Ares' Love and War

Wounds and looks

Alex pov

I slam my door shut and kick my boots off while hanging my coat up. Exhausted. Traumatized. But mostly exhausted. I speed walk into my room, tying my curls up as I stride to my bookshelf, rummaging through documents from my dad and my own. Books, novels to be exact, falling to the floor but the sound fades as my heart drums.

Gold eyes. Fire. Glowing sword.

Where have I read that before? And why is he so familiar? So personally familiar?

My hand bumps into something hard and files scatter across my floor. I jump back. Jesus, I've been jumpy since last night. I drop to my knees, looking at each file and the name I want to see makes me pause.

Diana Forbes. Written in the best cursive you've ever seen in your life on a brown file filled to the brim with notes and ancient documents about Greek mythology. The first file has Zeus' name all the way down to his last kin, the tremor in my hands aches. My breath hitches when Ares' appears in bright red and raggedy scribbles.

I pull the file and head to my own office. I draw another file, a file that dad took from my old therapist when I was little. Everything about me is in this , it feels weird somehow. I don't remember any of it. I slam both on my desk and flick the lamp on. I put my reading glasses on as I open Ares' file.

Everything about him, from his birth, his family life and his anger and wars to the very detail about his tattoos and...golden chain. My brows furrow as it mentions how violent he was and the sword he carries around. I gulp remembering his eyes, how violent and inhumane they seemed. So deep, dark and hateful when he saw me. Barely even acknowledging my father last night.

But why?

I skim through my file, hands shaking as I come to the chapter about my dreams, something tells me I'll definitely find something here. The entire fiasco last night sent a wave of de ja vu down my spine and the familiarity is scratching at my skull. I skim lines, flip pages but my head still spins.

Ares. I halt. The word makes me dizzy as it stares back at me from the old white sheet. I pick up the book. Ms. Launter wrote down everything I said but the only thing that caught my attention was the detail about seeing a little boy in my dreams. Knife in his hand, blonde hair, lines along his skin. Tattoos. And blood golden eyes, it said that that was what scared me the most, fire like eyes as he screamed out in pain behind bars. The hairs on my neck stand up and goosebumps rise on my skin.

I dreamt of the God of War.

Mom and dad never told me anything about their studies, they said it was dangerous and to go play with my toys instead of meddling in their business. So I did, I stayed out, never questioned it until I was 16, but, this file was documented when I was 7. I didn't know anything about the Greek Gods then.

So why was I seeing the God of War in my dreams?

I take my glasses off but wince at the irritation of the small wounds on my arm. Dried blood and red skin crowd the little cuts. My body aches after driving for so long to get dad to his sister's in Georgia and my throat from all the screaming and arguing with him.

I head to my bathroom where I pick up the broom behind the door, I move a ceiling tile and my gun falls down. I sigh checking the bullets before placing it down on the counter. I lean over the sink, staring at my reflection.

Brown skin glistening with sweat and rain outside, brown eyes tired and dull, pink lips in a slight frown as my arm throbs. I peel my tight shirt off and turn my arm to the mirror. All the glass had been pulled out but the cuts hurt like hell. I groan as pain shoots through my arm.