Flesh Wounds
Part Five
"I really don't know what to tell you, Athena."
"Perapa, so far, I've got zilch. I even called the Charmed Ones, but the Book of Shadows has nothing…not that I'm really surprised…But anyway…"
Giles smiled at his phone. She was still treating him as her father, which warmed his considerably. But she was also still speaking, and he brought his attention back. "A friend told me the only way to defeat these…whatever they are…is to have the Witchblades working together. Does that ring any bells?"
A slight frown crossed his features. "That does sound familiar. May I call you back?"
"Of course. Thanks."
"Athena…I know you've probably heard this a thousand times, but be careful. I love you like a daughter."
"I love you, too, Perapa." She hung up as Xander came into her makeshift office.
"Anything?"
"Not yet. He'll call me back."
"Well, it has been about two days since the last report."
"Xand, in this case, no news is bad, bad news. No news means no clues. Yes, Fera?"
Xander glanced up, startled. He had not known the feathered Altereed had arrived on the planet, much less entered the room.
"You asked for the Book," she whispered in her soft, melodious voice.
"Ah, yes, thank you." The Princess took the large, leather-bound book from Fera's magenta hands. "Tell the Elders I'll have this back as soon as I can."
The Altereed bowed and glided away.
"'Thene, why don't you go home?" Xander delicately suggested. "Take the Book, and relax a little. I'll stay here tonight and call if anything happens."
When she hesitated, he mock-threatened, "Don't make me call that antiques dealer."
"His name is Gabriel, Xander." Taking his face in her hands, she kissed his forehead. "Thank you."
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Athena was flipping through the Book of Carpara, but her mind kept wandering to a certain Gabriel Bowman. Why had to Witchblade reacted so to his touch? She groaned, absently rubbing her neck. A hot shower had helped, but only barely, and she found herself thinking longingly of her personal masseuse, Matthew, back in Australia. Perhaps some tea would help.
Someone knocked on the door as she was filling her cup; her brow rose when she saw whom it was. Talk about speak of the devil. "Hey, Gabe."
He grinned at her boxer shorts and sports bra. "Hey. Nice."
She shook her head. "Shut up."
His grin widened. "Anyway, I got the rest translated."
"Fantastic. Come on in. Are you hungry, thirsty? I'm making some tea."
"That's fine." His eyes widened slightly at the apartment's interior. "Nice digs."
"Thanks," she replied, filling another cup. "One of the few perks to this job." Snapping her fingers, she heated the water and dropped in some tea bags. "Honey or sugar?"
"What?" He questioned, misunderstanding the question.
"Sweetener? Honey or sugar?" She re-asked, holding the two up.
"Just sugar, thanks," he answered, flushing slightly. She arched a brow, but did not say anything.
Once they settled on the couch with their cups, he handed her the papers. "It, uh…It seems like a bunch of babble," he admitted. "Since I can't speak Sumerian, I don't really know what it means. Sorry."
"Thanks, anyway. Really." She rotated her neck, growling at the tenseness.
"Hey, you okay?"
"A little stiff," she replied honestly.
"Then…don't take this wrong…but let me give you a massage."
"Nah, I'll be okay." She did not know why she was refusing, but something in her was wary of how much she wanted Gabriel to touch her.
"Yeah, yeah," he laughed, setting their cups down. "Here, I don't mind." Turning her so her back was to him, he began to gently rub her shoulders.
"Oh, god," she moaned. "That feels so good."
He moved closer, placing his cheek next to hers. "Glad you like."
She found herself turning, their eyes meeting, and he swallowed thickly. "Why…um…why don't you move to the bed, and we'll do this right," he suggested, voice husky.
Wordlessly rising, she moved into the bedroom while he slipped into the bathroom, finding a bottle of oil, and he had to squash down an irrational surge of jealousy at the thought of someone else using this to touch her.
When he came back out, the lights were dimmed, and she was facedown on the bed. His hungry gaze swept over her slim form before he managed to control himself and go to her, pouring some oil into his hands and warming it. Starting at her thighs, he worked down, relaxing the muscles with his firm touch. Then he rolled her over and worked his way back up, stopping just below the hem of her boxer shorts. "Feel better?"
"Please don't tell me you're stopping," she murmured.
"No…we're just getting started."
She opened her eyes, studying him. "Are we now?"
Instead of answering, he began to work on her hands and arms, smiling down at her. "How's that feel?"
"Heaven doesn't even come close."
"Good. Roll over and take off your bra."
She arched a brow. "I knew you were just waiting for an excuse to get my clothes off."
"How well you know me." He grinned. "I can't do your back until you take your bra off."
Going back onto her stomach, she stretched her arms up straight. "Wanna help me?"
"Please, don't tempt me."
Smirking into her pillow, she wriggled out of her top, too lazy to use magic on it. A weight settled across her upper thighs; she shuddered as cold oil pooled in the small of her back. Calming her with a light touch, he slowly worked the oil into her skin, becoming more aroused with every soft moans, the almond scent surrounding them. Skillfully finding every sore spot, he rubbed with just the right pressure until her muscles were like warmed honey under his hands. "Gabe," she breathed as he softened his touch to the lightest of caresses.
"I take it you liked?" He teased.
"Mmmm," she purred, and he gulped. That purr was wrecking havoc on the little control he had left.
Just knowing he was going to get hurt painfully, he dare to bend down and kiss the base of her neck, barely brush the smooth skin with the tip of his tongue. Her breath stopped; her back arched toward his touch. Surprised, and gratified, he experimented slightly, gently nibbling on the side of her neck. "G-Gabriel," she panted. "What are you doing?"
"Relaxing you," he smiled. "Am I doing a good job?"
"Oh, god," she whispered as he grazed her ear with his teeth. "Please, Gabriel…"
"Please what?"
Her fingers were digging into her pillow when he suddenly bit her jugular, hard; the pillow ripped, sending feathers everywhere.
He began to laugh, his warm breath puffing against her skin. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was an invitation."
"Tempter," she smiled into her mattress. "How'd you know about the neck thing?"
"I didn't, until now." He watched her bracelet. "It's green again."
"I wish I knew why it was doing that," she mumbled, raising her head to frown at the piece of jewelry.
Fighting with himself, he bent and pressed his lips to her shoulderblade. "You'd better put your top back on."
"Don't wanna," she mock-whined to cover her surprise. "Wanna stay like this."
"Athena, I'm barely holding on as it is, and this was not how I pictured this happening." Not letting her reply, he rolled off and went back into the living room.
A few minutes later, she joined him, tossing on a large black button-up shirt over her bra and boxers. Sitting beside him, she reheated their tea with a thought, then hesitantly said, "You imagined…us?"
