Ares' Temptation

The God of War is about to discover love…

At the wedding of two Greek gods, Kaye Underhill is the only mortal in a sea of scantily clad nymphs and fickle satyrs. And worse — she’s dateless. The only bright side is the hot, muscled hunkiness of the God of War, who’s seated next to her. But there’s no way Kaye could ever grab a god’s attention… Is there?

Ares is in big trouble. A vengeful witch curses him, and the first person he touches will steal his strengths, while he receives their weaknesses. When Kaye trips, Ares catches her and poof! His powers disappear, and Kaye suddenly has the strength and coordination of a Greek god. To break the curse and regain his powers, Ares must get Kaye to fall in love with him.

But for the god who makes war, making love presents a whole new set of problems…

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Aubrie Dionne. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at
www.entangledpublishing.com
.

Covet is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Anya Kagan

Cover design by Curtis Svehlak

Photography by Thinkstock

ISBN 978-1-63375-249-8

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition March 2015

Chapter One

Curse

Kaye glanced around the rows of gods and goddess as Pan and Syrinx recited their vows in the garden of Pan’s vast estate. Was she the only one without a wedding date?

The pair of water nymphs sitting beside her wore only floral blossoms and river reeds.
What a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.
The nymphs giggled like two schoolgirls in the back row of class.

In front of her sat a curly haired poet in a glowing white robe with his goddess, dressed in a transparent gown showing, among other things, her butt crack.

This was going to be some after party.

On the groom’s side, an older man with a beard trailing on the floor sat with a woman who looked like some sort of medieval witch clothed in a hooded cloak made from crow feathers. Kaye’s formal, halter-neck Versace dress was a total anachronism. Had she taken a look at the guest list, she might have worn a toga instead. She would even have fit in better if she’d gone naked. It figured. As a clumsy, ugly duckling, she was used to being the odd one out. Never mind the only mortal in the crowd. It wasn’t like Syrinx had a lot of earthy friends.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and pay attention!
She should have been listening to her best friend’s sweet vows or watching Pan’s charming face, full of devotion.
If only I could find a man who looked at me like that.

Kaye leaned forward, trying to see beyond Medusa’s writhing snakehead.
Wait a second. Who’s that?

A bronze-skinned, Roman gladiator with muscles galore sat in the front row, wearing gleaming silver armor and a red cape. Glorious golden locks fell around a proud jaw. He turned slightly as if he sensed her watching him, and his eyes shone oceanic blue. A calm confidence emanated from him, as if he had the whole wedding at his command.

Even better, he was alone.

“You don’t want anything to do with him,” one of the river nymphs said, actually acknowledging Kaye’s presence.

Kaye turned her head, pretending to watch the ceremony. “With who?”

“That god you’re drooling over.” The river nymph played with a pink flower covering her right nipple. One more jerk and it would fall off.

“I’m not interested in any god here,” Kaye whispered.

“Sure you aren’t.” The river nymph straightened in her seat and ran her fingers through her turquoise hair, or at least, the part not tangled in seaweed. “I’m going to warn you anyway. That’s Ares, the God of War. He’s more interested in cutting off someone’s head than acquiring a maiden’s hand.”

“Oh?” He didn’t sound like a man you’d take home to meet mom, which only piqued Kaye’s curiosity. She always chased the wrong type of guy. It was her very own tragic flaw. That and her clumsiness. She smoothed the front of her halter top. “Bad reputation, eh?”

“He has a horrible temper, and he’ll wage war against anyone who crosses him. Just last year, he beheaded some demigod who insulted his brother.”

“Sounds like he needs to have more fun. You know, loosen up.”

“And you think you’re the one to do that?” The river nymph’s eyes bugged out. “Good luck.”

Applause interrupted their conversation. Pan and Syrinx kissed, and trumpets blared the recessional music. Kaye watched her best friend stroll down the aisle with her new husband on her arm. Syrinx glanced in her direction and winked. Her white-blond hair glimmered in the sun, but nothing was more radiant than her smile. Kaye hadn’t seen her that content in all the years they worked at the florist shop together.

The guests began to file out after the pair, walking through the grounds to the reception in the main dining hall. The river nymphs beside her didn’t budge, forcing Kaye to wait until most of the assembly passed. She wasn’t about to step over the giant in furs sitting on her right side, or ask the glowing god in front of her to move.

By the time she entered the dining hall, mostly everyone had found their seats. She scanned the room, looking for her name on a table. At least she could bet on Syrinx seating her next to someone who wouldn’t make her feel uncomfortable in this room of egos and magical splendor. Not that she wasn’t familiar with feeling inadequate. She’d had lots of practice growing up.

Kaye picked up the hem of her long gown, focusing on not tripping as she wandered from table to table. Gods and goddesses laughed and drank like they had the world at their fingertips. Even the minor deities talked as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

All of the river nymphs sat together, chatting furiously. The furry giant sat next to Medusa, Old Beardy, and the witch. Thank goodness Kaye wasn’t at that table.

She moved towards the front of the hall, where three glowing goddesses sat next to their bronze mates. Ares sat alone, his face set in stoic determination as if he frowned upon the entire event. The seat next to him lay open.

No. Syrinx wouldn’t…

Kaye walked closer, reading the name on the card.

She had.

Kaye’s heart skipped. Dreaming about Muscly was one thing, but actually making small talk with him? Especially after what that river nymph had said? Kaye’s hand flew up to her neck. She’d like to keep her head.

Syrinx and Pan entered the room, and applause rose up, forcing Kaye to sit before she looked like some lost grad student on the way to her first class. She pulled out the chair and settled in, smoothing down her dress. Muscly radiated heat from the seat next to her, drawing her in closer. He smelled like every brand of Old Spice shower gel combined in some hot creation of man.

Ares turned toward her. Interest sparked in his eyes, making her cheeks burn. “I do not recognize you.”

She extended her hand. “Kaye Underhill, nice to meet you.”

He stared at her hand as if he didn’t know what to do with it. “What manner of goddess are you?”

“Goddess?” She laughed. Should she take that as a compliment? “I’m a mortal.”

His gorgeous eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”

Kaye’s smile disappeared as she crossed her arms. Sure she was a mortal, but it wasn’t like they were on Mount Olympus. This party was in Maine, where she and Syrinx had kept up their florist shop…on planet Earth. She had just as much right to be there as the gods did, more so if she counted all of the hours she’d spent with Syrinx in their shop. The gods were the ones out of their element. Not her. “I happen to be Syrinx’s best friend. What are
you
doing here?”

“My business is a private matter.” He studied his glass of water with disappointment. Then he waved down a waitress and asked for the strongest ale they had.

She should have let the conversation die right there, but being around the gods and goddesses had heightened her sense of insecurity, and she’d had enough of being overlooked. She wasn’t about to let this arrogant prick brush her off so easily. “Are you a friend of the bride or groom?”

His eyebrow rose as if he’d underestimated her persistence. “Neither.”

Oh.
She picked up her own glass and sipped the ice water to cool her growing impatience. A friend of neither? “Then, why are you here?” Kaye bit her tongue.

Ares blinked in shock. “I told you, my business is a private matter.”

“Oh, right. Private matters.” Kaye tapped her fork on the table.
This is going to be a long night.

As waitresses passed out salad plates, the best man took the microphone. His turned-up ears and long, curly hair told Kaye he was a satyr, one of Pan’s forest companions.

The satyr tapped the mic to get everyone’s attention. “I’ve known Pan for eons, ever since the cool springs of Mount Olympus started flowing from the summit to satiate the wild forests.” Mischievousness crossed the satyr’s face. “But never did I suspect him capable of settling down.”

A collective laugh echoed over the crowd. Everyone except Ares was smiling. Muscly’s eyes had turned hard and cold as ice.

Kate wanted to kick him in the shin. She followed his gaze across the room to the table where Beardy sat with his witch companion. Beardy clutched his stomach with laughter, but the witch scowled back at Ares with such loathing, it chilled Kaye’s heart.

What had Ares done to piss her off? Kaye shifted in her seat, trying to tear her gaze away from the other table. Every sensible fiber in her being told her to stay out of it. She didn’t even like the guy—
ahem
—god. But, she’d finally found an imperfection in the group—a sign that the gods weren’t as high and mighty as they’d like her to believe.

Ares had a flaw, and she wanted to find out what it was.

…

Finally, the server brought him some honey-colored ale. Ares held the mug up to his lips and chugged. He’d have to drink ten of these goblets to quench his rising anger. For now, one would have to do. Not only was Hekate waiting for a moment of weakness to glean her revenge, but a pesky mortal woman had also taken too much of an interest in his business. Didn’t she know not to stare down a witch? Curiosity sparked in her dark eyes as she followed the witch’s scowl back to him and raised an elegantly arched eyebrow. He’d have to find a way to get rid of her before she got herself wrapped up in in a god’s war way over her pretty little mortal head.

He had to admit, for a mortal, she rivaled the goddesses around them. She had Syrinx’s earthiness complemented by Aphrodite’s sensuality. He hadn’t seen such an attractive mix of qualities in all his years. Her brazen honesty had caught his attention. Which was precisely why he should stay away from her for the rest of the night. With his wars waging, he had no time for the frivolities of women.

“Someone’s pissed,” the mortal whispered as she speared a tomato with her fork. “What did you do?”

If Ares hadn’t been so agile, he would have fallen off his chair. He turned toward the mortal to ensure he’d heard her correctly. “Are you addressing me?”

“Yeah.” She spoke with a snarky emphasis that bordered on disrespect. “It’s not like
I
stole one of her crow feathers.”

If she were anyone else, he would have pounded his fist and broken the table. But, something about her took control of him and even calmed him as if he was under a spell. “I beheaded her brother.”

“Oh my.” The mortal popped the tomato in her mouth. “Why?”

“He spoke ill of my brother, challenging our family honor.”

The mortal swallowed hard, as if the tomato had trouble going down her slender neck. “So you beheaded him?”

Pride surged up, and Ares straightened his shoulders. “In a glorious battle of our armies on the peak of Mount Olympus.”

“Oh.” She looked down and pushed her fork around her plate, unimpressed. If anything, she appeared disappointed, even disgusted.

His stomach sank to his knees. Never had a mortal made him feel so small. “You do not approve?”

She wiped her tiny, pouty lips with her napkin. “It’s just that…war for the sake of revenge is unjustifiable. We handle things differently around here.”

Frustration built inside him. “I wage war not for the sake of revenge, but for justice.”

The mortal shrugged. “Whatever your motives, lives are lost.”

Ares bristled. “It is an honor to die in battle. Those lives lost are sacrificed for a noble cause. You do not approve of war, yet your people have waged wars throughout all the time they’ve lived on this earth.” Why did he feel the need to justify his actions? It wasn’t as though this mortal’s opinion of him mattered.

“True. But, I’d like to think we are heading toward world peace.”

Peace? Ares paused, shocked at this woman’s gall. Did she know who he was? “Mortal, I am the God of War, one of the Twelve Olympians, and the son of Zeus and Hera.”

She glared, her dark eyes on fire. “My
name
is Kaye. And I’m a bookkeeper for Sylvia’s Creations, the daughter of Kim and John Underhill, thank you very much.”

Applause precluded any chance of a quick comeback. The ale had had no effect, and Ares’ frustration had only worsened since the mortal sat down. Worse yet, across the room Hekate had disappeared.

Beside him, a fork clanged onto a plate, bounced off a napkin, then fell into his lap. He turned back to the mortal who demanded to be called Kaye.

“I’m sorry.” She reached over and plucked the fork from his lap. Her cheeks burned as her fingers brushed against his thighs. “I’m a little clumsy sometimes.”

Despite his rigid self-control, the feeling of her light fingertips aroused desire deep within him. Ares stood. “Excuse me. There is a matter I must attend to.”

He strode from the room to the hallway. Not only did he have to cool down, but he also needed to find Hekate before she stirred up trouble. Give him a healthy sword fight any day, but a magical battle with a witch confounded him.

In the center of the main foyer, white lilies poured from a giant porcelain vase painted with nude women. A picture of fruit hung above a stone fireplace, and a pillowed bench sat against the wall. Hekate could be anywhere: a pillow, a flower, or even an apple on the wall.

“Show yourself, witch.” He drew his sword. “And we’ll handle this honorably.”

Cackling laughter echoed around him. “Poor Ares. Too obtuse to see beyond the physical. Foolish enough to attack a man with such a powerful sister.”