by Amy Ruttan
Her husband was a coward at heart, and it would not take much for him to flee from Antioch. Her husband did not stay in one place for very long.
“My lady.” The runner bowed and held out a scroll.
“Thank you.” Reaching into the pocket of her stola, she fished out a small coin for the young boy who ferried the message to her. The boy bowed again and took off running toward the center of the city.
Breaking the seal, she read Thelonius’ hurriedly scribbled words. Crumpling the papyrus scroll in her fist, she tossed it into the hearth of their home, which always burned despite the heat, and cursed under her breath.
Damn him.
Walking to the window, she saw Eratos in the garden. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted him. He was pacing in the garden, along the far wall that bordered the cliff. He was pacing like a caged lion, hungry for its prey. Every night Eratos waited in the garden for news of Thelonius’ return.
Helena took a deep breath, smoothing out the creases of her stola as she made her way outside and toward him. He was staring off over the city as the sun began to set, his brow wrinkled, deep in thought.
“He is not returning?” he asked, not looking at her.
“No, he remains away again tonight.” Helena sighed. “He is frightened.”
“Aye, it pleases me, but it is not enough.” Eratos cursed out loud. An ancient word of his people, she could only assume. He ran his hands over his head before his gaze settled on her. The fire of his anger softening as their eyes locked.
“What will you do?”
Eratos inclined his head toward the city. “Drive him out of every brothel and bath if I have to. Haunt his every step at night until he returns here, where I shall finish him off.”
“Well, you do not have to search every house of ill repute. I know where he is. He’s staying at Assam’s Pleasure House.” Helena turned away and gazed out over the city. Eratos came up behind her, slipping his arms around her. She leaned back against his chest.
“Anam cara, what is wrong?”
“I worry for you. I worry you will not return tonight.”
He turned her around to face him. Helena fought back the choking tears that threatened to spill as he took her hand and kissed it, sending a shiver of delight through her. “I will return to you, Helena, I will not break my promise.”
“I know you won’t. You are a man of honor. It is not you I worry about… Thelonius is an evil man and is well protected—”
Eratos silenced her lips with a tender kiss that made her melt. He pulled her close to him and she laid her head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Know this, anam cara, I will return.”
“You promise?” It was foolish. He could not control the hands of the fate, but asking it made her feel better.
“Aye. I promise. I will return.”
“I know. I fear for you. Be careful.”
He smiled at her and ran his knuckles down her cheek. “I will always return for you, anam cara.” With one final kiss he ran toward the alleyway at the edge of her garden and disappeared into the shadows.
Helena stared out over the city, the lights from thousands of torches. The Imperial Palace glowing, but vacant as the emperor tried to restore Rome to her former glory. The Rome she knew was gone—her life of solitude was all over. All she could think about, all she lived for now was Eratos.
She couldn’t lose him. Helena knew she would not survive without him and knew if they failed, or if Eratos lost his life, what she would have to do. What her father had done before the Praetorian Guard had come and finished him off.
Slit his wrists and faced death like a warrior.
Perhaps she would not be allowed to enter Elysia like she was sure where her father ended up. Maybe for plotting murder she would end up in Tartarus, but either way, when she faced her judgment she would then forget about Eratos.
Letting out a long sigh, she stared up at the sky and thought of the stars she had watched the other night with Eratos. How she would love to be a falling star, shooting across the sky for all eternity. Something beautiful and treasured. Free from pain, free from fear and the mortal confines of this earth.
But she would only consider it if Eratos was by her side. If she could not have her Celtic warrior, then she would rather spend all eternity being tortured by the Furies, which was exactly what awaited Thelonius.
* * * * *
Assam’s Pleasure House was located in the seediest district of Antioch. As soon as Helena had told him the name, Eratos had known exactly where it was located. His stomach twisted and turned with apprehension as he stood in the shadows, cloaked, just watching the house for a long time—observing the patrons who freely came and went.
You can do this.
Yet his body trembled as he stared at the large center block in Antioch. It was an unassuming place, fashioned the same way as many of the buildings, only inside nightmares took place for some. Thelonius had brought him here. A fine sheen of sweat broke across his brow, and he gripped the handle of the sword safely ensconced under the folds of his robe.
Do not be a coward.
As he scanned the marketplace he noticed Thelonius’ hired guards relaxing in the souk.
How odd indeed.
It was so unlike Thelonius to be unguarded, especially when the fool was frightened. Steeling his resolve, Eratos took a step forward, forcing himself to walk toward the main doors. Assam, the greedy owner of the pleasure house, was at the door collecting money.
“Can I help you, kind sir?” Assam asked, the scent of garlic assailing Eratos’ senses.
“Thelonius,” Eratos answered gruffly.
“Ah, well, that can be difficult. The privacy of my patrons is of the upmost importance to me.”
Eratos pulled out three gold coins. Coins that he had pilfered off a dead senator during the great fire of Rome, coins given by the Emperor Nero to those he favored. Assam’s eyes lit up, the lust for gold burning in his coal-black eyes. Eratos held the coins just out of reach.
“He has the finest suite at the farthest reaches of my house.” Eratos dropped the coins in Assam’s outstretched palm. Assam bowed. “Enjoy your stay, master.”
Eratos recoiled at the title that had been bestowed on him, even just briefly.
Call me master, my warrior.
Shaking his head, he tried to dispel Thelonius from his mind. Never again would he allow another to control him, to rule over him, to hold him against his will.
Thankfully, Assam was just like all the other typical Roman bath owners who were easily influenced by a gold coin or two. They held their client’s privacy only by the worth of money in their pocket. Even if they proclaimed the contrary.
He kept his cloak on as he passed through the sweltering confines of the bathhouse. From private rooms he could hear the moans of pleasure as others sought their comfort.
It made him think of Helena, but he had to wipe the thought of spending the night in her arms away. He had come here for one purpose, and that was to drive Thelonius from his hiding spot. Besides, he would never bring Helena to a place like this. To Eratos it was almost sacrilegious to bring such a delicate beautiful flower to a place such as this.
The owner had told him Thelonius had the finest chamber in the farthest reaches of the house. No guards accompanied him as the owner did not allow violence in his house.
Perfect.
There would be no one to bother him. He wanted to make his message clear. As he approached the room a servant, a young half-naked man, moved toward him with drying cloths.
“Boy,” Eratos whispered. The young man approached and Eratos placed a gold coin in his palm. “Allow me.”
The young man’s face lit with pleasure and he nodded and ran off. Eratos held the drying cloths in one hand and knocked on the door.
“Come,” Thelonius bellowed from the other side of the door.
Eratos took a deep breath and prayed Thelonius was alone. For if he was tormenting someo
ne, Eratos knew without a doubt he would break his word to Helena and kill Thelonius in this bathhouse.
Eratos slipped through the blanket of steam, which obscured his vision, but he caught sight of Thelonius lounging in the hot bath, his back to him as he ate grapes from a plate on the edge.
“Are those the towels I requested?” Thelonius asked, not turning to look.
“Aye,” Eratos whispered, mimicking the sound of the young man’s voice.
“Then bring them here.” Thelonius snapped his fingers and Eratos gritted his teeth as he silently padded over to the edge of the bath. Eratos knelt down, Thelonius continued to pick grapes and pop them into his mouth.
Eratos pulled out a towel and wound it tight. Holding it out, he brought it down, stuffing it in Thelonius’ mouth so he could not scream.
Thelonius thrashed.
“The more you fight it, the harder I twist, and I know from the state of your breath your teeth are rotten and soft. Since image is so important to you, I know you would not want to lose any of them.”
Thelonius stopped moving.
“You know who I am?”
Thelonius shook his head that he did.
“Good. Do you know why I have come?”
Again he assented in the positive.
“Good, very good.” Eratos tied the drying cloth at the back of Thelonius’ head. “I have a blade with me and you are very familiar with how I use it after watching me fight for so long. Get out of the bath, slowly.”
Thelonius stumbled out of the bath. Eratos spied the irons Thelonius like to use when he was bleeding someone. Thelonius believed bathing in the blood of the young kept him vigorous. Holding out his sword, he pointed at the irons. “Put your hands in there, over your head.”
Thelonius’ eyes were bugged out and Eratos could tell he was terrified.
Good.
It was exactly what he was hoping for. He chained Thelonius in place, baring his back to him. He unsheathed his blade slowly, making sure Thelonius heard every inch of the sword scraping from his leather scabbard.
Walking around to the front side, he held out the short sword he had acquired from a Roman legionnaire on the night Rome burned. The night he obtained his freedom. Thelonius just stared at the metal blade, his eyes wide with fear.
“Do you know how I got this tattoo?” He pointed to his marred tattoo that had been placed there by a druid high priest the night he made his first kill, the one Thelonius had destroyed. “It was the night I hunted a wolf and killed it. A huge, wild beast. It was where I earned my name. The last connection to my home spiritually, my only tie with the wolf.” He ran the blade along Thelonius’ cheek, but did not slice the flesh. “You marred it, broke my connection to my spirit animal and for that I will make sure all will know you are a murdering pig.” He leaned forward, his voice shook. “I am going to mark you with my blade.”
His prey moaned and thrashed. Eratos broke out in a sweat, no matter how many times he had pictured doing this, he found himself fearing this moment. He was not a beast—he was not even a warrior any longer.
Then he thought of Helena, and all the pain Thelonius had caused her. He made his first cut agonizingly slow. He tuned out the muffled howls of pain coming from Thelonius. The man had a low tolerance for pain because he soon passed out, which made it easier for Eratos to finishing carving the simplified rune symbol that signified his father’s name.
When he was done he took a fistful of bath salts and tossed them onto the wound. Thelonius roused with that and hollered, thrashing wildly as the salt burned his flesh.
Eratos turned around to face him, slapping Thelonius to get him to be quiet.
“Know this, if you harm her I will never stop hunting you. Never. Even after you die I will journey to the fiery pits of your Tartarus to torment you further. Leave her be, and you will not see me again.”
Sheathing his blade, he left Thelonius strapped where he was, blood trickling down his former master’s naked body, and leapt out of the window of the bathhouse, disappearing into the darkness of Antioch.
As much as the warrior screamed for retribution, his love for Helena was more. He would let Thelonius live, if he left her be. If Thelonius did anything to harm Helena he would hunt him down across the ends of the earth and beyond.
Running as fast as he could, he tried not to think about all the times Thelonius had bled him, tortured him. Before he made it back to Helena’s he stopped and was sick. His stomach continued to churn as he staggered up to the roads toward her home.
He stumbled through the darkness until he made it back to his hiding place at the base of Helena’s garden. She was waiting for him and stood as he stumbled in. When he collapsed against the wall she put an arm around him. The tears stung at his eyes, and he did not want to cry in front of her. He did not want to show her how weak he truly was.
“Come. Let us wash him from you,” she whispered.
Nodding, he went with her. Eratos was thankful she did not ask him what he had done. She knew, and she was kind to take care of him.
By the gods he was in love with her. Deeply in love.
Yet he didn’t deserve her. He was just as sick and twisted as Thelonius, drawing blood from him. Torturing him, just as had been done to him. A moan slipped past his lips. He was a coward.
Helena led him to the back of the house. He paused. “The servants.”
“They have been dismissed for the night. I only have two, and they both reside in Antioch with their families. The only ones here tonight are you and I. Come.”
Eratos nodded and followed her to the bathhouse of the villa. The water trickling from the fountain eased his shaky nerves.
Helena began to peel the clothes from him, and then she removed her clothing. Eratos reached out and released the pins from her hair, allowing her glorious brown hair to cascade down around her shoulders.
“Anam cara, I am sorry you have to see me in my moment of weakness.”
“Hush, everything will be all right now.”
“I want you to know, I did not kill him. I will not lose your trust. Your faith in me means more than my need for blood atonement.”
She smiled and ran her fingers over his cheek. “I know that. I know. Now come.” Taking his hand, she led him down into the bath, which was surprisingly warm. When Eratos looked up he could see the night sky. Clouds skittered across the inky blackness, allowing only pockets of moonlight to escape through and light the pool. Stars twinkled where there were no clouds, thousands of stars, glittering and twinkling in the darkness. Then a cascade of them began to fall, and he thought of those he had lost. Those he had loved and he shuddered, hoping never to be watching the sky for Helena’s soul to streak across.
He submerged under the water, letting the grime and filth of the pleasure house and Thelonius wash away from him. When he broke through the surface Helena swam up behind him and began to run a sponge over his body, washing him. Eratos sank down in the water, luxuriating in the feel of Helena’s naked breasts pressed against his back, and the water trickling down over his shoulders.
“I do not deserve this kindness,” he whispered.
“Yes, you do,” she said in his ear, before wrapping her arms around his chest. “You are brave.”
“I am not.”
“You are. You faced the demon, and you are here with me.” Helena laid a gentle kiss on the side of his neck. Desire flooded through him. He turned around and pressed her against the cool tile of the pool. He lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.
Helena sighed with pleasure, and it was like music to his ears. All he wanted now was to possess her. He did not care for anything else at this moment. He just wanted to plunge deep inside the woman he loved and forget the horrors of his past.
Forget the need for revenge and death.
“Anam cara, I need you. Let me have you.”
“Yes, please, Eratos. Take me.”
He surged forward and scooped her up. Carrying her from the po
ol, he strode to her bedchamber and laid her down against the damask bedding.
“Helena, you make me forget, I—”
“Hush, no words are needed now.” Reaching down, she took his hand and placed it on her breast. Her touch was like a flame, scorching his skin, burning him with a pleasurable pain. “Touch me,” she whispered urgently.
Eratos knew he was lost to her when his hand drifted down from her breast to her belly. She cried out when his hand slipped between the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. Fire flowed through his veins at the feel of his fingers brushing her silken softness. The rough pad of his thumb began to rub the tiny nub between her folds. As much as he needed to bury himself in her tight sheath, he only wanted to bring her pleasure.
“Take me now, Eratos,” Helena begged breathlessly.
“I will not hurt you, sweet anam cara,” he said hoarsely. “I want you. I want to mate with you, but I want you to tremble with ecstasy.”
“Now, Eratos. Take me now.” She ran her fingers up the shaft before touching the head of his cock, a bead of moisture clinging to the tip. Eratos let out a hiss of pleasure.
“Helena,” he groaned. “If you keep that up, I will come now.”
“Should I stop?” she teased.
“No, do not stop.”
Eratos parted his legs and moaned as her hot, wet center brushed against his loins. A thrill of excitement thrummed through his body at the thought of being so close to her. He positioned his cock head between her slick folds. “My gods, you’re wet,” he said as he began to rub the center of her pleasure again. It thrilled him that he was the only one to touch her so intimately and make her ache with need.
Mine.
Helena reached down and she kept her eyes locked on his and she took his cock and raised her hips, slowly guiding his hard length inside her.
Eratos moaned out, throwing his head back as his hardness stretched her, filled her. He wished he could stay here forever, wrapped up in her warmth.
“Helena, oh gods.”
He could feel her legs trembling on either side of his thighs, her fingers digging into the flesh of his back.