Till death do us part

(c) 2023 by ihatemilk

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July 2015

She opened her eyes and scanned the surroundings. She appeared to be in a hospital bed, and there was a nurse in the room, a Filipina girl in her early twenties, standing by the wall to the left, looking out the window, peeking through the curtain, expectantly, as if she was waiting for someone or something to happen.

The room itself had a rather hotel vibe to it. The tacky shades of beiges and browns covered the walls and some items of furniture, like the armchair to the left of her bed.

She seemed to be in one piece but her head was throbbing.

"Where am I?" she asked, making the nurse turn her head towards her with her mouth agape, her brain clearly still stuck on the sight behind the window.

"In the best hospital in Dubai, miss," the nurse said, approaching the bed, her face suddenly lit up with a happy smile. "Good lord, thank the heavens you're awake," she exhaled with relief. "Your husband was very angry…" the girl added, a shade of fear etching on her face.

"My husband?" Xena asked pensively, her throat suddenly dry. The thought of him usually made her feel both good and bad at once, but now she felt the pleasant, comforting warmth spread inside her. Why did he have to be the damn knight in shining armor for her? She had tried her best to get him out of her head ever since their encounter in Sana'a last June, when she fucked him on a stupid impulse. Little did she know what mark that would leave.

"Yes, miss, he barely left your side since the day you got checked in," the nurse confessed, her eyes shining with affection.

"How long have I been here?" she winced, trying to stop the picture the girl painted from affecting her the way it did.

"Let me call—"

"I said… how long?"

The nurse bit her lip, fidgeting with her apron.

"It's been seven weeks, miss…"

"No…"

She saw the nurse produce the phone out of her apron pocket and dial a number. Her temples were pulsating. "I have to tell your husband you woke up, I promised to call him," the girl explained, putting a phone to her ear and heading out of the room, leaving her alone and unable to grasp why the need to see him was suddenly eating her alive.

Pushing her head back against the pillow, she tried to remember what happened, but random images running through her head were too blurry. Seven weeks… gods, two months… And where the hell was he? Why did she ache to see him so badly?

The nurse came back before she managed to reach any reasonable conclusion.

"He'll be here in a minute, he's in a parking lot," the girl beamed, rushing to the window, sticking her nose in the curtain excitedly. Oh, so that was who the nurse had been waiting for in that window with such longing. She suddenly wondered if Ares fucked the girl; it made her nauseous.

But the sight of him at the door erased all her thoughts in a second. She swallowed with effort, because gods, he was like a commercial for find-your-hot-entrepreneur-husband-today website. His hair slicked back, he was wearing a light brown dress shirt with a black tie and black slim-fit pants which fit him in a way that made her mouth water. He stood in the doorway for seconds, silent, his gaze intense on her, his chest rising and falling visibly. Just when she thought he couldn't look any hotter, he unbuttoned the shirt sleeves and rolled them up his forearms as he approached her. She couldn't blame the nurse, really.

He didn't say a word, just sat down on the side of the bed. His breath labored, he grabbed her hand and squeezed hard, just short of cracking her fingers, but she didn't stop him. His temper and the ardor of his emotions always excited her, in the way fire did. As much as she used to keep a safe distance not to get burned, she now craved the fire and longed to walk right into it.

The dark eyes pierced her through, his thumb rubbing against the nape of her hand fervently, and she felt that warmth spread inside her again. He looked like he was about to either kill her or fall apart; it stirred her in a dangerous way.

"You scared the life out of me," he breathed, closing his eyes, bringing her hand up to his lips to nibble on it, before sinking his teeth in her flesh painfully. The sudden rush of desire made her whimper uncontrollably, his anger arousing her more than ever. Fuck her pride, fuck being cautious. His love, his anger, she wanted all of it, all of him, so much that it should probably frighten her.

She drew in a breath to compose herself. "What happened?" she wanted to know, since all her attempts at reconstructing her recent memories were mostly unsuccessful. She saw how her question made him clench his jaws.

"What happened?" he echoed her question incredulously, smirking, raising his eyebrows. "I can tell you what's gonna happen," he said with a hint of that delicious, husky menace to his voice, leaning closer towards her. Her heart was thudding in her chest when she felt his breath in her ear. "I will take you… out of here… and you will be grounded."

Panting, she grunted when his lips brushed against the side of her face. "What…?"

"Oh, you heard that right — I'm gonna take you home, and you'll be fucking grounded," he grinned, and, before she managed to come up with a coherent answer, with any answer, he nodded at the nurse.

The girl was standing sheepishly in the corner, fiddling with the hem of her apron, but as soon as he looked at her, she materialized herself by his side like a good little puppy.

"I can't wait to have her home with me," he smiled at the nurse, "If you know what I mean… we're newlyweds," he added in that thick voice that made her sweat, and she saw the girl blush slightly; but as much as it irked her, she couldn't blame her in the least.

"I'll get the doctor," the nurse offered faintly, clenching the hem of her apron.

"Good girl," he said, and this time the girl's face burned red.

She fought the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

"Did you fuck her?"

"What?"

"It's a yes or no question."

"The nurse?" he laughed out. "Well, you've been out for quite a bit so... Oh gods, you're serious..." he laughed with such annoying merriment that punching his face was all the more tempting.

He shook his head, smirking in disbelief. "Why, baby — would you rather have me all for yourself? he asked, leaning in close, making her grimace at the way this question and his close proximity affected her, though she was still tempted to send a jab to his stupidly smug face. "All you have to do is ask."

"Aren't you too much of a man-whore for that?"

"Not if I'm in love," he looked down her chest and then up to meet her gaze, his eyes burning in the way that made her short of air. Why the hell did he have to say those things and look the way he did and be all the things that made her weak in the knees, and wear the damn shirt and tie, on top of that?

"But since we can't be together…" he raised his brows, "I guess you'll never know."

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At first, she thought she was still dreaming.

She must have been out for a while, because she'd totally missed how she left the hospital and appeared in a sand cave that smelled like incense and some oriental-scented oils; the fragrance reminded her of the time Gabrielle and her were in India back in their previous life.

The huge glass wall to her right was letting in so much light that she squinted when she looked straight at it. She was tucked in the corner of a huge black sofa, drowning in the ridiculous number of different-sized cushions and blankets; it almost felt like a waterbed. It was hard to make out what the floor covering was, but its color matched the sandy walls, with just one element standing out — the plain black animal-skin rug; her first guess was sheep, but it didn't seem soft enough. She longed to touch it with her feet.

All the textiles seemed to be made of raw-textured fabric, linen or cotton, pleasantly rough to the touch, their washed-out blackness contrasting with the brightness of the dome-shaped, sandy walls. Their texture appeared both cozy and raw — tempting to touch but likely to cut through skin. Much like the owner of the place, she thought, frowning at the cheesiness of the comparison.

To her dismay, she was disappointed that she couldn't sense him around. What was this place, anyway? Its beauty was breathtaking, but it wasn't anything like the dark, ostentatiously luxurious, gold and silk-filled interiors that she used to associate with him; on the contrary, this place was raw and simple, just sand and linen. Even plants were minimalist, just a cactus here and there; though, each of them human-sized, revoking the distant memories of the days she'd spent in North-African deserts back in the old days.

She was dying to smoke.

Walking up to the glass wall, she opened the terrace door and gasped when the hot dry air coated her skin. During all the months spent in Yemen, she learned to like the heat, grew to love it.

The terrace was huge. It had a more modern vibe, the cool brown of chestnut floorboards — why did she know this? — matching the long rattan coffee table surrounded with black armchairs and a black sofa mirroring the furniture inside. But most importantly, the coffee table held a packet of smokes. She grabbed it and cursed, not seeing the lighter anywhere.

And then she stopped and forgot all about it, when she walked towards the glass barriers and looked down. High altitudes, like speeding, always gave her a thrill, but this — this wasn't just some high altitude. This was a view from a damn plane... Standing there hypnotized, she didn't even pick up on his presence until she heard slow, heavy steps behind her. She closed her eyes, feeling his body heat pressing against her back. When he slid his hands around her waist, her stomach contracted so hard she was out of air.

But it was different. He felt different. This wasn't his usual seductive self and strangely, even despite his evident arousal, there was nothing erotic about his touch; not even when he nuzzled the side of her head, brushing his nose against her earlobe, tightening his hold on her, making her stomach flip again. When she finally opened her eyes and got hit by that view again, she felt weak in the knees.

"You like it?" he asked softly, pressing his lips above her ear, and whatever he was asking about, yes, she liked it, she loved it, loved it all.

"Yes…" she said with effort, trying to keep her breath even. His proximity always had an effect on her but this... maybe she was still high on some drugs they medicated her with at the hospital.

"How're you feeling?"

Maybe the concern in his voice shouldn't move her like that, but coming from him — she couldn't help it — like his embrace, it did dangerous things to her.

"I'm fine," she lied, as telling the truth would incorporate admitting that her left arm was starting to pulsate with pain. She had to go back to work, not have him fuss over her and keep her bed-bound, and hold her like this, like he loved her. She had to get away from him before she lost her mind. Fuck him out of her system first, yes, but then get away. And stay away.

Then, slightly annoyed for some unspecified reason, she remembered why she came here in the first place. Leaving his embrace, she walked over to the rattan coffee table with the red and white packet of their favorite smokes. "Why the fuck would you have a packet of cigs without a lighter?"

He chuckled in response. She turned around, meeting his amused glare.

"Actually, I do have a legit reason for that."

He walked up to where she was standing, picked up the packet and offered it to her. Waiting for her to put one in her mouth, he formed a micro fireball at the tip of his thumb and held it against the tip of the cigarette until she inhaled and lit it. "Seriously?" she raised her eyebrows in amusement. "You're such a big kid."

None of the expected witty retort came. He was just eyeing her with a boyish half-grin that made her want to put her hands around his neck, smile back at him and— and maybe she was drugged, indeed.

She cleared her throat and frowned, realizing she was still wearing the white hospital gown. She needed her clothes. Or any clothes, for that matter — anything but this. He had to have a wardrobe.

And he did. She ended up wearing his black tank top — what had to be a tight fit for him looked more like a loose minidress on her, to his unhidden approval.

She felt his eyes on her all the way back to the terrace.

"Aren't you too hot?" he asked, pouring himself a glass from the bottle he just produced on the table. If I was, we would be fucking instead of smoking, she thought and bit her lip not to say it out loud.

"No, why?"

"I'm considering installing a fan here."

"Don't do it on my account," she answered, sitting herself down on the sofa and crossing her legs, putting a cigarette in her mouth.

"Most mortals I know can't take a heat like that," he said, lighting her cigarette before joining her on the sofa.

"Maybe you should be more careful who you bring here," she offered, a bit more venomously than she intended. Of course, he was now going to rub it in her face big time.

She was surprised when he didn't.

"I've never brought anyone here before," he said, too reluctantly for it to be untrue.

She sighed, scolding herself for the stupid flutter his confession caused in her chest. Why should it matter? He didn't bring people to Olympus either, it didn't mean a thing.

"Why, did you move in just yesterday?"

Lighting up his own cigarette, he sat himself down next to her.

"Several years ago," he said, pushing back against the cushions, letting out a dense cloud of smoke on a slow exhale.

"Is this your main residence?"

"Only since recently. I needed a base in the Middle East, and then I kinda got attached, I don't know… no place felt like home the way this one did."

"Like Olympus?"

"Olympus was a family home. This one is solely mine; my place and my creation."

"Creation?"

"Dubai started off as a little side project. I wanted to build something from scratch, you know, something that I would engineer all the way through, and make it alive, a living organism, the whole ecosystem."

"Pretty creationist for the 21st century," she half-grinned, biting down her lip not to reveal how impressed she was. "You did a hell of a job."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smile.

"You know, I think it's the first nice thing you've said to me, ever," he drew in a puff of his cigarette lazily and let it out through his nostrils, his eyes closed, his arm bent, stretched leisurely behind his head. He looked so cozy. It had to be the first time she saw him so relaxed.

"Are you sulking?" she teased.

"A bit."

She grinned, seeing his mouth twist in a smile. But it disappeared the very next second, as soon as she spoke. "You saved me, again..."

He grunted. "I guess I just don't take it too well when you die," he exhaled, "which you have a damn annoying habit of doing."

"Sorry about that," she smiled apologetically, turning her head to look at him. He met her gaze for a while; there was no anger there, just quiet sadness that he tried to mask with furrowing his brows.

"Ares... what happened in Aden?"

"You mean, apart from you almost succeeding at getting yourself killed?"

At the hands of the people you supply with weapons, she almost said, but stopped herself. She didn't want to argue; it would escalate quickly, and she was too tired for it now.

"I remember I was in the office and then, I woke up here."

He didn't respond at first, his eyes still closed, his chest rising and falling at a faster pace, his jaw twitching.

"I picked up on your signal there... got you from under debris... I thought you were dead," he paused, swallowing. He inhaled, clearing his throat. "You're only alive because we got to the ER within seconds."

Her heart racing, she felt her fists clench. Before she realized, she was squeezing his hand in hers.

"They said you might never wake up..." he added breathlessly, and she couldn't fight it anymore. Trying to calm her own breathing, she found herself clinging to his side, her hand wrapping around his chest, her face burying in his neck, breathing him in, the warm, spicy scent that both relaxed her and made her heart race; and it all felt so natural, so liberating, so good; so good she wanted to cry; and when he wrapped his arms around her, she had to clench her teeth not to.

As he tightened his embrace on her, his hand pressed against some spot on her ribs, sending a jolt of pain throughout her whole side. She winced, pulling back.

"I knew it you lied," he said, touching her side gently. "Where?"

"The whole left side," she admitted reluctantly.

"That's strange... you shouldn't have any bruises by now," pushing her back against the cushions, he pulled up the hem of her top, baring her midsection. "There's no bruising..." he frowned, running his fingers along her side.

"Here?" he stopped when she winced again. "There's nothing here..."

"It's not that bad, probably just a cramp — what are you doing?"

"Taking you to the hospital."

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you…" she sighed.

"You're still under observation for the next couple of days."

"Couple of days? I gotta go back to work..."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You know… only you could say something like this the minute you wake up from a coma after almost dying."

She opened her mouth to protest but he wouldn't let her. "And as much as I admire your strong sense of duty and work ethics, you are currently on a sick leave due to a work-related accident that nearly killed you, and yes, I got paperwork for that. And, considering you were gone for weeks, several days really make no difference."

"Ares, going to the hospital with a cramp is a waste of time."

"I waited for you to wake up for two fucking months, so you don't wanna test my patience anymore, believe me..."

Seeing his jaw tense, she reached out to stroke his cheek; he closed his eyes for a moment.

"I'm only doing this so you stop being a pain in the ass," she slid her hands around his waist.

She hated hospitals; ever since Gabrielle's diagnosis they only made her think of cancer. But now, all she could see was him, his forehead creasing when he asked the doctor about her scan results, the tender look in his eyes when he then glanced at her, squeezing her hand in the meantime.

"You okay?" he asked when she fidgeted on the bed.

"Yeah."

Shortly after the two injections she got, the pain was gone and she was only slightly lightheaded. But the truth was, it was getting to her — the awkwardness and frustration of being a passive observer of someone else taking care of everything. And the fact that this someone else was him was unsettling on its own.

The results were good; the doctor explained the painful cramps might happen every now and then for the next several days while her body was still adjusting to gradually increasing physical activity after the coma. Ten minutes later she felt as good as new, and they were getting ready to leave. She told him she was fine, but he still insisted on carrying her; just like she insisted on pretending she didn't like it.

He wouldn't let her go even after they materialized in the living room.

"I've been meaning to ask you — the whole UN office was evacuated to Jeddah, and by some strange coincidence, you were the only one left behind, wanna shed some light on that?" he queried, placing her down on the sofa.

She sighed heavily. This was going to be a drag. Not long ago, she could have gotten out of this conversation by playing the memory-loss card, but now it all came back to her, and she didn't want to lie to him. Although she really didn't feel like hearing him question her principles and life philosophy yet again. They were never going to see eye to eye on this, and there was no point in engaging in another futile, antagonizing discussion.

"Nope," she replied curtly.

"Say again?"

"You asked if I wanna shed light on that — I don't," she lifted an eyebrow teasingly.

He pursed his lips, raising his brows high as he tilted his head to the side. "Very well, suit yourself. You're grounded anyway."

"Ares… you can't keep me locked up in here."

"Oh yeah? Watch me," he said, challenging her with a glare that sent a tingle of excitement down her arms. "What, and you thought you'd wake up after two months and have me take you back to Yemen the very next minute? To where I found you half-dead?"

She clenched her teeth, breathing out.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me…" he scoffed, turning his head. "Okay, let me get this straight — you almost died in a bombing, and I spent weeks at your bed thinking you might never even wake up — and now that you did, you were going to ask me to take you back there, the middle of the fucking battlefield — did I miss anything?"

"Just the part where the cause of my almost-death were the weapons you personally supplied," she said and half-regretted it instantly when she saw his face twist in a slow-burning rage. Gods, she was too tired for it.

"You see, I tried playing nice, but it doesn't work with you, Xena…" he frowned, loosening his tie before removing it lazily.

Her throat went dry.

"The only language you seem to understand is force…" he mused in a calm tone, tossing the tie aside and moving on to unbutton his shirt. "And you know that for this, you don't have to ask me twice..." he pulled the shirt off, standing before her wearing only the tight-fit black pants topped off with a thick leather belt.

Her heart was on the verge of jumping out of her chest when the belt buckle came undone under his fingers.

"What are you doing…" she panted, fever spreading all over her as he stepped towards the sofa.

"We're gonna do some negotiating my way," he mused, removing her clothes with a snap of his fingers before pinning her down and prying her thighs open with his knee. "Oh, gods..." he gasped when his hand followed. "See, your body never lies to me, Xena... tells me all I need to know..."

She held her breath, the cry dying in her throat when she let him take what he wanted.

"Now I'm gonna fuck some reason into you," he breathed, the threat in his voice making her shiver, making her wonder how long till her knuckles break in her fist. "I'm gonna fuck you till you give me your word you'll stay in Jeddah," he uttered hoarsely, running his teeth over his lower lip. "And don't forget I'm a god, Xena — I can go for hours," he whispered into her ear, biting on her lobe painfully, as if the feel of him didn't make her delirious enough, as if it was easy to hold back the scream burning her lungs, as if it was easy to hide that nothing had ever set her ablaze the way he did. He didn't need hours; all he would ask, she was ready to promise him right away, anything he wanted, anything, everything, just so she could feel this way forever.

But he didn't need to know that.

She did need time, though, to fuck him out of her system good and thorough, once and for all.

Luckily, he only asked for Jeddah.

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