Cruel War (The Gilded Sovereign 1)
I recognize Ares, Tarian, and Etienne—their clothes, their swagger, and those mischievous smirks. Only Tarian offers a smile. The silver glint of his lip piercing shines in the glow as he sucks in the corner of his mouth. The ring sits in the center of his lip.
He’s dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt, which has a band name on it. Also, his feet are incased in a pair of black and white Chucks, and between his full lips is a lit cigarette.
“It’s them,” Rukaiya hisses in my ear as she leans in closer as if he’ll hear her from this distance. The three of them stalk toward us, their focus zeroed in on me, and I wonder why I’m in their sights.
Perhaps it has something to do with Dad. Surely, if gran knows them, they should know the Miltons. Maybe now is my chance to speak to Ares. I’ll have to get him alone, though I don’t want this to go any further than it needs to.
They reach us, causing all eyes to fall on us. The whole student body is alert as if they’re gods, and we’re mere mortals. Ares’ dark gaze locks on mine as his mouth kicks into a grin.
“The little flower,” he coos, his words practically drip with disdain and something else—lust? I don’t know, I can’t place it, but I step up to him, our bodies almost flush with each other, even though I’m nearly a head shorter than him.
“We need to talk,” I bite out, ignoring his glare.
“Ooh, Ares is in trouble.” This comes from Etienne; he seems to be the more playful one.
“Shut it, lover boy,” Ares growls, gripping my bicep with his large hand and dragging me away from the group. Once we’re alone, he shoves me against a tree, and I can feel everyone’s watchful eyes on what’s happening between us.
He leans in, his mouth inches from mine, and I wonder if he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. As if he changes his mind quickly, he allows his lips to trail over the shell of my ear.
“What is it that you’d like to say to me, flower?” he murmurs, causing goosebumps to dot my skin. Even though I’m fully clothed, his voice makes me feel as if I’m naked.
“My father,” I start, wondering if I’ll anger him, but also, not caring if I do because this needs to be sorted out.
Ares steps back, his hands fisting at his sides, but his darkened, angry stare pierces me as if he’s attempting to hurt me with the thoughts in his mind. There’s danger in his eyes, and if he could kill me with it, I’m sure I’d be lying at his feet. I watch his body shake for a moment before he breathes the tension away, and soon enough, he’s relaxed.
He tips his head to the side, regarding me through narrowed slits, with dark lashes fluttering over smooth, alabaster cheeks. “What about him?”
“You know him.” It’s not a question, but he nods anyway. “Look, he’s dead.”
“I know he is,” he tells me with a satisfied grin, which makes me shudder, “and he deserved what he got. So will you for coming here.”
“I have nowhere else to go.” My words are filled with disdain. “Why do you hate me? If you had beef with my dad, it’s over; he’s dead.”
“He may be dead,” Ares says, stepping up against me once more. The bark of the tree pressing into my back. “But his bloodline,”—he trails his knuckles over my cheek and down to my throat, and his gaze drops to where my pulse point is rioting— “lives on in you.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest, which causes his eyes to lower briefly to my breasts before snapping back to mine. At least it puts some distance between us because I can’t think straight with him so close.
“Whatever happened is in the past. I’ve said it’s done, so it’s done. I’m not running away from this town because some asshole with a god complex tells me to,” I bite out, shoving him backward, which earns me a gasp from our audience who I’d long ago forgotten about.
“You know, Dahlia,” Ares smirks. “If you weren’t my toy to play with, I’d probably fuck you. No girl has had the balls to fight back before, and I quite like it.”
“Fuck you, Ares Lancaster.” My words earn me silence this time. Nobody moves. It’s as if we’re the only animated people here because Ares and I are the only ones who seem to be breathing.
Even Etienne and Tarian are still as statues. The shrill ringing of a bell from somewhere on campus sounds and Ares’ head snaps in that direction, before offering me one final glare.
He moves beside me, stopping right at my shoulder before he tells me. “This isn’t over. I like it rough. I like it when you fight me. Perhaps I may even find out if the good cop’s daughter is still a sweet little virgin.” With that, he leaves me staring at nothing. I’m rigid with frustration. Every inch of me is filled with tension; yet, my hands are trembling.