Kyra

Chapter Thirty-Eight

To his greatest delight, Ares woke up before the Amazon. In other words, this blissful white flag would go on for a little while longer. Until she woke up, he could pretend he had her again. That she was still his. Still his little Amazon.

In nothing but her skirt, she slept soundlessly with her head on his chest, one arm thrown across his body. Exactly how she'd slept in the past. Her figure entwined with his. The God dropped a big, possessive hand on her back, covering most of her frame. She mumbled, still asleep, and shuffled even closer to him.

Trusting. In her sleep, she trusted him.

He gathered her hair, lifting it from her scar.

She was different to how she'd been in the past. She had more backbone, more strength, even more attitude. But she hadn't changed as much as she wanted him to believe. She was still his Kyra. Ever the woman he'd fallen in love with.

When both of his arms wound around her, Kyra slowly came to.

With her awakening, their bubble of peacefulness was popped.

"Good morning my love."

"Let—go."

She pried at his arm, pushing it away from her body. Like that made any difference. He still had the best view in all of Romania when she sat up, flashing him a look at the Other World's finest racks.

He propped an arm beneath his head, hoisting himself up just enough to watch her.

"Don't want to snuggle?"

"No. I don't. I've got—oh fuck." She threw a half-hearted arm over her chest, stealing his look at heaven. "I've got to find my breastplate and—" She grabbed a pile of black lace from the tent's floor. "Looks like my thong is out of action."

That's my day made. He grinned from ear to ear, enjoying himself in spite of her displeasure.

"Going commando?"

She rocked up onto her knees further away from him.

"Shut up."

"You can wear mine." At that, she glanced towards his abandoned boxers then him, sceptical. "What? Let's say we encounter someone else out here, I don't want them getting a look at what's mine with the wrong wind."

"How considerate of you."

She didn't reject the offer.

"You've woken up grouchy," He noted, having known the night before that she'd be this way. "Does sex make you bitter?"

"I don't have time for this."

"No morning kiss."

"We've got shit to do."

With his boxers in hand, she scrambled out of the tent, flashing him a view of her perfect round arse. Groaning, he followed her out. The morning air was cold on his naked skin but not cold enough to bother him. Kyra was rifling around, searching for her breastplate. Her tongue clacked when she found it— though she made no effort to put it on.

"Where are you going?"

"To bathe," She answered, reminding him of the lake nearby. "Run a hand through your hair. It looks like you've got—"

"Sex hair?" His day was getting better and better. "I'll leave it. Let it remind you of—"

"Not happening."

She darted over, reaching her hands up to sort it herself. Their height differences had her on her tip toes, chest to chest once more.

He ducked his head under the illusion of helping her, only to suck her rounded nipple into his mouth. She moaned against her better judgement, back arching into his grip. "Fucking love these perky nipples."