OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3

by Lisa Beth Darling

  II

  Upon exiting the Fortress, Eros stopped in Ares’ woodshop. “Just how patient have you been, Father?”

  “What?”

  “Unusually so?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Have you made any strong advances at all?”

  “I’m not discussing this with you.”

  “What she needs is so pathetically obvious; why can’t you see it?”

  “See what?” Ares put down the plane he’d been using on the new item he was creating for Alena. “You’re not making any sense. What should I say to her? Tell me. Anything, I’ll say it.”

  “Say? No, Father, here actions are going to speak much louder than words.”

  “Fine! What should I do?”

  “You really don’t see it? You know, there have been so few times in your life when acting like a barbarian would get you somewhere, you decide to try to take the high road.” Eros sighed and shook his golden head.

  “Barba—”

  Eros stepped a little closer to Ares. “Tomorrow, when you’re alone on the island, do what you do best, Father. Take control and remind her of why she fell in love with you in the first place.”

  That sounded good—if Ares could only fully understand it, perhaps he could implement it. “Why was that?”

  “I’ll give you a hint; it wasn’t your gentlemanly ways.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two Tickets to Paradise

  I

  As expected, Alena put up a fuss when she was told Eros would be taking charge of Raven for the next twenty-four hours while she and Ares escaped to the island. Eros intended to take Raven to his Tower, but Alena insisted that Eros stay in the Fortress while they were gone. That way Raven would have everything he needed and he wouldn’t be upset by unfamiliar surroundings in the face of the absence of his mother.

  When their feet landed in the warm sand of the island and the sweet salt air breeze embraced her, Alena felt a crushing weight disappear from her shoulders as she breathed in. Forgetting her abilities, she hopped around in the sand as she yanked off the sheepskin boots and tossed the matching full-length coat to the ground. Standing in the sand in a heavy woolen gown, she peeled that away, too. Only the white cotton slip beneath remained, and then she wiggled her bare toes. Gazing out at the ocean, standing on its shore, to feel it lap around her feet and hear the crash of its waves, she let out a smile and then a giggle as she began playing Catch-Me-If-You-Can with the water kissing the sand. Up on Olympus it was so cold, nothing but snow; if she went outside to gaze at her surroundings she could see the water but she couldn’t smell it or hear it. Even the sunlight up there felt icy. But not down here.

  “Better already, I see,” Ares intoned reflectively as he watched her skitter around on the sand and let the sound of her titters lighten his heavy heart. “This island really does agree with you.” Here less than five minutes, and the vacant sadness in her eyes was gone along with the drooping somber mouth and creases on her forehead.

  As far as Alena was concerned, just being away from Olympus was what really agreed with her. “I love it here,” she called back to him as she reached down to grasp the hem of the slip and slide it upward over her head. She cast it to the sand at her feet and ran naked into the sea.

  “You’re going to give Poseidon a hard-on,” Ares cracked as he watched her dive under the water and turn summersaults. Her feet planted on the back of her head with her hands grasping her ankles she turned over endlessly in the water, one second her firm ass popped out of the water for the briefest instant and then it was those lovely firm breasts, their nipples hard as pebbles with droplets clinging to them. “Me too, for that matter.” Not wasting time with stripping, he just snapped his fingers and the black leather surrounding him disappeared just before he ran after her into the warm blue waters. Cutting a long clean line through the water, Ares swam over to where Alena was tumbling, waited for her to surface and then caught her in his strong arms.

  Swiping a hand down her face to clear away the salt water, she looked up at him and gave him a genuine smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Ares ran his hand over her wet hair, down the side of her face and cupped her chin. “So nice to see you again, my Wife. I missed you.”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body to his she whispered in his ear, “I’ve missed you, too.” She nuzzled her face into the nape of his neck, pressing her bare breasts to his soft hairy chest and feeling his heart beat with hers. Alena wanted to stay here like this forever, in his arms with the warm water lapping around them and the sun shining overhead. All perfect moments come to an abrupt end and this was no different; when she felt him growing hard, Alena broke their embrace and blushed as she pushed away.

  “What can I say? You inspire me,” Ares whispered with a touch of sadness. He should have known getting her back into bed wasn’t going to be quite that easy, but she was ready and she wanted to even if she wasn’t quite willing just yet. “Come up to the beach with me.” He held out his hand for her. “I have something for you.”

  Alena turned her eyes to the beach just as their fingers met and she saw the loveliest surprise; a feast fit for a king spread out upon a long rustic wood table with torches burning at either end. A small ways away from it was burning a large bonfire in the sand, surrounded by blankets on top of which sat thick fluffy pillows. Not far from the fire was a massive brass bed set in the sand. It had a white canopy of gauze that hung to the ground on all sides, the covers and pillows a white eyelet pattern, and they were covered with rose petals. Looking at it made her tingly in places that hadn’t tingled in a long time. “Nice bed. Expecting something?”

  “No, but I’m not beyond hoping for it,” Ares returned with a smile as he led her to the beach and the table overflowing with sumptuous goodies. Seating her in her customary place to his left, Ares reached under the table and produced something long wrapped in a cloth. “For you.”

  “A gun?” Alena raised her eyebrows as she took it from his hand and laid it on the table. “You bought me a gun?” While it seemed an appropriate gift from the God of War, she was puzzled by the gesture until she opened the wrapping and beheld a new staff. “Oh my, Ares! It’s beautiful.”

  “I would never give you a gun unless it was necessary.” He sat down next to her.

  “You made this, didn’t you?” She stood up as he sat down and held the staff at her side to see that it was exactly six inches taller than she was. It was made from a sturdy piece of Rowan that undoubtedly Ares picked out and cut down by hand. It was strong and straight without a single knot or rough patch. At the very top he’d carved out a Power Knot and settled a large amethyst into it. It bristled with Ares’ energy as little shock waves echoed under her hand. Picking it up in the middle, she twirled the staff around as though it were a baton, throwing it around and behind her back to find it perfectly weighted. “You know this means I own and wield the weapon of a God.”

  “So it does,” he smiled, “I know you will use it well. Maybe tomorrow you begin practice with it but tonight,” he patted her empty chair with the tips of his fingers, “come sit and enjoy the sunset with me.”

  As the sun went down they sat at the table and ate and drank, and talked, as they hadn’t done since their honeymoon. No pressures down here, no nagging Olympians and no crying babies. It was just the two of them and the rest of the world be damned, at least for this one night. By the time the stars came out to twinkle against the black velvet night, Alena seemed lighter to him. The creases and lines on her always-furrowed brow that started to fade when they arrived were gone completely; she no longer looked sad or worried but content and happy in the firelight. “Do you think they’re all right?”

  “They’re fine,” Ares said easily, “Eros loves his Brother. I’m sure all is well. Besides, the women are with him.” As far as Ares was concerned, they could have just left Raven with the women and he would still be fine, they would take good care of him. A
s brash and bold as the Olympians were, even Ares never dared to break into one of their homes no matter how pissed off he happened to be at the time. The Americans had a saying; A Man’s Home is His Castle, and the Olympians agreed.

  “Don’t you think we should—I don’t know—call—or something?”

  “I said they’re fine,” Ares asserted in a tone that clearly signified the conversation was at an end and he didn’t want to hear any more about it. He picked up the pitcher and frowned. “Empty.”

  Alena pouted, “Oh, what a shame.” She didn’t say anything else about Raven.

  Ares leaned forward, put the gold pitcher in front of her and said, “Why don’t you try?”

  “Me? Oh, hummm.” There was a very nice wine back in Boston, one that she always liked to drink in the evenings when she was alone and unwinding in her townhouse. “Ok.” If the liquor store she used to purchase it from was still there then so was the wine. Alena closed her eyes and held her hands palms up as she envisioned herself in Fitzpatrick’s Packy, walking down the second aisle past the bottles of whisky to the rear wall and the refrigerator cases. Past the beer and red wine, sitting on the shelf inside was a row of large bottles reading Barefoot Moscato. In her mind she reached in, felt the chilly air on her face, and grabbed a bottle, then another, then another, until her arms were full and she was giggling at the table.

  “I think that’s enough,” Ares chimed as he started laughing.

  Alena opened her eyes to find eleven bottles of the sweet white wine sitting in front of her. “For now,” she agreed with a grin then she held her hand out to him. At first Ares didn’t understand what she wanted, but then he let out a grunt as a gold coin appeared in his own hand and he gave it to her in payment for the wine she’d conjured. Clearly, one gold coin wasn’t enough as her hand still held its place; with another grunt he handed over another gold coin and watched as Alena made them disappear. “Thank you.”

  Taking a full cold bottle of wine and two glasses with them, Ares and Alena went to stretch out on the blankets and pillows by the bonfire and gaze up at the stars. Holding his arm up at his side and still gazing at the fire instead of his Wife, he said, “Come.” He was delighted and a little surprised when she did what he said without hesitation and curled up at his side.

  “We should have marshmallows.”

  “Those soft gooey white things children like?”

  Since she’d done so well with the wine, Alena thought she’d try the feat with a bag of marshmallows. She envisioned herself at Price Choppers in Boston, walking down the candy aisle and picking up a bag of Stay-Puft Marshmallows with the Sailor Marshmallow man on the package. In her open hands she felt the bag as it materialized; she gave it a squeeze before opening her eyes and laughing again. “Give me a stick.”

  “What?”

  “Please? Would you get me a stick?”

  If she made the wine and the marshmallows appear, surely she could conjure up her own stick, but he obliged and took a small piece of kindling from the pile near the fire. “Here,” he said as he handed it to her, curious to see what she was going to do with it. Alena opened the bag, stuck her nose right in it, took in a deep breath and let out a satisfied ‘ahhhh’ before shoving the stick into the bottom of one of the white puffs. “Aren’t you going to pay for those?” he teased.

  Alena would but, “I don’t think they’ll miss the one bag.” One bag of marshmallows certainly wasn’t worth a whole gold coin.

  “Rebel,” he charged playfully, “thief, even.”

  Maybe she was getting a little rebellious. “Are they watching us?” she asked as she held the stick over the fire to roast the marshmallow.

  “Probably,” Ares answered, knowing that at least Aphrodite was up there looking down on them tonight. He’d gone to her shortly before they left today and demanded the loan of a certain item. Ares said she owed him and Aphrodite complied on the grounds that she would watch them tonight and see how he handled the items she was handing over for his use.

  At the end of the stick, the white marshmallow began to bubble and turn brown; Alena rotated it to roast the other side. Although Alena hated the idea of being constantly watched from above, it was better than being constantly sneered at. It was so much more peaceful down here than it was up there. “Can’t we just stay here? I know Hera won’t like it but the island is big enough; we’ll build her a house.”

  Ares snickered. “I should build you a proper house here.”

  “I like the cave; I miss it and this island.”

  All sides of the marshmallow roasted a toasty brown, he watched her ease it off the stick and pop it into her mouth. White goo slid over her bottom lip and down her chin, more of it stretched it out a long string between the tip of the stick and her fingers. “Maybe when Raven is older we can return here to live. You can teach him to…do whatever that is. What is it?”

  Alena thought they could get away with making an escape sooner than that. As much as she hated the idea of Aphrodite bearing Ares’ child, on the Up Side it did mean Hera would have a full-blooded Olympian grandchild on whom to dote. With that, she’d be less likely to keep her chokehold on Ares and Raven. “You’ve never roasted a marshmallow over an open fire?”

  “No.”

  “Hot dog?”

  “No.”

  “You poor deprived man,” she cooed and laid her hand over his with a smile. “Here, I’ll fix that for you if you fill my glass.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘depraved’?” Ares asked as he watched her grin at him before repeating the process with her marshmallow while he filled her glass. A few moments later, Alena was popping the treat off the tip of the stick and into his mouth. It was hotter than he expected and it threatened to burn his tongue before he could swallow. “Sweet,” he remarked with a bit of a grimace as the last of it went down.

  “I know you’re not fond of sweet things,” she whispered as she reached out and plucked a strand of cooling marshmallow from his beard before taking it into her mouth.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” he remarked with a warm lilt in his voice. “The marshmallow was good, warm, light and sweet, like something else I know.” Alena blushed like a schoolgirl and turned away from him to put another marshmallow to the fire. Quietly Ares sat there watching her toast it but something must have been distracting her; she let it sit over the fire too long and it burst into flames. With quick little puffs of her cheeks—

  Wuff-wuff-wuff

  —the flame went out. Although the marshmallow was blackened beyond recognition, she still plucked it from the stick to pop it in her mouth; halfway there it fell apart. Quickly Alena bent her head down, around and forward to catch the falling hot melted center on her tongue while the rest of it stuck to her fingers. With a hardy smacking of her lips, she licked clean her fingers and her chin.

  Taking her face in his hands, he looked into her sparkling eyes. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

  Alena blushed again and turned her eyes away for a moment before returning them to meet his gaze. “No, not today.” She reached out for the glass and drank it down only to hold it out for a refill; Ares happily complied with the silent request.

  “I haven’t? Shame on me,” he chided himself and shook his head before planting a soft kiss on her cheek. “How about you finish that glass and then you let me make it up to you for being so lax?” Although his words were meant to entice her, they seemed to freeze her for a moment and then cause her to think about retreat. Ares suddenly found himself thinking of their little hunting trip and of how it might have ended if Nicco hadn’t interrupted them. How she tried to tell him then, even though she was afraid for him to know. He understood what Eros had been talking about; Alena hadn’t fallen in love with him because he was a gentleman. She fell in love with him because he was aggressive by nature, and to her that meant he was strong and brave. He was dominant. An Alpha Male. Qualities that led her to believe he could stand up to Cernunnos and win. After so many years of livi
ng on the run, of hiding from Cernunnos and her true self from everyone around her and being constantly on alert, she was tired and wanted to give up that control to someone else. She wanted to submit. She just didn’t know how to say it and was a little leery of giving in to it. Yet she responded well when he used an authoritative tone or nonchalantly told her what to do. Looking back on them now, Ares easily saw that his advances in bed had been weak at best, especially for him. It was only out of a misguided sense of concern for her feelings about what he’d done with Aphrodite. While she wanted him to be sorry and to know that he had hurt her, she didn’t want him to grovel and be weak. She didn’t want him to plead with her for the return of her affections.

  No, Alena wanted…needed…him to show her how much he still wanted her and to be aggressive about it. It was good to have such confirmation as they sat here in a comfortable silence by the fire, because earlier in the day he’d borrowed the perfect tools for this occasion. Sitting there for a moment watching her watch the flames and finish the glass, he remembered his promise to be a good Husband. He supposed that meant doing whatever was necessary to make her happy—whatever was necessary. Still, it was a fine line he was going to walk tonight. He wanted his Wife back, maybe even to expand her sexual horizons a little bit tonight and for a thousand nights to come, but he didn’t want to be her Lord and Master. Ares wanted her to be free, to choose to be with him and not forced to stay with him out of fear. The last of the white wine slid down her throat as Ares plucked the glass out of her hand, tossed it to the sand, and picked her up.

  The wine and relaxation made her lightheaded, but so did Ares. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her nose nuzzled into the wavy raven hair covering it. “What are you doing?” she slurred through numb lips as he carried her across the sand over to the waiting bed where he laid her on the rose petals.

  Ares didn’t answer. Instead, he pinned her arms down by the sides of her head as he pressed his bare chest to her and planted his lips on her neck just under her right ear; he drew in a deep breath as his nostrils flared wide to catch as much of the intoxicating scent as he could. Below him he felt her quiver as she swallowed hard and the pulse beating away just under his lips began to rev. When his mouth opened and he drew in a chunk of tender flesh, the sensation shot a bolt of tingling lightning from her head to her toes; it ricocheted up and then back down again with each sucking pull. Alena’s head spun as her back arched upward, her toes curled, and places further south, places that hadn’t seen proper use in a long time dampened as they stirred to life. Moving to hold both of her wrists in one of his hands, Ares ran the other hand down the nape of her neck and then across her already heaving breasts.