Chapter Twenty-Five

Aeros left Tabithia, but a sinking feeling in his stomach made him want to turn around before he’d even finished the words that would take him to Ares. She’d been hiding. He’d felt her trembling against him, not with pleasure but he thought with pain. The brittleness of her smile had torn at him, but he needed to secure her, keep her safe, even from his god.

Ares. The thought that Ares had spoken to her, had summoned her had him raging. The leash he had on his temper was fraying. He’d given enough, served long enough, he deserved Tabithia. He’d have her. All of her, and Ares would back off.

The spell took him to Ares within seconds. The bastard grinned and said, “So, you’ve got laid. The little tumble doesn’t seem to have done your temperament any good, my dear captain.”

There were no words. A simple roar of such power left him that Ares fell back like Aeros had plunged a dagger in his chest instead of hit him with a fist in his face. He welcomed Ares’ immediately response. The power behind the god’s fist to his jaw staggered him but he recovered against a wall and charged back in. Two more rapid fires of his fist to the kidneys, followed by a kick to the back of the god of war’s legs had Ares bellowing in pain.

Ares’ counterattack came hard and swift. Two jabs to the stomach followed by a stunning hit to the chin nearly drove Aeros to his knees. The air left his lungs from a knee to the stomach but the blows he pounded down on Ares’ head rewarded him with a grunt of pain from the god.

“Stay the fuck away from Tabithia.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ares threw his hands out to his sides.

Aeros didn’t bother to talk. He simply hit Ares with a double punch to the side. Ares spun away and attacked. Aeros dived under a punch that would have felled a lesser man and toppled Ares who rested against the railing. Ares twisted, turned in Aeros’ grip to block a fist, and nailed him with a sucker punch in the throat. Aeros clenched his fists around his god’s thick neck and head-butted the bastard just to hear the bones in Ares’ nose crunch.

Two quick jabs hit him in the side, one breaking ribs. Pain shot up, the rage boiling through him. He tasted blood and shook off the god like a dog, managing to bash his head into the floor before he found himself under Ares, fists like iron battering into his face repeatedly. He hooked a leg around Ares’ waist and twisted, shoving hard and rolling down the length of the damn room landing and receiving blow after blow. Panting, breathless, his strength ebbing, he still managed two more good blows before a fist hit his temple and nearly knocked his head off.

“Damn it, Aeros. Back down. What the fuck? What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking”—his fist landed a blow to Ares’ stomach and grunt Ares made was so satisfying he drew back and did it again—“if you ever talk to Tabithia without me there again, I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

“Fucking idiot. I saved your fucking miserable life.”

Ares landed two more powerful punches on Aeros’ gut and ripped the air right out of him. Gasping, he fell back, feeling the fight drain out of the other man—god—whatever.

Ares stumbled and caught himself with a hand on a wall. Aeros got up and followed, clutching his middle and glaring. He’d fucking hit the bastard again if he—

Suddenly what Ares had said registered.

“What did you say?”

Spitting blood on the floor, Aeros wiped his mouth with his wrist and tried to figure out what the hell Ares had meant. Again, his god wasn’t dressed in robes or battle attire. He was dressed in cargo shorts and a tight, blood-splattered, black T-Shirt. What the hell? One glance around showed they were on Earth. On a boat. Yacht. Whatever the fuck.

“Where the hell are we?”

“Sonofabitch, you little bastard. You broke my nose.”

He had? Straightening was painful but he managed by gripping the railing of the damn boat. Breathing hurt like a motherfucker, though.

“Where are we?”

Ares threw out the hand that wasn’t using to clutch at his nose. “Somewhere in the South Pacific. What the fuck does it matter?”

“Well, it fuckin’ matters because you’re not top side. You told me—”

Ares dropped his hand. Blood flowed from his nose and busted lip and dripped down his chin. He looked like hell.

“Look, Aeros, I lie. Get that through your head. I lie like no one’s business. But truth is I need your fucking head on straight here. We, and I mean you, me and your men, need me to find my fucking woman. And fuck her. Now. Immediately. Do you understand?”

“No. No, I don’t. I doubt you’ll convince her of that, either.”

Aeros spat blood over the side, and glared back over at Ares. Something was off. Ares was bleeding. Oh, he’d seen Ares bleed before. Whoever thought gods couldn’t bleed just wasn’t intelligent enough to feed himself. Ares cut, bleeding, and on Earth, though—that was enough to make his spine tingle. The last time he’d seen Ares this way was right before Aeros lost his life in a battle for Sparta.

“Look, I need her. Okay?” Ares held his hands up and shook his head. “Maybe I can wait a day or year or whatever to fuck her, but I need her. Now. Here. Time is running out. Did you think Tabithia could completely cure you? She saved your ass, but your life is in the balance just like mine. We need me to be with Daracha. Just tell—”

Something inside Aeros froze up like he’d been shut in a freezer. He held up a hand and glared over at his god. Speaking clearly, he said, “What are you talking about? Tabithia saved me?”

Ares rubbed both hands over his face, smearing the blood and making a mess of his face. He looked like he wore a blood mask. “She—”

“If you say anything that pisses me off, I will make your face look pretty compared to what I do to the rest of you.”

Ares blinked, grinned and a black brow rose. “All right. You and Tabithia made love, no?”

Aeros took a step, ready to do damage.

“Damn, down, boy, down. She had to—if not you’d be dead soon. I guess she hopped on that right away. The woman surprised me. She didn’t even wait the full two weeks to work up her nerve.”

Dead soon. He’d be dead if Tabithia hadn’t made love to him? A memory of her from last night rose up. She’d lowered herself down his cock while she’d watched him with half-lidded eyes. Her face had been flushed, excited, her hungry, green eyes intensely focused on his face. She’d bitten her lip when she’d taken all of him. He’d reached up and cupped her breasts, and she’d leant down, slowly running her hands up his chest to trace his lips with her fingers.

‘Never want to stop, Aeros. Can you feel me?’

She’d saved his life. But he’d done something for her as well. Warmth flooded his heart until it felt too full for his chest. She loved him. Didn’t she? He loved her. Loved her so damn much he was a goner. Goner.

“Damn, you are such a sap. She saved you. Now, let her out of your bed so she can save you again.”

She’d be worried. She was worried, he realised now, about him coming here to meet with Ares. Instincts warned him she’d been worried about him finding out she’d made love to him to save his life.

He focused back on Ares. The god of war had wiped most of the blood off his face with his T-shirt. He stood shirtless, watching Aeros with a blank look.

Ares was lying about something.

“How? How has she saved me by making love to me?”

A powerful shoulder lifted in a too casual shrug. “You were nearing your end. You needed her, I’m not sure why, but you did. She brought you something.”

Ares didn’t know, did he? He had no clue. The selfish god hadn’t ever lived. Oh, he’d fucked his way through life. Fought and fucked. But he’d not lived.

Tabithia had brought him a life.

He’d tell her as soon as he returned home. He wasn’t angry at what she’d done. How could he be? She’d given a part of herself to save him. No wonder she’d needed the pendant. His chest nearly burst with the pride and love he felt for her. Felt. For her. Tabithia. His witch. She was so fuckin’ brave.

A thought occurred, and he speared Ares with a glare.

“Men, my men. Will this happen to them?”

Ares folded his arms over his chest and frowned. The frown suggested that the thought at least worried him. “They will be fine. You’re the one who never had a life before you answered my call.”

Never had a life? Hell no, he hadn’t. He’d served Sparta.

“Answered your call? Did I have a fuckin’ choice?” he demanded.

Ares speared him with a narrow-eyed glare. “If you had, would you have not come? Not had this woman?”

“Like you knew I’d ever fucking meet her!” he bellowed and swung out again, connecting with a force he felt all the way to his shoulder.

Ares roared and hammered him down with punch after punch. He managed a few more dirty ones before they both staggered back breathless and pissed off.

“Fucking idiot. If not for me, you’d not have her. You may still not have her. Damn it, Aeros, stop!”

He swayed to the side of the boat again, gripping the side hard enough to bend the metal rail. “What the hell are you talking about, then? Explain.”

“She’s in trouble. And I’m not the one you need to talk to. You go deal with her, settle things with her and then get her to take us to Daracha, damn it. Think, man, think. If you want this woman, you need to get me mine.”

Fuck. What the hell did that mean? The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The look in her eyes, the shadow of something in her expression, tension, something tight and hard, felt suddenly dangerous to him. What if she’d left him?

“Don’t call me again, Ares. I’ll come to you, but no more will I answer your every fucking summons. I’ve paid. More than paid. I’ll get you Dare, and we’ll see if you get what you want. Until then, leave me the fuck alone.”

“Dare?”

“She likes to call herself Dare now, and, buddy, she’s not going to take you back lightly. She’s safe and at a club. Evie’s.”

It was Aeros’ turn to grin when Ares’ face, covered still with traces of the macabre blood mask, turned pale. His fists clenched, and every muscle in the war god’s body tightened.

“Say that again?”

“You heard me. Whatever the fuck you have for brain cells had better start working. You’re a god, for fuck’s sakes. Act like one. She’s singing at Evie’s, and, if I understand the place correctly, even you, oh mighty war god, can’t enter unless invited.”

“Aeros, how the fuck did you let this happen? My woman is at a sex club! What the fuck were you thinking?”

Ares’ panicked roar was gratifying.

“Look, you wronged her. Tabithia saved her. Just how long were you going to punish her? For what?”

Ares glared, but didn’t speak.

“All right. Well, the woman still loves you, who knows why? Hell, all those women you had at your place and she still wants you? I’d count myself lucky to still have my balls.”

“I never fucked those women, Aeros, and you wouldn’t understand. I found her with my brother—”

“Look, whatever—”

“No! Not whatever. She’s mine. Mine alone. No one else’s.”

Aeros rubbed a wrist under his nose and came away with blood on his hand. Ares looked ready to blow again, and, right now, Aeros hurt enough to want to stall that fight.

“Well, now she’s up on stage singing for a hell of a lot of others. So maybe get a grip on that temper.”

Ares nodded tightly, his bloody mess of a face forbidding. “Fine, how do I get her back, then?”

“She wants her demands met. Tabithia told you those, remember?”

“Fuck that. I want her here. Now!”

The power in that voice nearly broke Aeros’ eardrums. “Why would you want her if she chose your brother over you?”

Ares froze in his pacing. He turned his head and stared at Aeros for several long moments.

“She didn’t choose him. He wanted her. She denies it, but—”

Holy shit. The stupid jealous bastard. Aeros watched Ares break off and turn to continue his pacing of the length of the yacht, clearly agitated.

“I was gone, I came back and she was in her home with my brother. His interest was clear—”

“Ah, shit, I’m not Oprah, man, but did she indicate she wanted him? And which brother are you talking about?”

“Apollo.”

Ah, okay, that sucked for Ares. Apollo had a reputation with the ladies. “And? Did you ask him? If he touched her?”

Ares speared him a dirty look from under the blood. Obviously he had.

“He claimed she turned him away. But he’s a god and—”

“So are you, right? What the fuck? She loves you, is willing to forgive you fucking imprisoning her for centuries—”

“I didn’t make it seem like centuries. More like weeks.”

What?

“Whatever the fuck you did, she is willing to forgive you. Tabithia said you had her shaved? Dressed in slave clothes.”

Ares fiddled with the railing and blew out a breath. The blood began to clear from his profile. After a few moments he turned, clean of the mess Aeros had made.

“Yes, I did. She angered me.” He paused and frowned hard. “I see my mistake. She spoke the truth. Still, I can’t let her make these demands.”

“If you want sex ever again, you will.”

Aeros took the chance on his guess and was rewarded with a glower from Ares. Ah, so the witch was his bonded. Gods had bonded. Who knew? But that meant Ares couldn’t take another woman. Not if he bonded with Dare. She had him by the balls, and heart it would seem—if Ares had a heart.

“So, let’s just cut the macho shit and get down on your fucking knees if she asks, whatever it takes. By what Tabithia says she’s a good, strong woman. You don’t fucking deserve her. But hell, whatever she asks, just do it. Just send me the fuck home.”

“Damn, Aeros, I thought getting laid would ease you, not make you more of a hardass.”

The grumbled words sounded more like a kid getting caught with his hand where it didn’t belong than a full-grown god of war. Aeros broadened his stance on the rocking boat and folded his arms.

“Just grow the fuck up and send me home.”

“I think you’d prefer to go to her.” Ares met his gaze square on, and, in the depth of the god’s eyes, Aeros saw sorrow, regret and compassion.

Before he could ask what the hell was going on, he found himself shoved off the boat and falling, only to land in a dark room. He hurt—everywhere. The room was not completely dark, he realised as he braced himself against a wall. Moonlight flowed through the empty windows. No curtains, no blinds, just bare walls, bare floors, bare everything.

He turned in a circle, taking in the dull surroundings, the lack of anything. Tabithia. He smelt her. The scent broke his heart in fucking two because it penetrated the place. This was her home. This was her home?

His eyes caught on a doorway, and he walked quietly through another empty room to face a closed door—a closet door. He knew this place. Tension hardened his body, forcing him to grip his aching side. He walked closer, trying not to make a sound. An inch from the door, he heard something, something very soft, sounding like a whispered prayer. He swallowed and grimaced at the pain obstructing his throat.

If she was cutting herself, he was going to break. She might hate him if he burst in. But how could he not? His hands clenched tight as he resisted the urge to turn the knob. He might lose it, yell at her. She might be crying, ashamed. She might be in pain. She might hate him. She might leave him and go where he couldn’t find her.

The soft, whispered word cut across his senses again, and he recognised her voice, low, intense, the prayer to her three goddesses shaky on her lips. Was she already cutting her beautiful skin?

He stepped back, undecided for the first time in his existence. His instincts were in turmoil, so confusing he couldn’t latch on to what he should do. He stood still when all he wanted was to rush forward. All his life, he’d planned, strategised, and taken his time with decisions. Even that first kill, so long ago, he’d planned. Each strike, duck, retreat, advance had built upon the one plan of killing the other boy. Or dying. But dying hadn’t been an option.

Losing Tabithia wasn’t an option, either. But he had no weapon, no plan to save her. What to save her from…herself. How did a man save the woman he loved from herself?

Why was she cutting herself?

He’d thought her happy, content even, with him. He’d seen the shadows in her eyes when he left, but he’d thought nothing of them.

Indecisions spun in his mind. His fists cracked. Fuck it. He’d have to rush forward, rely on instinct and emotions to guide him.

Fear crawled up his spine, as unfamiliar as entering an unknown battle.

He raised a hand and touched the doorknob, the cool metal knob twisting as he turned his wrist.