Freya's POV
Could It Be Jealousy
To the left of the entrance is the kitchen, straight ahead is the living room, and a narrow staircase winds up to what I assume is the bedroom.
“Want some mead?” Ares asks, giving me a look that’s equal parts invitation and dares.
I shrug, following him over to the open kitchen. “Sure.”
“Got a preference? Honey mead or blackberry?”
“Honey.”
“Good choice. Honey mead it is,” he says, pulling out a bottle that looks like it’s been around since the Viking days. It’s rich amber, the label faded and peeling. He opens a cabinet and takes out two goblets, filling them with practiced ease, then hands one to me. I slide onto a barstool across the counter, watching him.
Ares raises his glass, his eyes meeting mine with a hint of mischief. “To a long, wild nig
