The Warrior God (The Ares Trials #1) - Eliza Raine Page 0,14

my head. There was no point getting myself worked up about Joshua until I had at least saved his life. I could yell at him for lying to me after that.

When Ares finally stomped back to me, his shoulders were heaving and his sword hung limply from his right arm.

“Better?” I asked him.

“No. Let’s go.”

“Woahhhh there,” I said, springing to my feet. “You got to take care of some business, so I think it’s only fair that I do too.”

“Your business is inconsequential,” he said. I bit down on my tongue, hard. I would not swear at him. I needed his co-operation.

“It would make life a lot easier for both of us if I had a change of clothes and some of my stuff,” I said calmly.

“Why do you need more clothes?” he scowled.

“Because I like to change my fucking underwear every now and then!” So much for not swearing.

“Use magic,” he shrugged.

“I don’t know how to.”

“Then I shall do it.”

“Not a chance in sweet freaking hell are you going anywhere near my underwear!”

“As if I-” he started angrily, but I held up my hands and spoke over him as loudly as I could.

“Just take me to my apartment so I can throw some stuff in a backpack, or I’ll give you endless shit until you do. It’s that simple, armor-boy.”

I knew I would win eventually, and I was right. But I wasn’t prepared for the feeling I got when Ares finally flashed us back to my apartment and I stared around at the dimly-lit space. A pang of something strong gripped me, and it wasn’t sadness or fondness for my home. It was a gut-wrenching delight at the thought that I might never have to see the place again.

It may have been a little premature, but I was quite sure that whatever the hell was happening to me was the start of something that did not end with me returning to this dump.

“You live here?” Ares’ tone held a note of disbelief, and something else I couldn’t identify. Probably general assholery, I decided as I made my way quickly through my tiny kitchen, into my tinier bedroom. I was lucky to have a separate bedroom at all, living this close to the city center, but that didn’t mean I liked the place. The neighbors were awful, always yelling at each other, fighting and throwing stuff that banged off the walls and set my temper humming. And everything was damp. The shitty landlord never fixed anything he was asked to, and no matter how much mold-removing product I covered the minuscule shower-room in, dark slimy mildew always crept back over the walls and ceiling in a matter of hours.

“Where do you sit, or eat?” Ares called as I pulled up the thin single mattress on my bed to get to the storage space beneath it.

I ignored him, finding an old khaki-colored backpack and yanking it out. The answer was that I ate sitting on the bed, the bare walls closing in around me as I tried to watch Netflix or read on my phone. I was an outdoors kind of girl, and ADHD levels of hyperactivity meant I was ill-suited to a space this cramped. But I couldn’t afford more. Hell, right now I couldn’t even afford this. The only saving grace of the entire building was the basement. It had been slowly filled over the years with tired but functional second-hand gym gear, including a punch-bag. I couldn’t pay for real gym membership, so even though it had no ventilation and got hotter than the freaking sun down there under the four-story concrete building, I never uttered a bad word about it. I needed it.

I started to throw t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a whole pile of socks and underwear into the bag, barely paying attention to what I was selecting. Other than my Guns N’ Roses t-shirt. I made sure I had that. I slipped off my sneakers and shoved them into the bag, pulling my only decent-quality shoes on in their place. They were whacking great big walking boots, with hidden steel-caps, that did some serious damage to whatever they connected with.

Then I pulled open the drawer in the little unit by my bed and wrapped my hand around the thing I had really come for. My flick-blade. It may not be as big as Ares’ sword, but the little knife and I had history, and it had never let me down. No way was I