Bound to the Battle God

by Ruby Dixon

  Well, shit. If the goal is to spend the evening gathering information and listening to rumors, I guess I'm going to have to sit next to someone. I move forward with my bowl—only to have Aron push in front of me. He takes his food and slaps it down on the table and sits next to the filthy creep, then has a seat. He gestures at the open spot on the far side of him—at the end of the table, where no one will sit next to me.

  In that moment, I could cheerfully kiss Aron.

  I happily slide into the empty spot and clean my spoon on the hem of my tunic. As I do, I notice it's quiet, but when I start to eat, the conversation picks up again. A woman swings by and drops two mugs in front of Aron and me, and a quick taste reveals that it's a watery-tasting beer of some kind. Ugh. I drink it anyhow, because I'm thirsty as hell. The stew is a little greasy but otherwise heavenly, and I devour mine with gusto. I sneak a glance over at Aron, and he's sitting, hood still over his face, idly dragging the spoon through his food.

  "Where you from?"

  I look up at the old man across the table from me. Bearded, scarred, but mostly clean. Seems fairly harmless, I hope. "Me?" When he nods, I think quickly. "Aventine."

  He nods over at Aron. "You too?"

  "Oh, my master doesn't speak," I say quickly, putting my hand on Aron's arm before he can talk. "He's mute."

  The stranger looks at us suspiciously, but when Aron doesn't speak up, he grunts and returns to his food. "Long journey to Aventine."

  "Definitely wasn't fun," I agree.

  "It true what they say? ’Bout the Citadel?"

  I pause. "What about it?"

  "Destroyed?" His eyes are piercing.

  I blink and feign ignorance even as Aron kicks me under the table. I kick him back. "I wouldn't know. Haven't been there…so. Where are you from?"

  "Here," he says, and belches. "Better to be leaving this place than arriving, if you ask me."

  That sounds ominous. "Oh? Why?"

  "Riots. Thieves. A plague of dead babies. Haunted fields. Take your pick," says another man farther down the table who can't stop staring at my clothed boobs. He's a bit pervy, but he glances over at Aron and makes his gaze more respectful.

  That all sounds terrible. "Why is it so crazy?" I ask, and reach for Aron's bowl of stew. He pushes it toward me and I trade him bowls, handing over my empty one.

  The men look at me like I'm crazy. "How long have you been traveling?"

  "A while," I say vaguely.

  "Haven't you heard? It's the Anticipation. Rumor has it that the gods are appearing."

  I make my eyes go wide. "You don't say."

  The bearded man nods sagely, as if he's been at the center of things. Next to him, the other man speaks up. "Has to be truth. Why else would the Citadel fall to ruin? Goddess Tadekha must have struck it down with vengeance."

  Aron snorts deep in his hood. I kick him and shove my spoon into my mouth so I'm not tempted to make a reply.

  28

  Turns out that we don't need to speak. Now that the topic of the gods has come up, the whole table's on fire with gossip. They all speculate about Tadekha's Citadel though none have actually ever seen it. They speculate if one of the other gods killed her and eventually it's decided that Kalos, God of Darkness, destroyed her because she turned down his advances many, many eons ago and he's apparently always held a grudge. Aron's totally silent so I have no idea if this is fact or not.

  "There's another god on the coast, you know," someone at the far end of the table speaks up.

  "Vor?" Another asks.

  "No, different. Said he won't give his name but I know someone that saw him. My wife's sister was traveling back from Yshrem and saw him. Said he was as handsome as could be, took her breath fair away at the sight of him. Beautiful eyes, she said."

  My skin prickles with awareness and I strain to hear the conversation. Aron's beautiful. Aron has striking eyes. It could be one of his Aspects that we're supposed to kill.

  "Did she approach him?" Another person asks.

  "No, he wouldn't speak to anyone. Had a female companion with him as anchor, but that was it. He wouldn't talk to anyone else. Didn't mingle. She said she wanted to talk to him and get a blessing, but she was afraid."

  I nudge Aron's foot with mine, hoping he's listening. "Was he scarred up?" I ask. "Like, say, Aron of the Cleaver?"

  This time, Aron kicks me hard.

  The man turns to me, his lip curled. "Are ye daft? I said he was handsome. Aron's as hoary and grizzled as the lot of us, mark my word." He straightens and thumps his fist below his breast in the sign I've come to realize is one for Aron's followers. "The Lord of Storms won't be prancing around the countryside with a woman. He'll surround himself with the strongest of warriors and challenge them to fight him every day."

  "My bad," I say quickly. "Maybe it was someone else."

  "Probably Gental of the Family," the man speculates. "Though what he's doing in Yshrem is a mystery. Those book-loving weaklings are Riekki's followers to a one." He shrugs. "Even if they have a Cyclopae king now."

  I eat some more of my stew, hoping the conversation continues on this line. I want to hear more about this beautiful god on the coast with a woman. After all, I'm with Aron, so they're wrong about a god like Aron not being with a chick.

  And I personally think he's beautiful. A dick, sure, but downright gorgeous.

  "It's the end of days," one greasy man laments.

  Next to me, Aron snorts again.

  Everyone at the table goes quiet. They're all watching us with far too much interest, and I figure it's now a good time to leave. "Think I'll see if this inn has baths. I bet my master would like one," I say brightly, a little louder than I should. "Thanks for the company, boys."

  A big hand clamps down on my shoulder and I yelp, turning to see a pair of men behind me. My eyes go wide as the one with his hand on my shoulder grins down at me. He's at least six feet tall and massive, with a dirty beard and stumps of rotten teeth. "How much for your master to let us borrow you for a night?"

  I try to shrug the guy's hand off as Aron gets to his feet. "I'm sure he'd say I'm not for sale—"

  "Why don't you let him decide that, tart?"

  Fuckin' tart. I'm really starting to hate that word.

  Aron moves to my side and pats my back, as if to indicate all is well. He's still wearing the heavy cloak over his face, but I worry it's going to fall off if he beats the shit out of this guy for touching me, and then our cover will be blown.

  "Master," I begin, but before I can say more, Aron puts his hand out, palm up.

  The disgusting man grins at his buddy and then reaches into his pocket, pulls out a few coins, and places them in Aron's hand—

  —or tries to. The moment his hand makes contact with Aron's, quick as a snake, the god's pale hand grips the other man's and twists it viciously. There's a crunch of bone that everyone in the inn can hear, and the stranger drops to his knees, screaming.

  It gets deathly quiet in the inn, and no one moves.

  Aron studies the coins in his hand, then flings them to the ground. Then, he puts a hand firmly on my shoulder and squeezes. The possessive gesture isn't lost on anyone, even me. He's branding me as his property without so much as a word.

  The stranger's friend hastily backs away, abandoning his buddy to roll around in pain on the straw-covered floor of the inn. I glance around and everyone in the inn is staring at us, even the barkeep.

  "Well," I say brightly, as if this is a normal sort of thing. "Where can a girl get her master a bath around here?" And I kick the guy that's down, just to show that I'm not afraid.

  The room I share with Aron is small and grungy. We're given a greasy-smelling candle to serve as light, a pitcher of water to wash up, and a pile of blankets. The mattress itself looks like lumpy straw but it's not the ground, which makes it better than where I've slept for the last week. The room itself is about half the size of my bedroom at home, but there's a massive shuttered window that's open to let
in a breeze. It'd be nice if Katharn itself didn't smell like a sewer and the view is that of the roof next door, which is so close I can practically touch it.

  I'm still getting used to this world and how different it is from my own. I'm grateful to have this room, thanks to Omos's generosity with his funds, but I can't help but compare it to hotel rooms I've slept in back in my reality. Beggars can't be choosers, though, and when the innkeeper shows up with a small wooden tub and a few more pitchers of warmed water, I decide that I like this place after all. I pay him for the bath, then shut the door behind us and lower the heavy wooden bar over the door to “lock” it. I turn to Aron to ask if he wants first dibs on the bath—

  —but as I turn around, I realize he's already undressing. Of course arrogant Aron would think he gets to go first. I should have expected that. I'm…not even mad, though? Because he tosses aside his cape and his tunic immediately and then I'm staring at a massive expanse of pale, perfect chest that looks as if it's carved from marble. It makes me feel curiously breathless, and I resist the urge to gawk. Funny how that after a week of travel, Aron still looks as glorious as ever and I'm like, entirely made of dirt.

  Of course, then Aron unbelts his pants and shoves them down, kicking them across the floor, and my mouth goes dry. He's completely hairless and as perfectly sculpted on top as he is on bottom. I remember touching him—vaguely, so vaguely—but seeing him naked again makes me get all flustered. His cock is thick and long and brushes against his thigh, and his muscles flex with his movements. He's huge. Definitely a show-er not a grow-er. I watch as he moves toward the tub in a few powerful strides and with a flex of his too-perfect butt, seats himself in the tiny tub.

  Damn. I blink repeatedly, trying to focus my thoughts while the slow-motion reel in my head plays back his casual stride to the tub. Over and over and over again.

  Aron settles into the tub, shifting his big body and splashing the water everywhere. He splashes a handful over his skin, rubbing it and completely ignoring me. After a moment, he looks over his shoulder at me. "Well?"

  "Well what?" I snap out of my dick-fueled trance.

  "Aren't you going to wash me?"

  Wash him? Is he serious? As I gape at his back, he casts another impatient look over his shoulder, his arms resting on the edges of the wooden tub and I realize that yes, he is serious indeed. I get that I'm his servant—of a sort—but this is the first time he's demanded I actually serve him.

  Maybe he doesn't know how to wash himself, my brain chimes in.

  Maybe he wants you to touch him, my other body parts chime in.

  I feel a hot flutter in my belly. Even if it's innocent, it gives me a chance to touch him again, and I hate myself for wanting to do it…but I do.

  So I shrug my dirty cloak off and pull one of the two pitchers of water near me as I sit behind his tub. I'm so close to him that I can see the beads of water on his shoulders. I swallow hard and wet a cloth, then lightly swipe it over his shoulders. "So…what did you think of all that downstairs?"

  He grunts, which isn't much of an answer. "I think they were more interested in how to get between your thighs than what's going on in the land."

  I drag the cloth over his shoulders and then rub the cake of soap over his skin, since I need to make it look like I'm actually washing him and not just drooling over his physique. "I thought they had some interesting things to say. I mean, some of it was garbage but that thing about another god being to the east?"

  "Mm. It's not enough to go on. It could be Gental, like they said." He gives his head a shake, his hair playing over my hands. "I have no wish to travel for weeks only to say hello to Gental."

  I mentally count back through the laundry list of gods that Omos made me memorize. "Gental is…the sea?"

  "Family. Home. Hearth."

  Ah. "Yeah, I guess he's not one of your closest buddies."

  "We have nothing in common." He leans forward so I can dip lower with the washcloth. And of course, now I'm noticing how much his hips taper, and how there's two dimples at the base of his spine where his glorious bubble of a butt rises. Damn it, Aron. I wonder if he's going to want me to wash his front, and I squeeze my thighs together tightly because my body likes that idea more than it should. "It's a lead, though."

  "We need more leads before we go in pursuit of one. Travel is not cheap. We'll need mounts. Guides. Supplies. Yshrem is inland and it will be a long journey."

  "My favorite," I say dryly, and then run my hand over his soapy shoulders. Shit. Why did I just do that? I make sure to use the washcloth for the next swipe, because I'm an idiot who can't stop thinking about touching this guy. It's just because he's so damn pretty. It's certainly not his winning personality, that's for sure. "Okay, so tomorrow we wander around the city a bit more? Maybe find another inn to snoop around in?"

  "It is as good a plan as any."

  I continue to swipe the cloth over his shoulders and back, doing my best not to pay attention to just how well built he is. He's a god. Of course he's going to be well built. If I were a god, I'd make sure I had a kick-ass body too. No sense being a total slob. Still…he's a god of battle and thunder. Did he have to be so damn sexy? I bite back a stab of irritation and make my movements more brisk. There is no sense in being attracted to this guy. None.

  Zero.

  29

  He flexes, rolling his shoulders as if working the muscles out, and the breath catches in my throat, because…damn. That one sensual movement just made my brain fry. Aron tilts his head back and forth, working his neck muscles, and then shakes his head, his long, dark mane flapping right in my face.

  That kills the attraction a little, I admit. "I hope you know you're going to do your own front," I tell him defensively.

  "Am I?" He sounds amused, and I can feel my cheeks heating. "It wasn't too long ago you couldn't keep your hands off my cock."

  Grr. He would have to bring that up. I throw the towel into the bathwater. "Fuck you, I'm done for now."

  Aron only laughs and takes the cloth up, washing himself with oddly awkward movements. "You are too easily offended."

  "Maybe I'm the one wanting a bath considering you've been telling me for days how bad I smell."

  "You can have the water soon enough…unless you'd like to climb in here with me?" He looks over his shoulder at me, and it's less of a sexy invite and more of a challenge.

  I think.

  Either way, no. "One, there's no room, and two, the only thing I want to do with you and that water is hold your head under until you twitch."

  He throws his head back and roars with laughter. Nothing like a little murder humor to amuse a god, I guess. It's hard to stay mad at him when he's laughing, though, and I move to the edge of the bed and sit there, picking through the bedding we've been given. It's scratchy and full of small holes but seems to be clean enough.

  "So we're staying here for a few more days? I kind of hate this place,” I say.

  "It is not my favorite, either," he admits, rubbing the soap along one corded arm. "Dirty hovels built atop the ruins of a once-glorious civilization."

  "Oh? So Katharn was not always Katharn?" I guess Rome went through several iterations itself. It shouldn't be surprising to me.

  "No. Long ago it was part of a grand empire. This place was once called Suuol and it was one of many great cities ruled by the Mephisians. The Mephisians were fierce warriors who took over all of this land by might. This land and everything surrounding the sea was dotted with temples in my name and that of Kassam, Lord of the Wild. They conquered people after people, and a great many wars were fought in my name." He leans his head back, contemplative. "I miss those days."

  "What happened to them? Why'd they end?"

  He shrugs. "All empires get too large and crumble from within. When the last Anticipation happened, the magnificent kingdom was splintered and lords fought each other over petty land squabbles." He looks thoughtful. "That was the last I saw of Kassam, as well."

  "Kassa
m? The other god?" I can feel my eyebrows rise high. "You mean not everyone returns from this little trek you guys are doing?"

  "Not always, no. I assumed that he had not finished whatever lesson he was intended to learn." Aron shrugs and gets to his feet, water sluicing off his pale body into the tub. "He always was hard-headed."

  "I don't know anyone like that," I say dryly and offer him one of the towels from the pile of linens.

  He turns to me and grins, wrapping it around his hips and then stepping out. "He will turn up eventually, Faith. When it is his time, he will return to the heavens."

  "Mmm. You done with the tub?" My skin's starting to itch just thinking about how dirty I am. When he nods, I get to my feet and start stripping off my layers. I'm past the point of caring if he sees me naked, or if the water's warm, or even if it's clean. I just want to wash my damn hair and get half of the grime out of it. I'd be real happy with half. When I'm naked, I plop into the water and then reach over and add the rest of the water from the pitcher into the tub. It's all lukewarm, but it's the first genuine bath I've had since I got to this hellish land, and I plan on enjoying every bit of it. I sink down into the tiny tub, my knees practically at my tits, and sigh, closing my eyes.

  "Do you have to do that?"

  I don't even open my eyes. "Do what?"

  "Make those noises."

  I crack open one eye and glance at him. He's got a perturbed look on his face, as if he can't quite figure me out. I'm about to ask just what noises he's referring to when his gaze flicks to my breasts. Oh.

  A wild thought occurs to me—did he watch me while I undressed like I watched him? I ignore the funny squiggle of heat in my belly and sink down lower into the tub, because the last thing I need is to get hot and heavy with someone like Aron. The incident at the Citadel already made things awkward. I don't need them being even more so. "Just leave me alone and let me wash, all right?"