God of War: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage Romance (Legacy of Gods Book 6)

“Something’s wrong with me.”From NôvelDrama.Org.

The words leave my mouth in a haunted whisper. Probably because I never wanted to speak them aloud, let alone admit them to another person.

Said person is my therapist.

My new therapist.

The one who replaced the other therapist whose fate is unknown at best and sabotaged by my husband at worst.

Dr. Blaine is a middle-aged black woman with a pixie haircut, who’s wearing a smart casual pantsuit and dainty diamond-stud earrings.

She was taken aback by my appearance at her office in Great Portland Street, mainly because I used a fake name to make an appointment.

Whenever I tried in the past, I was turned away unless I mentioned I’d be accompanied by my legal guardian. Aka my husband.

So I had to get creative.

If Blaine doesn’t like it, she doesn’t show it in her neutral facial expression that could belong to monks cultivating in faraway mountains.

She stares at me as I lounge on the chaise across from her. “Due to our treatment plan, I can’t speak to you in the absence of your guardian unless previously authorized by him, Mrs. King. My assistant will arrange another appointment⁠—”

“Because I’m insane?”

“Because I’m legally required to.”

I bite down on my lower lip and then release it before I draw blood. “Then can you tell me what I can do on my own? Can I even open a bank account without his presence? Book a flight? A hotel room?”

“I’m sure you can discuss this with your husband.”

I shake my head but say nothing.

For the past two weeks, we’ve fallen into this bubble I created for both of us. Eli ordered that my stuff be moved to his room the morning after the party. He even let me redecorate it and turn it into this odd but somehow beautiful mix of pink and gray.

Though he does grumble about the fluffy slippers he trips over and the feather robe that’s on his chair. And the towel on his floor.

He’s a lost organized cause. Though he’d call me chaos in a pink wrapper while picking up my things and tidying them in a neurotic way.

Since that first time, he’s never fucked me while clothed again. Not once. And he always picks positions where we’re facing each other, even if he ties me up to his headboard.

He still looks at me.

He still curses deep in his throat when looking at me.

And I like to think that I’m carving myself inside him with every touch.

With every bath that he now takes with me and every massage he gives me. I swear he has hands more soothing than professionals.

The last couple of weeks have been a dream. We went to Paris for three days. Fine, it was a business trip but he didn’t tell me no when I wanted to tag along or when I took him with me for some extravagant shopping.

He also didn’t say no when I split the bags between him and Leo. What? We’re overusing the poor guy and he needs a break now and then.

But that’s the thing about dreams. They’re an illusion that I keep waiting to be jerked out of.

Every night, I dread sleep more than anything, even when surrounded by his strong arms.

Even after I bury my face in his neck or chest.

Even when he strokes my hair until fall under.

“I keep having this dream about falling into a puddle of water and when I hit the surface, it turns crimson red and then I’m drowning in blood,” I say softly.

“Mrs. King. I’m sure⁠—”

“I’m losing time,” I cut her off, my chin trembling. “I wake up and I don’t know where I am for a while. Sometimes, he’ll talk to me and I don’t hear anything because I’m not there anymore. Eli, Sam, and Leo lie to me, probably not to worry me, but I recognize when my state of fugue is getting out of control. It’s happened three times in the past few weeks. That I’m aware of. And we both know if I’m conscious of those three times, then the actual percentage is much higher. I know you can’t do anything for me now, but I’m asking you, I’m imploring you to increase my medication so I’m right again. But don’t tell him I know. It’s okay if he thinks I’m in the dark.”

Tears stream down my cheeks and I wipe them with the back of my hand. This deplorable feeling of helplessness has been eating at me from the inside out the entire time I’ve been laughing, joking, and holding on to the illusion that everything will fix itself.

But I should know self-healing is not an option for me. If I leave it this way, my state will only get worse, and who knows what I might do when I fall into that hideous pool of loss of consciousness.

That’s what the blood in my nightmares represents.

Something unavoidable.

“Mrs. King,” Dr. Blaine starts in a soft voice. “I’m afraid only your guardian can approve any increase of medication or alterations to your current treatment plan.”

“Then tell him I need it. He’ll listen to you. I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me like this.”

“If we increase the medication, you’ll be lethargic more often than not.”

“But I’ll be conscious of my surroundings. I want to be there in my life. I don’t want to lose moments because my stupid brain decided to check out. You’re a doctor, why can’t you heal me? Why can’t anyone heal me and give me back my life, my memories, my agency? I can only function with the help of meds and I’m finally fine with that, I accepted that, but why aren’t they working effectively anymore?”

The thought that this is a phase that will soon come to an end has been eroding me.

I don’t want the end.

Not when I’m just beginning.

Not when I’ve been the happiest in my life.

Dr. Blaine says nothing, but I wasn’t expecting her to. I just wanted to vent to a stranger so I wouldn’t hurt my family and friends or set off my parents’ alarm bells about my dreaded loss of control.

I stand up and pat my cheeks. “Let me ask one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Will I ever be normal enough to have children?”

She remains silent and that’s all the answer I need.

If I have children, I can’t raise them or I’ll most likely be a threat to them.

Better yet, I shouldn’t have them for everyone’s sake.

And that will leave the heir of King Enterprises heirless.

Because of me.

I came to Dr. Blaine to seek answers, but I leave with a heavy heart and tears burning my eyes.

That afternoon, Eli invites me to watch him be a sex god.

Sorry, I meant play polo.

It’s not my fault that he looks hotter than sin in his tight white polo shirt while commanding a horse with infinite ease.

I’m so happy I brought a lace fan that matches my umbrella, because I need to cool off whenever I look at him.

The downside is that his team plays against Papa and Remi’s. Worse, he’s accompanied by Uncle Aiden, Landon, who’s staying longer than needed—probably because Mia joined him—and Bran, who came to visit his parents with his fiancé, Nikolai.

Said fiancé stands out like a sore thumb amid our heritage dresses, Ralph Lauren blazers, and Loro Piana-acquired pieces.

Doesn’t help that he shouts profanity when anyone gets within a meter radius of Bran. Mia attempts to haul him down whenever he stands up, with little success.

At one point, he and Ari nearly started a fight because he called Remi a ‘motherfucker’ for lightly shoving Bran, and I swear she would’ve clawed his eyes out if I hadn’t brought her down.

As volatile as the situation is, I’m glad to get my mind off things. Even temporarily.

Besides, I’ll take any opportunity to dress up and look pretty.

I’m wearing a polka-dotted pink dress, the tulle underskirt adding a touch of playfulness to my outfit. Delicate lace gloves adorn my hands, matching the intricate design of my round hat. I completed the look with white-rimmed shades that shield my eyes from the bright sunlight while adding a chic and fashionable flair to my ensemble.

“This is so exciting,” Mama says from beside me, rocking her vintage dress.

“More like a disaster waiting to happen. If not on the field, then here.” I tug on my sister’s sleeve when she tries to talk shit at both Nikolai and Mia. “Just sit down, Ari!”

“You’re both going down.” She does a slicing-throat motion.

“Don’t threaten me with that if you can’t perform it in real life,” Nikolai says, relaxing his feet so they’re crossed at the ankles.

Ari lifts her chin “Who says I can’t? Wanna try me, big man?”

“Why is she nothing like you?” Mia whispers to me. “She’s like a more vicious version of Anni.”

“Tell me about it. We better stop your brother and my sister from killing each other.”

“Amen to that. Besides.” She smiles with triumph. “It’s obvious whose team is going to win. No offense to your dad and Remi.”

“I heard that!” Ari jumps up.

“And?” Mia attempts to be oblivious. “Lan and his team are better at this.”

“That’s right.” Nikolai puffs out his chest. “My Bran is made for elegant sports.”

“So is Remi! If you don’t shut up, I will…”

“What? What are you going to do with your mini size?” Nikolai drawls with contained impatience.

She gasps. “Height isn’t a flex, giant.”

“Not if I can squash you like an ant who’s getting in my way.”

“Come at me!”

“You’d drop dead before I reach you.”

“Stop it, Niko,” Mia whisper-yells at her brother while I wrestle Ari back to her seat.

Mama and Aunt Elsa just laugh and then both proceed to casually cheer for their husbands as if a world war isn’t at the point of erupting.

I’m the only one who’s torn between my dad’s and my husband’s teams. So I choose to cheer whenever either of the teams score and proceed to be called a traitor by the cult surrounding me.

Talk about trying to please everyone.

Papa and Remi pull the entire weight of their team, but they still lose by two goals, and the last one is scored by none other than Eli.

I clap even as Ari glares at me and then says in a dramatic voice, “Mama, let’s prepare Papa a pick-me-up meal and some condolences for fathering a traitor.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” I poke her with my umbrella. “I’m neutral.”

“Neutrally eye-fucking your husband,” she whispers so only I can hear her. “Don’t think those glasses can fool me.”

I pull her by the ear until she’s at my face level. “Don’t lecture me if you’re doing the same, you little shit.”

“Well, I don’t pretend. I also asked Papa to let me marry Remi if they manage to win.”

“And Remi’s still alive?”

She disengages from me. “Yeah, so? Though pretty sure Papa lost on purpose. Does this mean he likes Eli better than my Remi?”

I laugh despite myself. She sounds so wounded and offended at the prospect.

“He’s like the greenest flag. How can he not prefer him over that massive red flag of a husband you have?”

“Hey!” I catch her ear again and she kicks me teasingly.

But then I spot Eli dismounting his horse and I lose interest in bickering with my sister. I shove her away, dust off my dress, and sit like the elegant lady I am.

He bro-hugs his dad and cousins before he walks in my direction while removing his helmet.

Such a simple act shouldn’t look so hot, but he has the unnerving skill of making everything look mouthwatering.

His tall legs eat up the distance in no time before he stops in front of me. A sheen of sweat covers his neck and dampens his dark locks, and I want to rake my fingers through them.

Preferably while he fucks me into oblivion and makes me forget about reality.

And now, it’s impossible to keep my poker face. I squirm as he stands in front of me, blocking the sun. I’m aware of Nikolai hugging Bran and Landon going to Mia, but they soon float into the background when Eli wipes the polo ball on his shirt and then offers it to me.

“Game ball. For you.”

“Aw.” Aunt Elsa places a hand on her chest. “My son can be so sweet.”

He flashes her a wink as I accept the ball with a stupid grin and carefully tuck it into my clutch before I stand up and brush my lips against his cheek. “Thanks.”

“Don’t you think I deserve more than a mere cheek kiss, Mrs. King?”

“Later. Our parents are here.”

“And that’s a problem because? You do know they have sex, too, right?”

“Eli!”

“You might need to sit down for this, beautiful. Actually, Father Christmas is not real.”

I gasp. “How dare you tarnish my delusions?”

He smiles as he tugs me toward him by the elbow and kisses my forehead.

I have no choice but to melt as tears well up in my eyes. Why does he have to be so dreamy all of a sudden?

It was bad when he was a cold, emotionless monster, but now, it’s impossible to deny how much I’m irrevocably in love with this man.

The type of love that will break me fully this time.

I intended to take revenge, but I ended up falling deeper. What a mess.

I place a hand on his chest and pull away, plastering a smile. “You played beautifully.”

He narrows his eyes as if he can see the reason for the topic change. Sometimes, he reads me so well that it terrifies me, because now, he has the power to annihilate me if he chooses to.

The power to lock me up in an asylum and marry another woman who can give him children. Maybe someone from old money like Gemma.

The thought brings bile to the back of my throat. “But you could’ve taken it easy on Papa.”

“He wouldn’t respect me if I did.”

“I still don’t respect you and never will, punk.” Papa tugs me away from him and kisses the top of my head. “Are you divorcing him anytime soon, princess?”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Eli pulls me back to his side. “But we’ll be happily married for your lifetime and beyond, Uncle.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“My son can call you whatever he pleases.” Uncle Aiden stands by Eli’s side and crosses his arms, a mischievous gleam igniting in both father’s and son’s eyes. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re upset you lost to me? Again.”

“I’ll bury you and your son six feet under right here and now.”

“Papa,” I whisper.

“I’d like to see you try,” Uncle Aiden says.

“Dad,” Eli says with a note of reprimand. “Let’s take it easy on Uncle Cole. He put so much effort into driving a wedge between me and my wife for nothing. Surely, we can be magnanimous.”

“Absolutely, son. He can be taxing when acting petty.”

“Word.”

“Eli!” I elbow him and try to go to Papa, but he tightens his grip around my waist, forcing me to remain in place.

“I’m here to stay, Uncle. So either you accept that and the beautiful grandchildren we’ll give you, or you drive yourself to an early grave by giving yourself heart issues.”

“Grandchildren, Cole.” Uncle Aiden grins wolfishly. “For your information, we’ll be sharing those.”

“Many of them, too,” Eli says, caressing my waist. “My Ava wants at least three.”

“This little—” Papa lunges at Eli, or I think he does, because I’ve checked out.

The world turns into a buzzing mess. My heart throbs and no air reaches my lungs.

A gentle stroke of a finger against my throat brings me back to the present. Eli, Uncle Aiden, and Papa are staring at me intently.

“You okay?” my husband asks, his brow furrowed.

I let my trembling lips flatten in a smile. “Yeah. I could use sitting down, though.”

He walks me to a bench and kneels in front of me, then passes me a bottle of water.

As I take a sip, his fingers rub my knee over my dress. “Do you need to take your pills?”

I nod and start to retrieve them with a shaky hand. He strokes my hand, bringing my movements to a stop, and then brings out the bottle and hands me two pills.

I take them and remove my glasses, letting them fall onto my lap.

My heart rate slows down to normal after a while, even though my fingers are grasping the bottle of water in a death grip.

“Better?” he asks, his fingers touching my pulse and my cheek.

I nod.

“Was it something we said? What triggered you?”

I shake my head, refusing to acknowledge the dooming reality awaiting me.

“Baby,” he says with a firm voice. “You need to tell me so I can remove the potential hazard.”

“Everything is a potential hazard for me.”

“Then I’ll remove everything.”

“Don’t be sweet. I can’t take it.”

“I’m anything but sweet. I’m a menace.”

“That you are.” I palm his cheek. “Can we go home? I want to annoy Sam a bit.”

“Should we go to a West End show later?”

“You don’t even like the theater.”

“But you do.”

And to cheer me up, he’s willing to watch things he doesn’t like.

This isn’t fair. I want the cold Eli back.

“We probably can’t get good tickets this late.”

“I can get any tickets you want. Up to and including a meet and greet with the actors backstage for hugs and pictures. Scratch that. Only pictures. No hugs.”

I smile but shake my head. “I’m not in the mood.”

“What’s this about, Ava? Is it due to your visit to Dr. Blaine?”

“How do you know? I took a taxi… She told you? Wait…you’re having me tracked.”

It’s not a question but a statement.

Ever since I woke up in the hospital, I’ve often felt that I wasn’t alone, but I deluded myself into thinking it was paranoia.

“Why?” I ask in a low tone, letting my hands fall limp on either side of me.

“I have to.” His closed-off coldness peeks through and I hate that I wished it back so soon.

“Okay…”

“Ava—”

“I get it,” I say with contained bitterness. “You’re worried I’ll go into a state of fugue and walk straight into oncoming traffic or jump off a building. So you have to make sure you know my location in order to stop it.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s not⁠—”

“You’re right. I could do it, and the worst part is that I wouldn’t be aware of it. Like the two years I completely wiped out. I’m a ticking bomb, Eli, and we both know it.”

“Nonsense. You’re absolutely fine.” He narrows his eyes. “What did Dr. Blaine tell you?”

“Nothing. She said she couldn’t talk to me without your presence.”

“And you despise that. You despise that I have any form of power over you.”

“No one likes to be a puppet, least of all me. But if it’s not you, it has to be Papa. If not Papa, Mama. If not Mama, someone else has to make sure I don’t fuck up. I realized today that I’ll never be my own person, so I’d like to eat a bucket of candy floss and watch rom-coms, please.”

“No.”

“No?”

Eli takes my hand in his. “I have a better place in mind.”