The ground erupted, and she began to fire as she raced to the guardhouse, attempting to tempt the Germans to follow her—and the explosion.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ares called to her as he fired his own rifle.
The Germans were all around, emerging from the woods closer to the guardhouse. She estimated three were causing the disturbance, and two were now in pursuit. Especially when they became more immediate targets, since they were running out in full view across a small field.
Ares pulled another grenade from his belt and tossed it at the guardhouse as they ran by.
What she didn’t expect, was a store of explosives igniting, destroying the small building and causing more of a diversion than they’d intended.
The explosion rocked the ground, and Ares knocked her to the grass for cover. Fire, soil and debris shot out at them from the structure, sending dangerous fragments shooting through the air along with the bullets they were already dodging.
He landed on her, covering her body with his. “When I meant a diversion, I didn’t mean for us to wake up the entire German army.”
“Oui, but…” She checked her watch and the train’s whistle blew sharply just up the tracks. “We bought the few seconds we needed.”
That was when the train filled with ammunition crossed the bridge, and was blown off the tracks in a massive detonation of her team’s charges. Orange flames lit the sky and the ground shook with the blast.
Belle smiled and said softly, “Vive la France!”
* * *
He wanted to fuck her again, right there in the middle of the field with a burning building nearby, bullets flying overhead and a train blowing up into tiny bits of scrap metal. This woman had made sure the mission was won. She’d risked everything to draw fire from the bridge team to herself without a second thought to her own safety. His blood boiled at her risks, but then, in the name of the fight, he was turned on beyond reason.
His mouth crushed down on hers in a heated kiss, possessive and bruising. He wanted to mark her as his, the property of the war god—his warrior lover, his war queen.
She answered his passion with a fury, her fingers pulling at his clothes in her rising desires. He moaned, and as the explosions boomed through the night, the Nazis now alerted to their presence, he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was strip her down and lick every inch of her luscious body.
“Ares, we have to go.” She said against his lips.
“I just want to…”
“They’re coming…I hear them…the Germans.”
He paused and listened. In the distance, the Germans were racing to the explosion. He could hear the trucks’ tires splash through the mud, speeding to the area. In about five minutes, the entire area would be crawling with German soldiers.
Just then overhead, Ares spotted gliders carrying the 82nd Airborne Division, heading for their drop zone. They needed to secure the town Sainte-Mère-Eglise, a pivotal point that sat at the crossroads and rail line that connected Paris to the coastal town Cherbourg.
“Right on time.” She glanced up and he noted the tears in her eyes. “The day is just beginning. There’s a long morning ahead.”
The trucks were getting closer. “Come, let’s hide in the woods. We’ve set up a meeting area in an underground bunker to regroup.”
He nodded and eased off her. Looking over the shell of a guardhouse and the fiery mess of the train piled into the river ravine, the bridge gone, he was proud to be apart of this night. Gunfire was being exchanged back and forth between Belle’s team and the Germans. He could see more had arrived to join in the fight.
By the time the Germans could clean up the mess, the invasion would be over. It would take weeks to make the bridge operational again.
Another explosion crashed through the night.
Belle tugged on his arm, and he followed her back under the darkness of the woods.
German voices broke through the night, yelling out orders to capture the Résistance trouble-makers. They weren’t too happy about their supply train being sabotaged, and the guardhouse leveled. Ares chuckled, and repeated, “Only the beginning.”
He ran behind Belle as she led him through the darkness, seemingly knowing every branch and bush. Behind him, another box of ammunition exploded from the train. But that didn’t concern him. It was the sound of the soldiers closing in.
Fear should be coursing through him—if he were mortal. Instead, he was rock hard and horny. Battle always did it to him, and especially with Belle jogging before him, her ass so smooth and round in her tight skirt. Damn it, what am I thinking? She was too tempting the way she courageously fought for her beliefs. He admired her for it…but he still wanted to ravish her, stealing her away back to his bed. His erection hurt while he ran.
“Come, vite, Ares,” she called to him in a soft voice, commanding yet feminine. It was a tone he imagined calling his name in the height of ecstasy.
He really needed to get his mind back on things. If she wanted to fight this night, he was going to do it with her. Not that he minded the combat. He lived for it, he was bred for it. However, he rather be back in bed, pounding out his desires deeply into her core.
Then fire burst across his shoulder. A familiar sensation of war, he’d been shot. Since the invention of firearms, he’d been shot many times. It was a shocking sensation compared to the slice of a blade through the skin. A gunshot wound was something he’d gotten used to over the years, and he didn’t let it slow him down. He was immortal. This was nothing more to him than a mere nuisance.
A damnable pain of a nuisance. Luckily, a fleeing one. Even as Belle slowed and turned toward him, the bullet melted within him, absorbed into his body, and the wound was closing. Only the blood spatter of impact would be left behind upon his clothes. Even that could be wiped away with the mere thought, just like he’d repaired Belle’s clothes earlier.
“Just up here is the hidden entrance to our bunker.” She stopped, appearing majestic in the pale moonlight that crept through the dense foliage of trees around them.
“Good, how long until your team leads my men here?”
She pushed back the branches that hid the small circle of an underground tunnel, dropping straight down into darkness. “They will come as soon as they can.”
He read the fear in her heart, afraid for the safety of her brother and friends.
She directed him into the tunnel, climbing down the slim wooden ladder. He wasn’t sure how far he’d have to climb until his feet hit the floor. It was probably about fifteen feet below the surface. She followed him. When she got down, she moved about and eventually struck a match, lighting a small lamp on a wooden table.
About the room were wood chairs and a table covered with maps and papers. The bunker was about thirty feet wide, and reminded him of an old wine cellar. Along the edges of the room were several cots lined up against the walls. Obviously, the people in this unit spent a lot of their time here, plotting their next mission to thwart the Germans and cause chaos. They’d strike then hide below while the Germans searched in vain.
“This is an interesting set-up here,” he said as he sat down at the table, eying the markings on the top map.
She worked at a small stove set to the side of the room. “Cold coffee sound good?”
“Coffee in any form sounds good.”
She handed him a tin cup of the cold brew and then poured herself a cup and sat down across from him at the table.
A sip of the liquid, and he thought he was in heaven. Even cold, the coffee was strong and bitter, just how he liked it. Humans outdid themselves when they discovered coffee. “Delicious.”
“Sorry I can’t heat it up. We can’t chance them discovering our hideout, especially tonight.”
He noted the stove’s smoke stack that ran up the wall and disappeared into the ceiling. Taking another sip, he glanced again at the map. “How far are we from Sainte- Mère-Eglise?”
“About ten miles. Why?”
&nb
sp; He hesitated to say what his next objective was for the morning. “I was ordered that once the train and bridge were eliminated, I was to lead my team to join up with the rest of my unit and assist in securing Sainte-Mère-Eglise.”
She sat her cup onto the table. “You leaving me?”
He shook his head and reached across the table for her hand. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere without you by my side.”
Chapter Seven
For a second, she thought he’d leave her behind. Even if her mission was complete, the day was only beginning. She was ready to continue the fight.
“Hopefully Jean-Luis and the rest will get here within the hour. Then we can make plans to go to Mère-Eglise.” She paused a moment then asked, “Are we to destroy the railway there?”
“No, the opposite. H.Q. determined that Sainte-Mère-Eglise is a pivotal point in the success of the landings. For the Americans to secure the town, and control the transport of the railway and crossroads there, it would mean better chances of a victory at the beaches in the morning.”
“That town has been under heavy German control for a long time, since they invaded years ago. I am sure I can speak with some of the town people to help you.” She glanced down into her coffee. “We hate the Nazis. They persecuted us for years. They kill us without thought. If they find one of their soldiers dead, they’d kill one hundred civilians in retribution and fifty civilians if one of their soldiers is wounded.”
“The Nazis are led by a twisted man that even Zeus abhors. They are brainwashed by a lunatic who feels he is a god, able to judge the worthiness of others. Such a man and government system should never have come into power.”
“Be as it may, we will do whatever it takes to help the Americans and British with their plans.”
He glanced about the room noting the chests pushed beneath the cots. “Guns in those? Bullets?”
“Oui, the Americans would drop us supplies periodically so we could continue our fight from within as they prepared for today. We’ve waited a long time to finally get the message that the invasion was coming.”
They sat in silence as they drank their coffee. He was an enigma even as only an hour before, she was naked in his arms in a world far beyond her dreams—beyond her comprehension. This was turning out to be more than a night of fighting, it was changing her life in a way she’d never expected. She gazed at his face, the man who parachuted into her life only a while ago, claiming he was a god, and she believed him.
She noted the blood on his jacket before he sat at the table. Having seen blood so many times before, you could never be too sure if it was splashed or seeping from a wound beneath the fabric. But he moved with no apparent pain, no acknowledgement of a wound. She saw the hole from the bullet, and he didn’t indicate any reaction.
But then, he was Ares, a god of war. Would he be able to heal so quickly? He clothes were not tattered from her encounter with the guard. Everything else during the night was unbelievable, so why not this? He was what he claimed, an immortal god.
And she was falling for him.
Death. Destruction. Misery. Fear. They all were wrapped up in the night, and she found time to fall in love despite the pain and madness.
With a god.
“Tell me, how many wars have you taken part in?” She was curious if Ares, a god of war, would have been to them all.
He sighed. “I’ve lost count. I am usually there when the action happens, right through until peace is declared. Of course, that is never really for long. No one can live in peace, not even the gods.” He laughed softly, and added, “The gods are sometimes worse than the humans with their wars.”
“But, what do you remember? Tell me, what battles were you in?”
He rolled back his head and breathed deeply the moist air of the former wine cellar. “I’ve seen Troy fall to the Greeks, the Norman Conquest of England at the Battle of Hastings, Marc Antony’s defeat in the Battle of Actium, King Richard’s doomed Crusades, Queen Elizabeth’s victory over the Spanish Armada, Napoleon’s failure at Waterloo, George Custer’s death at the Battle of Little Big Horn, and the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. These are only some of the wars I’ve taken part in. I’ve seen a lot of death and destruction.”
So much death and war. So much history. She couldn’t even comprehend the massive knowledge and experience this man held. She could only relate to the most recent history he’d mentioned. “You were at Pearl that morning?”
He nodded solemnly. “I knew what was coming. That morning I was aboard the USS Tennessee when we spotted the planes. I had tried to warn my commanding officer of my feelings of unease about an attack only about thirty minutes before. But, it had gone unheeded. I really dislike sneak attacks.”
“What about tonight? This is a sneak attack.”
“But, we are already at war. The Nazis know we are coming, they just don’t know when.”
“How come you weren’t in a position of power, like a commander?”
“I’ve learned long ago that a position of authority in a war makes you a target. I don’t wish to have my name included in history books as turning the tides of war. I want to just go with the battle as things unfold. I don’t even use my powers while in battle. Causes too many questions. I live it out like any other soldier, then I move on to the next one.”
She sat reflecting on the horrors she’d heard on the BBC radio about the attacks, and the terrible blow it was for the American Naval fleet. “What happened that day at Pearl was horrible.”
“It was bad considering the United States had no clue it was going to be in a war. The Japanese ambassador only announced the declaration of war while the bombing at Pearl was underway. Hundreds of civilians were killed because they ran to the base first. They were being turned away quick, because the base was a target. I’ve even heard of people hiding under their autos until the raids were over.”
Just then the tunnel hatch opened and a man began to climb down.
“Jean! Oh, Jean!” she called as she bolted up from her seat. Her brother made it.
“Belle,” he said weakly as he slumped to the floor.
Two of the American soldiers followed him down into the hideout.
“Jean has been shot.” She said in a horrified whisper as Ares scooped him up from the floor and placed him on one of the cots.
“We need a medic and quick. He’s got a belly wound,” Ares said looking up at his two comrades. “Where’s Marshall?”
Corporal Jones shook his head, his face covered in black grit and his uniform disheveled. “He got shot in the neck by a Kraut.”
“There’s no medic near here. The closest surgeon is in Sainte-Mère-Eglise.” She retrieved the first aid kit from under the cot and rummaged through for some gauze. “He’s bleeding so bad, I don’t think I can stop it.”
Jean grabbed her hand. “Mirabelle, I’m tired. Don’t waste time on me. Go on to help the Americans.”
She pulled the dirty shirt from his body and undid his belt, all the while fighting to keep from throwing up as the gore was revealed fully. There was a deep gash across his abdomen, where a sharp piece of metal must have sliced him. She surmised that Jean had pulled the shrapnel from himself in the field to continue on. Some of his intestine leaked out from the wound and blood oozed steadily. “I’m here to make sure you don’t die on me.”
“No. I don’t matter. Fight for France, not me.”
Ares got his cup and grabbed a bottle from the first aid kit. He poured a heaping dose of laudanum in the coffee and offered it to Jean. “Here, drink this. It will help with the pain.”
Jean sipped the fluid and then chuckled, “The last of our coffee.”
Then he closed his eyes and sighed.
Chapter Eight
Ares instructed Jackson and Jones to place Jean-Luis outside the bunker and cover him in a shallow grave. They really couldn’t afford to do much more. At least Belle would be able to find his remains once she returned, and properly bury him later. It
was more than could be said for the other casualties that would happen that day.
“Lieutenant Ares, here’s Marshall’s dog-tag.” Jones handed him the small remnant of the man’s existence. Such a tiny piece of metal, the representation a life lost.
In that moment after ages of being so involved in war, he gazed up at Belle and wondered if it was worth the fight. Was the life of a human worth so much? Belle sat by herself in the woods just within eyesight, grieving for her brother. And he stood holding the dog-tag of one of his men, the only piece left to return home to his family. Was this all worth the pain and suffering?
Why hadn’t he ever seen this before? War was a game, a human pastime for him. He took enjoyment in the fight, and never thought beyond that. In all his days, he shot his rifle or swung his sword, and he hadn’t taken account of the death and pain until now.
He’d know death was apart of the battle, and always accepted it. But this was the first time he felt a glimmer of pain—brought on by the tears of a sister weeping for her brother, and the lone dog-tag with a name of a man indented into cold metal.
He stepped over to Belle, careful not to alarm her at his approach. “I’m sorry, Belle. He was a brave man.”
“The best of men. He fought for his country. And his son will always remember him for his courage.”
Ares sat at her side upon a fallen log. “He had a son?”
“He’s two and lives in New York City. Jean-Luis sent his wife and his son away to the United States so they’d be safe. They got out only a day before the Nazis took over.”
“Will you go to the States once this is over to be with them?”
She shook her head. “I just don’t know. I don’t know what will happen now.”
When the tears began to fall, he took her into his arms. “Shh, now, sweetheart. Jean-Luis was brave, and he wouldn’t want you to grieve over him. He risked his life to free France. He led my men here even while he was dying, just so they’d be safe and be able to continue on to their next objective.”
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