Ares (Olympia Alien Mail Order Brides Book 2) Read online

  “Um, hi,” I say breathlessly, and his fingers tighten around my hand as he treats me to a rare smile that hooks me on the inside.

  “Sei bello.” He shuts his eyes for a blink. “Beautiful.”

  My heart flips and I’m sure I’m grinning like a madwoman. “Thank you.”

  It’s going to be fine. So he didn’t want to hang out over the last week. Maybe he is old-fashioned, or Torvians have a different value system that I didn’t bother to learn. Maybe I was supposed to court him or something and he’s over there thinking I’m a dud as fiancées go. Or his distance over the last week had more to do with his inability to pick a language and he’s embarrassed by it.

  Whatever the case, it’s over now. He’s here and we’re getting married. If for some reason things don’t work out, I have a guaranteed exit clause. The Intergalactic Dating Agency rules favor the human women who agree to alien matches, so I can dump him the second I decide it’s not working out. I like exit clauses in the absence of guarantees. I’ve certainly needed my share when it comes to the human men I’ve dated.

  The ceremony is short and to the point and before I can fully process it, we’re husband and wife. When the justice of the peace throws out the kiss-the-bride line, Ares takes full advantage of it, turning me into his body like he did the other night, binding me tight with one arm as he tilts up my face.

  Oh, yeah, I could get used to being held like this, as if he couldn’t stand to let me go. He pauses right at the last minute, drawing out the anticipation masterfully and then claims my lips in a sizzling kiss. Oh, God, yes. My body remembers his mouth and lights up like a struck match. Everything heats instantly, craving his touch. I can only cling to his waist because that’s as high as I can reach when my bones have melted.

  Unfortunately, he keeps it mostly civil—no tongue action this time, which is a crying shame—and then he pulls away. My body weeps at the lack of fulfillment. Next time. Tonight. Honeymoon. I can scarcely breathe through the sudden anticipation that squeezes my lungs.

  We wrap up the ceremony and Charmaine transfers what few belongings Ares brought with him to Penelope’s car. Ares rides with me back to my apartment, where he’s going to be living from now on, taking it all in with interested silence as we roll through downtown Olympia. If nothing else, you’d think he’d chatter with Eros, but the other Torvian is in the front seat, his broad palm on Penelope’s thigh, stroking it as she drives. They’re always touching each other like that and frankly, I would not complain if Ares followed suit.

  Instead, Ares hasn’t let one millimeter of his large body encroach on my side of the back seat, which is saying something since he easily takes up more than half the room. With almost no fanfare, we arrive at my tiny apartment. Penelope drives off and here we are. At the next step.

  I have no idea what I’m doing.

  Ares picks up both boxes that he brought with him from Charmaine’s and waits expectantly at the base of the stairs. Duh. He has no idea where to go. I lead him up to the second floor landing and unlock the door. “It’s not much. But it’s home.”

  He peers inside and nods. “Fine.”

  Well, yeah, what’s he going to do, complain? I’m providing him a place to live free of charge and a green card marriage. It better be fine. I don’t say this, though if he’d been a human guy, I would have.

  This isn’t my normal run-of-the-mill relationship, and I’m painfully aware that I’m cutting him a lot of slack. I have to. We’re going to be living together as husband and wife. I’ve never even lived with a guy roommate, and never considered living with a lover. Which Ares and I most certainly will be. It’s one of the perks I fully intend to get out of this marriage deal, along with companionship and you know, someone to do life with me.

  My skin tingles as I once again start fantasizing about the wedding night. Penelope has a lot of discretion when it comes to the bedroom gymnastics of her husband but I’ve gotten enough juicy details out of her to know that Eros is hung and a quick study. I have nothing but high expectations for my alien as a result.

  The apartment is smaller than I remember. I’ve lived here for a year or so, but when it was just me, I didn’t notice how there’s not a lot of room to maneuver. Now that Ares is in it, the walls are much closer together. My sudden nerves don’t help.

  “So, um, the bedroom is that way.” I point. “Bathroom is there too. Everything else you can pretty much see. Kitchen and living room and that’s it.”

  Ares parks his boxes behind the couch and settles into one of the cushions cautiously as if he’s afraid it’s going to give out. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he’s broken a few chairs in his day—he has to weigh in at 225 or so and it’s pure muscle. I have a sudden vision of the slats under my mattress splintering into kindling after a particularly vigorous round of sex and now I’m all hot and bothered.

  “So,” I squeak. “Here we are.”

  Should I dive right in? Curl up with him on the couch for a make-out session? Maybe we’ll be so hot for each other, we won’t make it to the bed. That would be okay.

  Ares nods. “Thank you for agreeing to marry.”

  “Sure. I mean, it’s not how I thought I’d wind up married, but it’s a work in progress, right?” He lifts a brow in question so I elaborate. “We have all the time in the world to get to the place where we’re like a married couple. You know. Comfortable. Affectionate. Falling in love. That sort of thing.”

  “I do not wish to have that marriage,” he says tersely.

  I blink. “What? You mean the affectionate part? I mean, okay. If you’re not a toucher, I’m sure we can come to some kind of—”

  “All. I am here to escape only.”

  “Hold the phone.” My heart shudders in my chest. “What are you talking about? This is a marriage. Where we’re going to be together. Like Eros and Penelope. Maybe have babies one day. We have to be together in order for that to happen.”

  But he’s shaking his head. “I require a place to live only, and citizenship.”

  Dumbfounded, I stare at this alien I just married. “And like a physical relationship too, right? Kissing and sex and holding hands. Like we’ve been doing thus far.”

  All two times. The lack of contact over the last week rears up and bites me on the butt as he stares back.

  “Courtship rituals. Only. A…notwendiges Übel.” His head shake as he searches for his English words isn’t so cute anymore. “Necessary.”

  The room’s size ceases to be a factor as I cross the room and crowd into his space with my hands on my hips. “What, like you did whatever you had to in order to cross the finish line with me?”

  His expression doesn’t change but I can tell I’ve hit the nail on the head.

  I’ve been duped. He doesn’t even have the grace to look chagrined or anything at my accusation, likely because he doesn’t see anything wrong with what he’s confessing. He never promised me a rose garden or even that we’d consummate the relationship. I assumed that all on my own. Because I’m a dummy who falls for slick aliens with secret agendas that don’t include a real marriage or honoring the connection we have.

  “That’s crap,” I tell him furiously and check my temper before I slug him. “You said you changed your mind about being matched to a human because I asked for you. What did you think I wanted you for, a wall decoration?”

  Ares crosses his arms over his massive chest. “I did not consider your motives. Only my own.”

  Well, that’s just like a man now, isn’t it? Apparently I hit the testosterone jackpot and my new husband isn’t even human.

  “You’re a smart guy, right? Consider them,” I suggest through bared teeth. And then because that’s a two way street, I take a deep breath and follow my own advice. “What were these all important motives of yours that made you think taking advantage of a girl halfway around the world sounded fun?”

  All at once, he unfolds from the couch, standing to tower over me. Maybe he got tired of craning hi
s neck or likes to play psychologic games designed to ensure I’m clear who has the upper hand in this situation. I don’t back down and there’s less than an inch separating us. We’d be nose to nose if he was a head shorter, but since he’s not, I have a great view of the swatch of skin just above the V of his T-shirt. Which is sexy as all get-out and makes me itch to trace the lines of his chest.

  No tracing. I’m mad at him.

  “Clementine.”

  My name sounds far more intriguing in his rumbly accent than I am fully prepared for. My knees turn to Jell-O. But I don’t let on.

  “Ares,” I return coolly and yelp as his hand stretches out. But he just slides a strand of my hair through his fingers as he watches me.

  “You gave me a place to go,” he tells me. “This is why I came. I could not stay in Geneva or—”

  He breaks off and something flits through his gaze that tells me he’s not searching for words, but uncomfortable. Too bad. This is my life he’s screwing with and I deserve to know why he jumped on the chance to get out of Switzerland. Plus, this is the first time we’ve had a genuine conversation—apparently—and I’m not ready for it to be over.

  “Or what?” I prompt. “You can’t back off now. We’re married. It’s too late to be telling me you thought I was going to be fine with an in-name-only marriage. I’m not. Start talking.”

  Somewhere in the middle of my impassioned speech, my finger lands in the middle of his chest and I’m not ashamed to say it’s partly because I want to touch him. He glances down at my hand and back up at me and suddenly there’s a lot more to deal with between us than a misunderstanding.

  The indescribable awareness between us coils around my fingers, making it impossible for me to move them. When we’re connected like this, I no longer have any interest in talking.

  I want to spread my fingers out and go exploring, palm down and pressed hard against his delicious contours. I don’t. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.

  “Do you know why I came to Earth?” he asks me in the long pause.

  “Same as Eros, I guess.” Another assumption. This is a good time to clear that up in case I’m wrong about that too. “You were a soldier, they did a bunch of stuff to your genetics that didn’t work and then dumped you. Yeah?”

  “I was bred for war,” he bites out and his voice is as hard as his expression. “On Torvis. I kill. No hesitation. Does this frighten you?”

  “Are you serious? Of course not.” I survey him. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have already, but danged if I can figure out this intimidation routine. “You’re not on Torvis and besides, they kicked you out. So you don’t kill anymore. Right?”

  Shock filters through the granite of his face and I’ve clearly thrown him for a loop. What, does he want me to be afraid of him? Or is he simply caught off guard that I’ve got his number?

  “You should be afraid.” He steps back so that I can’t reach him and my hand falls away. “I am not who you think I am.”

  Four

  Obviously I’m not going to get anything more out of Ares than his “I am death, fear me” pronouncement. I’m tired and heartsick that this is our wedding day, so I give up. For now.

  I shove an old sleeping bag at him from the back of the closet, which is left over from when I dated a guy who did a lot of camping. Thank God that didn’t work out. I’m not really one with nature enough to sleep outside in a flimsy tent, encased in something that is basically a burrito wrapper for a bear to chomp down on.

  Ares takes it without complaint and I retreat to the bedroom. Tomorrow is a new day and I get about four hours of sleep before I meet it head on. I spent most of the night stewing about the fact that I really didn’t get much of an answer from Ares about why he bothered to become a match candidate if he didn’t want to have a real marriage.

  There’s an underlying thread here that I can sense but don’t understand. We have chemistry. He can’t possibly deny it exists so what is he planning to do, ignore it? And why?

  After a shower, I feel marginally better and exit my bedroom to find Ares awake, dressed and sitting on the couch. Shame. I would have been okay with a minute or twelve to sneak a peek at him while still asleep, especially if he sleeps naked.

  Maybe another time. I’m still upset but I’ve calmed down enough that I think we can have a rational conversation before I have to go to the salon. At least that’s my plan. “Good morning.”

  “Why did you want a marriage?” he asks.

  Okay then. So we’re going to jump right into it. That’s fine, I’m not really one to beat around the bush and I appreciate that he’s curious. “Because I wanted a husband. A real one. One that I could fall in love with and vice versa. Who makes me laugh and gives me flowers for no reason. I’d like to have a baby one day. We’d take turns pushing her on a swing and putting her to bed.”

  My voice fades away as a stupid prick of tears chokes me. I guess I had that bottled up or something, and furthermore, it was nothing close to what I thought I was going to say—sex should have been the first thing out of my mouth for example. I’m a little surprised it didn’t even make the list, but I guess that’s not really what I’m looking for. I mean, yeah, it sounds great to have a husband who’s a dynamo in bed, but I just want the husband.

  He takes all of this in with his typical stoicism. “I cannot be that.”

  “Yeah, you’re not doing so hot in the making me laugh department, that’s for sure,” I tell him dourly. “You realize of course that I can send you back at a moment’s notice. Since we’re laying it all out there, I’m not sure why you didn’t just go along and keep your mouth shut.”

  “It would not be fair.”

  Well, that’s a kick. Ares has a sense of justice, as skewed as it may be. “The time to talk about fair would have been before we got married and you got me all off track with the kisses and stuff.”

  He shuts his eyes for a blink, and for a moment I think he’s trying to find a language that works in this situation, but then he unwinds from the couch, crossing to where I’m standing near the kitchen, arms folded over my midsection. I watch him approach, noting a glint in his eyes that may or may not be remorse. Hard to tell with him, especially given that I thought we were on the same wavelength and definitely were not.

  “I am sorry,” he says and I can tell he means it. “I needed to escape.”

  His distance before the wedding takes on new dimensions. He stayed away from me on purpose but I’m not about to guess why. “You said that before. What does that mean?”

  “You did not ask about my genetic alterations.”

  His silvery eyes bore into me and I need to look away but I can’t. I shake my head in an attempt to loosen the heavy moment. That doesn’t work either. Now I’m starting to get a healthy dose of fear, and I’m not sure I want to know. “Is it important? It doesn’t change anything for me.”

  At least I don’t think it does. I mean, I know that the Torvian military did genetic experiments on their soldiers and dumped them when the thing went sideways. Penelope told me all about it. But I envisioned whatever is wrong with my alien being like a chronic illness. You don’t tell someone with celiac disease that they’re too much trouble and you’d like a normal husband, thank you very much. You deal with it because the person is worth it and normal is overrated.

  And yeah, I had a lot of stars in my eyes about this match that I couldn’t see through. You don’t have to tell me. It’s my worst flaw. I have to admit that I did this backward. You’re supposed to figure out the guy is worth it before you find out he has baggage. I don’t know squat about Ares.

  “It is important,” he confirms. “I am a killer. My government sought to enhance my abilities. Heighten my thirst for ending life.”

  “Did it work?” I whisper because I’m starting to get an inkling of why he might not fill the bill for the loving husband and father to my children that I had pictured. Is this the part where I find out I married an axe murd
erer?

  “No.” The tension doesn’t dissolve an iota. “I am a failure. That is why I came to Earth.”

  I let out the pent up breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Then what’s the problem? You’re not a soldier anymore, you don’t want to kill people. We have chemistry and I want to get to know you better. Why the hell is that not a recipe for a good match?”

  “I have…powers that cannot be explained.”

  He’s hedging, and again, I can’t tell if he’s searching for words or being cagey. Eros has some weird crap he can do too, where he touches Penelope and can read her emotions. I honestly forgot about that part of the genetic experimentation. “It’s okay, I’m fine with whatever it is. It doesn’t bother me.”

  It bothered Penelope plenty, but I think it’s kind of cool that she doesn’t have to tell Eros if she’s mad or whatever. He can just sense how she feels, and anytime you don’t have to clue in your man about the state of your emotions sounds like a winning combination to me. I mean, the words if you don’t know what’s wrong, I’m certainly not going to tell you will never come out of her mouth.

  “It is not fine,” he says tightly. “I do not wish to be genetically modified. They had no right to do so.”

  “Well, of course not,” I return with heat because I am not one to let an opportunity for righteous indignation pass, especially on someone else’s behalf. “But it’s over now and you’re here on Earth to start a new life. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  The second skitter of foreboding skates down my spine as he shakes his head. “Not over. Your scientists want to study my genetics in hopes of replicating it.”

  “That’s why you wanted to leave Switzerland.” The affirmation is written all over his face and my heart squeezes more than I would like. Wow, that’s a crappy row to hoe. “They can’t touch you here.”

  I have no idea if that’s true, but I want to believe it and that’s enough for me. Without a second thought, I lace my fingers with his and hold on. He glances down at our linked hands but doesn’t pull away. A small victory, though what war I’m fighting here I haven’t figured out.