by Nadia Aidan
She gasped when hot droplets trickled down her chest to drip from the pebbled peaks of her nipples.
Thanos pumped his cock until it grew soft. Finally spent, he slipped to his knees, his breath coming in short pants. With shaky hands, he untied her restraints.
His hands trembled as he redid his clothing and, when he had finally regained himself fully, he stumbled to his feet and walked to his horse, returning with a small bundle. When he unrolled it she saw that it was a strip of cloth and a clean chlamys. With surprisingly gentle hands, he cleansed his seed from her body with the fresh cloth, and, when he was done, he draped her in the thin woollen chlamys, before securing it at her waist with the same twine of rope that had bound her only moments ago.
Tugging her to her feet, he helped her on to Zeus, but this time he did not ride with her.
A tense silence hung between them as he mounted the other horse. Lamia emitted a soft, short sigh as she settled against Zeus, staring out over the large expanse of land she now had to cover again.
Her gaze slipped to Thanos, who sat astride his mount with his jaw tight, his mouth set in a firm line. In that moment, he was Thanos, the disciplined Spartan soldier, and not Thanos, the man who’d just lost control and found pleasure within her mouth and across her breasts. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She decided then that she liked Thanos the man better.
As they rode, she cast furtive glances in his direction, wondering what thoughts brewed in his head. But when she realised what she was doing, she shook her head sharply. It was foolish to care what he was thinking, because it would only lead her to care for him. And she didn’t want to care for Thanos. She only cared about plotting to escape him when the next opportunity presented itself. Despite her failed attempt, her plans had not changed—she would return to Athens to make Atallus pay for what he’d done.
Revenge—that was the only thing she seemed to care about these dawns and she could not—she would not—let anyone or anything distract her from her larger purpose, not even Thanos…especially not Thanos.
Chapter Six
Thanos clenched the reins in his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Loosening his grip, he dragged in a long breath, struggling to ease the tension that invaded his body. He hadn’t intended to lose control. He’d set out to punish Lamia, but that had been his only intent. Yet, when he had stroked the full mounds of her rounded backside, lust had seized control of his mind and body, and he’d been powerless to stop what came after.
He felt her eyes burning holes into his back, and he longed to turn around and reassure her—to say anything—but he could not look at Lamia just yet. He definitely could not talk to her, for he was certain that, if he did, the last vestiges of his control would finally dissolve and in an instant he would be wrenching her from his horse, settling between her legs and burying himself deep in her hot wet channel until they both could not walk for many sun risings.
A groan yawned out of him and he closed his eyes, as if he could banish the image of his seed coating Lamia’s lovely breasts. Forcing out a long breath, he ran a hand through his wild mane in frustration. How was he going to make the long journey alone with her without fucking her at every turn? He’d sent his men ahead of them, not wanting to slow their progress. They needed to return to Sparta to deliver the news that the Roman army was once again gathering in the territory of Carthage, which was not good news for the city-states of Greece.
It would only be a matter of time before the Romans turned their greedy eyes towards Greece. The thought made him weary. He had more than enough to worry about, if war was in fact coming, but now he had a recalcitrant woman on his hands, who stubbornly fought against journeying to Sparta with him, who claimed she would never wed him even though her body craved him—and he had brought that problem upon himself.
He lifted his hand and shielded his eyes to scan the horizon. Her foolish plan of escape had cost them one full sun rising and he was fairly certain they were now almost two sun risings behind his men. It would be a miracle if he caught up to them before they reached Sparta. And, again, he only had himself to blame since he was the one who had offered to purchase her from Atallus in the first place.
Buried so deep in thought, he almost missed the familiar tingling along his skin when his instincts told him something was amiss. Immediately, Thanos brought his mount to a halt and listened. All thoughts of the war and Lamia instantly vanished as a sharp pang of unease settled in the pit of his stomach. The soft staccato of riders approaching on horseback was unmistakable. He glanced over his shoulder to meet Lamia’s concerned gaze, before he shoved his hand into his satchel and grasped his spare sword.
“Take this,” he shouted and flung it towards her.
She caught it easily with one hand, testing its weight in her palm.
The ground began to quake as several riders sped towards them, their horses galloping at a frenzied pace. Thanos squinted, straining to see into the distance. Clouds of dust gathered around the riders as they closed in on him and Lamia.
He stiffened as they drew nearer, and despite the distance, he could see the riders’ faces were filthy, covered in grime, and their tattered garments hung off them like grungy rags. They were thieves. The one road from Athens to Sparta that ran along the coast of the Gulf of Argolis was rife with bands of thieves. He cursed under his breath. He was certain that the men had targeted them as soon as he had sent his soldiers ahead, probably gathering that two lone riders would be easy to pick off.
He met Lamia’s gaze again, determination flashing across her stern face. When they saw her, they would think her a helpless woman. They certainly would not be expecting a fight.
“Can you ride and wield my sword?”
She nodded.
“Then we ride to meet them.” Pressing his heels into the sides of his mount, Thanos set off. Moments later came the steady sound of Lamia’s horse trailing close behind.
With his sharp eyes focused on the fast approaching thieves, he transformed into the ruthless, battle hardened hoplite he’d been born and bred to be. Lifting his sword, Thanos barrelled into the centre of their formation, surprising the riders who’d expected him to battle them from outside their ranks. With precise movements, he slashed at the inept thieves and cries of pain erupted from the wounded men as their crimson blood splattered across his arms.
A sharp cry dragged his attention to his right and he saw Lamia wrench her sword from her attacker’s chest. Seconds later the man fell like a dead weight from his horse. His breath caught in his throat when one of the thieves reached up from the ground to grasp her leg. He turned his horse in her direction but another rider blocked him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he cut the man down with a deft swipe of his blade. A wretched scream burst from the man and he tumbled from his horse, clutching desperately at his chest in a futile to attempt to staunch the blood that flowed like a river from the deep gash. Thanos rushed towards Lamia, his heart pumping wildly in his chest. The knots in his stomach loosened when she disentangled her ankle from the thief’s grasp and delivered a deafening blow to the back of the man’s skull with the butt of her sword. The man instantly crumbled to the ground, his body limp.
She sat on the back of her horse, her chest heaving. Their gazes clashed and he glimpsed a familiar churning in the depths of her eyes. He knew that look. It was the same one she’d given him on the day they’d fought in Athens. And he was reminded of the thought he’d had then as he’d faced her, standing at the edge of her sword. She had a warrior’s heart, a fighter’s strength of will, a fearlessness that was etched deep within her soul.
He glanced down at the bloodied and wounded men piled on the ground groaning in pain. Two were eerily still and silent.
They were done here.
“Let’s go,” he called.
Nudging his mount in the direction of the setting sun, he took off with Lamia riding by his side.
* * * *
Lamia ran her hands across Tha
nos’ now clean and freshly polished sword. She smiled at her reflection that flashed in the blade. It looked better than new. Sheathing the sword, she set it down on the ground beside her.
She caught a flash of movement and she glanced up. A small grin tugged at her lips and she shot Thanos a tentative smile when he sat down beside her, bare from the waist up. Her stomach knotted as she let her gaze wander over him. His sculpted body glowed beneath the soft flickering of the firelight, ripples of corded muscle bulging and flexing with his every movement.
Her nipples tightened and she sucked in a sharp breath, quickly averting her gaze. What was wrong with her? She had known him less than half a fortnight, yet her body responded to him as if it had known him for many annos. If she was willing to be honest with herself then she could admit that she had never been attracted to any man as strongly as she was now attracted to Thanos. But she wasn’t quite ready for such honesty.
“You fought bravely today.”
She met his gaze, glad for the distraction.
“Thank you. You as well.”
He smiled at her compliment. “Was Darius the one who taught you how to wield a sword?”
A knife of pain twisted in her gut at the thought of Darius. “That, and the art of fighting,” she said brokenly, the bittersweet memories of Darius threatening to overwhelm her. It was only her vow to avenge his death that kept her sane most dawns, that kept her from succumbing to the soul-wrenching grief that was never far away.
Her vow of revenge and Thanos, she acknowledged. The handsome Spartan was an unwelcome distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.
“I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you.”
Her smile was faint. “Do not be sorry. It is not your fault that my memories sometimes cause me pain.”
He shifted next to her as he sheathed his sword. “Very few women could do what you did earlier, or what you did when we first met,” he said, deftly switching the subject, for which she was grateful. “I worried earlier that you would be hurt.”
“You are a man… Of course you worried. Men are the only ones who believe they can fight,” she joked.
“I am serious, Lamia. You are a superb fighter, but still a woman. I fear there may come a time when the battle will be beyond your skills.”
“And so what if it is?” She shrugged. “I will either be wounded or killed—”
“‘So what’?” He scowled down at her. “Your life deserves far more than your flippant response, and I would feel responsible if you were ever hurt—”
“You are not responsible for me, Thanos. Besides, you were outnumbered. What was I supposed to do? Just sit there and twiddle my useless thumbs?” She knew if he’d had his way she would have been mending garments instead of galloping into the middle of a battle, but she wasn’t that kind of woman.
“I am a soldier, Lamia. I am trained to fight uneven odds.”
Defiance fuelled her words. “And I am a fighter as well, who does not run from any fight, no matter what.”
“A fighter you may be, but you are not a soldier,” he argued. “You are but one woman.”
“And so now I’m helpless?” she scoffed. “I have been defending myself since I was a child, and I am one woman who does not need you or anybody else to protect me.”
“You may not need my protection, but that will be my duty as your husband. When we are wed—”
She halted him with the roll of her eyes, but for only a moment.
“You can sit there and mock me, Lamia, but you must now see that there was some truth to the Oracle. You are foreign born. We met in a sword fight. And now it would seem your fate is tied to mine.”
She’d thought he would abandon any notion of wedding after she’d run away. Didn’t he see how ill-suited she was for marriage? For him?
She shook her head. “Thanos, cease with this nonsense. Can you not see that we are not well suited?” She sprang to her feet in an effort to put distance between them. She had no desire to be any man’s wife—least of all Thanos’ with his domineering ways—and especially now that she feared she was growing to care for him. If she wasn’t careful she could lose her heart to the handsome Spartan and find herself tied to him after all. And she knew she would hate it, for Thanos was far too rigid a man, far too unyielding. Darius had always allowed her freedom—probably too much. With Thanos, his dominant manner would simply not allow her the freedom she was used to—and she would come to hate him…and he her.
“You cannot accept my independence,” she continued. “And I do not take well to your arrogant commands. I’ve already tried to escape you once. Even if I lost all my senses, and we were somehow wedded, I would not stop trying to escape you. I answer to no other, and your dominant ways would only stifle me.”
She’d barely got the last of her words out, before she was abruptly yanked by her chlamys down to the hard ground.
She met Thanos’ simmering gaze. Before she could protest, he flipped her over, pressing her back deep into the cold, jagged earth.
She struggled to sit up but his solid frame was unyielding. And when she pushed against his chest, he gripped her wrists with his large hand, lifting her arms above her head, effectively restraining her.
She gritted her teeth, anger boiling through her, but she eased beneath him, leashing her fury for the moment because she realised it was useless to struggle, if her still sore behind was any evidence.
“You will not leave me again,” he growled out, the muscle in his jaw thumping beneath golden skin.
“This is what I’m referring to, Thanos. You are a bully,” she snapped.
A smile lifted the corners of his lips, but it did not reach his eyes, and she knew her insult had struck a chord.
His free hand shot out and he dragged her chlamys from her body, leaving her completely nude.
“You truly are a bully if you think you can force my hand. But I still will not wed you, Thanos. Not ever, not even if you rape me,” she warned with a steely glare.
The anger in his eyes dimmed, giving way to surprise, before she glimpsed the wounded expression on his face. For the second time that dawn, she’d lashed out and injured him with her brash words. She knew instinctively that Thanos would never take her if she was unwilling but it was too late now to take back what she’d said. Still, she opened her mouth to apologise, but shut it at the chilly expression etched across his face.
“I would never rape you, Lamia, and you know it. I have never taken a woman by force and I never shall.” Cupping one breast in his large hand, Thanos flicked his thumb across her hardening nipple, earning a traitorous gasp of pleasure from her lips.
Leaning down, he traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his hot, wet tongue and she shivered against him, eliciting a soft chuckle.
“You say you hate my dominance, but I think you realise the difference between a husband who seeks full control over his wife, and a man who seeks her submission in their bed. You know I do not seek to control you, Lamia. I only wish to master you in our bed, but I think that frightens you. I think your mind is frightened of what I do to you. But when it comes to your body, it tells an entirely different story than the protests tumbling from your sweet lips.”
His mouth furled into a grin full of arrogance and she shuddered at the triumph blazing in the cobalt depths of his eyes. “Even now your cunt is wet for me. I’ve barely touched you and I can already smell the scent of your arousal wafting in the air.
“But you’re so afraid of your own desires for me, that you must convince yourself the only way I could ever have you is if I force you.” The chuckle rising out of him held a note of censure that was mocking to her ears. “That is fine, Lamia. Tell yourself whatever lies you must so that you may escape your shame. Because know this—when I finally do take you, your pleading cries will echo so loudly on the wind that you shall never be able to deny that you begged for my cock. And you will beg, agapetos. You will beg for me to fuck you any way that I desire.”
Chap
ter Seven
Lamia squirmed beneath Thanos when his free hand lingered over her breast. He took its softness in his palm and massaged gently, plucking her nipple until it was fully erect.
Her channel clenched and she clamped her thighs together as moisture seeped out, hating that he spoke the truth. She couldn’t deny what he already knew, what they both knew, that before the eve was done she would shamelessly beg for his touch.
Her body ached to surrender, to give in to the need that he had created within her, but her mind resisted.
“Thanos,” she protested on a low moan while his hand traced the plane of her belly, teasing her navel before dipping lower to rake the soft nest of curls between her legs.
“Open for me,” he whispered within the hollow of her neck.
Lamia’s mind screamed in protest, warning her of what her surrender would mean, but she was powerless against the insistent desire clawing through her, and her body rebelled, obeying his command as her thighs drifted apart. Parting her folds with his fingers, he encircled the tiny nub at the apex of her womanhood, rubbing it back and forth, pinching it lightly. Her back stiffened as the pressure built inside her and her legs fell open wider, her hips rocking slowly, pushing her mound harder against his hand.
“Thanos,” she moaned when his fingers dipped inside. Her wet heat embraced him and she glanced down to see her juices glistening on his fingers beneath the silver moonlight. She let her eyes drift shut, savouring the feel of his fingers gently ploughing in and out of her wet cunt, pushing past the tight muscles of her sheath.
A needy gasp passed her lips as he eased out of her shuddering body, and, when her eyes finally opened to meet his, she melted at the crooked smile he greeted her with. Her heart galloped to an abrupt stop as his handsome face softened and a single dimple creased his cheek. She curled her lips into a slight smile and in that moment something passed between them, a fleeting emotion that warmed that small space where her heart rested.