Velvet Storms

Thank you so much for such a lovely birthday gift, L - Kendaa

The wind howled, the rain lashed down, thunder and lightening exploded across the sky. It should have been a beautiful sunrise; instead, there was a furious raging tempest of a storm.

Kendaa, tall, lithe, blond, her sea-foam eyes clouded over, scanned the landscape looking for shelter. She had chosen to camp out alone overnight in the woods. She felt a need to be close to her dryad roots. Why she had been impelled to do this, at this particular time, she wasn't sure. But she had.

The night had passed pleasantly, if lonely enough. She had lain on her back for hours, staring up at the black velvet sky with thousands of crystalline stars twinkling down at her. She had picked out the various constellations she recognized and thought of all the stories she knew. She had wondered briefly if the gods had really placed Orion and Andromeda there. Although they were all powerful, could they really do that?

She had spared a thought too, for her Amazon sisters. They would probably be very annoyed with her for not being in her bed that morning. Still, she just couldn't make herself look forward to the day. Not when she knew he would most likely ignore it. Her anger at him and at herself was powerful. He could be the most frustrating, maddening man! How he could have expected her to ignore his latest foray into troublemaking expected her not to want to chide him, not to be upset, still rankled. As she thought about him, she felt the rage bubble up inside her and warm her briefly. But worst of all, she knew if he did show up, she would forget her anger with one look in his eyes, one caress of his hand, one kiss from his lips. This was why she was so angry with herself.

With the storm raging around her, nearly blinding her with it's fury, she continued to search for shelter. At last, about twenty-five feet away, her eyes spotted a cave. She sighed as she made her way to it, knowing she would be even more soaked by the time she arrived.

She entered the cave, shaking the water off. It was dark in there, darker than the outside world even with the fury of the storm. She reached into her pouch feeling for a match.

She found one and scraped it against the wall of rock. The flame caught and she could see the cave was large and looked clean as if no man or animal had been there.

She shivered from the cold and damp and felt the match burn down to her fingertip. She gave a small yelp of pain and shivered again.

"You look like you could use a fire," a deep disembodied voice said.

Damn him! So he had decided to show up after all. She said nothing. Still too angry to accept anything from him.

Suddenly a roaring fire appeared in the middle of the cave. The orange blue flames glowed with welcoming warmth. The colors were beautiful, god fire this time in addition to the wood. She could feel, even from this far away, the heat it generated. She longed to rush to the fire, to stand close to it and let the warmth fill her soul. But the thought of the fire was too much like the thought of him. He was a dangerous heat, beautiful to look at, deadly if you got too close.

She sighed and shivered again. She was soaked through. The air around her was cold, she could see her breath as she exhaled.

"It won't help matters," the voice said, "if you freeze to death. I know you're angry, but since when have you let your emotions keep you from surviving?"

Damn him again for being right. "Show yourself," she retorted as she finally walked to the fire. "I hate it when you do that."

She heard his chuckle and as she stood in front of the fire, her most treasured love and often greatest enemy confronted her from the other side.

Ares, God of War, slowly materialized. Tall, dark and handsome would be his description she mused if one were to try to describe him to someone who had never seen him. He had even used that description himself. But the words didn't begin to do him justice. Yes, he was tall, very tall. And his skin did seem almost dark, with a permanent golden tone to it. His coloring was dark as well, thick black hair that fell softly to his shoulders, curling on the ends. Beautiful dark eyes that could sparkle with mirth or terrorize you with menace. He was wearing a thick goatee as well these days. Handsome, now there was a mediocre word if there ever was one when it came to him. His face, at once angelic and demonic, was also feminine and masculine. It was his mouth that caused the problem; he had the most sensual mouth she had ever seen, almost feminine in look. As for the rest of him, well, he was, after all, a god. No mortal could ever have a body like that. Lean and hard, his arms were huge, powerfully corded with muscle, but not too big for his body. His chest was massive, covered softly with dark hair, his pecs firm and perfectly formed. His abdomen was flat and hard, again covered with lovely dark hair inciting the looker to explore further. He was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous male creature on earth. Why then, did he have to be such a bastard?

She wondered, not for the first time, how the two of them could continue like this. The passion seemed inexhaustible, the desire overwhelming, but still, for all that, they were so different. Their ideals, their morals, even their futures could never be as conjoined as their bodies could be. She sighed again and warmed her hands over the fire.

She studied him across the flames and wondered what those lovely eyes of his were seeing as he studied her. All she could see of him now was his face. The rest of him was covered in a long black velvet cloak, his body completely hidden beneath it. As she watched him, he pushed the hood back and grinned at her.

His grin was wicked and seductive, his eyes were clearly speculating as to what it would take to seduce her. As if! He seduced her with just his presence, though she doubted he knew or believed that. Damn him again. As he stood there grinning at her, she felt her anger begin to dissipate as desire began to overwhelm her. She shivered again but this time it was not from the cold.

He moved toward her like a big cat, his body effortlessly crossing the distance between them. "You're still cold," he murmured. "You should get out of those wet clothes," he added consideringly as he studied her. "You'll catch your death."

"Ha!" she snorted. "You are so transparent."

He raised his eyebrows and feigned innocence. "Me? Kendaa, you look like a drowned rat, a lovely rat as always, but not exactly the woman of my erotic imagination."

She turned from him her anger flaring, suddenly embarrassed. How dare he insult her and today of all days!

"I'll be happy to turn my back and give you the cloak if you'll just stop being stubborn and think with that intelligent mind of yours for a moment. If I wanted you naked and in bed, as your suspicious mind suggests, you'd already be there." He paused and added softly, "So why not just listen to me for once?"

"You being altruistic doesn't suit you, Ares. I'm supposed to believe you have NO ulterior motive in having me undress?"

"It's all in that lovely head of yours. Here I am, trying to be kind and this is the thanks I get." He shook his head, his sword earring dancing in the light of the fire. "I'll tell you what, I'll leave my cloak and go. You can do whatever in Tartarus you want."

"Wait," the word came out as a hoarse whisper.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"Don't go." She dropped the words softly from her lips, like stones skipping along a lake. The image of him teaching her to do that, in one of their rare, carefree moments cascaded through her consciousness like an unbidden thought. He could be so . . . and yet!

She turned back to him to study his face. He was looking at her almost expectantly, his eyes searching hers. What was going through his mind?

He grinned at her again and asked softly, "Shall I turn?" His eyes raked her form and despite his earlier insult, she could still see the speculation and the desire.

She shrugged and began to unceremoniously take off her wet clothing. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her undressed before. Within seconds, she was naked and shivering.

Slowly Ares removed his cloak. He went behind her, lifted her hair, gently caressing the soft skin at the nape of her neck and laid the velvet cloak across her shoulders. Then he draped it around her so that she was completely covered in the soft material. Finally, he stepped away from her, once again moving to where they faced each other across the fire.

She fastened the cloak with the hook at the neck and luxuriated in the softness of the material. As she breathed, she inhaled the strong scent, male, leather and hormones that permeated the cloak.

"Better?" he asked. He raised his eyebrows and eyed her critically. "It looks good on you."

She gave him a knowing look and asked, "Why are you here?"

"Why not?" he shrugged.

She eyed him. Now that she had his cloak, she could see he was not attired in his usual black leather. Instead, he seemed to be wearing some kind of brown leather pants and a white silken shirt. The shirt was open at the neck, showing a vast quantity of the dark hair on the base of his throat. She could see the sword pendant that matched his earring sparking in the fire as it lay against his chest. His sword was by his side and one of his hands rested on the hilt. "What's this outfit about?" she asked curiously.

"This?" he gestured at himself. "Wasn't in the mood for leather this morning," he answered with a wry grin. "Felt like a change."

"Hmmm," she murmured. His eyes were still searching her face as if he was looking for something he hadn't yet found. As she studied the curves of his handsome face, a wave of desire washed over her. She turned from him and the fire and went to sit on a nearby rock.

He joined her, careful to keep a distance between them. "Why are you so angry with me?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

"Well," he said as he raised his expressive eyebrows yet again, "hope springs eternal. But what exactly did you find out?"

"You've been encouraging the Estonians to fight," she spat. "And you know very well we've been trying to negotiate a peace for weeks."

He laughed softly. "It's my job, Kendaa. You know that. Why does it always make you so angry when you catch," he used his fingers to put quote marks around the word catch, "me doing it?"

She had no answer for him. The dichotomy of him and their relationship was suddenly overwhelming. Almost unbidden a lone tear began to travel down her cheek.

He reached out a gentle finger to wipe it away.

She marveled at how a god so evil could be so gentle. She felt another tear slip from her eyes and felt his finger again move across her skin. His touch was inflaming her senses. She knew she would give in. It was inevitable. And she was beginning to hate herself for it.

"You and I," he said as he thoughtfully stared at the fire, "are like fire and water. We don't mix well, and yet when we come together there is often an explosion. I can't help being who and what I am, anymore than you can. This constant fighting, this push me pull you between us gets us nowhere. If I make you so miserable perhaps we should stop."

Did he make her miserable? Sometimes he did. But there was great joy as well. She felt completely alive in his arms. She turned her head to study his face.

His eyes were dark, almost unreadable, but in their depths, she thought she saw strong emotion, almost, could that be fear? Was he afraid of losing her? Had he made this offer to test her? That would be just like him to play with her emotions. "Ares," she said tentatively, "just why are you here?"

"It's your birthday," he whispered hoarsely. "Did you think I'd forgotten?'

She gulped. He had remembered after all. "I didn't . . . " she swallowed again.

He grinned at her; his fingers caressed her cheek lightly. "I couldn't let the day pass without marking it somehow."

"The day's barely started," she muttered.

As if he read her mind he added, "I went to the Village. There was supposed to be a party, but you weren't there. They asked me to find you, make sure you were all right. No one seemed to know just where you'd gone off to or why."

"I wanted to be alone," she grumbled.

"Then I guess I should leave," he replied. He rose from the rock and looked down at her, "Unless?"

She rose in one fluid moment to stand in front of him. Looking at him standing there, she had a blinding insight. Though he couldn't say it, his need for her was as great as hers was for him. Though he wouldn't say it, he was as bothered by the situation as she was. But most of all, where she was concerned, he saw his feelings as a weakness, a weakness that had no answer. A weakness he hated in himself as much as she hated it in herself.

As she looked at the God of War, she saw his eyes go soft with emotion and then spark with hunger. Hunger for her. She pushed the cloak off her shoulders allowing it to frame her resplendent nakedness. She opened her arms to him, offering herself and said, "You'd leave without even giving me a birthday kiss?"

Ares laughed. His eyes again raked her form, the hunger exploding from him. She could almost feel his body temperature rise, feel the heat coming off his body in waves. He bent his dark head and lightly brushed her lips with his own. "Happy birthday," he murmured his voice husky with passion. Then he jerked his head back and stared at her, his eyes searching hers.

She had no words for him, only emotion. She reached out, tangled her fingers in his thick hair and pulled his mouth back to hers. She pressed her lips to his. She felt him pull the soft cloak around them, and then his arms encircled her beneath it, his fingers hot against her skin. She melted against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the fire of his passion as he returned her kiss.