Read Deer in Headlights (Hearts and Arrows 1) (Good god series) Online
Authors: Staci Hart
Tags: #romance, #Women's Contemporary Fiction, #Paranormal Romance, #Romantic Comedy
He pressed himself into her, but she wound her leg around his waist and twisted, flipping him over. She sat, her chest heaving, her lips sore, and he reached for the golden chain of her robe. He pulled hard, and it snapped, baring her long, white torso. She ran her hands up the bronze armor he wore, flipped the clasps of his cloak, and slipped her hands under the shoulders to unbuckle the straps. Then, she stretched out, reaching under her pillows for the shackles, gasping as he nipped her breast.
She sat on his lap and held them up, shaking them gently. The links clinked together, and he smiled wickedly as he held his arms above his head in submission. She crawled to the head of the bed and chained him to the marble columns, giving them a tug once they were locked with a devious smile.
She crawled back down his body and pushed his armor off the bed, then untied his sandals and dropped them. With one hand in front of the other, she slinked up the bed like a cat, and when she reached his thighs, she slipped her hands under the robes at his waist to hold him in her hands, running her fingers up and down his length.
He looked down at her, his eyes lust-drunk as she yanked his wide belt and pulled it off. His robes fell open, and she slid off the side of the bed, turning to look over his body that lay stretched out on her bed, naked and vulnerable, his skin stark against the deep red of his cloak. His eyes were dark as he watched her slip one strap of her robes down her shoulder, then the other, his lips parting when they fell to the ground. She turned her back to him and bent down slowly, deliberately, to untie her sandals. He drew a sharp breath, and she smiled to herself.
She walked back to the foot of her bed and crawled up between his legs. Her tongue traced a path up his long body, and she exhaled softly as she moved, her long hair trailing his skin, and he shivered. When she reached his neck, she kissed it deep, slowly, up to his ear. His face turned to hers, his lips searching for her, but she moved out of his reach, running lines back down his body.
She stopped when she reached his length, pausing to lick the ridge of his crown, flicking her tongue when she reached the end. He groaned and turned his head as she ran her tongue down his shaft, then up, before flicking her tongue again. She took all of him, again and again, until he squeezed her with his thighs. It was then that she released him, and he looked down at her with burning eyes, confused.
She rose and climbed up his body, straddled his chest, and leaned back, propping her hand on his thigh. Her fingers slipped into her mouth, then trailed down to her breast to her nipple. She rose and fell with his heavy breaths as his heart thumped under her, his neck craned to watch. Her hand moved down her stomach, between her legs to touch herself, running her fingers around and around as her hips rolled, and Ares lost all composure beneath her.
She paused, panting as she moved down his body again. With one hand, she stroked him, and with the other, she propped herself up and spoke, her voice husky. “There is something you must do for me, Ares.”
Startled by the sound of her voice, he bent his neck to look down at her with heavy lids. “Anything,” he breathed.
“I need you to swear. Swear to me that you will not harm Adonis.” His eyes widened as she spoke.
He growled and tugged at the chains, then pulled hard. They did not yield. His eyes were hot, his teeth bared. “You have tricked me.”
“Not tricked, love, but I needed your attention. Nothing needs to change between us … if you do him no harm.” She stroked faster.
He dropped his head, the muscles in his neck tight. “Gods, Aphrodite. Not now … ”
“I will give you all that you want, Ares. And more.” She dropped down to take him with her mouth again, and he bucked into her, groaning.
“Gods … please … ” He strained against the chains.
“Swear it.” She took him again, stopping before his release.
He called out. “I swear! I swear to you. I will do him no harm. I swear.”
Her heart sang as she climbed up to him and laid her hands on his face. “Thank you,” she whispered and kissed him. His lips were hard on hers as she reached back and lifted him upright, backed up to him, and ran the length of him up and down her entrance before sliding him in, again and again, until they both cried out.
She collapsed on him, her heart hammering in her ears in time with his. “Ares, hear me. If you harm him, you will never have me again.” She rose with his deep breath.
“I know.”
She believed Ares when he promised, but when Adonis died, her first thought was that it had been Ares. At least until Apollo appeared and told her the truth. But ever after that day, she had stayed away from him as best she could, though competitions made it almost impossible. She always felt that something was off with the whole thing, but Apollo admitted to killing him, and Ares denied involvement, even after she used a token on him to force the truth. She had no real reason to doubt him, nothing tangible at least, but she couldn’t find a way to give herself fully to him again.
“You’ve got that look in your eye, Dita,” Eros said.
She blinked, realizing she was flushed. “What look?”
Eros rolled his eyes and laughed as he stood to go. “Right. Okay. Did you want me to go find
Dad
for you?”
“Gods, you are such a shit. Go put some pants on.” She flung her book at him, and it flew across the room, the air whistling through the pages. Bisoux jumped and trotted away as it thumped to the ground at Eros’ feet.
He twiddled his fingers at her, and she rolled her eyes as his perfect, naked ass trotted out the door.
Apollo walked into his office and up to a window, one of the many floor-to-ceiling fixtures in the room. He leaned against the frame and looked down on Central Park.
He was optimistic about his chances, having a plan in place. He wasn’t sure when to invoke the prophecy, but he knew for certain that it wasn’t time. Dita had set the stage, but his play would be a big one. Of that, he was sure.
He pushed off the wall and made his way across the black wood floors to pick up his mandolin. He sat and strummed, staring at one of his favorite Warhols that hung on the wall across the room. He scanned the shelves of books and plays, including original playbills from Shakespeare plays, books of sonnets, first editions of all of the classics, original, handwritten Poe poems, and ancient scrolls from Plato and Homer. The room was sectioned off by music, art, and literature, and the portion where he sat housed instruments from ancient lyres and zithers to electric guitars and a grand piano. Tall, white bookshelves lined the walls, holding records and boxes of sheet music, and a phonograph stood in the corner. His gallery sat in a room off the office, a huge space filled with statues and sketches from Michelangelo, paintings from Rembrandt to Picasso, photography from Adams to Uelsmann, just a small selection of works from his favorite humans.
On one open shelf was his laurel crown, the very same that he’d made from Daphne’s branches, the one he’d worn for eons as a symbol of his loss, his grief, as a way to carry her with him wherever he went, though she was always in his heart. He could not escape her, and didn’t want to.
The situation was an impossible one. He couldn’t blame Dita for never giving in, not with her believing he killed Adonis. He wished again that he could tell her the truth, and cursed Ares as he remembered back to that day, the day that everything fell apart.
Erymanthus bolted into Apollo’s chambers screaming, scratching at his eyes as blood rolled down his cheeks. Apollo rushed to his son, and the young man fell into his arms.
“What has happened?” Apollo tried to pull the boy’s hands away, but he fought every attempt. “Who has done this to you?”
“Aphrodite,” he wailed.
“Why? Why would she do such a thing to you?”
“I don’t know. I did nothing wrong. You must believe me. I … I was walking alone and happened upon her and Adonis coupling.”
Apollo took a breath, unsure if he should believe his son. The boy was known to be immodest and was nothing like Apollo, though much like his shrewd mother, who died giving birth to him. Apollo vowed to take care of the child, but he had grown into a deviant, and Apollo was at a loss with him.
But still, as he looked upon his son, blinded and screeching, rage filled his heart. He laid his hand over the boy’s eyes, his palm glowing white, but when he removed it, the boy had not healed. Such was the work of gods, especially one as powerful as Aphrodite.
“She will pay for this. Of that, I promise you.”
He dressed the boy’s wounds, lay him in bed, and left his chambers, rushing to Ares with shaking hands.
Apollo found Ares on a stool in his room, holding the hilt of his sword as he ran a sharpening stone down its length in long, smooth strokes. He glanced up at Apollo. “Hello, Apollo. Are you all right? You look … murderous.” He grinned evilly, then turned back to his blade and resumed his task. The metallic scrape rang in Apollo’s ears.
“Aphrodite has blinded my son.”
“I would argue that the peculiar boy might have earned such a punishment. What did he do to her?”
“He witnessed her in the throes of passion with Adonis.”
Ares hand froze, the rhythm broken for a long moment before he began the long strokes again. “And you tell me this because … ”
“She must pay, and I believe there is a way to deal equal damage.”
“What do you propose?”
Apollo paced, unable to keep still any longer. “I believe we have a common cause. You have a grievance with Adonis, and I with Aphrodite. He is her treasure, and to harm him harms her.”
“Ah, Apollo. You never did care to dirty your hands. But, alas, I cannot assist. I have sworn to her that I would do Adonis no harm.” He laid his sword down and turned to Apollo, leaning his muscular forearm on his knee. “If I am to help you, she can never know.”
Apollo nodded. “So, an oath?” It was the highest power that could bind them, higher than even Zeus had the authority to break.
“I believe that would be the most effective way to approach the matter.”
Apollo took a breath, his mind reeling, too angry to think clearly, though he tried to reason through it as strategically as he was capable of. “He is not to be killed. Only hurt. Can you agree to that?”
“Oh, I believe I can.” He smiled savagely.
Ares rose and held out his hand. Apollo looked at it a moment, hesitating before he found resolve in his outrage, then clasped forearms with Ares. A beam of white light ran down Apollo’s arm, winding around his bicep, around his forearm, then entwined the hands of the gods. A stream of blood ran down Ares’, and the threads twisted around each other, binding them together.
Apollo spoke. “I do swear that I shall never speak of the arrangement between Ares and I in the harming of Adonis, that I shall never speak of his connection to the acts that will be committed against the mortal.”
Ares spoke. “I do swear that I shall punish Adonis on Apollo’s behalf and should any inquire, that I shall never speak of my part of the responsibility.”
The bond threads grew brighter, flashing before they languished, forging their oath.
“Now,” Ares said, “it is time to begin.”
Apollo always had been a fool.
Ares ran through the thick woods, the trees whipping by in a blur as adrenaline coursed through him. He was in his favorite animal form, that of an enormous, feral boar. His heart thumped in his barrel chest as he realized that the chance was upon him to rid himself of the nuisance that was Adonis with no fear of retribution.
He skidded to a halt and lifted his snout, searching for Adonis, but found nothing. His nose hit the ground as he stomped about, running his snout through the tall, cool grass until …
Ah, there you are.
He shot into the forest, overwhelmed by his rage and the thrill of the hunt. Ares broke through the underbrush and slammed to a stop in a clearing, dark even in mid-day under the thick canopy of the trees. Fog floated up in curls and tendrils, licking at Ares’ belly as his eyes locked on Adonis before him, crouched in anticipation. Ares dropped his head, swinging it side to side, slashing his tusks through the air like blades.