Spartan Heart, Part One

by Kristine Cheney

  Helpless, she timbered towards the ground. Closing her eyes tight, she braced for the slam of pain. But something cold embraced her before everything went black.

  Chapter Four

  Dorien analyzed the woman’s thoughts. The amplified effects of intoxication took him by surprise. Intense emotions of loss and pain were fresh and vivid, almost to the point of being unbearable. He filtered through her memories. Her life flashed before him like a picture show. The girl was too easy to read. Her feelings were raw and grated. It was obvious she had suffered recent loss. Her parents. The woman carried enough guilt for a legion of men. Searching harder, Dorien found the source of what he was looking for: An argument. A forced decision. Separation. Anger. Unexpected loss. Overwhelming regret. With better understanding, he withdrew from her mind.

  But he couldn’t stop staring at her. The woman before him was not only beautiful…she was stunning. Dorien tried to think of a better word. Nothing was adequate. Sizing her up, he admired her medium height and healthy stature. She had the face and body of a goddess. Almond shaped eyes were the color of fiery copper. Weary and sad, they were shadowed by the blow of loss. Where had he seen their rare color before? Disregarding the question, he didn’t care to place it. He was too immersed in her.

  Her perfect small pert nose held him captive. Juicy bee-stung lips made him think of long, demanding kisses. Her face was young and delicate. Long blonde hair hung to the middle of her back, thick with curls. What would it feel like to run his fingers through the length of its silky softness? The color was so rich, a lustrous shade of blonde. It reminded him of the goldest wheat ready to be threshed. Large round breasts were full and perked, their ripe curves teased from the neckline of her dress. The valley between them wasn’t much. Amply pushed together, they promised to overflow from the bounty of his hands. Her hips were strong, begging for breeding. Something his culture had always put such faith in. With a wicked sigh, he acknowledged it would take hours to love her proper.

  Dorien groaned. Never had a woman looked so delicious in a little white dress. It made his imagination run wild. Thin wispy straps rested on soft bare shoulders, holding the sheer fabric to her body. He desired to lift that garment high and cup her buttocks. What would it feel like to glide his fingertips over the expanse of her velvet-like flesh? How would this beauty look lying in his arms? The explicit scenario only ravaged his mind. He groaned to himself in tortured agony.

  Why was he thinking like this? Logic only spoke truth. If he were smart, he would stop all of this madness and force away these cruel visions. Yet, here he was, aching from the relentless contractions of tense chorded muscles. He was well aware of his reaction to her presence. His current predicament was sobering. It helped him wrestle his body under control. Here, passionate thoughts were pointless. Unsated lust was destined to be his only partner. It was time to be realistic and face the facts. He would accept the simple gift of watching her. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Dorien still couldn’t deny it. He would give up his existence to touch her.

  He didn’t mind the screech of chair legs grating against the tiles. It had been a long time since his eyes last rested on the delicate curves a woman. The beauty reached for him. He watched in awe, frozen and waiting for her next move. Holding an unnecessary breath, her sleek, graceful arms reached towards him slow. He was drowning in eager anticipation. The consummating contact of her touch rocked his soul back, sending electrified jolts of lightning coursing into his core.

  The sting of static-filled aftershocks left Dorien’s body humming. How had he survived her storm of feathery touches dancing over the surface of his hard exterior shell? Blatant admiration of his physical attributes made his heart soar. It made him feel like a man. Erotic pleasure consumed him, making him ache for more. Satisfied with the girl’s reaction, she wouldn’t escape their meeting unaffected. Her body responded to the union of their touch. The galloped beat of her heart quickened in response to the coldness of his outer skin. The spreading rise of tiny goose bumps covered the expanse of her flesh. Dorien was rewarded with the perfect view of her pert breasts straining against the dress’ delicate fabric. This small token was indeed adequate payment. Surely his marble exterior would crack and fall into a pile of crushed rubble at her feet.

  Reading her thoughts, he knew she was going to kiss him. To wait for the impact of her lips was as torturous as waiting for the cry of battle to commence. Dorien inhaled deep, memorializing the aromatic twang of blueberries, orange blossoms, and ale that filled his senses. But there was something more to the girl’s scent than he could put his finger on. Unique and strong, it rocked him. She permeated him completely.

  She had to taste as delicious as she smelled. He groaned to himself in bittersweet agony. The scent of her body was addicting. He loved the taste of her breath. Captured and ensnared, he was a prisoner. A willing slave to this unknown power, he couldn’t help but wonder. Was this woman created by the Heavens to compliment his existence? His body ached to possess her. Primal urges promised only his claim would tame her. But it had to be a lie for fate was cruel. Knowing he could never have her felt worse than his physical death. Without her, death had to be better. This minx was driving him to the brink of madness. Demona must have sent her to finish him off.

  Dorien closed his eyes and searched for distraction. But none would come. By her thoughts, she was affected, too. Her soft cheek brushed across his lips. A gentle teaser, Dorien relished the salty taste of her tears. Her eyes were soulful. They gazed up at him in wonder. The color of her eyes was so much deeper…much more intense. Would their hue change if she were full of passion? Dorien clenched imaginary fists. He forced himself to forget the question. For now, she acted as if his presence was real.

  The girl’s lips were baby soft. They brushed slowly over his mouth in passion. He shuddered in pleasure. It felt so good to feel her body press flush against him. The kiss of bee-stung lips lingered. Her breath seeped deep and hot, trailing into the depths of his throat and chest. Her warm tongue felt good against the edge of his bottom lip. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he didn’t want just a taste of her honey. What he wanted was the whole honeycomb.

  Her attention to detail was thorough, lacking nothing. Had she ever been this close to a man before? Dorien dismissed the temptation to search for the answer. He didn’t want to know. The thought of another man touching her made him feel agitated and possessive. Jerking away from his feelings, he gritted his teeth in affliction. Why should he care about this stranger who invaded his room and thoughts? He had been cursed for too long. A woman never got under his skin. Never on first glance. Leonidas once confided that a single glance was all it took for him to fall in love with his Gorgo.

  Yes! The eyes!

  Gorgo’s stare was the same color of copper.

  Dorien admired his brother’s decision to remain loyal to one woman. But the idea was contrary to Spartan practice. Straying from the marriage bed in the name of strong breeding was not only expected; it was encouraged. The quest to bear strong, healthy children for the common wealth of Sparta outweighed any desire to remain loyal to a spouse.

  It was no wonder Dorien and Leo held such monogamous convictions. Their father had led by a different example. He had refused to cast their mother aside when the Elders thought her barren. Like his brother and father, Dorien felt the same convictions. He could never sit idle, allowing another man to bed his wife. Nor would he tolerate the sharing of her womb for the bearing of another man’s seed.

  But women of Sparta preferred the openness of Spartan sexual tradition. Not one had shared his ideals. Because of this, he chose to remain single. Leaving Sparta had been a good choice for so many different reasons.

  But now he was here, centuries later. He wanted nothing more than to claim this woman as his own. What would it feel like to lie beside her? What he wouldn’t give to hear her whisper his name. Oh, he would make this little minx pay all right. He would punish her for being an endless barrage to hi
s senses. She was lucky he was imprisoned and locked in this stone. Otherwise, he would take her, consume her…possess her.

  Right now.

  The beauty pulled away. Disappointment and relief washed over him simultaneously. The warmth of her body was gone. There were no more sweet kisses dancing on his lips. In an instant, he was lost without her touch.

  Waves of heat crept down Dorien’s throat. Stabbing pain filled his chest. He sucked in air as if his body were full of arrows. Invisible fires ignited, spreading to every part of his body. Feeling the brink of combustion, his mind screamed in agony. Muscles, flesh, tendons, and nerves stretched cruel, twisting without mercy. He felt the pull of flesh being ripped from his bones. Memory of this pain was familiar. It was much like the day he had slipped into immortality. This only reminded him of the day he tried to forget.

  He should have died on the battlefield in Minoa. The Oracle Demona sent her minions to watch for his fall, making him drink of the nectar of Ambrosia. A cloaked woman tended him shortly after he drank. She brought him pleasure only moments before he turned to stone. Trapped in a prison of marble, his body had been rolled into the ground. Thuds of shoveled earth buried him alive. His statue was discovered and brought to the museum in the summer of 1918. His whole existence was an unnatural state. Immortality heightened every one of his senses. He could read the minds of others. Sight, hearing, touch, and sense of smell were all acute. But it was only because he was cursed.

  Dorien placed every ounce of concentration on the girl. But every sound was drowned out by the white snow of pain. What if he never saw her again? The idea only intensified his agony. Thoughts of this woman leaving his side made him wish for certain death. How could a stranger walk into a room and change everything?

  Distraction wasn’t coming easy. Dorien searched the plains of her face. Placid veneer changed in an instant. Her expression contorted in fear. Panic filled her eyes. Their color became lost in dilation. She was consumed by desperation. Her high-pitched cry of alarm penetrated his soul.

  Rocking back and forth, she fought for balance. Knowing her dilemma, his little sprite was going to fall. In instinct, he lunged to catch her. The pain still warred strong. But the burning throughout his body was receding. A sudden burst of air filled his chest. Frozen muscles began to move. His body was falling in her direction.

  Dorien tumbled towards the ground. He opened his arms, pulling his prize into the safety of his chest. Rolling onto his back, he grunted out of mortal habit. His body struck the floor, absorbing the shock of their fall. Loud crashes were boisterous, rumbling like thunder. Shield, helmet and weapons clattered against tile. Smiling in triumph, Dorien rolled the beauty on to her back. He lay still as he hovered above her. Savoring every moment, he gazed into the most beautiful face he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. It was different to look upon her; no longer cursed to look through the eyes of a statue. The feel of her body registered. It was Heaven to touch her skin with his fingers. Her velvety flesh was somehow softer and warmer than before.

  Her lids were closed. Fair lashes were almost long enough to brush against her skin. Dorien ached to see the sparkling brilliance of her eyes. Muscled arms tightened and gave her a gentle squeeze. Despite repeated attempts, the woman wouldn’t stir. Her body was limp and unresponsive. Fighting a wave of panic, his neck and chest tightened. Worry for her person roiled sick in his gut.

  Dorien stared at her hard. He searched every inch of her body. Bending arms and knees, nothing appeared bruised or broken. Searching her thoughts, he found no sense of pain or discomfort. It was with sweet relief when he released a held breath. The girl was only asleep. Knowledge of her safety brought a smile of satisfaction to his face. Perhaps he could take a moment to ponder the question plaguing his mind.

  How had she set him free?

  Was it the salt of her tears? The ache of her loneliness? The delicious seal of her breath-filled kiss? Perhaps it didn’t matter how she had done it. Regardless, he would never forget the favor. If anything, he would find a way to repay her.

  The shuffled sounds of footsteps regressed Dorien into native battle instinct. Nose in the air, he inhaled a whiff. He tasted the danger. His opponent was male. Instincts fired in alarm. He could sense the man’s loathing rage.

  They had to retreat.

  Dorien searched the room for escape. There was no choice but to take the woman back from where she had come. Scanning the east wall, he located the door she had left ajar. Placing his helmet on his head, Dorien swung his shield and spear over his back and slid his knife and sword into their sheaths. Collecting the beauty into his arms, he then slipped inside the pitch-black passageway. The door closed behind him without a sound.

  Cold air rushed all around him. His immortal vision adjusted in an instant; he could still see in the dark. A soft light beckoned from the opposite end of the tunnel. He marveled at the extensive power of his sight. Perhaps an immortal life, outside a frozen state, wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Waiting inside the passage, the stranger entered the Treasure Recovery Room. Proceeding with care, Dorien stole a gaze at the beauty in his arms. He was half-tempted to wake her; he had no idea where he was going. But Dorien caught himself in a lie. That wasn’t the only reason. What would her reaction be to his presence? Primal instinct was a battle. Soft curves were torture, crushing against him. Her angelic face nuzzled into his chest and forced an unnecessary breath to catch.

  Dorien froze. His head jerked upright. Shrieks of anger filled his senses. He read the invader’s mind and growled in reaction. The man knew his statue was missing. How did the stranger know this woman had freed him of his curse? Hateful thoughts conspired to hunt her like an animal. Intention promised the beauty would pay with her life. Dorien searched the twisted evil mind and easily found his name. He would investigate this man who called himself Phebus.

  With a sigh of relief, Dorien relaxed. The man had no knowledge of the passage. Dorien ran in a flash. He reached the end of the cold damp tunnel. A warm rush of air filtered through the cracked passage door. He surveyed for any sign of danger but found none. Closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help but squeeze the lady in his arms. She stirred lazily.

  “Woman! Where is your room?”

  “Upstairs,” she whispered in her thoughts.

  She nuzzled back into the safety of his chest. Her warm breath swirled in provocation over his skin. Dorien groaned. Raising an eyebrow, he wasn’t sure if it was out of pleasure or frustration. He rolled his eyes in resignation and decided it was both.

  Chapter Five

  Dorien ran up the stairs. Battle senses shifted into high alert. Watchful for any sign of danger, he felt confident for their security and entered the main floor. The home’s splendor and decadent furnishings took him off guard. Was the beauty in his arms of royal blood? Could she be someone’s bride?

  Nay! He would have felt her attachment to a man. Nonetheless, he still sighed in relief. Passing through the living room, he was startled by the loud rings of noise belting from a strange black object. Dorien found it quite annoying. If not for the girl in his arms, he would have loved to run his blade through it. Taking a step back in shock, he couldn’t believe what he heard. How could there be someone else with the girl’s voice?

  “You’ve reached Evangeline. I’m not home, so if you’ll please leave a message, I’ll get back to you soon. Cheerio!”

  He heard a beep, followed by a woman’s unfamiliar voice.

  “Hey, Evan, it’s Taryn! You left your jacket in my car. Since I know it’s your favorite, I’ll return it to you tomorrow. I realize how hard it must have been for you to go out tonight. You did it for me. I had a great time and hope you at least had a little bit of fun. I love you, my friend!”

  What in Hades just happened?

  There had been some drastic changes since he was last mortal! Whatever it was, he didn’t want it to happen again.

  “Evangeline.”

  Her name on his lips felt
like paradise. He couldn’t believe his luck. The beauty had a Greek name, fitting for this golden, Greek goddess.

  Dorien climbed the massive flight of stairs. Evangeline lay limp in his arms. Feeling jovial, he skipped three steps at a time. Stopping halfway, the staircase dramatically split. He was left with the choice of ascending east or west. With the help of Evangeline’s memories, he continued towards the east wing. He grinned in victory as he reached the large wooden door at the end of the hall. It had to be hers.

  The heavy mahogany door opened without a sound. Dorien stood in awe, surprised at the sight of such elegant décor. Even as a prince of Sparta, his people were modest and simple. They didn’t allow for such luxuries. Every room in this house was more decadent than any palace court.

  Carnal thoughts were forced aside. He admired the massive, old world four-poster bed. Its violet and gold jewel-colored covering was regal. Large over-stuffed pillows were inviting. Majestic nightstands stood on both sides of the bed. A velvet, gold, chaise lounge beckoned at the foot. Colorful tapestries and paintings graced every wall. He appreciated the mirrored triple dresser and boisterous armoire. Spotting the huge stone fireplace, its presence enhanced the room. The warmth of a fire would fill this chamber with a tranquil, seductive ambience.

  Dorien froze and gasped out loud. Sight of his reflection was caught in the mirror. Gazing upon the cast of a stranger, how many years had it been since he last looked upon his own face? He shook his head. The only thing pressing him this moment was Evangeline’s comfort. Laying her on the mattress, Dorien flinched. His chest felt the impact of a physical blow.

  Her lips were blue!

  Wet from head to toe, Evangeline’s tender flesh was covered in goose bumps. Honey-wheat strands of saturated hair stuck to her face and shoulders. Her teeth chattered hard, almost enough to break. Her body shook in a responsive effort to warm itself. Dorien had been a fool! How had he not noticed? He should have paid close attention to her mortal needs!