Chapters Fourteen

Grief, confusion and sadness. All plague me from the time I stepped outside his apartment door to the week following. I had just confessed that I loved him and he breaks up with me? We had gotten past the whole him not being good enough, so what could it be now? His voice while harsh and quiet, didn't match his eyes. So full of sorrow and regret. As if any minute he would take back all that he had said and take me into his arms.

Even my damn dog is distraught. Max waits by the door everyday at five-thirty, waiting for someone who isn't coming. Persephone was at my door the next day having heard from Hades what happened, it seems like she knows more than I do. She cooed that it was okay, that Ares just needed time, but time for what? Everything was perfect before the abduction and, I handled myself quite well. So what does he need time for? He had me, but instead of pulling me closer, he pushed me away.

If he thinks I am going to come pounding on his door, demanding answers, he is sorely mistaken. I refuse to be yanked around and when he pushed me come crawling back. I did that once and he pushed me away again. He needs to get his shit together before trying to get involved in my life. Changing me and then breaking me. No.

Despite not seeing him or hearing from him, lilies still show up outside my door, but unlike last time, I don't accept them. I leave the lilies at the door. Each day it is replaced with a new one, with an occasional gift for Max. Still I leave them. It hurts to see the thoughtful gifts, but it hardens my heart with the fact he doesn't have the guts to come see me himself. These gifts aren't a sorry. They're a consolation prize. I couldn't have him, so here's a lily.

At work my colleagues seem to understand that Ares is a sore subject. No one asks where he is or why I didn't show up to work the day I was taken. The black eye and nose I had to get checked by a doctor doesn't speak well for him, despite it not having been done by his hand, it might as well have. His words hurt more than the hit from the coward from the Crimson Phantoms. Everyone assumes he did it without saying it. I don't call them out or say anything.

What does it matter? He has decided not to be a part of my life.

Fall is creeping in along with the Gods meeting which is early next week. Humiliation is what I will face. The eyes of Zeus, the immortals, Hades, and Ares. Though my wounds will have healed by then, they will have heard what happened and Ares will be praised for getting his way with me. Hephaestus will find out and he will demand something of me.

Maybe he'll even demand I lay before him and let him "reclaim" what's his. My skin recoils with the thought and my stomach bottoms out. Can I do it for a second time? Lay before him as if the site of him doesn't disgust me? Be still while is gnarled fingers roam and strike my face for sullying myself with another man? But it hadn't felt that way. It had felt special and meaningful, just as he'd wanted it to be. Never have I felt as much adoration than when Ares would make love to me again and again. It had never been meaningless, not even once.

That's what makes this all the much worse. His plan to make me fall for him worked so thoroughly that I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't fucking think. What the fuck? I can't even bring myself to regret the way I fell for him. I don't regret the kisses, the flirtation, the sex, the love. How can I bring myself to regret the only thing to ever mean anything to me? The only thing to have actual meaning.

Damn him!

Damn him to the Underworld.

Damn him to Tartarus with all the stupid fucking Titians.

I hate him. I hate him for what he has done to me. I hate him for making my fucking dog upset. I fucking hate him for taking my heart and fucking breaking it!

I slam my hands into the bathroom sink, cracks appearing in ceramic material. When I look up into the steam fogged mirror my eyes are red within the yellow and green bruises around my eyes. Everything that rages inside of me is portrayed on my face. My damp hair hangs limply around my face and a memory surfaces too quickly for me to banish it.

"What do you think of moving in?" Ares asks as he towels off behind me as I brush my teeth.

Spitting out the blue paste and rinsing, gurgling and swishing the water in my mouth and spitting it out as well, I meet his eyes in the mirror. "Don't you think it's a little fast to think about sharing a place?" We haven't even become an official couple. Or even said those three big, crucial words that he is so set on making me admit. Over my dead body.

He grins, a brilliant flash of teeth, trapping me against the sink, chest pressing against my bare back. Damp skin creating a sensual feeling. "Nothing about this has been going fast enough for me." He presses kisses to the back of my shoulder, leading up to my neck, pushing my still wet hair away from my neck.

The spot between my legs is still sore from our vigorous activities in the shower, yet I find that without him even trying I'm ready to go again. His large, calloused hands slide over my hips and up over my ribs, tracing under the swells of my breasts. "Moving in is a big commitment," I breath, my thoughts scattering from my brain. No fair, he uses his body to persuade my mind.

He hums in my ear, the sound reverberating through his chest into my body. "What can I get you to commit to?" He asks, one hand cupping my breast, his other hand splaying over my belly, holding me against him.

I lean into his body, resting my hands over his. I think, what could I commit to? "How about, I start leaving things here. Clothes, dog toys, a brush..." I trail off as he nibbles my ear.

He hums again, contemplating my offer, hand kneading my breast. "I can work with that." The smile in his voice is apparent.

A smile of my own creeps across my face and our eyes meet in the mirror again and shivers sweep through me at the intensity of his gaze. He moves his hand from my belly, running his slender fingers up my body, fingertips brushing over my throat, tilting my chin up as his gaze devours the site of my vulnerable throat under his hand.

I bite my lip in anticipation, waiting for his next move.

He shifts me to face him, one hand fisted in my hair, the other tracing the center of my throat before his lips brush over my skin. An act of trust. To hold one of the most sensitive part of my body under his hand, his control. Testing my trust for him, another act of commitment. My back arches into him as he presses another kiss to the hollow of my throat, speaking his next words into my flesh, acting as a sealing promise.

"You will be mine, Aphrodite."

Though I know I should, I don't argue.

The memory jars me, causing a new ache to build in my chest. With great restraint, I keep the tears at bay and get ready for my day.