Surrender to the Roman

by M. K. Chester

  She accepted this truth, but her spirit could not abide such kind treatment any longer. Her heart broke under the strain.

  Refusing to raise her eyes, she sat still under his scrutiny. Maybe he would see what she saw.

  Or let his anger take control before she admitted any feeling for him. Whether gratitude or attraction, she’d rather choke on her own tongue before the admissions passed her lips.

  “Ademeni…” Marcus knelt before her, a not so subtle change in tactics.

  She turned her head, but her heart thundered. She had sworn to bring him to his knees. If they looked into each other’s eyes, she feared they would both see too much. Her body flared with the possibilities even as she avoided him.

  Her attraction to Marcus posed a risk she must not take. As a daughter of Dacia, she could not justify such an attachment. Her father would curse her from the afterlife.

  She understood a few things about Marcus. This particular man was a loyal soldier of Rome whose emperor would return within the day. He would never forsake his position for a slave woman, no matter who she’d been in a previous life. She doubted that telling him of her terrible encounter with Tertullian could change that.

  She sorted her few options as long moments slid by in silence.

  Her former life had been decimated. She’d seen the fate of her people firsthand. To go back to Dacia now would be difficult at best. If she could not take her sister, such a journey would be pointless.

  To continue to live here in a state of slavery was also unacceptable. Marcus would leave with his next appointment, and she would be in the hands of a hateful woman like Flora or at the mercy of a brute like Tertullian, no matter the buffer of Lucia.

  Only one option remained.

  “Sell me.” The two words escaped in a rough whisper as she thought them. She glanced at the general on his knees, then stared into the garden and back again.

  Marcus’s face paled. “What did you say?”

  “Sell me, I beg you,” she repeated, choking on her misery. “I cannot tolerate your kindness. You patronize me. It means nothing to you and everything to me.”

  A jolt shot through her as he reached up and tilted her chin toward him. She shielded her thoughts behind a cold stare.

  “You don’t know what you ask.”

  Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit down to quiet her nerves. His earnest eyes held dismay, care and concern. All the things she didn’t want to see.

  The sentiments meant nothing. She pulled in a shaky breath. “You say I cannot go home, and you did not ask for me. No matter how I provoke you, you refuse to make me what I am—your slave. One day, your duty will take you from Rome, and where will that leave me?”

  Marcus stood and backed away, his face an unreadable mask. “This is truly what you want?”

  As though she had any other choice. As though, over time, this would not be the best solution to everyone’s problems. Besides, she could not say what she truly wanted because she could not have it.

  Setting those thoughts loose would be like unleashing the Furies. Once uttered, they could not be undone.

  “You are as hard of hearing as your deaf gods.” She rose to challenge him one last time. “If you will not make me a slave in your house, perhaps someone else will make me a slave in theirs.”

  “Your life will be brutal and short.”

  “All the better.” She stepped forward, close enough to touch him. “Tertullian was right. You are too weak a man to own a woman like me.”

  Marcus tightened his jaw, and Ademeni smiled at the flicker of anger that tensed his entire body. She pushed him toward the conclusion. “Break me, or sell me.”

  As a final insult, she raised her arm and reached back to slap him across the face.

  * * *

  Marcus grabbed Ademeni’s wrist on the upswing, halting her hand inches from his face. Had she lost her senses? Why anger him yet again?

  He glowered into her anxious face. If he didn’t care what happened to her, he would have left her fate lying in the muck of the streets.

  His fingers tightened around her slender arm. Her skin felt cold to the touch. He should release her, yet he resisted the thought of letting her go.

  “Come.” He tugged her forward, sliding his hand down her arm to take her by the hand.

  Tears sparkled in her eyes. Frustration rolled from her in waves, starting with her frown. “Where are we going?”

  Where indeed? He should throw her into the water and let her sink or swim as the gods saw fit. One turn after another she’d defied, tested and made his pulse race.

  But her ploy to provoke him had failed again. He remained well in control of his impulses—and hers. “I can’t sell you if you smell like the street.”

  Her brows furrowed, and she resisted.

  “Shall I throw you over my shoulder once more?”

  “Do you want to?” she quipped, one eyebrow arched.

  Something other than anger rose in his veins. In one blink of her dark, mysterious eyes the temperature between them had warmed. “I can control myself.”

  Her faint smirk said that she doubted he could.

  “Come.” He motioned her forward. “Or I carry you. Your choice.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Reluctance mingled with anticipation and raced up Ademeni’s spine. Marcus urged her forward, to the bath. He’d diffused her last desperate attack with cruel efficiency, and now he wanted to peel away her remaining resistance.

  Along with her clothing.

  Her skin prickled at the thought of his touch. She’d repressed their night together as best she could to spare herself disappointment.

  Marcus parted the curtain. Steam curled around his body and seemed to pull him into the room. She followed, more from curiosity now than his insistence.

  She bit her lip and allowed him to draw her into the humidity. The dewy air settled on her skin but did little to diffuse her nervous expectation.

  The darkness and silence of the house amplified each drop of water, each breath and footfall, and provided a false sense of privacy. She felt bolder than she would have in daylight.

  Stepping close, she pressed her hand against his lower back. He stopped and she leaned her cheek against his shoulder, breathing in his unique scent. With great reluctance, she untangled her hand from his and walked to the edge of the pool.

  A deep breath of rose-tinted air did little to quell the tremble in her limbs. Inexperience dogged her. She’d heard her sisters’ stories of how to seduce men and rifled through them now. She did not want another night like the last, no matter how enjoyable.

  She wanted more than to be pleasured.

  Her hands curled into fists as she decided. This would not be another one-sided performance. By the gods, Marcus Cordovis would not be able to keep her at a distance tonight.

  Not if she could help it. If she was destined to lose control, she refused to go alone.

  She started when she felt his breath on the crown of her head as he turned to her, then circled behind. Close enough to touch, yet not touching, the warmth of his body spreading over her skin.

  Not another moment to waste.

  Turning on the balls of her feet, she came face to face with him. His eyes widened. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth, then faded to something far more serious.

  A thousand thoughts raced through her mind as he cupped her face. She stood at the edge of the unknown. How would his resistance crumble? All at once, or in slow pieces?

  His private demeanor unnerved her yet again, and she sucked in a breath. He went from being a soldier in charge of thousands to a single man focusing all his energy upon her.

  “Let me bathe you.” His thumbs caressed her cheeks as heat rose in her face.

  Ademeni took hold of his wrists and searched his expression for any hint of humor or trickery. No pretense accompanied his request. She found her footing surer now than in the light of day. She felt like a princess again, the center of his wo
rld.

  Her pulse thundered in her ears. Extraordinary—in all these days, he’d never forgotten who she’d been on the day he’d discovered her hiding in the cellar—the daughter of the king. In an exaggerated gesture, she lowered her eyes, granting permission to do as he’d asked.

  Using the same precision with which he’d removed his armor, he slid his arms around her waist and gathered her tunic in his hands. He lifted the material in one swift motion, and she raised her arms so he could pull the garment over her head.

  Marcus tossed the rag aside with little regard, then removed his own tunic in turn. Ademeni shivered when he loosed the strip of cloth that bound her breasts, whether from the cool air that caressed her naked body or the masculine form before her, she could not sort out.

  Her hungry eyes roamed across his broad chest and shoulders, down his narrow waist, to his hips and well-muscled legs. His member stood semi-erect at the center of his body. She looked away as her cheeks flooded with heat only a heartbeat before her entire body warmed in anticipation.

  Gathering her boldness, she inspected him again.

  Cold, carved, marble gods had nothing on the form of Marcus Cordovis. Scars of a warrior littered his shoulders and arms. When she traced one long mark down the curve of his right shoulder, he covered her hand and stepped around her, onto the shallow steps of the bath.

  “Come.”

  Ademeni followed, entranced by the mechanics of his body as he led her to a niche where she could sit submerged to her shoulders in warm water.

  Tension drained from her limbs and the day’s ordeal floated away on scented steam. The grime of the city, the incense from the altars of Venus, Tertullian’s rancid touch. Nothing mattered now aside from the man before her, who immersed and bathed himself with his measured, practiced movements before returning his attentions to her.

  She hoped he would not use the same military style when he touched her. She wanted his hands to linger. A moment of challenge passed between them.

  Ademeni refused to wilt as his gaze caressed her, proud of her form and the way she seemed to please him. Starting with her hands, he worked oils into her skin, his fingers sliding deftly over her elbows and across her shoulders.

  Her eyes fluttered shut while Marcus massaged her shoulders, and she sighed when his touch wandered over her breasts, down her abdomen. Her mind turned away from the hardship of life toward more pleasurable things.

  Damn him.

  Her eyes opened. She remembered her scheme. She could not lose herself in the pleasure. No doubt this was his plan. If she didn’t make a move to involve him, she might never find the will.

  If his extravagant care of her meant anything, her next move would swing fate to her favor. When he lowered himself further into the water to massage her calves, she lifted her hand in a calculated gesture and laid it, dripping, atop his bowed head.

  Marcus froze at this obvious sign of her favor. Ademeni’s heart soared in victory.

  Seizing his moment of indecision, she pulled herself forward so that she sat a step above him. Looking into his now upturned eyes, she saw questions with no answers, a torment she wanted to ease.

  Water cascaded from her shoulders and a breeze soothed her warm skin, beading her nipples. Her fingertips faltered over his pulled brows, straight nose and stubbled jaw.

  Hunger flashed in his eyes, but behind that, Ademeni glimpsed longing. She did not know the last time he’d lain with a woman. Could Julia have been his last favored partner? Surely he had no need to deny his carnal desires, yet something told her…

  Her lips curved into a smile. She hoped her will would be enough to bring him into this night. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips over his and prayed to his goddess Venus that her efforts would be more than ample.

  * * *

  Marcus braced himself against the bottom of the pool while Ademeni’s mouth bloomed over his. His senses drank her in like sweet honey-hued wine. Little doubt remained that she would spend what was left of this night in his arms.

  She slipped through the water and into his embrace, her lithe body skimming over his. He fell backward and kicked his legs to keep them afloat.

  All the while he lost his heart to this woman who had no idea what she did to him. She made him forget himself, his duty, his past. His tight control on everything around him evaporated, like the steam that surrounded them and clouded his vision.

  His fingers trailed down her spine, paused at her hips and pulled her against his hardness. Her face changed, softened, and her eyes fluttered closed. He choked on the yearning to take her like a young bull.

  She tasted like no other and the smooth strokes of her tongue and hands tied him in knots. His heart battered his ribs, propelled by a shooting stab of fear.

  Fingers slid through her wet hair. Who was he to take her, a woman royal born? She’d laid her hand on his head, a clear signal that she still saw herself on that pedestal. A soldier had no business with such women, even if fate had turned her into a slave.

  He should have learned that lesson from Julia.

  She sighed, her soft flesh sliding across his, their legs tangling underwater. He lost his balance in more ways than one.

  Together, they dipped underwater, bubbles of air weaving toward the surface. Marcus held her close, sealing his lips against hers. When he could hold his breath no longer, he kicked against the tile and propelled them upward.

  Ademeni threw her head back and gasped for air. Beads of water clung to her ivory skin, to her eyelashes. They dripped from her hair and rolled down her neck to form lazy streams. He licked them from her shoulder as if the gods had dripped honey over her body.

  Her fingers curled through his damp hair, each motion stoking the fire he’d fought so hard to control. Each whisper of her warm breath sent him closer to the blind leap he both savored and feared.

  Leveling his weight against her, he pushed her to the wall. Her arms tightened around his neck, her breasts melded to his chest. Her legs parted under the pressure, and she gasped against his ear as he pressed against her softness.

  She braced herself against his shoulders, and her nails dug into his skin while his hands wandered down her body to grasp her hips. A groan escaped the back of his throat as his member slid across her.

  “Not here,” she whispered, her tone urgent. “Take me to your bed.”

  His blood at a boil, he barely understood her request. He pulled back on the reins of his lust before he took her in the water, like some kind of uncivilized animal.

  Freed from her position, she danced away and stepped out of the pool. She moved with slow purpose, and he followed in her footsteps. Grabbing a towel from the bench, he wrapped it around her shoulders and held her close a moment longer to inhale the roses clinging to her hair.

  A deep breath cleared his senses, but only until she turned to him, mischief flickering in her dark eyes. Her face was flushed, her breath ragged. Splotches of red dotted her chest and neck where his beard had scratched her.

  Then she smiled, as if she knew some secret he’d never divulged. “A great general never stops at the gates.”

  Marcus swallowed. A great general only stopped when commanded to do so by a superior, by her in this moment. Surely she meant to tease him, to drive him into motion.

  And he refused to disappoint her. He smiled and enjoyed her yelp of surprise as he flipped her over his shoulder once again. He’d suffered enough.

  And so had she.

  * * *

  Ademeni landed on her feet at the end of Marcus’s bed, the damp towel falling to the floor, instantly forgotten in her haste to embrace him, to warm herself in his arms.

  In all her conniving, she’d chosen to overlook how much his touch aroused her. How much she needed him in this way to slake her loneliness.

  She did not wait for him, but stepped to him and raised herself on her toes. The force behind her kiss surprised even her. Marcus responded by caging her in his arms and backing her toward the bed.

>   Leaving her feet once more, she suppressed a laugh as he tossed her onto the mattress. The glimpse of his moonlight-cut form pulled the air from her lungs. She reached upward. He twined his fingers through hers, and she pulled him forward to lie beside her.

  She pressed his palm against her breast, closing her eyes as he kneaded her flesh. Her body sprang to attention, the hair on her arms rising with each stroke of his fingers, her nipples and belly tightening in anticipation.

  That caress wandered from one breast to the other, then strayed down her stomach, lingering over her navel. His mouth picked up the trail, covering her body in persistent kisses. The chaff of his beard against her skin sent new chills down her spine.

  When Marcus swirled his tongue in her navel, Ademeni ran her fingers through his hair, urging him lower. She parted her knees. The feathering of his breath against her thighs heightened her desire for the unknown.

  He touched her swollen folds first with his fingers, then with his lips. Her grip on a thin thread of control slipped and she moaned.

  As his tongue stroked her, her nerves began to burn, and a thin sweat broke across her face. She opened herself to his exploration, panting when he slowed his pace, only to have her body wracked with pleasure once more as he persisted.

  Her muscles tightened, and she rose against him. At that signal, he pulled back to recline beside her, and she tried to catch her breath before he kissed her again.

  He released a groan that echoed off the stone walls. She reveled in his reaction to her, ached to hear more.

  So what if the whole house knew they’d consummated their odd attraction? What was the worst that could come of it? He would not sell her, not now that he knew what pleasure she could give him. Even if he left Rome, his house rendered her secure so long as he lived.

  He kissed her cheek, took her hand and placed her fingers around his erection. Under his careful guidance, he showed her how to touch him, how to move so that his eyes glazed with fever and his kisses became rough and passionate.

  A smile curved her lips when he grasped her hip and pulled her against him. She understood what he wanted, felt that he neared readiness. Sliding her leg against his, she raised herself and pushed him onto his back, so that she sat over him.