The Beloved of the God of War

11 - Nectar

Poseidon was dead.

For hours afterward, I mulled over the implications. Sea trade had long since been snuffed out by the catastrophic events of the Merge, and no one I knew really spared a thought about the deep seas, what with the township’s location being so far inland. It was true that there were far less stories about travelers who had sighted Poseidon than with any other god, but there were still at least a few whispers here and there. It made sense, though, that those stories would have been nothing but lies: Poseidon’s home was the sea, and he would have no reason to travel on land when he could easily send one of the countless minor river spirits to do his bidding in his stead.

Was there any reason for Ares to lie? Could it be possible that this was all just an elaborate ruse? I still didn’t know why Zeus was forcing me to make this journey at all. I was grateful I was still alive, don’t get me wrong - but why hadn’t he killed me? He could have sent Ares alone to do what needed to be done. I had no skills, no powers that would prove useful. I was just a fledgling new god only in name, barely in power. I would be nothing but a burden.

"What exactly is that?" I asked when dusk fell and Ares beckoned me over to join him. I slowly lowered myself into a crouch in front of him.

"The horn of the sacred goat Amalthea," he said curtly, and despite the fact that I had asked the question, I was still surprised that he bothered to answer. I had been half-expecting him to ignore me. "The mortals call it the Cornucopia."

My eyes widened. I knew what that was - well, sort of. But I had always thought it was a basket that overflowed with never-ending fruits and vegetables, all vibrantly colored and plump. This was nothing like I would have expected. And then there was the other thing about it, too:

“It’s very big,” I remarked. “Not long so much, but really, really wide for a goat horn.” I would know, of course. My mother had raised animals all her life on the farm before we left it, and I had grown up around my fair share of goats.

Ares looked down at the Cornucopia and was silent for a moment. “It was a very large goat.”

We both stared at it.

"Just eat," he said finally.

I held my breath just as the ambrosia hit my tongue, but there was something different about it this time. Or maybe there was something different about me. Either way, I didn’t feel the world melt and spin around me as it had yesterday - or seven days ago, rather. It still tasted like something beyond mortal understanding, divinely delicious and fulfilling, but it didn’t overwhelm me.

“More,” said Ares. “Just in case. You need to drive out the last of the scent of mortality in you. If you smell anything like a human, they’ll mistake you for one.”

I grimaced. I wasn’t very hungry despite not having eaten during the day, and the thought of taking in any more of the ambrosia, no matter how amazing it tasted, made me feel almost sick. He must have noticed my expression, however, and to my surprise, he gave me a single nod that almost seemed understanding.

“Stripping you of the humans’ mortality means you’ll feel neither hungry nor thirsty so long as you stay away from their food. You won’t need sleep for days either, under normal circumstances.” After motioning impatiently for me to take one last small handful, he picked up the horn with both hands, carrying it gingerly as if it were a living thing. Maybe it was. Who could know when it came to magic?

“What are you doing?” I asked curiously once I swallowed the last of the grains, watching him as he tipped the mouth of the horn toward his lips and inclined his head back. Everything would spill out over his face and scatter all over the boat, I thought silently.

But it didn’t. Instead, I heard the distinct sound of liquid being swallowed, and I stared as I saw Ares’s throat working with each gulp. When he lifted the horn away from himself, I heard something sloshing inside it instead of the sound of grains scattering and whispering against its sides.

“Come here.”

I rocked back in surprise at his command and lifted my eyes to meet his gaze, dark and expectant. He was holding the horn out slightly away from himself. Had I misunderstood? Oh, of course I had. I wished I could pinch myself for thinking that he was telling me to get up and go to him, but I shook it off and reached for the Cornucopia instead.

“No. Come here.”

I froze with my arms still outstretched. My fingers hovered just centimeters away from the sides of the horn. “Why?” I asked hesitantly.

Ares’s red eyes narrowed. “Because,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of an edge now, “I need to help you drink the nectar. You can’t do this yourself yet.”

“Why?” I was brave enough to insist. Something about the idea of drawing so close to him again made gooseflesh prickle over my entire body. It made me just nervous enough to exercise the courage to stay exactly where I was, unmoving.

I saw his jaw clench once before he answered. “Because you won’t be able to stop yourself. You’ll drink until you choke, or burst.” He beckoned at me with one hand now, more forcibly this time, and still I hesitated.

I didn’t know why I was so afraid, truthfully. Yes, he was an old god, and he could easily m**m me with a touch if he wished, but he had already proven that he wasn’t malicious enough to do it without reason or provocation. And I was needed for this journey for some reason that remained a mystery to me. I had sense enough that I knew he would not hurt me merely for his pleasure.

No, there was something else that made me so hesitant. Something about the inhuman heat he radiated - it made me anxious, the way it penetrated my skin and felt like it was warming my blood, my bones. He had picked me up and carried me twice already, and though I couldn’t admit it until now, both times I had felt my heart pound with something that wasn’t quite fear.

When I waited too long to make my decision, Ares simply reached for one of my outstretched hands and pulled me to him with a casual, effortless, and yet fearsome strength that made me gasp. I had been kneeling just a second before, but now I stumbled forward on my knees until I fell against his broad, bare chest. He still wasn’t wearing anything but the sweatpants that looked far too banal and mundane on him, and the heat of his skin melted through me immediately. I couldn’t move for the first few seconds, paralyzed by the shock of finding myself on my knees and pressed against him. He was so tall that even though he was sitting, he only had to slightly tilt his head up to fix his burning gaze upon me.

Just as I began to fidget and pull away, my hands pushing against his muscular shoulders where they had somehow landed, he pulled me down with an arm around my waist. I was all but in his lap now, and he twisted me around so that I was nestled sideways on top of his crossed legs, with my own splayed slightly just past his waist. I stared at him.

“Drink,” he said, his voice as hard as stone. He slid his arm up from my waist, until I could feel his hand against the back of my head and the nape of my neck, almost cradling it. And then I felt his fingers glide up just a few inches more, curling around my tresses at their base with an inexplicably gentle firmness. With his other hand, he brought the rim of the Cornucopia to my lips, and tipped it toward me, while at the same time, he tilted my head back with the fingers he had tangled in my hair.

I was too stunned to protest, but it was just as well. When the first drop hit my tongue, I forgot everything - completely. My mind emptied itself and felt wide and empty and pure. This was nothing like the ambrosia, which had made me feel an instant, raging joy that had overtaken my senses. Rather, this was a calm peace, a cleansing, and I found myself craving it more intensely than I would have ever thought possible.

I even felt my hands reaching up to try to tip the horn further forward as I greedily drank the nectar, seeking ever more. Even though I was already swallowing entire mouthfuls of it at a time, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I needed it. I never wanted to stop.

And then it stopped. The rim of the horn that had been pressing against my lips fell away, and I reflexively tried to lunge forward to grasp hold of it before I lost it all. Something held me back, an arm that suddenly wrapped around my waist. And senseless sounds that might have been words rushed around in my ears like a windstorm, but I couldn’t possibly waste time trying to decipher any of it. I struggled to reach for the Cornucopia until I saw it flung away, hitting the wooden bottom of the boat and spinning frantically on one curved side. Nothing spilled out, but in my fevered mind, I failed to deduce that meant there was no more nectar to be had. I lunged for it again.

It was only when I felt the whole world abruptly tip around me and my back landing on the deck that I stopped. I panted as I stared up into Ares’s eyes. He was leaning over me, pinning me down with one hand on my shoulder and the other braced against the side of the boat just above my head. It took a few seconds for the fog in my mind to clear, and I now realized that I had narrowly avoided hitting the back of my head on the edge.

But even that faded away to insignificance in my mind when I felt Ares’s deep, slow breaths ghosting over me. The heat of his every exhale warmed me and set my nerves alight, made me shrink back from the intensity of the electric sensation running up and down my entire body. But there was nowhere to shrink away to: half of him was pressing down on me, keeping me still, and I could feel every cut, every ripple of his upper body even through my clothes.

“That,” he said slowly, as I trembled under his heat, “is why I didn’t let you.”

And then he raised himself without another warning, getting to his feet to retrieve the Cornucopia and stow it somewhere. I heard his heavy footsteps treading the length of the boat, and still I could not move for a long moment. My entire body felt singed, as if he had run his scorching fingers down every inch of me, leaving trails of an invisible fire that still burned even now.

Finally, I raised my hands to cover my face, feeling the growing heat of the blush that had risen to my cheeks.