Gladiators: House of Andromeda
Tangles and Temptation
Eris, the snake Gladiator, House of Andromeda with an animalistic twist, has been blessed by the Gods to battle the beast from the immortal Vagarius. Fully prepared to fulfill his duty, he is confounded when distraction comes in the form of an irresistible, alluring woman. His body yearns to taste her, devour her. While he is reluctant, his beast marks her and it will not share.
Kyra finds herself in Argo of Thames with no memory of her past. She is faced with the delicious temptation of sexual prowess and brute masculinity, not one but two—twins. Satisfied to have her body shared, her hand is forced by the snake. The beast entices and excites her, but also scares her. The man will not be denied. Neither will the snake. Kyra is powerless against her attraction to the man, but in order to have him, she must learn total submission.
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.
Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal
Length: 87,115 words
TANGLES AND TEMPTATION
Gladiators: House of Andromeda
India-Jean Louwe
MENAGE AND MORE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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IMPRINT: Ménage and More
TANGLES AND TEMPTATION
Copyright © 2012 by India-Jean Louwe
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-770-1
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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DEDICATION
Dedicated to my modern-day knight in shining armor, my husband and eternal love. Yes, they are all the same person.
And to my two wonderful sons, who have that unconditional, special love that can only come from children.
Also a big thank-you to my brilliant, hilarious editors, Natalie Bridges and Kathryn Butler, for making sense of my ramblings and to my talented cover artist, Harris Channing, for bringing everything magically to life.
TANGLES AND TEMPTATION
Gladiators: House of Andromeda
INDIA-JEAN LOUWE
Copyright © 2012
Prologue
The Gods made man, and man in turn made legends.
Andromeda was one such legend. She was born a noble princess of the city of Aethiopia, daughter to King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. Her fair countenance and raving beauty, however, provided fodder for her mother’s high aspirations and unbound vanity. Queen Cassiopeia boasted to one and all about the beauty of her daughter, but unfortunately her bragging was not restricted to mankind. She let loose her wagging tongue even in the holy temples, defiantly disrespecting the Gods, blatantly insulting them. A deed that could not go unheeded—unpunished.
The God of the sea, Poseidon, the recipient of the majority of the cutting insults of her biting tongue, as she constantly compared the beauty of her daughter against his own majestic daughters of the sea, called forth the vengeance of the oceans. Together with the help of other insulted Gods, he set forth his wrath upon the city of Aethiopia. It came in the form of raging seas scouring the coast, churning and spilling forth upon their shores a monster. Frantic, the desperate king and queen sought advice from their priests and oracles. There was but one—the only way to appease the anger of the Gods would be to offer a sacrifice. They must offer their virgin daughter to the sea monster.
Andromeda was stripped naked and chained to a rock deep within the sea, far from the reaches of the shoreline. She stood, trapped, and bravely awaited her fate. Fear lodged itself in the form of a lump constricting her throat, but she stared steadfastly ahead as she felt the ocean around her stir and churn with hunger for life and greed for vengeance. A sudden hush fell. The waves ceased to dip and crest. Everything calmed. And then from the foam and surf, Cetus rose. The giant squid’s eyes bulged and its razor-sharp teeth flashed dangerously as it lashed out. The vicious tentacles teased and taunted her shaking, numbed body. It roared its pleasure at the sight of her tremors of fear, splashing the water surrounding it in triumph and victory. It shook in elation with a surge of power and dominance at the sight of a mere mortal trembling before it. And then Andromeda did something unexpected, something unforgivable.
She tossed her hair arrogantly back and thrust her chin defiantly forward, straightened her shoulders, and stared the demon straight in the eyes. She stood as tall and as brave as the binding cutting into her ankles and wrists allowed. Cetus bellowed in outrage. No mortal stood a match against his might and power. Her death would be a lesson for all to learn from. One long, slimy tentacle wrapped around her throat. It squeezed. Andromeda knew she irked the beast, but she had no wish to die a coward. Her fate lay here, in the saving of her people, and she would do her duty with pride and honor. She kept that thought fiercely at the forefront of her frazzled mind as the air squeezed out of her lungs, as the life drained out of her body. She accepted.
Perseus, a prince in his own right, flying past on winged sandals, noticed the spectacle from the high skies. He swooped down with his sword firmly in hand. As his sandaled feet touched the rocky surface before the fair m
aiden, his sword arm lashed out, severing the thick tentacle. Cetus drew back its amputated limb in surprise and rage. It focused all its attention on this new threat. But Perseus was fleet and swift. He rose once again in flight, angling his body as best he could to protect the victim strapped to the rock. His sword arm moved in quick flashes, lashing out again and again at tentacles that stabbed from all directions. He was fast, and he was strong, but he was gravely outnumbered in limbs. Inevitably, his sword was finally knocked free from his grasp.
Perseus watched his sword clattered to a useless end at the feet of the bound maiden. He ducked swiftly as the tentacles now flew with renewed vigor and determination. Lashes came from all quarters, in lightning-quick succession, leaving him with no time to think—he simply reacted. He ducked a fatal blow, but unfortunately the stray blow found a mark. It struck the captive maid across the face. She hissed in pain as the leathery tip rent the tender skin across her cheek. Blood sprayed. She cried out as salt water stung the open wound. The sound sent a roar of primal rage through Perseus. He reached into the enchanted bag strapped at his waist. He had no other thought but the destruction of this bloodthirsty monster, which preyed on the innocent and weak.
He had been returning to his home from his own errand when he had come upon this unsightly incident. He now shoved his hand deep within the depths of his bag and produced the trophy of his errand. It withdrew within his tight grasp with an outraged shriek—the one mortal of the three Gorgons, the one he had slain—Medusa. He held Medusa’s head out, ignoring the stings of the fangs upon his restraining hand from the serpents writhing around it. His eyes squeezed tight, protected against the fatal stare. He turned it, face forward, to the monster. Cetus had only time to widen its eyes in horror before the deadly stare found its next victim. Perseus had used Medusa’s head just once before. Earlier that day he had aided Atlas in his burden of bearing the weight of the world upon his shoulders. But where that had been an act of mercy, this was an act solely borne of seething rage. The monster turned to a block of stone.
Much like any young swain struck by the arrow of love at first sight, he swooped down and untied the trapped girl, immediately demanding the raving beauty’s hand in marriage. And much like a fair damsel who had been saved from distress by a dashing young knight, she immediately accepted his proposal. Perseus quickly married the lovely Andromeda and promptly removed her from any further harm. He took her to his home—Argos, a distant land far removed from this dismal memory.
They lived in bliss long enough to produce their first offspring, a strong male heir, before the deeds of their past produced a fatal blowing hand to the security of their future. Perseus, in saving Andromeda, had unknowingly made public knowledge his possession of a potent weapon, the most potent weapon thus far known—Medusa’s head. While man was not ambitious enough to gain possession of this weapon, it caught the attention of the immortals. The ongoing battle for domination in the heavens attracted unwanted attention for this lethal weapon. Cronus specifically wished its possession. He had been dethroned of his seat in the heavens and cast out by the dominating Gods. And he wanted nothing more than his reinstatement. A weapon that had the power to turn anyone, even Gods, to stone was just the tool he needed. The ruling Gods, however, were cunning and intelligent. They had immediately seen to the fortifying of Cronus’s imprisonment. He was sent deep into the bowels of Tartarus—the burning hells of Hades, the underworld.
Unfortunately Cronus was an immortal with far-reaching powers and endless determination. His threat upon Perseus for the possession of Medusa’s head never ceased. It was Andromeda who stepped forward to see to the protection of her beloved husband and her new people. Her plan was elaborate, but it was effective. And although it called on much restraint from her husband, especially in the slaking of his lusty appetites, he surrendered to her whims. He loved her deeply and knew she acted only on her own love for him.
In the next seven years, Andromeda permitted Perseus admittance to her bed only once a year, on a prescribed night. In preparation for the mating, she spent a year in fasting and praying and, more importantly, the offering of a sacrifice to a specific God, Artemis, the Goddess of fertility. Each year while her object and request remained the same, her sacrifice differed. Each year their mating produced an offspring, a male stemming from her sacrifice. So for seven long years, Andromeda and Perseus starved their raging bodies for a year and feasted upon each other’s flesh for just a single night. And they produced their army to offer them protection. Adopting the idea from the Great Romans, they produced their gladiators, human but with unique strengths.
While the story of the Perseids is widely known today, there were other children, the gladiators of the House of Andromeda, whose descendants were once equally legendary but have since been forgotten. But in that time that they had been remembered, long after the passing on of these people, their legend had ruled supreme. Each new generation opened its doors to the competing amongst warriors from across the lands for one of these honored positions. The honor of becoming one of the seven named gladiators became a title many fought over and just as many died for. But these esteemed warriors were not simply chosen amongst men, they were born to this purpose, bred to fight and conditioned to win, gifted by the Gods. Upon their winning of the title, the Gods immediately showed their blessing by striking down a bolt of lightning from the heavens, marking them. They were always blessed, and they were always the best. And they were always seven.
The first gladiator, upon earning his title, bore the mark of Erpo, the snake, on his chest. He stood tall, with scythe and sickle in hands, against any threat that might come from the vast plantations stretching far beyond the naked eye. The snake upon him moved as he did, or independently when it chose, devious in motion, cunning in plot.
The second gladiator bore the mark of Skorpio, the scorpion. He lay dormant, with blades in hand, awaiting threat from the ranging mountains high enough to block out the sun at certain times of the day, shrouded with dank caves and endless tunnels. His scorpion lay deceptively low and quiet but struck, much like the lethal sting, with deadly speed.
The third bore the mark of Le’on, the lion. With axe in readiness, he watched over the natural plains strewn with sand and swirling dust. The roar of his lion was much like the character and strength of the man, savage and raw.
The fourth gladiator bore the mark of the Arkou’da, the bear. With swinging club in hand, he watched over the dense, lush forests. His blow was deadly, his crush brutal.
The fifth bore the mark of the Aeto, the eagle. His vigil remained over the high skies. He wielded his weapon, the sword, much like the eyes of his eagle, with precision and deadly accuracy.
The sixth gladiator bore the mark of the Alliga’toras, the alligator. He guarded the murky rivers and crystal lakes. Like the alligator, which is home on both land and within water, he is highly adaptable, and his chain and balls struck with the liquid speed and fluid accuracy of the alligator tail.
The last bore the mark of the Karcharia, the shark. He secured the surrounding seas, be it at rest or at storm. He wielded his weapon, the whip, much like his beast, with flexibility, ever tenacious and never stationary.
By strict adherence to their beliefs in legends, the House of Andromeda continued to rule supreme over all other houses of Rome. And more importantly, they always remained protected against the threat of invasion, especially the continued attacks from the immortal Cronus. But while a man stood tall and unbending—in solitude—in the arena, in bed, and in play, he required companionship. One by one these gladiators had learnt a foreign word—surrender. They learnt that strength need not always be brutal and great men could still be brought to their knees. Love had shown no mercy—not even to the men who had walked in the shadows of legends!
Chapter 1:
SAGA E’na
Tangles and Temptation Erpo—the snake
“Anything? I can think of naught but one thing that would guarantee me a good nigh
t’s retiring.” Kyra’s eyes blatantly caressed the bare torso displayed before her. Her eyes strayed with deliberate slowness down his flat belly to rest on the loin cloth secured tightly about his hip, nestling and cradling his obviously well-endowed precious jewels. The scorpion, every bit as alive as its bearer, stirred across the chest. The stinger came up, poised, ready to strike, returning her interested gaze once again to his wide chest.
Sappho laughed. “You are a lusty wench. I shall rephrase. Do you wish anything other than bed sport before retiring this night?”
Kyra remained still upon the kline, a high bed, wide and comfortable. She smiled at him mischievously before responding. Her tone was filled with satisfaction. “It would appear your beast agrees with me.”
A deep chuckle rumbled through the room. “Indeed, my beast is ever eager and slow in returning to slumber. You should not provoke a slumbering beast, especially considering the ordeal you have just been through. I would prefer you well rested before plying you with my loving.”
Pouting in disappointment, Kyra nodded with slow reluctance. “Perhaps you are right. After all, we do not even know my true identity beyond my name.” She frowned as she once again tried to recall even a glimmer from her past. As many times before, nothing came. Sighing in frustration, she tilted her head to the side and examined the scorpion mark upon his chest once more. “I tire my mind in trying to remember. Mayhap you would be kind in diverting my thoughts. The marking upon your chest clearly declares you as Skorpio. However, I must admit I have never before seen such a scorpion as the one displayed upon you. What is that protrusion, the extension resembling a tail?”
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