Captive of Desire

By Becky Lee Weyrich

In ancient Crete, one woman’s beauty and spirit will outmatch those who try to tame her in this thrilling historical romance from “a master storyteller” (Romantic Times).
 
When beautiful Zephromae watched her brother get taken away as a tribute slave, she knew she must rescue him. Her childhood sweetheart, the noble and courageous Alexander, followed to protect her. But he couldn’t save her from a ruthless king, the lust of a savage prince, or the fury of a spiteful queen who had power over them all.
 
But Zephromae possessed a secret strength that no one could have possibly imagined—and she would not hesitate to use it. Set in Crete in the heart of the Minoan culture, Captive of Desire sweeps the reader into an ancient world of adventure and romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jun 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781626813335

Book preview

Prologue

Athens, 1459 B.C.

Zephromae stirred but didn’t come fully awake when cool lips touched her cheek. She fought to hold onto sleep, knowing somewhere deep inside her that the reality of total consciousness would be too painful to accept.

Slowly her topaz eyes came open. She turned on her cot to stare out the window. Athens lay tomb-quiet in the blazing white heat of the summer sun. A pall of buff-colored dust muffled all sounds. Only an occasional anguished cry rose from the distant dock to break the heavy silence.

The cobwebs cleared suddenly from her brain. She remembered. This was the day the city had dreaded for nine years—the day King Minos of Crete would demand his tribute in human sacrifice.

Serpio! She glanced to the vacant cot in the far corner of the room. Her older brother was gone.

Zephromae didn’t take time to change her night-shift, but hurried out the door and looked anxiously down the road. Seeing him in the distance, she broke into a trot to catch up.

Serpio, she called, wait for me!

He turned and motioned her back to the house, but she kept running. When he saw he couldn’t discourage her, he stopped and waited for her.

The youths and virgins of Athens between the ages of twelve and nineteen had been ordered by decree to assemble before King Minos. Zephromae could see them milling about the dock with their weeping parents. Only fourteen would be taken away. But which fourteen?

She threw her arms around her brother and cried, Serpio, you promised I could go with you.

You’re too young, Zephromae. Go back to the house. I’ll be home soon.

A muffled No was all she could manage.

Serpio pulled her arms from around him and stooped to look into her face. You’re so beautiful, he said, more to himself than to her. Thank the gods you won’t be twelve for two more years.

Zephromae clung to Serpio’s hand, and her cat eyes defied him. "I will go with you! All the way to Crete if you’re chosen."

She stamped her tiny bare foot and squeezed his hand possessively. Her adoration of her brother showed in her face. He shrugged and took her with him to the dock. She was as always his loving shadow.

Brother and sister stopped in the shade of the looming ship to gaze up at its towering square sails of death-black. In contrast, the hull shone with bright reds, greens, and yellows. Garlands of lilies festooned the polished brass rails. At intervals, puffs of pink and blue perfumed smoke curled heavenward from the ship’s bow and stem. The scents of roses and almond blossoms hung in the air.

The ship’s festive look gave an even more sinister appearance to the carved black bull’s head which rode the prow. It stared out over the tributes with red eyes, nostrils flared in rage.

A muscled Cretan guard pushed Zephromae and Serpio to hurry them along. Zephromae tried not to look at the grotesque bull mask he wore, with its threatening visage and sharp-tipped, golden horns.

Chills of fear coursed through Zephromae’s body as the bull-man prodded Serpio with his double axe.

Move it along! the guard growled. The king’s ready to make his choices.

With Zephromae’s first glimpse of the dreaded King Minos, her fear turned to fascination. He sat on a golden throne adorned with lilies, poppies, and olive branches. The morning sun struck the heavy gold-link necklace covering his broad chest. He seemed to glow with an inner light. Thick dark curls hung to his shoulders and were crowned by more gold and three eyes of the peacock’s fan.

King Minos, though a strong and regal man, seemed to Zephromae to have a touch of sympathy in his face. Could it be sadness in his eyes that she glimpsed as he gazed out over the children before him?

Then she heard a familiar male voice above the hubbub of fear all about her.

Well, Serpio, do you think we’ll go to Crete together today? This will be our last chance. We’ll both be too old, nine years from now.

Zephromae watched Serpio force a smile to match the swaggering countenance of the tall, handsome Alexander. But in spite of his effort to appear casual, Serpio’s voice trembled slightly when he answered, The gods willing, neither of us will ever see the shores of that evil kingdom.

Alexander’s laugh sounded a bit false as he caught his friend’s apprehensive mood. I’ll leap their damned bulls and tell them all to go to hell!

Serpio glanced down, indicating Zephromae’s presence. Don’t brag so loudly, my friend. You’ll draw the king’s attention to us.

Alexander fastened his smoke-colored eyes on Zephromae for the first time. And what are you doing here, little mite? There’s not enough of you to make one good meal for a Cretan bull.

Though Zephromae usually basked in any attention from Alexander, today she resented his teasing banter.

Her tawny eyes flared, and she answered angrily, Don’t call me mite, you great lug! I could leap a bull as well as you. You know I took top honors in our athletic games at the end of school this year. And if Serpio’s chosen, I’m going to Crete with him!

Alexander reached down to tousle Zephromae’s bright hair, the color of sunlight on polished bronze. He tugged it gently.

There’s as much fire in your spirit as in those flaming locks of yours. Yes, I don’t doubt that you could tame a bull. You’d probably talk the poor beast into submission and then ride him around as if he were a pet ass, he teased.

Then silence fell over the youths and virgins. All breathing seemed suspended as King Minos descended from his throne and walked down the ramp to the quay. The group of possible tributes parted to make a path for him.

Alexander, losing some of his confidence now, began a steady stream of nervous chatter. You both know, of course, how all this started. A woman—they can’t be trusted—not one of them!

King Minos reached out with his gilded and jeweled scepter to touch a tall girl with hair as black as his own. She swayed slightly as if she might faint.

Zephromae pressed more closely to Serpio. The king moved toward them.

Lolat. Serpio sighed. Too bad. She was one of my favorites in school. I’ll miss her, won’t you, Zephromae?

His sister only nodded.

Alexander’s voice faltered, then he cleared his throat and went on. The story goes that Queen Paesphae, the wife of the first King Minos, took a fancy to a white bull that swam in from the sea one day. She allowed the beast to have its way with her and soon found out she’d become pregnant from this unorthodox relationship. King Minos was furious, but there was nothing he could do. You see, the bull turned out to be none other than the ever-promiscuous Zeus, disguised and in one of his frolicking moods. When the thing was born, it was a combination of man and beast, the horrible Minotaur. King Minos wanted to kill the monster but didn’t dare since it was the son of a god. So he commissioned Daedalus, the great architect, to build a labyrinth deep under the Palace of Knossos. He kept the creature locked away there.

Alexander paused and eyed the king’s progress.

Go on, Zephromae urged. I’m listening. Though she’d heard the fable of the Minotaur since her earliest childhood, the story never lost its gruesome fascination for her.

Yes. Where was I? Zeus was infuriated that a mere mortal was holding his son prisoner. So he demanded that King Minos offer the beast a tribute of seven youths and seven virgins every ninth year. Not wanting to sacrifice his own people, the king exacted the blood offering from the conquered city of Athens. For generations the Minotaur lived on the flesh and bones of our finest. It died at last, but the tribute lives on to remind us that we’re still subject to King Minos and the Cretan empire.

Alexander paused again and exchanged wary glances with Serpio as two more of their childhood friends felt the touch of the king’s scepter. He went on as if trying to reassure himself. But those days are gone now. The fate of the tributes is not nearly so horrible in this enlightened age. The bulls are only beasts, and bull-leaping, as I understand it, is a fascinating sport. There are three participants to each leap. A holder grasps the horns to stay the bull’s trampings while the leaper summersaults over its back into the waiting arms of the catcher, who stands at the animal’s hindquarters. Then, in a tone that belied the confidence of his words, he added, We three could do that easily enough, don’t you think, Serpio?

While Alexander continued his nervous monologue, King Minos moved ever closer. Six boys and seven girls had been chosen. Only one remained. Zephromae relaxed her grip on Serpio’s hand but hardly dared breathe as King Minos and his bull-masked guards came nearer. She noticed with mild satisfaction that Alexander ceased his endless chatter and took her other hand. His palm felt damp.

The tension which hung in the air like a tangible force caught Zephromae in its menacing grip. A shiver of fear ran through her body. Who would the final tribute be? The cries of grieving relatives all about intensified her anguish.

Then the resplendent King Minos stood directly before the three of them. His dark eyes traveled first over Serpio’s smooth tanned face and muscular body, then on to the taller,, leaner Alexander.

Zephromae could hear her heart thundering. In a moment he’ll pass, she thought. It will be over. He will not take my brother!

Her eyes widened. She watched the royal arm rise slowly. Then she realized the golden scepter was meant for Serpio. Zephromae split the moment’s silence with an enraged scream. She flew at King Minos like a she-cat defending her young—nails scratching, hair flying, teeth sinking deep into the flesh of his arm. The scepter slipped from his hand and clattered to the cobbled quay.

With a cry of surprised pain, King Minos tried to fend off his small attacker. But it took two guards to rescue their sovereign from Zephromae’s fury.

As they held her still-kicking form off the ground, Zephromae screamed, No! You can’t take my brother! I forbid it!

King Minos looked amused. He wrapped a silk scarf around his bleeding arm and spoke quietly to his undersized adversary. My dear child—or are you a small demon sent to torment me?—I take whomever I choose for tribute. And if this fine specimen of a lad is your brother, I intend to have him. I hope the spirit you’ve shown is a family trait. What a magnificent showing you would make in my bull ring!

Then I’ll go to Crete with him, Zephromae raged, still squirming against the guards’ restraining hold. I demand you take me too!

King Minos drew back in feigned horror. What? And have my life under constant threat from your violence for the duration of the voyage home? I think not. Besides, I have my quota of virgins for this trip.

He reached out to run his powerful hand over her soft cheeks, carefully avoiding her attempts to bite him again, then down her neck and on to test her budding breasts.

Too young, too tender yet. He sighed. But in another nine years I’ll come again and look for your hair of flame and your eyes that spit fire. What’s your name, child?

She stared defiantly at him and hissed, I am Zephromae!

Zephromae. He repeated her name in a husky whisper. I’ll remember you and see you again. Until then—

King Minos bowed and walked briskly back to board his ship.

Gently, with brotherly affection, Serpio took Zephromae out of the guards’ grasp and kissed her tear-stained cheeks.

Take care, little sister. His voice trembled. Look after our parents and don’t let them grieve for me.

Then he turned to the now-silent Alexander and said, You’ll have to watch over Zephromae for me, my friend. I’m counting on you to take my place.

Alexander, stoic and unbelieving, took the sobbing child into his arms. He could find no words of farewell for Serpio. Tears choked his throat and brimmed in his pale eyes. Other people left for Crete, never to be heard from again. But not his friends. Not Serpio, his best friend of all.

The Athenians on the quay stood motionless, watching the ship cast off, weeping for their fourteen lost children, sighing with relief that the horror wouldn’t come again for another nine years. Until then, they could tend their herds in peace, make their special wines, carve beads to count their worries … and try to forget what they couldn’t change.

Zephromae struggled out of Alexander’s arms and ran to the side of the dock for one final glimpse of her brother.

Her voice carried across the dividing waters to the disappearing figure at the rail. "I will come! I promise you Fll come for you on the very next ship, Serpio! I promise—" Her voice trailed off in choked sobs.

In a moment, she felt a strong, protective arm around her quaking shoulders. I’ll be at your side, Zephromae, from now on, Alexander said. We’ll both go to Crete nine years from today.

The two stood together on the dock until the purple horizon swallowed up the ship with the black sails.

Chapter 1

Athens, 1450 B.C.

The sun rose over the Acropolis, tinting the Temple of Athena Polias and the Erechtheum with soft hues of coral and gold. This was a day like any other—except for the bindings about Zephromae’s wrists and ankles—except for the black sail gliding ever closer to Athens with its evil golden eye glaring menacingly at the helpless city.

Perspiration ran down Zephromae’s brow to sting her topaz eyes. For hours she’d struggled in frustrated rage against the linen strips binding her. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. The small shed at the back of her house which held her prisoner sweltered with heat. Not a breath of air stirred. Only her youthful strength and nine long years of sorrow and determination gave her the power to keep up her struggle.

Her father had secured the bonds well, after forcing her from her bed in the middle of the night, with her own Alexander as his cunning coconspirator.

She could hear Alexander s voice through the wall now as he tried to reassure her parents. This plan will work. Would I sink to such depths of deception, tell Zephromae that Serpio was home, and then drag her out in the night to be bound and hidden, if I weren’t certain of my scheme’s success? I do love your daughter—more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But she still refuses me. And for what reason? She loves me; I know she does. Even if she hadn’t told me so in words, I’d know from the look in her eyes when we’re together. But still she won’t name a date for our marriage. I know the reason for her constant delays. Each year as the anniversary of Serpio’s departure for Crete approaches, she steels herself to her imagined fate. She still dreams of going to find him. But once the ship has come and gone without her, she’ll give up her mad scheme.

Mad scheme, he called it! Was it mad to want her brother back? Alexander had betrayed her. He had promised to go to Crete with her, to help her rescue Serpio. She tore more furiously at her bonds when she heard her father’s voice.

I know you mean well, but what if we’re found out by the Cretans?

We won’t be found out, Alexander responded confidently. Zephromae is safe. Plans are already underway for our wedding. I’m sure she’ll marry me once her chance to go to Crete is past.

Zephromae ceased her struggle for a moment and closed her eyes, imagining her wedding to Alexander. A hot tingling quivered up her legs and crept through her whole body. She thought of herself in Alexander’s arms, his firm strength pressing against her own pliant flesh in their urgent need for each other’s love. She’d longed to know that feeling.

Alexander’s voice snapped her back from the warm glow of her imaginings. His words struck her like a slap across the face.

Serpio is dead! There can’t be any doubt after all these years.

Renewing her assault on her bonds, Zephromae snarled through clenched teeth, "He is not dead! I’m coming, Serpio! I promised, and neither the trickery of our parents nor my love for Alexander will cancel that pledge. Let Alexander default on his promise, but I will not!"

With a final, wrenching effort she used her teeth to tear through the strips about her wrists. Quickly she unbound her ankles. Staring through a chink in the wall, she watched the black cloud with the dreaded golden symbol of Crete’s double axe grow ever larger as it skimmed over the calm turquoise of the Aegean. There was still time. King Minos’s great ship was just making port. Its colored clouds of perfume drifted over the city to her. The king had promised to remember her and take her on this voyage. She meant to hold him to his word.

Zephromae smoothed her waist-length hair, a richer, bolder bronze now than it had been in her younger years, and looked about. She quickly tore off the black matron’s shroud, a device of her mother’s in case her daughter were discovered by Minos’s men. They had been known to search for hidden virgins in the houses at the base of the Acropolis.

Zephromae stood naked in the center of the bare room. She cast about for something, anything of virginal white, to cover herself. Spying the guazelike netting stretched over a high window, she hurriedly ripped it down and wrapped her body in it. The filmy material covered, without concealing, her proud breasts, slim waist, and well-formed buttocks. The rest of her shapely form remained bare, but there was no help for it. The curtain couldn’t be stretched any farther.

A last, hasty glance through the crack in the wall told her she’d have to hurry. The choosing was already in progress. She heard screams from the throng as each virgin or youth felt the touch of the dreaded scepter. She tried not to think of her own mother’s anguished cries to come when she saw that her daughter had escaped to present herself to the foreign king.

She would have to put wings to her feet to reach the dock in time. Smashing through the old dry wood of the shed door, Zephromae hurried unnoticed through the deserted streets to the dock where all the citizens of Athens, old and young, stood gathered.

The crash of splintering wood brought Alexander and Zephromae’s parents instantly out of the house. Spying her near-naked daughter running toward the quay, Zephromae’s mother gave a horrified cry and crumpled to the ground.

Alexander immediately gave chase, his heart pounding in his ears at the thought of what might happen if he didn’t catch up with her in time.

Not until she heard Alexander’s hoarse cry, Zephromae! Zephromae, stop! This is madness! did she realize how close she was to capture.

She forced herself to more speed and called back without turning, I’m going, Alexander! I have to!

Still running, but not gaining much on her, Alexander shouted into the wind, Then you don’t love me? You’ll never be my wife?

Zephromae brushed aside the tangle of hair from her face and the tears from her eyes to call back, I do love you, but I’m going to Crete. Come with me, Alexander, and marry me there—or wait for me here. I’ll return with my brother safely beside me.

Many eyes stared at the scantily clad Zephromae, and among them, those of Prince Lepdus, Minos’s son. Having come of age, his first royal duty was to conduct the tribute ship to Athens and choose the sacrifices for the bull ring.

Seeing the flaming hair of this exotic beauty as she was chased through the streets, Lepdus recalled his father’s parting words to him: "There is one to look for, Lepdus. You see this scar on my arm? At a tender age she inflicted this wound which I now display like a trophy from battle. You’ll know her on sight. Her hair isn’t dark like most of the Greeks’. It glows like the fire of Vulcan’s forge. Take care with her. She has a temper! But I want that one—above all others—and not for the bull ring. Rank has its privileges, and I plan to exercise mine as king by taking this girl. What a prize! Don’t return without her, or you will have failed in your first duty to me."

Lepdus’s black eyes sparkled with lust as he stared at this most beautiful and sensuous of all the virgins he’d seen. Yes, he would choose her as part of the tribute. But, as his father had said, she would never see the inside of the bull ring—or his father’s bed, if he had his way. Possession and his own rank counted too. His Chamber of Lilies would be her prison and his delight. If he must marry his sister Metra, as tradition dictated for the future ruler of Crete, he would choose this one as a pleasure mate. Yes, he’d make this shining virgin his.

Zephromae stopped abruptly in front of Prince Lepdus and stared with confusion and defiance into his unfamiliar face. She recognized the resemblance—the high cheekbones and finely flared nostrils—but his smooth bronzed features showed none of the wise lines etched by age which King Minos wore so well. And the eyes. These eyes shone like cold, polished lava stones rather than the warm darkness she remembered in the king’s.

Disappointed fury moved her to demand, Where is King Minos? He promised to take me to Crete on this ship. Am I to be denied my wish and my fate after waiting so long?

It both amused and pleased Lepdus that she continued to stare directly into his eyes, unlike the other meek and weeping virgins he’d chosen. This one would be a charming challenge.

He bowed slightly and let his gaze travel over her swelling breasts, heaving now with the exertion of her run, the soft glow of her sweat-dampened limbs, and the passionate blaze in her eyes.

Allow me to introduce myself, he said. I am Prince Lepdus, of Crete, son of Minos, sent on the king’s mission of tribute by royal command. And you are?

Relief flooding through her, she answered, My name is Zephromae. Your father took my brother, Serpio, away from Athens nine years ago. What news do you bring of him? Is he alive and well?

The smile uncurled from his lips, and Lepdus raised a jeweled hand for her silence. It was forbidden in Crete to speak openly of past bull-leapers. Zephromae’s words would bring ill fortune.

I don’t know anything about your brother. But my father has told me about you. He ordered me to bring you to him. Lepdus reached out to caress her soft shoulder, then whispered, And now I see why. Zephromae. A name as enchanting as its owner.

Zephromae closed her eyes and inclined her head slightly toward the prince to receive the touch of his official acceptance.

He laughed softly at her willingness. Then the perverse side of his nature formed a scheme in his mind. Raising her head with one finger, he sighed. What a shame! Especially when the king wanted you so. But I already have my quota of virgins.

Zephromae opened her mouth to protest, only to have it covered immediately by the prince’s lips. He held her fast and kissed her deeply. She felt her body shaking.

He released her abruptly and smiled. Yes, you’ll do nicely. Perhaps we can work out a bargain to exchange you for one of the other virgins. He turned to the crowd and called out, Who’ll pay me in gold to ransom his daughter?

Alexander, almost close enough to touch Zephromae, found himself mobbed and shoved back away as the tribute virgins’ fathers pressed in offering all they owned in the world to buy back their daughters.

Zephromae! he screamed to her. But his cry was lost in the mad scene surrounding her and the prince.

When the highest bid had been determined and counted out, Zephromae watched the joyful reunion between a delicate girl of twelve and her happy but now impoverished family.

Prince Lepdus smiled into Zephromae’s eyes and raised his scepter to make his choice of her official. But before he could touch her, a scream of rage filled the air. Zephromae felt herself whirled away from the prince, the gauze tom from her body.

Alexander caught her up in his powerful arms and forced his way through the crowd. For an instant, she glimpsed the shock of disbelief on Prince Lepdus’s face, then a blur of color and sound swirled around her. Zephromae’s only impression now came from the impassioned blaze of Alexander’s gray eyes.

His voice rasped as he flung himself away from the dock, pushing people out of his way, I can’t let you go! We’ll hide in the mountains until it’s safe. You’re too precious to me, Zephromae. You have to forget all about Serpio. No one survives the bull ring.

Zephromae tried desperately to struggle out of his arms. No, Alexander! she persisted. We have to believe that Serpio’s still alive—that we can save him. You have no right to take me away like this.

I have every right! I love you, Zephromae. If it weren’t for your good name, I’d take you here and now, in front of the whole city. King Minos would never accept an impure tribute. But I can’t do that to you—not even to save you. Escape is the only answer, and then marriage. I’ve waited so long to make you mine.

She thrashed about, still trying to free herself from her lover’s hold. People in the crowd cried curses on the gods that such a disgraceful scene should add horror to this already most horrible of days.

Zephromae’s emotions began to do battle within her. She ceased her fighting and leaned her head against Alexander’s shoulder, breathing in the male musk of his heated body. She half hoped he would make the escape good. She did love him—she’d always loved him—even when he’d treated her like a child, a pest to be teased and taunted as no more than his best friend’s little sister. But since the loss of Serpio, Alexander had become much more to her than a childhood adversary and substitute brother. Their love had blossomed into a mature, lasting relationship. Only her own stubbornness had kept them apart.

Perhaps Alexander’s thinking was clearer than hers. Serpio would want them to be together. He had loved them both.

She relaxed in his arms and nestled her lips against his neck. He knew best. She should have realized her folly sooner.

Yes, darling, she whispered. Take me far away. I want to be your wife. More than anything I want you to love me.

Her words of encouragement sped Alexander’s flight until suddenly, out of nowhere, Prince Lepdus appeared before them. With a silent motion of his braceleted arm, he ordered one of his bull-guards to stop the fleeing couple.

One swift, sharp blow from the staff of the guard’s double axe ended Alexander’s escape, rendering him senseless. Zephromae tumbled from her lover’s arms to lie stunned and bruised in the dust of the road.

When her vision cleared, Alexander was gone. Only his blood on her naked breasts remained to suggest what had happened.

She hadn’t heard Prince Lepdus growl to the guard, motioning toward the unconscious Alexander, Take care of this one!

Prince Lepdus removed his flowing robe of peacock feathers stitched with pearls and placed it around Zephromae’s shoulders. He helped her up and whispered, I want to hide your beauty for myself alone. He adjusted the cloak, letting his fingers play over her breasts for a moment before he turned to another guard and ordered, "Take this virgin to my private quarters. I’ll see to her well-being personally."

Even in her dazed state, Zephromae noticed the prince’s emphasis on her innocent state. What had she let herself in for?

The rough-handed guard seized her arms, and again she heard the prince’s gruff orders. Gently with that one! I don’t want her damaged further.

A wave of dizziness swept over Zephromae. She looked down at Alexander’s drying blood. Where was he? Had he fled to escape the guards? More likely he was hiding somewhere—waiting his chance to board the ship and rescue her. The thought offered her some measure of comfort.

She heard her mother cry out from somewhere among the sea of faces watching the parade of virgins board the ill-fated ship. All about her Zephromae heard the pitiful sobs of her six sisters of destiny. But she had no tears. This was the ship she had longed to board—her dream of so many years. But still she remembered Alexander’s touch and heard his loving words ringing in her ears.

Suddenly an ominous thought crowded out all others. Could Alexander be dead? She remembered the guard, but after that she’d fallen. If the blow had been fatal, Alexander might be providing food for the squids and fishes in the bay at this very moment. She closed her eyes tightly to force out the terrible vision.

How could she, even at her most impetuous, have done this to the man she loved? She entered Prince Lepdus’s opulent quarters in a dark, angry mood.

When Zephromae heard the door closed and bolted behind her, she felt another door lock in her brain—the entrance back to her old life and everyone she had ever known or loved. All hope of ever seeing