Page 74 of God of War

“Bedroom,” he orders me.

I shake my head. “It’s ruined.”

Another piercing look, cutting me open and laying me bare. His eyebrow lifts. “Does it look like I fucking care?”

He drops his hand, the skin at my throat prickling with new blood flow, and dips to scoop me around the waist. I jump, wrapping my legs around his hips. Ares grins as he positions his hand under my ass and squeezes roughly.

We start the journey out of the living and down the hall, towards my bedroom. I drape my arms over his shoulders and enjoy the moment to study him up close. Even in the moonlit shadows, his gray eyes sparkle. I trace the line of his nose and the blonde stubble on his jaw.

“You know, with one working hand, you haven’t really seen me at my best,” he says, crossing the threshold into my childhood bedroom.

With casual confidence, he balances us on one foot and uses the other to kick my torn and crooked mattress flat on the bed frame.

“Neither have you,” I reply. He grins and then we’re kissing again. I close my eyes and my stomach swoops as he tilts me backward, holding tightly until I’m laying flat on my back. The pressure of him disappears and my eyes flutter open to see him standing over me. He pulls his t-shirt off by the back of the neck, his taut muscles shifting under tattooed skin. My mouth waters. I want to trace every single one with my tongue.

He goes for his belt buckle and for half a second I doubt he can manage it with only one hand. Buckles clink, buttons pop and then his jeans are hanging loose.

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Ares grins devilishly. My eyes follow the shadowed grooves of his abdomen to the cropped tuft of hair at his open fly and the hard hint of what’s below. A shiver hits me deep and low and I swallow tightly.

God of War.

The words pop into my head unaided. I still have that book, never returned it to the library after that night. I’d stare at his page for hours. And that’s how I thought of it — his page. I imagined the Greek god coming to life, leaping from the page, weapons drawn, and charging through battle to save me.

“Del? Baby?”

I blink back to Ares. The real one. Flesh and blood, skin and bone. Not a god, but a man. And even if he didn’t slaughter my enemies to do it, he still saved me.

“What’s your real name?”

Ares cocks his head. Huffs a little laugh.

“Seriously? You know my name.”

I do. It’s somewhere in there, a vague shape of vowels and consonants, but I never thought of him as that name. He was always Ares. I don’t say anything, just stare up at him. Ares takes a moment, then with an amused tilt on his lips, he puts a knee on the mattress and lowers himself on top of me again.

“Cameron Warner. Nice to meet you.”

“Can I, um… Fuck, why is this so hard?”

Ares mouth twitches up, his eyes darting down. “Well…”

“Shut up,” I growl, bringing my hands up to cover my face. “I’m being serious.”

Ares rocks back on his heels, the pressure of his groin hard against my hips. He touches my wrist. Gently pulls my hand back from my face.

“Delaney, you’re kinda freaking me out. If you don’t want to do this…”

“No! No, I do. I just…” I swallow hard. “I want to call you Cameron. And I want you to be nice. Just for tonight. Just for right now.”

Ares frowns, considering me. Then, for some reason, he looks up and around my room. It’s like it’s the first time he’s noticing it, beyond all my torn things, my broken little life. His eyes land on something and I crane my head. It’s Mama’s photo.

Without a sound, Ares slides off. Panic slices through me. No, no, no. I’ve ruined it, I’ve fucking ruined it all. This isn’t what he wants. I’m not what he—

Ares settles onto the mattress beside me, his gauze-wrapped hand stretched over my head and out of the way. Tilting my face with the other, he trails his fingers along my jaw.

“I wish I could change it. How we met.”

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