Ares-
The moment my hands brushed against Kamaria's waist, pulling her closer to me, I could feel her body tense, the soft curve of her form against me sending a jolt of something through my chest. I didn't think. I didn't care to think. I simply wanted her attention, wanted her to look at me, to meet my gaze.
Without a word, I lifted her chin, forcing her to face me, and as her wide, soft black eyes locked with mine, I couldn't deny the spark that ignited between us. There was something about the way she looked at me, something innocent but full of defiance. It wasn't like the fear that the others wore—this was different. This was more. I could feel her heart racing against my chest, her breath shallow, yet she didn't pull away. Instead, she stood there, frozen, her eyes betraying her silent struggle to not look away from me.
For a fleeting moment, I forgot where we were, who I was, and the weight of my role as the god of war. There was something magnetic about her. A pull I couldn't explain. Something that made my pulse quicken and my grip tighten, just slightly, on her chin. I didn't know how long we stood there, just looking at each other, but I heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching.
Before I could react, the doors to my chamber swung open. My mother, Hera, entered first, her sharp gaze immediately flicking between us. Behind her stood a young woman, she had the aura of a goddess, I realized. She was striking—beautiful in a way that demanded attention,
Kamaria, still in my hold, tensed—every line of her body drawn tight. Then, with a sharp breath and a sudden twist, she tore herself free, stepping back just as Hera's presence flooded the room like a rising tide.
"Ares," Hera's voice sliced through the moment, her tone like a whip, sharp and unforgiving. "What is this? Is this what occupies your time now?" She sneered, her eyes flicking disdainfully over Kamaria's form, no doubt sizing up my slave, as if she were no more than dirt beneath her sandals. "This," she spat, turning to the girl beside her, "is no place for her." Her words struck like daggers. "You'd do well to remember your place, girl."
The tension in the room thickened, and Kamaria quickly lowered her gaze, her hands trembling as she bowed, her body nearly crumbling beneath mother's words. I could see her struggle to keep herself composed, her pride holding her back from reacting. But even through the storm of emotions I was feeling, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of something for her in that moment. She was so much more than the others thought her to be more than I thought her to be.
As Kamaria bowed and turned to leave, I couldn't help the pang of frustration that hit me, but I said nothing. She was still new to this place, still so vulnerable, still trying to find her way. I watched her retreat with her head held high, though I knew she wanted to break. I wanted to go after her. But then my mother's voice sliced through the air once again.
"Ares." mother's voice softened, but only slightly. "This is the woman I handpicked for you. She came to see me, and will be returning back today." She gestured to the girl beside her, and my gaze immediately snapped to her. "This is Philia, the Goddess of Desire and Devotion."
Philia stepped forward, her presence as graceful as it was commanding. Her skin was pale, almost unnaturally so, as if she were carved from marble. The delicate silks she wore fluttered around her, catching the light in all the right places, giving her an ethereal, otherworldly glow. I could see the way she moved, poised and careful, every step calculated, every motion graceful.
Her violet eyes held mine, cold but undeniably captivating. There was no warmth there, only the kind of allure that made one ache for something they could never quite have. Her beauty was inhuman, perfect—but there was something about it that felt... empty.
She was beautiful, yes. But Kamaria? She was different. Kamaria had something more.
"She's the woman we've arranged for you to marry her, Ares," Mother said, her voice laden with finality. "In five months, she will be yours. A match made by the gods themselves."
I felt the weight of my mother's words settle heavily in my chest. I didn't want this. I didn't want her. The desire to resist flooded me, but there was no escaping it. It was my duty, my obligation. My mother was not one to be defied.
Still, I couldn't push the thought of Kamaria away. The image of her dark, soulful eyes, her soft brown skin, and the way she looked at me haunted me. I couldn't deny the pull I felt toward her—no matter how much I wanted to.
Philia, standing before me, still held my gaze. But I felt nothing for her. Not like I felt for Kamaria. It was a dangerous thought. And it made my blood boil with frustration.
"Do not forget your duty, Ares," Hera warned, her voice colder than before. "Philia is the one you will have to marry. The gods have decreed it."
I nodded, though it was the last thing I wanted to do. I didn't look at Kamaria when she left. I couldn't. But the thought of her stayed with me—burning bright, like a flame that refused to be extinguished.
And I hated myself for it.