Esher’s deep blue eyes turned stormy and his black eyebrows knitted into a frown.
Ares turned his gaze away from his younger brother, not wanting him to get the impression he was thinking about his past even though he was. It didn’t take much to trigger an episode in Esher. He was surprised his brother hadn’t gone off the rails when he had called him to New York.
His right eyebrow lifted as he surveyed the huge room. He wasn’t the only one who was late. Both Valen and Marek were yet to arrive.
Keras and Calistos lounged in the small television area. Keras had his nose in a book and Ares knew he wasn’t really reading it. He was trying to shut out the incessant gunfire blaring out of the television.
Calistos twisted the controller in his hands and barked something unintelligible at the screen. He raised his hand as though he intended to throw the controller and then quickly snapped it back down and hammered the buttons, his expression darkening with determination.
Personally, Ares didn’t see the appeal of beating up virtual enemies. It was far more fun to do it in real life.
The screens that normally covered the wall opposite him had been drawn back, revealing the two wings of the traditional building, the covered wooden walkway that flowed around the three sides, and the beautiful garden.
It was the one thing he had liked about this place.
The principle construction materials in the building were paper and wood, and the first few years after their arrival had been the worst when it came to controlling his power. He had spent a large part of those initial years out in the garden, avoiding setting fire to the mansion and learning to harmonise with his power so he had more control over it in its new state.
The extensive garden had been manicured to perfection, each pine needle trimmed until the trees in the central courtyard looked like something from a painting, with oval layers of green that wound upwards from curving brown trunks, and each pebble in the gravel had been raked until they lay smooth. Every boulder was laced with bright moss that looked like velvet as it hugged the deep grey rock. The remaining fading leaves of two large maple trees at the far end of the garden where it rose and dipped in small perfectly devised hills added a splash of colour, bright crimson against the morning sky. Most of the leaves had fallen, resting on the green moss-covered rocks and the grass surrounding the trees.
In the Zen garden on the other side of the wing to his left, the gravel formed intricate lines that curved gracefully around rocks and other features. He had often lost himself in his thoughts while staring at it from the hot natural bath nearby. The perfect representation of nature in the garden relaxed him.
Not a stone or leaf out of place.
Nothing but beauty in its purest form.
He supposed in a way it reminded him, and probably his brothers, of their mother. Serene. Graceful. Pure. And a vibrant breathtaking reflection of nature. Maybe that was why it relaxed him so much.
In spring, the cherry blossoms bloomed and he always enjoyed sitting on one of the boulders, soaking in the warming sun, the scent of the flowers, and the light playing on the koi pond that flowed under the wing of the house on his right, directly below Esher’s room.
When they had lived here together, Esher had spent hours sitting on the edge of the walkway above the water, close to his favourite element, watching the fish circle below him.
Their father had built this place for Esher, to give him a place of sanctuary and quiet in the mortal world, but all of them had benefited from it.
Daimon sat on the steps that led down from the raised walkway to the garden, staring at the sky as it slowly brightened.
Valen appeared and flipped off Esher before he could say anything.
“Yeah, I’m late. Had to send a filthy daemon back to Hell.” He rubbed the back of his right hand across his bloodied cheek, wiping the evidence of his battle away, and shifted his bright golden gaze to Ares. “You’re right. The bastards are getting annoying now, and Rome’s otherworld looks like shit.”
Keras sighed. Ares knew that his older brother was going to wait until they were locked in the middle of the fight of their long lives before he admitted that the daemons were up to something. He could deny it all he wanted. It was happening and the quicker they accepted that, the faster they could put a plan into place to stop it.
Marek appeared next to one of the cream couches, slumped straight into it and closed his eyes. He tipped his head up and rested it on the top of the back of the couch.
“I was sleeping,” he muttered, his voice gravelly and deep. “This had better be good.”
“Haven’t you found out anything about the daemon?” Ares crossed the room to the television area. “I thought that was why you wanted me here?”
“No, nothing yet.” Marek cracked his eyes open and wearily shook his head. He stifled a yawn. “I’m still working on it.”
He shouldn’t feel relieved by that. He knew it, but it didn’t stop him from feeling it. He had thought Keras had called him here because he had intel on the daemon and how to get his power back. He had thought his time with Megan had been about to end.
A chill skidded down his spine.
Keras turned cold green eyes on him.
It was about to end.
The momentary relief he had felt shrivelled and died.
“An intervention? Are you fucking kidding me?” He stormed away from his brothers. “Screw you all. Go fuck yourselves.”
He was not doing this. He closed his eyes and pictured his apartment.
Keras teleported straight in front of him and grabbed his arms, keeping him in the mansion, and Ares cursed the bastard’s power. Not for the first time either. Keras was so powerful that he could stop any of them from teleporting with only a touch, no matter how much they wanted to leave, and his older brother loved using it to get his way.
“It is for the best, Ares.” That voice, so calm and smooth, unfaltering yet commanding, filled him with a black urge to lash out at his brother.
Keras didn’t know what was best for him. He was only considering what was best for the team.
Ares locked his hands around his older brother’s wrists and forced his hands off his arms. He opened his eyes and stared into Keras’s, challenging him to do it, to try to make him forget Megan and fall in line.
Keras’s green eyes remained impassive. “Do not look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Ares squared up to him. “I thought it was strange that not one of you besides Esher would look at me. This is sick.”
“No, you are.” Keras twisted his hands and broke free of Ares’s grip. His eyes darkened and the sense of power flowing from him increased, pushing down on Ares. “You are sick, Ares. You have lost your power and you are vulnerable. Weak. She will be the death of you. Take her home.”
“No.” He stalked away from Keras, needing the space to stop him from lashing out. He turned on his brothers, catching the myriad of feelings in their eyes. He didn’t want their pity, or their anger, or any of it. He noted that Daimon had remained outside, his back to them, evidently wanting no part of this intervention either. At least one of his brothers was on his side. “You have no idea what it’s like, so don’t you dare all stand there looking at me like you understand what I’m going through.”
“We understand,” Valen said with a cruel smile. “She’s pretty and it’s been centuries since you’ve been between a woman’s legs. You want to fuck her... so fuck her. Get it out of your system and get over it.”
Ares growled and grabbed Valen around the throat. “You dare talk about Megan like that again and I will kill you.”
Valen’s fingers closed over his wrist and Ares jerked as electricity bolted through him and lit him up like a firecracker. He dropped his brother and growled again.
“Fight me without your power, and we’ll see who wins.” He rolled the sleeves of his black shirt up and cracked his knuckles.
Keras appeared between them and shoved Valen away, sending
him slamming into the back of a couch. He pointed at their younger brother, his look as black as midnight and daring him to step out of line, and then turned his glare on Ares.
“You know I am only thinking about what is best for you, Ares. You are not thinking clearly and I do not want to see you hurt.” Keras reached out to touch him and Ares evaded his hand, distancing himself.
“What’s best for me?” he spat. “What a joke. You don’t give a damn about what’s best for me, and you don’t understand. There’s no possible way you could... any of you.”
“We need you to get your power back, old man,” Marek said, calm and cool, and Ares closed his eyes. “Without your power, there is a danger we might lose you in a fight, and we cannot risk that. I will not let a woman be the death of you.”
“I know that.” He ground his teeth and frowned. “You think I don’t fucking know that?”
He knew it, and it killed him.
He had a chance to be with someone, to touch again without fear of hurting them, and he had to give it up.
Everything he had ever wanted was within his reach but if he took hold of it, he would be turning his back on his duty. He couldn’t be whole in both body and heart at the same time. He had to sacrifice something, and sense said he had to let it be his shot at love, because if he took hold of it and then regained his power, it would burn to ashes in his hands, destroyed by his own flames.
He hung his head and cursed in the mortal tongue, blacker than anything he had ever said in his own language.
“Take her home, Ares.” Keras again and he heard no emotion in his tone, no shred of regret over what he was commanding him to give up.
Out of all the people in this room, Keras should have been the one to understand most of all what he was asking of him. His older brother knew the pain of sacrificing love in the name of duty.
Ares stared at the pale yellow tatami mats covering the floor.
“Marek, are you close to finding anything on the daemon yet?” He lifted his gaze, pinning it on him where he still reclined on the couch.
Marek shook his head.
Ares turned his gaze on Keras. “When Marek finds something, then I will get my power back and deal with the bastard. Until then, my life is mine to live not yours to control. Megan is mine. Anyone goes near her or steps foot in my apartment without my permission, I will gut them. You try to intervene again, and we will go to war, Brother.”
He focused on his apartment and let the darkness take him. It parted to reveal the pale coffee-coloured walls of his living room and he stared out at the dark city, all of his anger fading to leave a cold numbness behind his breast.
What had he just done?
He had threatened his brothers.
He ran his fingers over the sides of his head and held it, his gaze on the floor at his feet. He had forgotten his favourite boots. Not as though he could pop back and get them without looking like a fool.
He closed his eyes and sighed, hoping his brothers would forgive him for threatening them and would know in their hearts that it had been instinct to push back when they had shoved him first. Daimon would talk them all down if they were mad at him. He would make them see reason.
All he wanted was a little time with her.
Marek was right though, and Keras was too. Not the part about him being a liability without his power but the part about him getting his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. It would happen if he let himself get any closer to Megan.
He scanned his apartment. Where was she?
And what was that godsawful noise?
He didn’t mean the rock anthem pounding at a volume that shook the walls.
He meant the death shrieks that were wrecking one of his favourite tunes.
He followed the horrific sound to his bathroom, unsure whether to arm up for a war before risking seeing what was happening.
The door was open and the shower was on, mist steaming the glass. He caught a glimpse of Megan’s dark hair as she turned and raised her face towards the jet of water.
He couldn’t breathe.
It felt as though someone had punched him in the gut and caught him good and proper, knocking the wind from him as he stared at her, mesmerised. She was a picture of perfection.
Well, she would have been if not for the bad singing.
She ducked her head under the water and he hoped it would stop her but she kept shrieking at the top of her lungs.
He padded silently into the bathroom and sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat, staring at her and catching tantalising flashes of soft pink as the steam evaporated and formed in a shifting pattern across the clear glass.
He should probably leave.
It would be the gentlemanly thing to do, but the memory of how good she had felt in his arms when he had woken this evening and those near-kisses, and his argument with his brothers, had him remaining.
He growled under his breath as she swayed her hips in time with the music and washed her hair.
She was all dangerous curves and smooth skin that screamed out for him to surrender to his desire to touch her, to kiss her, and more.
It had been hard to control himself around her before.
Now it was impossible.
He longed to touch her, burned with the need and desire to taste her and make her his.
Megan swept her hands over her dark shoulder-length hair, slicking it back, still singing and oblivious to his presence.
A smile curled his lips.
She seemed at home in his apartment now and had been very comfortable around him today, probing into his life. Keras would probably kill him if he knew how much information he had given her but Ares didn’t care. It would be worth it. He liked her knowing about him, and he liked it when she told him things about herself, opening her heart to him.
He liked having her around.
He had never lived with anyone other than his brothers, but he could probably live with her. She fascinated him and he had the feeling he would never get enough of her.
His brothers were right. She was dangerous, but he didn’t care.
The water shut off.
The line she was singing in time with the song ended on a scream as she turned.
Ares smiled at her through the glass.
Her arms bolted into action, one instantly settling across her breasts and the other diving down to cover an area he had dreamed about last night.
“What the heck are you doing?” She scowled at him, pure fury in her rich brown eyes.
His smile widened and she blushed.
“I was wondering the same thing.” He cocked his head to one side, raked his gaze down her, catching sexy snippets of her body in the clear patches on the glass door, and then dragged it back up to meet hers. Her blush deepened. “Why are you in my shower?”
“You can keep me here but you can’t make me live like an animal. I wanted a shower and who the heck are you to stop me?” The fury in her eyes darkened into something like a challenge. Did she honestly want him to answer that question? She spoke again before he could. “You do know it’s completely perverse to sneak in on women when they’re showering to watch them?”
“I heard caterwauling and I thought a harpy had broken into the apartment.” He lifted his shoulders and looked to his right.
His eyes widened.
Next to him on the vanity unit was a messy stack of clothes. How had he missed that? He stared at the garments on the very top, at eyelevel with him.
Gods.
Lilac underwear.
“Caterwauling?” she sputtered and he tore his gaze away from the lacy knickers and bra. “I was singing. I happen to like this band.”
“I did too before you ruined it with your caterwauling.” He suppressed the urge to smile when she sputtered again, mouth opening and closing, sheer horror on her pretty face. He plucked her knickers off the pile and held them out in front of him in both hands, fingers burning where they touched the lace around the waist. “Is
this what humans call underwear?”
They were tiny, and gods they were sexy.
He wished she had slept in her underwear next to him last night so he could have awoken this evening with her pressed against him in this lacy little number. If she had, he probably wouldn’t have made it to sleep. He would have been counting the seconds it took her to recuperate from healing him and then he would have pounced on her.
“Put those down!” She looked as though she wanted to leave the shower and make him do as she said but remained in the cubicle, hiding behind the shrinking foggy patch on the glass. “It’s the only underwear I have. Someone is holding me prisoner and won’t even let me get some clean clothes.”
“You want clean things?” He lay the underwear down on the pile and stood. “I will get you clean things.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, and he liked how she just wanted clean things over going home, was seemingly satisfied to remain with him as long as she had clothes.
It boosted his confidence and shattered his control. Her eyes shot wide when he undid his belt and popped the buttons on his jeans.
Her throat worked hard as she swallowed, her enormous eyes following his fingers. “What are you doing?”
He shoved his jeans down and stepped out of them, leaving them on the tiles. His shirt followed it and then his socks, and he paused for only a heartbeat before stripping off his underwear.
Her gaze darted to the ceiling and stayed there.
His heart thumped wildly and he wasn’t sure if he had the guts to do this. He had fought legions without any fear but the thought of stepping into the shower with Megan, the knowledge that he would finally kiss her if he did, had him trembling and hesitating.
She backed away as he approached the door and closed her eyes when he slid it open. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, teasing it and him at the same time.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” she whispered, sounding breathless and flustered, and not at all angry.
He stepped into the cubicle and slid the door closed behind him. Her eyes opened and met his, her dilated pupils gobbling up her irises. She swallowed again and her eyes betrayed her, dropping to his chest and then lower before shooting back up to his.
Ares Page 17
