The War God's Woman

10. Unbearable Feelings

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.