The Heart of War
Inside the Heart of every Warrior breathes the Soul of a Hero. Even within The Heart of War.
Ares God of War, is the greatest Warrior the world has ever known. He’s moody, grumpy, dominant, ravenously sexual, and above all, built like a Greek God.
Suspected of killing his Daughter in-Law, Psyche, and long in exile from Olympus, the solitude of Ares’ island is interrupted when Magdalena MacLeod a brash and sometimes manipulative Fey washes up on Ares’ island after believing she’s been shipwrecked.
It’s not mere fate that has brought the unlikely couple together yet it may be what tears them apart.
Get lost in this sweeping dark saga of betrayal, secrets, love, lust, rage, and redemption. Ares God of War and Alena MacLeod share a love that will rock the world from the heights of Olympus to the Celtic moors.
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It was so hard not to touch him when everything in her cried out for the feel of his flesh, those wonderful mounds and ripples of skin and muscle gliding by under her greedy palms. Try as she did she just couldn’t make her fingers stop reaching for him, when they’d stretched as far as they could and still did not reach their goal, her hand joined in the quest and it reached out for him as well.
“Something I can do for you, Alena?” Ares asked softly as he leaned in toward her just a small way. The chest that had captivated her stare pressed against her shin. Ares did his best to hold back the smirk when she held her breath and let it out in hot little gasps. “Do you want to touch me?” His eyes dropped from hers back to those ever stretching fingers, the nails of which were just starting to play with the hair on his chest.
Oh yes, yes, that would be most wonderful. Just as wonderful as it was the other day when they were alone on their hunting trip. It took every ounce of reserve that she had to keep a lid on those thoughts and desires. Unfortunately for Alena, what she couldn’t keep a lid on was the wide grin that broke out on her face or the rush of heat that took over her body.
With her foot in one hand, he grabbed her wrists with the other and thrust those wanting hands onto his chest. She held her breath again but this time he thought she’d hold it so long she’d pass out. Her fingers didn’t hesitate to begin grabbing at him, kneading his skin and looking for more. Leaning in so that his forehead gently rested upon hers, he let go of her hands and was very pleased when they not only stayed on him but also began to roam, he whispered, “You’re drooling.” Before she could respond, he swiped his thumb across her wet bottom lip to catch it and then sucked upon it, those full lips wrapped around his own digit before parting and then he smiled. “Women.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer; he just picked her up and carried her back to the bedroom where he sat her down on his bed. He walked into the closet and when he came out, he was wearing a pair of linen pajama bottoms as he carried a small suture kit and another article of clothing, which he tossed at her. “Cover yourself, woman,” he said abruptly and tossed a bit of black cloth at her.
“What’s wrong? I don’t please you after all?” Alena took the cloth, which turned out to be the matching top to his bottoms. “I didn’t know you were fond of pajamas.”
“I’m not,” Ares huffed. “These are for your benefit, not mine.”
“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“Cute?” Ares mused and stroked the beard on his chin. “Cute? No. Cute is for puppies and teenage boys. I am devilishly handsome.”
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