Page 62 of Axios
“It is not often I am able to socialize with men my own age,” he said after taking a drink, gaining back his composure. “And even rarer for those men to share such likeminded philosophies. Your mind is an intriguing place, Axios, and I’ve enjoyed hearing you express your views.”
My cheeks heated at the compliment. Or perhaps it was caused by the wine. Whichever it might be, I felt my muscles relaxing even more, and I held onto the feeling.
“I must confess,” I said, shifting my weight to better face him. He angled his body toward mine as well, our legs so close they almost touched. “When you asked me to accompany you for a walk, I was uncertain as to why. Out of all the soldiers and all the young men training, you chosemeof all of them. You must see a thing within me that I do not.”
His interest in me made me feel wanted. Special.
“You are exceptional.” He softly smiled and looked down at his cup. “I can only hope you do not think me strange.”
“Why would I?” I asked before drinking more wine, taking gulps instead of sips, even though I’d warned myself against such a thing.
The numbness it created was all too appealing and provided the perfect escape from the ache in my heart.
“I have had both women and men in my bed,” he answered, staring at his hands. “And I have come to realize I prefer men and often act upon these desires. It is no secret that women no longer appeal to me—I wonder if they ever did or if it was just my warped sense of feeling like they should. But anyway, I know how the men speak about me when I am not in their presence.”
He pressed his lips together before sliding his bottom lip between his teeth and popping it from his mouth, leaving it wet. I was certain it tasted sweet from the wine.
Realizing I was staring at his mouth much longer than necessary, I lifted my gaze to his. “Some men speak of how grand their shits are as well, it does not mean there is anything of consequence,” I said, shocked at the vulgarity of my words.
The wine must have been affecting me greater than I’d thought, giving me a loose tongue.
He roared with delight, laughing so hard that his eyes watered. “How is it you make me forget the unkind words of others and take amusement in it?”
“Because words are only words,” I answered. “They have no power unless you allow them to. Finding pleasure in men is not a thing to be ashamed of. Anyone who thinks it wise to insult you should only be met with a sword to the gut.”
We shared a smile, and I felt a fluttering in my stomach.
I was attracted to him. How could I not be? He had such sincere brown eyes, handsome features, and could carry on interesting conversation with ease. My time spent with him had been a true joy, and I’d found a rare kinship with him.
But he’s not my Ery.
The king grabbed my goblet and placed it, along with his, on the wooden stand before us. I was confused by his actions, but did not question him. He moved closer to me, his leg resting against mine, and he angled his body to where his face was so close that I felt the feather light tickle of his breath on my lips.
It was then I knew his intentions.
My heart pounded heavily, beating so violently I feared it might burst from my chest. I could almost hear the rushing of my blood through my veins as my pulse spiked to new heights. I was uncertain of whether it quickened out of desire or nervousness.
Agesipolis gently cupped my cheek, his gaze flickering from my eyes to my mouth and back up to meet my stare.
His hands were rougher than I’d imagined, hardened and calloused from war and wielding shields made of bronze. But yet, they were soft—gentle—holding my face with such delicacy as if I were made of the most precious jewels.
And then he kissed me.
His lips tasted of how I’d wondered; sweet and mildly tart from the wine. His skin held its own earthy scent, one I would forever associate with him: the dew that covered the land on a spring morning, the scent of flowers in the midday sun. The pressure of his mouth on mine was light, as if he were waiting for my permission before deepening it.
I was unmoving against him, partly with shock and also with indecision.
He moved the hand that held my cheek and glided it to the back of my head, entwining his fingers in the strands of my hair. When he kissed me once more, and I had yet to yield, he pulled away just enough to look me in the eyes.
“Forgive me,” he whispered against my parted lips, still clutching my hair. “I believed you to favor men, and I apologize for placing you in this predicament.”
“You believed true,” I spoke, my voice sounding strange to my ears. Gruffer.
“Then, lay with me,” Agesipolis requested, displaying his satisfaction at my confession. “I long to have you writhing beneath me, to see your cheeks flushed with the pleasure I bring you.”
My thoughts reflected the imagery of his words. Of how we’d kiss and tear at the clothing separating us before falling into his bed. How we’d roll atop the plush bedding, becoming prisoners to the lust driving us both.
But then instead of the king, I saw Eryx.
