He didn’t respond, just smiled and folded his muscled arms over his chest. She sighed, then tensed when he swung his feet up onto the chair next to her.
Her breath caught in her throat. She could almost feel the heat of his thighs close to hers. Her leg tingled, her skin prickling. Something low in her stomach tightened, and it reminded her that this was one of the reasons she wanted to be back on earth.
Fates, her nerves were on edge, and he wasn’t helping matters. She’d spent nearly every day of the last two millennia in Otherworld—the dullest, loneliest place in all of creation. As much as she loved the hustle and bustle of the Mytheans and mortals on earth, there was way too much of it in this bar. Her senses were on overdrive, and the air fairly buzzed with emotion from the dozens of volatile Mytheans carousing around her.
She swallowed hard and met his eyes. His smile reappeared, as if he knew what was going on inside her head. Inside her body.
“I need some air.” She jumped to her feet. “Come on.”
As soon as he stood, she spun and headed for the front door of the bar, hoping it would be quieter than the fighting ring out back. She had to cool down or things were going to get out of control.
CHAPTER TWO
Cam kept close behind Andrasta as they walked through the crowded bar, glaring at a couple of lobisomems who leered at her. Satisfaction kicked up the corner of his mouth when they turned and slunk away. Damn dogs.
But as soon as he looked at Andrasta’s back, he felt the grin slide from his face. His heart thudded too hard, an unfamiliar pounding against his ribs. Damn it. It was a sensation he hadn’t recognized when he’d first met her two thousand years ago. He’d been cold and emotionless, as a Celtic god should be. Until he’d seen her.
He tried to keep his eyes on the back of her head and off the curve of her waist and hips, which rolled with an unusual kind of grace despite the bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back.
She wasn’t dressed well for the sweltering heat of the jungle. Though her leather breastplate left her strong shoulders and arms bare, the raw leather pants that molded to her enticingly curved ass would be stifling. He tried to keep his eyes off that as well. He hadn’t seen her in millennia, and he sure as hell had never seen her in clothes like this.
They reached the rickety door and he followed her out into the sticky heat, sucking in air so humid he nearly drowned. The lonely bar sat in the middle of nowhere, the jungle pressed against its back. A small village inhabited by Mytheans was located a bit deeper in the jungle. Magic hid both from mortal eyes.
Once the door swung closed, the light dropped to almost nothing, the only illumination provided by a sliver of moon hanging over the edge of the jungle canopy. Monkeys and insects screeched in the night, vying to be the loudest in the forest.
Cam was on Andrasta in seconds, gripping her firm biceps and swinging her around to press her against the wall of the bar. She gasped, and he had to stifle his own. Electricity shot up his arms where he touched her, a stronger version of what he’d felt when he’d first looked up and seen her standing across from him.
Damn it. It pissed him the fuck off.
“You have one more chance.” He bit out the words through clenched teeth. “How did you find me?”
He’d been wearing a cloaking charm for the last two thousand years, ever since he’d left Otherworld; it should have kept him hidden from her eyes and those of the other gods. It was a huge problem if the gods could find him. The kind of problem that would end up with him dead.
“I don’t know.” She wriggled against him. She was strong, but her struggles only pushed them together, her curves and muscles straining against him. Something dark within him surged, and he nearly groaned at the contact.
Fuck. He hadn’t felt anything this powerful since he’d spent that time with her two thousand years ago. Hell, he’d forgotten it was possible to feel something so strongly.
“Settle down,” he muttered, trying to ignore the erection hardening against the front of his pants. If she could find him, then the other gods could. And if she didn’t stop her damn struggling, he’d get distracted and he’d run out of time—time he desperately needed to figure out what the hell was going on and then to get out of here.
“Do the other gods know I survived?” he asked.
Though she was cloaked in shadows, he caught glimpses of her full lips and the shine of her honey-colored hair. Focus.
“Yes.” Her green eyes widened and she stilled, seeming to realize he’d grown fully hard against her, his cock pressing achingly into the softness of her stomach.
What was it about her that did this to him? He was thousands of fucking years old, he should be able to control himself. She made the idea laughable. But damn, she smelled good. Like the forest: cedar and pine and green leaves. Strange, and not particularly feminine. But so like her that he couldn’t get enough of it. It threatened to drag his mind back into the past, to when they’d first met. He resisted inhaling too deeply, deciding it was better to breathe through his mouth instead. Better yet, he released her and stepped back, inhaling deeply of the jungle air to try to clear his head.
“Do they know where I am?” Though he could take on a few of the gods at a time, if they all rose up against him, he was fucked. While the rules that kept Otherworld functioning had prohibited them from killing him when he was a fellow god, as a demigod he was fair game.
“Not yet, but if you don’t help me, I’ll see to it that they do.”
“Threatening me, are you? We’ll see about that. How did you find me?”
“I had a vision of you. Here, with a bow.” She nodded to the bar. “Smaller than the one you once used.”
“Fuck.” He never should have picked up the bow yesterday, but it had been so long since he’d held one that he couldn’t resist. He hadn’t even shot the fucking thing, but his lapse in judgment had been enough. One of the conditions of his cloaking charm was that he stay away from the things that were most closely associated with his time as a god. He’d learned the tip from a witch—not the one who’d given him the charm, gods damn her—and thank fuck he had. Apparently it had been excellent advice, as just picking up a bow had put him on their radar again.
Sloppy. He was getting sloppy after so many years on earth.