My Spartan Hellion

by Nadia Aidan

  She could only agree.

  Closing her eyes, she nestled deeper into the warmth of Thanos’ embrace, holding him just as tightly as he now gripped her.

  Several soundless minutes passed before Lamia lifted her head from Thanos’ chest. “I think I killed him,” she said quietly, glancing over at Atallus’ limp form, which hadn’t stirred once.

  Thanos followed her gaze with eyes smouldering with barely leashed rage. He gave Atallus’ broken and prostrate body a dismissive glance. “Only because I did not get to him first.”

  * * * *

  That eve, Thanos held Lamia in his arms, gently stroking her smooth skin as they lay in their bed, listening to the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

  He’d almost lost her not once, but twice, and it humbled him to realise just how important this woman was to him, to his happiness, his very existence. Should she not walk this earth, Thanos knew Lamia would take with her his heart and soul until he joined her in the afterlife.

  As if she knew his thoughts were of her, she stirred against him.

  Lifting her head from his torso, her unbound locks cascaded over her shoulder, tickling the hairs along his chest. He tangled his hand in her hair, cupping the back of her head, his body tensing when he glimpsed the disquiet in her eyes.

  “What is it, agapetos?”

  She smiled, her fingers lightly touching his stubbled jaw. “When I left Athens, I never thought I would want anything more than Atallus’ death by my hands.” Her fingers stilled against his cheek. “But then I fell in love. I almost cannot believe I risked my love for you, was prepared to throw it away and abandon you, all for the emptiness of revenge. The day of the battle, the day I was injured, as I lay there in your arms, not knowing if I would die, all I felt was an overwhelming sadness.” Her expression grew sombre, and his heart hammered in his chest at the pain in her eyes. “All those moons spent plotting my revenge, wasted, when they could have been filled with happiness and joy and my love for you.” Her gaze held his, unwavering as she said softly, “My last thoughts before I passed out were of you, Thanos—not Darius, not Atallus, not revenge. When I thought I would die, all I felt was regret that I had wasted these last moons on my destructive need for revenge instead of showing you how much I love you, how much you mean to me.”

  “But all is well now,” Thanos said soothingly. “In the end, the gods allowed you your revenge. Atallus is dead, and he died by your hands.”

  She shook her head. “But that wasn’t what I wanted, not anymore, and, in the end, the completion I thought I would feel was not there. I thought killing Atallus would make me feel whole again, but I was already whole long before this night. I thought I would experience a feeling of triumph when he was dead, but instead I feel nothing. Had Atallus not come after me, I could have lived the end of my dawns knowing he would be brought to justice in the afterlife.”

  She tightened her arms around him, and in that moment he knew what she was trying to convey, and it made that fist clench around his heart again. He knew that he had her love above all else—that she loved him, as he loved her, more than life itself—but to hear her admit she was free of her need for vengeance, that she’d abandoned it long ago out of her love for him…

  She settled her hand over his heart, her warm breath feathering across his skin. “Your love was what made me whole, Thanos, not revenge. I realised that when I awoke from my injuries in your arms. I accepted that I no longer needed to seek vengeance because truly all I need in this world is you.”

  Epilogue

  Callisto did not want to leave Sparta, her family, her friends, the only home she’d ever known, but the expression on her father’s face told her she would have no choice.

  “Come in, Father,” she said, stepping aside to allow him inside her modest home. “Would you like some wine?”

  He shook his head. “You know why I am here,” he said softly.

  Her father was a handsome man. His position on the gerousia, his distinguished good looks and vast wealth made women flock to him. Pericles was one of the few in Sparta who’d maintained a single union, remaining true to it, even after her mother’s death. But he’d genuinely loved her mother, and when she’d died, he’d refused to take another wife. At first Callisto had agreed with his position, unable to accept another woman entering into their lives, attempting to tarnish the memory of their mother, but of late she’d come to terms with the realisation that her father was lonely, that he needed companionship.

  That was the foremost thought she still struggled with as she plotted her escape. She didn’t want to leave her father alone. He was getting older, and there would come a time when he would be called to the Underworld, and she knew that she would hate herself if she was not there for him in his final hours. She did not want this to be the last time she saw her father alive because she was somewhere in the far reaches of the world, hiding from a man she could not bear to give herself to.

  “You cannot give me to him a-as some reward. I am not an object to be bartered and traded.” She’d been outraged that her father had even entertained the Roman’s request. How could Pericles let him have her—a filthy Roman, of all people?

  “He saved your life, Callisto, and I promised him anything he wanted in return, and he wants—”

  “Me,” she spat.

  “He comes from a distinguished Roman family, and he is far stronger than most of his comrades. He wears the scars of many hours of torture and not once did he break, not once did he speak. Many others died, but your saviour wasn’t one of them. He may not be Spartan, but his spirit, his resolve is strong. I would argue, unbreakable. At least you know your sons will have his strength of will.”

  Sons? She fought back a strangled sob. Did her father not hear himself? How he sounded? Did he not understand that she did not want to bear this man’s sons—she didn’t even want him touching her?

  That single thought was a lie and her body proved her false when her nipples tightened against her peplos, her legs trembling as she clamped them together, struggling to ignore the warmth flooding her passage.

  That was why she had to leave. Her body was far too eager for him, and it was that eagerness that terrified her. He knew she wanted him, and he would not hesitate to make her a slave to her own desires, where he would use her body to humiliate her…after he’d finished using it for himself.

  Just the thought of him angered her. He was a stranger, an arrogant Roman who had been raised to despise the Greeks, to look down upon them. He thought himself superior to her and the ways of her people, she’d seen it in his eyes. How could she possibly wed him and hope for harmony in their union?

  “Father, I refuse to wed him.”

  Pericles was slow to anger, especially when it came to her—his oldest child, his first born, his only daughter. Ordinarily, she could wrap him around her little finger, but this dawn she wasn’t quite so successful.

  “Callisto, you have no choice. I have given my word, and my word is my honour. Tomorrow he will be released and you will meet him at that prison where you will stand by his side and wed him in a simple ceremony. Then you will return here until I can gift you with a home as my present to you and your new husband.”

  She was going to be ill. He’d saved her life—but to what end? Did that mean he now owned her body and soul? Apparently so.

  She gave Pericles a small smile as she fell into his arms, absorbing his strength, memorising every single detail that was unique to him, resigning herself to the fact that this would probably be the last time she saw her father.

  Pericles would be furious with her, but he’d left her no other choice. By dawn tomorrow she would be long gone, and when they realised she was not attending her own wedding, it would already be too late.

  * * * *

  “Out, Adonis!” growled Thanos as he stalked towards the young hoplite.

  Adonis lifted his hands in mock surrender as he stepped backwards. “I am just asking you to think about it.” He grinn
ed mischievously before he turned and ran from their home.

  “And do not come back!” Thanos shouted after Adonis’ retreating back, scowling when the boy laughed all the way through the courtyard.

  Lamia gently prised Thanos’ fingers from the door to their oikos, closing it softly.

  “He admires you, Thanos. That is why he enjoys taunting you so.” She smiled. “It is because he wants to be like you some dawn.”

  “I bet he wants to be like me.” Thanos grimaced. “More like he wants to be me.”

  She sighed. “He only flirts with me to anger you. And it always works.”

  “So requesting a threesome with my wife is your idea of flirting?”

  “All right, so I admit Adonis can be a bit outrageous at times, but honestly, Thanos, he means no harm.” She wrapped her arms around his neck to press her body against his.

  “He is half in love with you, Lamia,” he argued as he wound his arms around her waist.

  “I disagree. He is young and infatuated. He simply wants a woman like me, not me exactly.”

  “Well, he is just going to have to go to Carthage and find some other woman, because you are mine, agapetos,” he growled.

  “Oh, I do not think he is going to have to go all the way to Carthage to find her.”

  “No?”

  She grinned. “Oh, no. Much to Adonis’ horror, when he was visiting here a fortnight ago, Armine proclaimed that she would become his wife when she was old enough to wed, since she knew no other woman would ever be up to the task.” Lamia could not stop the laughter from bubbling out of her. “Armine even went so far as to tell him she would do him this one favour after the kindness he’d shown her by dealing with those bullies at the agoge.”

  Coughs racked Thanos as he choked on his tongue. “W-what was his reaction? He better not have let her down cruelly or said something to upset her or I will wring his neck.”

  “Oh no, he was not mean, just far from agreeable. But at least Armine has a thick skin. He told her that, as much as he appreciated her offer, he never planned to wed, to which Armine replied that he would change his mind and one dawn he would very much want to wed her—” She chuckled, unable to get her next words out.

  “What is so funny?”

  “When Adonis tried to tell her she was mistaken and that he thought otherwise, she kicked him. Hard. In the shin. You should have seen his face.”

  “That is my girl. I have to purchase her another present,” Thanos said, joining her in her laughter.

  Wind rustled through the bushes then and their soft laughter floated outside, through the open window until it slowly died.

  She had never felt this way before. She had never felt such contentment, such happiness as she stood there locked in Thanos’ arms. The threat of war with the Romans had not yet passed and she knew Thanos would be called to defend Sparta again, but she pushed those fears aside for the moment. For now, Thanos was home and they were together and that was all that mattered.

  She nestled deeper into his embrace, enjoying the warmth of his firm body enveloping hers. She’d never dreamed that she would ever find a man such as him—fierce and passionate, full of honour and willing to die for those he loved. She had never known a better man and she knew she never would. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve his love, but she thanked the gods every sun rising that she had it, and that she was his.

  She then thought of her parents, her brother, the street kids who had been her family after the Romans attacked her home, and of Darius, who’d rescued her and loved her as his own. She rarely thought of all of them at once—the pain that accompanied the totality of her loss was far too much to bear in a single moment—but she found she could do it this time, even though it still hurt…and she knew it always would. Yet this time, as the memories washed over her, she found herself able to endure the pain of their absence, because for the first time in her entire life she knew she did not have to hurt alone, that she did not have to carry the weight of her burden alone. Thanos was there to lean on if she needed him, just as she would be there for him, and that knowledge gave her strength, but more than that it gave her something she’d never had before—it gave her peace.

  She smiled as she stroked her hands through the thick curls at the nape of his neck, certain that her eyes shone with everything she felt in her heart for her husband—her Spartan.

  “I love you,” she said simply.

  He dipped his head to kiss her lips. “And I you, agapetos,” he whispered when he lifted his mouth from hers.

  She furrowed her brow, remembering then the question she’d longed to ask of him, but which she’d kept forgetting.

  “What is it?” he asked, his blue eyes swirling with concern.

  “You call me that often, almost from the dawn we met, but I do not know what it means?”

  “Agapetos?”

  She nodded.

  His gaze burned with such deep emotion that she swore she felt it sear a path straight to her heart.

  “It is a term of endearment. It means ‘my heart’ or ‘my love’,” he said softly.

  Her heart swelled with love for him and she tightened her arms around him, holding him closer.

  “And am I your heart, your love?”

  “Always, agapetos.” Thanos cupped her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. “Always and forever.”

  Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  Masochist

  Nadia Aidan

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  La Ville des Dieux…

  The city of the gods.

  Selena knew better. It was a city full of demons, devils, evil that preyed upon the weak, the vulnerable, the pitiless and the poor.

  Mortal men owned the city, controlling the lives of all who lived within its vast borders. They called themselves gods. They weren’t. They were just men, with the faces of angels, godlike bearings…but they shared the weaknesses of all men—their sins, their lusts, their desires.

  Selena pulled her black silk shawl up higher around her face, slipping through the crowd of patrons who’d come to La Maison d’Adonis—the house of Adonis—for the grand opening of the opulent hotel that would bear the owner’s name. It was a place of decadence and finery, the gilded golden luxury of the establishment as perfectly and beautifully made as the man himself.

  Adonis.

  The proprietor of the western district of La Ville des Dieux—the most beautiful of the four gods…and the cruellest of them all.

  She was dressed in a floor-length, black gown, the sequins twinkling beneath the warm glow of the crystal chandeliers. Her dress was subtle, understated, yet flattering as it raised her full breasts and flared at her rounded hips. The expensive attire had cost her two months’ salary, but it was worth it—the expense, the sacrifices would all be worth it, very soon. The dress was necessary. Its opulence gained her entrance—its modesty allowed her to pass through the crowd without notice.

  And that was exactly what she wanted—to pass without notice. No one would expect a simple, diminutive beauty who wore the crucifix of His Saviour draped around her neck—the outward symbol of God’s handmaiden…a nun by any other name—to do harm to a single person. But her sole purpose for being there was to do harm and to reclaim that which had been cruelly taken from her sixteen years ago.

  Selena left the crowded ballroom and glided beyond the guest bathrooms into the elevator and rode to the forty-second floor. She then got off, silently disarmed the lock and slipped into the stairwell to climb the last three floors to the penthouse level. A guard awaited her as soon as her heeled feet left the dull grey concrete of the stairwell and sank into the plush, burgundy carpet.

  “Excuse me, Sister, but I cannot allow you back here. The chambers in this hallway are private.”

  The guard was young, handsome…beautiful, as all of the god’s men were. He favoured beautiful things and beautiful people to mirror the perfect beauty of his own flawless face. Tha
t was why he’d taken her, defiled her—her beauty had reputedly surpassed his. But not anymore. Outwardly, maybe, but deep inside she was ugly, the core of her vile and hideous.

  She knew what the guard saw when he looked at her—an ethereal angel, a stunning being touched by the divine. She smiled, disarming him with her loveliness before disarming him with her weapon. She raised her hand, trained the gun on his neck and pulled the trigger.

  His eyes widened as he clutched his throat and gasped then crumpled at her feet in a heap.

  Every movement was muffled, almost silent.

  She stepped over the beautiful man and turned the corner. His room, she could easily tell, for another two guards stood before the double oak doors.

  Selena smiled as she approached and the two men fell under her spell.

  Her smile mimicked the pure luminescence of warm sunshine peeking through the dull grey of winter clouds. Before either could react, she shot them both, also in the neck. The mild neurotonic venom seeping through their blood stream would cause immediate paralysis. Unconsciousness would follow in seconds. They would think they were dying. But all would awaken…long after she was gone.

  Only one needed to die this night.

  She stepped over the prostrate guards and knocked gently on the door. There was no need for pretence. He knew she would come, for she’d told him. Sixteen years ago he’d taken her innocence and destroyed every dream she’d ever had. And sixteen years ago she’d promised him she would do the same to him someday. When he was at the pinnacle of success, she’d promised, she would destroy him as cruelly and carelessly as he’d once destroyed her. She kept every single one of her promises. She’d warned him then. And with a letter just weeks ago, she’d warned him again.