Ares did not plea for mercy. He would not beg like a loser, submit to the witch so he could have sex on his wedding night. He would not, especially in front of Luna. But nor did he threaten her.
He would not acknowledge Luna's existence ever again, in voice, in thought, in deed. He did not look at her now, his eyes fixed on Hecate, fists clenched.
"I need to consummate my marriage," he snarled. "My wife won't be pleased."