by Staci Hart
Kat unlocked the back door and walked in, clicking on the kitchen light as she dropped her bag by the stairs up to the living room.
Kiki followed and closed the door, leaning against it as she stretched. “What a night.”
“I’ll say.” Kat reached into a cabinet for a glass. “What was that whole thing with the body shot?”
Kiki pulled her ponytail out and shook her hair out with her fingers. “I don’t know.” Her voice was full of wonder, her green eyes wide. “He took me by surprise.”
“I’d say you took him by surprise. That kiss … what the hell? That was a little much, don’t you think?” Kat shook her head and pushed her glass into the water dispenser.
Kiki laughed and lifted her foot to take her boot off. “I don’t know, seriously. When he kissed my neck, I almost jumped him right there. And after it was over, he walked away, and I just stood there staring at his back, trying to make my feet move, and something came over me. That’s the only way I know to explain it. All I could think was ‘mine.’ I had to kiss him.”
“That was crazy, Kiki. And you should have heard Dillon. He didn’t seem very stoked on the prospect of you being in close proximity to his brother.” She took a drink before she could tell her sister what the prick had said about her.
“He doesn’t even know me.” Kiki pouted, and Kat was glad she’d kept quiet.
Kat leaned against the counter and stretched her neck. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like we’ll see them again. I don’t know how you could even consider it after Eric. It’s too soon.”
Kiki stiffened as she untied her boots. “It’s not too soon. We’re starting over, right?” One boot hit the ground with a thunk. “Plus, just because I have a terrible track record doesn’t mean I can’t find a good guy, does it?” The other boot clunked to the floor in echo.
Kat snorted. “Saying you have a terrible track record is like saying Hannibal Lecter just hosted bad dinner parties.” She crossed her arms. “How do you know that he’s even a good guy?”
She shrugged, starry-eyed. “I just have a feeling.”
“Because that’s served you so well in the past.” Kat’s eyebrow climbed.
“No comment.” Kiki wiggled her liberated toes and walked over to lean on the bar, changing the subject. “So, what was the deal with Dillon? One minute you guys were giving each other fuck-me-eyes, and the next you turned into The Bickersons.”
Kat took another drink and set the glass down on the counter. “He’s a dickhole, which is too bad because he’s super hot. Even with his face all cut up. In fact, that might have made him even hotter.”
Kiki giggled. “What did he do?”
She picked up her glass and put it in the sink, avoiding Kiki’s eyes. “He just said some off-color stuff, and it pissed me off.”
“Well,” Kiki said as she combed her fingers through her loose hair, “it doesn’t take a lot to piss you off.”
“True.”
“And you’ve kind of been on edge since we left Vegas.” Kiki hastily added, “With good reason.”
“Also true.” Kat gave Kiki a pointed look.
Kiki didn’t see it. “I wish I’d gotten Owen’s number. His brother shuffled him out before I got a chance.”
“Aww, did you get twat blocked?” Kat poked out her lip and pretended to wipe a tear away.
“You’re such a jerk.” Kiki chuckled and rested her head on her hand. “Maybe they’ll come back.”
“I hope not.”
“I hope so,” Kiki said, wistfully.
“I think you must be delirious from exhaustion. You should sleep.” Kat smoothed her sister’s hair as she walked by, heading for the stairs. “See you tomorrow, Kiki.”
———— Olympus ————
Dita stared at the wall, listening to Bisoux snore like a teeny tiny freight train. She sighed and rolled over for the hundredth time that night.
Kat and Dillon’s first meeting hadn’t gone well. Dillon was definitely an Ares type: angry, presumptuous, and a fighter. Kat was most definitely a match for him, but she was suspicious and a loner. The combination of their two personalities was going to make it that much harder to win.
But if she could get them in the same room long enough, getting them together would be a piece of cake.
Nudging Kiki in Owen’s direction had been easy, and she could use the siblings to force Kat and Dillon together by proximity at least. The deciding factor in choosing Kat as her player was that Kiki was Owen’s love match. The two-for-one deal was too much to pass by.
Dita could find at least one love match for anyone in their own city, provided that the city had over a hundred thousand people. It was part of the reason that she didn’t have to work too hard to win. A real love match was nearly unstoppable. Their attraction, the pull that they had on each other … it was just about a sure thing. She was always on defense — winning was just a matter of swatting away the lame plays that the other gods made.
She wondered, not for the first time, why Zeus didn’t find a way to change the rules to make it more challenging. Though he had tried for a while. It hadn’t gone well. The players either wound up dead or crazy, so Zeus went back to the old rules without a backwards glance.
Dita flipped onto her back again and stared up at the dark ceiling, her eyes straining to make out the lines of the patterned tiles above her, wishing for sleep and dreading it. She had been back to Elysium every time she slept, but Adonis still refused to see her. It hurt every night, even though she’d come to expect it. But even more than that, she was angry with him. If he wouldn’t speak to her, how would they ever work things out?
She missed him like crazy, but he was being such a massive baby about it that part of her didn’t want to see him at all.
Of course, an equal part had been without in the days since they fought, and she was antsy. She hadn’t gone without sex for more than a day or two since … her brow furrowed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone without. Dita rolled over again and punched her pillow under her head. Abstinence was not going to help her stay away from Ares. Getting into bed with him was like slipping on her favorite pair of jeans. Her lips curved into an unwilled smile at the thought.
Ares was a jerk, and he always been. It had been thousands of years since they had truly been together, ever since Adonis died.
Dita never fully believed that Apollo would have killed Adonis, or at least she didn’t believe he acted alone, even though he admitted to it. All signs pointed to Ares. She had even resorted to using a token on Ares to try to get him to admit he’d done it, but his story never changed. It never sat right with her. Ares was too smug, which for him was a feat in and of itself. But she had no proof, so she clung to Apollo’s confession. It was just easier. It was nice and tidy and neat, and she didn’t have to think too much about what it would mean if Ares was involved.
But she never fully trusted him and had stayed away from him for centuries, for the most part. When they were competing, it was almost impossible to keep her distance. Their need to win, to own, was nothing but fuel to their explosive relationship. He was determined. He knew what he wanted, and would do anything to get it.
Dita didn’t know if she could resist him this time and didn’t know if she wanted to. They had been companions for so long. They had lived through war and peace, watched empires rise and fall. They had loved, they had fought, and they had lost.
It had been ages since Ares had warmed her bed, which was probably about to change. And that was a thought that she should probably have been less happy about.
Ares couldn’t sleep.
He kicked his sheets off and rolled over again to stretch out on his back. The moonlight streamed in through his windows, transforming the room into shades of blue, and he sighed, staring at his ceiling, thinking about the competition. He wasn’t sure how to handle it. Not by a long shot.
Dillon was an easy choice for a player, but Ares agonized over the decision all t
he same. It boiled down to the fact that Ares had deep hooks in the human, with easy triggers, triggers that would set him off with little to no effort. Dillon’s father Jimmy was the same way. Worse, even. Like father, like son. The drunken Irishman was a rage-aholic who found joy in only two things in life: whiskey and beating the shit out of anybody that got in his way. Jimmy was a favorite pet of Ares and was part of the reason he was so attached to Dillon.
Dillon did his best to shut down Ares’ nature inside of him, but Ares didn’t believe he’d ever succeed. The human could play all day like he had his shit under control, but the god of war knew better. His influence was so deep in Dillon that he could be nudged and guided without being touched.
And then there was Kiki’s ex-boyfriend. Eric was the move.
Ares shook his head. If he used Eric, things could go south. Dita would go ape. And if he pissed Dita off, it would make it hard to convince her to stay with him for good.
With Adonis out of the picture entirely, for the time being at least, Ares had a window of opportunity and planned to take full advantage. He had waited thousands of years to win her back, and now was his chance.
Ares would have stacked the game and pick someone truly evil, like a psychotic drunk or a maniacal thug, but he’d get too much shit for it. They were such elitists. Zeus would berate him in front of everyone and say he didn’t respect the ‘spirit of the competition,’ and everyone would shake their heads like he was the ultimate fuck-up.
Assholes.
Even if he had picked a psycho though, Dita would have found a way to win. She always found a way.
He would probably lose, but at least he’d have her. And forever, if he played it right.
Ares slipped his hands under his head and smiled up at the ceiling. He’d visit her tomorrow, and they’d see about getting things started properly.
Day 2
DITA SHIFTED AGAIN, HER EYES never leaving the page of the romance novel in her hand about prudish regency-era aristocrats, holding out for some petticoat fluffing and drawer dropping. She stretched out and propped her book on the arm of her deep brown couch in her library, wondering how long she had before she was uncomfortable again. Reader’s cramps were relentless.
The elevator pinged, and she stretched to look over the back of the couch, rolling her eyes when she found Ares sauntering in, tall and dark.
“What?” She turned back to her book in the hopes that he would take the hint, even though her heart betrayed the thought.
Ares walked around the couch, moved her feet, and sat where they had been so comfortably resting. Bisoux growled, and Dita huffed, closing her book with a thump.
“Do you need something, or did you just come in here to be an asshole?” She sat up and folded her arms across her chest.
Ares smiled at her sideways. “Just wanted to talk a little shop.”
“Like I’m going to tell you anything about my plans.”
“Do you really think your girl can tame Dillon? Because the dude has issues.”
She scoffed. “Is that ever really a question?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re so sure you’re going to win, but you always underestimate me.”
She snorted. “Well, you don’t exactly have the best track record.”
“Maybe not, but don’t count me out. Dillon’s rage is so deep-seated, it’s practically genetic. And at the heart of his hate is me.”
“Dillon wouldn’t be the first jackoff I cured of you.”
He laughed, and the rumbling sound filled the room. “You can’t ‘cure’ Dillon.”
“Maybe not, but I may have found his antidote.”
Ares casually rested his hand on her leg, but his eyes searched her face for any signs of rejection. Dita knew what he was doing and let him do it.
He smiled. “We’ll see. How are you doing otherwise?”
Irritation crawled through her, and she raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking about Adonis?”
Ares shrugged.
She rolled her eyes again. “I haven’t seen him, but let me stop you right there. I’m not going to talk about him with you.”
He picked at the hem of her jeans, his face soft. “You’re lonely. I get it. I am, too. I always am, without you.”
“Ares, don’t,” she warned.
He turned to her, hurt. “Don’t what? Tell you that I want you? That I need you? You throw me away so easily. You were mine. And then you weren’t.”
She turned her gaze to the flames in her fireplace as they licked at the glowing logs lazily. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’s exactly that simple. He’s abandoned you.” Ares wrapped his big hands around her legs and hauled her into his lap. She couldn’t even find it in her heart to stop him. The moment his fingers touched her skin, she gave in to him.
The fire crackled behind her in the dim room, her hair a fiery halo, her face shrouded in shadows, but he could still make out every detail. He could have seen it in the pitch black, he knew it so well.
He slipped his hand into her hair, the other splayed against her back as he tilted his face. “Are you mine again?”
She looked down at him, and her lips parted, her eyes never leaving his mouth as she whispered a single, simple word.
“Yes.”
His heart flew as he pulled her to him, and when their lips met, he was home.
She wound her arms around his neck, moving to straddle him, pressing her body into his. He reveled in her touch, needing her like fire needs air. It had been far too long.
Her body trembled as he kissed down her neck, his hot breath against her skin, his strong hands that knew her body and knew how to get what they wanted. He grabbed her by the waist, flipping her over onto the couch before climbing up to her and pushing his hips into hers.
He hovered over her, his strong arms on either side of her, his lips touching hers again. Her fingers traced along his jaw, and then into his hair, twisting and tugging, telling him how much she needed him, and he kissed her harder. His mouth was on hers as he reached down and popped the button of her jeans, then sat back to tug them off.
He looked up the line of her long, white legs, to the small triangle of black lace. His gaze moved up her torso and to her face, to her lips, swollen from his kiss, to her burning eyes under heavy lids. He wanted to touch her everywhere, all at once.
Instead, he stood, eyes locked on hers. Her chest heaved as she watched him take his shirt off, his shadow dancing over her in time with the flickering flames.
She looked him over as he unbuttoned his pants and dropped them to the ground. The fire behind him drew a silhouette of muscle, will, and power, towering over her, and she couldn’t wait, wouldn’t wait.
She called his name, and he came to her.
He climbed onto the couch and ran his hands up her calves to her knees, moving them apart to kiss the inside of her snowy thigh, his hands slipping up to her hips as he made his way up her body. Her senses were on overdrive, the anticipation of him overwhelming as she shifted, hooking her legs over his shoulders. He ran his lips down the hem of her panties, and she flexed at the contact, pulling him closer. His hands clenched, and he buried his nose in her.
He had waited for so long and wouldn’t wait a second longer. His fingers twisted around the lace of her panties, and when he pulled, the fabric tore with a satisfying rip.
The shredded lace fell away, exposing her to him, and he looked up the line of her entrance to her bud before dropping his lips and pulling it into his mouth. She arched with a gasp. He sucked hard and released her, ran his tongue up the length of her and began the tease again. Her body rolled against him, fingers twisted in his hair, and he slipped a hand up her long torso and to the hem of her shirt, pulling to bare her breast. His fingers found her peaked nipple and circled it, flicked it gently, and she hung her head, eyes closed, mouth hanging open.
He let her go and climbed up her, wanting nothing more than to be inside of her. She sat and reached for his face, d
ragging him down with her when she lay back, releasing him only to trail a hand down his torso, down the ridges of his stomach. He braced himself with on hand as watched her hand grasp his length, stroke him, guide him to her, and his other hand found her hip. They held their breaths as he rocked into her, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers as they moved together, harder, faster until they came with a cry, together again after too long apart.
He collapsed on her and lay his face against her breast, his face rising and falling to the rhythm of her heavy breath, her heart thundering in his ear. And then, he closed his eyes and held her, nerves on fire as her fingers moved through his hair, hoping he could keep her forever.
———— New York ————
“Come on, Dillon. Please?”
Dillon didn’t look up from his hands as he chopped onions on the wooden cutting board. “Owen, you’re whining.”
Owen sat across from him on a barstool with his elbows on the surface of the kitchen bar and a determined edge to his voice. “Do I ever ask you to go out?”
He still kept his eyes on the onion. “No.”
“Right. So I think you should do me a solid and come with me.”
“I don’t want to go to a bar, and certainly not that bar.”
“I have a good feeling about Kiki. Indulge me.”
Dillon set the knife down and looked squarely at his brother. “Look, the whole body shot, kiss-action is one thing. But to go after her?” Dillon shook his head. “She doesn’t seem to be the settle-down type, Owen.”
“Maybe she just hasn’t met the right guy yet.”
Dillon tossed the onions into a pan, and they hissed with a satisfying sizzle as they slid across the hot surface. “Famous last words.”
“I can’t go by myself. I’ll look desperate.”
