Chapter 185 Ares POV

Chapter 185 Ares POV
My eyes fluttered open to the steady rise and fall of my mate’s chest. He was still asleep, utterly at peace, the harsh edges of him softened by rest. Tomorrow is our mating ceremony. Rage had already crossed that threshold with Nova. They had sex two weeks ago and often at that. I had not. I told myself—repeatedly—that it was a matter of choice, of discipline, of wanting the moment to hold meaning. But beneath that carefully constructed reasoning, there was something less refined.

Hesitation.

Apprehension.

Perhaps even fear.

What unsettled me most was not the act itself, but the inevitable conversation that would follow—the admission that I was not ready for the three of us to be together. I did not know if I would ever be ready for that. The idea of sharing something so intimate still felt...foreign. Intrusive. And yet, paradoxically, I found comfort here. Sleeping beside him grounded me in a way nothing else ever had. For once, my mind quieted. For once, I truly rested.

I wondered if he wanted us together, Nova and I. I talked to Lilith, she slept with both her mates at the same time. Could I do that?

Raised voices shattered the calm.

I exhaled sharply.

Rage’s parents—again.

We were at the packhouse, each of us in separate rooms, much like at home. They had arrived four days ago, bringing with them chaos in the form of five brothers...and Ingrid.

Ingrid.

Even now, the image of her lingered—long, cascading blonde curls, striking red eyes, a sculpted body kissed by a light tan. I had seen her through Rage’s memories, but reality was far less forgiving. She was more vivid. More tangible.

When our eyes met when they arrived, something unspoken had passed between us—an awareness. And with it, an involuntary recall of every moment she had shared with him. Unsettling, to say the least. I didn't touch anyone. We had not revealed the extent of mine and Nova’s abilities. That secrecy, at least, remained intact.

Alpha August and his sons were nearly identical—black hair, green eyes, imposing builds. Even their names followed a pattern: Rage, Wrath, Fury, Cross, Vexed, Riled. Their mother, in contrast, was delicate—blonde, soft-featured, her presence almost deceptively gentle.

Their argument escalated.

Rage stirred beside me.

Without thinking, I reached out, tracing the intricate tattoo spanning his chest—gothic architecture entwined with a shadowed forest, a full moon looming above, wolves etched across his abdomen. His skin was warm, smooth, reactive; even the lightest touch sent sparks along my fingertips.

On his back, the raven.

Symbolic. Ominous.

I lifted the sheet slightly, curiosity getting the better of me. Morning light spilled across his body. He sleeps naked. And, predictably, he was hard. Three piercings. I had seen them before—but never like this. Never in full light, without shadows softening the reality of them. My breath caught despite myself.

"What are you doing, Ares?" he murmured, voice thick with sleep as he tugged the sheet back down.

I smiled faintly, saying nothing. Baby steps, I reminded myself.

My hand moved of its own accord, sliding down, wrapping around him. He groaned—low, deep, involuntary. I stroked him slowly, deliberately, my thumb brushing over the head, feeling him respond, grow heavier in my hand.

His hand closed over mine. "Stop," he said, though it came out strained, almost a plea. "I don’t think you really want this. I’m fine waiting. I can wait as long as you need."

"Our ceremony is tomorrow," I replied, quieter than I intended.

The words carried more weight than I liked. Expectation. Judgment. Comparison. My half-sisters had all been marked before their ceremonies. Everyone else had already crossed this line. Everyone but me. I was the last virgin. He slept with Ingrid quickly, with my sister after a few months.

"It doesn’t matter," he said. "I’ll wait."

Of course he would. He had already had my sister. The thought struck harder than it should have. I pulled my hand away abruptly and turned from him.

"Ares, don't let your beautiful mind go there. You and Nova are not interchangable," he sighed, wrapping his arms around me, drawing me back against him. "You know I hate fighting. I don’t want this to turn into that."

Something in me shifted then—sharp, decisive. "Maybe I don’t want to wait anymore."

He went still.

I turned in his arms, meeting his gaze. "Maybe I just want to get it over with."

The reaction was immediate—he softened between us.

"That’s not what I meant," I corrected quickly, but the damage was done. He released me, rolling onto his back, one hand covering his face as he exhaled. I knew him well enough.He wanted intent. Desire. Not obligation.

He wanted me to beg, like I did when Nova and I played with him.

I swallowed.

"Please..." My voice dropped, steadier now, more deliberate. "Please fuck me."

Heat pooled between my thighs, my body betraying the conflict in my mind. The air shifted, carrying something sweeter, heavier. His hands slid down his face, his gaze locking onto mine. He reached for me, cupping my face, his lips brushing mine—slow, testing. His hand slipped into my shorts, fingers finding me, sliding inside with practiced ease. I gasped, my hips lifting instinctively toward him.

"Are you sure?" he murmured against my mouth, his fingers curling deeper.

"Yes… I’m sure. I want you!"

He spread his fingers, stretching me carefully, methodically. Pressure built quickly, my body responding faster than I anticipated. My hand moved over his chest, then lower, wrapping around him again, stroking, feeling the smooth glide of skin beneath my fingers.

He withdrew his hand, and I exhaled sharply at the loss.

My shorts were gone seconds later.

I heard the drawer open, the faint crinkle of foil.

"I’m on birth control," I said immediately. "I want you bare."

He hesitated only briefly before discarding it, reaching instead for lube. "For these," he said, his tone low as the metal of his piercings clicked softly.

He positioned himself over me, nudging my legs apart with his knee, the sheet still draped loosely over us. He guided himself to my entrance. Every nerve in my body lit up. Anticipation coiled tight. He pushed in slowly—inch by inch. I braced for pain.

It didn’t come.

Just pressure.

Fullness.

Completion.

He stilled once he was fully inside me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, searching my face.

I nodded.

He pulled back—

Then thrust forward again.

The sensation shattered through me, sharp and overwhelming. My body reacted instantly, chasing the feeling, wanting more—faster, harder.

And then—

The door slammed open.

We both turned.

“Get out, Fury!” Rage growled.