My Spartan Hellion (38 page)

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.”

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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. That 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.

There was no need for pretence for he knew she was there, knew why she was there, just as he knew nothing would stop her.

Adonis.

He bore the face of an angel, and, with a simple touch, a single look, he could inflame the passions of both women
and
men.

His beauty and the desire he ignited with his touch—some said it was his gift, others said it was his curse

As Adonis stood in the doorway to his suite, staring into the ravished eyes of his past, he knew that this woman who had found pleasure beneath his touch was equally cursed by it.

He stepped aside and let her in.

The cobra entering the lion’s den. She was small…delicate even. To be disarmed by her diminutive stature was to be foolish. She was dangerous, deadly, and she’d come there to kill.

He closed the door behind her with a soft, ominous thud—the locking of the door sealing his fate…and hers. Tonight would forever change their lives, just as that night sixteen years ago—on this very same date—had irreparably altered their destinies.

There was no turning back—no space for redemption, for forgiveness.

“Selena.”

She turned at the deep, husky lilt of her name on his lips. His accent was rich and heady, like potent brandy. Her shawl slipped to her shoulders as she lifted her head and met his gaze.

Piercing amber eyes bore into her, seeing through her, inside her, searing her body, marking her very soul. She shuddered despite herself. He knew the effect he had on women, men…
her
. Yet he did not gloat—he appeared to take no pleasure in the tightening of her nipples against her dress, the slight dilation of her pupils. And for a moment she wondered
why
?

“You know why I am here.” Selena spoke softly, deliberately avoiding the use of his name. The last time she’d said it, she’d cried it out in the wake of blinding pleasure. Every time she thought his name, she heard it floating from her lips in the throes of release and it shamed her.

“I do,” he said, crossing the room, his back to her. His long strides ate up the distance between him and the bar hidden in a shadowed corner of the expansive suite. It was a long while before he turned to face her again, a small glass of liquor in his hand.

“You are here to kill me,” he uttered after swallowing the contents of his glass in a single gulp.

“And, yet, you are relaxed for a man who is about to die.” His easy manner was her first clue.

“Am I about to die, Selena?” He set his glass down.

“You know why I am here,” she repeated. She should have felt fear…been anxious, wary. He would not simply lie down and allow her to take his life. She knew this—just as surely as she knew, no matter the trap he sprang, she was ready, and she would prevail. Her lust for revenge would accept no less.

“You are here to kill me, but that does not mean I shall die.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You desire revenge, and you shall have it.” He stalked across the room towards her, his steps deliberate. He moved with a sensual, practised grace that demanded attention, that captivated and seduced.

Selena felt the pull of that attraction all the way to the core of her, even as she pushed it to the dark corners of her mind and ignored it. His seductive grace was both sexual and deadly. He was a predator—a killer—trained to take life, to destroy it…just as he was a trained seducer—the bringer of pleasure—trained to inspire lust and fuel it.

“Revenge is a strange thing, Selena. It consumes its owner. It consumes their life.” He halted before her, his breath sweet and heavy against her face. The pungent scent of alcohol tickled her nostrils with each breath she drew in.

“I imagine you have killed me a thousand times—swiftly, slowly, painfully, mercilessly…” He smiled, the perfect smile of an angel, a god. “But death, whether painful and slow or swift and merciful, is not what you seek. To deliver death to one such as I would be too kind. I deserve more than death.” His breath hovered between them and her heart thudded to the rhythm of his inhalation, his exhalation. She tried to remain unaffected by him—yet she couldn’t. With every breath, every smile, every blink of his eyes, she was all too painfully aware until her senses were full of him.