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

It’s irrational and completely asinine, but I don’t take back the words I said in the bathroom three days ago.

Eli simply ignored me, slapped me with a ‘we’ll talk about it later,’ then proceeded to sweep the entire topic under the rug.

We’ve been going to the beach, swimming, tanning, and having more sex than porn stars—mostly because I can’t get enough and I want to encourage him so I can get pregnant.

Am I being too reckless? Too unfair to the child who would live with an unstable mother?

Possibly. But I’m also desperate to engrave these moments with any method available.

I don’t care what anyone says. I know myself the best, and I can recognize that my time is limited. If I’m correct, the last time I woke up in the hospital and lost two years of my life happened after a breakdown, and judging by how drastically degenerative my state is, this time will be worse than mere amnesia.

This time, the tired branch might finally break under my weight.

So I spent the past few days savoring every moment I could get my hands on. Every view, every touch, and every activity.

We went hiking, we had picnics, and he ate my food without my having to use Sam as an excuse. So when I asked if he was okay with me cooking for him, he disclosed he knew all along it was me.

He was the one who ate a slice of my cake before I doomed it to the rubbish bin.

It’s strange to see him more relaxed and open about himself. Eli’s talked about his childhood here, his bond with his grandparents, and the pressure he put on himself early on to be the perfect heir for the King’s name.

The admission that these past few days were the only occasion he’d ever taken time off for himself made me feel so bad for him.

I’ve been absorbing everything about him, imprinting every single detail to memory and hoping, praying that the stars collide and I never forget them this time.

Today, he took me to the highest tip of a mountain to witness the most stunning sunrise.

“Here you go.” He passes me a bottle of water as I collapse on a rock beneath a massive willow tree.

“I’ll be sore as hell tomorrow,” I grumble after I nearly empty the bottle. “But it’s worth it.”

My husband drops his backpack on the uneven surface as his lips pull in a wolfish smirk.

The early morning sun slips through the tree’s leaves and casts a warm glow on his sharp features. His jet-black hair shines in a blue hue, and his eyes appear lighter like a summer cloud.

He looks hot as hell in black shorts and a tight white tee that sticks to his smooth muscles like a second skin.

“Are we talking about the hike or the way I fucked you while you were half asleep this morning?”

“Both.” I grin. “Your stamina is no joke. No idea how you could go several rounds and barely pant at the end of the hike.”

“It’s called exercise. Something you should do more of.”

“The only exercise I like is opening my legs in bed and being a princess while you do all the work. So I’ll leave the stamina workout thing to you. Please and thank you.”

He chuckles, the sound echoing around us with the sweetness of morning dew as he sits beside me. “So you’re not only a troublemaking brat, but also lazy?”

“Duh.” I lay my head on his lap, letting my feet dangle from the rock as I stare up at him. “I put a lot of mental effort into cello, so when I’m not doing that, I’d rather indulge in activities that require no effort whatsoever and preferably copious amounts of endorphins.”

“Hence the rom-coms, endless shopping, and pirate romance novels.”

“Not pirates. Bodice rippers.”

“Bodice what?”

“Rippers. You know because they rip bodices off their women? Hey! Sort of like you. They’re toxic, too. You should read them sometime and consider therapy.”

“No, thanks.”

“You’re no fun.” I pout. “They often end in pregnancies, you know. Romance novels, I mean. It’s not realistic since not everyone in love or who gets married in real life has kids or even wants them, but we read romance for escapism not realism, so everyone accepts the conventional wisdom that every happy couple needs little devils in their lives.”

“I see.”

“I see? That’s all you’re willing to offer?”

“What else do you want me to offer?”

“That mythical ‘we’ll talk about it later,’ maybe? How far away is later? A week? A month? Preferably a few days, which is now?”

He strokes my hair, his touch slow and gentle. “Didn’t we already discuss it the other time? The bit where we both recognize you’re not ready for children?”

“What if I’m never ready? Does that take the possibility of children off the table?”

“If need be.”

My chin trembles. “You’re the sixth generation of a wealthy and influential family. The only reason King Enterprises survives and thrives is because of successful heirs such as yourself. You’re telling me you don’t need one?”

“Not if it endangers you, no. I don’t need one.”

“Would Uncle Aiden agree? Your grandpa?”

“I’ll manage them. Besides, there’s always Creigh, Lan, Bran, and Glyn to keep the family registry going.”

“But what about you? Surely, you want a child of your own, and I want one, too, so we can do that even if I don’t get to raise him or her myself⁠—”

“No.” The word leaves him in a deep, firm voice. “I will not have children at the expense of your health.”

“But you told Papa you’d give him grandchildren.”

“I was just messing with him. I wasn’t serious.” He pauses. “So that’s why you were triggered. You heard me and Dad talk about children and you started overthinking.”

“Why wouldn’t I? At that time, I realized you might go heirless because of me, and I don’t like being your weakness. I don’t like being anyone’s weakness.”

His fingers stroke my cheek. “You’re not.”

“That would be so sweet if I believed you,” I say with bitterness. “Just say you’ll consider it, please.”

“Only if you’re safe to be pregnant.”

“That’s good enough.” I grab onto his arm. “How did you know I want three children?”

“You mentioned it in your confession letter.”

My lips fall open. “W-w-what do you mean by confession letter?”

“The one you wrote to me about six years ago.”

“No…no way. I threw that away.”

“I found it.”

“And you read it?”

“Quite possibly.”

“Oh God…this is so embarrassing.” I hide my eyes with both hands. “Please tell me you only remember the three-children part?”

“Dear Eli.” He speaks in a nonchalant voice. “You’re probably wondering why I’m writing you this letter, but I had to put these feelings on paper and hope they’ll somehow reach you. You see, I’ve had a major crush on you for years, but you always treated me like a kid who’s not worth your time. It kind of hurt, but I understand that you’re six years older than me, and it’s both weird and creepy for you to like or even notice someone way younger than you. So I bided my time and waited for this moment to tell you how much I like you.

“Actually, I think I’m a little in love with you. Whenever I see you, I get these butterflies and feel like I’m in the presence of a god, and I want nothing more than to worship and spin in your orbit for eternity. All you have to do is treat me like your goddess and I promise I’ll stand by your side forever.

“I might not be as mature and sophisticated as the women you’re familiar with, but I’m growing up and I’m way more fashionable and stylish, just saying. Your mum is also my godmother and we love each other so much, so we’ll be like the coolest mother and daughter-in-law. You’re welcome for the lack of conflict in the future and the fact that you’ll be marrying someone of your status.

“You might need to work hard to get Papa’s acceptance but I’ll help! He looks stern and all, but really, he can’t resist my puppy eyes. I’m not saying we should get married now, but maybe in three or four years after I finish uni.

“FYI, I want three children, preferably two girls and a boy. The girls’ names will be Sierra and Zoey. I’ll leave the boy’s name to you. I also want two dogs and three cats or three dogs and two cats. I’m open to negotiation as long as it’s within that ratio. You can take your time to fall in love with me from here on. I’ll wait for as long as it takes.

“P.S. I need to disclose something so you’re not blindsided. I’m sure you heard from Aunt Elsa or our mutual friends that I suffer from anxiety and depression, but in reality, it’s a bit worse than that and I might need a little monitoring. However, I swear I’m mostly self-sufficient, and I’m following this new therapy plan that I’m sure will work. You have nothing to worry about. The future love of your life you now know exists. Ava.”

Oh. My. God.

Can the earth open up and swallow me? Now would be great, thanks.

I peek at him through my fingers to find him staring at me as if he didn’t just recite my stupid letter word for word.

“Why the hell did you learn it by heart?” I ask, trying and failing not to sound strangled.

“I have a good memory.”

“You only did that to torment and embarrass me.”

“I wasn’t the one who wrote that.”

“Ugh. Let me die in shame.”

He laughs as he removes my hands from my face. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m fully aware I’m irresistible.”

“Get over yourself.” I prod his abs. “Besides, I was totally over you after that.”

“Which is why you proceeded to vie for my attention at uni?”

“Yeah, well, if I didn’t already have your attention, I wouldn’t have exploited it.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s true! You were everywhere.” I narrow my eyes. “You know, I always thought you wanted to torment me for having the audacity to like you or something, but now that I think about it, you’re not the type of person who wastes time on anything without a return on his investment. So why did I have your attention?”

“It started as mild interest. A mere thought about taking advantage of your weaknesses so I could use them against you down the line. Nothing personal. I do that to everyone. And believe me, I found a galore of faults, discrepancies, and dangerous nonchalance that I could crush you with if I chose to. You were chaotically impulsive and pathologically trusting. Two traits that would’ve led you to an early grave.”

“And what stopped you from pushing me to said grave?”

“Unlike what you liked to believe, I never hated you prior to or after your confession. No offense, but you held no importance to me. You were merely the kid Mum liked to dote on. I had no reason to develop any feelings for you. Though I do remember being inexplicably annoyed with your presence when we were children and might’ve tripped or pushed you down just because I could. That was possibly because I hated sharing my parents, and Mum cared about you too much for my liking. However, things changed as soon as you got into university.”

“In…what sense?” I ask, trying not to sound hurt that he never even thought about me before, but then again, it’s true that he never saw me any differently than Cecy and Glyn.

“You started to antagonize me. Repeatedly. I’m sure you can tell I’m not the type of man who can be provoked. By anyone. Least of all, the kid who didn’t look like a kid anymore and who certainly did not dress like a kid in those nightclubs. So that mere interest grew into deeper investment the more you and Lan plotted against me. I had to retaliate. You retaliated back. Before I knew it, that interest morphed into raw obsession and mysterious possession. I didn’t understand the reasons and couldn’t find a logical explanation, considering I genuinely found you infuriating and not controllable material. Nonetheless, I made the decision that you couldn’t be with anyone else. So I married you.”

“Is that all you ever felt toward me? Obsession and possession?”

“Of course not. There’s always been constant fucking annoyance.”

“Gee, thanks. And they say romance is dead,” I joke even though a part of me shatters against the broken edges of my stupid heart.

That idiot can’t seem to take a hint and keeps attempting to heal itself from scraps.

I should know by now that Eli is capable of care, but not of love. He’s able to provide me with whatever I need—companionship and protection included—, as long as I don’t ask for his nonexistent heart.

And for some reason, that hurts worse than I would have thought.

Because as much as I try to hold on to the illusion, I can see it breaking before my eyes.

And the man I love will probably shove me aside and get on with his life down the line as I rot away with the passage of time.

Two days later, we go home. Mainly because Eli’s called in for a work-related emergency and I want to mourn the death of the hope that my husband will ever love me.Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

He likes me just fine, but he can’t love me.

I’m busy playing the cello for the fourth consecutive hour in preparation for a possible competition. I just need to take one final chance so that whether I succeed or blow it, I’ll have no regrets.

My phone vibrates on the glass coffee table. I pause, the mellow sound fading away as I look at the mural clock. Quarter past eight.

Leo said they’d probably be late today and that I should have dinner, but I have no appetite. No matter how many of my favorite dishes Sam cooked. Something she let me know she despised as she shook her head and left me in peace.

I grab my phone and frown at the unknown number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Ava, it’s me.”

“Vance? Where’s your old number?”

“I suspect it was blocked from your side.”

“I didn’t block you.”

“Then your husband did.”

“Oh.”

“Like he got me kicked off UK soil, for criminal charges. I’m in the airport before the travel ban takes place.”

“C-criminal charges? What the hell is going on?”

“I told you he’s insane, Ava. Listen, I couldn’t in good conscience leave without telling you what he did.”

I stand up, holding my phone in a death grip. “I don’t want to hear about my previous therapist or whatever he did to them⁠—”

“It’s about what he did to you!”

“M-me?” My heart lunges and sweat breaks out on my spine.

“Remember your friend Oliver from uni?”

“Yeah. He’s somewhere in South America.”

“No. He went MIA, but if what I gathered from Gemma and the others is correct, I’m pretty sure Eli was involved.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Because you married Eli quickly and without explanation right after Oliver disappeared. There has to be something there. I believe he’s threatening or blackmailing you.”

My grip loosens on the phone and it falls on the table as everything rushes back in.