Kyra

Chapter Thirty-Two

Their feet met the ground. Snow covered ground. The sight of snowflakes caressing Kyra's fiery hair was an image he wanted tattooed into his mind. She hadn't had time to fix her braids or do her makeup. Fuck all of that, this woman was a natural killer beauty.

The moon gleamed over her skin. She looked ethereal. Downright otherworldly. Ares was the only bastard out here graced with the sight. This vision was his and his alone. No one, not even Kyra herself, could ever take that away from him.

He breathed in. The air tasted of pine. Of pollution, just a little. They were somewhere out the way of the fumes. Off the beaten track.

Definitely the mortal realm.

Oh the irony. Eros, infamous mortal hater, was shacking up in the mortal realm.

Understandable when he was staying in a place like this.

Going out on a whim, Ares would say this was Scotland. An old, renovated farmhouse sat in the field in front of them. The windows were lit up with warmth—no doubt a log burner fire going on inside. A stream ran through what was seemingly the garden, racing across a rural road and down to the sea.

Six hundred years in the grave and he's still got taste.

Maybe Kyra wouldn't be opposed to something like this someday. Assuming she got over the whole hating him thing, of course.

"It's beautiful."

He reached for her hand, only to be swatted away. "Kindly keep your hand to yourself."

He made a dramatic point of burying it in his pocket. "I thought you might've been cold. I was only trying to warm you up."

"No you weren't. You were doing the whole smooth man thing. This isn't a trip. We're not bonding over this. I'm here because I was roped into a deal I have no way out of. This isn't a date."

"The lady doth compl—"

She threw her hand over his mouth, pinching his lips together with force. "Sorry, did you say you want me to break your nose again?"

He tugged her hand down, clasping their fingers together before she could stop him. Knowing he swam in dangerous waters, he lowered their hands to his crotch and gave it a squeeze.

"You're out of luck, my darling. My dick finds your violent tendencies to be quite fucking erotic."

Of course, Kyra took it upon herself to squeeze tighter. And tighter. And tighter.

He bit back a pained groan. Then, with an overly satisfied smirk, she let him go.

"Give up whilst you're still ahead. We're not rekindling shit. Quit holding onto hope."

Ending on that note, Kyra started on her walk through the snow over to the farmhouse. Ares hung back a bit to watch the footprints her sandals left in the snow.

At the door, Kyra didn't bother knocking. She ducked down in front of it, tugging something off her breastplate, and got to work messing with the lock. When the door swung open, she rose back to her full height as if the whole breaking and entering thing was nothing.

"Are you going to stand outside all day or will you be joining me?"

Biting back a myriad of witty remarks, Ares followed her inside. They followed the sound of voices to where the log fire burnt in front of a honeymooning, giggling and whispering couple.

Kyra didn't care for that one bit. Oh no. His brutal angel marched directly over to the couple and dragged the winged God up from the ground by his hair. Before Eros had time to grasp what was happening, her fist was already swinging into his face.