Page 46 of Shadowed Bond

“Ares…” I don’t even know what I want to say, but he leans closer, placing his hand over mine. His gaze dips to my lips fleetingly, and I swallow, but then he’s looking into my eyes again, his a sharp, liquid silver.

“And if our enemies ever look at you and think they’ve found my weakness, that they know exactly where to strike to bring down Poseidon’s favoured, then good. Let them reach for you. Let them believe they’ve found my weakness. They’ll learn the hard way that they haven’t put their hands around my throat. They’ve put them inside a wolf’s jaw, and I’ll tear their limbs apart for even thinking to target you.”

My heart thunders at his threat and promise.

His words are pure Ares – blunt, to the point, and utterly unfiltered.

“If anyone dares to touch you, then yeah, I’ll drag the whole fucking world under with my own bare hands and watch it drown. And that’s my promise to you,” he growls, his eyes blazing as his aura surges, making the water in the glass ripple.

My heart thunders at the confession because that’s what it is, Ares Westwood’s confession in his own unique style, and for once in my life I do not know what to say.

The hurt is still there, because one speech does not erase what he said beneath the Blood Moon, and I am not foolish enough to pretend otherwise. But the way he looks at me now is not with fear, anger or rejection, but determination, fury and a promise.

“You hurt me,” I say quietly, needing him to know. “The way you were willing to push me away… That hurt.”

“I know.” His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t try to deny it.

“You made it sound like you didn’t want anything to do with me,” I whisper, my voice calm. “Like I was a problem.”

His jaw is still clenched, and pain flickers through his eyes. “You’re definitely not,” he says sharply, as if those words annoyed him, too.

I swallow, hating the sting behind my eyes, and I look away to gather myself. “Well, you made me feel that way.”

“Then, will a sorry suffice, or do you want me to prove it to you?”

“Words are meaningless,” I say, looking away because he is being too honest, and I don’t know what to do with an Ares who is not hiding behind insults.

Then his hand reaches out, almost at my cheek, and I turn sharply to realise he’s stopped. My heart hammers, and not because of the intimacy, but because Ares isn’t the kind of man who asks for anything. He usually just does as he pleases.

I glance down at his hand, then up at him, and raise an eyebrow.

“What happened, Westwood? Are you waiting for permission?” I almost smile.

He looks away, then those hazel eyes snap back to mine, darkening as he speaks. “Yeah. I am.”

I give the smallest of nods, swallowing hard, my heart thundering as his hand grips the side of my neck and face, sparks dancing through me at the contact, the machine behind me giving away my heart rate, as if our sharp hearing isn’t enough.

Then he leans closer, and I think I should remind him that he does not get to tear me open with his words and then expect forgiveness because he genuinely is sorry.

But the moment his thumb brushes across my jaw, my body betrays every sensible thought.

“Ares,” I whisper.

His gaze drops to my mouth again, and this time, he does not look away.

“If you want me to stop, Princess, you need to tell me now,” he says, voice low.

I should…

But…

I don’t.

Instead, I tilt my chin towards him, and whatever restraint he has been holding onto snaps, and he closes the distance between us, his lips meeting mine.

Sparks explode between us. The moment his lips move against mine, he steals my breath away.

Ares Westwood kisses like he argues, like he fights, like he has no patience for anything. Hard, rough, and Goddess help me, I kiss him back with equal desire and hunger.