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ᴇɪɢʜтᴇᴇɴ

So wow, over 9K reads, I am so grateful. My story is coming to an ending (I'm writing either to final chapter or the second final chapter) so I hope you all enjoy this. Also a lot of you have mentioned my habit of cliff hangers, I don't even mean to do it! This chapter does have a cliff hanger again and I am so sorry. But it seems to me this is just how I write, but when I go back to edit this story (when I can be bothered) I'll change that.

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Amazon | Eighteen

Rhea hurried to excuse herself, Bastien stared at his father, and he couldn't look away. Maximos was a commanding presence, he took control and demanded it, and he had been a great army general in his day. Now all Bastian could do was worry for Rhea, the poor woman would be likely be hating herself over the fact that she kissed Bastian.

Bastian rubbed the back of his neck, it was the best kiss he had ever had, and he wondered why he had not done it sooner. But he supposed he had not kissed her sooner due to the threat of her wanting to kill him if he even thought about touching her. Bastian looked up at his father, he felt a little wary now, unsure of how to approach the subject with the man, even if he had witnessed their embrace.

"Father," Bastian cleared his throat and Maximos stared down at his son.

"She is the not the woman I would have hoped for you," Maximos grimaced, "But you are thirty, she is still young, she can easily be manipulated."

"Father," Bastian sighed, "I will not do what Deacon did to Anthea, and I will not be that man."

"What sort of man Bastian?" Maximos narrowed his eyes in question.

"The man who marries a woman much too young for him," Bastian gulped, "Marries her and gets her with child, only to have many other women and men who warm his bed." Bastian grimaced, "We both know Deacon would love to have all his sex partners to live with him if it would not bring shame onto this name and mother would allow it."

"Bastian," Maximos pressed his fingers together, "It is our ways, do not judge your brother. Would you rather live as a slave to that woman?"

"I do not know what I wish for father," Bastian coughed, covering his mouth. "Does your mistress live with us?" Bastian asked suspiciously.

"It does not matter to you," Maximos narrowed his eyes on his son, "Do not worry yourself with such nonsense."

"Of course father," Bastian excused himself hurriedly and left the room; he took a deep breath and leaned his head on the cool stone outside his room. Ever since he was young he had been encouraged to be like Deacon, Deacon had been a protégé. When they were boys they would become sexual objects of men a little older than them, Deacon had enjoyed it.

Then when they were men they would do the same to boys younger than them, Deacon had enjoyed that too. Bastian had refused, he had only paid a young boy to pretend, and he did not want to be shamed. Now he was nearing thirty, it was likely that his mother or father would get out the young women, young girls only fourteen or fifteen, perhaps younger.

They would want him to marry one of those girls; he could not see himself marrying one of them. Anthea was only eighteen now, Deacon thirty four, she had been fourteen when they had married. Bastian grimaced and entered his room, he had wanted to save Anthea, send her to the Spartans. Yet he would have been beaten, he would bring shame to his name.

Rhea covered her face with her hands; she breathed heavily and tried to think. How could she lose herself like that? She felt sick to her stomach, but her lips tingled and her heart fluttered in relief. It was as if she was waiting for that exact moment in her life – she felt wonderful. But should she feel wonderful? It was not right to feel such things for a man.