Page 58 of Make Me Hunt
The moment he pulls the cloth away; I realize that’s not just a chair.
It’s a gold throne.
“Really, Ares?” I ask, arching a brow. I could tell he was arrogant, but a gold fucking throne? That’s a little too much—even for him.
“What kind of god would I be without a throne?” He pauses. “This was a gift from King Midas. An offering for his god.” He smiles, taking my waist and guiding me to sit on it. “I told you I’d take care of you today.” There’s a grin on his face that somehow confirms there’s not a single decent thought in his head right now. “The role of queen suits you,” he murmurs, kneeling in front of me. “Now, where was I?” His lips glide down my collarbone in a slow, breathtaking line.
“To the part where you destroyed people for your entertainment,” I mutter, because I feel he’s doing the same thing to me—destroying me, dismantling me piece by piece.
“That waspart of the old me. My father took care of that. You see, we went so far that we almost destroyed humanity. Our games grew so wicked, we craved nothing but to watch people break, cry... or run.” His fingers drum against the throne’s arm. “Until Father realized that if we lost humanity, we’d lose our entire purpose. Spend eternity alone, until eventually, we’d turn on each other. So, he decided to wipe our memory clean. Well, most of them. We remember fragments, bits, and pieces. But never the whole picture. So, we could never return there. So, we could never re-create it.” His hands go lower, lifting my shirt—which is technically his shirt—to expose my bare skin. “And then he took our powers, leaving me with only one gift. The ability to hear someone’s greatest fears.”
“You can hear my fears?” I ask, almost quivering, knowing how often my mind’s been on Elias. And by now, I know this isn’t a trick. He's not bluffing. I’ve seen what he’s capable of.
“Not yours,” he hisses, almost annoyed by the fact that he can’t get inside my mind. “It doesn’t work if I'm too attached to a person.”
Too attached.
The notion scares me, but as much as I’d like to deny it, it also causes an unfamiliar sensation to tighten inside my chest. I’m not a fan of attachments or commitments. Elias was the only person I ever really got attached to and look where that got me.
I want to keep quiet and not give him anything, but something makes me speak anyway. “I don’t see how that’s a problem when it comes to me.”
“Hmmm, can’t tell if you’re fishing for a compliment or just deep in denial. Either way, let me prove my point.” He pushes my thighs apart, pulling my ass closer to the throne’s edge, his tongue instantly drawing a straight line to the center of my core.
Caught off guard, my fingers clutch the throne’s arms, eyes growing wide as he slips two fingers inside of me.
Well, that escalated quickly.
Not that I’m complaining. My body’s already vibrating under his touch, and even though I can’t explain why, he’s the only man who could ever make me truly feel like a woman. Like I’m a whole person, and not just a broken shard scraped out of my past.
That tempo in my legs, that I can’t control, is there again, like a madness I don’t know how to resist, taking over my body. Ares is that madness. That delirium. That unapologetically perfect spark I needed so badly but never saw coming.
His fingers move in and out, his lips sucking my clit like the damn thing belongs to him now, doing exactly what he promised—taking care of me.
For a moment, I forget why I’m here. I forget the whole purpose of everything, like it all fades, and the only thing remaining is the movement of his fingers and lips. Torturous. Unforgiving. Blissfully brutal.
My whole body responds so quickly that it feels like I’m a different person. Someone born for pleasure and not the pain I’ve been through.
“You know Brynn…” he whispers, giving me a breath, though his fingers don’t stop moving. “My role here on earth is to keep the balance, a perfect equilibrium so that the mistakes of our past won’t repeat themselves ever again.” He hums, pressing his thumb against my clit, and I feel I’m about to explode. But that’s not what takes me over the edge. It’s his ragged breath, his words coming out like he’s having difficulty keeping his focus. “So, what do you think? Am I doing a good job keeping the balance?”
And suddenly, that’s all I can focus on. The rhythm of his fingers. The precision of his tongue. The perfect balance he creates to guide me to one place. Ecstasy.
“Yes,” I breathe, my voice almost a whisper, like someone stole my vocal cords. “Yes,” I say again, hoping this time he heard it, because I need him to keep going, even if it’s just for a few more seconds. My body pulses with a chaotic need. My mind races to a place I should never allow it to, letting him take full control of me for a second.
Something I’ve never done before. Something I’ve never let anyone do before.
I break right in front of him, shatter into a million pieces, like I’ll never be whole again.
And the worst part? I want him to do it all over again.
Now, I do understand why the Greeks worshiped him, because he is a true god.
I just can’t allow him to be my god.
I’m still shaking as he lifts his head and settles at my feet, resting it against my thighs, his gaze lost far away in the distance, my fingers playing in his ink-black hair. “I wish I knew how the fuck this happened.” He trails off, not with regret, but with a type of confusion clinging to his words.
“Well, I’m pretty sure you made me sit in the chair, then kneeled, and…” I can’t help but laugh, because I know that’s not what he meant.
And suddenly, it feels strange. I haven’t laughed in so long. I haven’t felt anything remotely close to joy in so long, it almost seems wrong doing it.
