Ares (Contemporary Mythos Book 3)
Ares: Chapter 15

My eyes fluttered open, gaze dropping to a thick arm resting over mine. I nuzzled the dark sprouts of hair, and he moaned against the back of my head. Our legs curled together, and the white sheet spread over my chest. I rolled to face him, slipping my hand into his with a smile.

“Kaliméra,” he purred, brushing hair away from my eyes.

“Does that mean good morning?”

“Mm, yes, or good day in general. Once it’s the evening, you say ‘kalispéra.’”

I bit down on my lip. “Kal-i…mera?”

A deep chuckle flowed from his chest. “Now say it without sounding like a question.”

I playfully kicked him in the shin. “Kaliméra,”

“Téleio.” He brushed his lips over my cheek. “Perfect.”

“I’d love to learn more Greek if you’d teach me.”

He grinned and bopped the tip of my nose with his knuckle. “Of course.” He sat up and slid until his back pressed to the headboard, motioning for me to follow.

I wiggled between his legs and rested my back against his chest. He hiked one knee, and I ran my finger down the top of his thigh. A silver dagger appeared in his outstretched hand.

“What the hell?” I stared at the dagger as he twirled it in his palm.

“This?” He gave it one toss and held the handle out to me. “Have I not shown you that power?”

I ran my fingers over the smooth marble. “Um, no. Pretty sure I’d remember.”

“I can conjure any weapon Hephaistos has forged for me.”

Hephaestus. God of the forge? Had to be.

He touched my tattoo, tracing over its markings. “These symbols suit you.”

“Would it alarm you if I said I didn’t know what they were?”

He chuckled and craned his neck to look at me. “You got permanent ink in your skin without knowing what it meant?”

“I was at the parlor, and it…came to me.”

He kissed my temple with a low “mm.” “Every passing day makes more and more sense.”

“Are you going to tell me what they mean?”

He trailed his finger over a symbol with a half-circle on top, flowing into a line which resembled raised arms and another line ending in a check with a horizontal line across it. “Warrior.” Moving his touch, he paused on the one drawn like a fancy backward “S” with two diagonal lines in the center. “Immortality.”

I stiffened. How did I pick a symbol meaning immortality all those years ago?

He smiled against the side of my head as he landed on the final mark. A straight line with opposite-facing triangles on each end and a swirly “S” shape through the center. “Harmony.”

“Do you think a god or goddess influenced me to get this design? These symbols?”

He continued to draw lazy circles over the tattoo. “Perhaps. Or you dug it up from a place deeply seated.”

“Tell me more about you, Ares.” I nestled against him like I was a child waiting for storytime.

“What do you wish to know?” He made the dagger disappear and reappear from his palm several times.

“Everything.”

He smiled against the top of my head. “Not sure we have time for thousands of years of my life, but I’ll tell you the highlights.”

“I’m all ears, Spartan.”

“How much of Greek mythology do you know?”

I puckered my lips, dipping into my ten-year-old brain. “Zeus. Titans. Underworld. Apollo. Aphrodite.” My shoulders tensed. “Wait. You banged Aphrodite. Your sister.”

He sighed. “Vlákas. Thousands of stories, and you had to remember that one.”

Keeping silent, I waited, pleading for him to tell me it wasn’t true.

“I have a rare opportunity here to clear the air on a few things. One being an affair with Aphrodite. I swear you tell your sister she looks beautiful one time, and mortals run away with it like olive branches in the wind.”

“So…you didn’t sleep with her?”

He curled his arm over my chest, resting his hand on my opposite shoulder. “No. I’ve never even thought of her that way. Let me tell you something. Homer—you know who that is, correct?”

I tilted my head up to throw him a look of exasperation.

“Right. I had to ask. Homer hated me—hated what I represented. He preferred Athena’s version of war. Less violent. More strategic. At least that’s the spin they put on it.” He traced circles on my shoulder with his fingertip. “Despite what most may think, war is often necessary to progress. It isn’t always diplomatic. Humans were inherently created to fight for what they believe in, and then you add free will into the mix…well.”

I rested the back of my head against his nape. “You represent Sparta, and Athena represented Athens then.”

“Insightful. Yes.”

“It’s one thing for Homer to hate you, but the story with Aphrodite is pure humiliation.” I frowned.

“More people feared me than reveled in what I could provide. There were few temples in my honor. Those who worshipped me were often called cults.” He trailed his hand down the side of my face. “Who was I to blame them? They misinterpreted me as a symbol of catastrophe. When in reality, I was the representation of regeneration.”

“Not everyone is as open to change,” I whispered.

If we genuinely shared this—fated bond, as he called it…why me?

“Exactly. When I was younger, the ridicule drove me crazy. Zeus exiled me from Olympus because I couldn’t control my anger. My rage.” His hand resting on my shoulder balled into a fist. “My own father threw me from our home rather than try to help—to teach me how to use the powers bestowed on me.”

He was abandoned by a father he had, but who was unwilling to be one. The words hit home and made my chest tighten. “What did you do?”

“My uncle, Hades, was more of a father to me than Zeus ever was.” He made a tsking sound. “Probably because he too was dealt a poor hand from the King of the Gods.”

“And once you were in control, you didn’t try to go back to Olympus?”

“No,” he snarled. “The last thing I was going to do was come crawling back to dear old dad. I’ve done fine. Besides, war isn’t even the same anymore.”

“Battles are fought every day all over the world.”

He scraped his beard against my forehead. “Wars of today are far less poetic. Now you can kill a man from miles away with a well-aimed shot without them ever seeing your face.”

“Unlike a sword?”

“Yes. It also took far more cunning to survive. Spraying bullets is one thing, but knowing how to swing a sword, another matter entirely. The world has lost its intimacy—with war, each other, all of it.”

Somehow in a deep-rooted place within my soul, I felt his words. “The heroes of Ancient Greece—Achilles, Theseus, Perseus. Did any of it have to do with you?”

“I pushed them all through the frenzy of war. Gave them the extra passion and energy to succeed because I knew only in their successes would Greece progress.”

“And you received no credit because to give you credit would’ve glorified you,” I muttered, my frown deepening.

“To put it mildly,” he replied, his voice trailing off. “But at the end of the day, the name Ares will always be synonymous with the God of War. Homer, on the other hand, gets tossed in with a chubby yellow oaf obsessed with donuts.”

I let the words sink in with widened eyes before bursting with laughter.

He gave a wry grin.

I needed to feel it again—feel the passion driving through me with a sword against my palm. Now that I knew who he was.

I turned to face him. “Why don’t we continue this storytelling session elsewhere?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Where do you suggest?”

“Your gym,” I replied with a grin, sliding off the bed. “Now that I know who you are, I want to spar again.”

He rubbed his chin, squinting at me like I was the world’s most complicated chess move. “I don’t want to hurt you, Harm.”

“You know you never would, but I want a chance to show you what I’m truly made of. Give me a challenge. In between jabs, you keep telling me about your life.”

He stood in front of me, trailing his fingertips down my cheeks. “For a mortal, you’re taking this all incredibly well. I can’t say I saw this coming.”

You and me both, buddy.

“In the back of my head, I think I’ve known since the moment I met you. I can’t explain it. I just…knew. Like the symbols in my tattoo.”

A fated bond…

His eyes twinkled, and he bent his head to kiss me.

“Care to make this trip a little faster? There are no witnesses here. None at the gym.” I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth with a smile.

He chuckled. “Genuinely, did not see this coming.” With a simple touch from him to my shoulder, we appeared in the middle of the gym through a flash of light and smoke, fully clothed.

“I’d never get tired of that.” I beamed up at him.

His smile faded, and he rubbed the back of his neck before turning away.

Was it something I said?

“You say you want to show me your full potential.” A xiphos appeared in his hand, its blade glinting from the overhead lights. “Is there a reason you held back before?”

I paced the borders of the mat. “Before, I felt caged.”

“And now?” He tossed the xiphos to me and produced a javelin.

I caught the sword and locked gazes with him. “I’m invigorated with a newfound valor.” Taking position, I raised the sword and slid one foot forward. “Is that your doing?”

“Partly, perhaps.” He flipped the javelin across his back and to the opposite hand. “Each god influences mortals in different ways. But whereas Apollo inspires creativity, I inspire destruction…”

He launched his javelin, and I swung my sword down, deflecting the blow.

“Victory,” he continued, standing upright before twirling the javelin in his hands above my head.

I ducked and slid across the mat on one knee.

“Justice.” He did a quick spin to avoid my thrust at his right shoulder.

I dropped to my knees and slashed at the back of his leg, nicking it with my blade. He cocked an eyebrow, tripped me onto my back, and pointed the javelin at my face. I smiled as he sunk, his hair falling over my face, framing it.

“Protection,” he whispered, his lips brushing mine.

“Are you saying I need protection?” I pushed the javelin aside and sat up on my elbows.

“Everyone does at some time or another. It doesn’t make you weak.”

“Even the God of War?”

“Even me,” he said with a deep huskiness.

I raised my forearm, holding it out as if a shield were strapped to it. “My shield is yours.”

His eyes blazed. “The blood we would’ve shed.”

His words. His gaze. Everything about him sent my heart racing.

“Tell me more,” I whispered.

He hoisted me up. A shield appeared in my hand, followed by a matching one in his.

“The Trojan War,” he started, beating the hilt of his sword against the shield.

“I’m familiar.”

He slashed at me, and I blocked it with the shield—the sound of metal crashing into metal bounced off the gym walls.

“Our beloved Homer wrote me as a coward—weaker than the other gods.” He slashed, turned on his heel, jumped, and stabbed downward.

I blocked one blow with the shield, deflected the other with my blade, and slammed my shield into his.

“More lies?”

“An endless string. He stated Aphrodite was the one who convinced me to fight alongside the Trojans.” His javelin poked from the top of his shield.

I sidestepped away, bringing my shield up, snapping the weapon.

He lowered his shield with a twinkle in his eye—an expression bordering on shocked and impressed.

“You were extremely loyal to the Greeks. How could she have possibly convinced you otherwise?”

“She didn’t. Zeus commanded me. I think it was because he knew they’d lose and didn’t want me on the victor’s side.”

“I’m guessing all the stories about Zeus aren’t fabricated?” I darted forward, planting blow after blow into his shield, moving him backward.

He grunted when he neared the wall, throwing his shield and xiphos to the ground. “Our stories have all been fabricated to a point. How would a mortal know the affairs that happened in the Underworld? On Mount Olympus?”

“Fair point.”

He threw his fists at his sides, making billowy red flames waft over them.

“That, however—” I stared at the power coursing through his veins. “Isn’t fair.”

“Is war ever?”

My stomach flipped and twisted. Resting the blade of my sword on top of my shield, I eyed his hands, ready for the first strike.

“You’re going to shoot fire in here?”

A challenging grin quirked his lips. “Better get to blocking.”

He threw one arm out, palm up. A fireball launched at me, and I blocked myself with the shield. The metal sizzled and popped.

“Homer described me as ‘hateful Ares,’ ‘the war-glutton,’ the ‘curse of men,’ to name a few. How could I be anything but gluttonous for battle? And the only men I would curse are those too weak to fight for honor.”

Another fireball. This one left a fist-sized hole in my shield, the edges glowing neon red before leaving behind blackened remains.

“Did Athena really hit you over the head with a rock?” I winced.

The fire blazed brighter, swirling up his arms. “A rock hit me, yes. But not from Athena. A javelin hit a nearby cliff, but I’m a god. It felt like nothing more than a mild tickle.”

“And the pitiful Ares scream that sounded like ten thousand men?”

He shook his head, the red flames leading up to his shoulders. “A chorus of men screaming from my repeated javelin throws.”

He slammed his hands together, sending a shockwave of fire. I lifted my shield over my head as the flame burst into it, sliding me across the mat. When I opened my eyes, only half of the shield remained, and I stared at Ares through the smoking hole left behind.

“How did you know I’d be able to block that?”

He wiggled his fingers, making the fire on his hand hiss. “Because I wouldn’t be fated to you if you couldn’t.”

My heart raced, goosebumps littered my skin, and every neuron in my body shouted for him.

I tossed the damaged shield aside as he threw another ball. Front somersaulting forward, I hurled my sword at him. He leaned to one side, catching it by the blade with a quirked brow.

“You tell these stories like you need to convince me of who and what you represent.” I sauntered toward him, crossing one foot over the other. “If men feared you, good. We didn’t need that kind on the battlefield. Their purpose was elsewhere. A fairly good-looking guy told me once, battles aren’t won by doing something half-assed.”

The flames disappeared as he lifted a hand to brush his thumb over my chin. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

“Something like that.” I shrugged, offering a wry grin.

He held my xiphos in one hand and materialized a gold spear with four prongs. The two in the middle were longer and thinner, while the other two were thicker.

“Try fighting with this.”

“Is this—a trident?” I flicked the pointy end.

“Tridents are for sea gods. I had Hephaistos add an extra prong.”

“How mature of you.”

“And everyone thinks I’m so serious.” He winked.

“So, what do I call this then? A quadrident?”

He let out a deep, masculine chuckle. “Whatever you want to call it, the blades still work the same.”

“Not entirely sure I know what to do with this.” I twirled the handle in my palm, watching the reflections bounce off the golden prongs.

“You said that about the xiphos too.” He dragged a hand over the top of his head, securing the dark tendrils briefly before they fell again. “Are you going to keep underestimating yourself or give it a swing?”

His fiery gaze pierced me, sending a mixture of lust and fury.

I thrust the spear forward. He deflected. In a circular motion, I swung the weapon around my head, attempting to clip him. He slid backward with a grin. I spun around, hurling the spear with me, and it crashed into the side of Ares’s sword.

“You’re a natural,” he cooed. “I dare say it’s in your blood.”

I cinched my brow. “You keep saying that. What does it mean, Ares? What does this say about the entire life I’ve led?”

“I don’t have an answer for you. I wish we’d have met sooner. Maybe I could’ve kept you from going through all that—” His throat bobbed as he gulped, staring at me across the room with a heated gaze. “Pain.”

Sinuses stinging, I stared at the conviction on his face as he shared his truth. I thrust forward, slid back, and jumped, striking down. His blade caught between the prongs, and I yanked the hilt from his grasp.

The intensity in his stare suggested he was moments away from repeating last night’s hotel room desk act. Heart pounding, I ran forward, dipped the prongs, and swung up, aiming for his chest. He grabbed the spear right below the prongs and yanked it from me, throwing it into the wall like a javelin.

He wrapped a hand around my wrist and pulled me forward. I collapsed against him, welcoming the kiss, opening my mouth wider to let more of him in.

He slipped away, nibbling on my lower lip. “The dream you had of us on the battlefield…”

The darkness of his eyes was like looking into a well—bending over to peer into its mystery, trying to make out where the blackness stopped, and the water began—bending, bending, bending…until you fell in.

I nodded.

“Were we in an ancient battle?”

“Spartans.”

He cocked his head to the side, trailing a fingertip between my shoulder blades. “And after we were victorious?”

The fact he didn’t need to ask if we were victorious made my stomach clench.

“We raced to our tent.”

“Our tent?”

“Uh-huh.”

He brushed his beard against my cheek, skirting his lips over my earlobe. “And what did we do in our tent?”

“Celebrated. Multiple times,” I whispered against his neck.

“Mm,” he growled, his nose dipping to my collarbone.

“I’m game for reenacting it if you are.” I raised a brow.

“And what would we be celebrating?”

“I’m sure we can think of something.”

“You should probably save your strength for the fight tomorrow. Sex is like a battle to me. I never go ‘half-assed’ as you so eloquently put it.” He bumped his knuckle under my chin.

“That wasn’t very nice.” I pouted.

He grinned. “I’m not nice. Or haven’t you heard?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, turning away to let my raging hormones settle or die trying. “So, fireballs, huh? Any other powers I should know about? Especially ones that can singe my hair?”

He yanked me back to him, wrapping his arms around me. “There’s plenty you don’t know. But I prefer to keep an air of mystery. I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

He canted his head to one side before diving to my neck, kissing it.

“Although, if you’re hiding the fact you can summon a chariot with fire-breathing horses from me at will or something, I may never forgive you.” I snickered.

His lips fell away, and his grip tightened against my back.

“Ares?”

“About this fated bond…” He gave several pecks to my neck.

I pushed him back. “You can summon a chariot with fire-breathing horses?”

“Yes.” He slow-blinked. “But I haven’t had a reason in a very long time.”

I stayed silent for a moment, contemplating.

“Can I see it?”

“I’m not exactly sure the gym could contain it.”

Silence fell over me again.

He trailed a hand between my shoulder blades, leading to the base of my spine. “I promise I’ll show you when the time is right.”

And just like that, he turned my insides to goo and sent my nerves igniting into explosions.

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