Spartan Heart, Part Two Read online

  Spartan Heart, Part Two

  by Kristine Cheney

  Published by Astraea Press, LLC

  www.astraeapress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  SPARTAN HEART PART TWO

  Copyright © 2011 KRISTINE CHENEY

  ISBN 978-1-936852-22-2

  Cover Art Designed By Elaina Lee

  Edited By Audrey Jamison

  Spartan Heart, Part Two

  Chapter One

  Dorien’s name dripped from the woman’s seductive, bee-stung lips. Her blaspheme of the dead pricked Philip with a raw, grated fury. Either this little nymph was playing her sick part in Demona’s twisted game or this coincidence was a catastrophic fluke. If Philip knew better, he would trust the throb in his brain that fired every immortal receptor of instinct. There was only one thing he could count on since his transformation back into the land of the living. Demona was always up to no good.

  His gut clenched tight to consider the fate of his Spartan friend. Dorien had not only been his closest ally, but Philip had pledged an oath of allegiance to the mighty, fearless warrior. Many battles they had fought and endured. But the blessing of the gods had run out in Minoa.

  Someone pre-warned of their attack. They found themselves on the losing end of sword and arrow. Outnumbered by their enemy, one-by-one they all had fallen: Thessalus, Paraebates, Celeas, and then himself. Philip remembered well the pulsing of his life-blood spilling from his belly and coating the earth with crimson. He had lain helpless and mortally wounded, unable to render Dorien protection when a coward embedded a sword deep into the flesh of the Spartan’s unguarded back.

  The blonde beauty writhed within his grasp. Philip’s thoughts were jolted back to reality. He slipped into the woman’s mind and was taken aback. Expecting to find a viper’s den of malice and oracle-infested repulsion, instead he was swarmed by the chaos of her fast fleeting thoughts and emotions. Fear roiled a billowing plume large enough to encompass them both. Her only desire was to spare the lives of her innocent unborn babes.

  By all accounts this woman had no knowledge or memory of Demona. She was innocent of treachery. Philip was certain. Leave it to Demona to violate those who couldn’t defend themselves. He had been a fool, suckered to play his part in the witch’s despicable games. This knowledge made him feel like the worst kind of man.

  Conviction had saved him. It wouldn’t allow him to hurt a woman. He hated to threaten the girl. But his demeanor could not be softened. The tides had turned. He now needed information. If the girl wasn’t working for Demona, there was another reason the wretched Oracle sent him here. Philip had been duped and used. This wasn’t coincidence or fluke. Interrogation was now the only way to gather more pieces of this demented puzzle. His soul could be lost and forever condemned to Hades before he allowed Demona to make him her pawn of evil.

  Philip had reluctantly accepted this mission. The witch had threatened to curse him back into the form of a statue. The thought of returning to that isolated, Hadean fate was enough to make his cold, immortal skin slide clean off his bones. But to consider it now, it would have been a far better lot than living free knowing he had violated a woman. Lucky for him, this comely sprite was feisty. The act of rape was not a deed he wanted to add to his ever-growing list of post-mortal exploits. Realization hit him like a sucker punch in his belly.

  Demona knew this!

  The Oracle achieved the result she wanted. Significant damage had already been inflicted; the girl suffered deep, emotional trauma. The weight of his involvement now felt heavier than any boulder lying across the breadth of his shoulders. Demona never intended to return him to a life of stone. Most of his days had been spent waging wars and fighting fair battles. When had he become so desperate to save his own cursed existence?

  Philip gave his prisoner another intentional shake. “I am not playing games, woman! Tell me about this Dorien, now!”

  The Venus trembled beneath him. Despite her trepidation, he liked the way her copper stare flashed perdition and venom. The little spitfire had reeled his head back good when she dared to punch his face. Philip liked her sass. Calculated thoughts gave away the brilliance of her intelligence. She was as smart as she was beautiful. Her mind never ceased plotting. This woman came fully stocked with an impressive arsenal of mutiny.

  Regardless of archaic spirit, she was still instinctively female. Philip was well aware the brisk, authoritative tone of his voice forced the chill that bolted up her spine. The rise of goose bumps spread across the expanse of her arms and legs. Philip felt the pulse of every shaking ripple.

  He tried not to inhale the delicious floral-citrus scent radiating off her skin and the tantalizing blueberry aroma that drifted from the tendrils of her long honey-wheat hair. It was impossible to ignore the softest velvet feel of her bare flesh against his body, or the way his desire for her responded in fueled, wanton ache. The sight and feel of her nudity was indeed cruel; it ravaged every plateau of his sanity. How many centuries had passed since his fingers last caressed a woman?

  His teeth grit in recollection. To remember his beloved Tiana only made him wish for death. At least then he could join her in the afterlife. Philip didn’t have to close his eyes to envision the way sunlight illuminated the hues of auburn in her dark brown hair. Every time he gazed at her lovely face she was smiling.

  How he missed the shyest grin that hid her small, perfect teeth. Her brown eyes had been so rich and dark. He could have drowned in their pooled depths. Making love to his wife was magical and intense. Never had he experienced such passion. The memory of her loss still angered and reeled him. He would never get used to the trauma of existing in this world without her.

  He had yet to touch or love another woman. Loss consumed him with a suffocating pain too strong to bear. Immortality somehow amplified the intensity of his feelings. But he doubted mortality could have softened the impact of his blow. Desperate for distraction from his pain, Philip forced his attention back to his current predicament. The warmth of this woman’s skin stirred every masculine feeling he had locked away tight. His own senses betrayed him. Smell and touch tortured every facet of his mind and body.

  Philip felt the tiny flutters against his abdomen. He heard every galloped beat of her children’s tiny, growing hearts. The ripe curve of her belly and her full, darkened breasts were evident. There was no denying her delicate condition. But how could this woman profess to love a man and choose to keep the knowledge of his children a secret? She could call it anything she liked. He called it blatant deception.

  Reading her thoughts, she still believed his intention was to assault her. Terror was written all over her face. The large dilation of her pupils was vacant in distress. Tears rolled down her flawless, maternal glowing cheeks. Her fragile body trembled with fear. The sick feeling in his gut only encouraged the foreboding instinct that promised he wasn’t going to like her answer. She stammered when she finally spoke.

  “D-d-dorien is thirty-four! He is tall, strong, and muscular. H-h-his build is similar to yours. The similarities between you are unbelievable; only his shoulders are broader and his chest has no hair.” She sniffed through tears.

  It was torture to watch her full lips quiver.

  “Like you, his
hair is as black as raven, thick, but with curls against his neck. His eyes are the color of the rarest green emeralds.”

  Philip shook her again and watched her head roll from side to side. “What else? You are holding something back!”

  “Dorien’s skin is cold,” she sobbed. “He’s immortal and has the strength of a bear. I’ve never seen him sleep. I wish the man would eat a meal with me.”

  “Think of his face! Show me his face!”

  Her long, tear-soaked golden lashes fluttered closed. Philip saw the familiar image of the Spartan burning vivid in her mind. Shock and agony caused him to shudder. His head reeled. The muscles in his belly flexed so tight, they actually separated.

  No! This cannot be!

  He wasn’t alone.

  His protective wall of pent up anguish collapsed. Clenching his jaw, he tried to fight the waves of emotion welling up inside of him. Willpower somehow helped him not to choke. How could his warrior friend survive the passing of time and centuries? Philip rolled off of her body and ran into her bedroom in a flash. He returned fully dressed and in control of his scattered thoughts. Dorien was alive! This knowledge rekindled his hope. A shiny, red silk robe hung seductively over his forearm.

  He crouched and laid the garment beside her on the floor. She flinched and jerked her face away from him the moment his fingers stroked the softness of her cheek. Her thoughts were rebellious. She imagined gouging his eyes from the safety of their sockets. Philip denied the overwhelming urge to chuckle at her fancy. It was no wonder this little minx had captured his best friend’s heart. Despite the enchantment of her cover, her logic and steadfast will was enough to rival the wits of any noble queen.

  Philip couldn’t deny himself. It was sinful pleasure to look upon the fairness of her face. “You are so lovely and magnificent. Please delight me with the honor of your name.”

  It was a botched attempt to soothe her. By the gods, he wanted to make her feel better. He didn’t miss the rosy flush of embarrassment flooding her skin. Her arms crossed over her naked body in shame in a desperate attempt to cover her nudity. The sting of her humiliation pierced him. But it was he who felt ashamed. He pushed the robe towards her to encourage her to find cover.

  “I am still waiting for you to tell me your name.”

  “E-evangeline. M-my name is Evangeline.”

  “Please, Evangeline. My name is Philip. I humbly beg for your forgiveness. If you would only listen to my reasons for being here…you might understand. There is no doubt I have brought the wrath of Hades upon myself. I expect to pay for what has happened here. My only hope is that my brother will be swift and merciful in his vengeance.”

  “Brother?” Evangeline shook her head. Honey-wheat curls bounced around her ripe curves. He read her thoughts. She was fighting to grasp the meaning of his words.

  Philip’s head jerked towards the rumbling sound of an approaching engine. The noise was similar to the machine belonging to Phebus. He could hear the scratching turn of tires on the cobblestone drive. The brakes of the car grated to a stop in front of the house. Masculine presence was sensed in an instant.

  Evangeline’s head snapped towards the staircase. Her mortal ears had finally heard it. Philip clenched his fists. His eyes followed her as she left him in a rush. Bolting towards the stairs, she cared nothing for her nudity. The desperation in her sob rocked his conscience. She was holding her breath, running towards the man she loved with all of her might.

  “Evangeline, wait!”

  He followed in concern for her safety. But her fear forced the belief he was back on her trail. Philip slowed his step and allowed for a bit of distance between them. She dared to look back. Philip groaned in awareness. Evangeline slipped at the top of the stairs. The concussion of her scream permeated his ears. Her fragile body tumbled towards the landing in the center of the massive staircase. Running in a flash, Philip made a calculated leap.

  He had to brace her fall!

  Evangeline struck the landing and spiraled at the split in the staircase. Gravity grabbed a hold of her body and forced her to plummet straight down towards the first floor. Philip caught her in his arms and rode the jagged slide on his back. He cradled her close until they reached the bottom step.

  Their bodies jolted to a sudden stop. Evangeline moaned in pain and rolled out of his grasp. A mortal would have never heard the weakness of her whimper. But her thoughts screamed loud. She repeated Dorien’s name. The coppered stench of blood invaded Philip’s nostrils.

  She was bleeding!

  Philip searched her body and failed to find any physical source. His attention flew to the solid angry thuds hammering against the front door. He was well aware who charged against the wood. The crisp snaps of solid mahogany splintered in forced submission. Without a doubt it was Dorien.

  Philip sensed Dorien’s rage and fear. The Spartan was well aware something foul was amiss. Gazing around the room, he retrieved a quilted blanket and covered Evangeline’s nakedness. She lay limp on her side with her arms outstretched awkward. Her lips were drawn back into a pained, winced sneer. The waves of pain radiating through her body were physically palpable. Placing her hand between her thighs, she gasped in sudden horror. Her trembling fingers were covered in blood.

  “My babies!”

  Desperate cries of anguish chilled him. Philip’s chest tightened. The sight of her crimson soaked fingers made his chest threaten to explode. In an instant, his plight with Dorien had become much worse. Would she lose their precious babes because of him? Philip tried to comfort her. But he waited for Hell to find him.

  Chapter Two

  Dorien froze the moment he stepped from the car. A feminine scream of terror rocked his soul. It was followed by sobs of misery. He heard her. The woman he loved. Over and over, she telepathically screamed his name. With his nose held high in the air, he inhaled a deep whiff. The metallic stench of blood permeated his senses. Clenching his fists was involuntary. The creeping rise of panic consumed him.

  He reached the front door in a flash. Trying the latch, it wouldn’t open. Dorien cursed his luck and remembered it was intentionally locked for Evangeline’s safety. The weight of his body pounded against the solid mahogany door. Wood groaned and splintered from the power of his charge. Colored shards of glass exploded from the pretty decorative stained glass window. Crisp, brittle crunches disintegrated into fine powder under the weight of his shoes. The scent of Evangeline’s fear swirled raw and thick. It was enough to decimate his sanity. Dorien recognized the unfamiliar trace.

  A man was in the house!

  “Come on Tommy! Evangeline is in trouble! Take care of Evan! The intruder is mine!”

  The door caved in and flew open, slamming against the wall behind it. Dorien stormed into the living room. Tommy ran in close behind him. A muscled, raven-haired stranger was kneeling on the floor beside Evangeline. The sight of her still, motionless body lying at the foot of the stairs slipped Dorien into a sudden realm of darkness.

  The stranger stared straight at him. But Dorien was far too frenzied to make out any features on the man’s blurred face. With a fierce growl Dorien charged and slammed his body into the intruder. The man hollered as he flashed across the living room like a laser beam of light. His body crashed through a solid wall of drywall, timber, and stone.

  Tommy attended Evangeline. Pulling out his cell phone, he called for an ambulance. Her head rolled back and forth. She was dazed and listless in her weakness. Ragged whispers escaped her lips. She gave the boy an account of what she had suffered.

  Dorien hung on her every word. Shaking in fury, he breached the throe of madness when the suggestion of rape drifted from her mouth. Never again would the woman he loved utter the word that made males and females shudder alike. Spartan temperament regressed in an instant. It faded into the black of Hellish abyss. He would kill the rogue who dared to take his woman!

  * * * *

  Philip laid face down in a crumbled pile of rubble. He groaned aloud and s
truggled to stand in the mess of drywall, stone, and wood. Surveying the damage, it was impossible to believe he survived crashing through the wall. Suddenly thankful for immortality, he would only suffer pain for a few moments. Habit forced him to pat and search his body for any trace of wounds. There wasn’t a scratch or mark on him.

  He wouldn’t fight the man he considered his brother. Philip would take his lumps and accept Dorien’s wrath, for he had earned it. If fate was on his side, his old friend would soon figure out who he was trying to kill. But peering into Dorien’s mind, it was going to take a while. The warrior’s thoughts bled nothing but seething rage and fury.

  Not a good sign!

  Philip winced. This was the first time he was on the wrong side of Spartan Justice. By the looks of it, Dorien wasn’t finished quite yet; he was only getting started. The angry thuds of footsteps stomped towards him. His body lifted off the ground like he was weightless. A solid right punch to his face hurled Philip across the expanse of living room.

  Waiting for the crash, it happened in a blur. Philip was propelled through another wall. Shards of staked slivers tried to pierce the armor of his impenetrable skin. He knew what his best friend was thinking. The Spartan was becoming more enraged his prey wouldn’t fight back! Leave it to Dorien to want a fair fight. The repeated arsenal of Dorien’s blows caused Philip pain. Old mortal instinct forced his hands to cover his face and shield himself from every immortal strike.

  Dorien growled. “Fight me, coward! Or perhaps it is only helpless women you like to attack!”

  “Nay! I will not fight you!”

  “Why aren’t you bleeding? And why in Hades are you still alive?" Dorien demanded.

  Philip laughed out loud at his friend’s remark. But he was sorry in an instant. Another deep punch in the gut sent him reeling back into another wall. Thanks to Demona’s cursed nectar, he wasn’t mortal. Otherwise Dorien would have already killed him!