Page 222 of Untamed

The question barely leaves my mouth before I regret it. It hangs between us, delicate and loaded, like a thread pulled too tight.

Ares doesn’t answer right away. He stays still, forehead pressed to mine, his breath slow but heavy. I feel the tension ripple through his body, like something sharp and buried is trying to surface.

Then, finally, his voice cuts through the silence.

“Maybe.”

That one-word slices through me, but he doesn’t stop there. His hand cups the side of my face, thumb brushing along my cheek like he’s trying to ease the sting. “Hey, not because I wanted to.” His eyes bore into mine, unwavering. “Because it would’ve been expected. Strategic. Easier.”

Easier?It hurts to hear, but he does have a point. If he marries her, he wouldn’t need to go to war with one of the most powerful families in Sicily. He wouldn’t have worry about what threat is coming or how he’s going to protect me without getting himselfkilled. “But I would’ve hated every second of it. I could never have something this with someone like her. I never would have been faithful to her.”

I close my eyes. Breathe. Let it settle and he pulls me closer, his hand sliding around to the back of my neck, grounding me in his warmth.

“The moment you fell into my arms that night of the wedding, you changed the game, Jordyn.” A whisper now. “Because a man like me doesn’t plan for a future, but you, you make me want one. You make me want it all.”

Christ, what do you even say to that?

But somehow, my voice finds its way out, small, but steady.

“I don’t want easy, Ares.”He blinks, watching me.“I want real.”I draw in a quick breath to steady myself.“Messy. Complicated. Onlyyours.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and I see it, that flicker of emotion he’s too used to burying. The one he only ever lets me see.

“So, if this gets harder…” I keep going, my thumb tracing the edge of his collarbone, “if the world keeps trying to pull us apart, I want you to know something.” I brush my fingers along his bearded jaw, holding his gaze steadily.

“I’ll fight too. You won’t be the only one bleeding for this.”

And for a moment, he just stares at me like I’ve said something he’s never heard in his life. Then, quietly, barely above a breath he replies.

“You don’t bleed for me. Not in this life. I’ll carry the weight; I’ll draw the line. You stay behind me.”

I shake my head slowly as I lean in closer. “No, not behind...I’ll stand beside you.Always.” I press my lips to his, slow, sure, sealing the promise. Ares groans the moment my lips touch his, and readily responds to kiss before rolling me over onto my back and covers my body with his.

“I’ve fought wars, Jordyn. Been to hell and back more times than I can count. And nothing,nothing, has ever undone me the way you do.”

I smile with mock innocence, eyes gleaming. “Oh no… did I break the big badReaper?”

Ares lets out a quiet, low laugh, the kind that vibrates through his chest and sends a ripple of heat down my spine. His eyes darken, that dangerous edge curling at the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t break me, bambina,” he growls, voice low and wrecked as he grabs both my wrists and presses them above my head, pinning them hard to the floor. His delightful body cages mine, heavy, unrelenting, eyes locked on mine like I’m the only thing that exists.

“You claimed me. Branded me. Fucking rewired me from the inside out.”

His breath grazes my lips. “And now I’m going to spend every fucking second proving that your body is the only heaven I’ll ever believe in.”

The sun hangs low outside, casting long golden streaks through the windows of the manor as I trail my fingers along the banister, half-lost in thought. There’s a stillness in the air, one of those loaded silences that makes the whole house feel like it’s holding its breath.

That’s when I hear it.

“Miss Windslow.”

I stop mid-step and glance up.

One of the house staff stands at the end of the corridor, hands folded, expression unreadable.

“Don Luciano would like to see you in his office.”

My stomach twists, sharp and sudden. I nod without a word and begin the familiar walk down the hall, each step heavier than the last. I don’t know why, but it feels final, like I’m about to cross an invisible line I won’t be able to uncross.

Luciano’s office door is open.

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