Cruel War (The Gilded Sovereign 1)

The moment I tug the tape holding the plastic wrap, a hiss escapes my clenched teeth. “Fucker,” I growl to myself. Opening the cabinet, I find a fresh roll of medical tape and tear off a few pieces. Gently, I work to recover it, making sure it’s airtight, so it doesn’t get wet.

I step under the spray and let the water massage my tense shoulders before I lather up the rest of my body. My mind is still on a loop, replaying how Dahlia’s body trembled beneath mine.

Her soft curves, her sweet perfume, and the way her pupils dilated were evidence enough that she wants me.

How can I crave a woman whose father has done such bad shit to mine?

My eyes close, and I can’t stop my hand from dropping to my shaft. Fisting myself, I stroke slowly, edging myself as I picture her delicate hand wrapped around me.

Thinking about her sweetness, her fire, and her curves, I groan as pleasure zips through me like a lightning strike. My nerves are frayed, my need for her is unacceptable, but I can’t stop my hand jerking harder, faster, picturing her plump lips parting for me, and another low growl escapes me when I imagine painting her pretty face with my release.

My body tenses and I call her name as I empty myself down the drain. “This is fucking ridiculous,” I murmur at the walls that surround me.

Once I’ve rinsed off the soap, I shut off the taps and step out onto the soft mat and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist. Back in the bedroom, I pick up my cell and find a response from Dahlia.

With a grin, I hit dial on her number. Two rings and she answers with a hushed, yet frustrated whisper, “What do you want?”

The screen shows her pretty face, and I can’t deny, she’s hot; I’d fuck her right now. Shaking my head of the errand thought, I focus on those wide eyes that take me in, realizing I’m half-naked.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” she bites out, louder than her earlier question, which makes me chuckle.

“A towel, you’ve heard of those where you’re from, I assume?” I move across my bedroom, and I know she can see the furnishings—dark and luxurious—behind me.

“What do you want, Ares? I don’t have time for games.”

“But you play them so well.” This makes her still, her face turning angry before my eyes. Her fire does things to me. It makes my towel tent for one thing. “I want you at the bonfire,” I tell her. “Let’s see who’ll play this game and win.”

“What do I get if I win?” She succumbs to my command.

“Me.”

“What?” Her shock matches my own. What the fuck am I saying?

Settling on the soft cushion of the armchair in my room that overlooks the town, I cast my glance out the window before looking at her again. “You’ll get to know everything there is about me, my family, and how you tie into it.”

“What if I lose?” Her voice cracks on the words, and I want to go to her. Right now, I want to get in my car, drive over there, and skulk into her bedroom. I want to pin her to the bed and show her what she’ll get when she loses. My hands wrapped tightly around her neck.

“Are you planning on losing?”

“Just answer the fucking question,” she retorts, her mouth pursing in frustration and the shape of those lips makes my cock jolt with need.

“You don’t want to know what happens to losers in this town.”

“My father did something to you. Didn’t he?”

I want to answer her. To give her the truthful response, but I can’t. Not yet. There’s nothing I can say that will change her fate.

“Ares?”

“Your father isn’t the man you think he is.” My words are the only response I can offer her at this moment.

“He was a good man.”

“Was he?” I challenge her belief, hoping to make her question herself. She watches me over the small screen, and I wonder if she’ll ever believe her dear old daddy killed someone. An innocent.

“I-I… he was a cop, he put so many bad people in prison.”

“And before he was part of law enforcement? Did you know your dad as well as you think?” This time, she stares at me long and hard, assessing my reaction, my expression, everything about what she can see.

“What did he do?” Her voice is a whisper, husky and sweet, like a tempting treat. I want to swallow it up. I want to devour her inch by inch until there’s nothing left but a shell of the woman before me.

I want her to ache for me.

A thought steals my attention for a moment before I swipe it away. I could do something worse than killing her. I could punish her for far longer than a mere few moments of gurgled pleas of mercy.