Ares eyed me as he sipped from the glass, his words leaving a long-lasting impression.
It was at the tip of my tongue to ride on and call him names he would find unpleasant, but I chewed the inside of my mouth to keep from doing that.
Damn it, Catherine! Why do you always feel the need to tick him off?
I seriously want to right now, even though I wasn't in the mood. There was just this excitement to get him worked up, maybe because I craved something other than Mister Ice.
"I-I'm always at the feet of trouble. My Gramps' words, not mine," I replied in a raspy tone, choosing my words carefully.
I made the mistake of dipping my gaze to watch the shirt fight to stay put with every stir. He certainly wasn't doing this intentionally, but my mind made it so, as if spiking the unholy desires to take over and drown me.
Ares' hand dropped to his side, the ice making soft tingles. "Maybe he's right. You have a thing for trouble."
