Ares (Contemporary Mythos Book 3)

I lingered on my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Chelsea had gone too far this time. Not only was she forcing me to go to a Halloween party, but she made me dress as an Amazon—an ancient, scantily clad, estrogen-raging Amazon warrior. A sports-bra-shaped top with a wide beaded strap wrapped around the back of my neck and secured in a crisscross pattern right above my cleavage—beads, leather straps, and fur scattered all over it. Running a hand over my bared midriff, I played with the loincloth design complete with belt and dozens of beaded strings that hung down the front and over my ass. I secured the fur and leather gauntlets on my forearms, tightened the rope armband, and finished with the thin strip of braided leather around my forehead.

“I guess I should be thankful we’re in Santa Fe in October,” I mumbled to myself, fumbling into a pair of knee-high boots.

Taking a deep breath, which further accentuated my already bursting bosom, I walked out to the room. Mars sat at the table with his right ankle resting on his left knee, flipping through a magazine. He glanced up and did a double-take, his eyes widening.

“That bad, huh?” I played with a string of beads hanging from my top.

“Uh.” He threw the magazine on the table and dragged one hand over his beard, then the other, eyes roaming up and down my body.

I blinked, putting my hands on my bare hips. “Uh? Mars throw me a bone here.”

He scratched the back of his head and stood up. “You look…” He lingered over my body before panning up to my face. “Good.”

“I’ll take it.” I crossed my arms. “Where’s your costume?”

He’d been staring at my chest and shot his eyes up. “My costume?”

“It’s a Halloween party. You can’t go dressed as a bodyguard.”

“Why not?”

“Mars.”

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. It’s uh—in the bathroom.” He paused beside me. His eyelids grew heavy as he took in the sight of me up close.

Our gazes met as he chewed on his bottom lip.

My breathing quickened, and I hugged my folded arms tighter against my chest. “You better hurry. We’re going to be late.”

He traced his fingers around the beard surrounding his mouth before disappearing into the bathroom.

I let out a shaky breath and bit my fingernail, waiting for him. After only a few seconds, the bathroom door creaked open. I’m not sure what I expected to see, but I certainly didn’t expect Mars in full Spartan armor when I turned around.

My hand clenched around the beads of my top, scanning him from head to toe. Sandaled feet, with metal greaves covering his shins and knees. Leather pteruges flaps hung over the tunic—a bronze chest-plate with carved abdominal muscles and pecs that did no justice to his natural physique. A cape extended to the floor, secured at his shoulders. The helmet shadowed his face in the darkness, the red plume standing out in bright contrast.

I ran my fingers over the armor on his chest. “Holy shit. This isn’t plastic.” I knocked my knuckles against it—cold, hardened steel.

He slipped the helmet off, and I fought the urge to pounce on him at the sight of his hair down. A braid hung on the right side, laced with a brown strip of leather, and a silver bead with Greek designs.

“You’re observant.” Sarcasm laced his tone.

My eyes couldn’t decide between staring at the armor or his face framed by that gorgeous hair. “Where did you get this? Was Medieval Times having a consignment sale or something?”

His gaze dropped to my fingers, tracing the grooves of armor over his pecs. “I had it laying around.”

“Wait. You’re not a—” I leaned in to whisper. “You’re not a LARPer, are you?”

He scowled. “A what?”

“Never mind. You can’t go in there with this.”

“You’re making this very difficult, gatáki,” he grumbled, walking back into the bathroom.

I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck and almost choked myself when he returned. Gone was the metal armor. He stood bare-chested, bronzed, and glorious with only the leather shoulder pieces and tunic remaining.

He held his arms out at his sides. “Does this please you?”

“Almost,” I whispered, my eyes lingering on his tattoo.

“Almost?”

I shot my eyes to his face and forced my hand to rest at my side. “I meant, yes. Yes. That’ll work. We now look like a pair of ancient strippers. I’m sure it’s exactly what Chelsea was going for.”

He moved for the front door, adjusting the gauntlets on his forearms. The lamplight glinted off the xiphos sword slung on his hip.

“Mars, they’re not going to let you bring a sword into the party.”

He narrowed his eyes at me over his shoulder. “I’d like to see them try and take it.”

I held my palms up and shook my head. It wasn’t worth the argument. I’d simply wait for the moment where I got to say, “Told ya.”

Per our usual, we were silent during the car drive to the mansion. I had to keep my hand under my chin to keep my face forward and avoid ogling him. Throughout my life, I never saw myself as someone with particular tastes or preferences in men. Each passing day around Mars, I began to realize it was because I’d never met him. We were like passing ships in the night. Each knew the other was there, but given the darkness, it was easier to pretend we didn’t exist.

We pulled through the circular drive, and Mars reluctantly handed the fob to the valet. As we walked to the attendants at the front door, every pair of eyes fell on us.

“Name?” The attendant asked, tapping a pen against his clipboard, his gaze roaming my body.

“Makos. Should be for two.”

Mars’s arm snaked around my waist, and he pulled me to his side. I raised a brow at him, but he remained laser-focused on the attendant staring at me.

The attendant cleared his throat and jotted something on the clipboard. “Here we are.” He stepped aside, removing the red velvet rope from its stand.

“Oh, sir. You can’t bring that inside,” the other attendant said, reaching for the hilt of his sword.

Mars turned away, bringing me with him. “You touch it, maláka, and I’ll cut off your hand.”

The attendant’s eyes widened, and he gulped, shifting his eyes to the other guy with the clipboard.

I laughed and curled my hand over the one Mars had clenched on his sword, making his shoulders relaxed.

“It’s a replica. Is it still not allowed?”

A lie.

The attendant pulled at the collar of his jacket. “No, ma’am. No weapons allowed. Even fake ones.”

I pressed my lips to Mars’s ear. “I’ve seen what you can do with your bare hands. If we get in trouble, I highly doubt you need the sword. Just leave it. We can’t cause a scene.”

A growl vibrated at the back of his throat, and he slipped his arm away from me long enough to remove the sword and belt. He wrapped the belt around the blade and held it out to the attendant with one hand.

“I hope you cut yourself on it,” Mars said through gritted teeth.

I chuckled and tugged at his bicep to follow. “Being on edge is normal for you, but you seem extra moody. What gives?”

He glanced down at my bare stomach with a tightened jaw before curling me against him again. “This is going to be a long night, is all.”

When we’d first met, I probably would’ve pushed myself away from him. But something about his arm around me struck a primal nerve in my gut.

Spiderwebs stretched across chandeliers and lamps, adding to the Gothic decorations in the atrium while fog floated over the floor. Colored lights of gray and purple added to the eerie atmosphere. A techno version of the song Monster Mash blasted through the room.

“Makos?” A voice called out.

The MMA owner walked over, dressed as a baby—pacifier, diaper, and beer bottle in hand.

“Anderson,” I greeted with a weak smile.

Mars may as well have been invisible as Anderson scanned my attire. Mars’s grip tightened on my hip.

“Wow, you look like a smoke show. Amazon, right? Chelsea’s idea, I take it?”

I nodded—the less of a conversation I held with this guy, the better.

Anderson jumped when his gaze fell on Mars. “Holy shit. Mars. I didn’t even recognize you.” He threw out his hand for Mars to shake.

Mars stared at it with a scowl. I bumped him with my shoulder, and he shook it. The poor man winced as Mars squeezed so hard his fingers turned purple. Once he let go, Anderson laughed and rubbed his hand.

“Hell of a shake you got there. Damn shame you had to retire so early. You were the best the MMA’s ever seen.”

“I had other battles to fight,” Mars responded monotone.

Anderson looked back at me. “Heard about your loss. You’ll get it back, sweetheart.” He winked.

I tensed and took a step forward. Mars idly pulled me back, caressing his callused fingertips over the skin on my hip bone. It damn near made me shiver, forgetting all about Anderson’s insult.

“Are you two together?” Anderson between us.

Mars and I spoke at the same time.

“No,” I said.

“Yes,” Mars said.

Anderson chuckled and shook his head. “It’s none of my business. You two enjoy the party. Makos, tell Chelsea to give me a call. I guarantee I can get you back in the ring again.”

I gave a single nod, surprised over his quickness to vouch for me.

“Amazon,” a woman’s voice beckoned.

Jesus. Could we get three feet into the place before someone else called my name?

Kelly Fitz. The woman who stole my title. Fury shot up my spine, and if it weren’t for Mars’s hold on me, I might have head-butted her right on the spot. She wore a cheetah costume—whiskers, tail, face paint, and all.

“No hard feelings, right?” A sinister smile pulled at her lips. “The best woman won.”

Mars turned me away, the red glint flashing in his gaze as he focused on her. “A tinge of humility is in order. Warriors shouldn’t fight for hatred of what they’re fighting. They should fight for the passion they have for themselves.”

Her smug expression melted away, and tears filled her eyes as she ran away.

“You made her cry.”

He rolled his shoulders. “I tend to have that effect on women.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“Except for you.” He searched my face before his gaze lifted to the open space in the center of the room—the dance floor. “Would you—”

I turned to face him and backpedaled toward the center. He followed me with a curious squint.

“Were you going to ask me to dance?” I looked up at him with heavy lids.

He traced his fingers over my lower back, his pinky finger snuggling into the top part of my skirt. “Yes.” It came out husky.

“I’d have never suspected a brute like you had moves.” I ran my hand up the ink on his arm.

He moved closer until the bare skin of his chest pressed against my shoulders. “I’ve taught some of the best warriors war dances.”

“You mean soldiers?”

He sucked on his bottom lip, running his fingers over the hanging beads of my top. “Same thing.”

He tapped his hand against the middle of my back in time with the pulsing bass from the techno song playing.

How was one supposed to dance to this music?

He lowered his face, pressing his cheek against mine and hovering his lips over my ear. “Do you hear my heartbeat, gatáki?”

I closed my eyes. His heart’s steady pace started to overpower the music until it was the only sound in the room. “Yes.”

“Concentrate on it,” he whispered.

We started to sway back and forth as I did what he asked. Slowly a different song played—ancient, harmonious, and sultry. It began as drums followed by the introduction of plucking strings and pipes—byzantine. The melody transported me audibly to ancient Greece.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

My lashes fluttered, and I stared up at him with ethereal tunnel vision. Other people were undoubtedly around us, but all I could see, all I cared to see…was him. He spun me around, pulling me to him. My back slammed into his chest. He skirted a hand around me, pressing his palm against my bare stomach. I wrapped my arms around his neck, swaying my hips to music only the two of us could hear.

He brushed the hair away from my nape, dragging his lips across my skin. Pushing a palm against my hip, he spun me around to face him, holding my hands above my head with one of his. Our chests heaved in unison, pressed together. Keeping my hands in the air, he used his other hand to trace a finger over my lips, down my neck, and just as he neared the valley between my breasts, he slipped the hand around my waist.

He waltzed us around the dance floor, burning me with his gaze. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Every moment longer, with his skin pressed against mine, I became his. We were fighters both internally and outwardly—warriors with mutual respect.

He dipped me and splayed his hand over my abdomen, gazing at it as if he wanted to devour me. And then his focus moved lower. He blinked and shook his head, lifting me with a growl. The ancient music disappeared. The pulse of techno music flooded into my ears, disorienting me. When I managed to regain my composure, he was gone.

“Mars?” I called out, doing several circles.

I could barely make sense of left or right. He’d pulled me into his world, scorched me with his touch, his darkened gaze—only to abandon me in the middle of a sea of people? Part of me wanted to be pissed, but the other fought for a reason. There had to be a reason. There’d better be a damn reason.

After searching all corners of the room, I moved to the first hallway. He sat on a chair, hunched over with his forearms on his knees. He glared at the ground like it was his worst enemy staring back at him.

I folded my arms as I walked. “What kind of a bodyguard lets their client out of their sight?”

The glare disappeared, and his eyes brightened as he lifted them to me. “I could hear if you were in trouble.”

“From out here? How?”

His jaw clenched. “I just can. Alright?”

No. It wasn’t alright. Half-assed answers and hiding so many secrets—too many secrets—I was done with it. I’d gone beyond the point of irritation, and yet my blood burned for him—pined for him. No more denying it. He’d held the reins on the dance floor—and I let him. Now I needed the sense of control back, to take what I wanted. Moving to stand in front of him, I shoved his shoulders back against the seat. He canted his head to one side, watching me as I slipped onto his lap, straddling him.

I’d half expected him to ask me what I was doing, or was I sure I wanted to do this, but as he had from the first day we met, he surprised me by asking none of it. His hands trailed up my thighs until they reached my hips, pulling me tighter against him. I ran my fingers over the braid in his hair before slipping my mouth over his.

He moaned against my lips, moving his hands to my backside, squeezing it. I slid my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers in his dark hair. There was a brief moment when I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. I played with fire, taking things to another level with Mars, but didn’t think twice about the scars it could leave. He wound his burly arm around my waist and started to hoist me up.

“Wow, why don’t you two get a room?” A stranger walking through the hallway said, laughing.

Mars flopped back down to the chair with a heavy sigh, breaking the connection of our lips. I tapped my forehead to his and slid from his lap. He cleared his throat as he adjusted himself through his tunic.

“I uh—forgot where we were for a minute. It’s the atmosphere, the dancing, I—” I sounded like a stuttering idiot.

Mars stood with a wide stance. “Harmony.”

A name I once loathed sounded like a breath of fresh air when it rolled off his tongue. “Yes?”

“I need to tell you something, but I’m not sure how.”

I didn’t like where this was going.

Suddenly feeling exposed, I curled my arms around myself. “Is there someone else?”

He frowned. “No. Of course not, but—this could be worse.” He dragged a hand through his beard.

Worse? What could possibly be worse? He had some secret family on a discreet island? Did he like to dress up as animals during sex? I wasn’t even sure if either of those would be a deal-breaker.

“Do you want to go back to the room?” My question sent a tingle over the back of my skull—the implications of it.

The skin between his eyes creased. “Yes. Is that alright with you?”

After that heated lap session, I wanted to be anywhere else but here. “Yeah.”

The entire car ride, Mars’s knee bounced uncontrollably. I didn’t dare say anything or even try to soothe him. Something told me he had to get through this one on his own. When we walked back into the hotel, he let out an exasperated snarl and paced the room. It wasn’t exactly the action I’d hoped for, but I could tell he needed someone, and not just anyone, to listen to him.

“Mars. Calm. Down.”

He clenched his fists and threw his arms out at his sides like Wolverine. “It’s what you don’t understand. I’m the epitome of not calm. I was born, made for the exact opposite.”

I pressed my back to the door, letting him take out his temper tantrum. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’ve got so much festering inside me, and I can’t do anything about it.” He kicked the desk, causing the lamp to shatter on the ground.

I froze. I’d been here at a certain time in my life. Unable to control the rage, taking it out on inanimate objects. To watch the destruction of something made dealing with myself breaking easier.

“I can’t help who I am. The reason they bred me. And now with the way of the world, what is the point of my existence?” He let out a monstrous roar, slamming his fists into the bed in front of him, snapping the frame.

“Jesus Christ, Mars. Someone’s going to call the cops.”

His nostrils flared, and he gazed at me with frantic eyes. “Do you know the worst part? I’ve had to hide it from you. Lie to you.”

My sinuses stung. “Lie to me about what?” It came out louder than intended.

He dragged the back of his hand over his nose. “Vlákas.” He gripped my shoulders. “I’m Ares. God of War.” His eyes flashed red.