Trailing his blunt finger over the extension, Sappho answered in a curt tone, “The scorpion belongs only to me, but the tail is derived of my brother. We were both marked so when obtaining our titles as gladiators.”
Kyra narrowed her eyes, “Your relationship is not close, judging from your voice.”
Sappho shook his head. “We are extremely close.”
After a moment of silence, Kyra realized he would not be more liberal with information. “So your brother is also a gladiator? From the details of the tail, I would surmise him to be Erpo, the snake. You must be as close as you have stated. You share each other’s mark. This is the first I have heard of such a thing.”
Nodding in agreement, Sappho stroked the tail, allowing it to coil and settle once again. “That is because it is the first time such has occurred. We share our marks, as we are twins.”
“Twins.” Kyra examined Sappho’s green eyes closely. “I cannot even begin to imagine a world in which there are two of you. Tell me, is he better or lesser endowed than you?” Her eyes blatantly drifted below his waistline.
Sappho laughed in mirth. “Does sexual prowess never stray too far from your lingering thoughts?” He shook his head. “We are identical in all matters. However, I believe with regards to the matter of lances, he would be the lesser.”
Kyra’s lips curved mischievously at the corners, “Spoken like a true scorpion and competitive brother. Tell me, when shall I have the honor of meeting this lesser brother of yours?”
In quick, jerky movements, Sappho stepped away from the bedside. “We are competitive when the need arises. I must not linger and tire you unnecessarily.” He pulled the tunic over his torso with one hand and headed for the door. “Good night, Kyra. Rest well. Perhaps tomorrow we shall test your strength—and endurance.” His eyes lingered meaningfully on the tops of her breasts before he allowed himself out.
Kyra smiled as he exited. He intrigued her with his secretive nature. His body was an added bonus. She could spend the entire night simply looking, admiring, and exploring. Alas, honor held him strictly at bay. She sighed grumpily. Having no memory of her past did not affect her other body functions. And at present she felt the heating within her blood—a heating that could only be fanned and satiated by a hot-blooded male.
* * * *
Eris drew back into the shadows as the door opened. He watched with amusement as his brother first assessed the passage on either side before stepping out and hurrying away.
Eris strolled up to the heavy, sealed door. Whatever lay beyond this door had made his brother extremely secretive and mysterious over the past week. At first Eris had overlooked Sappho’s wish for solitude, as he was secretive by nature, but lately Sappho had become undoubtedly preoccupied. Just today, Sappho had taken a rather-severe blow to the head due to his loss of concentration during the grueling training routine. While the other gladiators did not notice anything amiss, Eris knew instinctively Sappho’s mind was holding a dear secret. He stared at the door.
He did not wish to intrude upon his brother’s privacy, but they were brothers. They were twins. There should be no secrets between them, just as there had never been. Up until now, even as they were competitive in the battle field and a few random occasions outside, they had always shared a deep connection. They could confide in each other without fear or embarrassment and always did. He could not recall a time when they had truly fought. Minor disagreements were always easily settled as they both were never comfortable unless once again nestled in the snug niche of their brotherhood. Neither of them had ever tried to survive on his own, and he suspected they never would. They were, as he had proudly labeled them on more than one occasion, interdependent. But here, behind this door, now lurked a secret.
He tugged on the pins securing his chiton, short tunic, at the shoulders, making sure it fully concealed his own identifying marking upon his chest. He fastened the belt holding the garment in place, pulled down the hook of the door, and cautiously pushed. The door swung in silently on its pins.
“Ah. I see you have had a change in heart, Sappho.” The husky but distinctly feminine voice made Eris pause on the threshold. His mind began to race. Why would his brother seek to keep a maid secured behind closed doors? More importantly, why did he keep her secret from him? Could it be that his brother had procured a mistress with less than perfect looks? Eris could find no other explanation. Perhaps this woman was truly hideous.
The low voice interrupted his musings. “Come, Sappho. Why do you dither on the threshold? Bring forth that glorious body for my perusal, and mayhap we can better aid each other’s troubled sleep this night. Let us not waste another moment this glorious night that Nyx, the Goddess of the night, has bestowed upon us.” Eris frowned. She was a brazen wench all right. He made sure the tunic completely covered the mark of the snake, curled in slumber upon his chest, and stepped fully in. The door closed with a soft thud.
He stepped closer to the bed and stopped short. She was nothing like he had expected. The woman upon the bed was a true beauty. Glorious locks of shimmering, ash-blonde hair flowed freely over her shoulders. Her lips turned down in a natural pout making the bottom lip appear plump and highly kissable. A pointy chin made her face appear shaped like a perfectly sculpted heart. Her eyes. Vibrant orbs of silver-gray flashed with intelligence as she watched him closely.
Eris blinked quickly, trying to refocus his mind. If he continued to stand and gape at her, she would surely know something was amiss. He approached the chair close to her bedside slowly, carefully keeping his gaze lowered. His hands groped clumsily for the handrests of the chair as he lowered himself. His wandering eyes landed on the pale, swollen cups of breasts proudly displayed for his viewing above the sheet. What possible reason did his brother have for keeping this raving beauty secreted away? His rear end was about to make contact with the hard seat of the chair when her voice suddenly gave him pause. “So you must be the lesser brother.”
Eris’s eyes widened in surprise. His shocked green eyes met amused, silver-gray ones. He could not find his voice. No one could discern between his brother and him, at least not on sight. Yet she had done just that. She smiled cunningly. “Allow your behind to seat itself. I see the question in your eyes. You wish to know how I know you are not Sappho, Do’lia erpystriofo’ro koilia’—Devious belly crawler. It is nothing evident that I can point out, rather you simply possess a different presence.”
Eris allowed his bottom to fall heavily into the chair. With the way he had gaped at her and now sat mutely, it was no wonder she saw the difference. She probably thought him the idiot brother of the two. What exactly did she mean by “lesser” anyway? “Who are you? Why does Sappho keep you secretly concealed behind closed doors?”
The daring woman propped herself higher upon her pillows, allowing more of her bounties to be blatantly displayed. She thrust her wares proudly forward, but her answer appeared rather cautious. “Other than the fact that I go by the name of Kyra, I cannot say. As for your brother’s need for privacy, I cannot say either. I see there is another difference between you and your twin. You speak with a lisp.”
Eris grinned. “It is said it is derived from my forked tongue, which is only one of the many attributes it possesses.” One of his slender brows arched slyly. “Care to see, Kyra?”
Kyra laughed softly. “Ah. And you are the mischief-maker of the two. Now tell me, brother of Sappho, why does your brother keep you so well and intentionally secreted from me?”
Relaxing back into his chair, Eris countered, “I was wondering the same. But alas, here we are. Now, you may tell me how you find your gorgeous self acquainted with my brother.”
A deep frown marred her features. “You make it sound as though a nefarious plot is underfoot. Fear not, Erpo, the snake. Your brother’s sting lay unharmed and untouched.” Eris slumped slightly. Her next words set him on alert once again. “As does his lance remain untouched by me, at least not yet.”
For some unexplai
ned reason, he did not want to hear of a possibility of this woman and his brother being sexually involved. The thought surprised him vastly. He had never before found reason to question Sappho’s illicit affairs.
He eyed the beauty upon the kline. She did not appear to be threatening, but there was no denying the power she held, a certain magnetism. More dangerously, from the way she now smirked at him and regarded him beneath seductively lowered lashes, she was well aware of her power, and she was not shy in its usage. She was absolutely captivating and most alluring.
Kyra ran her tongue over her front teeth. “What irks you, brother of Sappho? Find you your lance jerks in readiness, eager to rent and plunder my softness and spit forth its evidence of might and glory?”
Eris drew a quick intake of breath. “You are uncommonly brazen. Surely you are already moistened and heated. Whyever has my brother dithered? I assure you I have no similar compulsion.”
Kyra smiled slyly. “Moistened I am. Your brother has seen to that by flaunting his wares before me. However, I find the idea of having the both of you within me quite appealing. What say you, brother of Sappho? Do the snake and scorpion share their women?” Kyra ran her nail deliberately over her engorged nipple, hardened and peppered, straining and stabbing provocatively against the sheer nightgown. “I can assure you I would know who was who between your two lances.”
Eris rose and towered over her. His eyes followed the path of her caressing nail hungrily. While he had had his reservations about Sappho bedding her, he found no compunction with sharing. He would at least have a taste of her. “We share a willing wench. Set the arrangement with Sappho. I shall avail myself. I shall see you scream your delights to the heavens.”
Kyra licked her lips in anticipation. “And what name shall I scream, brother of Sappho?”
He leaned forward until his breath fanned her moist lips, “Eris.”
* * * *
The blunt handle of the blade caught Eris unaware. He dropped to one knee, bringing his scythe up in a sweeping, protective gesture. He knew before looking at his attacker who he would find. The sting appointed to the snake’s tail upon his chest burned like acid through his tender skin. He kept his weapon at the ready as he raised himself up and faced his attacker. “And to what do I owe this rather cowardly attack upon my unprotected back, brother?” Sappho did not waste a moment in enlightening him. He swung the blade around, allowing the lethal-sharp razor edge to now face his brother. Without further warning, Sappho struck.
Eris opted to keep his mouth shut and allowed his confused brain to concentrate. The scythe came up quickly, knocking the advancing blade off course. He spared just a second to witness Sappho produce another deadly weapon. Eris rolled quickly on the ground and dove the last meter to his second idle weapon. He discarded the scythe in preference for the sickle. Instinct warned him he would have need of a free hand for this battle. A quick scan of the perimeter showed that they had garnered an audience. This did not surprise him. It was not often that the snake and scorpion came to blows, and when they did the outcome was nothing less than savage. However, now his aim remained on defense rather than attack. It did not aid his cause not knowing the reason for Sappho’s sudden attack.
The blade lashed out, pulling his mind once again to the battle at hand. Sappho was well capable of killing him—should he foolishly choose to underestimate his brother. And judging by the furious light spark in his eyes, his brother had nothing less than death on his mind. The sickle spun fast, deceptive in its motion due to its angular design. He caught hold of Sappho’s wrist and twisted. Sappho refused to be intimidated. He grasped the sharp edge of the sickle. Blood oozed from between his fingers as he clutched the razor-sharp blade and forced Eris back.
The snake head upon Eris’s chest came up, scenting the unmistakable stench of blood. Its jaws gaped open and fangs protruded, a sign of its lusting for the battle ahead. The claws of the scorpion upon Sappho’s chest cluttered silently together, just as the stinger rose up threateningly, its lethal tip poised dangerously forward. The battle was now no longer within just their hands. Their beasts had been awakened. And each beast craved the spilled blood of the other.
Sappho threw blades in quick succession. Eris just as quickly knocked them astray. The scorpion reared up in frustration, and Sappho acted accordingly. He leapt forward, beating the path of the swinging sickle, and punched Eris hard under the chin. Eris’s head jerked back with a slight flinch before he reacted by his own fist connecting with Sappho’s jaw. Sappho’s head barely jerked, but blood sprayed from the tender flesh rent upon his lip. The taste of his blood spurred Sappho’s rage. His flying fist caught Eris across the left eye, just as Eris brought his sickle up protectively. The sickle edge drew a jagged tear down Sappho’s arm.
Blood dripped from his hand and fed the earth. Blood flowed and blinded Eris’s sight in one eye. He kicked out, connecting savagely with Sappho’s ankle. But Sappho stood strong against the blow and retaliated with a well-placed knee to Eris’s middle. Eris likewise stood unfazed by the attack. Fists began to fly, unchecked, unguarded. Neither ducked the blows. They simply stood hard and retaliated in kind. Punch was traded for punch, kick for kick. They were like stone gnashing against stone. They eroded away minute sand granules and tiny pebbles, but neither could bring the other down.
“Cease.” The command came from the stone balcony high above them. Both men stopped, but neither dropped their guard. No other could have commanded them to stop other than their king himself. And now their king, Vasilis Amyntas, defender of their realm, stood high above them commanding them to do just that. “Your king summons you. I will have an explanation for this unruly spectacle.” With that he turned on his heels and headed for his council chamber. He did not wait to see to their obedience. He had commanded, and they would obey.
Eris chose the moment Sappho sheathed his last blade to inquire. “What matter of madness has overtaken you? What is your reasoning behind this attack on my person? I would not face our king ignorant, brother.”
Sappho grasped him savagely by the throat and shouted in his face, “This is for your unwanted meddling in affairs that are none of your concern.”
Eris shook himself free of the offensive grip. “You can only mean to speak of one thing, or rather one person, for that is the only secret you hold. She is just a wench who begs a thorough impaling. What matters it if I see to her satisfaction, seeing as you have been rather remiss in that quarter.”
Gritting his teeth, his brother hissed in anger, “Guard your words, brother. You will address her with respect upon your tongue. She is mine. I found her.”
Drawing back in mock horror, Eris needled him. “Found her? Would you have me believe you plucked her off the streets as you would a stray hound and offered her your undying protection and unbound loyalty?” He leaned forward and spat out, “She asked for a night of pleasuring, and I shall deliver.” A single dark blow rose. “With or without you.”
Sappho retaliated by punching in him in the nose, hard. “You will not touch a hair upon her body, or I shall see you dead.”
* * * *
As they strode out the door and into the adjoining courtyard, they bowed before the king. Eris blurted out, “This brother of mine seems to think he has wandered through the orchard and plucked for himself of a tree a ripe morsel—a woman. He secretes her within the palace walls and denies her the sexual satisfaction of his lance. Now he seeks to vent his impotent rage upon me who wishes to slake this thirst for her.”
“Explain.” The command came as soon as he ended his tirade. The voice roared and echoed through the vast halls. Sappho took a threatening step toward Eris but was stayed with a simple command. “Speak, Sappho.”
“I found the maid, disorientated and neglected, upon my daily inspection of the mountains this week past. I aided her with clothes and food and sheltered her, pledging my protection to her.”
Vasilis Amyntas eyed him closely. “This is most unorthodox, Sappho. Why d
id you not inform me of her presence so I may have contacted her kin to come rescue her? And how can you be sure she is not a simple serf who’s run away?”
Sappho sighed heavily. “When I came upon her, it was evident that she had been accosted. A severe blow to her head has rendered her useless with regards to information. She recalls nothing of her past other than the name she goes by. Her apparel spoke of wealth—quality linen and brightly colored. The headdress upon her forehead was polos, a valuable metal headband reserved for royalty. She is no common slave.”
A sudden shift behind the king made all three men pause. Vasiliki Akantha, the queen, strode forward and looped her arms around the king’s neck. She whispered huskily against his thick throat, “You speak of this female with a gentle tongue, Sappho, the scorpion. She must possess an intriguing character and fine womanly curves indeed to have garnered such a reaction from a well-trained warrior in just a week. Is it possible you have allowed yourself to fall in love with her?”
Sappho shook his head in denial, but it was Eris who chose to answer for his bother with a disgusted snort, “Love? A fine figure she may possess, but she is as wanton as a common harlot with a raging, overheated body and wicked tongue to match.”
Vasiliki Akantha laughed huskily and moved away from her husband. She faced Eris. A spark of amusement glimmered in her eyes. “You think her common because she has a thirst for the pleasures of the flesh and a mouth that is uncensored in requesting that pleasure? I would estimate her to be exactly the material befitting men of your stature. You are gladiators, are you not? Do you honestly believe a simmering, cooing damsel would hold your attention for any length of time?”
Tangles and Temptation Page 2