Instead, I realize I'm in someone's arms, not in bed at all but sitting in the plush armchair before the fireplace.
The flames dance hypnotically, casting the room in a warm golden glow that contrasts sharply with the darkness of my dreams. The heat radiating from the fire creates a blanket of comfort, while being cradled in strong arms seems to have kept the worst of my panic at bay.
Confusion washes over me as I lean back slightly, trying to see the face of whoever holds me so tenderly.
I need a minute or two, blinking and staring at features that should be instantly familiar but somehow aren't connecting properly in my mind. It's like looking at a photograph that's slightly out of focus — I know I should recognize what I'm seeing, but the details refuse to align into someone I know.
My movement seems to stir him from his own light slumber. His eyes slowly open, the action softening his already handsome face even further before he blinks away his confused daze and meets my gaze directly.
I must look as perplexed as I feel because his expression shifts into a concerned frown. He moves with deliberate gentleness, slowly raising his hand to press against my cheek.
The touch doesn't frighten me —it feels right, familiar, safe—but my lingering silence must worry him.
"Sweet Canary," he whispers, the nickname falling from his lips with tender familiarity.
That single endearment acts like a key turning in a lock. Suddenly, the mental fog clears and I know exactly who he is, recognition flooding through me with such force that I'm left wondering how I could have possibly failed to know him instantly.
What the...that was...weird?
"Ares?" I question, immediately hating how uncertain my voice sounds, how I've managed to make his name into a question when it should be as familiar to me as my own. "Uh...that was odd."
His frown deepens, both hands now cupping my face as he studies me with growing concern.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asks, thumbs gently brushing across my cheekbones as his eyes search mine for answers.
"I'm fine," I assure him, though uncertainty lingers in my tone. "I was perfectly normal earlier...maybe it's the sleep or the drugs or something but I kind of struggled to figure out who you were just now."
"Yes, it may be the drug," Ares continues, but he doesn't seem 100% convinced which makes me smirk before leaning in to whisper against his lips.
"Why? Would you be mad if I forgot about you?"
The way he pouts is actually cute on his attractive face, before he pinches my nose.
"Ow!"
"I rebuke whatever you just put out there in the world."
I gasp and look at him in confusion.
"What? Rebuke what?"
He answers firmly, "You not remembering me. I rebuke it."
I snicker, shaking my head at his absurdity.
"Where in the fuck did you hear that terminology?"
"On the fucking radio as we drove here," he answers with exasperation. "You already know I wasn't in charge of the fucking music because I had to sit in the back."
I laugh, picturing the scene all too clearly.
"Let me guess. Marcus driving and Matteo calmly sitting in the passenger seat?"
Ares groans and shakes his head.
"It was Aries driving."
The name makes me frown as I tilt my head, trying to understand. "Aries? Why did he come? Did you guys ask a favor?"
