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  “I tell you this because we will speak again tomorrow. I want you to have something to contemplate until then. Because, Seraphime” – he grabbed her chin, turning her head until she was forced to look him in the eyes – “if I am not satisfied with the answers you provide me, I need not exact my displeasure on you alone. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Barely able to force the words past her lips in spite of the fact that he had finally released her throat, Seraphime heard her voice crack, her assent hardly audible.

  “Good.”

  She felt as though she’d just sold her soul. In a way, she supposed she had.

  Chapter 7:

  The Throw of Aphrodite

  In Galilae, women – even those who are free by title – are little better than slaves. We are bought and traded in much the same way, and the patriarchs in our lives will always hold our fates in their hands. If we are to have any chance of improving our lot in life, my darling, we must learn to beat them at their own game.

  – Adonia of House Galanis, Queen of Galilae

  Persephone lay awake, staring unseeingly at the ceiling above her. She had been sure the general would agree to see her. Especially after the fiasco in the courtyard.

  Shit!

  Seraphime had been taken as soon as the demonstration was over. The general had walked away with hardly a second glance. Terrified, Persephone could only wait. Wait and pray that nothing would go wrong before a deal could be struck. Koli slept soundly, tucked securely into Persephone’s side. Her rhythmic breathing was a balm. For the moment she was safe. Persephone would do anything to see that she remained so.

  At long last Persephone heard the scrape of the key entering the door. Gently extracting herself, so as not to wake the sleeping child, she stood waiting when the door swung open. The soldier was one she recognized – he’d been present for each of her most recent escorts and he was the one who had taken the carafe from Koli in the Grand Hall. She knew neither his name nor his rank. Fortunately, he did not insist she be shackled, though she noted a second soldier walked with them down the hallway. Persephone was mindful to ensure her expression appeared complacent and she allowed a hint of the fear she genuinely felt to show through.

  He’d called her at his leisure, but at least the general had decided to see her. It surprised her when she was led to the doors to her parents’ bedroom. Not that he had claimed the room as his own; rather she had expected the need to push for a private audience. He either no longer considered her a threat, or he had already assumed how this conversation would go. She was not sure which gave her the stronger advantage.

  Opening the door, the secondary guard – the one she hadn’t recognized – gave her a knowing smirk as she passed. She would have liked to deliver a sharp hit to his groin, but the general was unlikely to believe any injury to his man was accidental. Because violence was not a viable option, she settled for a mocking smile and a coquettish wave as he closed the door behind her.

  It had been years since she had been in her parents’ bedroom. Not since she was nine. As far as she could tell, little had changed. The doors opened into a spacious sitting area. It could be considered an antechamber if there were something separating it from the sleeping quarters, but nothing did. It was one vast room. In the middle of the sitting area, two plush couches sat perpendicular to one another with a low-set table in between them. Just as it was in all the bedrooms occupied by the royal family or guests, the table was kept supplied with finger foods – fruits, dried meats, some cheese – along with whatever drink might be requested.

  On the other side of the room was the sleeping area. The bed rested against the middle of the furthest wall. Should either of their Highnesses require an overnight attendant, several plain chairs lined the wall near the bed. The neighboring walls on both sides were lined with dressers, housing the numerous garments available to the king and queen. Frescos colored every wall in addition to the ceiling, depicting everything from everyday life, to historic events, the gods, old children’s stories. They were beautiful, if a bit outdated. They’d been painted centuries ago. At one time Persephone had been obsessed with them. With deciphering the stories the pictures told. Not anymore.

  Leaning against one of the dressers stood the general. Divested of his armor and tunic, wearing only his subligaria, he looked as though he belonged in the room. She deemed the thought as inappropriate and swatted it from her mind. He belonged in Galilae as much as her father, the king, believed she belonged on the throne. Not. At. All.

  He’d said nothing as she took in her surroundings. The nostalgia she’d felt at returning to her parents’ bedroom surprised her. Disliking that she’d allowed herself to be so swept away by the past, she prepared herself for the game to come.

  She eyed the general appreciatively. “Well, well. You made yourself right at home.”

  His arms were crossed, which belied the casual way he leaned against the long bureau. She blatantly looked at his bare shoulders and chest. Followed the well-sculpted lines of his stomach all the way down to the interesting vee that disappeared under the top of his briefs. At least she wouldn’t have to fake a physical attraction. When she finally raked her gaze back up his body to meet his eyes, they sparkled with amusement. A self-satisfied smile touched his lips.

  “You wished to speak with me, Princess?”

  She began to move towards him, a sly smile of her own sliding seamlessly into place. “I requested an audience.” She didn’t stop walking until she stood directly in front of him. He was a full head taller, and from this close she had to look up. “Who said anything about speaking?”

  “What do you want?” His smile softened his hard words.

  Closing the last bit of distance between them, she stood on her toes and brushed a trail with her nose and lips, from the hollow at the base of his throat, up his neck to the spot just below his ear. “What makes you think I want anything?”

  “Common sense.” His voice sounded slightly husky.

  She traced her fingertips down his sides to the vee at the base of his stomach. Grazed his jaw line with her teeth. “Does it matter?”

  He caught her wrists, forcing her hands away from his body as he turned his head sharply. Their lips were almost touching. “It might.”

  Hands still restrained, she smiled playfully and pressed her body flush against him, maintaining a breath of distance between their mouths. “Do you not want me?” Without his armor between them, she easily felt the evidence of his desire pressed against her.

  “The answer to your question is obvious.”

  With a sigh, she kissed his collarbone as she rubbed against him. “Then I fail to see the problem.”

  Suddenly he released her wrists to grab her hips. Only, rather than pulling her closer, he roughly pushed her to arm’s length. “You still have yet to tell me what you expect to get out of this.”

  “Not a gambling man?” Her mouth quirked in a slightly mocking grin.

  He snorted derisively. “Calculated risk. I like to know what it is I am agreeing to before the fact.”

  With a small laugh, she turned. Moving at her leisure, she took several steps toward the door, dragging one hand along the top of the bureau as she went. “Just as I said.” She let the thought trail off with a wink thrown over her shoulder.

  When she turned, the general stood exactly as he had when she walked in. He watched her. Waiting. His gaze predatory. Getting what she wanted from men was always easier in the afterglow, when they found themselves well sated and sleepy. They were so agreeable then. She’d known he wasn’t a fool but had hoped to use his obvious attraction against his better judgment. He’d not taken the bait. It wasn’t her first choice, but she was prepared to play this his way. She crossed her arms, matching his stance.

  “I want to ensure that my mother, Kolimpri, and Seraphime are deemed permanently untouchable to your men.” All humor and teasing had fled.

  “And in exchange?” His expression instantly guarded.r />
  “I am pleased to be at your beck and call. Prepared to serve your every whim.” She ran her fingers along the inside of her chiton, tracing the fabric from her collarbone over the slope of her breast to where her zoster hit just below her bust.

  His face remained impassive as his eyes tracked the movement. “You forget,” he said as he stalked towards her. “If I want you to serve my whims, I need not obtain your permission.”

  This time when he crowded her, she wasn’t restrained. Nor was she trying to convince him of her repentant spirit. She stood her ground. Striking as quickly as any viper, he grabbed her. Lifting her and roughly setting her on top of the bureau. He was as fast as she’d assumed he would be. Heart slamming in her chest, her breath attempted to catch in her lungs. Every last ounce of her wanted to fight, to lash out, when he brutishly pushed up her skirts to position himself between her thighs. It was a struggle, but she won the battle against her sense of self-preservation and offered him no resistance.

  With one hand resting on the surface on either side of her hips, he leaned into her, forcing her to lean back. No way of knowing for certain, she hoped this was merely an intimidation tactic. He could have taken her had he really wanted to in the Grand Hall, yet he had not. Just as he had not exacted his initial punishment and had Seraphime repeatedly raped when she’d slaughtered Prodotin, allowing Persephone to strike a deal instead. She couldn’t explain his behavior – not yet – but something told her he wanted her willing. Correct in her assumption or not, she was committed at this point.

  “You speak truth. My permission is not required.” The calm infused into her voice was forced. “However, I promise that you will enjoy me more if I am here by my choice.” To emphasize her point she sensuously dragged his bottom lip between her teeth before pulling back again. If she was wrong about him, she would sorely regret it. She prayed she was right.

  Placing one hand on the side of her neck, he mimicked her earlier action by tracing her throat with his teeth and lips. The heat of his breath just below her ear sent chills racing down her spine and heat pooling in her stomach. Her body’s reaction was unexpected. Having never experienced anything like it, she had easily written off her arousal in the Grand Hall as a fluke. However, it would seem her physical response to him was authentic.

  “Three for one?” said with a gentle nip along her jaw, just below her ear. “Up your ante.” He’d moved his hand from her neck to tangle in her hair, using it to angle her head as he continued to dust her neck and jaw with gentle nips and feathery kisses.

  “A gambling man after all?” Her eyes fluttered, and it took a concentrated effort on her part not to allow them to drift closed.

  “Your words, not mine.” Releasing her hair, he ran his hand lightly down her throat, her collarbone, the slope of her breast, her stomach, until he ran both hands simultaneously around her hips and grabbed her ass. Pulling her closer to the edge of the surface, he ground his erection into her.

  A jolt ran from her core through her stomach.

  “What shall it be, Seph?” His breath hot in her ear sent shivers through her. “Are you to give me something I can work with, or have we finished?”

  “What do you want?” Thoughts of the two of them, sweating, sliding against one another clouded her brain.

  He was currently tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue. She had no idea when, but at some point he had run a hand back up her side and now it rested along the outside of one breast. He lazily brushed his thumb back and forth over her nipple through the thin fabric of her chiton. With every flick, little shocks of pleasure added to the growing ache between her thighs. He lightly kissed the corner of her mouth.

  “I want more.”

  His thumb still teased torturously. Back and forth. It was all she could concentrate on.

  “Men always do.” If she wasn’t so aroused, the fact that she was breathless would have embarrassed her. At least she had formed words. She couldn’t remember ever having been so affected by a man. Nothing in her extensive experience even compared. “Name a price, so we can see a bargain struck.”

  “Hmm.” He’d moved his attentions to the other side of her neck and was now alternating between lightly sucking and nibbling her earlobe and planting kisses just below it. “If I do this for you, I want you to do something for me.”

  “I’ve offered to do something for you.”

  She rained kisses along his collarbone and raked her nails softly down his back. The sensation had him arching, grinding into her, yet again.

  “Out of the bedroom.”

  “You wish me to fuck you outside of the bedroom?” she teased innocently. She didn’t like the direction this conversation was heading and had opted to play dumb.

  “You will help to convince your family to proceed as if nothing is amiss.”

  Planting her palm firmly on his chest, she pushed him away from her. Her faculties were the one thing she would need most if they were to have any hope of recovering from this dismal situation. She could not afford to have him stripping them from her at such a time.

  “I am no traitor.”

  “You would fuck your enemy, but refuse to do this?”

  “Will you really fault me for manipulating what I can with what I have?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Come now, General. As a soldier, surely you understand making sacrifices in battle in order to win the war.”

  “So I am to understand you are nobly sacrificing yourself for the cause?” Neither his tone nor his expression betrayed his feelings.

  Arching her back to push her breasts out, she trailed her hand down his stomach, tracing the top of his briefs with a finger when she reached them. “Worse sacrifices have been made,” she told him with a coy smile.

  “The die has been cast, Princess. You lose. Do this, or there will be no deal.”

  Chapter 8:

  A Little Death

  Marriage is the only war in which you sleep with the enemy.

  – Proverb

  Augustine watched her closely. She clearly wasn’t happy about the proposition. He could practically see her mind running through and discarding solutions. This wasn’t the plan, but he wanted her, and she was willing. Mostly. After everything that had happened in the past day, he’d expected her to petition for her family, which she had. The truth was, he would have done as she requested without additional gain. Persephone was the only one he wanted, and she’d offered herself readily; since there were a multitude of others to satisfy the desires of the men with him, sparing three would make no difference. But he was an opportunist. Had Cato himself not argued that Augustine needed to find a way to secure her compliance? He doubted this was what Cato had in mind, but Augustine was one to make the best of the circumstances presented him.

  “Convince them to proceed through the day as normally as possible? No more?”

  Augustine shrugged. “I expect you to encourage them to do anything I ask.”

  “A line must be drawn somewhere. I do not know what you think me capable of, but even I could not convince my father to, for example, lay down his crown. He would see all of Galilae burn before agreeing to such a thing. I will not have their safety contingent on his pride.”

  She had a solid point. As carefully laid out as the plan was, he still wasn’t sure Acheron would agree to the terms. All the more reason to enlist Persephone’s aid in swaying him. “Agreed. Within reason, you will help me to sway your family toward compliance.”

  “Still so vague? You ask more than I am willing to give, General.”

  “I command everything, Princess.”

  Augustine lifted a hand to cup the side of her neck, brushing her jaw with his thumb. Starting at her knee, he traced the inside of her thigh. Slowly moving his fingers towards her cunt. Persephone’s breathing picked up subtly. She didn’t flinch. Nor halt his progress. Her expression was triumphant at his sharp intake of breath upon reaching the apex of her thighs. Finding her already wet.

&n
bsp; “Tell me, Persephone.” He lightly kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, before finally moving his lips to her ear. Cupping her sex, he dropped his hand from her neck and wrapped his arm around her waist. Augustine pulled her all the way to the edge of the bureau and tilted her hips toward him. Like Seraphime, no hair covered her mound, and though he’d expected it, the fact pleased Augustine. It wasn’t just that it was new and different – though undoubtedly that was part of the enticement – he enjoyed how soft her skin was beneath his fingertips. Enjoyed the easy way his hand slid against her.

  “Tell me, Persephone, do you hate it that your body is so aroused by mine?”

  He slipped one finger into her slick cunt while Persephone grabbed a fistful of his hair. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. “Would you enjoy this more, or less, if I hated it?”

  His laugh was husky. “You are very good.” A second finger joined the first and he used them to firmly massage the front of her channel while he ground the palm of his hand against her key. Persephone rocked her hips on his hand. “You are also not a maid.” Augustine couldn’t see her face, but he felt the momentary tensing of her muscles. He wondered if she would lie.

  She continued to roll her hips in rhythm with the movement of his hand. “Maids are overprized. So shy. No idea how to please a man.” Persephone used his hair to pull his head back until she was looking him in the eye.

  She’d tugged hard enough that it felt like a warning, but he still found the sting on his scalp erotic. “You think you know how to please me?”

  The corners of her mouth turned down in a sexy pout. “Are you not pleased?”

  She sucked on his bottom lip. Naturally, he considered what it would be like to have her suck on other parts of his anatomy.