The Argive Ch. 001-005

Theron didn't respond to that immediately, which was telling in its own way. Seeing as his friend wasn't about to make light of the situation or come up with some joke about the Spartans' fighting ability was enough to show that he was frightened at the implication.

Anyone with half a brain would be frightened to face the Spartans alone.

"Well then, we'll have to hope that our luck continues to hold," said Theron finally. "Horn of Hades, all this talk of war is making me thirsty."

Praxis cracked a smile. "I know that look in your eye. You're trying to get drunk tonight, aren't you?"

"Tonight is an excellent night to get drunk, is it not?"

"Your words would have more weight if I didn't hear you say that yesterday and the day before that and the day before that," said Praxis while laughing.

"Sometimes, you just need a little bit of wine to make your problems go away," joked Theron. "At least until the next day!"

"Well, I'll be joining you for a drink," said Praxis, putting his sword away. "The encounter with my stepfather this afternoon has put me in a foul mood. I wouldn't mind drinking away my sorrows."

"Now that is something you'll have to give me more details about. I always enjoy listening to the rebukes of stern King Damian!"

And so it was that the two men found themselves walking to the local watering hole near the base of the Aspida hill. The hill was the definable center of the city. It was where the local market was, with a variety of shops and stalls. The theater was not far away as was the ancient temple of Hera that was grand and intimidating in size.

Being near the center of the city, it was also the most crowded. Many of the Argives out this evening were still in the midst of business, while some were already in the pursuit of pleasure.

Yet it was once such Argive woman that caused both Theron and Praxis to stop dead in their tracks.

"Blessed Demeter," whispered Theron, letting out a low whistle in the process. "Would you look at that? I didn't expect to run into Astara tonight!"

Praxis craned his head to look at the beautiful Astara--the youngest daughter of one of the wealthiest merchants in the city. Astara had a reputation nearly as large as Praxis'. Her beauty was renowned throughout the city as was the fact that she was currently unattached.

Praxis didn't see how that was even possible. She had long, straight black hair that seemed to shimmer whenever the light caught it. Astara also had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, the kind that seemed to penetrate his body every time they were cast in his direction. And even those features were nothing compared to the rest of her body--a body that any woman would sacrifice to have.

"By the gods have they ever made a woman more perfect?" asked Theron as he watched Astara move through the city.

"No, they have not," agreed Praxis, watching her as well. At one point, Astara turned her head to make eye contact with him. She didn't smile or give any acknowledgment to him, but it was that stare alone that caused him to utter his next statement.

"I'm going to marry that woman one day," vowed Praxis. "I swear it now to all the gods in the skies and the seas, I'm going to make that woman my wife."

To his surprise, Theron started to crack up with laughter. "And learn to fly in the process? I love you like a brother, my friend, but we both know that a woman like Astara is going to end up with some rich man or a king. Or even the son of a king from what I hear."

Praxis had heard that rumor as well. It was an open secret that Xanthos had his eyes set on Astara, wanting her to be his second wife. His first wife, Melitta, was just a year younger than Praxis and very homely. Their marriage was the result of a political alliance that was sealed by their nuptials.

No, Xanthos wanted Astara to be the trophy in his collection, and rumor had it that she wanted no part in that affair.

"Xanthos has a wife already," said Praxis as Astara disappeared from sight and the two men continued to walk. "Why should he have another when I have none?"

"You'll need to take that up with him," said Theron, chuckling. "Although, I don't recommend offering to fight him for her hand. Something tells me he wouldn't take that bet!"

The two men made their way to the front door of the local watering hole, an establishment that was owned by a trader named Creon. It was the place to be that evening judging by the clientele--many of whom were warriors that were already drunk after securing their victory that afternoon.

"There he is!" roared one of the drunks. "It's the foreigner! Three cheers for the foreigner and his role in crushing the Cynurians today!"

Many of the patrons cheered at seeing Praxis and Theron enter, and they were immediately served cups of wine that were already paid for.

"I rather enjoy going out with you," said Theron as he raised his cup. "A man could get used to getting free drinks."

"So could a woman," said a familiar voice from just behind Praxis. By the time he turned around, he found himself staring into a beautiful face.

"Hello foreigner, remember me?"

Chapter 5: Seduction of the Redhead

As it turned out, Praxis did remember her.

It was hard to forget that flaming red hair and the look of mischief on her face.

"I do remember you," he said, turning his body to face her. "You're the woman from earlier. The one pulling the pottery cart?"

She gave him another toothless smile. "It seems that you have a good memory to add onto your other attributes."

"You might want to be careful with throwing around compliments like that," warned Theron. "They tend to go directly to my friend's head."

"Is that right?" she asked. "Should I start telling him things that he could use a little more work on?"

"More work on?" asked Praxis as his brow tightened. "Like what?"

"Well for one, I'm sitting right next to you andI was the one that had to start talking toyou. A girl might get a few ideas that she's not attractive enough to earn your attention."

Praxis licked his lips and hazarded a gaze at the woman's body. Not being attractive enough was something she most definitely didn't have to worry about. She seemed to combine two features that he loved most about the opposite sex--a lean and womanly body combined with a nearly flawless face.

"Trust me, you have nothing to worry about in that area," replied Praxis, holding his gaze with the woman.

"Ah, so he does know how to flirt," she replied, scooting closer to him. "I was beginning to wonder if I was the first woman to ever take a liking to him. I sure hoped not. Virgins tend to be very dull partners, and I don't relish the idea of breaking in a new one."

"Looks like you're out on this one then," joked Theron, elbowing Praxis in the side and making the woman laugh. Praxis shoved his friend away playfully and returned his attention to the woman.

"I can assure you that I've had my fair share of experience when it comes to interacting with women of your beauty."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Of my beauty? There you go charming me again. You can consider me interested but I don't want you to think that your work is done right now."

Praxis gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

She sidled closer to him, resting her hand against his exposed thigh. The touch was a wonderful feeling but it was no less wonderful when she brought her mouth closer to his ear and whispered to him.

"I mean that you still have to put in the work if you want me in your bed tonight," she whispered, sending a shiver down his spine. At one point, her lips made contact with his ear, an entirely pleasant feeling that made his blood boil.

When she pulled away, the woman pursed her lips together, giving him a suggestive look that caused his body to start responding to her.

The chase was on.

"I get the feeling that you want to be conquered, don't you?" he asked, lowering his voice so that only she could hear.

Her eyes rolled upward in thought before her head nodded a moment later. One of her fingers captured a red lock and swirled it around the digit. "Perhaps. Most men don't value what comes too easily. And I've always enjoyed the thrill of the chase."

As she ended the statement, she leaned closer still, causing her breasts to poke against his chest. While she didn't have large ones, they still felt supple and firm against him, and he was aching to rip the dress from her body.

"You've told me exactly what you want but you haven't yet told me your name," said Praxis, looking deep into her eyes. "What do people call you?"

She smiled and shook her head. "You haven't asked me for my name yet. Why should I tell you now?"

"Well, I would think a woman of your beauty doesn't just sleep with any man that doesn't know her name. Or am I wrong about that?"

"Perhaps," she replied, teasing him further. "Or maybe I should make you work for that too?"

Praxis sat back in chair, regarding the woman for several moments before he thought about a reply to that. He wasn't used to someone like her--someone who was forward on one hand but reserved on the other. She wanted to be chased and fucked like Aphrodite with her ass on fire and yet she still wanted him to earn it.

To conquer her.

"You're intrigued by me, aren't you?" she asked a moment later.

"You can definitely say that," he replied. "You seem to be unlike other women that I've ever met."

"I would think that a man like you would have women throwing themselves at you daily and nightly."

There was some truth to that. With the kind of fame that Praxis had, he didn't have much difficulty finding a partner for the night. Lately though, there had been something of a dry spell. One girl he'd been seeing and sleeping with regularly recently moved with her family to Athens, on the other side of the gulf. Since it was unlikely that they would come back any time soon, it meant an end to their relationship for the time being.

"I've done all right for myself," said Praxis, injecting some modesty into the statement.

The woman threw back her head and laughed. "He's humble too. What a blessing! He's blessed by Ares and Zeus himself but he's still modest enough to not be boastful. I'm beginning to think it's my lucky night."

"I don't know about that blessed part," said Praxis. "And my family god is Apollo so you can imagine my luck when it comes to relationships."

She patted his shoulder. "Unlucky in love?"

"You can say that. Although I'm still young enough that this could change."

Her eyes took a moment to roam over his body. "I'd say we could make a lot of progress on that particular area tonight."

Praxis grinned at her and stroked her thigh, causing her to lean closer to him. Her face was simply lovely, not a blemish on her milky white skin. She had deep, green eyes that seemed more alive than most and lips that begged to be kissed.

And that was exactly what he tried to do when he pressed his face closer. Their lips touched for the briefest of moments, just enough to make the connection before she pulled away slightly, opening her eyes once more.

"You're a very handsome man," she whispered to him. "A rugged and attractive face, the kind that any woman would adore."

She brought her hand to his cheek and softly caressed him. "And yet, I get the impression that there's a deep-seated pain inside. The kind of pain that tortures the mind while sparing the body. Your body might as well be chiseled from the gods themselves but it's your mind where the pain comes from. What are you holding deep inside you?"

Praxis found himself swallowing hard at the question. Despite just meeting this woman, she was remarkably adept at reading him and seeing the pain that lingered just below the surface.

"It's complicated," he replied finally. "I'm not sure you'd understand."

"There's a lot of things I could understand, foreigner. Especially if you just explained them to me."

Praxis stiffened at the name and he pulled away from her slightly, something that she noticed instantly.

"What did I say?" she asked, looking at him warily. "What caused you to pull away?"

"The name that you called me," he answered. "Foreigner."

"Is that not what everyone calls you? The entire city?"

"And that's part of the problem. The whole city calls me that, like you said. A reminder that I'm not from here, even though my mother was raised in Argos."

"No, but you take after your father, don't you?" she asked. "Especially with your accent. It's not from around here. It's not easy to tell when you speak but it's obvious when you're paying attention. That's not even mentioning your looks."

"What about my looks?" he asked.

She smiled and caressed his thigh once more. "Nothing that I have a problem with. Like I said before, you're a very handsome man. But I can tell just by looking at you that your blood is foreign. You're so much taller than everyone else. Your features are lighter. You stick out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the men of the city."

Praxis grunted. "A fact that others are quick to remind me about. I've lived here for my entire life and yet no one in this city accepts me as an Argive except for my mother."

To his surprise, she started to laugh at his statement. When he raised an eyebrow, she gently squeezed his arm.

"It's just amusing to me. You see, I don't think you understand how valued you are here, especially with the people," she said. "Calling you a foreigner may be an insult to your ears but it's a term of endearment for the rest of the people. All of them are grateful that you fight on their side and not for our enemies."

"If they were really grateful, they would learn to call me by my name," grumbled Praxis.

"Yes, it can be grating when someone who should know your name, doesn't," she teased, poking him in the stomach. "Especially when that someone tries to kiss you."

Recognizing that she was teasing him, Praxis turned his attention back to her. His eyes flickered to her very kissable lips.

"Perhaps then we can start on the same page?" he asked. "By calling each other by our given names?"

Her tongue darted out and tasted her bottom lip before slipping back into her body. Her eyes were alive with fire. "I'd like that very much."

"Very well. I'm called Praxis then. I'm named after one of my ancestors."

"Praxis," she repeated, saying the name several times. "It's very regal. Just like the man that bears it."

"And what shall I call you? Have I earned the right to know your name?"

"I suppose so," she teased before bringing her lips close to his ear again. "I'm called Lysandra," she whispered.

"Lysandra is a fitting name for a woman so beautiful," replied Praxis.

She purred at the compliment. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine then, Praxis."

At that moment, Lysandra leaned in closer, brushing her red hair from her face. Praxis locked eyes with her for the briefest of seconds before he once more looked at her soft, pink lips. The only difference now was that she was looking at his, and it was a subtle nod of the head that allowed him permission to continue.

Their lips collided together in the next moment with a remarkable degree of passion. Lysandra seemed to melt against him, softening her body into his embrace while their lips moved together.

Her kiss was simply unforgettable. She seemed to know the right balance between the timing of her movements and the motion of her tongue. When their lips finally broke, her cheeks were flush enough to match her hair.

"That was the kind of kiss that held much promise for tonight," she whispered for him.

"And to think, we're just getting started," he replied.

Praxis would have been content to take her home right at that moment but it never got off the ground.

He'd been vaguely aware that the noise in the establishment seemed to have come down in volume but he'd been too busy staring back at Lysandra to notice until now.

It was as he turned around that he saw Xanthos standing before him, all attention on him as he stared daggers back at Praxis. His stepbrother was flanked by several nasty-looking men.

Praxis had never seen Xanthos look so angry. What was even more telling was the fact that his sword was already in his hand.

"We're going to settle this once and for all," growled Xanthos as he raised his sword and lunged at Praxis.