A Warrior's Desire. Pamela Palmer
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“Tarrys?” Charlie called out, not wanting to startle her in the midst of firing a deadly weapon.
“Here.” Her voice was clear and sure, surprising him a little. He’d always thought of her as meek, but maybe that wasn’t fair considering he barely knew her. He’d been away from D.C. far more than he’d been here since Baleris found the gate. Though he tried to be in town for the full moon, other responsibilities demanded his time and attention. After his stint in the navy, he’d joined a civilian agency that did much the same kind of covert ops work without the political red tape. A couple weeks ago, he’d taken a leave of absence, finally devoting himself full-time to the Esri problem. If they didn’t get these gates sealed, the rest of the world’s troubles weren’t going to matter.
Charlie turned the corner and for a second thought he’d come upon a stranger until he registered the slight stature and supershort hair of the shapely woman pulling arrows out of a target hung from the brick. He pulled up, watching her with interest and no small amount of surprise.
The snug jeans fit her perfectly, hugging her slender hips and falling just to the tops of her bare feet. Feet sporting pretty pink toenails. His admiring gaze rose to take in the clingy purple turtleneck that clung to a surprisingly ripe pair of breasts.
An appreciative smile tugged at his mouth. He’d always thought of her as cute in an alien, otherworldly kind of way. Like a buddy’s violin-playing little sister or something. But there was nothing otherworldly about her today. No one would ever guess this woman wasn’t human.
Until she glanced at him, revealing the most vibrant pair of violet eyes he’d ever seen.
“You look good, eaglet. I like the clothes.”
Her gaze returned to the target as she pulled the last of the arrows. “Aunt Myrtle said I needed clothes that fit. I was fine with the others.” Aunt Myrtle, the elderly aunt of one of the Sitheen, was a Sitheen herself and a gifted healer. She’d taken Tarrys under her wing while Tarrys looked after her in return.
Apparently, Myrtle had decided it was time to update Tarrys’s wardrobe and replace the baggy T-shirts and sweatshirts she’d been wearing. He had to admit, the results were impressive.
“You liked those Redskins sweatshirts, huh?”
“They were soft.”
Her simple words reminded him that she wasn’t used to luxury. Hell, she’d been slave to one of the vilest creatures Charlie had ever encountered. Baleris. He couldn’t begin to imagine what her life had been like. She deserved a little luxury.
“It looks like Myrtle’s getting a start on your wardrobe. If there’s anything else you need, you let me know, okay?”
He flashed her a smile as she glanced at him, but while her lips lifted gently, no answering smile reached her eyes. He sensed a sadness in those eyes he didn’t remember seeing before, but he couldn’t honestly say he’d ever noticed her eyes before, other than their arresting color. Maybe she was always sad.
Or maybe her melancholy had to do with his impending trip into Esria. If anyone knew the dangers he’d face there, it was Tarrys.
“You’re not worrying about me, are you, eaglet? I’ll be fine.”
Her mouth compressed. “I’m concerned, yes. But I believe you’ll succeed anyway.”
He lifted a brow. “Is that a premonition talking? Any good news you want to share with me?”
A glimmer of a smile lit her eyes, and something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I don’t get premonitions.” She slipped the bow on her shoulder with a shrug. “I have no magic. But I’ve watched you and heard the others talk about you. They believe that if anyone can succeed in freeing Princess Ilaria, you will. I agree.”
He nodded slowly, watching her. “Thanks.” But he’d heard her qualifier loud and clear. If anyone could.
There was something else, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. He was getting a vibe from her that was slightly off, making his instincts itchy all of a sudden. Making him restless.
His gaze dropped, skimming the small, perfect proportion of her feminine body, and he had to admit that maybe it wasn’t his instincts so much as his hormones kicking up that had him slightly on edge.
“Do you want to shoot first, or watch me?” Tarrys asked, dropping the handful of arrows into the quiver strapped to her back without looking, as if she’d been doing it all her life. She probably had. The flicker of challenge in her eyes definitely prodded his interest. He relaxed and grinned, not bothering to hide the subtle, surprising attraction he was feeling. “I want to watch you. Definitely want to watch you.”
She met his gaze for the briefest instant before turning away, a hint of color in her cheeks, a small, charming smile on her lips.
Charlie smiled to himself as he followed her across the roof. She was as light-footed and graceful as a dancer and as proud and confident as any trained soldier. He’d never thought about it before—he’d never really spared any thought on the little Marceil at all—but she didn’t cower or grovel as someone who’d been a slave. Probably because her masters had never had to break her spirit in order to control her. When the Esri enchanted a human, they controlled them body and mind. The human never knew what was happening. They never remembered. While the Esri couldn’t take over a Marceil’s mind, they could … and did … enslave their bodies, controlling every action with a thought or a touch.
Reaching the far end of the roof, Tarrys turned and met his gaze. “Do you want me to shoot slowly so you can see what I do, or normal speed?”
Charlie stepped out of her line of fire. “Normal speed. Show me what you’ve got.” He studied her delicate profile as she faced the target, wondering why he’d never noticed how pretty she was. Her features were small—everything about her was small—but perfectly proportioned. Except, perhaps, her eyes, which were just about big enough to drown in. And that lower lip of hers, which was definitely full enough to catch his attention.
He shook his head and pried his gaze from her mouth. Her violet eyes flicked his way, unreadable, whispering of miles of untold depths. What was going on in that head of hers? He’d never before wondered, he realized. Never before noticed the gleam of sharp intelligence.
Too bad he was about to leave for Esria.
Without warning, Tarrys reached over her shoulder for an arrow, nocked and shot it, then reached for a second. He watched in stunned admiration as she fired six arrows in less than six seconds, hitting the target in a perfect line, top to bottom, alternating each arrow high and low.
A whoop of appreciation erupted from his throat. “Hot damn, eaglet. That was brilliant.”
He caught a glimpse of a smile on her mobile mouth before she handed him the bow. “Your turn.”
Charlie laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Her smile bloomed, amused and enchanting,