Page 81 of The Cursed Chalice
“Bend,” I command.
Slowly, he bends to me, and I take my thumb and wipe my tinted lip gloss off his mouth. He catches my thumb between his lips and sucks it off. I inhale as his tongue swipes the back of my thumb.
“Again, presenting Mr. and Mrs. Kallistratos.” Hecate claps, along with Phobos and Deimos. Nisa wedges her way between Ares and me. She smiles up proudly at Ares.
“Now, can we please go eat? I smelled the food, and it’s great,” Deimos says as he rubs his stomach.
Hecate walks in front of us. “Just know this: tomorrow this will be in the news.”
Right, the news. Elias will see it and freak. It’ll be so bad. Panic begins to knock at my mind, and my hand squeezes.
“I have you, Little Flame.” Ares didn’t need to shout it to me, but once again, when I feel unstable, he centers me.
Hand in hand, we walk back into the house. I turn toward the bedroom to change, but Ares’ grip tightens, stopping me.
“Come with me.”
“What about the dinner?”
“They will be fine. I have something to show you.” He doesn’t have to drag me with him; I’m willing to go where he wants me to follow.
I’m married now. I stare at our clasped hands and this man…Ares. He is my husband. Does he have flaws? Yes, flaws I can live with. Then again, this is not a real marriage; this is for my protection. It’s not like he’s going to fall in love with me. I feel a small pinch at the thought of Ares not loving me.
“Almost there.” His voice pulls me from my thoughts.
Silently, we walk past rooms that I have grown accustomed to. We enter the library, and I close the door behind me. He drops my hand and moves to the bookshelf. He pulls three books, and a door springs open.
“Come.” His hand stretches out to me.
“This feels very Phantom of the Opera,” I chuckle as I place my hand in his.
“I do have the scarred face of the phantom.”
I stop just as I was about to step onto the top stair. “No. Your face is not like the Phantom's. You, Ares, are not a phantom. You are my husband.”
Ares says nothing as he holds my hand and walks me down a grey stone spiral staircase.
When we finally reach the bottom, a steel door blocks us. I feel anxious, wondering what he has behind this door. He leans forward, and a green light fans slowly over his face.
The heavy iron door hisses open. I shouldn’t be this excited to see this room. Suppose it was my new gilded prison?
As we step forward into a darkened vault, the air feels cool. I inhale the scent of cedar and aged wood.
“Lights on.”
I hold my breath as the lights snap on from the very depths of the room, coming closer to us.
I squint my eyes as I see glass cases with art pieces in them. As the final set of lights clicks over my head, I stagger, looking at the first piece hanging on the wall. I let go of Ares’s hand and walk slowly to the painting on the wall. A Caravaggio glares down at me. The chiaroscuro is as deep as the day it was painted.
“Is…” I press my hand to my heart. “Is that a Degas sketch? I thought this was destroyed during World War 1.”
My fingers hover over the sketch. I walk further down the room. On a pedestal under a glass case, there is a broken bronze kylix that could be from Athens, based on the style of the kylix.
“My God, Ares.” I stop in front of what I think is an original Gustav Klimt. Then I move on. “Do you know what you have here?”
He doesn’t answer, but I hear his chuckle. My hands tremble as I look over a painting of a tent. I can see the back of a man and the dark hands of a woman wrapped around it. On the floor, there is a discarded shield and spear and a trunk with a wolf pelt and a gilded mirror. I feel like I’ve seen this before, but I can’t recall. I am instantly distracted by the signature of Leonardo da Vinci. It’s rare that you see his name on a painting, but research shows that when he loved a painting, he signed it. I wish I had my equipment with me to check its authenticity. But from experience…this painting is real.
ARES
