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I think of his name and try to remember Greek mythology classes.
Ares, the god of war. In fact, if I remember correctly, the Olympian god ofwildwar, bloodthirsty, slaughter personified.
Yes, I think it fits. Even though at the end of our conversation he tried to appear cool, the aggression is latent in him. However, it doesn't make me feel afraid. It sends an inexplicable shiver throughout my body.
Clear your mind, Serenity. He is your guardian, and a very angry guardian.
Very handsome too, a little devil whispers in my ear.
My phone vibrates with a message.
Unknown number:Move. You have three minutes.
Me:How do you know I’m not ready yet?
I save his number in my contacts, and seconds later, a new message arrives.
Ares:Because you seem like a thinker, girl. I’m a man of action. Get dressed, or I’ll come in there again and pick out your outfit.
Me:That is not your role as guardian, Ares.
Ares:I don’t follow rules. I create them. It won’t take much to make you understand that.
I drop the phone on the vanity counter, feeling my whole body shake with excitement. I take off the rest of my clothes faster than I've ever done in my life, and without worrying about putting on a bra, I pull the black dress I wore to the theater over my head.
I look in the mirror and grimace at the heavy makeup I wore for the performance, but I don't have time to take it off, so running my fingers through my hair to untangle it, I get ready to leave.
I throw all my clothes into the huge bag I brought, except for the skirt I wore on stage, making a mental note to tell Madam Villatoro that I left it here.
I push my ballet shoes, which from today onwards have been promoted to “lucky” ones, to the bottom of my bag as best I can, and then my hand bumps into a piece of paper. I pull it out and see it's the ticket that Madam found and gave me to keep.
I look back at the rack, and a chill—nothing at all like the excitement of meeting my guardian—reaches the back of my neck.
For a moment, I consider talking to Ares about it, but then I dismiss the idea. I don't want him to think I’m a baby the first time we meet. The huge number of bodyguards watching me is enough.
"You're late," he says as soon as he sees me.
"Sir—"
“No‘sir,’”he corrects me.
"Youchange your mood very quickly."
"On the contrary, Serenity. It's always the same."
So he manipulated me into giving in. Is that what he's saying between the lines?
"Are you hungry?"
I'm starving, but there’s not much I can eat at this time of night if I want to avoid gaining weight. "Not very," I lie.
He watches me as if he knows I'm lying, and I feel my face heat up. The curse of having fair skin.
“You're hungry,” he says, and I shrug.
"I can't eat at this hour."
"What?"