OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3

by Lisa Beth Darling

  “Oh, god,” Alena moaned as hot breath caught in her lungs, “my god, that’s so good.”

  “I am always at your beck and call, my Wife,” Ares returned and pushed in as far as he could only to have her hips search for even more. He answered the heated call with another long strong finger to probe and ply her. Those gasps for air stopped as she froze in place, “Always here to please you.” Every muscle in her slender body strained with the force of the climax the fruit of which washed down his throat as he sucked in every possible drop. Even more spilled over his hand soaking him to the wrist while drops dribbled past his chin and down his chest. He could keep her frozen there all night cumming and cumming and cumming but never reaching the epitome of the orgasm only going higher and higher to a summit in the stars. One long, slow, hard thrust and she fell over the edge the last of her sweet honeysuckle/musky juices ushered forth making his cock spring to life even as she panted with relief below him.

  With her eyes swimming in their sockets and the world spinning around her she looked down at the man between her legs grinning back at up with self-satisfied delight. “Now?”

  “You sound like Raven,” he teased as he sat up showing her his hot stiff cock, “but why don’t you come over here? Sit on my lap and show Santa what you want for Christmas?”

  Alena’s body was weak from the two climaxes but her spirit was very willing to take on the challenge as she wrapped her legs around his waist and then settled down his throbbing waiting shaft. “You’re all I ever want, Christmas or any other day of the year. Just you. Just us. Just this.” With the last, his cock pierced through the last of her waiting pussy and their hips met along with their lips, “Merry Christmas, my love.” Her legs wrapped around his waist, her feet locked tightly together, and her arms around his neck Alena pumped up and down and all around on Santa’s North Pole greasing with fine exotic oil it until well after the sun rose on Christmas morning.

  The End

  December, 2011

  CHILD OF WAR-

  (Part II)

  RISING SON

  BY

  LISA BETH DARLING

  Book #3 in the Of War Series

  Moon Mistress Publishing USA

  Moon Mistress Publishing

  New London, CT 06320

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual or fictional events, locales or persons/characters, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portion(s) thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Copyright 2012—Lisa Beth Darling-Gorman

  ISBN-13: 978-0615721422 (Moon Mistress Publishing)

  ISBN-10: 0615721427

  Cover Art Designed by Lisa Beth Darling

  Text set in Calibri11

  Edited by: FAB

  Supporters: Tanja Jockeneer and Kristina Haecker—thanks ladies! This isn’t possible without the three of you!

  The Rose-Performed by Bette Midler

  From the Motion Picture Soundtrack “The Rose”

  Words & Music by-Amanda McBroom

  Copyright 1980

  The Entire “Of War” Series Has Been Written

  In Loving Memory Of

  KTS

  1963-2002

  Gone far too soon

  As Always, this book is Dedicated To:

  Red & Andy—

  Like it or not, Hope Springs Eternal, boys

  Other Books by Lisa Beth Darling

  Fiction:

  Dream Weaver

  The Limikkin

  The Heart of War

  Child of War-A God is Born

  Christmas Eve on Olympus

  OBSESSION

  Non-Fiction:

  The Shame of Eminent Domain

  A Window to Magickal Herbalism

  Sex, Love, Magick

  Prologue

  Four Years Ago…

  After a night of comforting lust in Aphrodite’s bed, Ares arrived home only to find Alena at the bottom of the grand marble staircase. In a split-second, a million things met his eye and raced through his mind.

  She was lying in a heap on her left side, her silky silver tresses matted to the side of her head as it lay in a large pool of blood that lent a gruesome layer of luster to the black marble floor. “Alena? Alena?” Ares whispered, unaware he was speaking. When she didn’t answer, he stooped and rolled her over onto her back.

  The grisly wound on the side of her head gaped wide, showing flesh, blood and bone. It was so horrifying it made the God of War jump back and away from the repugnant sight. The left side of her beautiful face was nearly gone, caved in from the fall, every bone shattered from brow to jaw. The God of War saw more than his fair share of battle injuries, knew those that were mortal from those that were not on sight. This was right up there with the worst of them; it didn’t take a God or even an old warmonger like him to know that if one were bashed in the head that hard then one died.

  All around her, covered in blood, were several items that took a moment to understand their meaning; gold coins, bits of bread and food, her staff, a small sack of clothes.

  These things told him the full story of how the pain and distance between them grew too great for Alena to bear, with these small trinkets being all to her name she was leaving him when she fell. She was taking this chance on his night with Aphrodite to get the hell out of this looney-bin as she so often called Olympus. As the shock of the moment began to wear off and cold reality set in, a bellow of shock and agony erupted from him as the God of War crashed to his knees beside his broken bleeding Wife.

  Holding her there, her body limp but warm, the last trickles of her blood flowing over his hand, the wound on the side of her face seemed to mock him, laugh at him, as it reminded him of one basic inescapable fact; Karma’s a Bitch. Alena’s pain and suffering was nothing short of Divine Retribution for his actions—his hubris, his arrogance, and his unwillingness to see how much she was hurting because of it all. The only thing he could do now was to wish the Gods had taken it out on him instead of the one he loved. “Alena, no. Alena.”

  Hearing his Father’s howl, Raven ran out of his room to gaze down at his parents from the top of the stairs, his Mother half-dead and his Father in tears. Raven scurried down to ask what happened to his mother.

  With Alena in his arms, Ares looked up at Raven over the top of his tearstained eyes. “What have you done?”

  “Me? I dunno what happened,” Raven protested trying to look as shocked and upset as his Father.

  “You did this!” Ares’ blazing eyes looked up to the top of the stairs and at the closed door to Raven’s room, knowing there was no way Raven didn’t at least hear his Mother fall. Why hadn’t he come to her aid? If it was a simple fall, why didn’t Raven run for help? Then the glittering of blood soaked gold caught his eye and he had an epiphany; Alena wasn’t leaving, she was trying to leave him when she fell but she needed help because he never gave her the power to open the Gates of Olympus. Who would she turn to? Her dutiful Son, Raven, of course. Alena would never leave here without both of her children. Never. Of that Ares was absolutely certain. His eyes smoldered as they fell back to Raven. “I know you did this. Why?”

  “I didn’t do anything.” He looked from his irate Father to his dying mother. “But you better do something, and quick.” He pointed to Alena, but not to her head—to the space between her legs that would have brought him a happy healthy sibling in a few months. It was covered with blood. The small mound in Alena’s stomach churned and wiggled. “They’re both dying.”

  Ares was suddenly transported back in time to the night of Raven’s birth. It was a thing he never wanted to revisit, yet here it was before him once more. Still on his knees, his leather pants now soaked through with her blood, he scooped Alena into his arms and tried to rise. His tree-trunk sized legs were weak under his brawny body. Be
fore they could give out completely, Ares ascended the stairs, tears in his eyes, anger and fear warring in his heart. He turned to look back at the bottom of the stairs to take in the last thing she saw and found Raven staring up at him with a smug expression on his young face. “Make yourself useful, boy, go and get your Grandmother…now!”

  Raven didn’t hesitate, he just bowed his head and took off like a shot.

  Listening to the echo of the slamming door, Ares laid Alena down on the bed they shared and smoothed bloody bits of bone and flesh away from her brow with its new little crater. “I did this to you, I know. I did this.” With no one around, the God of War openly wept as he nuzzled his forehead against hers, letting the free flowing tears fall onto her ashen cheeks. “Stay with me and we’ll go back to our island and we’ll live in the warm sunshine. I’m so sorry for all that I have done, please don’t go.” Running his hand down the cheek that was still full and healthy he held her close as he dared without risking further injury. “Stay. I love you so.”

  Alena didn’t answer, she just lay there, still, barely breathing, with her bloody face in peaceful repose.

  It wasn’t long before Hera rushed into the room with Raven hot on her heels along with Iris and Arianna. Onya, however, was spending the night with Eros. The Queen of the Gods neared the bed and saw the badly wounded woman upon it. It was a brutal and gruesome sight and it made Hera cover her heart with her hand as her mouth gaped. “What happened?”

  Sitting on the bed, holding her in his arms, Ares didn’t turn around to face his Mother. “It seems that she fell down the stairs.”

  Raven stood up on his tiptoes trying to see past his Father’s shoulder without much luck. “Is she going to be all right? What about the baby?”

  Ares turned to look at his Mother from over his shoulder as he awaited her answer without much hope.

  “Get out of here, all of you, go,” Hera ordered, shooing her hands at Raven and the women.

  Raven and the women dispersed to leave them alone and in peace. The women ran down the stairs together hand-in-hand chattering excitedly and in worried tones. Raven hung around in the corridor just beyond the closed bedroom door. He heard the shredding sound of his mother’s blood soaked gown ripping open, probably at his Father’s shaking hands. He listened when Hera gasped at the sight of Alena’s bruises.

  In the bedroom, Hera did everything that she could, but even using all of her power and working feverishly the Goddess of the Gods was unable to halt the premature birth of the little girl inside Alena. As Alena lay motionless on the bed, she gave birth to a baby girl too small to survive. The girl slipped out of her mother as though she were chuting down a waterslide and landed between Alena’s knees with a weak cry. She was smaller than the palm of his hand. Though she didn’t appear to have been injured in the fall, her face drooped horribly to one side. Every breath she gasped for made her cry in pain and every cry grew weaker. Holding the bloody newborn close in his arms, Ares felt a wave of sadness rushing so fast and rooting so deeply he thought he’d be lost in it forever. He knew she was going to be a girl when he discovered Alena was pregnant and he knew how happy Alena was going to be when the baby arrived.

  That was gone now.

  Everything was gone.

  All that remained was a suffering child born so prematurely that she had no chance of survival. Ares looked up at his Mother who shook her head as she finished with the rest of the birthing business and then closed Alena’s legs. Holding his newborn baby Daughter close to his aching heart as his tears fell onto her forehead, Ares knew there was only one thing left to do, but for the first time in his life he didn’t want to do it.

  Hera’s heart ached for her Son and the infinitesimal baby in his arms. If there was anything she could do, anything at all, Hera would gladly comply but there wasn’t. For a while, she turned away from the mournful sight as she tended the wound at Alena’s head. Although it was difficult, Hera was able to mend the skin and bone until Alena looked like Alena again and not a smashed Jack-O-Lantern.

  The damage beyond the physical was just as great. No matter what Hera tried, Alena didn’t wake. Drawing a clean blanket over her Daughter in-Law, Hera turned back to her Son holding his struggling premature Daughter. “She’s in much distress; perhaps it is best if you end that for her. Don’t let her languish in pain.”

  “Alena? What of my Wife?” Ares swollen red eyes raised from the sight of the tiny girl in his arms to his lifeless Wife on the bed and then to his Mother. “Tell me the truth; am I going to lose her as well?”

  “I don’t know. The energy I give her simply falls through her like sieve,” Hera whispered and lightly approached a very dangerous subject. “I think Zeus could…”

  “Never,” Ares hissed, “he doesn’t ever come near her. If she woke to find she owed her life to Zeus she’d kill me.” His sorrowful eyes cast downward once more to the baby in the crook of his arm. Her eyes opened. They were bright and gray, and Ares had no doubt that his new Daughter saw him when she smiled a crooked toothless grin at him. It filled his aching heart with hope—dangerous hope. Drawing the towel tighter around her to keep her warm, his eyes scanned upward to the partially open bedroom door as he thought of Raven, who he was sure was standing just on the other side. “What do you think could be the cause of this?”

  “I don’t know,” Hera uttered again, not at all enjoying the sensation of being so unsure of herself. “It’s almost as though she doesn’t want it, like she’s pushing it away.”

  “Really?” Ares snorted as he held out his hand to draw open the bedroom door to expose Raven standing there spying on them. “I wonder why that would be, don’t you, boy? Why she wouldn’t want to get better.”

  Raven only stood there in silent defiance, glaring at the squirming infant in his Father’s arms and then at the battered woman on the bed. “I didn’t do shit.”

  “I know, you didn’t even hear her fall, did you?” Ares scoffed, wanting to kill the smug boy where he stood.

  “You think Raven pushed Alena down the stairs?” Hera’s peacock eyes widened in horror. “Why would he do that?”

  “Because she was trying to take him off Olympus, isn’t that right, boy?” As though she were answering for her silent Brother, the baby in his arms wriggled and let out a pitiful cry of anguish. Something in her tiny cries called to Ares, it spurred him onward to lay out accusations he was glad Alena was not awake to hear. “You didn’t want to go, didn’t want to do as your mother told you, so you fought her and then you pushed her…”

  Raven’s silence finally broke as he stormed into the room and strode up to his Father. “I didn’t touch her! I never pushed her!” The squirming baby went on crying louder and louder. To Raven it sounded as though she were trying to tell them all what really happened tonight. Raven covered his guilty ears to block out her shrill cries. “Shut it up! Kill it! Just kill it!”

  Spit flew from the lips of the God of War as rage boiled in his veins and he tried to control himself for the sake of the crying infant in the crook of his arm. “IT? Look at her! She’s your SISTER, boy!”

  Raven didn’t look at his newborn Sister, he just stood there with his hands over his ears and his eyes shut tight as he railed, “It’s a runt! Just kill it and put it out of its misery,” he said in cold defiance. “Her too,” he hitched his dark head toward his mother, “she’s as good as dead too so why don’t you just man up and do what you’re good at.”

  In that instant, if Ares hadn’t been holding the fragile infant, Raven was the one who could have considered himself as good as dead. “I said look at her! Look at what you have done, the misery and destruction you have caused!”

  “Fuck you.”

  Ares stood up and cocked back his left arm ready to let loose the fireball that was already screaming for vengeance. “What did you say, boy?”

  “That’s enough,” Hera hissed and grabbed her Grandson by the shoulders, “let’s go, Raven. Leave your parents in peace.” The bo
y didn’t want to move though Hera insisted when she gave him a harsh shove and Raven stumbled toward the door still protesting his innocence.

  Left alone with nothing but his quiet Wife and the dying baby in his arms, Ares felt crushed by the weight of the world. Twenty minutes ago, he was rising from Aphrodite’s bed after a night of consoling lust with his biggest worry being how he would look Alena in the eye again, and now his world was in ashes.

  Alena lay on the bed with her eyes open, unblinking they stared off into space in his direction as he settled into the chair by the hearth. Gone was the blood and the outward signs of injury but those wide eyes were distant and lifeless as they bore a hole straight through him with deafening cries of silent accusation. His heart heavy with the knowledge of the dark and distasteful task before him, Ares knew that Alena would want many things before the baby’s life ended. The most important one among them would be to give the precious little girl a name. “Rose,” Ares whispered through falling tears, “your name is Rose. Your mother is Magdalena MacLeod and I am Ares, your Father, and I love you, little one. I never wanted this. Not for you and not for her. This is the best I can do for you now, little Rose.” Ares raised his hand and began placing it over the infant’s face. It descended lower and lower, until he felt her soft exhales on his palm. His hand shook and the tremor shot up his arm into his shoulder, making it weak and hard to hold up. Then the miniature baby with the puff of strawberry hair opened her gray eyes and smiled another crooked painful grin for him. Agony gripped his heart and then ripped it to shreds as he lowered his hand away from her face. “I’m sorry, Rose, your Father has failed you on all counts. For all the men I have slaughtered, I can’t do this, little one, I can’t end your suffering. The best I can do is ease it.”

  Cradling the suffering infant in the palms of his hand, Ares rose from the chair and walked over to the bed where he sat next to Alena. “Can you see her, my Wife? Can you see our Daughter? Our Rose?” He held the dying infant in front of her wide open eyes but there was no sign of recognition, not even when he put her hand on the baby’s tender skin. He didn’t know how or even just when he started, but Ares sang to Rose the song he knew Alena would if she could. “Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed.” Each line made the tears fall harder as they choked off his words, but Ares rocked the little girl and made it all the way to the end of the song.