Page 55 of Rejected Mate

But an hour late? Now, I was sure he was just standing me up.

Was this his idea of getting back at me? Humiliate me in front of the entire viewing audience?

I tipped the cup of wine into my mouth and slugged it down. It was my second glass. If Ares wasn’t careful, I was going to get drunk, find him, and give him a piece of my mind. Or worse, a piece of this fist.

“Is he coming?” I said, turning to the cameraman in the back of the room.

He gave me a shrug.

“Great.” I grabbed the wine bottle and filled up my glass. One more glass and I was going to find Ares, grab him by the throat—

The door blew open, and Ares rushed into the room.

He was a disheveled mess.

His suit coat was missing, and his shirt was rumpled. He’d turned up both sleeves to reveal his muscled forearms. Parts of the shirt were torn. Several buttons had been ripped away, and there was a dark stain on his chest.

Was that blood?

I forgot all the nasty things I was going to say to him as I stood up and walked around the table toward him.

“What the hell happened to you?” I said, reaching for his chest. “Are you hurt?”

He dodged my touch, heading instead for the wine bottle. He didn’t bother with a glass. Tipping the mouth of the bottle to his own, he took a huge drink. I watched the dark red liquid dribble from the corners of his mouth.

He slammed the bottle down on the table with a heavythunk. Finally, he looked at me.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “‘Sorry I’m late?’ That’s all you have to say? What the hell happened, Ares?”

He shook his head and pushed rumpled hair out of his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” I gestured at what was clearly a wound on his chest. “You call that nothing.”

He glanced at the wound, his jaw tight. It was clear it hurt him. Vampires were supposed to heal with incredible speed, but his cut was still dribbling dark blood onto his white shirt, and he wasn’t mending any faster than all the injured vamps that day in the gym. Why?

I grabbed a napkin and a glass of water. “Let me clean it,” I said, more a command than I’d ever given him.

He inhaled deeply and gave me a single nod.

Carefully, I pulled back the shirt. A raw slash split the skin on his chest in two. I winced at the gore, but knew what I had to do. I wet the napkin in the water and carefully dabbed the wound clean, trying to reveal how bad it really was.

Being close to him engaged all my senses. I could smell his familiar cologne beneath the scent of blood and wine. His body was cool to the touch, so why was mine feeling so flushed?

“This is pretty wide, but with your healing powers, it should get better without stitches, right? All you need is disinfectant and a bandage,” I said, setting the bloody cloth down.

He took my hand, drawing it into his. “No disinfectant or bandage needed, but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” I said. “Tell me what is going on. Why can’t you heal? Is this part of what’s going on with the vampires? This sickness?”

His eyes darted toward the corner of the room. Those damn cameras. “There’s no sickness.”

The heat I was feeling was starting to simmer over into anger. “Forget those stupid cameras. Or better yet, send them away. You can do that, right?”

He shook his head and whispered in my ear. “I can’t do much anymore. I’m trapped here, same as you.”

A shiver jolted right to my core. Somehow, I was feeling confused and turned on by his closeness. Nothing was making sense. How could he be trapped? He was in charge. Or was this some sort of familial duty he had to perform to please William?

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