“Did you hurt him because of me?” I ask gently. He shifts, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, but when I step back, he pauses, searching my face for a clue as to why I’m suddenly nervous. I don’t have an answer for him, I guess I’m just as surprised.
He frowns. “He hurt you.”
His words confirm my fears, and I groan out loud. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” I snap.
“You’re sad for him?” he asks, his voice dangerously low and his eyes glinting with anger.
I take another wary step back, and his jaw clenches tighter. “He didn’t hurt me. Leonie stopped him.”
His eyes blaze with anger as his fists clench by his sides. “Out,” he orders. I stay glued to the spot, enraging him more. He pulls on his chains, making a sudden lunge. “Out,” he yells.
I scream in fright, stumbling back and landing on my arse. Pain shoots through my hand and tears slowly trail down my cheeks as I push to stand. I bring my hand up and see I’ve cut it across the palm. Wrath notices too and sits back down. “Come here,” he orders.
“Well, which is it, Wrath, leave or stay?” He doesn’t respond, just holds out his hand to me. I step closer, enough for him to snatch my hand in his. He stares at the wound as my palm fills with blood. “It doesn’t hurt,” I whisper.
He inhales deeply, almost closing his eyes, and I notice the bulge in his shorts. He tugs my hand closer to his face and presses his tongue at the base of the cut. I watch in astonishment as he drags it along, humming in approval as if he’s savouring the taste of my blood. My breathing hitches as a shiver escapes me.
He releases me. “Now, leave.”
“I don’t want to,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond as our eyes lock on to one another, a heated glare passing back and forth. There’s something between us, a static in the air dragging me closer, and I know he can feel it too.
I place my hands on his shoulders, and he parts his legs until I’m standing between them. His hands cup my backside, and he tugs me closer, causing me to yelp in surprise as his erection prods my leg. Our breaths are heavy, and as we stare into one another’s eyes, something stronger passes between us. His hand goes into my hair, tangling it around his fist and bringing my face closer until our lips are almost touching. His eyes search mine one last time, looking for an objection that isn’t there, and then he kisses me. At first, our lips are just pressed together, and then I gasp and his tongue sweeps into my mouth. Our lips movetogether in a slow dance. I shift then lower to his lap so my knees are either side of his thighs.
The way his cock presses against my private area sends a thrill through me, and I jerk, shuddering. I’ve never been touched there, and I’ve never felt anything like what I feel now. It’s like I’ve lost all control of my body, reacting purely on instinct.
When I pull back, our heavy breaths mingle, and I offer a small smile, suddenly feeling shy. “I have a plan,” I tell him. “Sort of. To get out of here.”
He frowns. “Get out?”
“Yes, there’s a better world out there, Wrath. A place where you won’t have to fight, and I won’t have to live in fear of my father.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s so much you don’t know yet,” I tell him.
I hear Alex’s footsteps, so I quickly climb from Wrath’s lap. “We have to go,” he says from the doorway.
Wrath takes my hand, and I run my palm over his cheek. “I’ll be back.”
“Can I come to this other place?” he whispers.
My heart leaps. “Yes.”
Wrath
A new place. A place I won’t have to fight. I smile at the thought. And I’ll get to be with Wynter, which is all I’ve dreamed about these last few nights.
I lean back and close my eyes.
My mother fills my vision, smiling wide and crouching with her arms held open. I feel my heart swell as I run towards her, crashing against her warm body and wrapping my tiny armsaround her neck. She kisses my cheeks over and over until I giggle, then she stands and takes my hand. “Now, little Ares, I have some errands to run and then we can go for ice cream.” It’s our favourite thing to do, especially when the weather is so hot like today.
I wait outside the butcher’s while my mother chats with the man inside. The door is open, and I can hear her laughter. I pick up a stick and dig it into the dirt. A shadow falls over me, and I look up, shading my eyes from the bright summer sun. Bony fingers dig into my arm, and even though I try to pull free, it’s impossible. He’s too strong. I open my mouth to call for help, but something is shoved in it—a cloth. It tastes funny, and I try to push it out with my tongue as the man now has both my hands as he pulls me along, making sure I’m in front of him and my arms are pulled up high above my head.
I glance down at my new, blue plimsoles. The bright material is now dusty from where I’ve tried to stop walking. Mother will be sad when she sees them, they cost her so much.
There’s a van by the side of the road. It’s the one with pictures of animals on the side. I saw it earlier when Mother was taking me to school. The door slides open, and the man forces me into the back, climbing in after me and sliding it shut again. I can hear her, my mother, calling my name. “Ares? Ares, where are you?”
The van pulls away, and I’m thrown against the side, hurting my arm. As I look up, I notice lots of other boys too, all with cloths hanging from their mouths and hands tied. The man reaches for my hands too, wrapping a thick rope around them and pulling it tight. I wince as it cuts into my wrists.
