by Rose O'Brien
Good to know. At least he wasn’t a threat to Jen.
Jaan ushered them to his office door.
“Here I am rambling on when you must be tired. I’ll set you up in one of the guest suites. And then I’ll strongly suggest that the few personnel that have seen you should forget all about that.”
Theron nodded and thanked his friend.
“We’re square for Athens. More than square.”
“Thank you, my friend, but my greatest interest right now is seeing you safe for the night and on your way. The sooner she is behind the walls of your mage fortress, the better.”
Theron couldn’t agree more.
Before he knew it, a junior officer had swept them down an ornate hallway and shut them in a suite that wouldn’t look out of place at Caesar's Palace. It was all white marble, gold fixtures and colorful silks.
There was a sofa along one wall done in gold brocade. A large mahogany wardrobe loomed in the corner. Another corner featured what Theron assumed was a wet bar. And against the far wall was a raised platform that sported a gigantic canopy bed. The canopy was missing, and the sheets were a functional cotton. Apparently, all of the luxury items hadn’t made it through the war.
The problem was there was just the one bed.
He eyed the gaudy gold couch and sighed.
“You take the bed. I’ll take the sofa,” he told Jen.
He did a quick survey of the room and the attached bathroom, noting that the door to the hall was the only entrance and exit. The room had a balcony that overlooked a sunken courtyard that had probably once featured a beautiful garden and fruit trees. The trees were leafless and the beds were full of blackened stalks. The drop was too far to make it a likely escape route. No need to put the cuffs on the seer.
It was late in the winter day, and the sunlight was fading fast. He had maybe an hour left and hoped it would be enough.
Turning his back on Jen, who was standing near the locked entrance, he strode out on the balcony and stripped his shirt off. Next was the gun belt. As he turned to place it strategically beside him, he cast a glance over his bare shoulder. She was watching him.
Probably contemplating where to stick the knife.
Straightening, he turned his back to her again and undid his pants with a deliberate slowness. If she wanted to watch, he’d give her a show.
The material slid down his legs, and he stepped out, leaving him standing in a pair of black jockey shorts. HIs pulse was coming just a little faster. He smiled to himself. He’d been in some pretty nasty firefights over the years and that cardiac muscle had been steady as a metronome. But this wasn’t about fear and adrenaline.
He was dying to know if Jen was still watching him with those gorgeous dark eyes of hers, but he didn’t want to break the crystalline tension of the moment. One word, one look could shatter it.
If he listened carefully, he could hear the sound of her breathing behind him, soft and even, not moving around the room.
He stretched his body out on the cold tiles of the balcony, his right side toward the balcony railing, his left side toward the open door to their room. He was banking on a threat coming from outside the room and not from within. The guns lay within easy reach. He closed his eyes as the sun’s rays fell across his skin. The stores of energy, his internal fire, surged.
Thirty heartbeats passed before he heard her ask, “What are you doing?”
The woman’s curiosity never failed to get the better of her. She was still pissed as hell at him for taking her into protective custody and would probably love nothing more than to never speak a word to him on this trip, but she couldn’t resist asking him questions.
“Recharging,” he said, not opening his eyes.
His voice sounded even and detached. Yay him.
“Like a battery?”
“Yeah. All mages have to do it. Air mages just go stand out in the wind. Water mages go for a swim. Earth mages go walk on the ground. Fire mages lie in the sun. We got the shaft if you ask me. Our recharge is time sensitive.”
His eyes were still closed and she was silent for a moment.
“What happens if you don’t recharge? ‘ Should he tell her? It was one of his few fundamental weaknesses. And it wasn’t just his weakness. All mages needed to recharge. That wasn’t known outside the shadow races.
But if she was going to stop fighting him, she had to start trusting him. And he had to earn that trust by offering it to her first.
“I’ll die,” he said. “A mage’s powers are fueled by the energy in our bodies. I have a lot, but if it gets drained completely, my heart will stop.”
Turning his head slightly, he opened his eyes and met her gaze. She’d been staring at him.
Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed because he’d caught her looking. Fighting a smile, he looked deep into those dark depths, holding her there for one breath, two. Like a cable snapping, she turned away and grabbed her bag. Practically running for the adjoining bathroom, she tossed words over her shoulder. “I’m going to take a bath!”
At the sound of the slamming door, Theron settled himself again, closed his eyes and let that smile spread over his face.
***
Jen leaned back against the closed bathroom door and pressed her palms to her heated cheeks.
She mentally cursed and kicked herself for her reaction to getting caught looking at Theron.
She’d blushed like a virgin, stammered and stumbled her way into the bathroom. That was so not her. She hadn’t reacted that way to guy since—her mental brakes slammed into place for a moment—oh, god, since Trevor.
Nope. No way. She did not like him. Sure, he was a traditionally attractive man. He had big shoulders, narrow hips, a tight ass, and more muscles than anyone really needed. He moved with the grace of a well-trained fighter and had an easy going confidence and sense of humor that urged her to relax around him. Add in that hair, with its shifting red, gold, and platinum strands that kept falling artfully over his brow, the devastating indigo eyes framed by those long bronze lashes, and you had a package that was designed to push female buttons.
Her body had reacted to the sight of him taking his clothes off, not her brain. She’d been horrified by the warmth that had spread through her lower body and the clenching she’d felt between her legs.
He was practically a walking cliché. And he was so not her type. At all.
She preferred dark-haired men, not too tall, with slender builds that looked good in designer suits. Trevor invaded her thoughts again. That had been him to a T. He’d checked all of her boxes. The perfect boyfriend that had fit into her perfect life.
Jen shoved thoughts of her ex in the corner of her brain where she kept everything she hated. He was shelved right next to her former bosses, LA traffic, and little yippy purse dogs. When she realized that she was scowling, she relaxed and looked around the bathroom.
It was more of the white marble that seemed to pervade the former pleasure resort. The walls were done in hand-painted tiles. A double vanity marble sink was along one wall. The toilet was tucked into a little closet. And a giant sunken pool, complete with jets, dominated half the room.
A tiny levered window was set about eight feet off the floor. No way to reach it, and even if she could, she’d never fit through it. Disappointment had her frowning for a moment, but she shook it off. She’d find some other way, a better way to get out of this mess.
Not seeing a shower anywhere, she resigned herself to a bath. Under the sink, she found soaps, shampoos, oils and bath salts. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo and bar of soap that smelled like jasmine. The old her, five-years-ago Jen, would have loaded up on the salts and oils. Taking long baths had once been like a hobby for her. She realized that she hadn’t taken an actual bath since she left the States. There were months since she’d left when she’d been lucky to find a shower.
Jen pulled off her boots and socks and lowered her feet into the tub, watching as the hot water slowly rose to cover them.
The khakis she folded up on the edge of the tub, her shirt and underwear joining them.
Slipping into the tub, she waited until the water was up to her neck before she shut it off. She sat in the still and humid silence, turning over escape plans in her mind, running contingencies and rejecting them all.
Theron seemed like a good enough guy. She believed him that he wouldn’t hurt her and that he genuinely wanted to get her to safety. It was the people he worked for that were the unknown quantity. He was clearly some kind of soldier or operative, following orders. When they got to this Citadel he mentioned, she was afraid she would lose all control over her future. They could lock her up under the guise of protective custody because she was somehow of strategic importance thanks to her powers.
If this Mage Corps was full of people with powers like his, she didn’t stand a chance of resisting. And apparently they were just one segment of a shadow government full of vampires, shapeshifters, elves, and fairies. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around that one, but she knew she didn’t want anything to do with it.
Her life was her work and her work was her life. There were stories on the refugee crisis that needed reporting. Nothing and no one was going to keep her from that.
Leaning over the edge of the tub, she dug in her messenger bag and pulled out her steel flask. She took a long pull of Johnny Walker Blue Label she always kept in the thing and sighed at the sting and the spreading warmth.
So, how to ditch Theron before she ended up in the hands of fairy tale monsters for the rest of her life?
The guy was careful and those eyes didn’t miss a thing. He was too strong for her to overpower, even with the fighting techniques she’d picked up over the past five years of living in warzones. The memory of her near-collapse in Jaan’s office came back to her. He’d moved so fast, faster than anyone she’d ever seen. And he’d supported her like she’d weighed nothing. The chest that had pressed against her back had felt like a brick wall.
If violence was not the answer and he was too vigilant for her to slip away, that left one option: subterfuge.
She had to lie to him, get him to lower his guard. When he was vulnerable, she could incapacitate him. As for the people after her, she might not be able to fight them, but she could run and she was damn good at hiding.
The best, most sure-fire way she knew to get a man to lower his guard was to fuck him senseless.
It wouldn’t exactly be a chore. The guy was hot. And it had been awhile for her. She took another long swallow from the flask and turned the idea over in her head. Turned out, it was an appealing one.
Under different circumstances, she would have really liked Theron. He was funny and a little charming.
As she laid her plan out in her head, her pulse began to pick up. Despite the cooling water, her skin felt warm. Was she actually turned on at the idea of seducing him?
But a seductress she was not. That much she knew about herself.
She’d taken a handful of men to bed over the years. Most she had known very well before she got physically involved with them. A couple had been virtual strangers. But she’d never made a move on a guy. They’d always come to her. She wasn’t exactly sure how to go about this.
She took another long swallow from the flask and felt her thoughts go a little fuzzy around the edges.
Guys responded to physical stuff. They were also visual creatures. Naked things appealed to them. Boobs were pretty high up on their lists, generally. She could work with that.
Stepping from the now cool water, she saw through the tiny window that the sun had set. It was now or never.
Blotting her wet hair with one of the Egyptian cotton towels that were neatly folded on the edge of the bath, she left the strands a little wet, their long black lengths falling over her shoulders.
She wrapped the towel around her, covering her breasts and tucking the end between them to secure it. Checking herself in the mirror, she looked as good as she was going to get. For a moment, she missed the makeup she used to wear, the pretty dresses, the spike heels, the push-up bras. Those things had been her armor. But they were long gone now, lost remnants of her old life.
Her clean clothes had been left in the SUV, so it was totally legit for her to be walking around the room in a towel, she told herself. Taking one more long pull from her flask before tucking it back in her bag, she realized she’d almost drained it. Hopefully, the liquid courage would do its thing.
Opening the bathroom door, she peeked out, steam escaping around her. Theron was leaning over the railing of the balcony, his back to her. He’d put his pants back on, but his shirt was off. A black leather cord hung around his neck, a large black claw, like a panther’s, hung suspended from it, resting in the valley between his pectoral muscles. The last rays of the setting sun touched his golden tan skin, the muscles in his back highlighted by shadow.
Taking a deep breath, Jen felt her pulse spike. You can do this.
On bare feet, she padded toward him. A Cosmo article she’d read as a teen popped into her head and she licked her lips and pinched her cheeks. It was supposed to make you more kissable. She felt like an idiot, but she needed all the help she could get at the moment.
She moved to stand beside him, her left arm brushing his right bicep. The thing was like granite.
He looked at her and his brows lowered in momentary confusion at her.
“Hey,” he said cautiously, his tone wary. He was giving her serious side-eye. “I can get your clothes from the SUV.” The words “you weirdo, what are you doing?” were left unspoken, but she could still hear them.
Crap. This was not going how she had expected. He was on edge, and that was the opposite of what she wanted.
She turned and let her cotton-covered breast brush his arm. Eyes widening a bit, he froze.
“I don’t need them right this second,” she said, keeping her voice low and trying to make it sound husky.
She stepped into him, sliding her hand along his waistband, her fingers dancing over his muscles until she flattened her palm against his lower back. Pressing her full length against him, she touched that square jaw with her other hand. He stiffened slightly. Afraid to meet his eyes, she rose on tiptoe, closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his.
His mouth was soft and warm and he smelled ever so slightly of sun-warmed cedars. His lips remained motionless, unresponsive to her kiss. Panicking, she slid her hand from his jaw to the nape of his neck, her fingers running through the short hair there. Still nothing.
She felt him pull away and opened her eyes to find him scowling at her, his face as dark as a storm cloud. He reached up and gently pulled her hand off his neck, his other hand pressing against her shoulder as he stepped back, disengaging from her.
“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice hard and suspicion narrowing his eyes.
“Ummmm…” was all she could get past the knot of panic in her throat.
He’d seen right through her clumsy attempt at seduction. And now he was pissed. Oh, shit. She’d messed up big time.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as she turned away and covered her mouth, embarrassment heating her cheeks. Jeez, that was a stupid move. What had made her think she could possibly lure him into bed?
There was a rustling noise behind her and she turned to see Theron had put his shirt back on and was pulling his boots on.
“I’m going to get some things out of the SUV. I’ll get your clothes.” His words were coming fast and clipped. Was he angry? Annoyed?
Before she could move, the handcuffs were closed around her wrist and the balcony railing. Rage surged through her. How did he always move so fast?
“Don’t go anywhere,” he snapped.
“No problem,” she threw back, sarcasm and anger dripping from her words as she rattled the handcuffs against the railing. The click of a lock engaging sounded just after the door closed behind him. He wasn’t taking any chances.
What seemed like a small eternity later, but was probably
only a few minutes, Theron came back in the room with a duffle over his shoulder and her bag of clothes. He tossed the bag at her feet and unlocked the cuffs, careful not to meet her eyes.
His posture was tense and he still sported a scowl. His silence was unnerving her.
Picking up her clothes, she walked slowly to the bathroom even though everything in her was urging her to scurry. She did not scurry. Ever.
Just as she turned to slam the bathroom door, she met his dark blue gaze from across the room and it was hard and sharp as flint.
***
Theron heard Jen come out of the bathroom about half an hour later, having taken her sweet time.
He was lying on the couch, his eyes closed, trying to calm his thoughts. Her bare feet made almost no noise as she moved past him to the bed. The only light in the room came from a lamp he’d left on beside the bed for her.
Anger and confusion roiled through his brain battling for supremacy and making his chest tight. Why had she done that?
She was trying to seduce you to get past your defenses and escape, a part of his brain chimed in. Talk about stating the obvious. Her attempt had been beyond clumsy. No one went from indignant and resentful to amorous that fast. Sure, she’d seen him in nothing but his skivvies, but even he didn’t have that kind of power over people.
It was the pure cynicism of her actions that left him so angry. He was risking his life to protect her and throwing out weeks of work and his original mission in order to get her to safety. And she’d thought she could use sex, use him that way, use her own body that way? Ugh, gross.
When she’d pressed her lips and her body against him, it had taken every ounce of his will and resolve not to kiss her back. His arms had ached to wrap themselves around her and pull her close. Her hands had felt so damn good against his bare skin, sending little electric shivers through him. The lingering hint of scotch on her lips was simultaneously intoxicating and a warning. It had snapped him back to reality. She’d had to drink to work up the courage to touch him.