Page 182 of Untamed

The boutique is small, elegant, and tucked between a florist and a gelateria. The kind of place with lace draped over satin hangers and soft jazz playing low through hidden speakers. Ares shouldn’t belong here, not with his leather jacket and don’t-fuck-with-me energy, but he owns the space the second he walks in.

He doesn’t browse. Doesn’t pretend to look at anything else. Just leans against the back wall, arms crossed, shades hooked on the front of his shirt as his eyes track my every move like a predator watching prey.

I pluck a few things from the racks, a black lace set, a pale pink one, something red and daring, and disappear behind the velvet curtain of the fitting room. My heart’s pounding, but not from nerves...from the thrill.

I take my time with the first set, letting the silk slip over my skin, smoothing down the straps. Then, I pull the curtain back just enough to peek out.

He’s still there. Still watching.

My voice is a whisper. “Ares, I need a hand with the laces. Can you help me?”

He wipes his hands on his jeans, even though they weren’t dirty, but he pushes off the wall, crossing the boutique in two slow, deliberate steps. The curtain slides open further as I let him in.

I step back a couple of steps as his eyes rake over me, hungry and dark.

“What do you think?”

Ares doesn’t answer right away. His eyes drag up to mine, dark and ravenous. “I think...” he murmurs, voice deep and lethal, “I want to rip that lace off with my teeth and fuck you against this mirror while everyone outside listens.” My breath catches as he steps in close, fingers ghosting over the lace at my waist.

“This one,” he says, eyes locked to mine. “You’re getting this one.”

“You haven’t even seen the others.”

“Don’t need to.”

His hand brushes the side of my thigh, dragging slow until his thumb hooks just beneath the band of the knickers.

“I’ll buy out the entire boutique if it means seeing you like this again.”

Heat pools low in my belly, and I part my lips when he leans into kiss me.

I barely register the footsteps outside the changing room until they pause near the changing room.

Ares hears it too.

His head tilts, eyes narrowing, not at me, but at the sound. A long silence follows, then the shuffle of retreating steps.

He waits another second before leaning in, brushing a kiss to the side of my mouth.

“Get dressed,” he murmurs. “We’re done here.”

“But—”

“I don’t like being watched.”

I blink. “You think someone was...”

“Not think.” His voice is clipped now, controlled. “I saw him.”

My skin chills, he brushes a knuckle down my cheek again, this time not in lust, but reassurance.

“Hey, you don’t need to be afraid, bambina,” he says. “Not with me.”

Ares doesn’t speak as we exit the shop, his hand tight around mine as if he’s expecting someone to rip me away at any moment. His shoulders are drawn, tension coiled in every step like a fuse has been lit beneath his skin. I can feel the shift in him, the shift from desire to something lethal.Protective.

The moment we step outside, he lets go of my hand, but keeps me close. We cross the narrow street, sunlight fractured by the canopy of vines overhead, and I glance up at him. His jaw is set like stone, eyes scanning every face that passes. I’ve gotten to know that look. It’s the one he wears when he’s already catalogued threats and chosen where to strike first.

We weave through the narrow streets, the late afternoon sun casting golden light across the cobbled stones. The scent of sea salt lingers in the air, mixing with the faint sweetness of citrus from a nearby fruit stand. I keep close to Ares, our fingers occasionally brushing but never locking, not here. Not where someone might see.

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