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Ares has his moments.
“I have to get ready for my fight.” My gorgeous god of a man leans closer, lips parted. “I need one more kiss for good luck, little dragon.”
This kiss is quicker than the last one but equally intense.
“I’m winning this fight for you.” He squeezes my ass, lifting my feet off the ground. “Sit with Apollo in the front row.” Ares tips his head at the reserved seating, separate from the rest of the crowd. “Atlas is coming with me.”
Apollo moves behind me. “C’mon, Mistress. We’ll meet up with my brothers after the fight.”
I stare at Ares as he walks away. It’s hard not to when he’s the epitome of perfection. His back has more muscles than I can count, and his ass… holy hell, he has a nice ass. Don’t even get me started on his abs or those thick arms. And that big cock beneath his black-and-gold boxing trunks.
Apollo hands me a silk pocket square. Of course, he’s wearing a suit. The man never dresses down, except the night he watched me with his brothers. I saw a lot more of Apollo and loved every second of it.
I narrow my eyes at him, confused by the gesture. “What’s this for?”
“So you can wipe the drool from your mouth.”
I swat at the silk square and roll my eyes. “I’m not drooling.”
He tucks it into his pocket and laughs. “Yes, you are.”
“What can I say?” I follow him to our chairs and sit beside him. “Your brother looks good without a shirt. And he just kicked that guy’s ass for me. I’m a little worked up over it.”
We take our seats and cheer along with the crowd. I have no idea what to do, so I look to Apollo, who knows all the fighters.
After two more fights, it’s time for Ares to enter the ring for the main event. The announcer steps into the center of the ring with a microphone in hand.
He raises it to his mouth and says, “Bets are closed. So, put your money away, motherfuckers. If you didn’t get here in time, oh fucking well. I don’t want to hear it. Next time, do what you’re told.”
He announces Ares’s opponent first. His nickname is Sugar Shane, and the crowd boos him. But Ares, who fights under the name God of War, gets a round of applause. The place goes wild, fists punching the air and people screaming his name.
They love him.
And why wouldn’t they?
Both fighters step into the center of the ring, and the referee gets between them. Ares rolls his shoulders to loosen up, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
With a crooked grin, Ares leans forward to speak to his opponent. The other man scowls—an insult, I assume, since I can’t hear him from this distance.
The fight begins with the bell sounding, and the other guy goes straight for Ares. But Ares is faster than him, light on his feet, dodging his advances without much effort.
Shane raises his right hand in front of his face. He ducks a punch and then jabs at Ares. But Ares is there one minute and gone the next.
He does something that reminds me of a dance, goading Shane into chasing after him. His theatrics send me into a fit of laughter. The more he teases Shane, the harder I chuckle.
This is hilarious.
He’s making a mockery of the entire event. Despite his best attempts, Shane can’t land a single punch to save his life. Beaten down by his efforts, I can see the life slowly drain from his body. This must have been Ares’s plan.
A switch eventually flips inside Ares, his eyes lighting up as he attacks his opponent. Ares looks more focused than ever, landing a punch that knocks Shane to the floor. He rolls over on the blue canvas, blood spilling from his mouth. Ares hovers over him.
The referee pushes out his arms to keep Ares at a distance, counting down from ten. A bell sounds, and the crowd goes wild.
They chant, “God of War.”
Ares seems unaffected by the attention. He must be used to having people scream his name. His opponent is unconscious, whereas Ares looks like he just stepped into the ring. And when the referee raises his hand in victory, Ares winks at me, staring like I’m the only person in the room.
He won for me.
