The Heart of War (5 page)

Onya ventured a question she knew she should not. “And where would she take such things, my Lord?” It was an island and there was no boat. No plane. No helicopter. Even if the woman should wake up and rob Ares blind, she could never get off the island. He knew that.

Ares turned a cold stare as he looked down upon her. “No more questions. This is
my
home. Don’t forget it.”

“Never,” Onya agreed, looking down at her feet.

“That’s better. Off with you now, go to your quarters.”

The women in his charge did not have separate quarters; instead, they shared a large communal room, the only entrance to which was a door in his bedroom. This prevented his guards from gaining unfettered access to the women. It wasn’t that Ares didn’t share; he loved to share some of his toys but only on his terms and in his own time.

2

With dawn only a few hours away, Ares carried her up the stairs to his bed where he laid her in the middle of it. He locked the door to the harem chamber and stripped himself of his clothing before crawling in next to her, remembering the kiss she had bestowed upon him with much fondness. In her sleep she cuddled close to him looking for warmth.

Nearly two hundred years ago Zeus, the God of Gods, cast his son Ares out of Olympus and stripped him of his Crown and Scepter. All over a simple misunderstanding but, of course, none of the Olympians would listen to Ares’ side of the story. They would never consider entertaining the idea that he was innocent. Instead they shunned him. None but Hera, Ares’ Mother, and Artemis, Ares’ sister, had ever given him a second thought. Artemis was long gone. Two hundred years is a long time for anyone to sit in exile, Man or God, and the loneliness and boredom were beginning to take their toll.

For a while, Ares occupied himself with the Mortals—a skirmish here, a war there. Enough to keep him busy and entertained. Yet there was nothing out there able to catch and hold his Warrior’s Interest. Mortals had become soft and weak. When they weren’t yammering on cell phones or playing with their Internet, they were nothing but sheep bleating in the night. He had no use for them or their gadgets. The longer Ares lingered in exile the more he lost interest in Men. They had all become too weak to care about any longer.

Back in the Days of Old, way back before Jesus Christ walked the Earth and men were men and wars were fought over tangible things such as land, treasure, and power, to him things were better. Men faced their enemies in battle and they went to Hades not from a mile away by some coward hiding in a bush but at the end of a blade, three feet away from his opponent’s eyes, his blood seeping down over the blade while his life force drained away and Hades came to collect his due.

The once Grand and Mighty God of War now spent most of his time languishing here in his huge and hollow cave on his island in the deep blue Mediterranean Sea with a staff of servants that was nearly a third of what it had once been. A few guards to watch over the island and a handful of women to please him. Once, his home on Olympus was filled with hundreds of guards and an equal number of women to bring him pleasure, but no more, now it sat collecting dust. Once he had ruled over a fierce army of hungry warriors, and now he spent his days in solitude.

Not too long ago, one night when he was wandering some city out there in The World of Men he heard a phrase, one that he now understood and agreed with; it was better to burn out than to fade away. To sit here rotting away, still hale, still hearty, still strong, still virile, vigorous and useful, yet with no purpose whatsoever, it was maddening.

Tonight, Fate dropped this curious and interesting woman into his lap. Tomorrow he would find out more about her. If nothing else, she would ease his boredom for a while.

“I take it she’s to be your new woman?”

Ares had not even heard the door open and there was Kat at the foot of his bed looking at him with fire in her eyes, speaking with venom on her tongue. “I thought I locked that door. I see you’ve a key, woman.” He held out his hand, “Give it to me.”

“I don’t have a key,” Kat lied. “You left it open.”

“Did I?” Ares chided. “I think not. Give it to me. Do not make me get out of this bed and take it from you. I assure you it will not be a pleasant experience,” he warned in a dark voice, waited with open impatience before she slipped her hand into her pocket and then gave him the key. “Where did you get this?”

“You dropped it,” Kat answered quickly.

“What is it with you tonight, hmm? Why do you insist on lying to me?”

Kat had the key for many years, and she handed it over so easily because it was not her only one. She actually had two hidden under the animal hides that blanketed her bed. They were safe there; Ares never came to the chamber for anything more than to call one, two, or all of them up to his room so that they could pleasure him in whatever manner he saw fit at the time. “Just answer me, I deserve that much,” Kat challenged as she looked down upon the scene with a churning stomach. “I’ve served you well for many years….”

“And you have been rewarded for your service,” he interrupted as his hand closed around the brass key. “Handsomely, dear Katrina. Have I not given you station here? Perhaps one much higher than you deserve. My women treat you like a Queen, as though you
were
my Consort. Which, by the way, you are
not
. What do I ask of you? A little warm companionship and a hot meal. Is that so much in return for all that you have here?”

It was Kat’s turn to snort. She hated it when Ares called her ‘dear Katrina’, if he remembered your name and put the word ‘dear’ in front of it, it was like being chastised by your father. It was Ares’ way of telling you he was pissed and you should not push things any further or it could get mighty rough. It was best to heed the gentle yet stern warning, but the sight of a woman she had not approved of, one laying in what she considered to be
her
bed and
her
rightful place was too much of an insult to go without protest. “This place?” she said with a curled lip and roll of her eyes. “This hovel of yours?” For its time perhaps it was opulent, but that time passed millennia ago. She lived here without as much as the convenience of electricity!

Ares sat up in the bed quickly as his smoldering onyx eyes narrowed on her. “Get out of my room!” He pointed toward the door leading out of the bedroom and to the staircase to the lower level of the cave. “Hovel, is this? You can start swimming at any time, my dear, go on and see how far you get before you drown. I’ll not stop you. As for her,” the angry hand gesturing toward the door seemed to soften as he pointed downward to the woman sleeping next to him, “she is not my woman, she is my guest, at least for now or until she proves herself untrustworthy, then she can start swimming with you. I wouldn’t want you to be lonely out there on the deep blue sea.”

“Why didn’t you just kill her?” Kat demanded to know. “Throw her to the Cerberus and be done with it?”

“Whatever I do or don’t do isn’t for you to question,” Ares lobbed back in a dark whisper and held the sleeping woman a little closer to his warm frame. She let out a little coo and nuzzled her face into the deep patch of dark hair on his chest. His full lips turned upward into a genuine smile as he found he enjoyed the weight of this woman in his arms. “You think she will displace you?” Ares nearly laughed as he thought of the belt keeping him and any male at bay. If he couldn’t screw her, what good was she to him other than the little mystery with which she presented him?

(And that kiss)

Kat did not like the grin that suddenly broke out on his handsome face, and she liked looking at the gray haired woman in his arms even less. “I’m in charge of the women here,” she said through gritted teeth. “I say who comes and goes from this bed.”

“Wha—what did you say, dear Katrina?” Ares held a hand to his ear. “I know you are not challenging my authority. Not here on my island, in my home, in my bedroom!”

It was in the way his lips hardly moved and yet his words were clear and unmistakable that sent a cold shiver through Kat. “No.”

“I didn’t think so. You would never be so foolish, would you?” Ares didn’t wait for her to answer. “Now, you can take yourself back to your bed or you can start swimming, go back to slinging drinks and fending off drunks if that’s what you want. The choice is yours. Either way…get out of my room. Your company is not wanted tonight.”

Chapter Three

Awakening

Slowly ascending the levels of consciousness, Maggie’s nose twitched as something tickled it. She swiped a sleepy hand across it then laid her hand down. Her fingers entwined in something that was soft yet coarse.

Fur?

Was that fur?

Fur was nice, it was comfortable and…

Was it…moving?

Up and down very slowly.

Was it… thumping?

A strong steady thump-thumpa-thump

A heartbeat?

Maggie’s eyes rolled opened as she tried to focus. She saw dark hair and what looked like flesh but…“Oh!” She skittered away and sat up as she realized she was laying next a man. There she was with her head on his chest, his lungs pumping air into him and his heart beating just below her hand.

Ares sat up in the bed. He had been awake for several hours but he’d come up here a while ago to check on her. When he sat next to her, she moved closer to him almost inviting him to lie down and nap with her. So, he did. “Good afternoon,” Ares intoned. “You snore like a freight train, did you know that?”

“I wh-what?” Maggie gasped as she grabbed for the thick skins around her and clutched them to her. “Oh Gods, I’m still dreaming.”

“I told you already, it’s no dream, woman. Here, let me help you,” he said cheerily just before he slapped her lightly across the face. “Did you feel that? Shall I do it again?”

Holding a hand to her cheek, Maggie skittered the rest of the way off the bed. Still clutching one of the skins to her, she sprinted over to the door and pulled on the knob, but it would not give. “Let me out of here!”

She must still be dreaming. Maybe she was dead. Dead was probably the most likely option and it seemed almost calming until the panic set in—
what
if she wasn’t dreaming or dead? What if this was real?
“Let me out! I don’t want to be in your bedroom!” She yanked on the doorknob repeatedly before beating her fists against the wood.

“Oh, I’m crushed,” Ares said scornfully. “Here last night you kissed me and told me you loved me.”

His words froze her in place for a moment, with her hand still fisted and ready to pound. “I did no such thing,” she whispered. Although, now that he’d mentioned it, she had a vague recollection of a lovely dream in which a warm set of full lips pressed to hers and her fingers wrapped in waves of raven hair. Maggie turned around to face him. “Please let me out.”

“After you tell me your name.”

“Maggie.”

Ares’ upper lip curled. “This does not suit you. What is your name? Your full name? Margaret?” He did not like that any better.

“Mag—Magdalena,” she whispered and turned back to the door. “Let me out now.”

Ares pondered her request; she had lived up to her end. “That’s better. Do you know who you’re named for, woman?” No Fey he ever met was named after….

Maggie turned back to him nervously. “Jesus Christ’s wife.”

“Wife?” Ares said as his eyes grew wide. Most of those who knew of the mere existence of Mary Magdalene either denied it or twisted it. Some went so far as to make the most holy and exalted of Christ’s followers a common whore. “I see you’re no Christian, certainly not a Catholic.” He threw the hides off, watched her jump in place as she turned toward the door in case he should be without pants when the covers were completely off. “Don’t worry woman, turn around.”

Maggie ventured a peek over her shoulder and saw that while he was not wearing shoes he was wearing a very attractive pair of black leather pants. After that, she just kept looking up, up, up, and up, until she nearly fell over backwards before taking in his face once more. “Holy Gods, you’re a giant!”

Ares snorted and then laughed heartily. “No, we’ve been over this, Magdalena. I am Ares God of War. An Olympian. Not a giant. Hercules slew the last of those long ago.”

Maggie felt her heart drop to her stomach as her stomach fell to her knees. She looked around the room. No lamps. No heaters. No clock. No computer. No TV. The massive bed upon which she had slept last night appeared made of a single piece of marble or granite. A fire burned in a hearth the size of which she had never seen. Everywhere she looked she saw a weapon or armor of one type or another. Covering her face with her hands, she hung her head as her shoulders slumped forward. “I’ve gone insane, haven’t I? That’s it, isn’t it? I’m not dead, I’m crazy.”

Ares let out a rush of air as he swaggered over to her and took her delicate wounded wrists in his large hands. He drew her hands away from her face to look into those strange stormy eyes. “You are not crazy. You are not dead. You are here and so am I.”

“Where is here?”

“Greece. You washed up on my shore last night. But you know, it’s the damnedest thing; you see…there was no ship. There was no wreckage on my beach or in my waters.” Ares lowered his head and even had to bend a little at the knees so that he was eye to eye with her. “So tell me, Magdalena, where did you come from? If you tell me Africa, I have to say in advance that I do not believe you, Celt.”

Even though he was scaring the wits out of her, Maggie managed to answer him. “Yes, Africa. I was at a refugee camp,” she stuttered and looked away from him back toward the locked door. “Please let me out of here.”