Page 49 of Blood Descendants
The house is quiet when we first walk in. No signs of life. “This should only take a minute,” Ares says as we walk up the stairs.
He’s here to pick up some paperwork. I don’t understand their world, so whatever that paperwork is, it’s meaninglessto me. But it’s all part of getting Ares access to the records that might lead us to where Ophelia is.
The sound of a woman giggling pauses me on the stairs. Ares looks back at me, his eyes widening as he stops, listening for if we need to retreat and head back out.
“Ares,” Augustus calls out from the floor we haven’t quite reached. “Lana. Come on up.”
The look on Ares’ face tells me he’d really, really rather not. But holding my hand tighter, he continues up the stairs. A woman walks by, coming from the direction of Augustus’ office to the living room. She’s wearing a silky bathrobe, but it’s obvious there’s nothing else under it. All the important bits are covered, but barely.
“Don’t let us interrupt,” Ares says in annoyance as Augustus wanders out of his office. At least he is fully clothed. There isn’t even a hair out of place.
I don’t even want to know.
“I won’t,” Augustus says with a smirk. The woman takes a seat on the couch, and the chef walks out of the kitchen with a tray of food. She helps herself without a word. Thankfully, Augustus comes out with some documents in a folder, which he hands over to Ares. “Take care of this, and you can step up to the next level, son.”
What does that mean?What does that mean?I want to scream because it makes something in me jump to attention. It makes me hope.
“It’s already done,” Ares says, never once breaking his father’s gaze. “All I needed was this and the signatures.”
“It’s all signed,” Augustus says with a wicked grin. “Well done.”
I nearly jump out of my skin when movement from my leftstartles the shit out of me. Another woman wanders out of Augustus’ office. She has on some lacy panties. But nothing else.
“Allez-vous enfin nous rejoindre, Ares?” she says as she walks by us, eying my fake fiancé up and down with absolutely no shame. I don’t know any foreign languages, but that definitely sounded French to me.
“Bianca,” Ares says, his nostrils flaring in annoyance and disgust. “It’s been a few years.”
“Too many,” she says, the words heavily accented. Her eyes are fucking Ares already, but she wanders by, straight to the woman on the couch. She kisses the woman’s neck, her hands not hesitating as they lay claim.
“You’re welcome to j?—”
“Don’t you fucking dare proposition me again,” I cut Augustus off with a glare that could kill.
He simply grins.
Until Ares steps forward. There’s the quick switch of metal on metal, and I get a quick glimpse of a switchblade before Ares presses the tip into his father’s chest, right over his heart. He fists Augustus’ expensive shirt, keeping his father from being able to step back.
“You make another disgusting comment to my fiancée again, and I will make sure it’s the last words you ever utter,” Ares says. His tone is low and lethal. His eyes are so cold, surely it’s no longer the god of war he’s named after but the god of death. “You proposition her to join you in this house ever again, and I’ll make sure you never create another child, yet live to suffer the rest of your life without a dick. Do you understand me, Augustus? When it comes to my future wife, you’re on monk-level behavior. Got it?”
“Careful, my son,” Augustus says, pride and vengeance warring on his face. “You’re starting to sound exactly like the man I’ve trained you to be.”
The sight of something red behind the two of them draws my attention. Behind the warring father and son, Bianca’s lips have latched onto the first woman’s neck. And from that point of connection, a trail of blood drips down her flesh. The woman sits there frozen.
Bianca makes a noise of greed, pulling harder. Her hand comes to the woman’s neck, and she smears that trail of blood over her skin.
My heart thuds hard in my chest. A faint ringing starts somewhere in the room, or my head. The breath catches in my throat.
And when I look back at Ares and Augustus, the knife is no longer at Augustus’ chest. Ares has the blade pressed to the side of his father’s throat. And a trickle of blood drips from it. “I’m nothing like you. I may be your protege, but I will never be like you.”
My eyes fix on the blood dripping down to his collar now. My vision starts to tunnel, and the room grows darker. The floor seems to shift beneath my feet, but I swear I won’t go down.
“If blood makes you squeamish, you are marrying into the wrong family, my dear.”
Augustus’ words barely register in my brain, but Ares’ head suddenly whips around, his gaze meeting mine.
And in a movement that’s too fast for me to see, he’s at my side. His hazel eyes fill my vision, and in them, I see panic rising.
“Get me out of here,” I try to say, but the words are so constricted in my throat, I’m not sure they make it out.
