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“You are human, and you have been here in Olympus for over a month.”

I frown, confused by his words. “Okay?”

“I’ve not once scented the spilling of your blood.” He inhales deeply again. His chest expanding and deflating with it. “But there is something else Idon’tsmell.”

“Wh—what?”

“The child you carry.”

All of me turns to ice. Fear unlike any I’ve ever felt erupts inside me, threatening to destroy me. The acrid acid of it violates any feeling of safety I’d felt in knowing the Moirai had cloaked my daughters from the Gods that would harm them.

“Get away from me.”

Ares cocks his head, but I don’t miss the daggers of blood that spear the gold in his eyes. “I’m right.”

“I said get off me.” This time, I make to kick at the God of War. The God who, I know deep down, there is a man of courage and honor. But deeper still, there is the bloodlust that rules him.

I saw it for my own eyes. The switch from man to beast. From God to demon.

He catches me around the ankle, his grip like iron even though I’m aware he’s taking pains not to harm me. “Enough.”

I still at the command, spoken so darkly. A war general. A being of bloodlust and devastation. But lingering in the blood that endlessly needles his calm is an honor I can’t deny exists. I can’t look at Ares and only see what everyone else sees. The monster of war.

I will my body to relax into the mattress, watching in wonder as those spears of red pull back to make way for the gold in his eyes.

“You’re right. I’m pregnant.”

“Hades?” He frowns. I nod, and Ares mumbles, “I didn’t think him capable.”

“He’s not—in his human form.”

Ares’ eyes snap to mine so fast, I flinch. “You—” Horror touched with undeniable interest alights his eyes as he takes me in, slowly tracking the length of my body. “You—in his Gods’ Form you?—”

“We had sex, yes,” I cut him off.

Again, his eyes drift over my body before returning to my own. He breathes. “You’re so small.”

“We fit.”

“But you are human. Alive.” His eyes narrow. “How were you able to withstand the heat of him?”

I soften my voice. “I was made for him, Ares.”

Something flashes across his expression. Pain, I think, but before I can study it, it’s gone. “You love him.”

I’m not sure if it’s a question, but I say, “Yes.”

Ares frowns. “I feel?—”

He pulls back to pace the room. Frustration leaks from him, scenting the air with darkness.

I stand, hugging myself as I press gently, “You feel?”

Ares sighs. “I am confused. I feel drawn to you.” His brows furrow before he scrubs a big hand down his face. “I thoughtperhaps you were meant for me, then I realized you were with child. His child.”

“Ares,” I call softly. When his eyes come to mine, I can see the play of confusion in the depths. “There is a soul meant for yours.” As soon as I speak the words, I see the vision of the souls threaded together by the Moirai. A fate none of us can fight. And I know that attached to the beautiful soul of one of my daughters is the pure white soul of the God of War and Courage. Ares.

I touch my hand to his arm and try not to let it hurt when he flinches. I tell him again, “There is a soul meant for yours, Ares. Bound to yours by the threads of fate. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”