Forever Yours, Kitten

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

ARES“A baby, Ares?” Aurora asked, staring up at me with eyes a sea of soft pinks, oranges, and yellows—the true colors of the dawn that flooded across the Sanguine Wilds before the sunlight overwhelmed the forest and life awakened—but not the eye color of my Aurora. “You want to have a baby?”

I wrapped my arms around her smaller waist, lifting her into the air and spinning her around, her long brown hair swinging. She tossed her head back and giggled, the sweet sounds getting lost in the wind.

“Yes, I want a child with you,” I said against the column of her neck, kissing her. “It’s all I’ve wanted for the past thousand years.”

When I finally placed her back down on the ground, she brushed her fingers through my hair and grinned. “Of course I want to have a baby with you,” she whispered, her gaze suddenly falling to the trees surrounding us, her forehead creasing. “But Hella … she’s after us.”

“She doesn’t matter, Kitten,” I said. “I’ll protect you from her.”

Aurora stepped away from me and shook her head. “We can’t, Ares.”

Rogue wolves approached from all directions in the woods, surrounding Aurora and eventually sitting at her feet. She crouched down between them, running her slender fingers across their ratty fur and staring up at me.

“We can’t let her control our lives forever,” I said, feeling the anger pool inside me.

Mars had told me to ask Aurora about having a child without fury and rage building, and I had f*****g tried. But that was who I was, and I couldn’t act like someone I wasn’t. Aurora was with me because I was the god of war and would protect her, no matter what.

She needed to know I would do anything for her.

“I would kill those gods with my own two hands if they came close to you or our baby.”

“You can’t kill gods,” Aurora said, clenching her jaw. “They’ve tried to kill me so many times, Ares, if you don’t remember.” Suddenly, Aurora stood back up, her stare hardening into a menacing glare, and then she pulled down the front of her dress, enough for me to see the scars on her chest.

Fifteen.

At least.

In various stages of healing, the pink scars lined her skin across her chest, gathering near her heart. Had Hella and Nyx already tried to kill her multiple times? Why hadn’t the scars healed yet? Were they permanently on her skin?

“Do you remember these?” Aurora asked me with tears in her eyes. She brushed her fingers over a huge circular scar in the center of her chest. “This one was with Hella’s magic, only a couple moments after you left for war.”

She moved to an inch-long scar toward the left that looked like it had been caused by an arrow. “This one was when I traveled with you to help fight in the war against the Trojans. You fought man after man while Hella pierced me with one of the Trojans’ arrows.”

Then, her fingers grazed against the scar right over her heart. “And this … you must remember this one, Ares.”

Swallowing hard, I nodded. “That was the wound I couldn’t protect you from.”

A tear slid down Aurora’s cheek. She crouched back down in the pile of rogues and lay back, her head on one of their bellies and her frown quivering. “I don’t blame you for not being able to protect me. Hella was resourceful and used your spear against you, but … I …” She paused for a long time. “If we had a baby, we’d need to protect her, too. I might be able to survive a divine attack, but a baby wouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, balling my hands into fists.

I wasn’t f*****g good enough to protect her. I’d f*****g let Hella hurt her.

It was my fault. My f*****g fault.

I wasn’t good enough or fast enough or strong enough.

“I’m so sorry, Aurora.”

“Aurora?” she asked, glaring up at me with wide, rageful eyes. “Who’s Aurora?”

“You,” I whispered.

“I’m not Aurora, Ares. I’m Dawn.”

“Mars.” Aurora sat in a field of moonflowers with her hand resting on her swollen belly and glanced at me with those colorful eyes shifting between pink, orange, and yellow. “Come here. Feel our daughter kick.”

Covered in the taste of war, I walked out from the woods and through the field. The flowers twinkled against my shins, creating a wave of light in the darkest of the night. A couple of rogue wolves sat by Aurora’s side, resting their snouts against her thighs. When I approached, they parted to make a path for me.

I knelt by her side and ran my fingers across her stomach. Aurora placed her hand over mine and guided it toward the top of her belly; her flushed cheeks rounded. Our baby kicked my hand with her small feet, and I held back my tears.

This was actually happening.

We were really having a baby after thousands of years.

“Did you feel that?” Aurora asked.

“Our girl,” I whispered.

“You know, we need to pick out a name,” she said, puckering her lips and wanting a kiss.

After kissing her, I sat by her side and stared up at the stars decorating the night. “I’ve been thinking about a few. What about—”

Before I could get a word out, a branch snapped in the woods about a mile away. The rogues lifted their heads and stared in the southeast direction, baring their saliva-covered canines. I stood in front of Aurora with my head held high.

I would do anything to protect Aurora and my baby.

Anything.

Shooting through the air, an arrow whizzed right by me, grazing me against the cheek and drawing blood. I growled at the forest, feeling the power swell through my body, and beckoned my inner beast.

Anything for Aurora.

Another arrow whizzed by, hitting me in the right bicep, and then another pierced through my right thigh.

I narrowed my eyes, vision enhancing, and stared at Hella from across the forest, shooting arrows at us with that vile expression written all over her old, ugly face. Balling my hands into fists, I watched the last of her arrows shoot through the air, aimed at nothing other than Aurora’s swollen belly.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Aurora screamed and held her arms over her stomach. I reached out at just the last moment and grabbed the arrow right in the air, millimeters before it made contact with her.

Heart racing, I snapped the arrow into two pieces, grabbed my spear near the edge of the woods, aimed it at Hella, and launched it faster than I had ever thrown a spear. “Nobody hurts my family.”

Two big pink, orange, and yellow eyes stared up at me, the colors dancing in the early morning sunlight. In the field of moonflowers, I lay on my back and held my daughter in the air above me, listening to a giggle escape her toothless mouth. Our baby gently grasped my thumb in her tiny palm and squeezed harder than any baby I had held.

She would be stronger than both Aurora and me one day. I didn’t doubt it.

While she babbled to me, a wad of spit dripped out of her mouth and landed with a splat on my cheek. A chuckle rolled through my chest, and she giggled, too, her eyes scrunching up the way Aurora’s did, and her little body rumbling.

Rogue wolves walked out through the forest and into the field at the sound of her voice. One sat down beside us and stared up at me through wide black eyes, as if to ask if he could see her. I sat up and placed our baby on the ground beside him.

She crawled over to him and collapsed against his fur, her head on his abdomen and her tiny fingers reaching out to touch his snout. He licked her fingers, and she let out another heartwarming giggle.

I stared down at our girl, a warmth spreading throughout my chest.

Thank the gods that Mars had convinced Aurora to have a child.

This was the best damn thing to happen to me.

Drawing her finger across his canine tooth, she grasped it in her hand and widened her colorful eyes, fascinated with him, just like her mother was. More rogues approached from the woods from the south, followed by Aurora.

“Someone’s having fun,” she said, grinning at us with her long brown hair blowing in her face. She walked over and picked up our daughter, rocking her in her arms.

Our baby wrapped her arms around Aurora’s shoulders and rested her head right over Aurora’s heart.

I smiled at my two girls, nothing but pride and happiness rushing through me.

These girls were my—

Suddenly, a spear—one of my old spears—flew through the air, spiraling toward Aurora. I shot up from the moonflower field and lunged at Aurora to push her out of the way, but the pike thrust through her heart and straight through our baby.

Aurora collapsed almost immediately, her eyes wide and blood pouring out of her wound. I fell to my knees and shook my head from side to side.

“No! No. No. No. No. No. No. No!” I shouted.

“The baby,” Aurora said, voice hoarse. “Help the baby.”

But our once-smiling baby girl was now … nothing but a corpse.

“No!” I screamed, tears flowing down my cheeks. “No!”

Aurora stared up at me through watery eyes, not moving any part of her body, not even her head enough to see our child lying dead in her arms. “How is she?” Aurora asked. “I can’t move. Is she okay?”

Mars had easily protected Aurora and our child many times. Hella had attacked me once with my own spear, and I couldn’t f*****g save my own family. I was a failure, a f*****g failure as a father and as a mate.

Aurora would never forgive me for this.

I would fail to be a good father in every lifetime.

“Ares,” Aurora said, “answer me.”

After brushing some hair off her sweaty forehead, I sobbed. “She’s dead, Aurora. Dead.”