A Warrior's Desire. Pamela Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ Yes, indeed, he loved a challenge.

      “I’ll get the arrows,” she said.

      His gaze followed her, watching her slender hips as she ran lightly across the roof. Reluctantly he tore his gaze away from her and focused on the target. A competitor by nature, and feeling a strange desire to impress, he was determined to make a good showing. As good as humanly possible.

      Humanly possible, indeed.

      Tarrys met him with the arrows and handed him one, not quite meeting his gaze. Charlie took a deep breath, nocked the arrow and drew the bow, then aimed and released. And watched the arrow land at the edge of the middle circle. Not bad, but …

      “You’re not holding it right,” Tarrys said softly beside him.

      He forced his pride down and met her gaze, seeing no smugness in her expression. “Show me.”

      She hesitated a moment, then closed the distance between them. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder as she pushed up the sleeves of her sweater, revealing delicate wrists and a thin, rustic wood bracelet.

      “You’re wearing holly,” he said, surprised. Holly was the only thing known to protect humans from Esri enchantment. “I didn’t know it worked on Marceils.”

      “I’m not sure it does,” she admitted. “Larsen asked me to wear it anyway, just in case.”

      “Good idea.”

      Her scent teased his nostrils, sweet and crisp like some kind of exotic, forbidden fruit. But it was the touch of her slender fingers as she adjusted his grip that sent desire flaring sun-bright inside him and blood surging between his legs.

      Whoa. This was the little eaglet. The Sitheen’s not-quite-human mascot. But his hormones couldn’t have cared less.

      Maybe Harrison was right. Maybe he should take her with him. She was a far better archer than he could ever hope to be. And he was surprisingly attracted to her, which might be kind of fun, if the feeling was mutual. But, no, he needed to move fast and quick and didn’t need to be responsible for anyone, especially a tiny slip of a woman. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to go back there. She was safe here, and Myrtle relied on her.

      Tarrys shifted her hands, bringing the inside of her wrist to rest on the back of his hand. He could feel her pulse racing like a raw recruit’s before his first dive.

      Hot damn.

      But as his gaze dipped to her mouth, he noted the tenseness of her lips and suddenly wondered if her pulse raced from fear rather than attraction. The thought slammed into him hard. Of course it was fear. She’d been Baleris’s slave, the slave of a rapist and murderer. Being this close to him … to any man … probably terrified her.

      Hell.

      “Now sight your target, imagine the flight of the arrow, and aim into it as you release.” Her soft words flowed over him, echoing the thread of tension he’d felt in her, confirming his fears.

      A pro at compartmentalizing, he forced himself to concentrate on the weapon and target. He pulled back the string and released the arrow. Just shy of a bull’s-eye. Excellent.

      “Good,” Tarrys said, a smile in her voice. He could feel her gaze on him and, while he still felt her tension, she hadn’t moved away.

      With a grin, he turned to her and found her watching him with a smile, and more, in her eyes. Attraction. So he wasn’t wrong about that. But he wasn’t entirely sure he was wrong about the fear either.

      He resisted the temptation to probe deeper and explore this attraction a bit. Rule number one in the Charlie Rand Book of Dating clearly read, Never date a woman you can’t escape. Tarrys lived with a Sitheen. When the relationship was over, there would be no getting away from her. And he owed her too much for her help with Baleris to do that.

      There was something about Tarrys that was too innocent, too vulnerable for a casual affair and he didn’t do anything deeper. No. Mutual attraction or not, this woman was a complication with a capital C. Good for a bit of flirtation and nothing more. The kind of woman no sane man went near unless he couldn’t help himself. Unless he’d foolishly fallen head over heels in love.

      And if there was one solid, immutable fact in life, it was this: Charlie Rand didn’t do love.

       Chapter 2

      “Damn, Rand. You look like an Esri.”

      Jack Hallihan shook Charlie’s hand as Jack and his wife, Larsen, joined Charlie a few minutes before midnight in front of the Dupont Circle Fountain. The cop and his wife, two of the small band of Sitheen, each carried a flamethrower, ready to defend the world against the Esri invaders when the gate opened in a few minutes.

      “A little bigger than the last time I saw you, aren’t you?” Larsen, an attractive blonde, patted Charlie’s chest. “And lumpier. What in the world are you wearing under that outfit?”

      Charlie grinned. The night was clear and brisk, a cold wind stinging his cheeks. He was dressed in the Esrian Royal Guard’s uniform of silver tunic, black silk pants and black cloak. To the naked eye, he hoped to pass for an Esri. But beneath the costume, he was armed.

      “Vest, T-shirt, and my gear.” Everything from a first-aid kit to C-4 charges in case he needed to blow something open to reach the princess.

      “You ready for this?” Jack asked.

      Charlie shook his head. “Hell if I know.” His breath fogged, glowing in the illumination from one of the streetlights. “How do you prepare for the twilight zone?”

      He’d feel a hell of a lot better about this op if he could bring his team with him. Most of them were, like him, ex-SEALs. All had extensive special ops training. But he was the only one who had the trace of Esrian blood that made him immune to Esri enchantment. He’d seen Baleris turn the D.C. cops into his own personal army. The thought of an Esri turning his own men against him sent chills all the way to his toes.

      Larsen gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Be careful, Charlie. We need you back.”

      “I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t sure if he said the words to convince her or himself. “Where’s Tarrys? I thought you were bringing her.”

      Larsen glanced to his right. “She stopped to talk to Harrison.”

      Charlie turned and saw Tarrys heading toward them. Not the attractive petite who’d stirred his hormones this afternoon, but once more the Marceil slave, complete with gray sacklike slave gown, two bows slung over one shoulder and a pair of quivers on her back.

      What the hell?

      A growl of frustration rumbled in his throat. Harrison was behind this. His brother was the most controlling son of a bitch on the planet.

      And Tarrys was playing his game. He stalked toward her. “I already told you, you’re not coming with me,” he snapped.

      Tarrys stopped short, her expression filling with a wariness that bordered on fear.

      Charlie СКАЧАТЬ