Ares' Temptation (2 page)

Ares whirled around, trying to discern the direction of the voice. Had it come from the painting? The bench? He backed against the vase, the white lilies brushing his neck.

Sharp pain pricked his back. Dizziness came over him. His sword fell, and he dropped to the Persian rug on the floor. The foyer blurred into streaks.

One of the naked women had sprung from the vase. In her hand shone a needle with his blood on the tip. She laughed, growing larger with each second. Black feathers sprouted from her back as she transformed from a maiden into a wrinkled hag.

Fury rose inside him. This was not an honorable way to kill a foe! Nor was it an honorable way to die. “What have you done to me?”

“Don’t worry, dear warrior.” The witch bent over and caressed his cheek with the cracked, yellow nail of her index finger. “You are not going to die. I simply cursed you.”

“Cursed?” The pain moved from his back to his limbs. He gritted his teeth, pulling himself up into a kneeling position. His arm reached for the hilt of his sword.

She backed away. “Yes. The first person you touch, whether it be god, goddess, nymph, satyr, or mortal will take your strengths, and in turn you will take their weaknesses.”

“Take my strengths? What twisted witchery is this?”

“The kind meant to teach you a lesson.” She circled around him. “You choose your target. But, heed this.” She raised a gnarled finger to the air. “The only way you can break the curse is for them to fall in love with you. Only then will you regain your powers. The target cannot know of this curse, or you will lose your powers for all eternity. They must give you back what is yours freely, unconditionally, and without regret.” She smiled as if it were the most brilliant curse ever concocted.

“You vile woman!” Ares stood despite the pain spreading through him. This witch would ruin him! How dare she put him in such a vulnerable position?

She plucked a lily from the bouquet, stuck it in her mouth, and chewed. “You are fortunate. I could have taken a head for a head.”

Rage boiled in his veins, waking the great beast inside him. Ares growled and lunged at Hekate. His hands grasped for her neck. She disappeared in a puff of black smoke, and he ran right through her, knocking the vase from the table. The porcelain shattered in a hundred pieces on the floor.

The pain receded, and Ares breathed deeply, trying to calm himself and make sense of her words. The first person he touched? Then he wouldn’t touch anyone, not until he could find some manner of ridding himself of this evil. All he needed to do was travel back to Mount Olympus and find someone who could break the curse. Then he could avoid the whole part about falling in love. He had no time for such foolery.

Ares turned to leave when a sweet voice behind him said, “There you are. They’re serving the main course. Pan and Syrinx came looking for you at our table.”

He turned back toward the foyer. The mortal known as Kaye strode from the hallway toward the remnants of the vase. “What the hell happened here?”

In an instant, a bump formed in the Persian rug, and Kaye stumbled. Flailing her arms, she tumbled forward. With the five-inch heels she was wearing, she could break her neck or land on a sharp piece of vase, cutting her throat open. Mortals were so fragile.

Ares dove forward and caught her, inhaling the scent of wild strawberries as he cradled her head in the crook of his arm. Her skin felt soft and sweet against his. She gazed up at him, and their eyes locked. Electricity sizzled between them, and Ares’ knees weakened. He struggled to hold her up. Did her effect on him make him weak?

No, it was worse than that. He was done for.

His powers were gone.

Chapter Two

All-Star Catch

“Um…thanks.” Kaye pulled herself from Ares’ arms. Saving her from smacking her head on the floor was the last thing she had thought this arrogant macho god would do. Apparently, from the stunned look on his ruggedly handsome face, it was the last thing he thought he’d do as well.

She smoothed over the front of her dress. One of her heels had flung across the room and hit the wall.
Stupid, clumsy me.
Why she’d chosen five-inch heels for this occasion was beyond her. But she’d seen them in the display in Macy’s, glittering like Dorothy’s ruby slippers, and when she’d tried them on, they made her tall as a goddess herself. She couldn’t resist. If only she’d known they would ultimately strip all her confidence away in a mortifying plunge. Embarrassment ate its way up her neck as she scurried over, grabbed the shoe, and slipped it on.

Ares picked up a piece of the vase. A slender woman’s leg kicked across the front, detached from its owner. “It is the vile witch’s doing.”

Still suffering from the shock of falling, along with the amazing feeling of being held by a gorgeous god, Kaye couldn’t make sense of his words. “What?”

“Hekate. She raised the carpet and forced you to fall.”

“You mean old Crowfeathers?”

He lifted an eyebrow at the name, then nodded.

Her veins turned to ice just thinking about how the woman had stared at Ares with such loathing and vengeance. “How do you know?”

“She was here before you came in. I thought she’d rid me of her vile presence. But I saw the carpet bunch up of its own accord.”

Kaye hugged her stomach. “Why? What did I ever do to her?”

Ares glanced away as if mentioning the witch had been a mistake. “It is not your concern.”

Anger ripped through her. “Of course it’s my concern. What if she comes back?”

“She will not return this eve.”

Kaye narrowed her eyes. There was a bigger picture here. He was hiding something. “How do you know?”

He sighed as if giving in. Something about him had changed. He wasn’t as confident, and his breastplate didn’t gleam quite as brightly as before. His broad shoulders slumped slightly within the confines of the armor. “She meant you no harm. I was her intended target.”

The witch wanted him to trip on the floor? Really? That would do little more than annoy him. By the looks of Crowfeather’s stare and given that Ares had beheaded her brother, she was out to do much worse. Kaye scratched her chin. Something smelled fishy, and it wasn’t the main course.

“Good thing I was the one who fell, then.” She laughed, seeing if he’d take the bait. He looked so sullen, she had the urge to cheer him up.

A perplexed look furrowed his brow. “Why is that?”

“With all that armor, you’d go down like a log.”

To her surprise, he actually smiled at her joke. It was the first time she’d seen him smile all evening. She hadn’t thought it was possible, but he looked even more gorgeous. He didn’t offer her any more information, but the smile was enough for now. “Come on. We’re missing the stuffed shells.”

Ares froze as if he feared reentering the room. This new vulnerable side drew her in. Why would the God of War bat an eye at a social event? He didn’t seem to have a problem before. Whatever had happened between him and that witch must have shaken him. “You are coming back, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I’m trapped here with you anyway.”

“Trapped with me?” She whirled around. The second she started to like him, he had to open his arrogant mouth. “We’ll see who comes to get you next time.”

…

Ares watched the haughty mortal’s hips swing in that skin-tight purple gown as she strutted down the hall without him. He would have to craft some sort of strategy if he was ever going to make her fall in love with him. She clearly hated him and frowned upon everything he embodied. They couldn’t even have a civilized conversation for five minutes without him angering her.

Unfortunately, she was the only way he could reclaim his powers.

Run after her, you fool.

Ares didn’t budge. He was the God of War for Hades’ sake. He didn’t run after women. Especially know-it-all mortals who judged him on the spot. He held up his hand, attempting to blink himself back to Mount Olympus.

Nothing happened.

Curse Hekate
! He truly was stranded on Earth, and the only way back to his army lay in that pretty woman’s heart. How he was going to steal it baffled him more than any tactical challenge he’d faced before.

Shaking his head, he followed Kaye back to their table. She was already diving into the stuffed shells and making conversation with a flirty satyr with v-shaped eyebrows and curly, blond hair. Ares sat and waited for her to turn around.

“You know, I helped Pan win Syrinx back once she figured out who he really was.” She sipped a glass of champagne, her back still to Ares.

“Why, you little matchmaker.” The satyr played with a curl of her dark hair that had come loose. “How did you manage that?”

“Well—”

If only she saw him in his true form, goat legs and all. Ares cleared his throat very loudly and clanged his ale mug on the table. Kaye froze. It was so easy to get a mortal’s attention.

She turned back toward him. “Excuse me, we’re trying to have a conversation here.”

The venom is her words choked him. He recovered quickly and waved her away. “By all means.”

As Kaye prattled on about saving Pan and Syrinx’s relationship, Ares tapped the table with his fork. This problem would require something he’d never had to cultivate before: charm.

True to form, it took less than ten minutes for the satyr to find a beautiful goddess and prance across the room. Kaye returned to her food, pouting.

This was his chance before someone else approached her. Ares used the solemn expression he’d perfected over the years. “My apologies. I know we haven’t seen eye to eye.”

Kaye cut off a piece of her stuffed shell. She wouldn’t even make eye contact. “I’d say.”

Her dark curls were pinned back with small, pearl ornaments. An urge to pull one of them out and release the curls down her neck overcame him. He blinked it away. “Satyrs are not known for their loyalty. Even the most powerful goddesses cannot keep them long.”

She glanced away, trying to hide her embarrassment. “It’s not like he’s my date or anything.”

Was she talking of dried fruit? Ares searched his memory of everything he knew of mortal interactions—which wasn’t much. “A date?”

Kaye stared at him as if he was trying to fool her. “You know, a companion.”

A current of jealousy rose inside him. He searched the room. “Who is your companion?”

Kaye scrunched her eyebrows. “Do you think I’d be sitting with you if I had one?”

Was she mocking him again? Anger rose inside him, and he squelched it back down. He’d have to suffer her ridicule if he was to win her over. “Seeing as though you do not have a…date, let us continue our discourse on warfare and peace.”

She stared at him as if he were mad. “I thought you were quite finished with my thoughts on peace.”

Ares swallowed. He had been. Conversation was idle chatter he only used when necessary. But now it was imperative. “You have some valid points I’ve never considered.”

She turned toward him with a skeptic frown.

He took a deep breath. “I’d like to atone for my earlier inattention.”

“What are you going to do? Behead someone in my honor?”

Ares balked and glanced away, searching for the server. He needed another mug of ale. Sparring with swords was so much easier than with words. Kaye had more than a few sharp barbs at her disposal. “Perhaps you would like to dance, when the music begins.”

She coughed into her napkin as if the bite of pasta caught in her throat. “I didn’t know a serious warrior like yourself danced.”

“Only when forced.” He flinched. He shouldn’t have said that. “Or when a beautiful woman is without a partner.”

Kaye narrowed her eyes. “So, is someone forcing you?”

In some manner, yes. But that answer would never do. “More like there’s a beautiful woman in front of me.”

Kaye’s fine features brightened. “If you put it that way, then, sure.”

Triumph coursed through him. He’d won his first skirmish. “Excellent.” This wouldn’t be as hard as he had thought. He may even regain his powers by the end of the week.

Beside him, Kaye lost control of her fork. Again. It twirled in the air, and he expected it to land in his lap before she caught the utensil in one swipe, just above his left leg. Her eyes brightened. “Would you look at that. I’ve never been so coordinated in my entire life.”

“A marvelous feat, indeed.” He aimed to appear pleasantly surprised, but underneath his calm smile, shock and frustration spread through him.

Just as Hekate had said, the mortal’s touch had stolen his powers.

Chapter Three

Two Left Feet

Kaye threw the fork up in the air and caught it like an expert juggler each and every time. Something crazy was going on. Maybe all these gods and goddesses were rubbing off on her? Or was it a magical potion in the champagne?

Beside her, Ares drew lines in the moisture on the side of his ale mug. After about the fourth throw, she lost his attention. In fact, he seemed somewhat annoyed.

Kaye put the fork down. “You haven’t touched your shells.”

She’d spent enough time with Syrinx to know gods and goddesses didn’t need to eat, but everyone else in the room was making a show of enjoying the courses, even if they didn’t require nourishment.

“I prefer venison and roasted boar.”

“Oh.” She bet he hunted it himself and skewered the animals with his sword. Honestly, why she agreed to dance with him was beyond any reason or logic. But he’d called her pretty, and she was at a wedding, and that was it. It was just one dance. This relationship couldn’t go any farther than light-hearted bickering. What could a war god and a floral assistant possibly have in common? Waitresses came around with plates of vanilla cake with pink frosting. Small sugar doves decorated the side of each piece. Kaye tried to find some common ground. “What about dessert?”

He waved the waitress away. “Dessert doesn’t interest me.”

“Oh come on.” She dug her fork in. “You have to try it. Here, have a bite of mine.”

Ares frowned, and Kaye wanted to crawl under the table. What was she thinking? The God of War didn’t eat cake.

He sighed as if he’d changed his mind and nodded. “Very well.”

She held the fork to his mouth. The gesture seemed strangely intimate, like they were two lovers sharing dessert on their anniversary. What had come over her?

She ignored her logic and fed him the bite, trying not to stare at his perfectly sculptured lips, or the way his chin had an indent, or the light brushing of stubble along his strong jaw. “What do you think?”

He swallowed the bite and licked his lips. “Decent. A little too sweet.”

Kaye cut herself a bite. She would have preferred he feed her in return, but she wasn’t about to push it. She took a bite, trying to not think about how recently the fork was in his mouth.
Too late.

She blushed and hid her face behind a napkin. “It’s just sweet enough for me.”

A band of men with lutes and fiddles began to play, and Pan and Syrinx started their first dance.

Ares sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. “I cannot comprehend what happened. They were both content with their reputations—Pan as the God of Fertility and Syrinx as the Goddess of Chastity. Now they’ve given it all up. For what?”

There he went, opening his big mouth and ruining the moment. Kaye shook her head. “Syrinx realized that being the God of Chastity didn’t define who she really was, and Pan could only live for so long as the God of Fertility before realizing all those one-night stands had no meaning. They gave it up freely, without regret. For something us mortals call
love
.”

“Freely. For love.” Ares’ gaze grew distant, his face solemn.

Had her words hit a nerve?

Others joined the happy couple on the dance floor. If Kaye didn’t move quickly, she’d lose her gall. As much as he irritated her with his bombastic warrior ideals, she still wanted to feel his strong arms around her one more time. It didn’t mean she’d have to marry him. Besides, it looked as though he needed more cheering up.

She touched his arm lightly. “You owe me that dance.”

“Of course.” He stood and offered his arm.

Here goes nothing.
Reminding herself to enjoy this, because it wasn’t every day she danced with such a muscly hunk, she stood. Her fingers couldn’t even wrap around the circumference of his forearm. The way his muscles moved under that armor as he walked made her picture running her hands over them, or clutching them in a moment of passion.

As he led her to the dance floor, her heart beat a little faster. Out of the corner of her vision, the water nymph with the petals on her nipple gawked with her mouth wide open.

Yeah. Go me.

She wove both arms around his neck, which was so high out of her reach, she could barely lace her fingers together. His large hands slid around her waist, claiming her in his grasp. The music slowed to a lyrical ballad, and a single reed flute played in the background.

The room heated, and a strong magnetic pull drew her closer to him so their bodies were pressed together. His armor was hard and smooth against the fabric of her dress. He bent his face towards hers, and his warm breath brushed her lips. An undeniable urge to kiss him welled up inside her. He gazed at her as though she were a goddess, the only goddess in the room. Or at least, the only one worthy of dancing with such a god.

His lips moved, mouthing the words
kiss me
. It wasn’t a question, it was a command.

She probably wouldn’t see any of these gods or goddesses again. Hell, she probably wouldn’t see him again. She might as well live a little before her old maid status became a sure thing. Kaye closed her eyes and rose onto her toes. Her lips met his, and she lost herself to hot fireworks. His lips were soft, succulent, and he tasted like sweet wedding cake.

His hand moved up her back to her neck, and his warm fingers threaded through her hair, giving her prickles of ecstasy all over. Never had a kiss felt so complete.

They shifted, moving to the music like lovers under the sheets, never breaking the kiss. She’d never think of flute music the same way again. Kaye lost all sense of time and place. She was in some hot heaven where passion met desire, and his name was Ares.

A crushing weight fell on her foot. She cried out, breaking the kiss.

“My apologies.” Ares’ face filled with shock and embarrassment.

Kaye glanced down. The front of her expensive high heel had caved in, putting excruciating pressure on her toes. Had he just stepped on her foot?

How much did he weigh, anyway? Three hundred pounds?

She limped off the dance floor. Ares called after her, and she ignored him, stumbling to the bathroom. Everyone was watching: Old Beardy, the furry giant, even Syrinx and Pan. Syrinx called out her name, and she wanted to crawl under the table and die of embarrassment, even though she wasn’t the one with two left feet. Too many times she had been the center of attention for the wrong reasons: when she dropped the tray of hot coffee on the customer in the restaurant, when she fell in the fountain during a museum tour on a first date, the time she waved her arm in the Swarovski crystal shop only to break several display cases to shattering bits.

The whole thing was so ironic, she would have laughed had she not been in so much pain. Klutzy Kaye had never danced so smoothly in her life. And here she was, the brunt of the joke once again.

Somehow it must have been her own fault. The God of War couldn’t possibly be clumsy. Maybe she moved her foot right under his toe? Or did the wrong dance move? Or distracted him with her exceptional kissing ability.

Well, maybe not the last one, but a girl could dream.

Kaye tore off her shoe. Her toes were red as hot peppers. She turned on the cold water and shoved her foot under the faucet. The cold stream numbed the pain. She checked for broken bones, but nothing seemed out of place.

The bathroom door burst open, and Syrinx ran in. “There you are! What happened? Are you okay? The last thing I saw was you…kissing Ares on the dance floor.” She furrowed her brow as if Kaye had kissed a frog instead. “Then you shouted and stumbled off.”

“He. No, I.” She waved her hand over the sink. “Somehow my toe landed under his foot.”

“That’s impossible.” Syrinx examined her toes. “Ares may be an arrogant warmonger, but he’s also the most agile, athletic, and well-balanced god in that room.”

Kaye rubbed her foot. “It must have been something I did.”

Syrinx smiled. The golden bathroom lights brought out the rays of sunshine in her hair. “You must have enchanted him.”

“Naw.” Kaye glanced down, feeling sheepish. Surprisingly, the pain had receded. She popped the toe back up in her shoe and slipped it on.

“You may not know this, but no one—I repeat: no one—has ever seen Ares dance with a woman, never mind kiss one.”

Kaye placed her hand over her heart. A lightheaded giddiness came over her. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Wow.” She’d never felt more special in her life.

“Don’t tell me you want him,” Syrinx scoffed. “He can be…very difficult to deal with at times.”

“It is something I’ll have to consider.” Kaye mulled it over for about two seconds. “Yeah, I’m thinking I want to try.” Even if it wasn’t forever—because a mortal couldn’t marry a god; she was just a speck in his eons-long existence—he’d do for now.

“All right.” Syrinx smiled and put her arm around her shoulders. “There’s no sense spending the rest of the night in here. Especially when there’s a hunky Greek god waiting. I’ll help you to your seat.”

“Thank you. And congratulations by the way.” Shame came over her. This night wasn’t about her, it was about Syrinx and Pan. She hadn’t even spoken with her friend after the ceremony, and here she was complaining about another bad date.

Syrinx patted her shoulder. “No problem. Considering you’re the one who brought us together, I should be thanking you.”

Syrinx steered her from the bathroom. The party had grown downright crazy. Nymphs danced on tables, gods threw lightning bolts across the room, and Pan had started playing his flute with the band. Old Beardy slept like Rip Van Winkle in his seat.

Kaye scanned the room. Where was Ares? His seat was empty, and a god reciting poetry stood in the place where she’d left the war god on the dance floor.

“I’m sure he’s here somewhere,” Syrinx reassured as two goddesses linked her arms and took her away.

The piece of cake Kaye had eaten earlier sat like a brick in her abdomen, and disappointment trickled through her. She was the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. How could she have ever thought the God of War could like her? He’d probably been so embarrassed to be seen kissing her, he ran away on some golden chariot driven by unicorns.

“Typical.” She slumped in her chair and downed another glass of champagne, vowing never to entangle herself with a god again.