Then Kataida was pushing herself away, wild-eyed and panting, her shirt disheveled and blood on her lips. She wiped her mouth with the side of her hand, and Ares smiled.
“You see?” they said. “Beautiful.”
Chapter
Five
Facedwith the terrifying prospect of having everything she’d ever wanted, of indulging in every fantasy she’d tormented herself with over the years while working herself furiously with her hand or rubbing on a pillow, Kataida was too much of a coward to take what Ares was offering.
They still thought she was Atreus, and she was beginning to think that not only had her ancestor loved someone else more, he might not haveeverloved Ares the way Ares thought. Given she was technically her ancestor, it tangled all her thoughts and feelings up so badly that she didn’t know how to begin to make sense of it. All she knew was that Ares, with their smile and their fire-bright eyes, wanted someone else.
Or maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe itwasthat they wanted her, not just the dominance and her sadism, in the way Chloe and Atlas had wanted it, but her bloodlust, her violence, the darker fantasies that woke her in a sweat in the middle of the night. Maybe she just wasn’t sure how to handle the fact that she could have it, and with agod, at that.
“What is it?” Ares asked. “Why are you stopping? Take me to your bed.” Ares made a grab for her. “Do you want me to havea cock? I can, you know, if that’s what you want. Full breasts to suck on, too, I can give you that. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You don’t need to give me anything,” she said, taking their hand. “You’re a god. Why are you trying so hard to make yourself what a mortal wants?”
“That’s what I am,” Ares said, carrying her hand to their mouth, kissing it, sending shockwaves of heat through her. “I’m shaped by mortals. I always have been, and I’m yours to wield, beautiful, I’m–”
“What’s my name?” Kataida demanded, pulling her hand free, grabbing Ares around their throat. “Say it. My name.”
Ares stared at her, and she could feel them drawing breath before they said, after a very noticeable pause, “Kataida.” Ares tipped their head back as best they could, showing more of their throat. “You’re Kataida Akti.”
“Who am I not, Ares?” she demanded. “Tell me.”
“Atreus,” Ares said, and their face fell. “You’re not Atreus.”
“I need you to understand that. You don’t know me. I’m not him, the man you loved and lost. Until you understand that–”
“I do,” Ares said quietly. “I do.”
Kataida tightened her grip. They needed to understand who she was, and who she wasn’t. “I love my family. I love Arktos. I want this, yes, but I don’t want to see my country on fire. I won’t love you for the sake of your destruction.”
“You revere me,” Ares said, shallowly against her grip. “You said so.”
“I do. Reverence isn’t what you mean when you speak of Atreus.” Kataida touched her fingers to their face. “There is a truth to our history that no one knows but my family. I’ll tell it to you, but first I need to make sure my country is safe. But you, Ares–I have met your brother, Azaiah. I even met your brother Astra, who is the Weaver of dreams. They have companions, butthey are their own person. You need to be that, too. You woke up and the world has changed. Maybe there are things you might like in it.”
“What sorts of things?”
She took their face in her hands, wondering at how easy it was to touch them when she had so much trouble with affection even when it came to her own family. “Your sibling, Astra. If you slept tonight, would you see them?”
Ares was staring at her, unblinking, but they nodded. “Yes. They’re always visiting. They have a companion now, too.” Their voice went a bit sulky. “Everyone does but me.”
“Visit your siblings. Be here, while we can, before we meet what is waiting for us.”
Ares’ eyes were a bonfire in the dark. “You know what waits, Kataida. You’ve been waiting for it, forme, even if you say you haven’t. Even if you pretend your heart and your soul don’t burn for me and what the drums herald in Arktos. It’s all right. I understand.”
Tears burned her eyes because she knew they meant it. “I know you do.”
They were both quiet as they went back into the house, and Kataida, feeling awkward and still restless and aroused, didn’t know quite what to say to her houseguest. It had bothered her, the way her family spoke to Ares at dinner, but she wasn’t sure she could articulate exactlywhy. The only other god who regularly visited them was Azaiah, but given his connection with Aleks, and Nyx’s with Elena, he was treated like family. Malik, who couldn’t quite manage Azaiah’s name, even called himUncle Death.
Ares was humming under their breath, a soft smile on their face that made her wonder if they were even present, or if they were thinking again of Atreus. What had her ancestor said to make the god of war so starry-eyed that they would think theirawakening somehow ordained by the soul of a former general who had gone beyond the river centuries ago? What pretty lies had Atreustoldthem?
Then again, whatwaswar if not a pretty lie? Soldiers told themselves their sacred songs, their chants and marches, had some effect on the outcome, but of course they didn’t. The winner of a war was the side brutal enough to subjugate the other, either through slaughter or the strong-armed negotiations that came after surrender. The further away the Arkoudai were from their bellicose beginnings as a country, the more gloriously war was spoken about, as if it were some beautiful tradition in their past. Kataida wasn’t immune to it either, and she wondered if Atreus had simply been willing to do whatever was necessary to win, even if it meant lying and seducing the god of War themselves.
“Ares,” she said softly, and sighed as Ares turned toward her with an rapt expression. “Can you sleep?”
“Yes, but I’ve been asleep long enough.” They smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t break your things.”
