Page 19

I know I’m fighting dirty right now. I know Ares will do anything for me, even ignore his own pain. But I can’t stand that look in his eyes. I can’t bear to see him in such agony. I don’t know any other way to save him from himself right now other than to weaponize myself against him.

“Can you let it go?” I ask softly. “Can you move forward with me? Because I need you. I need you, not the man buried in shame. I’ve missed you so damn much.”

The ache in his eyes makes my breath hitch.

He lifts a hand, cupping my cheek like I might slip away.

“I can,” he says. “For you—I will.”

I don’t wait another second.

I crash into him, our mouths finding each other with a desperation that’s been building for what feels like years, even if it’s only been eight days. His arms wrap around me, tight and possessive, pulling me flush against him like he’ll never let go again.

Ares climbs from the couch, pulling me up with him. I’m ripping his shirt off without thought. He unbuttons my pants and shoves them down my hips. In a matter of seconds, he’s completely naked, and I’m down to nothing but my underwear.

Our lips have hardly broken apart, though. His skin is hot when Ares’ hands come to my hips, and without any effort, he grips them, lifting me clean off the ground.

His lips are savage as he takes possession of mine. My body is a raging inferno of heat as I wrap my legs tightly around his waist. My nipples harden, and I press them into his bare chest.

Roughly, I feel him finger my panties. He tugs them to the side, and the heat of his head is instantly there.

A devious smile comes to my lips as I look down at him. His eyes are burning with the rage of desire.

And then he crosses the room. The cool surface of the wall flattens my back as he presses me into it and thrusts inside of me.

I’m never going to get sick of this. Ares fills me completely. He fits against every bit of my body. He knows exactly every place of my body to touch to send me higher and higher.

I’ll never get tired of touching him. Letting my fingers run over every inch of this tattooed skin. Memorizing every rise and fall of him.

My back presses into the wall as he presses harder into me. The contact between my legs makes my head spin.

Ares buries his face in my neck. He licks my skin, nips it with his teeth.

A hot breath leaves my mouth as I tip my head back to the wall. Ares kisses his way across the front of my throat, one of his hands coming up to cup my breast.

I squeeze him tighter with my thighs.

I feel it rising. Like the tide. Like a tidal wave. It sucks out to sea, and at any moment, it’s going to come crashing back to shore, obliterating everything in its path.

Both of my hands rise to lace into Ares’ hair. My breath is heaving now, my chest rising and falling, pressing my breasts into his chest.

Ares meets my eyes as he thrusts inside me, sharp and quick.

I hold his gaze as I grind my hips against him.

“I love you, Lana,” he growls as he slides in and out, his pace intensifying.

My brain is blissed out. My body is a coiled bomb waiting to go off.

But it’s as easy as breathing when I confess the words. “I love you, too.”

And I don’t stifle my cry as the orgasm crashes into me. I let it rip out of me with every intense pulse. I call out for the entire world to hear if they want.

It’s the best feeling in the world. This, with Ares.

For a while, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to be with him like this again.

But it’s the best thing in the world when I watch his expression intensify, and then he calls out my name as he comes inside of me, every muscle in his body so tight, he could snap me in half if he weren’t careful.

We fall back onto the couch, tangled and breathless, and he groans against my skin like worship, like punishment. Like salvation.

“Mine,” he murmurs, voice cracked and reverent, over and over like a vow.

We lie tangled on the couch, our skin still slick with sweat, the city a soft hum beyond the glass. Ares’ hand rests on my waist, the pads of his fingers tracing slow circles against my side like he’s afraid to stop touching me, like I might vanish.

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. The shadows stretch across his face, catching in the angles of his jaw, in the hollows of his eyes. But there’s no darkness there now. Just wonder.

“You’re different,” he murmurs. “Even just to the touch. Your skin—it’s warmer. Denser, maybe. Like you’re made of lightning instead of flesh.”

I laugh, soft and breathless. “Lightning. That’s a new one.”

He brushes a strand of hair from my cheek. “Your heart... it doesn’t beat like it used to. Slower. Quieter. But it’s so fucking steady.”

I feel his reverence. It’s as if he’s cataloging me like I’m something rare. Like a secret he gets to keep.

Then his face shifts. A shadow creeps across it, more grief than awe.

“I’m still not sure how to feel about what Florence did. She saved you, yeah. But she also made a choice for you. One that can’t be undone.”

I nod slowly. “I know. But I don’t regret it. I didn’t feel like I was losing myself, Ares. I felt like I was stepping into who I was always meant to be.”

His throat works on a swallow. I lean into him, pressing my forehead to his.

“You want to know what it feels like?”

He nods.

“I feel awake. Constantly. Like every cell in my body is humming. My vision’s sharper. I hear things I didn’t even know made sound. I don’t get tired. I don’t feel cold or hot.”

His brows lift slightly, but he says nothing, just watches me like I’m the answer to a question he didn’t know he was asking.

“There’s blood in me now, but it’s not hunger. It’s power. It fuels everything—the regeneration, the energy, the strength. I’m not like you,” I say gently. “I wasn’t born from a curse. I was made. Engineered. A different kind of forever.”

His mouth parts like he wants to say something, but no words come out. Instead, he leans down and kisses the spot just beneath my collarbone.

Then another. And another.

His lips skim down to the curve of my breast, the center of my sternum. “My miracle,” he murmurs.

Lower, to the ridge of my hip bone. “My death and my resurrection.”

I thread my fingers through his hair as he kisses lower still, reverent and slow.

“I would’ve walked through fire for you,” he whispers against my skin. “But now I think you are the fire.”

His mouth worships every inch of me like I’m something holy. And I let him.

Because I am his miracle.

And he is mine.