I ended up in the gardens. The same gardens where Ares had found me after the council meeting, where he'd first started breaking down my walls.I sank onto a stone bench and buried my face in my hands.How had I been so stupid? So blind?All those moments, the cabin, the wolves, the way he'd looked at me in the chapel, I'd thought they meant something. I'd thought he was changing. That we were changing.But it was all a lie. A manipulation. A game.And I'd played right into his hands like the naive fool I was.The pain in my chest wasn't just heartbreak. It was humiliation. It was the sickening realization that every tender moment, every whispered word, every gentle touch had been calculated. Weaponized. I'd handed him my heart and he'd used it to stab my father."There you are."I looked up to find Julius standing at the entrance to the gardens. But this wasn't the Julius I knew. His face was a mask of cold fury, his eyes glittering with something dark and dangerous. His hands weren'
But he didn't die.The blade glowed brighter for a moment, then dimmed. My father slumped forward, bleeding, wounded, but still breathing. Still alive.I couldn't process it. Couldn't understand. My father was alive. He was hurt, bleeding, but alive.Ares stared at the blade in his hand, confusion flickering across his face. "What—""It didn't work," Julius said, moving forward with poorly concealed satisfaction. "The blade isn't activated properly.""But I saw—" Ares looked at me, and for the first time since we returned, I saw real emotion in his eyes. Shock. Confusion. "The blood activated it. The moonlight—""Apparently not well enough," Luciana purred from her throne. "How unfortunate."My father coughed blood, his body shaking, but his eyes never left Ares's face. "You stupid boy," he rasped. "You really thought it would be that easy?"Ares yanked the blade free, and my father crumpled to the ground. Guards surrounded him, checking his wounds, but he was still breathing. Still a
The Dead Moors looked exactly like their name—dead. Gray mist clung to everything, thick enough to choke on, and the ground squelched under my boots like rotting flesh. No birds sang here. No insects buzzed. Just silence, heavy and wrong, pressing down on my chest until every breath felt like work.Ares walked ahead, his hand never straying far from his sword. Through the bond, I felt his tension, sharp as broken glass.We'd been walking for hours. My legs ached. My back throbbed where the wolf had slammed me yesterday. But I kept moving, kept following him deeper into this nightmare landscape, because somewhere in this cursed place was the chapel. And in that chapel was the blade that would end everything.Last night felt like a fever dream now. His hands on my skin. His mouth on mine. The way he'd made me forget, just for a few hours, why I was supposed to hate him.But morning had come, cold and unforgiving. We'd dressed in silence, packed our things, and started the trek to the De
The Dead Moors looked exactly like their name—dead. Gray mist clung to everything, thick enough to choke on, and the ground squelched under my boots like rotting flesh. No birds sang here. No insects buzzed. Just silence, heavy and wrong, pressing down on my chest until every breath felt like work.Ares walked ahead, his hand never straying far from his sword. Through the bond, I felt his tension, sharp as broken glass.We'd been walking for hours. My legs ached. My back throbbed where the wolf had slammed me yesterday. But I kept moving, kept following him deeper into this nightmare landscape, because somewhere in this cursed place was the chapel. And in that chapel was the blade that would end everything.Last night felt like a fever dream now. His hands on my skin. His mouth on mine. The way he'd made me forget, just for a few hours, why I was supposed to hate him.But morning had come, cold and unforgiving. We'd dressed in silence, packed our things, and started the trek to the De
I didn't care about taking it slow or being gentle. I needed Ares's raw, primal intensity to tear through the hollow ache of grief and confusion that had swallowed my life whole. I wanted him to fuck away the pain, to fill me with something tangible, something gritty and alive in this falling-apart cabin that reeked of damp wood and lingering smoke.He pushed into me, hard and deep, one brutal thrust that burned like cheap whiskey going down, stealing the breath from my lungs and lighting up every nerve ending I had. The sharp sting felt incredible, a rough kind of pain that anchored me to those creaking floorboards, to the sweat-slicked heat of his body pressing me down. The firelight danced weakly, casting everything in shades of orange, painting his skin in sweaty, golden streaks, his muscles bunching and moving under my desperate hands.Ares went completely still, his body wound tight like a coiled spring, his jaw clenched so hard I could see the veins standing out in his neck. Hi
The fire crackled between us, throwing shadows across the cabin walls that danced like living things. Outside, the forest had gone quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavy with watching eyes.I should have been exhausted. Should have collapsed onto the sleeping pallet and let unconsciousness take me.Instead, I was hyperaware of Ares sitting across from me, his chest bare except for the bandages I'd wrapped around his ribs. The firelight played across his skin, highlighting every scar, every line of muscle earned through violence.He'd been watching me too. I could feel his gaze even when I wasn't looking, feel the weight of his attention through the muted bond."You should rest," he said finally, his voice rough. "Tomorrow will be harder. The Dead Moors don't forgive exhaustion.""I'm not tired." A lie. Every part of me ached, screamed for sleep. But the thought of closing my eyes, of being vulnerable in this small space with him, sent anxiety skittering down my spine."Liar." But t