Free A Spartan's Kiss by Billi Jean

her hands. “Well, it’s a bit boring, I’m sure. And complicated.” Had he been watching her finger her knife hilt? She wasn’t feeling the urge to cut, but she also didn’t like him staring.
    He met her gaze, and his hawk-like, dark eyebrows drew down over his Roman nose. Or Greek nose? Whoever the hell came up with these things should have used Aeros for the model for brooding, handsome noblemen. He just looked noble, loyal and all the things she’d heard about heroes, but in the flesh. His dark eyes weren’t really black. They had lighter flecks, like a dash of cinnamon on top of a coffee.
    “Explain it anyway. We’re fairly quick.”
    And, yeah, another check for him being her doom, ‘cause the chalkboard feeling was back in full force. Even under his play for humour—“we’re fairly quick”—she felt the need to obey. She looked away, not willing to share the conflict he created.
    “Well, I will scry for the godhead. I need an image of what I seek, or name, and then, once I have either, I can then find what’s hidden, lost, you know…missing. But I can only find it by the vibrations of distress around the trap.”
    “So a witch has it? And has laid traps?” Narc broke in, his lighter, amber eyes interested.
    “Not necessarily. A human can lay traps. Lies and such are traps. I once found a missing child…” Breaking off, she looked down at her hands. She’d never shared with another the help she’d provided a small family of humans. They’d lost their daughter. A monster had taken the girl, a human monster, but a monster all the same.
    “You found a human child?” Aeros sounded as though she’d broken some immortal law.
    Wasn’t he once human? Geesh.
    “Yep, and I can find the godhead the same way. More, the godhead doesn’t belong where it is.” Actually, it hadn’t belonged with Ares either, but that was another matter. One she would be investigating now that Trouble wasn’t on her back to ignore her gut and move her ass. The Raven Clan had been willing to pay big time, so in the heat of the moment, Tabithia had been okay with stealing something from under Ares’ nose. Kind of cool, really, but now? She wasn’t so sure. The godhead had looked more like a beaten-up old goblet than something of real worth. But man, oh man, the power in that cup. Astoundingly, but obviously, it held way too much power for that clan of creepy warlocks, since the cup was now in the Amazon, not downtown Dublin.
    “So because the godhead belongs to Ares, you will find it because it doesn’t belong to the jungle?” Galen said, apparently struggling to understand her super-cool powers.
    “Sorta.”
    “Did you bring it here, to the Amazon?” Ajax asked. He’d been the quietest of the boys since the journey. He also had a thing for weapons. She’d noticed he’d sharpened more than a few blades, taken apart no less than six guns then put them back together, and was now sharpening his already deadly-looking machete. She kinda liked him best.
    “Not sure why it ended up here, but the power coming off the thing will create a kind of tone I can sense, almost hear. Traps do that. So does power.”
    “So you can sense power, traps and lies?” Aeros asked.
    Aeros really needed to stop talking. She didn’t feel compelled to answer, though, so that was good news. So only orders worked. That was somewhat reassuring. She wasn’t his to order about anyway, so he shouldn’t. But he didn’t appear to understand that.
    She cleared her throat and examined her OPI Lincoln Park After Midnight nail polish. The black shimmered under the bright light flooding through her window. Aeros shifted, reminding her she’d not answered his hunt for answers.
    “Not exactly. But I can sense power. Most immortals can.” The men were all watching her now, even Ajax who’d been pretending to sharpen the same machete for the last half an hour. The thing could have sliced through a rhino at this point. “And this little