Chapter 19 - Ares

19

Ares

The old guy behind the bar had been right. Just by looking at me, he could tell that I’m a fighter. It’s what I’ve done all my life — scrapping in the schoolyard, my anger burning inside me like a fire. It’s what I do for the Wastelanders, although they’ve taught me to be calculated, how to rein in that anger until just the right moment. But this? Fighting here, in this shitty, small town fight club, it’s a chance to finally let that anger out. Let it breathe.

Beating this guy feels good. With every bone-quaking blow I deliver, I imagine that it’s Sheriff Jackson on the receiving end. I imagine that I’m caving in his face, making him bleed, doling out justice for what he’s done to Delaney.

The guy goes down hard and the explosion of the crowd brings me back to reality. To this dim, sweat-fogged room. I saunter to the edge of the ring, taking deep breaths to stretch my chest, and mentally check myself for injuries. The adrenaline in my veins is too thick and potent for me to notice any pain.

Hands land on my sweaty back — heavy pats of congratulations. Not everyone is happy, though. Half the crowd wants me dead, the other half — the ones that bet on the mysterious newcomer — want to hoist me on their shoulders and celebrate the money they’ve just made. I just want to get back to the motel room. Back to Delaney. I hated leaving her. Maybe I should have explained what I was doing, but then she’d have wanted to tag along, and there’s no way that was fucking happening. I couldn’t bring her here, down to this shithole. She deserves better than that.

Then, across the ring: spots of yellow flowers on a white dress, a halo of curls, two shimmering green eyes.

I blink and scrub a hand over my eyes like it’ll clear away the hallucination, but it’s her.

“What the fuck?” I yell across the ring. She holds up a hand. An innocent little wave.

Hands. There are hands on her. Slithering over her shoulders, pulling her back into the crowd. Her mouth drops open in shock and she struggles against the guy who’s far too drunk to care about her no. Then, like she’s being swallowed beneath roaring ocean waves, she’s gone.

I ignore the next bout that’s starting, tearing through the middle of the ring. I plunge into the crowd, sending shocked, drunken patrons scattering.

“Delaney!”

I can’t see her. Can’t find her. My heart is loud and sharp in my chest.

There! Another flash of yellow and white. That little fucking dress. I growl and surge forward, swatting people aside. I break through to the back of the room, just in time to see Delaney jab her sharp fist into some guy’s nose. His shriek is covered by a burst of noise from the crowd — the next fight already underway — and he rocks back, blood spritzing from between his fingers as he clutches at his face. I twist my fists in his shirt and slam him against the wall. His skull makes a sharp crack and he howls again.

“Fuckin’ ‘itch! B’oke mah noz!”

Delaney pops up at my side. Light glints off the switchblade in her hand. “How about I cut your dick off? That’ll make the nose pretty inconsequential, huh?”

The guy sneers, his teeth stained red. “You’re done,” he says. “You’re both out of the room tonight or I’m calling the cops.”

I recognize him now: the creep from the front desk at the motel. Something dark and vengeful slithers around my heart. I could just kill him. He deserves it. For touching Delaney, for putting his filthy hands on her. Then she’d be safe from him.

I lean closer, flashing my teeth in a snarl. “Can’t call the pigs if you’re dead.”

Beside me, Delaney stills. “Ares…,” she says warningly.

“Okay, okay,” the motel clerk stutters. “I won’t call the cops, okay? I won’t. Just leave and I won’t call ‘em. I swear!”

I move in, close enough that I can smell fresh blood and cheap beer on his breath. He shudders, terrified.

“Liar.”

“Ares, come on,” Delaney hisses. She touches my arm, her nails digging in. My skin twitches under that little spark of pain and I tilt my head to look at her.

“He’s not worth it,” she says quietly.

But you are , a voice in my head replies.

I untangle myself from the guy’s shirt and push off him. A flash of silver catches my eye — the switchblade dangles limply in Delaney’s hand. I growl under my breath and snatch her wrist, prying the blade from her.

“Give me that,” I snap, as she squeaks an indignant, “Hey!”

I fold down the blade with a smooth movement and tuck it in my back pocket.

“Let’s go,” I bark at her. With my fingers wrapped tight around her wrist, I drag her to the stairs. The motel creep staggers forward and hocks a glob of congealing blood onto the floor.

“Don’t want no frigid pussy anyway! Little bitch!”

I move too fast for him to react. One moment, I’m walking away from him, the next I have the switchblade flicked open and I’m slashing a line across his face.

He howls, blood cascading from the slice through his bottom lip.

“Next time it’ll be your fucking tongue.”

***

The gravel of the bar’s parking lot bites into my bare feet. I barely flinch. All I feel is Delaney’s wrist in my hand and the swishing of her dress against my jeans as she tries to keep up with me.

“Wait! Just— Ares, wait!”

“For what?” I bark, ignoring her attempts to slow us down. “You want to wait around? Because that asshole’s definitely calling the cops now.”

“No, I just… For God’s sake, will you stop!” She puts on the brakes, her sneakers skidding on the gravel.

I stop, because the next stage of her protest is probably throwing herself on the ground and the last thing we need is somebody calling the police because they see an angry, shirtless man dragging a struggling girl in a pretty dress along the ground in the middle of the night.

She makes everything worse.

I feel sick that I could even think that, but it’s partly true. She’s the reason my hometown looks at me like a pervert and a creep.

My grip loosens and she slips free, absentmindedly rubbing at her wrist.

I hurt her.

Despair floods me and I drop my chin to my chest, pulling a long breath in through my nose. All I do is hurt people. It’s the only thing I’m good at.

“Thank you for saving me. He just grabbed me and I froze and then you appeared and it was… Just, thanks, okay?”

I take another breath and lift my head. Her eyes are big, lashes fluttering like she’s trying not to cry. God, he really scared her. Or maybe I did?

“You seemed to be doing okay,” I say with a shrug. “Threatening to cut his dick off?”

Her lip quirks. “Adding my own flair to your self-defense lesson.”

I snort and turn away. The haze of adrenaline is clearing now, leaving me wondering what the hell we’re going to do. If Griff were here, if Reaper were here, they’d tell me that this is the perfect opportunity to walk away. Delaney is a magnet for trouble, and the Wastelanders don’t need any more of that.

“So, what do we do now? We can’t stay at the motel.”

“Hell if I know,” I huff. My body is starting to ache now, a bone-deep tiredness that’s going to be impossible to shake if I keep going like this.

“Hey!”

My body reacts faster than my brain and I grab Delaney again, yanking her behind me. I whip around to the approaching figure.

It’s Oscar. He pulls up a few yards away, one hand raised, the other clutching my boots and my shirt.

“Whoa, man,” he says on an awkward chuckle. “I just wanted to catch you before you disappeared. Saw you run outta there without your stuff.”

He sets the boots down and he digs something else out of his back pocket. A folded stack of bills. “Here’s your cut. I threw in a little extra, an incentive to come back next week.”

I hesitate, then snatch my payment and my shirt, giving him a curt nod. Oscar’s eyes flick to Delaney for a moment. It’s a moment too long, in my opinion, and it makes my lip twitch into a snarl. Oscar clocks it.

“You two got somewhere to stay tonight?” he asks, surprising me.

“We’re good,” I reply, just as Delaney edges forward, saying “Actually, no.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. He considers something, his body swinging back to the bar like he’s considering just going back inside and forgetting all about us. He scratches at his stubbled chin.

“I don’t know your situation. Don’t want to know, truthfully, but you seem like good kids. The bar has a room around back. Used to be a studio apartment, all done up for AirBB or whatever it’s called, but the wiring’s all screwed up, so the power’s spotty, so we never… Anyway, safe place to stay for the night.”

A new hiding place, dropped right in our laps. Do I trust Oscar enough to take him up on this? He did bring me my cut instead of just pocketing it, but if motel douche does call the cops, we’ll be right across the street when they show up, which isn’t much safer than being out in the open.

Delaney presses closer, the length of her arm warming mine.

“Thank you, we appreciate it,” she says.

I guess that’s it, then. Oscar nods once. “Up the stairs ‘round back. Key’s above the door.”

A moment later, he’s gone, the door to the bar swinging closed behind him. We’re alone again and I still have Delaney’s delicate wrist in my hand. I can feel her pulse racing; her rabbit-heart making music against my skin. Everything else is still, the music from the bar the only thing breaching the night air.

She sways a little on her feet and I look down at her, finally getting a good look at her eyes. They’re unfocused and glassy. How the fuck did she get drunk?

“Come on.”

I grab my boots and drag Delaney around the corner of the building. There’s a dumpster against the brick wall, and behind that, a set of wooden stairs hidden in shadow.

I drop her hand and shove my feet into my boots.

“The fuck are you doing here, anyway?” I mumble. I prop my foot on the wall and tie up the laces. I hear Delaney shift nervously behind me.

“Me? What about you— You and, and— all this !”

I turn around to find her waving her hand at me, as if that explains what she’s trying to say. I look down, my chest is speckled with blood that’s not mine. I press my lips into a tight line and quickly yank on my t-shirt. It sticks uncomfortably to my clammy skin.

“I was getting us cash. I told you to stay in the room. Why don’t you ever fucking listen?”

“I thought—” Her mouth slams closed.

“Thought what?”

“Nothing, never mind,” she mumbles. She hugs her arms around herself. Anger flares in me.

“Never mind?” I bark, taking a long stride towards her. Her eyes flick up to mine, flashing wide. “Are you kidding me right now? I told you to stay put, and instead I see you getting pawed at by some asshole.”

“I… I was handling it.”

I snort and look away, the anger inside turning into something possessive. “I should’ve ripped his throat out,” I mutter darkly.

“Why?”

Her question catches me off guard. Simple and innocent. I look back at her, to her eyes softening, her lips parting. The night around us is hot, making it hard to breath. I suck air through my teeth.

“Because he touched you. Nobody’s allowed to touch you.”

Her lip trembles and her throat bobs with a nervous swallow. “I thought you might be with Shan.”

“Who?”

“The waitress. From earlier.”

“Why the hell would you think that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Clearly.” She pauses. Chews on her lip. God, I need her to stop doing that. Her bottom lip is plump and rosy. It shines with her spit as it pops loose from between her teeth. “How much did you get?”

It takes me a second to understand her question, but I can’t focus. I still haven’t gotten what I want from my own question and it buzzes in my head, an insect going around and around.

“Why would you care?”

“About what?”

“If I was with some fucking waitress,” I snap.

She swallows again. Her tits rise and fall, practically busting out of that dress. That fucking Little Miss County Fair dress. I want to bend her over in that dress. I want to do fucking filthy things to her in that dress.

But I can’t. Goddamnit, I can’t. Even my own mind recoils in horror at the things I’m imagining. I can’t do any of that with her, no matter how much my caveman-self wants to. I take a step forward. My hands find her arms. Hold her tight. A little shake and she squeaks in surprise.

“Answer me.”

I’m playing with fire, but I can’t stop myself. This is different kind of fight to the one in the basement, one I’m losing. Delaney takes a shuddering breath.

“B-because I was j-jealous. Of the way you looked at her.”

“And how did I look at her?”

“Like you wanted her. I want…”

Her tongue flicks out, wetting her bottom lip to make it shiny again. My fingers dig into her flesh. I’m probably getting blood on her, I can smell it in the air.

“Say it.”

“I want you to look at me like that. I want you to want me.”

It happens too fast. Like a freak wave slamming into the shore. I crush my mouth against hers, greedy and desperate. Her lips part and a soft, needy whine drifts to my ears, making my dick pulse. I sweep my tongue across her lips and she welcomes me in, her head lolling back. I sweep one hand up her arm, across her shoulder, and tangle it in her hair at the back of her neck, gripping her firmly and holding her in place. I can’t stop. Don’t want to ever, ever stop.

Next thing I know, I spin her around and I push her up against the wall. She moans into my mouth and rocks forward, her body lining up with my own. I buck my hips, grinding my cock against her stomach. She whimpers, her body shuddering all over.

“Ares,” she sighs. It’s a sweet sound. Innocent .

My eyes fly open and it’s over as quickly as it started. I spring back, horror slamming into me. My eyes dart over her face to assess the damage.

“Fuck, Delaney. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I think I mumble it a few more times. She just blinks at me, eyes glassy. Her lips are puffy and wet from my mouth.

I wonder if her lips look like that after she’s been sucking cock.

I rear back and drag my hands through my hair, tugging at the ends and gripping tight, like I want to tear the thoughts right out of my head.

She’s drunk. She’s fucking drunk and I… I still want to kiss her, touch her, watch her break under me.

I’m a piece of shit.

Whatever cloud she’s standing in clears and Delaney straightens up. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I need to fix this. I need to fix it before she freaks out and takes off. I can’t protect her if she’s afraid of me. I take a breath.

“Delaney, are you okay? I… I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

She tilts her head, a line creased between her eyebrows.

“It’s my job to protect you and I… Jesus Christ, Delaney, can’t you just be mad? Slap me or something. Kick me in the balls.”

“I kissed you back.”

She did. She did kiss me back. The thought flutters uselessly. A dying bird trying to fly. I shake my head.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Something about that makes Delaney change. Her curious expression goes flat. Her eyes empty.

“Because I’ve been abused,” she says coldly.

I swallow down the bile that rises. “Look, I’m sorry,” I say. I step up to her and slowly put my hands on her shoulders. I probably shouldn’t touch her again, for my own sake, but I need to make her understand that this touch is different, that I’m different. “I promise, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Her eyes narrow and she shrugs back, forcing my hands away. “I don’t have to worry about what, Ares? You grooming me? Raping me?” A brittle laugh bursts from her lips. “That’s good, because I was real worried about that.”

I feel like she’s slapped me, I’d prefer it if she did. The sting of her words is more painful.

“I’m not broken, Ares,” she spits angrily. She comes at me and I scramble to back up. As she keeps talking, she keeps coming, forcing the space between us to shrink.

“I’m not fucking broken,” she says again. “No matter what you and everybody else might think. I know when I want to kiss somebody. I know when I want to fuck somebody. Maybe some survivors shut down, maybe they need to protect themselves like that, but that doesn’t mean we’re all the same.”

My back slams into the side of the dumpster and she stops, a few feet away. She looks away from me and I see her face change, the anger replaced by a sudden wash of sadness. For a second, she looks far older than eighteen.

“I know what my father did was disgusting and wrong, but you know what it wasn’t? It wasn’t kissing. It wasn’t fucking. It wasn’t making love. It was violence.”

Her face tilts to me again, eyes glittering in the dark. “And it doesn’t make me disgusting and wrong to want kissing and fucking and making love. Okay?”

I’m frozen. Pinned in place under her stare. My heart pounds against my chest and my pulse roars in my ears in the silence she’s left. Words catch my throat. The words I really want to say.

Okay. I get it. Okay, okay, okay.

And then I want to take her in my arms and kiss her and fuck her and make love to her.

But instead, I say something else.

“I’m sorry, Delaney. I…. I can’t.”