Kyra

Chapter Twenty

Ares woke up with his little Amazon bundled up against his chest. Exactly where she belonged. Her curls had dried through the night, red once again, void of the dirt and blood that'd stained them the day before.

He'd never been gladder to see a person. His person. His woman.

Kyra drove him mad. He'd never stop looking for ways to save her.

He needed this moment to last forever.

He'd startled awake twice through the night, forced from his dreams by the fear of losing her. His mind had been haunted with possibilities.

What if I hadn't gotten there in time? What if the job was already done? What if I lost her?

He kissed her forehead, squeezing his eyes closed, relishing in the fact that she was still here. Still his.

His hands were wrapped around her body. He drew a finger across her newly formed scar, hating it already.

Ares didn't care how marred her skin was—but he cared an awful lot about how it happened.

One day, he'd kill that bitch. He longed to end her himself.

When Kyra's eyelids fluttered open, revealing the amber shade he'd come to adore, he pushed the dark thoughts to the back of his mind.

Their eyes met.

Ares didn't know where they'd stand today.

Does she hate me?

She'd been screaming and thrashing for the vast majority of the night before. Before that, she was out getting herself killed.

She sighed, readjusting herself. As Ares laid on his back beside her, she propped her face up with his chest, half her body strewn over his.

So far so good.

She'd have shot up off the bed if she hated him. Naked beneath her blankets, she seemed perfectly content right here.

He waited as she rubbed her lips together, wetting them, before speaking. "I suppose you'll have to punish me today."

He groaned, head dipping further into his pillow. "You and punishments."

"But you're going to," She pressed. "After yesterday, how could you not?"

She had a point. Everyone had seen her break every rule in the book. If he didn't punish her now, then everyone would know she was receiving special treatment. Let them think whatever they want.

"This is the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning?"

"It's been on my mind all night."

"Not your close brush with death."

"I don't care about that."

No, of course not. Nearly dying hadn't fazed her. But the thought of him punishing her did.

"Damn it Kyra. You're killing me here."

"I don't have to worry because I know I'll make it to immortality," She explained. "I know I'll live for another thousand years yet. That painting of yours is proof."

"I hate that fucking painting."

It didn't comfort him the way it did for Kyra. For him, it was something to stress about and dread. He'd lost a great many nights of sleep tossing and turning over that painting.

"But I'm right," Kyra teased. "Admit it." She drew her finger over his happy trail, circling it idly. "So you worry over nothing."

"Not at all. You live for so long because I'll spend a thousand years making sure of it. You'd be dead if I hadn't shown up yesterday."