The Warrior God (The Ares Trials #1) - Eliza Raine Page 0,62

stupid as to kiss him? More worryingly, how the fuck had it been so unbelievably good? If just a kiss was that sensational then what the hell would my body do if he got my clothes off?

He doesn’t want to take my clothes off, I remembered, the thought like a bucket of ice-cold water on my arousal. He just got carried away, again.

The man had no self-control at all. First he drained my power because it felt so good to have it again. Then he let the thrill of winning a fight he might actually have lost get the better of him. And me.

I kicked angrily at the water in the fast-filling pool, and snarled as my jeans got splashed. Tugging the tight denim off with one hand was hard enough, but getting the corset off was a freaking nightmare. By the time I was naked, I was ten times angrier than I had been before I started.

I sank into the pool, and my frustrations were momentarily halted when my arm met the water. The solid paste fizzed on my skin, and I flinched, expecting pain. But none came, and slowly the cast melted away. I gazed in wonder at my forearm, wiggling my fingers and lifting it from the bath.

It was perfect. As though I’d never hurt myself. An unstoppable excitement surged through me as I considered what being able to heal wounds like that would mean. Desire to get to my power swelled inside me, fighting for room with my anger.

In an effort to calm down, I tried to work out how I would feel if every fight I fought carried no risk at all. There was an array of powder blue and pink soaps on the side of the bath, and as I used them to wash the rest of the paste off my arm and then the sand and sweat from my body and my short blonde hair, I concentrated on what it would be like to be a goddess. Like really, properly thought about it, for the first time since this rollercoaster of chaos started.

Sure, being immortal would have its benefits. And being able to flash myself anywhere in the world would be cool as hell. So would the wealth and power that came with the position. Who didn’t want to live in luxury?

But Ares had all of those things, and he was miserable. I didn’t know exactly what it was that made him so humorless, but I knew it ran deeper than the loss of his power. His demeanor wasn’t new, it was clearly deep set. He had no empathy at all. When we’d talked about the slaves earlier, he had obviously never even considered a life different than his own. Was that what power that mighty did to a person? Were all of the gods so deluded and out of touch?

And the kick he got from fighting the Hydra... He said he had not felt that feeling for millennia. Did I really want to give that up?

I let out a long sigh as I rinsed the suds from my hair. Ares was an ass. He had the body of a man, and the temperament of a teenager. Before I could think too long on just how manly his body was, I dragged my resolve firmly into place. If he thought us hooking up was a mistake, then so did I. Even if it was the hottest kiss known to man.

I was not interested in a guy who told a woman who was literally panting for him that he regretted kissing her.

No. Ares was a douche-bag. I would work with him to finish the Trials and save Joshua, but no more ogling, drooling or fantasizing over him.

As far as my magic went... If I needed it to stay in Olympus, then so be it. But I was sure as hell not going to let it turn me into someone as messed up as him.

I pushed the washroom door open firmly, wearing my best ‘fuck-off-I-don’t-care-what-you-think’ face. To my surprise, Ares was nowhere to be seen, but Eris was sitting on his bed instead.

“Thank the gods, I thought you were never going to leave that room,” she drawled, standing up.

“Erm, why are you here?”

“Your hoity-toity cat asked me to help you get ready,” she beamed. “I’m not usually up for helping people, but you fascinate me.”

“Zeeva? Where is she?”

“Busy, apparently. Probably talking to someone else like they’re complete shit, I suspect. Now, I’ve moved the clothes