Page 42 of Beneath Scarred Vows
Sammy swallows, his bravado disappearing under Ares's stare. He scoffs, nods once, and then turns and walks away, his shoulders stiff.
The moment he's gone, Ares turns to me, his expression unreadable. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know," I say simply, "but you've earned some of my loyalty, so in return, you get a taste of what I bring."
He studies my face for a long moment.
"Careful, Katerina. Keep talking like that, and I might think you actually give a damn."
I smile. "Just remember. Maybe I do."
He smiles, and then offers his arm again. "Well then, my wife, let's go see those artifacts."
15
KATERINA
When we arrive home, Ares and I walk up to our room. As we enter and I go to head into the walk-in to change, Ares catches my wrist, pulling me back to him.
"I can't get it out of my head. Why did you really defend me tonight?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.
I shrug. "It seemed like the right thing to do. He was being disrespectful."
"To me," Ares points out. "Not to you."
"Well, I am your wife, aren't I?" I say, the words slipping out before I can think better of them.
Something flashes in Ares's eyes—triumph mixed with something darker. "Yes," he says, his grip on my wrist softening as his thumb starts to rub my skin. "You are, but I didn't know if you viewed yourself as my wife."
He steps closer, and I find myself backed against the wall, Ares's large frame caging me in. He doesn't touch me except for hishand around my wrist, but I feel him everywhere—his heat, his scent, his presence overwhelming my senses.
"Katerina," he says, my name like a prayer on his lips. "I don't know what you're doing to me."
I hold still, unable to form words with him so close.
"You make me feel like," he says, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face.
"Like what?" I whisper.
"Like this," he says, and then his mouth is on mine.
This kiss is nothing like our fake wedding kiss. This is hunger and need and something—and it's not just coming from him. His hand releases my wrist to cup my face, and I find myself reaching for him, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. Ares rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.
"Tell me to stop," he says, his voice rough. "Tell me, and I will."
I don't dare. We start kissing again, and soon his hands are all over me.
He's close, too close.
"I can't," I whisper, pulling back slightly. "Ares, I?—"
His eyes darken with concern. "What is it?"
The words catch in my throat. His mouth is still close enough that I feel his breath against my lips, his hand warm on the small of my back.
"I've never—" I swallow hard, embarrassment and hesitation washing over me. "I've never been with anyone before."
