My Spartan Hellion (15 page)

“I know what you are thinking, but you are wrong. Ulysseus and I have been wed for almost four
annos
but the gods have not seen fit to give us a child. Ulysseus also lacks the patience and diplomacy of Thanos. He is a soldier at heart. We have no designs on Thanos’ throne, for either ourselves or our unborn children.”

Lamia was careful to keep her expression blank, mainly because she didn’t want her face to betray her sympathy for this woman. She hadn’t missed the slight catch to Basha’s voice when she spoke of being unable to have a child. While she didn’t know Basha and the woman hadn’t been particularly warm towards her, she still felt compassion for her. She was fairly certain that Basha wasn’t the sort of woman who wanted anyone’s pity or compassion, so she let the comment pass without acknowledgement. Instead she got straight to the matter and voiced what she knew Basha was implying.

“You don’t think Thanos made a good choice in picking me as his wife.”

Basha cocked her head to the side, her silken strands falling over the shoulder that was bare, and scrutinised Lamia with eyes of a hawk stalking its prey.

“I do not know you well enough to make such a statement,” she said bluntly before she spun away from her and walked towards the edge of the courtyard to where several archery bows hung from iron nails jammed into a wooden shelf. Pulling one down, she tested its weight then gathered several arrows in her fist. “But I do know Thanos well enough to say this.” She placed all but one arrow aside. With the single arrow in her hand, she centred it in the middle of her bowstring, lifted the bow and drew the string back until her fingers brushed her jaw. “Thanos is a steady man, but with war coming to Sparta he has a great deal of responsibility now resting upon his shoulders,” she said and released the arrow.

Lamia followed the soaring arrow across the courtyard until it hit its mark at the centre of the target painted in red.

“He needs a woman who can handle all of this. Someone who can keep her head if there is war and will not become hysterical should Thanos need to leave Sparta for several moons to lead the army.”

She bit her lip to stop herself from saying something rude. What had given Basha the impression she was prone to hysterics? She wrestled with that notion for several silent moments, but never being one to mince words she simply decided to speak directly.

“You do not know me well enough to know whether Thanos and I are well suited, and yet you have already managed to diagnose me with hysteria. Interesting.”

“Foreign-born wives tend to have a very difficult time adjusting to the ways and customs of Sparta.” Basha shrugged, her expression indicating that she was not offended by Lamia’s caustic statement, but neither was she apologetic regarding her own.

Lamia swept her gaze over Basha, noting the tattoo of a tiny
ankh
that was visible on her bare shoulder. “Are you speaking from experience?” she asked pointedly, still trying to decide if she was going to dislike this woman.

Basha arched one elegant eyebrow, following Lamia’s gaze to the tattoo she knew to be the Egyptian symbol for eternal life.

A wry grin tugged at the corners of Basha’s mouth. “I am the daughter of an Egyptian priestess and a Spartan soldier. I have not forgotten the ways of my mother’s homeland, but I was raised here in Sparta. I grew up alongside Ulysseus and Thanos, so I know them both quite well and—”

“You only want the
best
for Thanos,” Lamia interrupted, fighting to temper her voice. In her opinion, this conversation was at an end. Lamia may not have wanted to be Thanos’ wife, but that did not change the fact that she now was. If Thanos thought they were well suited, then no matter Basha had grown up with him or knew Thanos well, what right did this woman have to question otherwise?

She crossed the courtyard towards Basha and held out her hand for the bow. “May I?” Surprise briefly flashed in Basha’s gaze before she nodded and handed it over.

“I realise you know Thanos probably far better than I do.” She stooped down to gather a single arrow from the pile at Basha’s feet. “And I can tell you care for him a great deal and only want him to be happy. It is certainly clear to me that you do not want Thanos tied to a woman who is a hindrance to him and his duties.” Lamia lifted the bow and, just like Basha had, she centred the arrow, pulled the string back until the arrow was in line with her jaw, then released it.

Again, she followed the motion of the arrow sailing across the courtyard and watched it hit its mark, splitting Basha’s down the middle and breaking it into two pieces, which limply clattered to the ground.

She turned to face Basha, who, much to her amusement, stood there completely still, staring wide-eyed at the target. “But I can assure you, Basha, Thanos is a wise man and he certainly did not take this long to find a wife just to pick one that is unable to handle the pressures of being both his wife and his queen.”

They locked gazes then, openly assessing one another until Basha apparently came to the same conclusion as she—that the woman standing before her was her equal in every way.

Basha’s entire countenance changed then. Her face softened and, for the first time since they’d met, she smiled—a genuine one, full of warmth. Lamia returned her smile, grateful she’d passed her test. She would have hated to have this formidable woman as her foe.

“I have to agree with you, Lamia. Thanos is a wise man who has indeed made a very wise choice in you. Welcome to the family,
sister
.”

* * * *

“So was it that blasted Oracle or did you finally realise Cleomenes was right?” Ulysseus chuckled. “I bet it was probably both.”

Thanos’ brow knitted into a frown. He tightened his fingers around his goblet of wine as he struggled to tamp down his irritation with Ulysseus and his pointed words.

“Right about what?” he asked, pretending he had no idea what Ulysseus was referring to. The struggle he’d faced with Cleomenes, his brother and Basha—even the
gerousia
—had been a constant one. He needed an heir, but he’d refused to take a wife for that purpose alone. Thus far, Cleomenes and the
gerousia
had been tolerant of his position, but with war on the horizon, their patience had been starting to wane. Sparta’s two kings needed heirs, and he was long overdue in producing one.

He’d resisted their pressure because he was looking for more than just a woman who would simply bear him sons. The mother of his children, his wife, had to be a woman strong enough to lead in his absence, strong enough to mould his sons into Spartan men if he was not there to do it. Yet her strength could not come at the expense of her tenderness, her compassion for others, the very essence of her femininity. He’d almost given up his ideal—that such a woman even existed—until he’d met Lamia.

To say that everyone else had already given up on him ever finding a wife was an understatement. So when he’d shared with Cleomenes and Ulysseus the prophecy of the Oracle, and the news had spread, all of Sparta had rejoiced. They’d seen it as a sign that he’d finally take a wife, but Thanos had not been so certain. He trusted the wisdom of the Oracle, the truth of his own dreams, but he’d still wondered if maybe this woman was a figment of his imagination. Not until he’d met a fiery-eyed beauty on the other end of his sword had he realised she was indeed real.

“Do not act as if you have no idea what I speak of. You finally realised everyone was right about you taking a wife, having an heir.” Ulysseus took a sip from his cup, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. “It is good you’ve heeded their advice, but could you not have found a
Spartan
woman?”

Thanos clenched his jaw tight at the censure dripping from his brother’s voice, although Ulysseus’ reaction was not wholly unexpected. Most Spartans were not particularly welcoming when it came to foreigners, although, with Lamia as their queen, those who were likely to have a problem with that would be wise to hide their displeasure—but not Ulysseus apparently. “You know what the Oracle said.”

Ulysseus shrugged. “I know, but I still think Sparta’s queen should be…well,
Spartan.
”

“I disagree. I believe Lamia is Spartan at heart. And besides, I believe Lamia and I are well suited. That is more important to me than where she was born.”

Ulysseus eyebrows arched. “You
believe
?” his brother questioned.

“I
know
,” Thanos said firmly, struggling to bite back a groan at the image that flashed in his head of Lamia writhing beneath him, lost in the throes of pleasure, as he thrust into her supple body. Physically, there was no doubt that they were well suited, but it was more than that. It was her passion, her fire, her strength of character—all of which had drawn him to her, convincing him she was strong enough to stand by his side and face the perils that lay ahead of them.

“You know.” Ulysseus snorted. “You don’t
know
this woman at all and yet you bring her here as your wife. Sparta has waited for you to give her an heir by a suitable woman, and this is your choice?”

Thanos tensed, Ulysseus’ words igniting a hot spark of fury inside his belly until his vision blurred into a crimson haze. Separated from him in age by just two years, his brother was one of the few individuals who was not afraid to challenge him, who did not fear his wrath. For most things, he relied upon Ulysseus’ sound judgement, but in this instance he needed no such help. He’d already made his decision, and his brother would simply have to accept it.

“Do you have a problem with my choice, brother?”

Ulysseus stared at him, apparently noting the sharp, icy edge to Thanos’ voice. He narrowed his gaze.

“What is it about this woman that has you so enamoured? You have only just met her and yet you are ready to strike me for some perceived insult. Do not try to deny it.” He smirked. “Your hands are balled into fists. You only do that when you’re fighting to rein in your temper.” Ulysseus leant back against the couch, studying him from above the rim of his wine cup. “I just hope the faith you’ve placed in her is justified. Sparta faces many challenges on the horizon and she will need a strong queen to support her when you are off fighting to defend her.”

Thanos thought of Lamia the dawn he’d met her, her eyes full of determination, and then the dawn they’d been attacked by thieves. She was courageous, fearless even, and he had no doubt that she was strong enough to lead Sparta in his absence.

He had no doubt that she could lead… His only worry was that she would not follow.

Lamia enjoyed making love with him, but she was not tied to him. There was nothing but her promise to him that she would stay with him in Sparta until the threat from Rome had passed. She may be his wife, but by all accounts, she was not truly bound to him…to Sparta, to his people.

He could plant his seed in her womb, and with any other woman that would keep her by his side, but Lamia was unlike any other woman he’d ever known. That was what drew him to her, and yet it was what made him doubt her, made him unsure of himself before Ulysseus.

She was strong enough to lead Sparta as her queen, but was she strong enough to be his wife, when she truly had never desired to be?

* * * *

Lamia rode Thanos, her body tensing above his as she took him inside her one last time before heat whipped through her and she splintered into pieces.

She cried out at the same time that his hands clutched her hips, a hoarse moan spilling from his lips as he shuddered. His warm seed stirred in her womb and she collapsed against him, curling herself into a ball, like a sleeping kitten, as she lay in Thanos’ arms basking in the warm, contented haze of their lovemaking.

Basha and Ulysseus had departed a short while ago and she and Thanos had wasted no time in intimately reacquainting themselves with one another within their bedchamber.

She sighed as she snuggled deeper into Thanos’ embrace, loving how his coarse hands traced the delicate curve of her thighs.

“You must admit, being my wife does have its advantages.”

She lifted her head from his chest to stare into teasing eyes. “I cannot believe you dare to boast of your prowess in bed.”

He answered with a shrug, a smirk fixed upon his face.

“You are unashamedly arrogant, you know that?”

He chuckled and she shook her head. He may have spoken the truth—their lovemaking was one of the definite advantages to being wed—but he was incorrigible, she thought as she ran her fingers through the sprinkling of hair along his chest. Laying her palm flat over his heart, she bit back a sigh at the feel of it thumping beneath her palm in perfect rhythm to the pulsing beat of her own heart.

This…this
thing
between her and Thanos was becoming more complicated by the moment. At first she’d brushed his talk of dreams and the Oracle to the back of her mind, but as she’d stood in the courtyard earlier, defending her place in Thanos’ life before Basha, she’d been forced to admit they were seemingly a perfect fit.

What if the Oracle was right? What if their destinies were intertwined? She looked up at him and her heartbeat quickened at the desire that burned in his gaze. But it was more than that. In his eyes shone something deeper and it made every butterfly in her belly flap their wings.

She glanced away, unable to hold his gaze when she knew she would one day betray him. She so desired a real home, a real family, but the guilt that beat inside her was so overwhelming it threatened any happiness she sought to find. She did not deserve to be happy as long as the man who’d killed Darius still walked the lands. Her sense of honour, her need for justice, would not allow her to simply let her hatred go and seek bliss with Thanos. She just couldn’t.

As if reading her thoughts, Thanos tightened his arms around her and sighed. “I fear for you and these storms that sometimes rage in your eyes.”

She glanced at him, plastering a small smile across her face. “There is nothing to fear, Thanos. All is well,” she lied.