“You’re very fond of him.”
More than he would ever admit out loud. He remembered trying to teach Vulgrim to ride a horse, and only after a dozen falls did he realize that Ramreel physiology made it practically impossible for them to ride. Vulgrim liked to recount that story whenever he felt Ares needed to be humiliated, and Ares would act all irritable, but in truth, he liked the teasing that few others would dare.
“It’s funny,” he said. “Sometimes I wonder if he’d have gotten along with my sons.” Had they not been… yeah.
There was another long silence, and then, “Did you love your wife?”
He smiled, but she couldn’t have seen it. “Love was never part of our life. It was an arranged marriage. My wife knew what was expected of her, and she pleased me well enough.”
“Well… enough? Sounds like it was fun to be her.”
“She had a good life.” It was her death that was the atrocity. “No need to be outraged on her behalf. I didn’t beat her, I allowed her to spend coin on luxuries, and I didn’t take mistresses.”
“How considerate of you.”
He turned to Cara, reached out to brush a wind-blown lock of hair off her face. “It had nothing to do with being considerate. Truly, I was a bastard. I simply had no interest in women. Fighting was my life.” He waggled his brows. “The Greek god, Ares, is based on me.”
She rolled her eyes. “That must have been an ego boost.”
“I miss the days of the Greek empire. It was cool being a god.” He sighed. “Then the single-deity religions came along and ruined everything.”
“Gee, I’m so sorry.”
He laughed at her sarcasm. “Makes things simpler for humans, I guess, but they’ve gotten most of it wrong. Today’s population has no idea how much manipulation of facts has taken place over the centuries. Still amazes me that people spend more time researching a new vehicle than they do the religion they entrust their souls to. They should CARFAX their faiths. The history would shock the hell out of people.”
One delicate eyebrow rose on her forehead. “I think someone’s bitter about not being a Greek god anymore.” Her mouth quirked in amusement, and she crossed her arms over her chest, which plumped her breasts out nicely. “But you and your brothers and sister must have had a blast, watching history happen and being part of it.”
“At times,” he admitted. He turned back to the sea and focused on some bobbing boat lights in the distance. “But mostly we spent our time watching events take place and wondering if they were portents that would bring about the breaking of our Seals. And unfortunately, we spent way too much time goofing off when we should have been trying harder to locate or protect our agimorti.”
“I’m sorry,” Cara said softly. “I’ve been a little selfish.” He felt her palm on his back, and he was too stunned to move.
“Selfish? You’ve had everything taken away from you. How are you being selfish?”
“I didn’t think about how awful this has to be for you. Your brother has turned against you, and it might be only a matter of time before you succumb to the same fate.”
Jesus. She was serious. She actually gave a shit about how he felt. He wasn’t sure if he liked that or not, but he did know he didn’t want to talk about it. “Why did you lie to Limos?”
Her hand slid up to his neck and her strong, flexible fingers massaged the tense muscles there. After all he’d just told her about the evil he’d done, she still wanted to touch him. To soothe him. He didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t do anything to stop her.
“Cara? Why?”
“Because I was worried about you.”
On some level, her admission pleased him. But on a much higher, much darker level, it pissed him the fuck off. Did she think he couldn’t take care of himself? Did she not give a shit about her own life? He rounded on her. “That was stupid, Cara. You left yourself vulnerable. Do you like being attacked? Is that it?”
“N-no.” She recoiled, and something desperate flashed in her eyes, a haunted shadow he had seen far too many times over the course of his life.
Shit. He reached for her, but a vicious snarl froze him to the ground, and hot, fetid breath against his ear sent his heart rate into a galloping speed even Battle would envy. He didn’t need to look to know Hal was crouched on the wall, his teeth just inches from his throat.
“Hal.” Cara spoke so calmly that no one could have guessed that just a moment earlier, she’d looked like she might break down. Damn… all this time, he’d wanted her to toughen up, but she was already there. She bounced back easily, fully, and most impressively. “He isn’t going to hurt me.”
Still the beast snarled, clearly not buying what Cara had to say. He lunged, and suddenly, his mouth was clamped down on Ares’s throat. The teeth didn’t puncture, but Ares couldn’t move without being bitten or scratched.
“Cara,” he gritted out. “What. The. Fuck.”
She licked her lips. “Your anger scares him. He thinks you’re tricking me.”
“Convince him otherwise.” After this, he was going to find a shaman, wizard, sorcerer… someone who could break a hellhound bond, because this asshole mutt needed to die, and his sire along with him.
Slowly, she eased up to them both. She curled one hand in Hal’s scruff, and put her other hand around the back of Ares’s neck. Her breasts became a soft pressure against his chest, and then she was on her toes, putting her lips on his. And what do you know, Hal’s growls grew quieter.
“See, Hal,” she whispered against his lips. “Ares won’t hurt me.” She squeezed his neck, her fingernails digging in so deep he hissed. In pleasure. “Will you?”
“No,” he said against her mouth. “Never.”
But he was a warrior, and if it came down to hurting her or saving the world, he knew what he’d choose. For the first time, the idea truly bothered him, and for the first time he actually felt like War.
Eighteen
Cara really had no idea what was up with Hal, but he’d come out of nowhere, and no matter what she said to him, he was convinced Ares was going to hurt her.
He could kill you.
“He’s not going to.”
He could. He is bad. He kills my pack. He tries to kill father.
“I know,” she whispered. The pain and death that Ares and Chaos had brought down on each other was staggering.
I bite him.
“No!” She stroked Hal’s fur, desperate to calm him down. “I need him to protect me, like I need you. There are a lot of bad people who want me dead. You know that, right?”
Hal growled. I kill them.
All this talk of killing was seriously disturbing, and she didn’t know if she’d ever get used to this world, these beings. Heck, she didn’t want to get used to it. No one should ever grow numb to death.
“Hal, you must only harm those who mean us harm.”
Like War.
“He means us no harm.” No doubt the conversation seemed strange to Ares, who could hear only one side, and it didn’t help that he kept tensing. Each twitch of his muscles made Hal’s huge claws dig deeper into the stone wall. Scorch marks spread from beneath his paws, creating blackened veins in the rock. It was scary as hell, and she had to wonder what other surprises she was in for with the hellhound. Slowly, she ran her hand through Ares’s silky hair and made sure Hal saw her nuzzle his cheek. “See? He likes me.”
A dubious growl vibrated the air. She put her lips to Ares’s again. “Kiss me,” she murmured, and though she knew Ares could hardly move, he dipped his head, just slightly, to increase the pressure on her mouth. And while it might be crazy, the feel of him made her skin sizzle.
She kept kissing him, and gradually, Hal stopped growling. He released his hold on Ares’s throat, and instantly, the tension drained from Ares’s body. Wisely, though, he didn’t move away from her. In fact, one arm came around her waist, and he hauled her tightly against him.
“You can go, Hal. Keep me safe by patrolling the i
sland. Find rats.”
Tasty. Hal’s lips peeled back as he shot Ares a warning look. He is danger.
Yes, he was, but she didn’t say anything, simply clung to Ares as Hal disappeared over the wall. She expected Ares to release her, but instead, he kissed her again. “I hate your dog,” he muttered against her lips. “I want him to be stuffed and mounted on my wall. But I’m tired of fighting him, you, and myself.”
Himself? “What does that mean?”
His long fingers swept over his throat, over that tiny crescent scar, and his armor melted away, leaving her crushed against his chest. His thigh parted hers, and she nearly moaned at the delicious pressure of his hard muscle against her core. “It means that sometimes, to win a war, you have to change tactics.” He smiled against her mouth. “I’m flexible like that.”
He swept her up, and before she could protest—or encourage him—he laid her out on the patio couch. The cushions sank deep under their weight. His calloused palm slid beneath her sweatshirt, and he shuddered when he reached her bare breasts.
“No bra,” he said against her mouth. “Thank you. I hate those things. Dumbest human invention. Ever.”
She captured his hand, encouraging his touch, loving the way he was both gentle and rough, a combination of long strokes over her flesh and stinging pinches on her nipples. Her breasts swelled, ached, and as if he knew she was wanting more, he stripped her sweatshirt off, tossed it to the ground, and took her in his mouth. He drew deep, his tongue rasping over her sensitive nipples, leaving her dazed, breathless, and oh so wet.
“Yesssss…” Her moan of pleasure floated into the twilight, joining the crash of waves and the distant call of sea birds. This was the most beautiful thing she’d ever experienced, a moment she’d remember forever.
Forever might be very short.
Flushing the depressing thought from her mind, she dug her nails into his shoulders and arched her back, needing to feel the entire length of his body against hers. His thighs parted her legs, putting his sex where she wanted it, and as she writhed and his hips rolled, heat built at her center, and lust intoxicated her.
It didn’t take long before he was working her jeans’ zipper, and her hands were just as frantic, tearing open his pants to release his massive length. The moment it sprang free, she took the shaft in her fist, reveling in the desperate male sound that broke from his throat.
His gaze gleamed with hunger as it locked with hers. Lips parted to allow for his panting breaths, he braced himself on one arm and slid his palm under her panties. His fingers slipped between her folds, and he groaned.
“You’re so wet.” One finger pushed inside her, and she nearly came. “So tight.”
“I thought I was too weak for you.” She squeezed his cock, rubbed her finger in the drop of wetness at the tip, and he hissed in pleasure.
“I was wrong,” he rasped. “I’ve seen how you handle Battle, Hal… and me. I was so fucking wrong.”
He leaped off the sofa, yanked her jeans from her legs, and then stripped out of his clothes. When he was done, he stood in front of her, a stunning work of masculinity. And, to her delight, he was as smooth and hairless between his legs as he was on his chest. Her heart jerked as he palmed his straining erection.
“I never do this.” He squeezed himself, and she became glued to the motion he began—long, slow pumps of his fist down the length and back up to swallow the head as he delivered a little twist.
“Um… you never… masturbate?”
His eyes were slits behind his heavy lids, but the intensity was in no way diminished. “I never slow it down like this. It’s always rough and hard with a female.” He sank down between her legs, but he never stopped the erotic play with his penis. “It’s always been about the release. The who-can-fuck-who-the-hardest.”
Images of him pounding into other women—females, as he called them—wrung a nasty punch of jealousy out of her, but when she inserted herself into the picture, she flamed hot. To have all that undiluted sexual power ramming into her like a force of nature… oh, God.
“I want that.”
Her declaration sent a shudder through him, and his strokes sped up. The idea excited him. “Not… now.”
He still thought she was too weak. But if it were true that she was dying, she certainly wasn’t going to get any stronger. “Ares—”
“No. You aren’t like those other females. I want this to be different.” He backed up, lowering his head between her legs. There was no warning, just his hot, wet tongue penetrating her slit.
She arched skyward, might have launched right off the cushion if he hadn’t gripped her hips and held her firmly against his mouth. He alternated long passes of the flat of his tongue with lingering, gentle pulls on her clit and deep thrusts inside her.
“You taste like the ocean. Fuck…” Groaning, he lifted one leg over his shoulder and opened her wide, his thumbs spreading her to the night air and his sultry breath. She rolled her hips, encouraging him—not that he needed it. He pleasured her with a vengeance, his carnal timing keeping her at the edge of orgasm for endless, blissful minutes. Streams of erotic sensation made her mindless, light-headed, and before she knew it, her hands were tangled in his soft hair, guiding that magic tongue where she needed it most.
He didn’t tease. He worked her with a goal, and when she began to buck, gasping for air, he growled against her core and latched on, sucking while plunging his tongue into her in a devastating rhythm. Her climax spun up like a storm, a whirlwind of ecstasy, and before it had fully tapered off, Ares lunged, mounting her, his closed fists coming down on either side of her head, the broad tip of his shaft nudging her center.
“I love the way you come,” he whispered into her ear. “You’re loud, the way a male likes it.” Her breath caught at his words, but then he was rubbing his erection through her folds, sliding back and forth over sensitive tissues, and nothing mattered but getting him inside her.
“Wait.” She slapped her palm on his chest. “Protection?”
He lifted his head, his brows drawn in confusion. “My guards are stationed nearby—ah, you mean for the sex.” She nodded, and also really hoped his guards hadn’t heard any of this. “I can’t contract or transmit disease, and I take skullwort every two months to prevent my seed from planting.”
Oddly phrased, for sure, but who cared? She was aching, her climax still throbbing, and she just wanted to get on with it. She stopped thinking, reached between them to guide him to her entrance. “Now,” she said hoarsely.
“Now,” he agreed, and rocked his hips, plunging into her. They both moaned.
His entire body undulated, his muscles bunching and flexing, and when he threw his head back, the corded tendons in his neck strained. They moved together, her legs wrapped around his waist and locked at the ankles over his butt.
“This,” he breathed, “is so good. You’re… still rippling.”
The sea breeze wrapped around her, mingling with the scent of Ares’s warm skin, the steamy sex, and the sweet flowers that lined the patio walls. Suddenly, he reared back, gripped her thighs, and watched their mating. It was such a turn-on, and she was so freaking into it. She braced herself on her feet and lifted her hips off the cushions so she could meet each of his powerful thrusts with one of her own.
The sight of him watching, the way it affected him so strongly, brought her to the very edge. His broad chest expanded in great, shuddering breaths, his eyes burned, and yet, she sensed he was holding back. He was driving into her with passion she’d never felt from the two lovers she’d had—the high school boyfriend she’d lost her virginity to, and then Jackson—but Ares’s great power was restrained.
She. Was. Not. Weak!
An ancient, primal feminine instinct awakened in her, and she snarled, rose up, and dug her nails into his chest. He made a harsh noise, baring his teeth in surprise and pain. She didn’t spare him. Ruthlessly, she raked her nails over him, dragging them over the rolling eight-pack of his abs
. His roar of pleasure accompanied a mighty surge, and suddenly, she found herself lifted and her back pressed against the wall, with one of Ares’s arms behind her as a buffer. Her knees were spread wide on the cushions, and Ares was kneeling between them, his hips pistoning urgently as he drilled her deep and fast.
Rocking his head, he sank his teeth into the juncture between her throat and shoulder, and dear, sweet Lord, she was done for. His possession was swift and sure and she reveled in the animal mating. He was marking her with his teeth, with his body, and even the bruises she’d have later would be evidence of the savage fever that had taken him.
Her orgasm blazed through her with the intensity of the Greek sun, scorching her from the inside out. Her body clenched, the pleasure going on and on until he shouted a guttural curse, his body convulsing as a hot wash of seed jetted into her, touching off another orgasm for her, and maybe another for him.
Though he collapsed against her, his face buried in her neck, he kept moving inside her long after it was over. “Are you okay?” His voice was a wonderfully husky rasp against her hot skin.
“Never… better,” she breathed.
With jerky movements, he eased her away from the wall and rolled them both onto the cushions so he was on his back and she was on her side, one leg and arm draped over him. His heavy sex lay glistening and spent on his stomach, and his chest rose and fell with gradually slowing breaths.
“We can’t do that again, Cara.” He trailed his fingers absently over her thigh.
“But I liked it.” Loved it.
“You shouldn’t have provoked me,” he snapped. “And I shouldn’t have let you.” His voice tempered, went low and even. “You can’t afford the energy expenditure or injuries, and I can’t afford—”
“Can’t afford what?”
“I can’t afford to get too close to you. Even if you transfer the agimortus, you’ll be a target for anyone who wants to hurt me or get to me by hurting you. My sons paid in blood because I loved them. That will never happen again.”