Page 63 of The Rose (The Godwicks 2)

“Try harder,” Patroclus said. “I’m tired of old men thinking you’re my son.”

“Brother.” Both men looked at Lia. “You look like his older brother. His wiser, kinder, older brother.”

“See?” Achilles said. “I told you she likes you better. But no matter. We share a heart and a soul between us. Might as well share a prize.”

“She is your prize,” Patroclus said. “Not mine. She was given to you.”

“And as she is mine, she is mine to share. So now I—” Achilles pointed at his chest “—share her with you. Come, little queen. There is war enough for all by day. Let us make peace by night.”

Achilles waved at her, beckoning her to rise. She stood slowly, and as she did Achilles pulled his cloak off her body, revealing her to Patroclus.

How is this happening?she thought as Patroclus raised his hand to her face and stroked it.

“You’ve scared her now, boy,” he said.

“It’ll pass,” Achilles assured. “Help him with his armor, little queen. Earn your keep.”

Achilles had propped himself up on his elbows, crossed his long and muscled legs at the ankle. He seemed quite happy to be watching the entertainment unfold before him. She knew little of men’s armor, so Patroclus had to whisper instructions to her.

“There’s a tie behind the shoulders,” he said very softly as she stepped in front of him. He looked past her as she raised her hands to unknot the leather straps of his breastplate. She heard him breathe in sharply as she lifted her arms to the shoulder strap.

When her head was next to his, he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Forgive me.” He raised his hands to her back and stroked her there. “I should not take you, but he wants this... I spoil him like a firstborn son.”

“Do you want this?” she whispered back.

“Can you doubt it?” he asked.

She didn’t doubt it. Patroclus desired her. She’d known that from the moment he’d touched her foot when he’d removed the rope that bound her.

But how had August known?

Lia hadn’t told him this was part of her fantasy about Achilles. She’d told him about her desire to be a concubine to Achilles, but not the other half of the fantasy—where Achilles shared her with Patroclus, his soul mate and shield-bearer. And if she hadn’t told August that...how did he know to make it happen?

“Go on, my lady,” Achilles said. “You wanted him. Now you have him.”

Lia ignored the taunting and concentrated on her task. At last she succeeded in unknotting the straps of the breastplate. She removed it and set it next to Achilles’s armor, propped against the hut wall.

Patroclus pulled off his tunic and stood bare chested before her. Broad, dark patch of hair in the center—some brown, some gray—and muscle to spare. Hard flat broad stomach.

“Touch him, little queen,” Achilles ordered.

She raised her hands and pressed her palms lightly to the hard flat plane of his stomach. Patroclus looked down at her small hands on his body and took a labored breath. She wondered how long it had been since he’d felt a woman’s hand. A pity as he was a pleasure to touch. She stroked his sides, feeling the hard rib cage underneath his skin. She touched his chest, the bones of his throat and collar...and then the shoulders that had carried her weight so easily through the camp.

Patroclus lowered his head and kissed her mouth. He ran his hands down her back to grip her by the hips and pull her to him. She sensed he was on the verge of losing control of his desire. It seemed Achilles sensed it, too.

“Briseis.” Achilles gestured to his hip, wagging his finger there as if trying to tell her something. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What, sir?” she asked.

Achilles sighed dramatically.

“He’s trying to tell you to do this.” Patroclus stepped back to untie the leather thongs on the pteruges. She moved to obey, but Patroclus finished before she could help. His clothes landed on the floor and he kicked them away.

She gazed at his entire body. Achilles was the greater warrior, it was said. He was lithe and quick as a striking cobra, but Patroclus was the larger of the two men, the heavier. He had massive thighs, a huge chest, broad back and powerful hips. But it was his arousal she could not look away from, the red, thick, straining organ.

“To serve him is to serve me,” Achilles said.

“How would you have me serve?” Lia asked, though she already knew the answer. She knew because she’d been here before, in her mind. She knew what Achilles would say...

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