“My mouth,” she said dryly, rolling her eyes. Eyes bright with arousal. She wiggled against his shaft, rubbing him perfectly, just the way he liked. “Tell me why.”
“No. I’ll show you why.” He moved one of his hands to her nape and urged her the rest of the way forward. Their lips met, opened, and their tongues thrust together. She tasted like mint and cherry, and he decided that was his new favorite flavor.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, her claws digging into his scalp. Desire pumped through his veins, pure, undiluted, blinding him to everything else. To the people around them, the circumstances, the consequences. He held fire in his arms and he desperately wanted to be burned.
And he wanted to burn her. Burn his essence into every part of her, reshaping her into his woman. Everyone who looked at her, neared her, would know who she belonged to.
Mine, she’s mine. Damn, she excited him. Their tongues dueled, even that a battle. Such a delicious battle. He dominated, claiming her mouth as his territory. He felt her nipples harden against his chest and wanted to tweak them. Wanted his fingers between her legs, deep inside her, thrusting over and over again.
“Strider,” she rasped.
“Baby doll.”
“Don’t stop.”
Won, Defeat said on a sigh, shooting more of that pleasure through him and driving his need even higher.
Strider walked her forward, every jarring step rubbing her more firmly against him. When he reached the nearest table, he leaned down, swiped his arm across the beer bottles littering the surface and distantly heard them shatter on the floor. He pressed Kaia against the wood.
He wanted to do things to her. Bad things. No, good things, he told himself. He had to do good things to her. Had to be her best. But maybe he’d push her for a few of those bad things, make her take everything he had to give, make her beg, need him, crave him like a drug.
“Woohoo! Yeah, baby, yeah!” Anya, the minor goddess of Anarchy, called, her voice dragging him kicking and screaming from the fog of desire. “Rip his clothes off, Kaia. Show us what he’s got!”
Strider straightened with a snarl, his gaze scanning, his mind buzzing. Destroy the crowd, return his mouth to Kaia’s. As he realized every single person in the bar was watching them, the heat inside him cooled. Some were watching with grins, some with exasperation, some—namely the humans—with lust.
The heat returned, but for an entirely different reason. Fury, so much fury, overshadowed his own lust. He didn’t like anyone seeing Kaia like this, lost and needy, eager for him. He couldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t allow it.
He grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet, smoothing her dress for her. His motions were stiff, jerky. How could he have forgotten their audience, even for a second? Someone could have attacked him. Defeated him. How could he have forgotten what would happen to him if he failed to be Kaia’s best? Her best kiss. Her best lay. He’d be ruined, too weak to be effective and no use to her during the coming confrontations.
Although…he wasn’t on his knees, overcome by pain, so he’d clearly been her best kiss. Again. The knowledge puffed his chest with pride. Of course he’d been the best, and—ego check.
He had better things to do than praise his own magnificence. Like let the guys train her for the next battle the way they’d promised to do, and then haul her back to the motel.
Won, won, won, Defeat said on a sigh, more of that pleasure consuming him.
I never doubted it. He scowled at his friends. “Enough playing around,” he snapped, then returned his attention to Kaia. “Get the boys and go out back. Do what I brought you here to do.”
Thick red lashes lifted, a curtain rising over a screen of surprise. “You’re not coming with me?”
“No.” He gave her a little push. “Now go.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TO STRIDER’S CONSTERNATION, they never made it outside.
As his friends downed their drinks in a hurry—no drop left behind and all that—the front doors swung open and a black-haired beauty strutted into the bar. Lavender eyes searched the bar…and landed on Kaia. Red lips curled into a satisfied grin.
Strider stiffened. Shit. Wasn’t that just his luck. Sabin’s mission was now superfluous, which meant there’d be no hunting, no stealing tonight. The Eagleshields had landed.
Kaia cursed under her breath. “Just my luck. Juliette the Nag You Until You Kill Yourself Eradicator is here.”
The woman’s consort wasn’t far behind. Strider hadn’t seen him at Tag, had just assumed the guy was off somewhere guarding the Paring Rod, and now he experienced a beat of surprise as the bastard stepped into the bar, expression smug and superior, as if he owned all he surveyed. There was no sign of the artifact. What did he have? Multiple, heavily armed Harpies flanking him. His guards?
During orientation, the hulking giant had sported chains. Now Strider noticed that he sported tattoos. Links had been etched into the flesh around his neck and wrists. Most likely, if he removed his boots, Strider would see ink around his ankles, too.
The tattoos looked red, swollen and fresh, and Strider would have bet his left nut they’d been added only this morning.
Why keep so dangerous a guy around, huh? Kaia had said Harpies could forgive their consorts for almost anything, but come on. The man had murdered other Harpies. Surely that was worse than, say, stealing a priceless artifact from an enemy.
Within seconds, Strider’s friends had lined up beside him, forming a wall of menace. They had no idea what was going on—except, maybe, for Amun—but they knew him well. Knew when he was gearing up to fight. Hell, they knew an enemy when they spotted one.
Win!
No combative words had yet been spoken, but even Defeat had sensed the threat. Consider it done. With pleasure.
The man—or whatever he was—caught sight of Kaia. Obsidian eyes swirled hypnotically. He was bare-chested, and his pectorals jumped. Because he was imagining Kaia’s hands on him? Strider tensed. Mine. And I don’t share. Ever.
“Let’s kidnap Juliette’s followers and threaten to release them if she doesn’t do what we want,” Kaia whispered to him.
“Wait. What? Threaten to release them?”
“They’re so horrible, getting them back would be the punishment.”
He fought a grin.
“Now, let’s zip this convo up and let momma work.” She cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders. “Well, well,” Kaia said, casual yet loud enough to be heard by one and all this time. “Is it my birthday already?”
“No,” Juliette said. “It’s mine.”
Speaking of, “When is your birthday?” Strider asked Kaia. His friends would assume he wanted to know now of all times simply to irritate the newcomers, to show them just how little they mattered. And that was partly true. But Strider found he really, really wanted to know anyway. For himself.
Wide silver-gold eyes swung to him. “You don’t know?”
“No.”
Pouting, she twirled a strand of her hair. “How can you not know?”
“Do you know mine?” he asked.
“Of course I do. It’s the day you met me.”
As good a day as any. “No, it’s not, because that was a trick question, baby doll. I don’t actually have a birthday. I was created fully formed, not born.” True story.
“You can be such a moron.” She threw up her arms, exasperated. “Don’t argue with me about this kind of thing. I’ll always be right. Seriously. You were dead until you met me and we both know it. Which means I brought you to life. So, happy belated birthday.”
Amun laughed, which was a shock. The serious warrior never laughed. Anya nodded as if she’d never heard a more solid argument and Gideon snickered behind his hand. Scarlet slapped him in the back of the head.
“You’re right,” Strider said, wanting to laugh himself. “So when’s yours?”