Agron's feelings had been dead since the loss of his brother to the perfidious Roman fuckers.
His heart was still and silent. No one could penetrate the icy winter that had descended upon his spirit. His entire core.
His emotions lay dead. In a wasteland of revenge and hatred of the Roman scum that had caused his unbearable loss.
Duro, his younger brother, had been his world.
Even now, when he was no longer a contender in the fucking Roman arena. No longer enslaved as a gladiator. Now a rebel, indeed a general in Spartacus's army. Commander of freed slaves and runaways.
Still his heart beat cold and silent.
Until his eyes met those of the tiny Eastern slave.
A jolt ripped through him as though he'd been hit by a thunderbolt thrown by a god of the ancients. Agron had forgotten he was capable of such intensity of feeling. If indeed he'd ever experienced this strength of emotion before..
He could not tear his eyes from the exquisite boy.His heart pounded hot and wild.
But the expression on the young slave's face was unreadable.
Agron wanted to read every inch of his gorgeous body.