Chapter 5: Midnight Visit

“Leave her alone, Father.”

“Then keep your paws off her, Ares. I’m not blind—I know what you two have been sneaking around doing.”

“Why’s this suddenly about me and her?”

“Because you’re gonna have to ditch her eventually, son. Randall might’ve turned her, Lachlan might’ve polished her into a decent hunter, but she’s not one of us. Never will be. The moon goddess must’ve been half-asleep when she paired her with you. Claim her, and you’re both out—banished. Done.”

Banishment. The word hung in Vanya’s head, clinging to her thoughts as she slumped against the balcony railing. Midnight had crept up, and she was still chewing over the shouting match she’d overheard between Ares and his dad, Alpha Callum, earlier.

She hadn’t even left her room, but the day had dragged on like a marathon with no finish line. Tomorrow promised more of the same, and she knew she needed sleep. Fat chance—her brain was a mess of frustration, worry, and the bombshell that Ares was her mate.

Her mate. How the hell had he kept that from her?

Cursing him silently, a chilly breeze swept in, prickling her bare arms with goosebumps. Her beige nightgown—more of a sad, flappy rag than actual clothing—did nothing to keep her warm. Still, the idea of shuffling back inside to her cozy bed felt like admitting defeat. So she stayed put, replaying that damn conversation in her head for the umpteenth time.

Alpha Callum’s voice, gruff and final. Ares, all defensive and snippy. Overthinking was her specialty, but after a few minutes, she muttered, “Enough,” to no one in particular.

She stole one last glance at the sky—stars winking like they knew something she didn’t—then dragged herself inside, sliding the glass door shut with a soft thud. Crossing the room, she flopped onto her bed, sprawling on her back. The mattress creaked under her as she strained to hear any late-night prowlers outside her door. Nothing but quiet.

“Dammit,” she grumbled, forcing herself to breathe slow and deep. Sleep was the goal, but her jittery nerves were throwing a party. She had to figure out how to shut them up—fast.

Vanya stared at the ceiling, its cracks staring back like they were judging her. Her hands drifted up, brushing over her breasts through the flimsy nightgown. She flicked her nipples with two fingers, a lazy little tease that’d become her go-to for waking up her sluggish senses. Routine, really—stroking from chest to belly, coaxing her body out of its funk. Her right hand slipped lower, grazing the skin around her stomach and hips under the thin fabric.

“Ares…” she murmured, half-expecting the empty room to answer. Pointless, but it felt good to say it. She trailed her right hand back up, teasing a nipple again, while her left palm roamed over her groin, pressing against the nightgown. Slow and deliberate, she rubbed her index and middle fingers along the folds beneath her panties.

“Ah, shit.” The jolt hit fast—her heart kicked into gear, thumping like it was late for something. Heat bloomed low in her gut, spreading out as she shivered, caught off guard by how quick it ramped up. She pulled her left hand back, dragging her fingers over the damp fabric where she ached, the friction making her twitch.

She was wound tight now, craving Ares’ hands instead of her own clumsy substitutes. Her left hand dove back under the waistband, pretending it was him—rough, sure, his. She slid her fingers over her pubic bone, brushing her folds, nerves buzzing with antsy little thrill.

Tonight, she was extra sensitive, courtesy of the anxious mess the day had dumped on her.

A whimper slipped out as her eyes fluttered shut. She pictured Ares in the shower—water sluicing down his bare skin, dripping off all the right places. Her fingers dipped inside her, slow and slick, and she imagined his tongue instead.

“Ah… shit. Ares…” Her voice cracked, soft and needy, lost in the dark of her room.

Vanya arched her back, pulling her slick fingers free to circle her clit with purpose. Eyes clamped shut, she let the fantasy spool out—Ares in the shower, all wet and grabby. She reached up with her free hand, squeezing her breast the way he would, rough and greedy. In her head, he’d slide those long fingers of his deep inside her, hitting just the right spot.

A soft moan slipped out, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she pictured him now—hand wrapped around himself, stroking slow, head tipped back like he was savoring it. She thrust her fingers harder, rubbing herself raw to the mental image of him, hard and lost in his own grip.

“Fuck,” she hissed, hips rocking against her hand. The sensations swallowed her whole, sharp and electric. A chilly breeze snuck in through the window, prickling her skin and making it all feel more. Her weak little breaths turned heavy and ragged, and as the heat coiled tighter, she gasped—then froze, fingers stalling. A few shaky inhales later, she dove back in, rubbing with both fingers now, whimpering as the pleasure surged from her core to her toes, wild and unstoppable.

“Fuck… ah!" She was right there, teetering, picking up the pace with fluttering eyes—when a knock thudded against the door.

“Really?” she groaned, yanked out of her haze like a bucket of cold water to the face. Her high crashed, and she snatched her fingers back, muttering a string of curses under her breath.

Who the hell knocks at this hour? Rude didn’t cover it.

She rolled off the bed, tugging her nightgown straight, and shuffled to the door, irritation buzzing in her veins. When she yanked it open, she nearly choked. Ares stood there, smirking like he knew something she didn’t, dripping wet and wrapped in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. Water clung to his skin, his hair a damp, messy mop sticking out every which way.

“You okay?” he asked, that sly grin widening.

Her jaw dropped an inch. Fresh-from-the-shower Ares, late at night—what was he playing at? Her brain scrambled, still half-fried from her interrupted solo act.

He tilted his head, smirking deeper. “Did I interrupt something?”

Fuck. Vanya clammed up, lips sealed tight. If she opened her mouth, he’d know—catching her mid-fantasy was bad enough, but mid-hand-in-pants fantasy? Mortifying. So she just shrugged, playing it off like it was nothing.

“Yesterday, I was looking for you,” Ares said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh, yeah?” she mumbled, still reeling.

“Yeah. Wanted to drag you out to the woods, find some quiet spot, peel those damn leather pants off you, and lick you senseless ‘til you didn’t know your own name,” he said, voice slow and rough.

A shiver shot down her spine, her brain painting the picture before she could stop it. But then she remembered—he’d lied to her, kept the mate thing hush-hush.

“Ares, what the hell are you doing here?”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, darkening with that hungry glint. “I can smell you. Your room’s screaming with it, Vanya. You’re all worked up.”

Shit. She bit her lip, hard. “So what? It’s my body—I’ll do whatever I damn well please with it,” she rasped, fighting to keep her voice level, though it wobbled like a drunk on ice.

That just pulled a smirk from him, slow and smug. “I know.”

“And? So? What do you want, Ares?” she fired back, flipping her tone to flippant, like she wasn’t still buzzing from her own touch. “Look, I’m not in the mood to chat. Not after you snitched to my father—and definitely not after I—” She cut herself off, clamping her mouth shut.

“What?” he pressed, eyebrow quirking up, a grin still plastered on his stupid, wet face.

“Nothing,” she muttered, letting out a heavy sigh. “Just leave me alone, please.” She scowled, arms folding tight across her chest like a shield.

Ares didn’t budge. He just chuckled—low, annoying, him—and sauntered a few steps into her room like he’d been invited. “You sure you want me gone?”

“Yes!” she snapped, throwing her hands up. “Get out so I can crawl back into bed and deal with all this damn frustration and anxiety in peace. Dammit!”

His smile widened, all teeth and trouble. “That’s what I love about you, Vanya. You know what you want, and you don’t tiptoe around it. So why don’t we finish what you started?”

“What—” Before she could finish, he closed the gap, scooped her up like she weighed nothing, and dropped her onto the bed with a soft thud.

“Show me where your hands were before I so rudely barged in,” he said, voice smooth as sin. Her face went hot, cheeks flaming in an instant.

She could shove him out—kick his smug ass to the curb. But there he was, still damp from the shower, that towel barely clinging to his hips. Her heart hammered like a drumline, and the ache between her legs wasn’t exactly voting him off the island.

Ares joined her on the bed and leaned in close, breath tickling her ear. “I dare you, Vanya. Show me.”

She swallowed hard, pulse jumping. “Alright, then. You asked for it.” Her fingers snagged the hem of her nightgown, inching it up her thigh slow and deliberate, like she was daring him right back. His eyes locked on hers, dark and unblinking, as her other hand slid down, picking up where she’d left off—bold, shaky, and not backing down.