plane, looking for love? You got the hots for your crazy ring-bearer?

  Lia frowned, remembering that riveting gaz
e.

  He’s not ugly, she admitted in her next text. He’s… unusual-looking. Not someone who blends in. But his hotness isn’t going to keep him from beating me up and taking the ring I stole, Fonzo. So maybe focus, okay?

  Her partner sent a string of laugh emojis.

  Immediately afterwards, he began to type.

  Okay. Let me look into it. I’m going to contact the buyer. Definitely don’t give the ring to that guy, though, not until you hear back. If it’s the merchandise in the alert, the price tag on this one is high. Do what you have to for now, but lose the hot weirdo with the freaky eyes if you can.

  Lia glanced up and down the aisle, muttering, “Little tough on a plane, Fonzo.”

  She didn’t write that part.

  Instead she waited, looking between their dormant text window and the aisle of the plane, with occasional glances out the oval view port to the clouds and blue sky.

  A few minutes after that, Fonzo wrote her again.

  Definitely the same ring. I got the client to send me a few more photos and they’re a definite match. You hit the jackpot, sweetie! I mean, what are the odds you’d pick up something like THAT in a random grab? In NEPAL of all places? The guy looking for it is based in San Francisco, and he sounds super motivated, chica. He’s ready to fly to L.A., with money to spend. Can you bring it to me? Send me your flight number and I’ll be there when you land.

  Lia cursed under her breath.

  If the price tag was as big as Fonzo was saying, there was no way she’d be able to keep Gregor out of this. He’d want his cut. She’d probably end up with less than if she sold it on her own in Bangkok.

  Thinking, she wrote him back.

  This jackass will probably follow me to Los Angeles, you know. He seems as obsessed with the ring as your guy in S.F.

  There was a bare pause, then Fonzo wrote her again.

  The buyer claims he knows him. Describes him pretty much exactly the way you did. If it makes you feel any better, sounds like your guy might have stolen it.