OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3

by Lisa Beth Darling

  “You’re not a baby anymore, Master Raven,” Onya replied. “You’re nearly a man.”

  “Not nearly,” Raven corrected, giving the mound of flesh beneath his hand one last caress before putting Rose to it and watching as Alena’s dead arm curled around the baby. “After tonight, none of you will be able to deny that I am a man.” He gazed at Onya over his shoulder. “You still belong to Ares even if you are fucking my Brother so perhaps, after I make Aphrodite scream with delight tonight, I’ll come back here and do the same for you.”

  “You wish,” Onya challenged.

  “I think you’d like it.” Raven turned back to his Sister who was nuzzling against her Mother with a mouthful of milk. He ran his hand over the back of her head and smiled down at her. Then Raven affixed his strange eyes to Onya’s and he grinned as he watched her blush and swallow hard even though she shook her head in protest. “I think I can make you cum so hard your head will spin and you’ll beg me for more.”

  Sitting there looking at Raven lounging across the bed with his smoky stormy eyes staring at her as though he were reading her min, his taut young body fresh from his workout with his pumped muscles standing out in a tantalizing display, it was hard for Onya to deny his attraction. It was animal, primal, like Ares’. Irresistible. Onya’s mouth began watering at the thought of Raven over her. He inherited many things from his Father, among them was that allure of animal magnetism. Now that he reached maturity Raven seemed to just exude raw sexuality, hunger, desire, and heat. Whenever he turned those eyes of his on her, Onya couldn’t look away and all she could think of was running her hands over that young rippling body. She wasn’t alone; the other women in the house felt the same way about Raven. “Dream on.”

  “Perhaps I won’t be dreaming much longer. Is Eros bringing you to the Bacchanalia tonight? Will you be there to help me celebrate becoming a man?”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “What a shame, we could have had so much fun,” Raven lamented falsely. “I’ll let Aphrodite tell you all about it tomorrow. Well, if she can walk, that is. I bet she’ll tell you about how Ares fucks her tonight, too. While you’re here watching over my half-dead Mother, perhaps me, Ares, and your sweet Eros will split the Lady of Love, huh? Give that old bitch a really good workout. How’s that sound?”

  “Disgusting,” Onya replied through tight lips, knowing that after tonight, after that hungry hulking beast between his legs got its first taste of conquest, there would be no stopping Raven from taking whatever else he wanted. Blessed with that lithe body and those hypnotic eyes, Raven would never have to take by force what he could so easily turn to putty in his hands, melt the most solid of icy reserve with his words, and turn any refusal into passion, set ablaze with a brush of his lips. Then again, being his Father’s Son, undoubtedly Raven would enjoy a little slap and tickle. He would revel in some heated wrestling in the sack as he pinned down his prey and sank into what he wanted even as she tried to fight him off with weakened arms.

  “Really? Then tell me, why is there so much lovely color in your cheeks, dear Onya? You think I don’t see the wanton glint in your eyes when you look at me? I may still be young but I’m not an idiot.” Raven smiled as he reached to the crotch of his faded Levis and gave his hardening cock a firm yank. “I think it’s you who wants to be sandwiched between Ares and me, isn’t it? What’s wrong, my Brother not curling your toes lately?”

  “So like your Father, arrogant and cocky,” Onya admonished even though her cheeks were growing hotter as wildfire began spreading through her body.

  “You forgot handsome and bold,” Raven chided as his smile turned to a knowing grin.

  Onya, without will of her own, suddenly found herself agreeing with the young man. “Those too.”

  “A little honesty is nice, how about we try some more? My Father isn’t quite as faithful and celibate as he’d like everyone to believe is he?” Raven dared. Onya’s only answer was to flinch and turn pale; that was enough for Raven. “I know Aphrodite’s right. My Father comes to your room in the middle of the long cold night.” Raven kept his strange eyes affixed to Onya’s and he grinned as he watched the paleness in her cheeks rush once more with vibrant color. Raven absently stroked the hair at the back of Rose’s head gently as he spoke in a soft hypnotic tone. “There are no secrets on Olympus. I know what you do for him. I know how you spread those firm legs of yours wide and pump your pussy with a dildo while Ares jerks off over you. I know that when he climaxes spewing a hot load all over your heaving tits, he whispers my Mother’s name. I suppose the only question is does Eros, my Brother, know what his wicked little vixen is up to with Lord Ares?”

  At Alena’s breast, Rose shivered, she jerked so hard it brought Raven’s attention to her as she looked up at her Brother with tired but wired eyes. “Shhhh, take a nap now, Rosie, so you can be ready for my party tonight. But you’ll have to leave before the festivities really get underway.”

  Rose’s sleepy watery eyes suddenly seemed brighter than the sun as she stared at him from the safety of the Alena’s breast. “N—no, no, Ray-Ray,” Rose muttered in a tone that was unusually clear, even with breast milk dribbling down her little chin. Around her, Alena’s arm moved to hold little Rose tighter and Rose moved as close to her Mother as she possibly could, almost as though she were in fear of her older Brother. Mouth to nipple, Rose’s welling eyes started spilling their contents down her chubby cheeks, flushed with crimson so deep she looked as though she’d been standing by a blazing hearth.

  Raven looked from the baby to his sleeping Mother only to see a steadily running river of tears silently rolling down Alena’s still cheeks from her open eyes. Raven wiped them away as his young heart began racing in his strong bare chest. Since she fell asleep, her eyes opened several times but always they gazed out at the world with an unseeing stare, nothing more than wide blank saucers. Not now. Raven swore he saw a glint of recognition in them. “Mom, can you hear me?” He grabbed for her icy hand, listening as a deep guttural sound escaped her throat. “Mom?” To him it sounded like a grunt of painful determination.

  Onya found the strength to rise from the rocking chair in the corner of the massive bedroom and walk to the bed where she gazed down at the crying Alena in growing astonishment. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know,” Raven muttered, still staring at his Mother. “Mom?”

  Alena’s eyes stayed open fixated straight ahead as they let go a tiny river of tears. She didn’t turn to look at him, she didn’t blink, but she did try to work her throat to no avail. So Rose answered for her, “Raay-van ma…ma… n-no,” Rose’s hand on Alena’s breast gripped harder as she fought to bring the word to her quivering little lips with much resolve. The words that were easy enough for any other four-year-old to say, caught in Rose’s throat as her crying turned to sobbing and she was overcome by her Mother’s flood of emotions. “Sah-uh-ddd. Ma-ma sad, no ‘ake, no par’tee. No. Raay-van. No.” Rose’s sobbing turned into an ear piercing wail.

  Onya reached for Alena’s hand only to find it icy as always and paper smooth. She watched the tears stream from her open eyes faster than Raven could wipe them away. “Lady? Alena?” Confusion taking over and pushing away the thoughts of hot forbidden sex with the Master’s Son, Onya turned to Raven. “What is going on?”

  “Go get my Father,” Raven hissed as he pulled his squirming crying Sister away from their Mother’s breast and put her on his hip. That made Rose cry harder as she reached to the bed with all she had, her little uneven feet digging into his toned side and hip while she stretched and struggled to get back to her Mother. Raven found his Sister was much stronger than he ever imagined as he fought with the weak little girl to get control of her. “Stop it! Rosie, stop it!”

  Rose’s little strawberry blonde head whipped around on her shoulders, her face gnarled, and she stared unblinkingly at Raven. “No par-tee. No s-s-sex!” Her little fist cocked back and before Raven knew it she landed a punch on his cheek
hard enough to make him stumble backwards a step. “Nach bhfuil tú sna Cluichí Oilimpeacha. Tá tú Fey. Scoirfidh an gealtachta”

  “Holy shit,” Raven muttered staring at his addled brained baby Sister in bewilderment as her declaration in perfect Gaelic rattled around in his head; You are not Olympian. You are Fey. Cease this madness.

  Onya gasped at the sounds of the strange words coming out of the little girl’s mouth. “What the hell is…”

  “Do it, you fucking bitch!” Raven’s booming voice commanded. “Get Ares!” Onya nearly flew out the door and down the stairs screaming for the Master of the House with every step while Raven stayed behind in the bedroom. He only had seconds before his Father appeared but Raven wanted to get something straight. “Listen to me you two, I am an Olympian.” His eyes shifted from his Mother still lying motionless on the bed to the little girl in his arms staring at him with a cold and familiar stare. If she could, Alena would be looking at him just the way Rose was doing seemingly on her behalf. “I’m going to prove it and you can’t stop me. Either one of you. You, Mother, you just stay asleep,” Raven shot through gritted teeth and then turned back to meet Rose’s glaring eyes. “And you, you just stay stupid, you got that? Everything will be fine.”

  Rose’s expression on her droopy determined face didn’t change as she cocked her head fully backward causing Raven to believe she was going to head-butt him but instead on the forward swing, she spat in his face. “N-ot stuuu-pad.”

  Before Raven could contemplate the consequences of driving his fist into Rose’s dopey face, Ares burst into the room with Hunter close behind. The God of War grabbed the baby out of Raven’s arms. “What is happening?” Ares pushed Raven out of the way so he could sit on the bed next to his weeping Wife and hold his fussing Daughter who was starting to calm down now that she had her face buried in her Father’s neck. “Alena?”

  “She’s not awake,” Raven stammered, “I don’t know what the hell just happened but she was crying and Rose was, she was…”

  “Speaking in tongues,” Onya finished for him.

  Ares pulled the little girl away from his body to get a look at her, “Eímai o Patéras sou, o Ári̱s. Poios eísai esý ?” (I am your Father, Ares. Who are you?) He waited and waited for her to reply as he stared deeply into her hazy eyes.

  “Not tongues, you idiot,” Raven admonished, “not Greek either, it was Gaelic.” Better to confess to all that was happening and to all that Onya heard—even if it was mistakenly—than try to hide this big bubbling truth with an even bigger lie.

  Ares’ Gaelic was more than a little rusty but he gave it a shot. “Tá mé Ares do Athair. Cé go bhfuil tú?”

  Rose sat there on his lap her eyes bright but beginning to grow hazy. Just when he felt certain she wasn’t going to answer him, Rose wiped a little fist across those bleary eyes and uttered, “Ar feadh thart ar Rose.” (I am Rose.)

  Ares felt his huge fluttering heart freeze in his chest as his dark eyes wandered to Alena so still on the bed, her eyes wide as they stared at the wall across the room through their veil of tears. Rose struggled with English and Ares always thought Greek out of her grasp but here she was with Gaelic flowing off her tongue like a lazy river winding its way down hill. He knew it had to be Alena’s doing but needed to be sure. “Cé a bhfuil tú ag labhairt ar a son?” (Who do you speak for?)

  “Labhairt liom do Alena. Do mo mháthair.” (I speak for Alena. For my mother.)

  “Yes, you do,” Ares nodded his head in amazement as he looked from his Daughter with the droopy face to his Wife knowing that with the use of some type of Fey Magick, Alena had been able to establish a connection to the outside world through Rose. After four long lonely years of silence, Ares finally knew that Alena was in there, she could hear him. After years of living in utterly maddening uncertainty he now knew that Alena understood what was going on around her and she was even trying to influence it. If she desired to do all of those things then maybe she wanted to come back to him. Maybe she could even forgive him for his many transgressions and they could start over. “What does your Mother have to say to me? Tell me everything, don’t be afraid.”

  “This is not happening,” Raven muttered.

  Ares head lolled backward on his brawny shoulder to look at his Son with smoldering eyes. When he spoke his voice remained cold and smooth as ice. “What’s wrong boy? Does your Mother have something important to tell me? Something you’ve been hiding?” Tearing his eyes away from his Son he turned back to his Wife with urgency. “Alena, did he push you? Did he? Did Raven shove you down the stairs that night?”

  Sitting on her Father’s lap, Rose reached a little hand toward her Mother and settled it on Alena’s breast as she turned to Ares to put the other hand in the soft patch of thick fur over his heart. Her little brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed on Ares until they were nothing but slits. The thoughts in her Mother’s comatose mind bubbled to the surface, not in words, but in swiftly moving pictures that fled from Alena through Rose and into Ares’ heart where they shook his sturdy frame as they raced to his head.

  A raven in flight soaring high in the blue summer sky, laughing and cawing as its shimmering black wings caught glints of sunlight tossing shades of blue and purple around it like an aura. The image, so clear in Ares’ mind, he could almost smell the crisp scent of the sundrenched air, feel the breeze tickling the hairs on his olive skin as the picture lingered in his mind.

  As though the raven in flight were Icarus it flew higher and higher toward the bright golden sun, its strong wings flapping with the delight of freedom. As the bird reached its crescendo in near bliss, suddenly it pitched downward in a death spiral. Plummeting faster and faster toward the Earth below as it spun around uncontrollably. Ares felt it so acutely that his entire body grew rigid as his mind tried to prepare him for the coming impact. The bird just kept on spinning and falling, spinning and falling, spinning and falling, until Ares felt nauseous and he could no longer tell up from down. Spinning round and round in the endless blue sky other images began appearing in the twirling blur of his mind and his blurry sight.

  Feeling like Alice fallen down the Rabbit Hole caught in a never ending descent, Ares saw the top of the black marble staircase spin around and past him. He heard Alena and Raven arguing but couldn’t make out the words. For a moment he thought he felt a hand near his throat and then something was yanked from him, ripped away, leaving the back of his neck sore enough for him to want to rub it as he sat there with thoughts not his own coursing through him.

  For the briefest instant, the image of a huge weeping willow on the banks of river flashed behind his wide confused eyes. Just as he thought he was about to feel the warmth of the sun’s ray, the God of War felt cold, frozen in a block of ice that gripped him with something he’d never known before: Terror. Pure, icy, terror so real and alive that it threatened to freeze the ichor in his veins even as it ripped the beating heart out of his chest.

  Then he was falling again but not from the sky to the Earth. Out of control he tumbled down the staircase end over end. The loud crunch of his bones in his head, his back, his shoulders echoed in his head as they resounded in his brawny frame. In his mind, Ares hit every unyielding step so hard as to bruise even a God.

  It was over, the images fled back and away from him, Ares sat there with his breath caught in his chest, his mouth open, and his eyes staring down at his tiny Daughter and his sleeping Wife. That sickening sensation of fear and falling lingered, it didn’t depart with the images and neither did the wintriness that settled into his frame, making his bones feel old and brittle.

  Rose took her hand away from his chest and rubbed her eyes, “Uimh bhrú.” (No push.)

  “I told you,” Raven hissed in victory. “I didn’t push her.” Although he couldn’t see the images transferred from his Mother to his Sister to his Father, Raven felt the electricity prickling in the air. It was so sharp and alive it made the hair on his arms and neck stand up straight. When he heard
the words his Sister spoke on his Mother’s behalf, Raven knew Ares would have no choice but to believe him now. He would have to be silent and put his suspicions aside.

  Ares’ head began rolling on his squared shoulders toward Raven, his mouth opened to begin reading the boy the riot act but he was stopped by Rose’s chilly hands firmly planted on his cheeks turning him back to stare directly into her (Mother’s) sad yet determined eyes. When she spoke again, she did so slowly and deliberately, “Uimh Bacchanalia. Uimh trialacha. Níl sna Cluichí Oilimpeacha. Fey. Stad a chur leis sula bhfuil sé ró-mhall.” (No Bacchanalia. No trials. No Olympian. Fey. Stop him before it’s too late.) Rose shook her head as her gray eyes started filling with tears once more.

  Bringing Rose in closer to him so that she was cradled between his arm and his chest, he leaned down toward his Wife and whispered to her with renewed hope that his words would reach her. “It’s his birthright and his decision, Alena, I can’t stop him.” More tears trickled down her cheek and her limp body shook at it let out a long sigh that brought a sad smile to his lips. While it encased his heart in sorrow, it was further proof that she could hear him. “I know you don’t want this but it’s not up to us. It’s all up to Raven now.” His warm hand brushed away a glistening tear from her icy cheek. Even as Ares’ head whipped around to look up at Raven again, his jaw set tight he let out a long growl that echoed with rage through the Fortress. “Are you listening?”

  Raven shook his head. “I’m doin’ it. I don’t care what she says.”

  “You never did,” Ares hissed through sharp gritted teeth.

  “Cabhrú liom.” (Help me.) It was nothing more than a whispered prayer. “Cabhrú liom stad a chur leis.” (Help me stop him.)

  The quiet urgency in her plea brought Ares’ head slowly back to her, his eyes narrowing as the Ichor in his veins turned to ice water, as it rushed with the thought she wasn’t talking about their beloved Son any longer. In a voice that was fading fast, she was talking about herself. “Cad atá ag tarlú anseo?” (What is happening here?)