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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.