My Spartan Hellion (29 page)

They lay there entwined, their breathing erratic, their hearts pounding. The tenderness of the moment reminded him of their first time together, and he sighed, remembering how she’d shattered so sweetly in his arms, crying out his name beneath the stars before curling up in his embrace.

He didn’t want to leave her, not after he’d just found her, not after they’d just repaired the fragile bonds of their union. The Oracle had revealed he would wed this woman, that their fates were intertwined…but she’d never said for how long.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Lamia. If their dawns were numbered then he would cherish them, just as he planned to cherish
her
.

Chapter Eighteen

Lamia’s sandalled feet brushed against the cobblestoned street, barely making a sound as she walked with purposeful strides towards Basha and Ulysseus’ home. Time was drawing near for Sparta’s men to march to Athens and the entire city was abuzz with anxious energy as everyone prepared for their departure. She was eager to speak with Basha, who’d been through this before, who understood the politics of Sparta and what would be required of her in Thanos’ absence.

She couldn’t believe her turnabout—that she actually planned to stay. She didn’t dwell on what it meant, or for how long she would remain in Sparta. All she knew was that she loved Thanos and he needed her right now. She could not betray her love for him and steal out into the night like a thief while he risked his life on the battlefield. For now, she’d put her thoughts of revenge aside. Thanos’ need of her was more important. She would sort out her business with Atallus once this crisis with Rome had passed.

She nodded at the young
helot
who stood outside Ulysseus and Basha’s home as she passed by. Following the stoned pathway through their gardens, she headed into the vestibule.

The din of muffled voices caused her to slow her steps. The hushed sounds were that of a man and woman, clearly engaged in an argument. She started to turn around, not wanting to intrude upon the intimate moment between Ulysseus and Basha, knowing that if they discovered she’d overheard them they would be embarrassed. Yet, before she could leave, she caught a brief glimpse through the thick foliage to see that Basha was indeed the woman involved in the argument, but it was not Ulysseus whom she was now quarrelling with.

Basha’s face was flaming red, her eyes flashing with anger as she glared at the handsome man who stood before her. He was younger,
much
younger, as if he’d just graduated from the
agoge.
His golden hair floated against his broad shoulders, his sapphire gaze swimming with fury. She recognised him immediately as Zenos, a prince of Sparta and Adonis’ younger brother.

She wondered what he was doing there, arguing with Basha, until he moved towards her sister within the law, his expression intense. Basha shook her head and held out her hand, pressing it against his broad chest. Lamia stood there transfixed by the sight of them, watching the interplay of emotions that crossed their faces. They were lovers. She knew so immediately by the intimacy of their actions. Even the way Basha touched him was familiar.

A battle raged inside her as she spied upon them, struggling with what she would do next. She felt betrayed, betrayed by Basha and her deceit. Ulysseus was a man of honour. He did not deserve a wife so cruel that she would bring her young lover into the home they shared.

Lamia wanted to intrude upon them, but realised it was not her place…and, more importantly, that, even if she disagreed, there was nothing amiss about Basha’s actions—at least not according to the customs of Sparta. She backed away, trying to slip out before the couple took notice of her presence, but the slight movement caught their attention, and two pairs of eyes slammed into her, halting her where she stood.

She ignored Zenos, her gaze settling on Basha, her eyes conveying every emotion she felt inside, none stronger than disappointment.

Now that she’d been discovered, Lamia didn’t move to apologise or turn to leave. Quite the opposite. She stepped through the low arch into the vestibule, forcing Zenos to mumble a quick goodbye as he made a hasty departure.

“It is not what you are thinking,” Basha said as soon as the young
hoplite
disappeared behind Lamia.

“I am listening.” Lamia moved closer to Basha, forcing herself to wipe her face of any expression that would betray her. Before she accused her of any wrongdoing, Lamia would hear Basha out.

Shoving a hand through the silky locks of her dark hair, Basha inhaled a sharp, deep breath as she settled down on a nearby stone bench.

“It is no secret that Ulysseus and I have been unable to bear a child, just as it is no secret that it has mostly been me who has been desperate to have one.” She stared at her clasped hands as if they held the answers to all her questions, all her problems. “Several moons ago I became so desperate that I convinced myself it would be good for us to take lovers, but Ulysseus was against it—”

“And yet you went ahead anyway, despite his wishes.”

Basha’s gaze snapped to her face, at the same time that she shot up from the bench. “Do not judge me. You have no idea what it is like for people to whisper behind your back that you are inadequate, that you are less than a woman because you are only
half
Spartan—”

“You are right, I have no idea what that feels like.” Lamia stalked towards her, feeding off Basha’s anger as her own fury whipped through her.

No, she had no idea what Basha was going through exactly, but that didn’t mean she didn’t carry around her own set of troubles, her own set of insecurities. No one was without them. Basha was not unique—nor was her situation. As much as Basha didn’t want her to judge, it was hard not to, especially when it was clear that her sister within the law had done something that was beneath her dignity, had resorted to actions she knew she would later regret.

“I have no idea what you are going through, but what I do know is that your husband is leaving for war soon and it is unthinkable to me you would invite another man into your bed while he is away just so you can have a baby.”

Basha’s eyes widened. “I have not invited anyone into my bed—”

“But you’ve thought of it.” She knew she was right when Basha seemed to shrink right before her eyes. “Did you take Zenos as your lover so that you might bear a child?”

“No,” Basha sighed. “But I considered it. I did more than that. I came very close, but I could not go through with it.” Her words came out on a tortured whisper, her expression one of agony.

Lamia recognised then that Basha was telling the truth. The anguish in Basha’s eyes was one of self-loathing, not guilt.

“You have to tell Ulysseus,” Lamia said finally.

Basha’s eyes rounded. “
No
! It would crush him.”

Lamia wanted to say that she should have thought of that before she’d acted, but she bit her tongue, at least on that point. “Don’t you think he deserves the truth? Don’t you want him to hear it from you, instead of an angry Zenos? Whatever you did to encourage Zenos has nurtured the boy’s feelings. I would not be surprised if he reveals the truth out of spiteful jealousy.”

Basha flattened her lips into a tight line, the expression on her face acknowledging that Lamia was right, even if she refused to say it.

Lamia let out a loud sigh, brushing aside a single lock of hair that tickled her brow. “I know how stubborn you are, so I know you will refuse me on this, but think about what I have said. If Ulysseus finds out from someone else besides you, it will be that much worse for you both.”

* * * *

That eve, as Lamia lay in Thanos’ arms, she recalled her words to Basha. She’d judged Basha for not being truthful with Ulysseus, and yet here she was keeping her own secrets from Thanos, secrets that were not as blatant as Basha’s but still just as powerfully destructive. As long as she kept them to herself, there was no risk that Thanos would find out. There was no risk that he could be hurt by the truth, but
she
knew the truth, and the guilt of carrying that knowledge around was like a heavy weight upon her heart.

“What is it,
agapetos
? Your entire body is stiff.”

She lifted her head from Thanos’ chest, a small smile curling her lips as she met his searching gaze. There were many obstacles that stood between them, which left her wondering what their future together held, but there were moments like this, when Thanos guessed her inner turmoil without her ever having to say a word, which made her believe with time that they would come to bridge the distance still separating them.

She dragged in a long, deep breath. Trailing her hand across his jaw, she grazed the pads of her fingertips along the stubble just starting to grow out.

“There was a time when I considered leaving you as soon as the opportunity arose. Planned to go as soon as you rode out of Sparta to war.” He tensed beneath her and she stopped tracing the hair along his cheek to meet his blue gaze, which was now clouded, revealing little of his true emotions. He’d wiped his face clean, afraid to show any emotion that would betray him, afraid to reveal that her words had hurt him, even though she knew they had.

“And do you still feel that way? Do you still plan to whisk out of Sparta like a thief and disappear as soon as I am gone?”

“No,” she whispered softly.

“Then why are you telling me this?” he asked, his eyes still wary. Some of the tension had begun to ease from him, though not all of it.

“Because I needed to be honest,” she confessed. “I had to be truthful with you so that you would understand.”

The arms wrapped around her held her almost too tightly as his muscles knotted. “And what am I supposed to understand,
agapetos
?”

“That at one point I wanted to leave and had no intention of looking back, but I cannot do that now, not when you need me.”

“
But…?”

She smiled weakly, because he knew there was more—he’d heard it in her voice. “But I will never be happy here as long as Atallus lives. I promised myself I would avenge Darius’ death and I plan to do that no matter what.”

He was quiet, too quiet as he studied her face. “It is dangerous for you to go after Atallus on your own, but I understand your need for revenge and I know if I tell you ‘no’ that will not stop you—which is why I won’t—
but…
” he added, heading her off just when she’d been on the verge of thanking him for understanding how much this meant to her. “I ask you to put your trust in me and let me see to this matter.”

She shook her head. This was her fight, her battle for revenge. She couldn’t let Thanos risk himself for something that had nothing to do with him, and she said as much.

His eyes darkened as he drew her deeper into his embrace. “And how do you think I feel about you? I cannot allow you to do this alone, no matter how much you wish to. You are my wife now, Lamia, an extension of me, a
part
of me. You shall have your revenge, but you have to trust me. Did I not promise you, if you would but trust me, I would slay every demon for you?” He tightened his arms around her. “Well, I meant it.”

She wanted to argue with him, tell him to let her do this on her own, but the expression on his face left no room for any protests.

“I trust you,” she finally said quietly, because she did. “So, I will let you see to this in your own way.”
For now
, she added silently. She’d given him her love. If she could trust Thanos with her heart, Lamia
knew
she could trust him in this matter. But she was still determined that this was a battle he would not fight for her, which was why she did not argue further. They would never come to an agreement on this.

Besides, with him headed off to war, she wanted Thanos to be secure in the knowledge that she would be there when he returned, that she would not do anything foolish to jeopardise her well-being. He had enough to worry about as it was. She did not wish for him to worry for her as well…so she
would
be there for Thanos when he returned from war, but after…

Despite her words, Lamia knew she would not turn this battle over to him. She’d vowed that Atallus would die by her hands, and she would see to it that he did.

Chapter Nineteen

“I must go.”

Those softly spoken words had come five sun risings from the eve when Adonis had revealed to her that Sparta was going to war.

Thanos had whispered them against her ear, just before dawn, and they had pierced her heart like a sharp dagger as she lay there wrapped in the strength of his arms, battling her fear for him.

She’d twisted around in his embrace, reaching for him. They’d moved towards each other in unison, their bodies straining together as they made love, not knowing if they would ever lie in each other’s arms again. Lamia had poured all of the love she felt for Thanos into every single touch, every gentle caress, every passionate kiss. When he was away, she wanted him to think of their time together, remember these moments and know that she’d given him pieces of her soul. Because when he was gone and she rested her head against the bed, inhaling the scent of him, imagining the touch of him, she would remember these stolen moments and cherish every single memory of their time together before they’d had to say goodbye.

While she had desperately longed to tell Thanos that she loved him, every time she’d tried, she had choked up. Still, she had not wanted him to depart without a symbol of her love for him.

“What is this?” he’d asked after he’d slipped from their bed to begin donning his armour.

She had stood before him. “I made it for you.” Lamia had held out her hand for him to take the gift from her. “I know you have plenty of blades, but I have never seen you with a dagger.”

He’d unsheathed the small weapon and stared down at it, his expression full of awe. It was one of her finest designs and she’d made it thinking only of him.

The arrow-tipped blade was forged of bronze and iron, the hilt cast from gold and silver. Two snakes twisted around the length of the hilt, their bodies framing a rare sapphire that was the same unique colour of Thanos’ eyes.