OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3

by Lisa Beth Darling

  “Ah, oh, ah,…n-nothing.”

  That only made him smile wider. “I do so love the way you blush, Alena.” Standing there, seeing in her eyes that she was waiting for him to rub it along that quivering bottom lip. “Let me see those.” He grabbed a hold of one foot to see the sole sliced open by a jagged rock. “That hill is quite steep, I’m amazed you didn’t fall all the way to the beach and break your neck.”

  “Me, too.” Now that she could look back on it, that hill was nearly a sheer drop and if she’d had time to think about it then maybe she wouldn’t have dashed down it the way she had.

  Taking up a wet cloth, Ares swabbed her feet and got a better look at the wounds. It was very deep and the God of War had not been given the Blessing of Healing. Alena always wandered around barefoot and if she did that with the wound this way, it would never heal. Losing himself in thought for a moment as he gauged her wound, he suddenly felt her eyes on him.

  Alena didn’t know what it was about Ares, what attracted her to him this way. Why she couldn’t stop it. Sitting there, with her foot in his warm hand and the soft hair on his chiseled chest brushing over the skin on her calf, all she wanted to do was touch him. She’d still like to bite him but in little nibbles, and she’d rather start with a long session of her lips nuzzled against the nape of his neck.

  Pretending not to feel the weight of her stare, Ares said, “I think we’ll stitch this one.” Letting his smoldering onyx eyes sweep upward over her naked body, taking in the soft heaving of her breasts and the quickening of her heartbeat, he watched those long fingertips of hers stretch out toward him just as they’d done the night he removed the chastity belt.

  It was so hard not to touch him when everything in her cried out for the feel of his flesh, those wonderful mounds and ripples of skin and muscle gliding by under her greedy palms. Try as she did she just couldn’t make her fingers stop reaching for him, when they’d stretched as far as they could and still did not reach their goal, her hand joined in the quest and it reached out for him as well.

  “Something I can do for you, Alena?” Ares asked softly as he leaned in toward her just a small way. The chest that had captivated her stare pressed against her shin. Ares did his best to hold back the smirk when she held her breath and let it out in hot little gasps. “Do you want to touch me?” His eyes dropped from hers back to those ever stretching fingers, the nails of which were just starting to play with the hair on his chest.

  Oh yes, yes, that would be most wonderful. Just as wonderful as it was the other day when they were alone on their hunting trip. It took every ounce of reserve that she had to keep a lid on those thoughts and desires. Unfortunately for Alena, what she couldn’t keep a lid on was the wide grin that broke out on her face or the rush of heat that took over her body.

  With her foot in one hand, he grabbed her wrists with the other and thrust those wanting hands onto his chest. She held her breath again but this time he thought she’d hold it so long she’d pass out. Her fingers didn’t hesitate to begin grabbing at him, kneading his skin and looking for more. Leaning in so that his forehead gently rested upon hers, he let go of her hands and was very pleased when they not only stayed on him but also began to roam, he whispered, “You’re drooling.” Before she could respond, he swiped his thumb across her wet bottom lip to catch it and then sucked upon it, those full lips wrapped around his own digit before parting and then he smiled. “Women.”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer; he just picked her up and carried her back to the bedroom where he sat her down on his bed. He walked into the closet and when he came out, he was wearing a pair of linen pajama bottoms as he carried a small suture kit and another article of clothing, which he tossed at her. “Cover yourself, woman,” he said abruptly and tossed a bit of black cloth at her.

  “What’s wrong? I don’t please you after all?” Alena took the cloth, which turned out to be the matching top to his bottoms. “I didn’t know you were fond of pajamas.”

  “I’m not,” Ares huffed. “These are for your benefit, not mine.”

  “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

  “Cute?” Ares mused and stroked the beard on his chin. “Cute? No. Cute is for puppies and teenage boys. I am devilishly handsome.”

  Alena let out a grunt at the extent of his ego. Ego or not, Ares’ statement was still true; he was devilishly handsome.

  Grabbing hold of her ankle, he put needle to flesh. “Sit still, this won’t take long.”

  “Oh, really, I don’t…” She wriggled and tried to pull her foot away from him, not wanting to feel the bite of the needle.

  “I have done this before,” he tried to assure her.

  Alena kept wiggling and pulling, trying to get free of his hold. “Oh, sure, sure, you have…but…really…it’ll be fine…really…I thought soothing wounded women wasn’t your forte.”

  “It’s not, now stop it, woman! Do I have to tie you down?” Ares’ grasp on her Achilles tendon turned hard. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She blushed again and turned her eyes away. “That’s what I thought, now, just sit still. Can’t have you walking around on this for a few days with a big old flap of skin dragging through the dirt everywhere you go.” For the next five minutes or so, Alena sat there gripping the hides that covered his stone bed and gritting her teeth while Ares skillfully put six stitches in the bottom of her foot. When he was done, he wiped a clean wet cloth gently over the new stitches before turning her ankle so that she could see. “There, not so bad, is it?”

  Not bad at all. Alena tended many wounds in her time as well and the stitch work he’d just done was comparable to any she’d ever been called upon to do, and to most stitches done by the doctors in Boston. Still, her foot throbbed and ached. “You know,” she ventured timidly, “I understand there’s a stash of pain killers on the lower level…”

  “Oh? And what else about my island do you ‘understand’?” Calling a roll of gauze to his hand from thin air, Ares leaned down to look her in those beautiful gray eyes. “Been snooping around have you?”

  “Snooping? I wouldn’t say that…exactly. You did tell me to make myself at home.” To that, his upper lip curled as he began wrapping the clean cloth around the arch of her foot. “About those pain killers? Perhaps I could have one?” Alena wasn’t at all sure about showing any level of weakness in front of the God of War, who had certainly seen worse wounds than hers on the battlefields he charged over. Then again, it had been a long day and a painkiller and glass of wine sounded like right fine ideas.

  Tucking the edge of the gauze into the bandage he’d made, Ares stretched out the material a good length before cutting it with his teeth as he stared at her. Tying it off and considering his work finished he considered her request. “Why not?” In his hand appeared a lovely oval shaped white pill. By the sudden gleam in her eyes, Ares thought he didn’t have to say it but, “Vicodin.”

  “Oh thank you.” Alena grabbed it from his outstretched palm before Ares could change his mind, popped it into her mouth and swallowed it dry.

  “I was going to offer you water but…”

  “Sorry.”

  Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he shook his head. “Now, you will tell me how you learned to fight with so much skill. Tell me about your family.”

  The pill hadn’t even had time to kick in and she was already confused. Back in the bathroom, she had been certain they were about to seal this deal and now he wanted to talk about her family? “Pardon me, Lord Ares, but I thought we were in your bedroom for another purpose.”

  “I told you, we have much to discuss…we’ll get to the sex later. Or am I keeping you? Got a hot date, Alena?” She was a delight to tease and Ares could see himself doing this to her for decades to come.

  With a huffing sigh, Alena capitulated. “It’s just a family like anyone else’s.”

  “Mine, too,” Ares cracked with a smile. Sure, the Olympians were just like any other family as long as that family came
from Hell. “I heard such tales about you today Alena, they almost make me proud. Dae’Jave likened you to a lioness pouncing from the bush. Tell me, how did you learn these things?”

  From the time she could toddle around, Alena’s father, Norman MacLeod, had taught her how to fight. He put a fake sword in her hand on her first birthday. Norman was one of the Clan’s best warriors and he was at the time leader of the Clan. He lived in a great castle with many servants, but he came to visit with her often in the Fey Village. A few years after she’d seen Cernunnos rape and kill that poor woman and Cernunnos declared she was going to be his Bride, Norman MacLeod came to the village and took her away. He said it was too dangerous out in the wilds of the forest and he would not have his only daughter living this way any longer, he brought her to the castle to live. Alena didn’t like it very much; she missed the woods, the trees, the flowers, her friends and her mother.

  The people in the castle treated her as though she wasn’t even there; they ignored her almost completely. “They didn’t like having a half-breed around,” she said quietly. No, they didn’t. Not at a time when the Old Religions and the Old World were dying. No one wanted a constant reminder of what they had been hanging around. “He taught me archery, swordsmanship, hand to hand. But…even though my father was Clan leader, I am not a princess,” Alena asserted.

  “Princess? Where did that come from?”

  “That’s what Apollo called me,” Alena huffed. “I’m not.”

  “All right, you’re not.”

  “And I don’t know anything about Artemis either.”

  “All right.” Ares didn’t think Alena knew anything about Artemis, but he was certain his dear Family intended to use her as some type of bargaining chip to get Cernunnos to talk and tell them what he knew. “How did your father die?” Ares was well acquainted with the name Norman MacLeod and he’d even watched the warrior fight once or twice, though he’d never stepped up and introduced himself properly.

  “Cernunnos killed him.” Norman MacLeod had been very unhappy when his only daughter, half-breed or not, was tagged by the Old God to be his Wife. He went into a rage decrying that his daughter would never be the wife of that Horned Devil. “It was a great battle, but what chance does a Mortal man have against a God?”

  “None,” Ares returned, not meaning to be cold or uncaring as he was only stating a fact. At first he thought Norman MacLeod foolish for even trying. On second thought, was it his own daughter he would do the same. He would fight for her to the end. “It was after your father died the Druids came and took you away?” Ares watched her nod.

  “That night before his body was even cold. I never even got to say good-bye to him. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think any of it was important. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you.”

  “Did I say you were?” Ares asked, confused. “Apollo did, didn’t he?”

  Again, she nodded. “Yes. I don’t like him.”

  “Me either,” Ares snorted as he leaned in close to her.

  “He didn’t have any right to touch me, to ask me…” she was getting angrier by the second and she tried to keep it down. “Is your whole Family like that? Are they all sophisticated bullies?”

  “Pretty much. Sophisticated bullies, I like that.”

  “Well then, if I were you, I wouldn’t want to return to Olympus. I don’t think it’s all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Perhaps it’s not what your beloved History has led you to believe.” Ares’ eyes looked away from her and toward the foot of his bed where the chest rested. He held out his hand with the fingers splayed; the chest wobbled, then it levitated, and then it floated through the air right to him. As he settled it on his lap, he looked at her again and she was staring in disbelief. “You’re so easily amazed,” he whispered as he leaned toward her and opened the chest and began rummaging around in the box.

  Alena grabbed his wrists. “Those are my things.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t you have any sense of decency at all?”

  With a raised eyebrow, Ares looked her up and down as she sat next to him on the bed. “I gave you a shirt, didn’t I?” Not waiting for her to answer, he plucked the outfit from the top of the small pile. “Nice,” he said as he held it up.

  “Seven years ago it was; I’m sure it’s out of style by now.” Alena grabbed the dress out of his hand and tossed it back in the box. “Are you done?”

  “No.” He tossed the dress out again and to the floor. The shoes accompanied it. Then he pulled the small purse from the box and then the cell phone from the purse. He read ‘Sony Ericsson’ on the top when he flipped it open. “If I make this work, what will I find?”

  “The battery’s been dead for years. There’s no charge.” Picking up the old purse with one hand she reached out for the phone with the other but Ares batted her hand away.

  “I know how batteries run.” It was Ares’ turn to grunt and roll his eyes. “So, are you deaf or daft? If I make it work, what will I find?”

  Alena had to think about it for a moment, it had been nearly seven years since the thing worked. “Phone numbers, some old text messages, some pictures, some music…”

  “Music?” Ares tapped the phone and a little spark flew from his fingertip. The phone lit up. “Play me some music.” He handed her the phone and then rummaged in the box again.

  “Play you some…sure, why not?” Alena pulled up her small music collection, wondering what the God of War would like to hear. “Oh, I’ve got one for you.” She pushed a button and soon heavy metal came from the little speaker.

  There I was, completely wasted

  Out of work and down

  All inside is so frustrating

  As I drift from town to town

  “How’s that?” she asked.

  “I like it.” Ares’ head started rocking back and forth like any good head-banger.

  “Yeah, I knew it.”

  Breakin’ the law

  Breakin’ the law

  “Figures,” she huffed as she opened the purse and peered inside.

  “What?” Ares asked innocently as he pointed to himself. “It’s your song.” Pushing his hand past hers, Ares plucked the bankbook out of the bag and opened it.

  “Would you stop? You’re awful,” Alena complained as she reached for it but he held it out of her grasp. She soon gave up and went back to rummaging in the bag until she found the small hidden zippered compartment. For a moment she wondered if she should open it. Ares wasn’t shy about helping himself to whatever caught his eye but she wanted to see it one more time. Reaching into the compartment her fingertips closed around a small metal object.

  “Hmmm, what have you got there? Let me see.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Ares didn’t answer her. Alena showed him the ring now nestled in the palm of her hand. It was silver and had a very wide band upon which were two wolves with their heads nuzzling. Norman MacLeod’s castle had been full of wolf icons, from paintings and sculptures to jewelry and full-stuffed wolves. They were a symbol of the ferocity and strength of the Clan MacLeod. “Satisfied? It was my father’s; it’s the last thing I have of him. It belonged to his father and his father before him,” Alena said in a melancholy voice as she ran her fingers over it. Before Ceres Agar. She’d worn it on the chain with her Willow Medallion, but once there she was afraid someone would steal it from her and so she’d hidden it away. It had been a long time since she held it, and as always it brought comfort and strength.

  “It’s a fine ring, fit for a warrior,” Ares remarked as he watched the memories in her mind dance just behind her eyes. It was clear to him that Alena had loved her father greatly. “I know what this is,” he said slowly as he pointed to the open bankbook in his hand. “Why didn’t you leave that wretched place? Why did you use this money on them instead of getting the hell out of there?”

  Alena sighed and bit down on her bottom lip. “There are worse places in the world to live
.”

  “Yeah, like where? Auschwitz?”

  Why she stayed there was a long story and one that the God of War wasn’t apt to understand except at its most basic. “It was a good place to hide from Cernunnos,” she offered. “Why would he and his Druids ever look for me there?” When Alena stowed away on that cargo ship, she had no idea of its destination. She could have been going to Long Island or Bora Bora for all she knew. When she arrived in Africa she’d been overwhelmed by the harsh beauty of the land and the conditions most of the people lived in. It didn’t take her long to hear word of Sister Augustine and Father Murphy and Ceres Agar. They were good for each other for a while, Alena and Africa. The land offered her a place to hide and she offered its people the care and attention they needed.

  Ares thought her reasoning sound enough but there was more to the story; perhaps he would hear it one day. Closing the bankbook with its pitiful little handwritten balance and tossing it back into the box, he plucked out the wallet. “Who is this man? Do you have more pictures of him in this phone?”

  Called out of her pleasant daze, Alena tucked the ring back in its hiding place as she took the old wallet from his hand and smiled sadly. “You really are incorrigible, aren’t you?”

  “Who is he?”

  Rolling her eyes that sad smile turned happy. “Just an old friend.” She ran her fingers over the image and smiled.

  “Friend?” Ares leaned in close to her and looked down at the photograph. “You seem a little close for just friends.”

  Alena didn’t look at him. “Jealous much?” Out of the corner of her eye she watched his jaw drop and then it was her turn to laugh.

  At first Ares was insulted, he was angry, but then her laughter washed over him. It was the first time he’d heard her honestly laugh or saw a smile that lit up her face—bruised and battered as it was. He couldn’t help but laugh with her, laugh at himself. Alena put an arm around his shoulders and drew him in a little closer, she was still laughing. Ares didn’t think she even knew she’d put her arm around him at all. He didn’t hesitate to move in closer to her and take in the sweet scent of honeysuckle.