"My people stood for strength," he hissed. "For discipline. For honour. We stood for each other. You'll never understand that, Arcadian. Have you ever stood in a phalanx, your shield protecting not yourself, but the man to your left, who you loved more than any mortal brother?"
There was true rage in his eyes now. "It was Sparta who kept Greece safe - not your beloved Arcadian poets. Would you have had us be philosophers and singers, like the Athenians? Greece would have crumbled without us, and you know it. Your goatherds and singers lived their soft and sweet lives because there were men like me willing to suffer and die for their country. Men with strength."
He yanked Samandriel's head back further. "You owe me everything, Samandriel."
With the speed of a striking snake, Carrick's fangs tore into the soft flesh of the slave's throat, biting punishingly deep and leaving ragged wounds in the pale skin. At the same time his hand tightened around Samandriel's sex, squeezing it painfully hard.