webnovel

The War God's Woman

Ares, the God of War, is exiled from Olympus. In the modern world, he encounters Sage - a young woman being stalked by a dangerous gangster. They should have parted ways. But a love arrow, shot by Eros, changes everything...

moonkeeper_ · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
12 Chs

S-stalker!

Sage's alarm beeped noisily. She rolled over – unimpressed as she attempted to snooze it. This finally achieved, she lay for a while – eyes closed – nestled in the comfortable warmth of her bed. The sound of a glass being set down on her bedside table made her eyes snap open.

"You!" She exclaimed, scrambling out of bed.

Ares looked poised, calm and effortlessly handsome – sat on her wicker chair with her old teddy on his lap.

"What are you doing in my room?!"

"Protecting you."

"And you have to do that from inside my bedroom!?"

Ares' hair was styled up in a fashionable quiff and he was wearing a fitted crimson suit – making him look like a young CEO. He shifted his long legs and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed.

"You should feel honoured."

"Honoured?"

"To have me protecting you." He stood up and Sage was, once again, thrown by how tall and broad he was. He seemed to take up all the space in her tiny room.

"I'm the god of war, the son of Zeus, the crown prince –" He stopped abruptly. He was no longer the crown prince of Olympus. Ares' jaw ticked in frustration. Summoning his power, he made his great sword appear in his grasp. Sage backed away from the sharp blade. With fluid grace, Ares dropped down to one knee and offered her the sword. "You have my protection, always and forever. I swear to you my loyalty."

Sage stared at the sword. It was etched with strange markings that glowed on the blade. She put a hand over her mouth.

"You're for real." She gawped at him. "You're really a god..."

"Sage?" He looked at her with concern, seeing the blood drain from her face.

"Ergh...I think I'm losing my mind."

Ares sat on Sage's sofa, brooding. A relationship between a god and a mortal always posed difficulties. The mortal would age and die – that was an obvious problem. But there were other obstacles to overcome also. Sage was essentially different to him – she wasn't always going to be able to understand him, or him her. But now – in this modern world – they had an obstacle that hadn't even occurred to him. Sage didn't believe in the gods.

Lacking belief, she didn't harbour the respect and devotion she ought to. She didn't submit. Ares sighed heavily, he needed to be understanding – for a little while at least.

Ares heard the sound of Sage approaching and he looked up quickly. His heart skipped a beat. Sage's hair was still damp from the shower she'd taken and the dark ringlets were loose – cascading over one shoulder and leaving exposed the slope of her neck. His gaze lingered on her smooth skin.

"This is unbearable," he muttered.

"Why are you staring?"

"Because I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Sage stared at him - unnerved.

"Are you mentally sound?"

"I must be mentally unsound."

Muddling this over, Sage headed for the kitchen to make tea. Only when she had a steaming mug in her grip did she return to the living room and settle down on the bean bag opposite Ares. She briefly compared Ares with Ezekiel, feeling a sense of déjà vu about their positions. Ares sat tall, his back proudly erect. He seemed to naturally treat every chair as if it was his personal throne. Ezekiel had seemed out of place in her apartment whilst Ares looked like he owned the place.

"So," Sage began – her tone business-like. She was glad that she'd had time to gather her thoughts. "You're a god and you're trapped here on Earth." She surmised – her voice still tinged with scepticism. Ares nodded. "And you think that I can help you get back to Olympus?"

"The fates said so – but that's irrelevant now. Everything's changed."

"Changed?"

"I've been shot by one of Eros' arrows."

Sage blinked.

"So now?"

"I'm in love with you." Ares' eyes blazed with sincerity.

Sage sipped her tea, wishing her hormones would calm down. A guy as attractive as Ares shouldn't be allowed to look at a woman like that – it was unfair. Ares frowned, watching Sage drink her tea. Didn't she understand what he was telling her? He was in love with her – completely. Utterly. In Love. "I'm in love with you," he repeated. "I'm in love with you until the day you die."

Ares cried out suddenly, clutching his chest.

"What's wrong?" Sage questioned, alarmed.

"It hurts to think about you dying." He clenched his teeth and stifled a groan – not wanting to seem weak in front of his woman.

Sage set down her tea and rose to her feet.

"Should I get you some water?" She offered. Ares shook his head.

"Just sit beside me." His voice was gruff. Sage sat down on the sofa – watching him uncertainly.

Sighing, Ares rested his head against her shoulder. The pain eased the moment he felt her warmth against his cheek.

"I have to go to work soon," Sage murmured – aware of time ticking by. Ares reluctantly raised his head.

"Change your clothes first. You're showing too much skin."

Sage cocked an eyebrow.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"You'll drive me crazy," Ares replied flatly. "I'll end up blinding all mortal men."

Sage rose to her feet, ignoring his request. She found her bag on the floor and hunted around the living room for her keys. Ares watched her bend over, checking beneath the table, and he chuckled darkly. Stretching his leg, he nudged her lightly with his foot. "You have to take responsibility for me." He pouted.

"I – what – why?"

"I took the love arrow to protect you."

"Me?"

Ares nodded unhappily.

"Eros was going to make you fall in love with another mortal."

"Who?"

"The man you left with, with the tattooed face." He waved his hand impatiently. The 'who' wasn't important. "Since I saved you and I've ended up like this because of that – you owe me."

Sage crossed her arms under her chest. She didn't like the feeling of owing somebody. Even if money wasn't involved - the idea still left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Fine, what do you want?"

"Let me take you on the bed in there." He gestured his head to the bedroom.

"Huh?"

"Or here would be fine," he added – eyeing the sofa. Sage blinked.

"You want me to sleep with you?!"

"Yes. Many, many times."

**

"What happened to your hand?" Jaz questioned – seeing the bandages around Sage's knuckles.

"I punched Ares in the face." Attempting to punch a god hadn't been a good idea. He'd barely noticed and her hand was in agony. Jaz chuckled.

He continued to cheerfully arrange the sugar sachets – so that they were all un-creased and in a perfectly symmetrical pattern. Jaz hummed as he worked, apparently content as a kitten. Sage crouched down so that she could wipe the drawer handles.

"What tune is that?" She asked – not recognising it.

"It's old."

The bell above the café door tinkled and Sophia ducked inside, pushing her sunglasses up over her silky hair.

"Good morning," Sage greeted, straightening. Her smiled faltered slightly. She was sure she'd seen this woman before but couldn't quite place her...

"I'll take this one," Jaz interceded. "Can you help Cesar in the kitchen for me?"

"Ok." Sage left, still puzzling.

She found Cesar flapping about in the kitchen. "Want help?" She offered, picking up the bottle of washing up liquid.

"You're an angel," Cesar infused – blowing a kiss at her. Sage suddenly remembered when she'd seen that customer before.

'I want you to pick for me.'

The first time Ares had entered the cake shop, he'd been with that woman. Sage remembered how they'd acted together – all cosy – like a couple on a date. Sage washed the plates with vigour – steaming rising from the suds. Mr-love-arrow had some explaining to do.

"What's this?" Sophia asked, staring at the cup Jaz had set down in front of her.

"My own special blend."

Sunlight streamed in from the windows. Sophia blew over the liquid to cool it before taking a sip. It tasted sharp and bitter. "How do you feel?" Jaz asked, his expression serious. Sophia took another sip. She looked at him over the cup's brim.

"As if a fog's being lifted."