My Spartan Hellion Read Online Free Page A

bidding because he said so, then he was sorely mistaken. He’d spoken of his honour, but what of hers?
    There was no honour in allowing the man who’d killed Darius and kidnapped her to continue to breathe, as if the lives he’d shattered were meaningless. Her destiny was to return to Athens—and she was bound by her honour to deliver death to Atallus’ door.

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    Lamia felt a gentle nudge against her shoulder. With a sleepy moan, she stretched out her arms and legs, easing the knots in her still sore muscles.
    The rasp of the soft wool across her skin jolted her fully awake, and for several moments she was startled to find she was not on the cold, hard earth of Atallus’ floor. She looked about the unfamiliar room, while at the same time the events of yestereve flooded her mind. A sigh trembled out of her. She was no longer Atallus’ prisoner, his slave.
    She was safe.
    Stifling a yawn, she blinked her eyes as she struggled to adjust to the faint light in the small space. That was when she saw him, and her breath thinned in her chest as her blurred gaze clashed with his.
    On this day, his crystalline blue eyes were translucent as the sky as he peered down at her, his raven hair curling around his shoulders. His locks were wet—from a bath, perhaps—and the heavy tendrils clung tightly to his skin. Her attention left his face to travel the length of his body, and she stilled, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at him.
    He was nude.
    His chest rippled with muscles, meeting the hard planes of his chiselled stomach, while powerful arms, corded with sinew, rested along his sides, perfectly defined. She dipped her gaze lower, swallowing the hard lump in her throat when his manhood stiffened before her eyes, as if awakening from its slumber. His root stood thick and long, jutting out proudly from its nest of coal black hair that coiled around it.
    She snapped her wandering gaze back to his face, her cheeks boiling hot with embarrassment.
    His lips furled into a wicked grin, his eyes dancing with laughter. “I came to wake you. We depart shortly.” He nodded before turning to leave.
    And as he stalked away, she ogled his massive legs and taut ass, admiring how the muscles in his back flexed with each powerful step he took.
    She remained transfixed by his muscular back, but her appreciation soon gave way to alarm as sickening horror settled in the pit of her rolling belly. What seemed like hundreds of tiny lines crisscrossed his entire back.
    He’d been whipped—repeatedly—and she gulped in dismay, wondering whatever he had done to receive such a horrible punishment.
     
    * * * *
     
    The scorching waves of the desert heat crashed down upon her, choking her, and Lamia wiped at the sweat trickling along her brow as the blistering sun battered them mercilessly. They would travel south towards Sparta—the journey taking at least half a fortnight, if they were lucky.
    Already her muscles ached and she released a soft groan as she shifted in the saddle, tensing when her buttocks brushed against Thanos.
    “Relax,” he murmured close to her ear, the sound of his deep voice washing over her like a gentle breeze. She shivered as his warm breath feathered across the sensitive skin along the side of her neck, coaxing tiny goosebumps from her heated flesh.
    “I am fine,” she gritted out, but she was far from it. Her backside was sore, her back hurt, and her muscles throbbed with pain from holding herself so rigidly.
    He chuckled, the husky rumble resonating through her entire body as it seemingly crossed the narrow space between them to enfold her in its intimate warmth.
    “I do not bite,” he said with laughter in his voice.
    Lamia whipped her head around to glare at him. “I said I was fine.”
    By the gods, he was handsome when he smiled. The harsh planes of his face softened and his piercing eyes danced with merriment as he stared down at her. Afraid that her eyes would betray her,