Marcus: An Ancient Roman Reverse Harem Romance (Gladiator Book 5)

by Nhys Glover

In the next moment, Asterius cried out and I felt his seed spilling inside me. This was what I had needed. This completed me. Though I did not understand why, having my men climax so close to my womb made me feel whole. It had been this way with Orion. It felt the same way now. An overwhelming sense of peace settled over me.

  When Asterius stilled and drew out, Talos lowered me on top of him, and I rested my head on his shoulder. Typhon slid in behind me so I was sandwiched between the two, damp muscular bodies. So warm, so very warm and comforting.

  Asterius sagged and collapsed at my feet dramatically, I could not help giggling tiredly. For these few precious moments the world of blood and danger had disappeared. I felt safe and protected and loved. I expected to feel guilty for having forgotten Pater as I took my pleasure, but I did not. I felt nothing but bliss.

  “That was better than I imagined it would be,” Talos said, his voice a rumble like thunder under my ear. “Which is saying a lot.”

  “Mmm...” agreed Typhon.

  I turned to look at Asterius who had his arm over his eyes. “Asterius?”

  “What?” he grunted out, all playfulness gone.

  This was not the response I was expecting. Had he not enjoyed it? After all this time, after all the times we had come so close... had the build-up been more than the reality actually turned out to be for him?

  I slid out from under the other two and crawled down to where he lay. I drew his arm off his eyes so I could look into his eyes.

  I saw tears in them. My heart quaked. Gods, what was wrong?

  “Asterius?”

  “It was bad. Every day was torture being away from you. Then I thought you were dead in the fire and then defiled by Parthians... So much fear and pain. Now...”

  I lay my head on his chest, feeling his pain. Understanding it too well.

  “Gods, Accalia, you have no idea what this was like for me. It was as if all that pain and grief pushed down the scales on one side so that the pleasure on the other side could be so much greater. Being inside you I felt whole. Spilling my seed in you felt... right. I can’t explain it.”

  I kissed his sweating chest. My Asterius was not just a pleasure-loving flirt who took life too easily. He felt so much more than any of us probably realised.

  “That is how it felt to me too. Like I was whole. I feel complete now.”

  At that moment the door opened and Orion strode in. I felt a moment’s apprehension, worried that he would be jealous or feel left out. And I was right to worry because in those first seconds I saw those feelings cross his face. But they were quickly replaced by acceptance and relief.

  “We didn’t go to the baths,” Asterius told him, tongue-in-cheek and back to his old self. “Obedient pack, aren’t we?”

  “From all the water on the floor and the soggy piles of clothes everywhere, I suppose you made do here,” Orion observed dryly.

  “We made do,” I agreed languidly. “I would wash you if I had the energy. If you can wait a little while I could do it then.”

  Orion reached down and stroked my fast-drying hair with gentle fingers. “Are you all right?”

  “More than all right. No cocks need to be cut off here. It was amazing... You should have been here.”

  “Would you have wanted me to be?” he asked stiffly, stepping away to drop a pile of clothing he had been carrying onto the trunk.

  I rose up on my elbow, trying to think why I would not want him to have been here. Then I remembered.

  “I do not think you are a monster, Orion. I told you that the day we started our journey here. I just get scared sometimes. Death is frightening, even when it is not you being killed. But I know you did what had to be done. I love you. I want you. But my body... my body needs time to recover first.”

  He laughed then, that light, youthful sound that I had first heard at Maleka’s and which had disappeared again once we had rejoined the others. No... it was not rejoining the rest of the pack that had caused him to go back into his controlled shell. It was my reaction to what he had done. I had hurt him badly, even though I had told him I did not think poorly of him.

  The reality was, there had been moments when I did fear that savage part of him, and I had let him see it. Now I regretted my reactions and my feelings. Hurting him was the last thing I ever wanted to do.

  “Rest, little she-wolf. Because I am not sure how long I will be able to wait. You have no idea what a sight you make, lying there naked and boneless amongst the carnage you have wrought on my pack.”

  Asterius chuckled tiredly. “Carnage it was. Bloody and world-changing.”

  Just knowing he was aroused by the sight of us had me studying Orion as he made use of what was left of the water to clean himself. He didn’t bother with his hair, just as the others had left that part untended.

  As I watched, water trickling down all that golden muscular flesh, I was surprised to find my energy returning.

  I rose shakily to my feet. With a cheeky grin for Asterius, I climbed over him to get to Orion, who had just replaced the wet rag into the remnants of the water.

  Going up onto tiptoes, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. It reminded me of the time I had seduced him. Then I had pleaded with him to take what I offered. Now... Now he was only too anxious to claim me.

  Our mouths fused hungrily, and I felt the last of his reservations fade away. I could not kiss him like this if I thought him a monster, could I? That was his thinking, I knew. And he was right. Gone was the sight of him covered in blood. What remained were images of us in Maleka’s bathing room. The way he had looked after me so tenderly on that first night. I would never have expected that level of gentleness from my hard-faced pack-mate.

  As our tongues danced, his hands roamed over my body. He had to lift me up so he could keep me where he wanted me. But after a short time I wriggled to be set down again so I could explore him more fully.

  I knew the others watched us. I felt their eyes on me. It fuelled my passion. But none intruded. They must have known that Orion needed this. And they were now content for him to have it.

  When he lay me down on a pallet and entered me, I gasped out my pleasure. His hot length was so blissfully familiar to me now, so welcome. And as I clung to him as he brought us both to completion, I gloried in the sensations coursing through my body. I gloried in knowing we were all whole for the first time.

  We were the Wolf Pack. No one or nothing would ever separate us again.

  Chapter Four

  May 65 CE Colonia Claudia Victricensis BRITANNIA

  MARCUS

  The day was warm and sunny, the first we had experienced for the Festival of Floralia, which ran over the last few days of April and into the first few days of May when spring was supposed to be burgeoning. Here at the cold and rainy end of the world Flora seemed to have absented herself until today when she arrived in a flourish with the brilliant sunshine. I could almost see the wild flowers blooming and the spring grasses growing.

  My heart lifted at the sight in a way it had not done since I received word of my upcoming marriage. It was not so much the news that had stolen my joy, but the absence of Phaedrus from my life. Though we still saw each other every day in the administration buildings, he never stopped to chat or share a joke. I had clearly hurt him, and though it tore me up inside, I knew his absence was for the best.

  What could come of our love, if that was what he felt for me? It was one thing to feel the excitement of the subtle flirting we had indulged in, knowing it could go nowhere; it was another thing completely to know my feelings were returned and yet impossible to act on. It was torture. So it was better the way it was.

  Every day I expected to see Ennia Corva arrive. That it had not happened yet worried me a little. Had it taken longer than expected for the Wolf Pack to find and rescue their mistress? They had gone in search of her at the start of January. That was four months ago. What if she and the pack had received word of her pater’s death and decided to flee the empire and start afresh s
omewhere else? It would be something I would consider seriously in her place.

  But while Ennia might be unconventional, she still took her duty to her family’s legacy seriously. In missives she had sent me, I knew how her uncle had tried to wrest power from her hands over the Wolf Pack’s appearances. The man knew nothing about the world of gladiatorial combat, and yet he considered himself superior to Ennia simply because he was male. If he gained control of the breeding and training program, not to mention the troupe of gladiators Corvus owned, it would be a disaster. So I expected Ennia to bend to her pater’s will and marry me, if only to save her family’s legacy.

  As I walked along the busy streets, flanked by two auxiliaries, I enjoyed the feel of the midday sun on my face. It felt like my soul wanted to explode out of my chest but, when it could not, resorted to setting my skin to tingling. To ease my restlessness, I turned toward the site of the building work. It had been moving slowly for months now because of the weather. It was hard to build walls when icy rain poured down on you and the cement took longer to set.

  The section of the wall currently under construction was on the north western side of the settlement. The governor wanted this seat of Roman power to be protected from the northern tribes first and the river already provided some protection to the north. The rest of the wall would come later.

  To accommodate growth, the wall was located well away from the current streets and habitation. Although habitation was a subjective term. Most of the buildings and even the temple had been destroyed during the uprising and the shanty town that had been erected hurriedly to accommodate the troops, retired legionaries, and the tradesmen who serviced the colony, were little more than roughly thrown together stone huts. Construction of better accommodation was under way, but that was being held back, just as the building of the wall was being hampered, by the inclement weather.

  “Will the festivities draw a crowd, do you think, now the weather has improved?” I asked the men on either side of me, just to make conversation.

  “I expect so, sir,” Julianus said stiffly, his accent heavily Hispanic.

  I sighed. This was not the easy chatting I enjoyed with Phaedrus. These soldiers saw me as their superior officer and, as such, out of their social network. I would not be expected to join them for a mug of ale when we were off-duty. I would not be told the gossip or tales of their families back home.

  Loneliness assailed me afresh. Though it was a familiar friend. Except for the year I spent as part of the Wolf Pack, I had never known true friendship.

  Yes, I was close to Ennia, but that was more like a sibling bond than friendship. We shared little in common. Had she been more feminine in her interests we might have had more to talk about, but she was as interested in clothes and adornments as I was interested in surgical techniques and herbal medicines.

  And males of my own class courted me for my political connections. Secretly, they laughed at me for my outrageously effeminate ways.

  Interestingly, though, since taking up my post in the legions, I had lost a lot of my playful excesses. There was just no place for them, although I still played the fool whenever I felt public opinion was turning against me.

  It was my way of rebelling, I had decided years ago. It was my way of saying, ‘To Hades with the lot of you, I am who I am! You think me odd, I will show you just how odd I can be!’

  Phaedrus had been right about me. I did hide behind my outrageous, joking persona. He was likely the only one who had ever really seen beneath it.

  As we reached the wall, which was little more than a long, wide trench resembling a straight, soggy riverbed, I studied the small amount of work that had been completed. One end of the trench was piled high with boulders, surrounded by the beginnings of an exterior wall of alternating tile and sundried mud-bricks. Currently it rose two paces—or ten feet—overhead, but only for a few paces. It would reach twice that height when it was finished.

  Here was where the activity should have been taking place. But no military or local workmen were in sight and only a small group of armoured soldiers could be seen milling around under a newly blossoming tree nearby. It was a feast day after all, and these men would prefer to be at the festivities rather than supervising the building of the wall.

  “Stay here while I check the work. I want to see if the cement is setting properly,” I told my men.

  After a glance at their fellows and then in the direction I was heading, they reluctantly nodded. They were my guards, but no one expected me to need them. If an attack occurred, I had a sword at my hip and was quite capable of using it. Though the chances of such an attack, now the Iceni were subdued, were highly unlikely.

  So I left my guards to enjoy the sunshine and the company of their peers to go and do my duty. It was the midday meal time for the local workers and legionary workforce were elsewhere. That was fine. I did not need them getting underfoot as I examined their work. If I was unhappy with it, I would tell them later.

  I was leaning over, studying the seams between freshly laid stones when it happened. In part of my mind I was aware of the soldiers laughing and talking not far away, although I could no longer see them from where I stood. I could hear a dog barking and the sound of squealing children at play somewhere in the distance. Above it all, I heard the sound of running footsteps approaching me from the opposite direction to my men.

  Before I had a chance to look around or stand up, my head exploded with pain. Darkness followed quickly after.

  When I came to I was in a wagon. I knew this instantly, though my head was covered with a sack. My arms were tied uncomfortably behind my back. When I tried to kick out I discovered my feet were bound to my hands, bowing my back nearly to breaking point. The pain in my screaming muscles made me nauseous. But I could not allow myself to be sick, not with a gag in my mouth. I would suffocate on my own vomit if I were to give in to that urge. But the pounding in my head was thunderous, the ache in my twisted body was unrelenting, and the stench of rotting root vegetables, the previous occupants of the sack, all had my stomach churning dangerously.

  The rumble and bounce of the wagon drew me from my misery. I needed to find out where I was and discover a way to get free. Though I had a thousand questions about why I had been kidnapped and by whom, none of that mattered right now. All that concerned me was escape.

  I could tell by the hardness under me that I was on wooden floorboards. From the feel of it, there were sacks on either side of me, likely more root vegetable sacks. It was dark, musty and humid, so there was a skin covering the wagon. This would keep me hidden from any of the people the wagon passed.

  And I could hear people. It sounded like the kind of crowds to be found in marketplaces or at festival events. There would be games and theatre productions going on around the town all day. People were probably coming in from all over the local area for the entertainment and the sunshine.

  How had no one seen me being taken? Why had my guards not come to my rescue or sent out an alarm when they realised I was gone? A missing officer, even one involved with administrative matters, could not go missing without consequences. And if the fact I was a tribunus was not enough incentive, then my position as eldest son of a powerful equestrian would have to draw attention. Someone would have to try to find me.

  Was I being ransomed? I had heard of people being taken prisoner, usually by pirates at sea, and held for ransom. But that was not the same as being taken from my post right under the noses of my guards.

  My head was hurting a little less now, and the nausea had abated somewhat, so my brain could function more clearly. I decided that I needed to do what I could to attract attention. Even if bystanders did nothing about a wagon rocking about unnaturally, they might tell the legionaries who questioned them about the unusual sight. Anything was better than doing nothing. Helplessness was my greatest enemy. I had learned that very early in my life.

  If I shifted from my side to my back, I could try to rock myself up onto my knees. I could t
hen make the covering over me jump up and down by bobbing my head. It might be just enough of an oddity to attract attention.

  But the strain on my muscles and joints was already excruciating, and my face was nearly rubbed raw on the rough interior of the sack. I had to keep stopping to draw breath in through my nose, which seemed to be somewhat blocked by the fumes in the sack. My jaw ached from the filthy gag in my mouth. I would have tried to call out through the gag if I thought I could have been heard over the rumbling of the wagon or the noise of the crowd.

  By the time I had wriggled myself into a position where I could begin to lift myself up, the wagon came to a jolting stop, sending me sprawling sidewards again. For a moment, the agony darkened my vision.

  Was I going to pass out again?

  I could not give in to unconsciousness, any more than I could give into nausea. If we had stopped, then maybe I would be removed from the wagon any time now. I needed to be ready to act. The gods only knew how I would perform that feat, trussed up as I was, but I was determined to try.

  The darkness eased a little as the covering on the wagon was removed. Though I could not appreciate the fresh air that came with it, I did feel a little less suffocated.

  Rough hands grabbed at my arms and dragged me from the wagon. It took everything I had to remain limp so they would think me still unconscious.

  “Get him aboard and be quick about it,” one gruff voice said in common Latin. Not local tribesmen then.

  Two sets of hands lifted me up by my arms and began carrying me along. I knew they were walking through mud because I heard the squishing under their feet. This was likely the river the locals called Colne, which ran to the north and east of the settlement. It flowed into the Mare Germanicum. If they put me on a vessel here and took me to the mainland of Gallia I would be lost. No one looking for me in the settlement would ever think to look there.

  Panic had me bucking and writhing to escape, the suddenness of my movements taking my captors by surprise. They dropped me into the mud, and I felt the cold slop as the mud splattered me. But I did not let that stop me. I would not allow these bastards to get me on their boat and away from here. I was as good as dead if I did.