Ares

by Heaton, Felicity

  “Answer my brother,” Daimon said and the ice spread to Amaury’s shoulders, encasing them in sharp thick claws.

  Amaury snarled and tried to move but Daimon held him.

  The daemon tipped his head back. “What are you waiting for?”

  Ares frowned. “You want to die?”

  “No.” Amaury’s hazel eyes widened, wild with fear all of a sudden. They darted around the quiet street and then up again. “No. This is their fault. Not mine!”

  Ares exchanged a confused glance with Daimon.

  Amaury glared and spat black blood at him. “This is your fault. You shouldn’t have been there. I could have taken her. Drink of her blood and eat of her flesh. It’s the only way to heal any wound instantly.”

  Ares growled, his patience snapping with the thought of this daemon killing Megan and desecrating her body like that. He slammed a fiery punch into Amaury’s jaw, knocking him to his right and out of Daimon’s grip. He hit the floor and the ice around his shoulders and neck shattered.

  Amaury instantly pushed himself up with his right arm but Daimon was on him before he could make a move to escape, grabbing the back of his leather jacket and pulling him back onto his knees in front of Ares.

  “You will never touch her,” Ares snarled and drew his fist back again, hunger to strike the daemon and kill him driving him to the edge. “Megan belongs to me now. She is mine to protect and you will die for trying to harm her.”

  Amaury’s wild eyes widened further and he shook his head, his gaze leaping around between Ares, Megan and the buildings surrounding them.

  He flung his head back. “Do not abandon me.”

  Ares grasped Amaury’s throat and shook him again, making sure he had his attention because he needed him to answer this next question. “Are you part of the uprising?”

  Amaury stilled, his eyes drifted down to meet Ares’s, and he stared at him, calm again, a sense of resignation rolling off him.

  He lunged at Ares, his words a black snarl. “You forced their hand.”

  Amaury halted as if suddenly frozen and then his head snapped back, his eyes locked on the dark sky and his irises glowed bright purple. Daimon leaped back at the same time as Ares, moving to a safe distance.

  Dark purple and black smoke bled out of Amaury’s chest and his open mouth and eyes, and he withered before Ares’s eyes, his skin crumpling as it blackened.

  This was not good.

  There was only one reason a daemon’s soul would suddenly exit his body and that was if it was being drawn out of him, and there was only one daemon species in this world with a penchant for sucking on souls.

  One Ares did not want to tangle with.

  “Guys,” Megan said and Ares shot a glance over his shoulder to her, heart slamming against his chest.

  It eased when he saw she was fine but started drumming harder again when her eyes remained locked on the sky.

  He looked in the direction of her gaze. The smoke rising from Amaury curled upwards and then across, heading into the darkness.

  Towards a silhouette of a man with a pair of glowing purple eyes.

  “Wraith,” Ares snarled and Daimon growled with him, muttering dark words under his breath.

  The man’s bright violet eyes shifted to Ares and then he disappeared.

  Amaury crumbled into dust.

  The battle was over.

  But the war had just begun.

  CHAPTER 26

  Darkness embraced Ares, swirling around him, a cold but comforting touch that soothed him as it briefly connected him to the Underworld. The connection severed and the mortal world appeared again, the pale coffee-coloured walls of his apartment comforting him more than the link to his world had, easing his fatigue and instilling a sense of calm in him.

  Megan would be safer here, but not safe enough to satisfy him.

  His entire body ached, pain throbbing through his bones, and his left shoulder and arm hurt. He had taken a severe beating tonight and had come close to losing the fight, and Megan wasn’t even safe.

  Amaury hadn’t intended to take her power using his ability.

  He had intended to use her blood and her flesh to grant him and others the power to instantly regenerate, and that meant that Megan was still in danger even though the daemon was dead.

  Killed by another daemon to protect whoever else was behind what was happening.

  Ares had left Keras and the others in Tokyo when Megan had fallen asleep on the couch in the television area of the ancient mansion.

  Daimon had offered to catch him up on the discussion about Amaury and the wraith, and what they all agreed was about to hit their lives, and none of his brothers had protested about him leaving. He was grateful for that but he knew it would be a long time before they accepted her into the close-knit circle he was part of with them.

  Esher alone would stop it from happening and Ares would never pain his younger brother by forcing Megan upon the group or pressing for her to be allowed to participate in meetings. He had only brought her tonight because they had come straight from the fight with Amaury, neither he nor Daimon willing to waste a second when they both felt as though a clock was ticking, counting down to the next attack.

  Many of his brothers probably felt that he should have stayed, but Megan needed her rest. He wasn’t sure whether she had recovered from healing both him and his brother yet.

  She murmured in his arms, her head nestled against his right shoulder, her soft breath skating over his neck. She still wore his coat, buttoned down her front now to keep her warm while she slept and protected from his fire.

  His left arm had protested from the moment he had risked picking her up but the incredible sight of her in his embrace, unharmed by his fire, had driven the pain to the back of his mind.

  It was strange to see her there when he could feel his power racing through his veins, shimmering close to his skin.

  It wasn’t just her power that protected her from his fire. It was his willpower and his desire to control his flames around her too.

  It was his love for her and his need to keep her safe and unharmed.

  Whenever she was touching him, his power felt as it had back in the Underworld. A part of him but not one that manifested itself. He had to concentrate at times but he had a feeling that it wouldn’t always be that way around her and that he would learn to instinctively control it so she would always be safe.

  Megan murmured and her eyes slowly opened, their rich brown depths soft with sleep. She blinked, a frown crinkled her brow, and then she looked around them at the apartment. Her gaze sought his.

  “We’re home.”

  Ares liked that. It drew a smile to his lips.

  “Home?” he said, unable to stop himself from questioning her choice of words when he wanted to hear her say that she had called it that on purpose.

  She smiled sheepishly. “I have this impression that you’re not going to let me out of your sight, so I figured I might as well get used to calling this my home.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He set her down on her feet and she stretched. She was right. “I’m never going to leave you alone again. I want you by my side, where I can see you and know you’re safe.”

  Megan pressed her hands to his stomach, tiptoed and rewarded him with a slow kiss that threatened to crank his temperature up. He couldn’t believe that he could still do this with her.

  He savoured each sweep of her lips over his and puff of air that caressed them.

  The throbbing in his bones subsided, replaced by a different sort of ache, one that made warmth curl through him and had his thoughts diving down a route that probably wasn’t the wisest one he could take right now. She was tired and he still hadn’t fully regained control of his fire.

  Making love with her would have to wait.

  She caught hold of his hands, broke away from him and started walking backwards, luring him towards the bedroom.

  “I’m sleepy,” she said but something in her eyes
told him that sleep was the last thing on her mind.

  “I’ve been fighting.” He looked himself over, drawing her attention to the tears in his clothes and the still healing flesh beneath them. “I stink.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t smell.”

  “You say that now, while I’m dressed. Believe me, I reek and I’m covered in blood. I’ll take a shower while you get some rest.”

  She didn’t look as though she was going to go along with that. In fact, she looked as though she had seen straight through his chivalry to his fear, and was plotting his downfall. Her gaze slid to the bathroom on her right.

  She dropped his left hand and tightened her grip on his right, and diverted towards the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” he said, his voice tight and nerves getting the better of him.

  He wanted to kiss her and touch her, wanted to do everything the invite in her eyes had asked of him, but he wasn’t sure whether he would hurt her if things turned passionate between them.

  “I’m going to finish what we started that day when you first kissed me.”

  He frowned at the back of her head, part of him saying to go for it and the rest telling him it was a bad idea. “It might be dangerous now. I don’t know if I can fully control my power yet.”

  She smiled over her shoulder, her dark eyes bright with mischief and desire as her shoulder-length dark hair fell away to reveal her face. “What better place to do a test run then... you’re hardly going to burn me in the shower.”

  He grinned. He loved the way his woman thought.

  She paused in the middle of the bathroom and he leaned against the doorframe as she stripped off, tossing his long black coat on the floor. Her dark jumper and t-shirt followed, and then her trainers and jeans, until she stood before him in only crimson underwear.

  He gave up the fight, just as he always would when it came to her. He would always end up doing whatever she wanted because he wanted her to be happy.

  And he could put a damn big smile on her face.

  He grabbed the hem of his ruined black t-shirt with his right hand and winced as he tried to pull it over his head. She crossed the room to him and helped him remove it, bringing it over his head and right arm first, and then carefully down his left. She frowned and smoothed her fingers over his left arm and pectoral. The skin had healed but the flesh beneath was tender and ached as she gently pressed with her fingertips.

  “You sure you’re up to this?” she whispered and glanced up into his eyes.

  “It was your idea,” he countered and she blushed, cheeks flushing dark pink and making him want to kiss her.

  So he did.

  He lowered his head and captured her lips with his, kissing her slowly and building the heat between them as she worked on his jeans. His hard length throbbed as she brushed it, and then she pushed his jeans and underwear down to his feet. He focused, concentrating on subduing his fire so he wouldn’t hurt her, and kicked his boots off, followed by his jeans and underwear.

  Megan unhooked her bra and he groaned at the sight of her firm breasts tipped with dark pink buds that cried out for him to wrap his lips around them and suck until she moaned his name in that breathy way that always made him want to moan too.

  She pushed her red panties down and stepped out of them, and then slid the door of the double-width shower cubicle open. He followed her into it and twisted the knob to get the water flowing, fearing that if he didn’t douse himself soon he would combust from just looking at her.

  She stepped under the jet of warm water and tipped her head back, letting it cascade over her dark hair. She slicked it back, away from her face, and opened her eyes and brought them down to him. Her pupils swallowed the colour in her irises, speaking to him of passion and hungers that he ached to satisfy.

  When she reached out and curled her fingers around his cock, he groaned and shuddered, and couldn’t stop himself from moving. He closed the distance between them, the water bouncing off her shoulders and spraying over his chest.

  She slid her hand down his hard length and then turned away from him and grabbed the shower gel.

  “So, I’ll wash you like I would have then and we’ll go to bed, right?” she said.

  He stared at her, a low growl issuing from his throat that surprised him.

  There was no way he was going to let her idea about finishing what they started in the shower that day be so chaste and sweet. He had come into this shower on the proviso that they would get naked and things would get wicked, and that was exactly the way they were going to go.

  He pulled the bottle of gel from her grip and she reached for it. He held it above his head and she glared at him and settled her hands on her hips, drawing his gaze down the length of her body. Water ran over her smooth skin and his hands itched to mimic it and travel wherever it had touched.

  He didn’t realise that her distraction had caused him to relax and in turn made him lower his hand to within her reach until she had grabbed the shower gel from him.

  “Wash first, play later.” She squeezed a dollop of soap onto her hand and set to work, and it was maddening.

  The feel of her soapy hands slipping across his body, tracing every ridge of his muscles, lingering in places, drove him crazy with need. He stared down at her, struggling to stop himself from grabbing her and taking her right that second. She knew she was torturing him. It was right there shining in her eyes as they tracked her hands, together with what looked like sheer delight.

  “You’re enjoying this,” he muttered, meaning torturing him.

  She flicked a glance up at his face and smiled. “You’re the first man I’ve known in this world who has the body of a god and is a god... let me enjoy it. I could spend hours just touching you like this.”

  That was it. There was no way he could take hours of her tracing her fingers over his flesh. “Wash time is over. Playtime begins now.”

  He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his soapy chest. She opened her mouth to protest but he swooped on it and kissed her. Her words came out as a throaty moan and she dropped the bottle. It clattered around his feet and he backed her under the water, letting it rain down on them.

  His left shoulder burned but he ignored it and skimmed his hand down her side. He pressed her against the tiles beneath the jet and dipped his hand lower, sliding over her wet stomach and down to the apex of her thighs. She clutched his upper arms and moaned into his mouth again, tiptoeing and pushing herself up the tiles, inviting him closer.

  He slipped his fingers into her plush petals, found her aroused nub and groaned as his cock pulsed against her side. She wriggled against it, rubbing him, driving him further out of his mind. Heat blazed through him and he struggled to keep his focus, afraid that it wasn’t the usual burn of passion in his veins.

  Gods, he wanted to be inside her.

  He moved his hand lower and she dipped, spreading her knees so he could touch her. She craned her neck and kept kissing him, more frantic now, desperate sweeps of her mouth over his that conveyed her need. It echoed within him, pushing him to surrender control and give himself over to his passion.

  Her hands moved to his shoulders and she pulled herself up. His right hand went to her backside, raising her up his body, and he groaned when she settled her legs around his waist, trapping his left hand and his hard aching length between them. She moaned and tipped her head back, her eyes closed and a look of sheer pleasure crossing her face. He circled her arousal and then dipped his hand down and groaned as he eased two fingers inside her hot sheath.

  His cock pulsed, aching with the need to replace his fingers. He could do this. He was touching her without hurting her, and his fire was under control. He could take things further.

  “Ares,” she husked, her throaty plea enticing him to push away his fears.

  She tangled her fingers in his wet hair, twisting the strands around their slender lengths, and tugged his mouth back to her. Her tongue thrust past his lips
and teeth, and he slanted his head and joined her, fighting her for dominance. She rocked against his hand and he shuddered, unable to take anymore.

  He pulled his fingers out of her, grabbed her backside with his right hand and his erection with his left, and slowly eased into her.

  She still felt hot, burning him as he inched inside, sending him out of his mind as pleasure ripped through him. She moaned against his lips and pushed down on him, forcing him into her welcoming heat and sending him over the brink.

  Ares grabbed her bottom with both hands, pinned her against the tiles and kissed her hard as he pumped into her, long deep strokes that threatened to have him coming undone before long and had her moaning with each meeting of their bodies. She worked her hips against his, her feet pressing into his backside as he flexed against her, curling his hips to drive himself deep into her core.

  “Ares,” she moaned between kisses, the sound of his name whispered so breathily and sweetly sending a bolt of pure pleasure through him.

  He closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against hers, and focused on the feel of her around him, against him, until she became his whole world.

  The sound of their rough breathing drowned out the rush of water against his back. Her breathy moans of bliss tore through him, heightening his own pleasure, driving him to bring her over the brink with him. He pumped into her, withdrawing as far as he could before sliding back in and burying himself to the hilt. She clenched and teased him, dug her nails into his back and clung to him.

  He drew back and stared deep into her eyes, saw all her love and affection in them and knew she would see the same feelings reflected in his. His heart swelled, his pleasure intensifying, overwhelming him as he absorbed those feelings, took them and locked them deep in his soul.

  She was his now.

  Forever.

  She arched forwards and cried out his name, her body quivering around his. He thrust harder into her, focusing on the ecstasy on her face and the feel of her throbbing around him, and grunted as he found release, pulsing and spilling himself inside her. He rested his head in the crook of her neck and she held him there, stroking his shoulder and his hair as water rained down on them.