Ilithyia examined the barbarian who had so humiliated her husband. Her nostrils flared at the strong smell of sweat. She stepped behind him and trailed her fingers from the back of his neck down his shoulder, watching the muscles bunch in reaction to her touch.
“I have a wife,” Spartacus grated out.
“That’s right,” Ilithyia agreed. “If you want to find her, you’ll need a more powerful ally than that lanista of yours. I’m very generous with … cooperative slaves. Are you cooperative, Spartacus?”
Jaw clenched, he nodded his head.
A dangerous treat, to be certain. That was her favorite kind.