My Spartan Hellion (37 page)

“He was supposed to remain in Athens until the Romans had defeated Sparta and Thebes, but he didn’t, and now the Romans refuse to continue filling my coffers. They think I’ve betrayed them, so I cannot go to Rome, and now I cannot even go back to Athens. Euripydes and Thanos know the truth and have issued a warrant for my arrest across all of Greece.” His eyes turned colder as he stalked towards her, froth foaming on his lips.

“The Romans would have given me a hefty payment for you as a prisoner, the
queen
of Sparta,” he mocked. “But the fools lost, so there is no one to pay me. I have nothing and it is all your husband’s fault. Thanos has taken everything from me, so now I shall take everything from him.”

Lamia did not know what he was talking about. His words of treason were probably just the ramblings of a demented mind…but if they weren’t, and he’d actually betrayed the Greek city-states to Rome, then he had every reason to be desperate, because there was no place he could go without being brought to justice.

Atallus stooping down beside her reminded Lamia that no matter what she thought he may have done, she
knew
what he planned to do now
.
So, when his filthy hand reached out to grasp her bound ankles, she thrashed wildly against him until he trapped her legs down with the weight of his body. Dagger in hand, he sawed effortlessly through the ropes, but as soon as the ropes fell from her ankles, he slipped from his position of bearing down on her legs, and she kicked at him violently, striking him in his chest, across his face, anywhere she could.

Triumph surged through her when squeals of pain erupted from him as he fought against her flailing legs. But her joy was short-lived when he finally managed to grasp her ankles again, wrenching her legs apart. Without the use of her hands, she could not keep him from seizing her, and her stomach churned as he stared between her thighs.

She struggled violently when he leant forward to rub his body against hers, the foul stench of him stinging her eyes.

She worked frantically at the ropes, her shoulders burning from the effort as pain ripped through her wounded side, yet Lamia did not stop. Not even when vomit rose to the back of her throat, when she felt him fumbling with the layers of his
chlamys
and he released his slimy erection to rub it against her skin, did she stop.

But when his eyes glazed over with lust and he fisted his tiny cock to point it at her entrance, she halted her struggles just long enough to butt him in the head with her own. The blow stung, but she ignored the pain. He shrieked loudly as he clutched at his forehead and she used that moment of distraction to buck him off her as the ropes finally loosened around her wrists.

Shucking her bindings aside, she scrambled to her feet, only to sway when a wave of dizziness struck her.

Grasping her head with one hand, she placed the other against the wall, using it to steady her. She took a few hesitant steps towards the door. She needed to get out of there. She was still too weak to fight Atallus in her condition. If she could just get out of there, she could get to Thanos and then he could come back and arrest Atallus—

Pain shot up her spine as her head violently snapped back and she screamed. Twisting around, she wrenched her hair from Atallus’ gnarled fingers, wincing when clumps from her mane remained in his tight fist. She swung around again, racing towards the door. She was almost there, but then he grasped her ankle, sending her sprawling to the ground on her hands and knees.

She delivered several mule kicks trying to shake him off, but he wouldn’t budge. Wrestling over onto her back she ignored the pain in her leg as her body went one way while her foot remained pointed in the other direction, her ankle still imprisoned in his grasp. Rearing back, she lifted her free leg and rammed her foot into his face as hard as she could. The sharp snap of shattering bones reverberated in the small room as his head flew back at an unnatural angle, but she didn’t waste time to see if he was alive or dead as she shook free of his grasp and limped to her feet.

She reached for the door at the same time that it crashed inward, sending her jumping back with a tiny yelp. Her heart skipped a beat at the first sight of him—an enraged Thanos charging through the doorway with Ulysseus and Adonis on his heels.

Once they’d ascertained she was no longer in danger, the latter two men quickly ducked back outside, their faces red with embarrassment at her naked state.

Her attention returned to Thanos. He called her name as he rushed towards her. Dragging her into his arms, he held her close. Every breath he took was ragged, each one of them shuddering through her. When he finally did release her, his hands shook as he cupped her cheeks, his gaze roaming across her face.

“D-did he hurt you?” he choked out.

She sensed the depth of his question, knowing what he was truly asking when his eyes raked her badly bruised face and naked body.

“No.” She shook her head. “I am fine,” she said shakily, circling him with her arms, holding him tight. “How did you find me?” she asked when he finally drew away from her to wrap her tattered
peplos
around her body.

“Armine was the key. She was the one who provided the clue that it was Atallus who’d kidnapped you. But you also left hints. You dropped your dagger where he grabbed you. And we followed the trail of blood from that spot until it stopped. We then traced a circle of the area. I wanted to check every shop and house nearby, but Ulysseus was adamant that Atallus was staying at a boarding home. This was the only boarding home close by, and the owner gave us the room number of a man who fit Atallus’ description. Thankfully, Ulysseus was right and I listened to him.”

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 grinned 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.