Page 103 of Untamed

My hand trembles as I reach out and push open the heavy door.

The villa is silent, draped in shadows. My footsteps are light against the cold marble floor, but my breath comes in shaky bursts as I follow the trail of dark crimson droplets. Blood. A trail that doesn’t end, it leads. Around corners. Down the corridor. Toward the door that’s been left slightly ajar.

I push it open.

The room is dimly lit, quiet save for the shallow drag of breath coming from the man standing at its centre. Ares. His broad back is to me, muscles tense, his shirt peeled halfway off, soaked through with blood. The sight roots me to the floor, and I feel my stomach churn.

“Ares,” I whisper, the name catching like glass in my throat.

He doesn’t move.

But before I can step further inside, a hand wraps around my arm and yanks me back. Hard.

“Jordyn, no,” Dante’s voice is low and firm. “You can’t be here.”

I twist in his grip, trying to fight him off. “Let go of me!”

“You need to leave?—”

“I said let me go, Dante.”

The sound of my struggle must reach him, because in the next breath, a voice slices through the air like a whip. “Dante.” One word. Cold and commanding. “Get your fucking hands off her.” Dante freezes. His grip loosens, and I tear my arm away as Ares turns to face us.

He’s pale. Shirtless now, blood streaked down his right side, his shoulder wrapped in gauze that’s already soaked through. But it’s not the wound that steals my breath, it’s his eyes. Storm-dark, wild and locked on Dante’s hand like it’s a threat, and he wants nothing more than to break it.

Then they shift to me.

And just like that, the world falls away.

My legs shake as I slowly walk toward him. “Oh, my God...” Ares stands still as I reach him. My heart sinks. My chest aches just looking at him. I take another step. My fingers twitch at my side, aching to touch him, to reach for his skin and see for myself just how bad it is. When I reach out, he finally moves, sharp and sudden, stepping away from my touch like it burns.

“Don’t,” he grits out, voice low and wrecked.

I freeze, my hand suspended mid-air, breath caught in my throat as he turns his back to me.

“Go home, Jordyn.” he says next, the words strained through clenched teeth. “Dante is right, you shouldn’t be here.”

But I don’t move. I can’t. He turns his head slightly, enough for me to see the pain etched into his profile, the blood at the corner of his mouth, the tension carved into every line of his body.

Then his eyes flick to mine, hard and unreadable. At first they do a quick sweep over me, likely taking in my sleep attire and I swear I see him swallow hard before he speaks.

“What did I tell you,” he growls, “about storming into places that belong to me, Jordyn?” My heart splinters in my chest.

Because even bleeding, even broken, he’s still trying to keep me out.

“You’re hurt, Ares. What did you expect to me do? I wanted to come and see if you’re okay?”

“I expect you to mind your damn business.” He retorts gravely. “Last time I checked you weren’t a doctor and as you can see, I already have one, therefore you have no reason to be here.”

My brows knit and I can feel my temper flaring. I walk over to him, and kick the door shut behind me with my foot. It slams shut, the sound echoes through the villa. “I don’t need to be a doctor to be here, Ares. I care about you, that should be reason enough.”

Ares stares at me, his chest rises and falls like every breath is war. I inch closer to him and that’s when I see the bruises on his cheek, on his ribs, the cut on his temple.

He turns, chest heaving, eyes burning. His body bruised and battered and still, somehow, built like a god carved in rage.

“Then don’t,” he says lowly.

“Really?” I breathe, tears stinging. “Even now, you’re still trying to push me away?”

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