The Heart of War (57 page)

There wasn’t much space between her and the wall as Alena instinctively backed up, trying to get out of his path, her heart breaking at the sight of his angry face. “Not again, please.” His hands nearly within reach of her, Alena held up the Staff in a last effort to ward him off. “I love you.”

Then the World slowed to a near stop. The gently humming Staff in her hand quickly built up power, going from that long low hum to something more like a Harley Davidson roaring down the open road. The crystal at the top threw off a bright white light that lit up the entire room. Alena felt a harsh stabbing pain in her heart as something rushed out of it; it headed for her arm and then exploded through the crystal tip. A bolt of pure White Light flew from the Staff. It hit Ares smack in the chest as he continued his charge at her. Hit him right where Adrian had three nights ago.

The God of War froze for a moment–arms outstretched, face gnarled in anger. Something that had heretofore been unseen became visible. Something that clung to Ares like a backpack, its hideous arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, thin snake-like hands buried deep in his chest, wrapped around his heart. It looked at her as its mouth opened in a silent scream and then it exploded in a burst of White Light.

The force lifted Ares off his feet and sent him flying backward, crashing into the broken doorjamb. He came to rest on the floor half in and half out of Alena’s bedroom. The bolt of light followed him down, it stayed with him, soaked into him, engulfed him until Ares’ whole body glowed and every knotted angry muscle relaxed. When it felt its job was finished, the light retreated backward into the Staff and then into Alena where it disappeared.

Petrified in shock and horror for a moment, Alena just stood there looking from the Staff to Ares on the floor. “Oh my Gods, I’ve killed him.” She took one last glance at the Staff before she dropped it and rushed to his side, Alena fell to her knees next to him, cradling his head in her lap. “Ares? Ares, my Love?” Running her hands over his face she thought she felt breath, running them down his body, over his chest she was sure she felt his heart beating and saw his chest rising and falling. “Ares, can you hear me? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what that was, I don’t know what happened. Ares?” Rocking him back and forth, she started to cry as she covered his bearded face with kisses. “Oh, please wake up. Please, I’m so sorry. I love you; we’re going to have a baby. Please wake up.”

Hearing her voice calling to him, Ares opened his eyes and for a moment wondered where he was and what happened to him.

Alena brushed the dark hair away from his face. “Can you hear me?”

Trying to catch his breath, Ares nodded to her. He felt weak but amazingly light. His headache was gone and his stomach was no longer turning. Closing his eyes, once more Ares strained to hear that odd voice in his head but it was gone. So was the unbearable desire to hold her down and ravage her. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story,” Alena returned as she stroked his brow. “It’s over now.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Powerful Stuff

1

Ares was wired, his eyes wide, and his old brain cranked to the fully ON position. Unlike the beauty in the bed, Ares could not sleep; he had been awake all night sitting naked in the chair by the burning hearth in Alena’s room.

Alena, however, nearly collapsed a few moments after he woke up with the spell broken. It had been a hard three days for her and she was exhausted. Ares carried her here to her bed, undressed her so she would be comfortable. It was then that he got a terrible eyeful of his handiwork on her breast, neck and hips, feeling the acid in his stomach rise to the top of his throat. Looking down at her so peaceful, he hated the room, the bed, and himself. It had been right here last night that he’d given in to those darker instincts of his. When she woke, Ares knew she’d tell him it wasn’t his fault. It was the spell, the curse, that had made him act like such an ogre but that wasn’t the truth. Not all of it anyway.

He’d seen the damn thing in the Underworld, saw it reflected in the Mirror of Truth. It was sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. He would very much like to say that it overtook him, but it didn’t. The curse called to his darker side like a Siren. It begged him to give in to his baser instincts and then played upon his fears when he balked. If those things weren’t so strong within him, then the curse would have been less effective. Those malicious aspects would always be with him. He would never be rid of them no matter how he tried or how much Alena made him want to be a better man. Ares knew that he would always be moody. He would always have a temper that often got out of hand no matter how much he struggled to keep it in check. Even if he never engaged in it again—which was unlikely—Ares would always love the heat of battle and the screams of slaughter.

Wanting to slide into the bed next to her, to take her in his arms, hold her close throughout the night, and never let her go, Ares slipped her between the blankets, bringing them up snugly around her shoulders. Consumed with guilt, he sat down in the chair to keep the hearth burning, to watch over her, and listen to the soft pattern of her breathing.

In the dim light of the fire, Ares’ looked at the mangled door and the splintered chair. Did she really think that was going to stop him? That anyone short of a God could stop him, how could she be so foolish? Ares always liked to give credit where it was due and Alena was very skilled with bow and arrow. During the battle she did very well with the Gladius despite the bullet hole in her shoulder. Tonight she wielded the Staff quite expertly, though the curse prevented him from telling her at the time. He would tell her when she woke, tell her how proud he was of her, how deeply remorseful he was for the things that he’d done. He would beg her forgiveness on bended knee and tell her that he would do anything he could to make it up to her. If she asked him for the moon, Ares would get it for her. If he had to spend every single day of the rest of his life picking her bushels of wildflowers and bringing her exotic plants, then he’d do that too.

Anything.

She was brave, strong, and beautiful yet delicate and fragile; he mustn’t forget those last two. Not ever.

Waving a disgusted hand in the air the broken door and busted jamb repaired themselves to his command, as did the chair. Shaking his head and letting out a long slow breath his eyes took in the Staff laying on the floor, his mind wandered away from her budding prowess as a Warrior and to her power as a magick user. Half-Fey and half-Human, she possessed the best qualities of both races, but her magick should be weak and limited. Yet the bolt of magickal energy she hit him with was every bit as powerful as the one that the laid the curse on him, possibly even more so.

Ares began wondering who Alena’s grandparents had been; mere Mortals and Feys like her? Perhaps not, perhaps at least one of them had been something more than that. Perhaps they passed something down to Alena of which she was unaware. If that were true then it would explain a lot, like just how Alena was able to take all of Ares inside of her when she was still a virgin. In his long life only Goddesses had been able to do such a thing, the Mortal women tried but they were unsuccessful, often times to their own demise. But not Alena. Alena took all of him with a smile and a heated moan as she begged for more.

(The only begging she’d done yesterday was for mercy and he gave none.)

Continuing his line of thinking with ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’, he thought of the gold chastity belt she’d worn and wondered if that belt confined more than just her virtue. Now that she was free of it, whatever Power she may have within her was also free. If Cernunnos knew that Alena had God’s Blood running through her veins and he had constructed the belt to contain her abilities, then that could be an indication Cernunnos feared Alena. Ares long wondered why the Old Celtic Bastard didn’t simply kill the young Maggie MacLeod outright, why go to such lengths to keep her quiet and alive? Cernunnos didn’t need a Wife that badly. There was something missing here and Ares wanted to know what it was.

Tomorrow Ares would take Alena downstairs with her Staff and see if she could repeat her performance. If she could then it would mean that Alena had a Gift. A Power. One that he could teach her to harness and use. If that were true, then wherever they went she would not be defenseless and reliant only upon him for her protection and that of their child. That in turn would make him happy. Not that she was defenseless now.

With amazement, he watched as she held her arms out to him wanting an embrace. That disgusting feeling of shame wouldn’t let him go to her. “It’s late, Alena, you need to rest.”

“I need
you
.”

Her soft words washed away some of the shame, enough for him to stand and make his way over to the bed where he sat on the edge. Alena moved over, wanting him to crawl in next to her. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes, please, I’ve missed you.”

“How do you do it, Alena? After the things I’ve said and done to you, how do you look at me with so much open trust?” he asked, genuinely wanting to know. “I said awful things; I did terrible things to you. Despicable. Reprehensible.” Shaking his head he added in a mournful whisper, “Unforgivable. I am so…sorry.” That seemed pathetic at best, for all he’d done all he had to offer her was a few words, but he’d never felt them more deeply because he’d never known this level of regret and remorse. “I never want to hurt you or frighten you, I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me.”

Those beautiful dark eyes of his were laden with tears. “I know.” Since he didn’t appear ready to come to her, Alena went to Ares. She rose up on her knees, letting the blankets fall away from her naked body and crawled up behind him. Wrapping her arms around his brawny torso, one under his shoulder and the other over, she pulled him backward until his head rested on her. Reveling in his warmth, she kissed his bearded cheek. “It wasn’t you. The curse was very powerful.”

Ares let out a groan. “Don’t make excuses for me.”

“I’m not making excuses I’m just—it wasn’t that bah--”

“If you tell me it wasn’t that bad, I’m going to be very upset with you.” In her arms, he turned around. Taking the soft little hand away from his face and holding it tightly in his own, he looked her up and down, and let out a mournful moan as his heart tightened in his chest. “Look at you. Look at what I’ve done to you.”

It was as though the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees as a cold shiver went through her. “Ares, please.” She didn’t want to think about it anymore. “It’s behind us, it’s over.” Feeling vulnerable and ashamed, she reached down to pull the blanket between them and cover her bruises from his eyes.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” The question brought more confusion to those sparkling eyes and she did not answer him right away. “Do you?”

“I know who you are. Do you?”

“Do I—”

“Don’t let him do this to you, it’s what Cernunnos wants more than anything; for you to second guess yourself, to always look over your shoulder and drive a wedge between us. Don’t let him win, Ares. I love you. I’m not afraid of you.” Although she left it there, Ares clearly heard the last word of her sentence hanging in the air between them:
anymore
.

She was afraid, he saw it in her eyes, in the way she clutched the blanket to her. After tonight, Ares never wanted to see it again. “I fear you look at me through rose-colored lenses. More than that, I fear that one day that coloring will fade and you will be forced—again—to see me for who and what I am. Then you will leave me.”

“Then you’ll have to hunt me down and kill me. I know it’s not easy being the God of War.” She let her solemn tone hang in the air for a long moment before the corners of her mouth tilted upward in a precocious grin.

“You’re making a
joke
? At
my
expense?” No one did that to his face.

“It would appear so,” Alena returned in a chiding tone that matched the one he had spoken to her with a few moments ago. Turning his hand over so that the palm faced upward she looked down at it and then to him. “Oh, would you look at that? It’s not glowing. No fireball for my impetuousness?”

“Disappointed?”

“No.” Alena brought his hand up to her lips and laid a kiss in the middle of his palm. “You?”

“With you? Never.” Alena was far more than he deserved. Yet, this Old Wolf finally found his Mate. The five thousand year wait had been worth it. This was his woman; she was in love with him and was carrying his child. Ares would defend them to the bitter end. While no matter what he did Ares would never be the White Knight upon the White Horse, when all of this was over, the battle won and behind them, Ares might be able to find true and everlasting peace in the simple life of a husband and father. Laying a soft kiss over her waiting lips, the thought that she was a True Gift from the Gods was reaffirmed when she kissed back. He wondered if miracles would never cease.

It seemed they would not, at least not for the time being.

“You don’t have to worry because I’ll never leave you. I love you.”

Her reassurances were heartening but her use of humor was a defense. She often made a joke when he got too close. Distraction was always a good strategy, but he had more experience in battles than she did and he couldn’t let her get away with it. Shaking his head and running one hand through her hair and holding her hand to his heart with the other Ares went on in a very quiet voice. “And I love you so you must do something for me now. Tell me that I hurt you, that you’re angry with me. If you don’t want Cernunnos to win then don’t start building this wall. Don’t make excuses or ignore what happened. I can’t.” No, in fact he could still hear her whimpering, begging him to stop and for the life of their child. Still felt her trembling below him as she wept. And the smile on his face. If he lived for another five thousand years he’d never forget it or forgive himself for it.