“No, of course he didn’t.” Even if he had, how would he get in? “You can ask Onya and the other women.”
“Who would undoubtedly lie for you.”
She’s lying. Push her down. She let Eros touch her. Take a sniff between her legs. See what you find there. I bet his spunk is still fresh on her thighs.
“Perhaps I should take you upstairs and teach you tonight. A very difficult lesson, about being caught naked in the rain with my Son.” Before he knew what he was doing, Ares reached down, grabbed up a handful of the gown, and pulled it up to the small of her back before forcing it back down between her legs.
“Ares?”
He didn’t hear her. Thick fingers pried her outer and inner lips apart before sliding inside. He didn’t hear the whimper she let out as he probed her but he felt her cringe and it made him smile. While Ares felt nothing but the slickness of her, he thought it best to be sure, taking his fingers out of her he raised them to his nose where he passed them back and forth, as he took in a deep breath.
“Satisfied?” Alena asked in a quivering voice.
Eros’ scent was not here. Whatever that voice was, it was wrong. “Yes. For now.” Although he still had the urge to just shove her to the ground and take what he wanted, Ares forced himself to let go of Alena. He watched her scrambled to her feet and away from him.
“If there’s nothing else, my Lord, I’ll leave to your evening with Onya,” Alena said quickly and fled from the room and the God of War, grabbing the Staff from the table as she went. She ran down the hall to her own room where she locked the door against him.
2
Feeling edgy and disappointed with himself, Ares plodded up to his chamber where he threw the vest, shirt and sword to the floor before parting the doors on the wall and going into the rustic bathroom. After using the hole in the rock to empty his bladder of all the Nectar he had taken in, Ares turned around to the stone basin and the hand pump. Swiftly pumping cold water into the basin, he caught sight of himself in the mirror as he splashed the blessedly cold water on his bearded face. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked his reflection, glad to see that and only that in his mirror. Deep in thought and lost in his own reflection, Ares hardly heard her when Onya spoke from the doorway.
“You wanted to see me tonight, my Lord?” The young woman felt very strange about being here tonight. She liked Alena, she loved the idea of Ares and Alena being in love and starting a family, she didn’t want to be the cause of ruin for that lovely little image.
“So I did,” Ares said to his reflection more than to the woman not four feet away from him. “Come here.”
Wishing he had changed his mind, Onya stepped into the room and walked up to him. She ran her hand along his bare arm and tried to smile for him. There was something very wrong with Ares tonight and she was not looking forward to being in his bed. “What can I do for you?”
“We’ll find out.” Ares picked Onya up off her feet and sat her down on the edge of the stone basin in front of him. Once settled he pushed her legs apart with his knee. “I know it hasn’t been long but…have you missed me, dear Onya?”
“Yes.” Onya and the other women missed him already but they all agreed they would not complain if it meant the two lovebirds would be happy. They would be content to live out their lives here as nothing more than ordinary servants to the God of War and his Queen. Running the tip of her finger in the deep crevice between his pecs, she looked up at him and whispered, “Are you sure about this, my Lord? Alena…”
“Alena is not my Wife.” Ares shoved Onya’s hand down between his legs to encase his exposed cock. With the other hand he pulled Onya’s head back so fast that his knuckles smashed into the mirror and fractured it, showing him two Ares in return. The shards cut the back of his hand but he paid no attention to the seeping wound, instead going for Onya’s bared throat. His lips fell on the nape of her neck while the hand holding hers to his cock reached up and grabbed a rough hold of Onya’s breast, when it had securely between his fingers, he bit down on her neck like a vampire.
Every single fiber of his considerable being wanted to throw Onya to the ground and fuck her like a maniac. Yet, no matter how much he ground against her or how Onya groped him, Ares was left with one rather large problem; he was not rising to the occasion. That very disturbing problem was heretofore unknown to the God of War. Perhaps a little more oomph was in order. Giving her hair another harsh yank, Ares freed his fingers from it and brought the hand down to join the other at her breasts. Grabbing hold of the small patch of fur between those heaving mounds Ares tore the top in two and shoved it off her until her bare breasts pressed against his hot flesh and his fingers sunk deep in her soft tender skin.
Heat. Desire. Animal Lust. They all rose within him.
Yet, the outer part still refused to comply as Onya’s expert hands kneaded and massaged him from shrunken tip to bulging balls. “Get on your knees,” Ares hissed as he tossed the small woman from the basin to the floor at his feet and pushed his flaccid cock to her lips. Onya complied although he felt her heart was not in it. Her mouth opened, her tongue wrapped around him and she began to suckle and then to pump and suck harder. Still his hungry cock refused to obey his body’s wishes. “Harder!”
Onya’s head slid back and forth, as she took him all the way into her mouth and tried her best to bring him to arousal. At first she thought there was something wrong with her; there was definitely something wrong with him tonight, that much was obvious to anyone within earshot today. Ares grabbed the back of her head again, he pushed her mouth further down on him until her nose was buried in that coarse patch of hair between his legs so hard it was difficult to draw in breath. With growing force, the God of War yanked Onya by the hair pulling her toward him, pushing her away, while his hips slammed into her face over and over.
Nothing.
After ten minutes of sheer and utter frustration, Ares pulled her away from him and pushed Onya to the ground. “Useless,” he spat as he stepped over her on his way out of the small bathroom.
Just as relief began to wash over Onya, a terrible thought struck her. “Where are you going?” she called after him.
“To my Queen. I fear now she is the only woman who can satisfy my needs. All of them. And she will.”
“Wait.” Onya didn’t know what was wrong with him tonight, but he was off the wall, bound to do anything to anyone. If he went too far and in an uncontrollable fit of lust inadvertently killed the woman he professed to love, Ares would never forgive himself. “Don’t go, my Lord. Come back, let me try again.”
Ares turned back to see her still on the floor, he got down on his knees next to her. “I’m sorry, dear Onya. It seems you and the other women are superfluous. Don’t you know that when a wolf finally chooses his mate, he is with her and only her for the rest of his life?”
“You do love her,” Onya whispered hopefully. “Whatever’s wrong, please, leave her alone. She loves you; don’t take this out on her.”
Yes, that was good advice but Ares knew he would not heed it.
As he turned back to the door, Onya scrambled to her feet but she was too late to stop him. Ares sealed the door behind him. “She’s pregnant!” Onya screamed to the thick cold stone. “Ares! Don’t!”
3
Alena was at her wit’s end, she didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t even sure just what was happening. Was it a Curse or just Ares? Behind the false safety of a locked door with a chair jammed beneath the knob, she sat on her bed with the Staff between her knees, thinking about telling Ares she believed he was cursed, and then she snorted a laugh. That was bound to go over really well, wasn’t it? If he was truly cursed, then by now who was to say that curse hadn’t shattered all of his trust in her? Why would he believe her? She could try to find a way to meet with Zeus or Hera and enlist their assistance, but how? Alena didn’t feel that standing out there on the beach was going to do the trick, though it might bring Eros. What use he could be she had
no idea.
“You? What good are you?” Alena asked the Staff in a disdainful voice. “You’re about as useless as I am.”
Ares said the magick wasn’t in the Staff. It was in her. If he was right then fat lot of good that did all of them. Being only half Fey, Alena simply felt that she did not possess the necessary skills or power needed to make the Staff work. Perhaps if she stood up that would be better, so she did. Alena rose to her feet and held the Staff firmly at her right side. If nothing else, it was sturdy wood, she could always hit Ares with it, probably break it over his fat head. With her left hand, she hit her left temple. “Stop it, just stop that,” Alena told herself. “I love him. I know he loves me. There has to be a way out of this.”
The hand holding the Staff felt a very low hum, so low at first she didn’t even notice it and then began to think her hand was going numb. The more she thought of Ares and how deeply in love with him she was, the stronger the hum grew until gave out the sensation of touching a low-volt electrical wire; not quite enough to pull the hand away but more than enough to feel it.
Suddenly she heard heavy footsteps approaching the door. The knob turned but being locked the door did not open. It turned again with more force and upward thrust, the old metal knob jiggled in its socket as the wood creaked before buckling and the door came off its hinges. There was Ares naked and seething. He began to charge at her, taking long strides while he outstretched his hand to grab for her. Every muscle in his body strained as his olive skin reddened head to toe and the cock that had been so uncooperative now stood to full attention and then some.
There wasn’t much space between her and the wall as Alena instinctively backed up, trying to get out of his path, her heart breaking at the sight of his angry face. “Not again, please.” His hands nearly within reach of her, Alena held up the Staff in a last effort to ward him off. “I love you.”
Then the World slowed to a near stop. The gently humming Staff in her hand quickly built up power, going from that long low hum to something more like a Harley Davidson roaring down the open road. The crystal at the top threw off a bright white light that lit up the entire room. Alena felt a harsh stabbing pain in her heart as something rushed out of it; it headed for her arm and then exploded through the crystal tip. A bolt of pure White Light flew from the Staff. It hit Ares smack in the chest as he continued his charge at her. Hit him right where Adrian had three nights ago.
The God of War froze for a moment–arms outstretched, face gnarled in anger. Something that had heretofore been unseen became visible. Something that clung to Ares like a backpack, its hideous arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, thin snake-like hands buried deep in his chest, wrapped around his heart. It looked at her as its mouth opened in a silent scream and then it exploded in a burst of White Light.
The force lifted Ares off his feet and sent him flying backward, crashing into the broken doorjamb. He came to rest on the floor half in and half out of Alena’s bedroom. The bolt of light followed him down, it stayed with him, soaked into him, engulfed him until Ares’ whole body glowed and every knotted angry muscle relaxed. When it felt its job was finished, the light retreated backward into the Staff and then into Alena where it disappeared.
Petrified in shock and horror for a moment, Alena just stood there looking from the Staff to Ares on the floor. “Oh my Gods, I’ve killed him.” She took one last glance at the Staff before she dropped it and rushed to his side, Alena fell to her knees next to him, cradling his head in her lap. “Ares? Ares, my Love?” Running her hands over his face she thought she felt breath, running them down his body, over his chest she was sure she felt his heart beating and saw his chest rising and falling. “Ares, can you hear me? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what that was, I don’t know what happened. Ares?” Rocking him back and forth, she started to cry as she covered his bearded face with kisses. “Oh, please wake up. Please, I’m so sorry. I love you; we’re going to have a baby. Please wake up.”
Hearing her voice calling to him, Ares opened his eyes and for a moment wondered where he was and what happened to him.
Alena brushed the dark hair away from his face. “Can you hear me?”
Trying to catch his breath, Ares nodded to her. He felt weak but amazingly light. His headache was gone and his stomach was no longer turning. Closing his eyes, once more Ares strained to hear that odd voice in his head but it was gone. So was the unbearable desire to hold her down and ravage her. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” Alena returned as she stroked his brow. “It’s over now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Powerful Stuff
1
Ares was wired, his eyes wide, and his old brain cranked to the fully ON position. Unlike the beauty in the bed, Ares could not sleep; he had been awake all night sitting naked in the chair by the burning hearth in Alena’s room.
Alena, however, nearly collapsed a few moments after he woke up with the spell broken. It had been a hard three days for her and she was exhausted. Ares carried her here to her bed, undressed her so she would be comfortable. It was then that he got a terrible eyeful of his handiwork on her breast, neck and hips, feeling the acid in his stomach rise to the top of his throat. Looking down at her so peaceful, he hated the room, the bed, and himself. It had been right here last night that he’d given in to those darker instincts of his. When she woke, Ares knew she’d tell him it wasn’t his fault. It was the spell, the curse, that had made him act like such an ogre but that wasn’t the truth. Not all of it anyway.
He’d seen the damn thing in the Underworld, saw it reflected in the Mirror of Truth. It was sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. He would very much like to say that it overtook him, but it didn’t. The curse called to his darker side like a Siren. It begged him to give in to his baser instincts and then played upon his fears when he balked. If those things weren’t so strong within him, then the curse would have been less effective. Those malicious aspects would always be with him. He would never be rid of them no matter how he tried or how much Alena made him want to be a better man. Ares knew that he would always be moody. He would always have a temper that often got out of hand no matter how much he struggled to keep it in check. Even if he never engaged in it again—which was unlikely—Ares would always love the heat of battle and the screams of slaughter.
Wanting to slide into the bed next to her, to take her in his arms, hold her close throughout the night, and never let her go, Ares slipped her between the blankets, bringing them up snugly around her shoulders. Consumed with guilt, he sat down in the chair to keep the hearth burning, to watch over her, and listen to the soft pattern of her breathing.
In the dim light of the fire, Ares’ looked at the mangled door and the splintered chair. Did she really think that was going to stop him? That anyone short of a God could stop him, how could she be so foolish? Ares always liked to give credit where it was due and Alena was very skilled with bow and arrow. During the battle she did very well with the Gladius despite the bullet hole in her shoulder. Tonight she wielded the Staff quite expertly, though the curse prevented him from telling her at the time. He would tell her when she woke, tell her how proud he was of her, how deeply remorseful he was for the things that he’d done. He would beg her forgiveness on bended knee and tell her that he would do anything he could to make it up to her. If she asked him for the moon, Ares would get it for her. If he had to spend every single day of the rest of his life picking her bushels of wildflowers and bringing her exotic plants, then he’d do that too.
Anything.
She was brave, strong, and beautiful yet delicate and fragile; he mustn’t forget those last two. Not ever.
Waving a disgusted hand in the air the broken door and busted jamb repaired themselves to his command, as did the chair. Shaking his head and letting out a long slow breath his eyes took in the Staff laying on the floor, his mind wandered away from her budding prowess as a Warrior and to her power as a magick user. Half-Fey and half
-Human, she possessed the best qualities of both races, but her magick should be weak and limited. Yet the bolt of magickal energy she hit him with was every bit as powerful as the one that the laid the curse on him, possibly even more so.
Ares began wondering who Alena’s grandparents had been; mere Mortals and Feys like her? Perhaps not, perhaps at least one of them had been something more than that. Perhaps they passed something down to Alena of which she was unaware. If that were true then it would explain a lot, like just how Alena was able to take all of Ares inside of her when she was still a virgin. In his long life only Goddesses had been able to do such a thing, the Mortal women tried but they were unsuccessful, often times to their own demise. But not Alena. Alena took all of him with a smile and a heated moan as she begged for more.
(The only begging she’d done yesterday was for mercy and he gave none.)
Continuing his line of thinking with ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’, he thought of the gold chastity belt she’d worn and wondered if that belt confined more than just her virtue. Now that she was free of it, whatever Power she may have within her was also free. If Cernunnos knew that Alena had God’s Blood running through her veins and he had constructed the belt to contain her abilities, then that could be an indication Cernunnos feared Alena. Ares long wondered why the Old Celtic Bastard didn’t simply kill the young Maggie MacLeod outright, why go to such lengths to keep her quiet and alive? Cernunnos didn’t need a Wife that badly. There was something missing here and Ares wanted to know what it was.
Tomorrow Ares would take Alena downstairs with her Staff and see if she could repeat her performance. If she could then it would mean that Alena had a Gift. A Power. One that he could teach her to harness and use. If that were true, then wherever they went she would not be defenseless and reliant only upon him for her protection and that of their child. That in turn would make him happy. Not that she was defenseless now.
OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3 Page 44
