Thief of Olympus (Greek Myth Series Book 3) (5 page)

He was about to object to her comment when a knock came at the door.

“Enter,” he called.

A kitchen boy walked in with a platter of steaming hot food and a goblet of wine.

Lysandra met him halfway across the room, grabbing the food and drink from him before he had a chance to hand it over.

“I’ll need more wine than this,” she said with a scowl on her face, eyeing the goblet in her hand.

“I did as my king asked, my lady.” The kitchen boy bowed before her.

Zarek felt disgust at the way she gloated at the title.

“She is not a lady,” he instructed the boy. “Far from it. She is an Amazon warrior, so you have no need to refer to her as titled.”

“Yes, sire.” The boy quickly put his head down and bowed again.

“You’re wrong. I am titled,” she said, shoveling food into her mouth with her fingers. “I am a princess, so he should call me, Your Highness.”

The kitchen boy looked to Zarek, confused and awaiting a command. Zarek tired of arguing with her so just nodded his head.

“My lady will suffice. But you need not bring more wine to the chamber tonight.”

The boy nodded and bowed once again and exited the room.

Zarek watched Lysandra sit in the middle of the floor on an area carpet rather than on the bed or a chair. She placed the platter on her lap and brought the goblet to her lips. She quaffed the contents with a long chug and placed the goblet on the floor in front of her.

“You agree to the servant calling me my lady, but yet you dismissed him from bringing me more wine. Why is that?”

He sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room and leaned back on two legs watching her eating like an animal in the wild. Her mouth opened wide and she shoveled food inside as if she had not eaten in weeks. Then she wiped the grease from her hands on the Persian carpet beneath her.

“No courtesy title can make you a lady,” he remarked leaning his head back against the wall. He couldn’t help but remember the wild way in which she mated with him. Aggressive and demanding. Not a lady at all. But damn if he didn’t find the whole thing arousing. She was sitting nearly naked, cross-legged, and his eyes settled upon her bare skin. Then she licked the juices off her fingers, her tongue flicking in and out making him squirm.

“You are afraid I won’t know how to act if I drink too much.”

“No,” he said, knowing exactly how she’d act and craving a repetition of the last time they’d been intimate. “I was thinking along the lines of baby Zarek’s benefit. If you are nursing, it may not be wise to be well in your cups.”

“Men know naught of babies,” she said, gathering up the platter and goblet and getting to her feet. “If I drink wine, ’twill actually calm the baby when I let him suckle. ’Twill not harm him, I assure you.”

A knock on the door interrupted them again, and he was thankful the servants were early. This time several pages entered with a large wooden tub in their grip. Chamber maids followed behind them with buckets of hot water and a soft, flower-scented soap and towels.

More servants marched in behind them, all dumping the buckets of steaming water into the tub. Lysandra handed her dishes to one of the chambermaids, and in exchange took the drying cloth she’d been holding. Zarek saw her separate them, realizing there were two, just as he had instructed.

“I will only need one, thank you.”

She handed the other back to the girl. Zarek stepped forward, retrieving it from the girl and dismissing her. When the servants had all left and they were alone once again, he turned to her and held up the cloth.

“This one is for me,” he told her, reaching down to unfasten his breeches.

Lysandra stood motionless, her eyes fastened on Zarek’s hand. He meant to bathe with her! He had just assumed after the way he had treated her she would even agree to the idea.

“Don’t!” she warned him.

Zarek looked up, his hand stilling. His eyes swept past her, then to the baby and then past the tub.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t undress. You will not be bathing with me.”

He dropped the drying cloth to the floor and reached down and removed his sandals. “Wasn’t it you who commented of the foul smell of my tunic?”

“Yes, but - ”

“And wasn’t it you who demanded a hot bath be brought to the room?”

“I did. But for me only. The stench of the dungeon clings to me and I long to be rid of it.”

He chuckled, and pulled his tunic over his head, exposing his bare chest. Strong and sturdy he stood with his tunic in his hands, his eyes interlocked with hers.

“Well the stench of my son’s mishaps cling to me, and I long to be rid of it as well. I do not take a fancy to a wench telling me what I can or cannot do in my own bedchamber.” In an act of obvious defiance, he dropped the tunic at her feet.

Lysandra’s Amazon instincts told her this was only a test of dominance. If she challenged him by demanding he leave, he would most likely send her back to the dungeon to prove his power, and she would never feel the hot water on her aching muscles. Having given birth recently, she longed to replenish her energy. The pain wore on her now, as the ride upon the horse had been very jolting. She had never felt more exhausted.

She looked over to the tub, steaming with the fulfilling promise of a relaxing bath to aid her hurts. Then she looked back to Zarek and wanted to slap the smile right off his face. He knew had badly she wanted this, yet he still challenged her to back down. Nay. She would not surrender her wants because of his absurd game.

“I do not like a man who assumes he can take my bath away from me.” She undid the lacing on her bodice, and drew it up and over her head. She met his challenge, dangling it from her finger and then carelessly dropping it at his feet. His eyes opened wide, and settled upon her bare breasts. She had regained control.

“You are welcome to the tub,” he told her. “But I will be in it as well.” He undid the knot at his waist and let his breeches fall to the rushes on the floor. He gingerly stepped out of them, leaving him totally naked.

Lysandra couldn’t help but let her eyes fall past his waist. His desire to couple with her was strong, and he did naught to hide it. The firelight flickered over his bare, bronzed skin and she had the overwhelming urge to run her fingers over every bit of his body. She reached down and pulled off her skirt, then kicked the worn goatskin boots from her feet.

“Fine,” she said. “But if you so much as lay a finger on me I’ll - ”

His lips caressed hers before she could finish. His hands were around her waist, pulling their naked bodies together. His chest pushed up against hers, and she found herself liking it. She wrapped her hands around his neck and gripped his long hair.

His tongue entered her mouth, warming her down to her toes. Thoughts of the night they’d coupled ran rampant through her mind. The ecstasy she’d felt as their bodies joined and she shattered in his arms was calling to her, making her want to do it all again.

He swept her off her feet and carried her to the tub, all the while her heart pounding in trepidation. He lowered her into the water slowly, his mouth still pressed against hers in a torrent of unbridled passion. He eagerly kissed and bit at her lip and she did the same in return. Aggressor to aggressor, they gripped each other’s hair, tongues dueling in a sparring act of persuasive surrender within their mouths. Then in a desperate act to regain her breath, Lysandra pulled away. Zarek frowned.

“I am king and will be the one to make the advances,” he said. “Your warrior personality would be better to stay outside my bedchamber.”

“As long as my son is here, this is my bedchamber as well.”

She took the soap from the dish and started scrubbing her body furiously. Even in the midst of a romantic moment he saw to remind her of whom he was. She lathered her arms and neck and then ran the soap over her breasts. It wasn’t until she noticed a slight groan on his part that she knew he was squirming below the water. Using his arousal to her advantage, she seductively rubbed her upper torso.

“I want you,” he said in a sultry whisper.

Lysandra smiled to herself. He wasn’t as powerful as he claimed, and now she knew his weakness.

“You lust for me,” she corrected him. “Admit it.”

“Aye,” he said, moving closer. “I cannot stop thinking of the night we coupled. I want to do it again.”

She should have stopped taunting him, but didn’t. She put down the soap and splashed water over her body, then dipped under the water to wash her hair. When she emerged, he was on his knees, moving toward her. She quickly stood, meaning to leave the tub, but he pulled her down atop his lap. His desire for her had grown, and so had his impatience.

“Couple with me,” he commanded.

“I cannot,” she said, pushing away. “I have just recently given birth and I must wait to heal. You will have to find your pleasures elsewhere.”

The baby started crying, and Lysandra quickly looked across the room. He released her and sank back down into the water.

“How long will it be until you can couple again?”

She stepped from the tub and hurriedly wrapped the drying cloth around her.

“I don’t know.”

Her lower body still throbbed in pain from the birth, but now there was a different kind of throbbing. Zarek, king of Thrace, held her interest, and she should be ashamed. Amazons didn’t need men, yet she felt as if she needed everything he had to offer. She picked up her son and sat on the bed.

Zarek watched from the tub as Lysandra cuddled his son to her face, and then removed the cloth from her body, and brought him to her breast. The infant suckled hungrily, and a stab of jealousy bit into him. How he wanted to be in that position. She possessed him, holding his senses captive. She had given him the son he had always wanted - the heir to rule his kingdom upon his demise. But now she denied him what he so desperately needed. Nine months trapped in her power, not being able to find the desire to couple with anyone but her. This brash, defiant, commanding Amazon had done something to overpower him. He cold no longer think with a clear head when she was near.

He picked up the soft soap she had discarded, using it to try to cleanse himself of his lust for this woman, but it did not help. The soft suckling sounds of the baby and the cooing and gentle murmurs of Lysandra’s voice were driving him mad. He scrubbed furiously and ducked under the water, trying to think of anything else. Never had he felt this way toward any woman. He had courted many ladies in his days, but not with one of them had he felt such an attraction as he did with Lysandra.

Being raised a thief, he wasn’t used to being denied what he wanted. He always took what he wanted, without asking. But this was different. He had taken Lysandra once for his own needs, but only because she had been using him as well. He would not take her again unless it was with her approval. Though he often coupled in lust, Lysandra was more than just a night of pleasure. She was the mother of his only child. A part of her would always be with him through his son. That thought alone made her special in his eyes.

When he watched her hold and feed his son, he felt something he never had before. He couldn’t explain it, but it was almost like respect. Strangely enough, even though this man-hater wanted nothing to do with him, he couldn’t help but feel he no longer wanted her to leave his side. Not just for the baby’s sake, but because her presence sparked a new life in him. She was a treasure he could not have. But more than that, he felt like somehow they were meant for each other.

When he emerged from the water, she had put down the baby and was already half clothed. She kept her back to him, and he slipped from the tub and quickly clothed himself. How had he let her take control of his mind and body so easily? What was this power she held over his emotions?

He had just finished dressing when the knock came at the door. He gave Lysandra a moment to pull on her skirt before he opened it.

“Lord Zarek!” Daedalus, eyes wide, spoke quickly, waving his hands in the air. “They’re approaching the castle, and the men cannot hold them back any longer.”

“Who?” asked Zarek, running a comb through his hair.

“The Amazons. They have come for Lysandra and the baby. And that’s not all. Harpies have been spotted over the cliffs. The archers want to know if they should ward them off?”

“Harpies?” asked Lysandra, coming to Zarek’s side with the calm baby in her hands. “They have been attacking the Amazons lately, though I don’t know why. They want something from us. Harpies are persistent. They won’t leave us alone until they get what they came for.”

“Well, whatever it is, they are not taking it without a fight.”

Zarek donned his sandals and strapped his sword onto his waist. Then he headed out to the battlements with Daedalus and Lysandra following.

“Go back to the bedchamber with my son at once,” he told Lysandra.

“I am an Amazon,” she reminded him. “I will not hide. I will stay and stand proud just like my tribe.”

“Your tribe is here to take you and the baby if you haven’t forgotten.”

He quit the castle and headed across the bailey. Guards ran to and fro, readying their weapons. Mothers collected up their children, rushing for the great hall. Women screamed and servants hid in the bakehouse or the mews. The horses whinnied and pulled at their tethers inside the stable as Zarek rushed by.