“This and this only, I swear,” Ares whispered as he came in closer and planted his lips over hers. Alena’s hips ground down him as her tongue explored the back of his throat. Holding his hand to the back of her head and the other to her womb trying to catch the small glimmers of life there, he thrust upward into her as she greeted him wantonly.
In the warm glow of the hearth, they made love until dawn. Until Ares’ throne was soaked through and too slippery to hold them. At that point, they moved to the floor by the light and warmth of the hearth to continue their evening atop thick bear hides. Together they ground, thrust, grunted and moaned until both of them were covered in sweat and spent to the point that they could no longer move. All they could do was to lay curled up in each other’s arm trying to catch their breath.
Alena fell asleep in Ares’ arms, her body pressed to his side, one leg curled over his and her head pressed to his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. Ares conjured one of the quilts from her bedroom with which to cover her. He had to take extra care of her now, watch over her, protect her even more than before. Softly Ares laid a kiss upon her sleeping cheek. She was going to make a fantastic mother, he was sure of it and he could not wait to witness it. Could not wait to watch her belly swell as his child grew, watch her waddle around the cave, and massage her back and her tiny feet when they ached. All of the things a happily expectant Father should be able to do and yet, Aphrodite let him do none of those things for her.
If one averaged it out, Ares would say that over the course of his 5000 years on the planet, he had sex anywhere from three to five times per day. That was a lot of sex, so to him the 2000 or so children he spawned were not very many. Ares would be the first to admit he didn’t care about the vast majority of those children as overall there wasn’t anything special about them or their mothers. Olympian traits didn’t always carry to the next generation; as such most of the children Ares produced were mere mortals with no talents or powers. Ares did not even know the names of those children nor did he want to. The only children Ares ever wanted or cared about to any extent were those Aphrodite gave to him, but she would not let him be a Father to them. Each time Ares had to stand by silently and watch his brother dote on Aphrodite in her delicate condition, thinking the child inside of her was his. Aphrodite passed all five of Ares’ children off as Hephaestus’s children for as long as she could, until their affair was uncovered and Ares stood bravely before his Family and finally claimed those offspring as his own.
Not this time.
This time he would be here for every minute of Alena’s pregnancy, he would comfort her when morning sickness struck, he would lay his hands upon her stomach and feel his child kick inside of her. He would cater to her every whim; bring her anything her heart desired no matter the time of night or how silly her request might seem to him. Together they would build their future, they would dream about the child and the family they were about to have. They would pick out names, make plans, and tomorrow or the day after he would go out to the woods and find a good sturdy tree. Ares would cut it down and he would carve it into a fine cradle.
Yet, Ares was troubled. Those too-slender hips of hers, he worried about how she would manage to pass a baby through them without risking harm to herself. If anything happened to her, Ares would go out of his mind with grief. “Now that you are here, you are everything to me, Alena. You are already my Queen but when this is over, I will make you my Wife. If you will have me. We will have the most wonderful life together, I will take you places you have never seen, I will see this worn down old world of ours through your eyes and the eyes of our child. I promise.”
Making plans for the future, Ares laid awake for hours holding Alena in his arms soaking in the warmth of the fire. Tucked safely under his strong arm with her head on his chest, Alena slept peacefully until she started to shiver. Thinking himself lost to his thoughts and he’d forgotten to stoke the fire, Ares did just that from where he lay. She didn’t stop shivering; in fact, she shivered harder. He brought the blanket closer around her shoulders as he embraced her snugly. When she started making little guttural sounds, he knew she was dreaming. He wished he were Morpheus so he could see what she was dreaming, from his perspective it didn’t sound good. She let out little moans and sighs but even his finely tuned ears couldn’t tell if they were pleasure or fear. From the way she was shaking he’d guess fear, and prayed he wasn’t the cause.
Zeus had a good look in her mind today, brought out her memories of Artemis along with the tip of those concerning Eros and Apollo. Alena could be dreaming about anything. For a moment, the chilly hand resting so sweetly over his heart grew rigid as it turned into a talon and sank into Ares’ flesh. The pain was bright; it made him sit up partway. Alena didn’t wake; she just kept on dreaming and clawing at him. Before he could grab her hand, she let out a scream that became a word and then several words as she tumbled over onto her back, arms outstretched to the sky.
“NO! Don’t drop me!”
In the dream as in life, Eros did drop her. On the floor, her shiver became a convulsion as she fell from the sky to the cold waiting ocean.
“Alena? Alena, wake up.” Ares shook her. “It’s just a dream.”
Just before she splashed down, Alena woke up briefly. She sat straight up with her arms and legs out in front of her. Her eyes popped open and she seemed to look around but she was still sleeping. “He was the nice one,” Alena muttered through the haze. “I thought he liked me.”
No doubt Eros liked her very much. Eros could turn into a boar, but for the most part the winged God of Love was the best part of his Mother and his Father. It was Apollo Ares worried about most. “Was he? And the other one?” Ares coaxed but it was no good. Before he could finish the second question, her body was on its way down to the floor. As she cuddled next to him, Ares found himself wondering if Alena, given the chance, could have fallen in love with Eros. Had Apollo not gotten in the way, would she be in Eros’ bed now? “Sleep, Alena. If you fall, I will catch you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The Devil Inside
Day One
Alena awoke alone on the floor by the burning hearth; she sat up to look around but didn’t see Ares anywhere. She heard the soft sounds of conversation and the shuffling of feet; this told her the women were awake and trying to be quiet. Gathering up the nightgown from the floor, she shook it quickly to clear the dust before slipping it over her head and getting up. She used the small crude bathroom on this level to wash up before making her way down to her room to dress in clean clothing.
Looking around the cave, she could not find Ares. Wandering her way toward the open entrance Alena began hearing the loud something repeatedly hitting another thing; in between, she heard heavy grunts. Making her way out into the bright sunlight the sounds grew louder, Alena followed them around the left side of the cave where she found the God of War, axe in hand, chopping wood. He was shirtless in the late morning sun, his masculine torso covered in a thick layer of sweat as his muscles bulged from neck to abs with each blow of the axe. Glancing down to his feet, Alena saw dozens upon dozens of split logs lying on the ground. How long had he been at this? Ares was concentrating so hard on his work he didn’t seem to notice her standing there. She watched as he set up the next log for splitting, swung the axe backward, and took a step forward as he brought it down hard. The log, at least two feet thick, splintered like a toothpick. Grabbing up the next log he repeated the action. While he was working fastidiously, his mind didn’t seem to be on the task. She wondered what he was thinking about behind those brooding eyes and why he suddenly found it necessary to chop this enormous amount of wood.
The next log split with tremendous force, one piece went flying near the pile, and the other hurled backward. Alena let out a cry as she skittered backward at the sight of the flying wood speeding toward her. Ares heard the sound and turned toward it. “What are you doing?” he thundered when he saw the flying log just miss
her.
“Sorry,” Alena muttered, looking at the ground and the heavy piece of wood that had landed only a few inches from her. “Good morning.”
“Humph,” Ares grunted. “Morning. If you want to make it to nightfall, you’ll move from there. What’s wrong with you? Do you know what would happen to you if this axe slipped out of my hands?”
That was an unpleasant thought and it made her shudder. “It won’t slip from your strong grasp.”
Ares swiped the back of his hand across his sweaty face while he snorted, “Even I make mistakes, Alena.”
The words themselves were innocent enough but there was something sharp in the way he said them that told her those words might have two meanings. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
Ares grunted again and shook his head. “What are you doing out here? I want you to stay inside. Go.”
Something in her told her to obey but curiosity got the better of her. Alena slowly walked over to him with a peaceful smile. “Have I done something wrong, my Love? Are you all right?”
No, she hadn’t done anything wrong and he wasn’t all right. Ares felt off kilter and that was a feeling he didn’t care for in the slightest. He had a massive headache and it made him feel oddly frail as though he hadn’t yet recovered from yesterday’s battle that made him agitated. It was bad enough that he been reduced to a weakness so great he was unable to stand, but to have to suffer through such in front of all of his women and his Parents was embarrassing, humiliating. It had been a while since Ares had engaged in all out battle and he discovered he was off his game. Alena saved his life yesterday, another insult. The God of War saved by a female Fey. A Celt. Zeus must love that though he had said nothing.
When he didn’t answer, Alena put her arms around his bare sweaty waist and hugged him. Ares didn’t drop the axe and he didn’t return the embrace. “I have done something. What is it?”
“You’ve done nothing; just go inside, I’ll be in when I’m done. Go on.”
Feeling deflated, as though she had done something to offend him, Alena kissed his hand and then wandered back inside the cave wondering why Ares was in a foul mood. That wasn’t anything particularly new for him, he was often moody but they’d had such a wonderful night last night. Alena waited an hour or more for Ares to come inside and when he did, he was in no better mood. She was waiting in her room for him when she heard his heavy footsteps approach her open door. Then she watched him lumber past it without even a glance inside. Determined to find out what was going on, Alena walked out of her room a few moments after him and was just in time to watch him round the corner to the throne room before she heard a crash.
“Damn plants!”
“Are you all right?” Alena asked quietly as she watched him rub his forehead after having collided with a lovely pot of Dragon’s Blood.
“You can’t just hang these things anywhere you want; some of us are taller than you.”
“I’m sorry,” she stammered and made her way to stand in front of him. It seemed to her that the pot took more damage than his head, it was cracked, and he didn’t have so much as bump to show for the minor collision.
“Why do you bring them in here? There’s no sunlight, they’re going to die.” With a shove of his big hand, it crashed to the floor.
“You’re right; I should have hung them higher.” She looked down at the pot and the sourness of the expression on his face and wondered what happened this morning.
Ares, still shirtless and pungent, took his seat at the head of the large table in his throne room. On the table, along with an ever-present tray of fresh fruit, lay the Staff and the Chains of Hephaestus. These items were soon joined by another tray, this one holding a large golden pitcher of Nectar. Ares poured himself a full chalice, drank it down in one long swallow, and then poured another before producing several large sheets of paper and several pencils. “Draw Cernunnos’ Hall for me.”
“Do what?” Alena stammered.
“I’ve never been there,” Ares explained impatiently. “I need to know what it looks like before I make my move. Draw it for me,” he said in a rather demanding tone as he held a pencil out to her.
“But I can’t draw anything but…stick figures.”
“I don’t care. Draw.” Ares ordered.
“I’ll try. For you because you asked so nicely.” Alena sat on the bench to his right, took the pencil and placed the paper in front of her as she explained again that she could only come up with the most rudimentary of drawings for him. She began drawing a large square on the paper. “The Hall is in the Keep and that’s surrounded by this wall.”
“How high?”
“I don’t know, maybe ten or twelve feet.”
“Judging by the way you hang plants, it’s probably more like fifteen or twenty, hmm?”
Something really crawled up his tight ass today. Alena ignored the bad mood as she began to draw again. Over her shoulder Ares let out a grunt. “What?”
“You’re a horrible artist,” he snapped.
It was Alena’s turn to grunt as she planted her hands on her hips. “I said I can’t draw! What do you want from me?”
“Bend over and I’ll show you.” Where did that come from? Ares back peddled as quickly as he could. “Forgive me, Alena, I have a headache and it will not go away.” Ares brought his hand to his sweaty pounding temple and began to rub. He thought about telling Alena about her dream but quickly dismissed it. It didn’t seem to bother her this morning but it left a bad taste in his mouth. That and the unshakable feeling someone was watching him. It drove him to distraction.
The headache eased while he chopped wood. It went away almost entirely as he swung the axe, and so did that unsettling sensation of being watched. He thought this strange; after all, he was outside on his island in full view of any magickal being who knew he was there and had a mind to take a peek. Physical labor always agreed with Ares. While the axe hit home time and again with thunderous force, his thoughts turned to Alena and making love with her last night, how much he wanted to do it again tonight. These were the very pleasant thoughts tickling his senses when he turned around and saw her standing behind him. Any other time those thoughts would have led him to drop the axe immediately, take her up in his arms and then gone off to a quiet corner of the woods for a long session of lovemaking. Yet when he saw her, the headache nearly exploded and he grew very angry. The anger was uncalled for, unwarranted, and nearly impossible to control. All she wanted to do was embrace him. Ares didn’t understand why he should feel this way when she looked at him with so much love, trust and openness. It took quite a while but the headache began to abate when she came back inside. Ares split wood until his hands were sore with calluses.
Headache? Well that explained things. “All that banging and chopping probably didn’t help.” Alena stood up and then stood behind Ares, who glanced at her from over his shoulder as though he were expecting her to plant a dagger between the blades. Instead of stabbing him, Alena rubbed her hands together and then placed them on his bare shoulders where she began to massage.
“Stop it,” Ares grunted and shoved her hands off his shoulders. “I need you to draw me this map.”
“I will, but first just let me,” Alena’s hands no more glanced across his skin before Ares stood up rudely and stormed over to the hearth.
“I need to strategize, Alena. I need to plan an attack. Are you going to help me or not?”
Alena was stunned into silence for a moment. He’d fled from her as though she had a red-hot brand in her hand. Not wanting to anger him further, Alena thought it best if she simply did what he asked and she resumed her seat in front of the large sheet of paper. She drew a cylindrical shape near the center of the interior of the wall but a bit off skew and as it was slightly back and to the right. “This is the Keep, this is where Cernunnos lives.”
“What else is between these walls?”
“Not much, not anymore. There used to be many cottages and houses within the walls
but most of them have crumbled away. There was even a blacksmith and a few small shops.” Alena’s voice turned nearly melancholy as she thought about the rather gilded prison where she’d spent her adolescence. “That was near the end, most of it was gone before I went to stay there.”
“Tell me of the Keep and the Hall. Draw it.” Ares ordered.
“I wasn’t in there very much. I lived here.” She drew a square on the map. It was directly diagonal from the Keep. “With Adrian,” Alena stammered. “I don’t know much about the inside of the Keep or the inner Hall, I was only allowed in a few times.”
Ares raised his hand and traced his thumb along Alena’s bottom lip as his dark eyes held her with an icy stare. “Is that how you got so skilled? Adrian?” As a small rush of air came out from between her lips parted by his thumb, Alena winced. “He skilled you for Cernunnos? With Cernunnos’ permission, or did Cernunnos leave the fox to guard the henhouse?”
Unable to turn her eyes away from his, Alena swallowed hard as an icy bolt shot through her as she searched for a way to answer him and wondered why she should have to. Ares never asked questions like this before. Then again, he never acted this way before. “What…difference does it make?”
“In the end?” Ares raised his eyebrows and his lips parted into a cool grin. “None, I suppose. Who else? Cernunnos, of course, I imagine that during his little visits he took full advantage. The other Druids? What about them?”
Alena felt small and dirty, a stupid lowly Celt. She was certain that she had been foolish ever to believe Ares would love her. “What’s wrong with you today?”
“I want to know who I’m sharing my bed with. So tell me.” He’d been so intent on this titillating line of questioning that he hadn’t noticed her flinching or seen her eyes reddening until now. Sensing that he was pushing too far, as he tended to do, Ares backed off the subject and took his thumb away from her lips. “Again, I must ask your forgiveness.”
OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3 Page 38
