Seduced by the Gladiator (19 page)

I could not have stopped the floodgates if I had been offered never-ending life, not when I had been so thoroughly possessed by Christus. I screamed, the sound reverberating off the dingy walls of the tiny room.

I cared not who heard.

Christus muttered words softly against my neck as every muscle in my body spasmed against him, around him. I heard the pace of his breath quicken, felt the rock-solid muscles of his thighs beneath my bottom tense and quiver.

“Come with me.” I squeezed the muscle inside of me and he shouted. Thrusting fully into me, both cock and fingers, he cried out yet again as shudders of delight wracked his own body.

The heavy weight of his testicles bumped against my screaming clit as he thrust and thrust again, emptying himself inside of me. The light pressure on flesh that had been teased without mercy set me off again, a smaller but no less intense jolt of pleasure.

I moaned through it, succumbing to the sensation, the complete feeling of possession.

We stayed as we were for what felt like hours, though was in actuality probably only minutes. Our breath mingled in the air, rasping hard and heavy.

Slowly, Christus put his hands on my hips and pulled, sliding me back down until I could place my own feet on the floor. Planting a kiss in the dip between my shoulder blades, he brought the fingers that had fucked my cunt up to trace over my cheek. I turned my head, watching as he ran his tongue over the tips and tasted the essence that was me.

Tangling his fingers in my hair, he tugged, pulling my head back until I had no choice but to look at him. His cock was still inside of me, my muscles had turned to jelly, but what I saw in his eyes sent me flying.

“You, Lilia.” He tugged at my hair again, and I purred, low in my throat. I knew now that I loved this man, and while that feeling would cause me great pain in the days to come, right then I reveled in the feeling and in the moment.

I could not kill this man, not even if we were the final two in the Battle of Gaius. I would rather kill myself.

“You are mine.”

M
y happiness was fleeting, as I knew that it would be.

The next morning, before the sun had even begun to warm the air with a wash of pale gold, the screech of the gates to the ludus opening rent the silence in two.

In our room, Christus and I looked at each other with somber expressions.

This was it.

Threading our fingers together, we walked out of the room as one. Instead of the panic that I had expected, I found that I was strangely calm.

There was no way to get through this, except to get through it. I knew that if I were to let my thoughts linger on the potential outcome, I might lose my tenuous grip on sanity.

The
carpentum
—one far more ornate than any I had ever seen—had been pulled right into the training area. It was accompanied by a half-dozen Roman soldiers, clad in armor, wicked-looking blades sheathed at their hips.

“Get in.”

Gaius was nowhere to be found, and it was a smart move on his part. Soldiers or not, had the man entered the bowels of a ludus full of trained gladiators this morning, given the mood of the men in the past week, he likely would not have left alive.

“We are coming!” I spoke sharply when one of the soldiers smacked my bottom, hard, urging me into the back of the wagon when my movements were deemed not swift enough. I heard Christus growl from behind me, and shot him a warning glance.

We were, at the moment, unarmed. Angering the soldiers would only result in an injury for one of us, and we needed to be in top condition if either of us was to survive.

I cringed at the thought. Yes, it would likely take the both of us working together to stay alive. And then one of us would be forced to kill the other . . . and I would not be killing Christus.

“Hello, lovely Lilia.”

My feet had barely made it onto the wooden bottom of the carpentum when the man already seated in it addressed me. It was Bavarius, sitting in the wagon, looking ready to take a journey that I had not thought he was going on.

I recoiled, backing up rapidly. Christus was behind me, and his hands came to rest possessively on my hips.

“What are you doing here?”
Lovely Lilia . . .
something in the way in which Bavarius addressed me worried at a memory, but I could not connect them and did not have time to think on it longer. “I thought we were to be taken to the arena.” I did not like being in such close quarters with the man—his stench made my skin crawl. It helped that Christus was there, soothing me with his touch.

The noise of the wagon and the soldiers had brought the men stumbling from their own quarters. In singles and pairs, they silently made their way onto the sands, and not a one of them looked happy.

“What is he doing up there?” It was one of those closest to Bavarius himself who spoke, and it thrilled me instead to see the betrayal on his face.

Arrogant to the last, Bavarius settled back on the bench on which he was seated, the picture of nonchalance. “Has no one yet shared this?” His smile was smug, and I wanted to take his lips and twist them until he cried. “I have been invited to play in the games as well. Three gladiators from the house of Philipus Septus Octavius. Does that not make you happy, lovely Lilia?”

Lovely Lilia
. . . in that second I knew. “You are the one telling Gaius about me.” Bavarius smirked and did not deny it. I felt sick.

“What did he promise you?” From behind me, Christus’ voice was hot with anger. “Did he promise that you would win these games if you told him secrets? That coin and fame would be yours and yours alone?”

Bavarius merely shrugged, content with the deal that he had clearly made. I ground my teeth together, struggling with the well of feeling—it had been enough, knowing that someone was watching me, and was reporting details of my life to Gaius. But that that person was Bavarius was an extra blow.

The thought of his eyes on me at all revolted me to my core.

“Ignore him.” I felt the strength of Christus at my side, watched as he glared at Bavarius. I felt better with my lover’s dominating presence there. I knew that Bavarius was far less likely to try anything with me while Christus hovered protectively.

Inhaling deeply, I took one long look around the training area. The men surrounded it in a rough circle, their faces pale in the waning moonlight. None of them looked pleased. Not only had Bavarius betrayed one of the brotherhood—me—he had cheated each of them out of their fair chance at fame.

A sudden realization made me laugh. Bavarius stared at me as if I had gone mad, and I could not help but smile even more.

“You stupid, stupid man.” I saw his fists clench at my words, his knuckles turning white as his nails bit into his palms. Bavarius was never overly confident in himself, this I knew—it was why he was forever struggling to dominate those around him. He did not like insults.

I did not care.

“Do you not understand?” Making sure that my movements were deliberately calm, I sat on the bench facing Bavarius, folding my hands in my lap neatly. Christus sat beside me, his face as if carved from stone.

“Gaius promised that you would win—he promised you fame throughout the Empire, wine, women, and wealth. He might have been truthful; he might not. But look around you, Bavarius.” I gestured widely to the men that he had cheated. “He did not promise you freedom, did he? You will still have to return here. And then you will have to contend with the anger of these men, and though I might be generalizing, not a one of them looks very happy with you.”

At that moment, as one of the soldiers gave a yell, and the carpentum began to move, Bavarius did not look very happy himself.

It was a small victory, but one that sustained me for the duration of the ride to the arena.

I
thought that Gaius should count himself a lucky man in the morning, if any of his chosen gladiators were still alive to participate in his cursed games.

Whatever had possessed him to place thirty some men—two from each ludus—Rome’s most revered fighters, in a room together had to have taken leave of his senses. The tension in the small holding chamber was so thick that it left a taste on my tongue.

“Perhaps the man is stupid, after all.” Christus and I sat in a corner of the small stone room, our backs pressed against the chill of the wall. We were careful not to touch, not to display affection in any way, for we did not know how the others would react to our bond.

Likely Bavarius had told them anyway. I now understood that we had not been as secretive as we had imagined. The dominus had known, and the likeliest candidate to have told him was my enemy.

However they had found out, we were getting more stares than the others in the room combined.

“Gaius does nothing by chance.” I did not know the man well, but everything about him spoke of slow, methodical preparation. There was a reason that he had put us all together, where we had nothing to do but study the faces, the sizes of those we were meant to kill.

Some I had met in the arena, in matches where both of our lives had been spared. Others I knew by reputation alone. All were strong, all were well trained. If I were to meet one of them on the sands of the arena, I felt certain that I would triumph, for I always had an edge—I was always underestimated because of my size and my sex.

But all of them, together . . .

Fear was a tangible thing.

That was likely what the entire point of the exercise was. Gaius wanted us to feel fear. It would heighten the excitement of the crowd, which would in turn lead them to view him more favorably.

“Why do you think that Gaius is holding these games?” My voice was low, meant for Christus’ ears only. “He said that he has plans. But what are they? Does he plan to run for office?”

“That is my thought, but I do not understand why.” Christus stroked his fingers over the prickle of beard that shadowed his chin. “As brother of the emperor, his place in life is ensured. He has no need to hold public office.”

On this point I thoroughly agreed. Again, I reflected that Gaius did not do things by chance. There was a reason, one that we would find out soon, I was certain.

From above, a great noise, louder than thunder when it cracked across the sky, startled the stillness from the room. With cries ranging from shock to blood lust, those of us in the room stood if we were seated and pressed our backs to the wall if they were not already, instinct taking over.

All heads turned up, squinting through the dim light, trying to see what was happening.

Rock scraped over rock, the sounds painful to the ears, as the ceiling to the chamber where we all stood slid away. The light in the room brightened, then wavered.

I noticed that Bavarius was cowering behind a larger man, fear evident on his face. I could do naught but shake my head.

I heard it before I saw it, the gurgle of flowing water. Great streams of it flooded into the room from above, soaking us all, unannounced.

I gasped at the chill—the water was as cold as anything I had ever felt. The great streams continued, until my leathers were dripping, and my hair lay flat on my head.

Christus held tightly to my hand as the wet streamed over us, making sure that we were not separated, and he sputtered as much as I.

Slowly, the flooding ceased, dwindling to small trickles that danced down the walls of rock like snakes. Around me men shook like dogs, drying water from their eyes, their ears, cursing all the while.

“What the fuck was the point of that?” one of them shouted, and other angry mutters followed. We all stood still, dripping to a man, as the ground-level door to our holding room was wrenched open.

On the other side stood one of the soldiers that had come to fetch Christus, Bavarius, and myself that morning. He looked around the room with a sneer on his face, as if breathing the same air as the rest of us was far beneath him.

“Every one of you needed a good bath.” It took a brave man to insult a room full of gladiators. The soldier gestured impatiently for us to follow him. “Single file. No talking. There are guards the entire way to the palace, so do not think to escape.”

The palace? Surely we were not being taken to the palace of the emperor himself?

“Hurry up.” We were led through some sort of underground tunnel, then up huge flights of stairs, and finally, finally, through a door.

The noise of the room after the quiet of the underground was very nearly deafening. It was an assault on the senses, and I wished for my sword, to defend myself.

Christus dared a small brush of his fingers against my back, and I inhaled deeply. His touch was a lifeline, anchoring me in this strange world that we had just entered.

The soldier led us to the front of the room, where we were halted. Unsteady on my feet, I blinked out at the crowd of people who had paused in the midst of their party to stare—all wealthy patricians, by the appearance of their clothing, their hairstyles, and their jewels. Wine flowed freely, and had for some time, to judge by the flushed faces and glassy eyes of the rich. Slaves circulated with golden platters of juicy quinces and ripe figs, and the smell of roasted lamb made the juices in my belly gurgle.

A great gong sounded, and the patricians ceased their talk, They all turned expectantly toward an ornately arched entryway on the far side of the room.

Gaius sidled through, the expression on his face smug, though I imagined he thought that it was regal. A toga that could have kept an entire household in grain for a year was draped over his slender body, and the golden strands of his hair had been carefully rubbed with oil of some sort, so that his head gleamed as if he wore a crown.

On his arm was a woman whom I had never seen before. She was tall, and while her frame was somewhat more slender and muscular than Roman society would have deemed fashionable, there was no denying that she was a very attractive woman. A toga of turquoise silk draped that frame, clinging and enticing, accentuating the collar and cuffs of massive sapphires that circled her wrists and throat.