by Gordon, Eva
Ulric would not allow the dogs to harm the man who had raised them. He growled at the spectators and then walked to the still, warm bodies of the slain wolves. The moon prickled his back. He snarled an order to the wolves and dogs. They scattered, circling the remaining huntsmen.
As the handler ran past Lurco, the large gladiator threw his spear and impaled the fleeing man. The audience stood and roared with approval as the poor man succumbed. Lurco pulled out the spear and kicked him away. He and the other nine gladiators charged Ulric who commanded the maddened dogs to attack. His wolves moved in and hamstringed the gladiators, distracting them from focusing on any one dog or wolf. Lurco threw a net over one of the wolves and walked toward the wolf to make the kill.
Ulric roared at him, stopping Lurco in his tracks. He willed himself to shift, a sight that always silenced both his opponents and the throng. The tingle of the prickling wolf hairs on his back and the feel of fangs erupting from his gums made him growl with satisfaction. The cracking of bones and reshaping of form must have appeared painful to humans, but in reality, it was as pleasurable as sexual release. The surge of the wolf’s powers raced through him like an erupting volcano. Where only moments ago stood a man, now stood a massive tattooed grey wolf with a silver streak on the right side of his head.
Ulric’s massive head turned toward Lurco, who in defiance spat on the ground, raising his spear to kill the helpless wolf. The bear-sized wolf leapt on Lurco and with one swipe of his massive paw sent the gladiator’s head flying toward the first row. He twisted around. The wolves finished off the dying gladiators. His heart felt heavy as two of the fierce mastiffs whimpered and licked the bloody face of their former master.
Today’s entertainment ended, the Germanian forest just a stage, but if the Romans wanted a fight, Ulric would give them one. He glowered at Macula and stalked toward him. People screamed and ran. His wolf was too deep in blood lust and desire for revenge to think of the consequence. Emperor Domitian stood and backed away. The fool must think he wanted his blood. Not a bad idea after how he had murdered thousands. He narrowed his eyes on the emperor before he growled in wolf to Macula, “Coward, fight me like a wolf!”
The gates opened and Praetorian Guards marched in. Weapons ready, they stood in front of the Emperor’s tier.
How many soldiers would he have to kill to reach Macula? Would he even manage to get through? He emitted a low growl. His hackles up, he rolled his lips back, exposing his fierce fangs as he stepped closer. An enraged wolf bigger than a lion, thinking only as a beast. Ready to leap, he suddenly stopped.
The scent! Cassia. His eyes searched. There. On the opposite side of Macula. She stood and met his eyes. Their trance was broken by an older man who pulled her back to her seat. Ulric glanced back at the ready soldiers. Thoughts of his mother and den brothers murdered because of his folly flooded his mind. Ulric shifted and stretched his corded arms to the sky. “I am the victor!” He slowly turned to face the emperor who controlled his life. Fear and hate lingered in Domitian’s eyes for the man who had come close to assassinating him.
“Ulric!” The audience followed their calls with loud cheers. They had been entertained. The emperor smiled and spared him. Ulric searched for Cassia, but she pushed her way out of the crowded arena. No doubt disgusted by his bestial behavior. He fought the urge to find her. Better she not end up entangled in his miserable life.
Chapter 2
Cassia strolled through the market in search of fennel, mint, and cumin to serve as a digestive aid for Gaius’s human patients. She inhaled the aromatic spices as if she were a wolf enjoying the smells. She glanced at a stall in the crowded alley that had what she needed. Fennel. Looked fresh. Near the fennel, pungent garlic accosted her nose. Why not get a stalk? Expensive, but it provided medicinal benefits and tasted good with fish. Garlic was popular with gladiators who ate the herb in large amounts. They believed it gave them strength and endurance. Ulric had not reeked of it as other gladiators did. Lycans had no need for the pungent supplement since their strength was ten times that of man.
The owner of the stand handed her the stalk. “Lovely lady, buy it before the next games.” His gaze roamed her body with a lewd smile.
She glared at him, and on seeing her eyes he immediately cast his gaze down. Green-colored eyes deemed evil, struck the superstitious Romans with fear. She pointed. “Wrap the fennel as well.” She picked up a sprig of fresh mint and waved it under her nose as another woman squeezed through, waving her hand to get his attention. Cassia pushed away the woman who wore the garb of a slave. Shoving in the marketplace was such a common occurrence none considered it rude. “And this.” No time to barter a better price, since the day grew overcast. Best she get home, before the threatening rain.
He wrapped and then handed the vegetables to her. “Good, my domina. Any later and there would not be any garlic left.”
Cassia dropped them in her sac. She had not been to the market since she had stumbled upon Ulric, yet she thought of him more than she should. It had been more than a week, but people talked about the Wolf Hunt spectacle as if it just had happened. She glanced at the graffiti on the walls that depicted Ulric’s savagery. Yet he was not savage. It had broken her heart to see Ulric on his knees, in mourning for his lost pack. She had not intended to attend the spectacle but Gaius had insisted. If the lycan was critically injured, he wanted her by his side. At first, she had refused to go for principle’s sake. Like most in the Lupercal, she hated the arena’s cruelty and the use of lycans as tools for their entertainment. Principle or not, she needed to ensure Ulric lived.
Thunder boomed behind the darkening clouds. Moisture hung in the air, unusual for the late summer. Cassia quickened her pace and brushed by an equestrian wearing a crimson blood red cloak, tall and lean with silver white hair. He reminded her of Albius. She missed Albius, who lived in Aventicum with his family. Oh, such fond memories of playing with lycan children and running in the woods.
As she strolled through the crowded alleyway, street urchins darted around the crowds. She recalled how her life had changed. She too was once an orphan.
As she turned a corner, a big blacksmith with a large barreled girth caught her eye. His face and thick arms were sooty. His thick black curls caked in sweat appeared oiled to his scalp. He was just another brazier blacksmith forging short fighting blades known as gladius swords. He seemed vaguely familiar. The cleft on his chin and the wild black hair. Could it be Igal, the Judean boy? Her protector in the streets of Caesarea? Here in Rome? Yet Igal had been as thin as a reed. This man was round and large framed. Not possible. After so many years, might he recognize her? She stepped closer and parted her veil.
He wiped sweat off his brow and his eyes flashed toward her. Recognition lit his round face. “Shifra?”
She gasped. Oh, no. Gaius had warned her not to speak about her origins. The rumors of a Judean child seen with a female alpha long ago were still rampant in the lycan community. Rumors of a special child. A Valeria Luperca that had healed Albius of wolfsbane poisoning. Albius had laughed it off to others, saying the assassin had missed him. That he had feigned death in order to trap and kill him.
One thing was certain, the Caninus family, the most powerful pack in all of Rome, had sent the assassin. Igal must not talk. Her pulsed raced. She imagined the Caninus pack torturing the truth out of Gaius and then forcing her to serve their political needs.
He left his stall and headed in her direction. “Shifra!”
She gripped her sac of vegetables and fled. She pushed people out of the way and stumbled on the hem of her cloak but straightened and ran.
“Shifra!” He boomed.
It was not hard outrunning such a big man, yet he had the speed of a maddened boar. As she ran in the narrow alleyways, she wanted to laugh at the irony of the chase. She ran from the man who as a boy had protected her in the streets of Caesarea. Picking up her long hem, she ran faster. Twisting around to look, she lurched into the path of a litte
r carrying a rich woman and ran amidst the shouts to have her flogged. He no longer called for her. Panting hard, she looked over her shoulder. Had she lost him? She smoothed down her cloak and rested for a moment behind a sheltered stall when the downpour began. Not a slow gradual rain, but a severe one that pelted with the hard ferocity of stones. Stall owners rushed to cover their foods and goods while others scrambled for cover. She ran until she hit the familiar alleyways near her home. She turned to look, her lungs burning, her chest shuddering as she caught her breath. Good. Not followed. She must not tell Gaius about her folly. She could hear him shouting, “You stopped to look?”
She dashed inside, her long wet tunic clinging to her skin. She handed the cook Ferox the vegetables. He gaped at her, and she shrugged. “I should have come back earlier.”
“Much earlier,” he agreed and stored the produce. Except for the cook, they had no other slaves to help with mundane jobs. Ferox, old enough to be her grandfather, was trustworthy and had been in the Albius household for decades. He cooked and cleaned for the single physician and child. Gaius was careful about who he bought or hired. One slave he bought when they first moved to Rome took the blood vow, but soon after became inebriated and spoke of wolf men to three other men. He and these men met a ghastly end, their bodies weighted with bricks and thrown in the Tiber. Brutal lycan justice.
It was a wonder they had allowed Ulric to live after he’d shifted before thousands; then again, everybody believed the story that he was a cursed barbarian. The other omega gladiators were betas and fought only in the day and then only against wild animals. Ulric, an alpha, became Macula’s most powerful Bestiari gladiator. Not again. My thoughts always return to Ulric.
She removed her wet garments and dried her sodden hair.
“Cassia, is that you?” Gaius walked in and folded his arms.
“Yes.” She wrapped her nakedness despite the fact her body never interested her master. “I thought it would not rain until late this afternoon.”
He turned around giving her some semblance of modesty. “Did you get the herbs?”
“Yes, and garlic as well.” She donned a long tunic. “I’m done dressing.”
He turned and smiled. “Still thinking of Ulric?”
She frowned. “No, I just thought it would be good to have garlic stored for medicinal purposes.”
“Come, sit by the heat before you get sick.”
She followed him and fingered her hair away from her face. She sat by the bronze brazier as he suggested, the warmth soaking into her chilled body.
He clapped his hands. “Ferox, bring us wine and something to eat.”
The old slave brought in heated spiced wine with fresh bread and pickled fish on a tray.
Cassia sipped the warm wine. She sighed. Above her, the rain pelted the roof. She closed her eyes and a vision of Ulric standing in the rain, letting his thick fur soak entered her mind. When she first saw him shift in the arena, he dwarfed both men and lycan. She had never seen a more magnificent wolf. Gray with streaks of silver and fine tattoo spirals around his body. The same spirals were visible on his chest. The silver on the side of his wolf head was like the small silver streak he had on the right side of his long thick brown mane when he was in human form. His blue grey eyes added contrast to his dark hair. An immense and regal wolf, meant to be an alpha of a pack. Not a collared omega to serve as a slave gladiator and bodyguard for the despicable Caninus Macula.
Gaius removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. “Look at your goose bumps. Are they from the cold or perhaps because of womanly thoughts?” he teased with an fluttering gesture.
Cassia’s face flushed. She regretted telling him of her attraction to Ulric. She huffed. “How does Macula get away with keeping such a powerful alpha as an omega slave? Ulric is special and should be a leader with his own pack.”
He curled a smile. “You too are special and yet you are my slave.”
“Yes, master.” She cast him a wry smile. “You know as well as I do being your slave is a cover to keep me hidden from those who would exploit me. At least until I complete my medical apprenticeship. Yet someday, I must mate with an alpha. It is what blessed Feronia wants.”
He sighed and drank half a cup before smacking his mouth. “Finding the right alpha will be a delicate matter. Not a political marriage but one of love. Your feelings for him should make your mark grow warm and turn red. He must be your true life mate for the healer’s bloodline to continue. Not some pompous power hungry lycan like Macula and his alpha friends.” He delicately wiped his lips. “Yet he must be an alpha with a strong pack worthy of you. A pack that will protect you.”
“For now, I’m happy learning the fine art of medicine.” How could she tell him she had strong feelings for Ulric? She kept their meeting a secret from Gaius. Was she under the same spell all Roman women were for the attractive gladiator? Even now, just thinking of the foreign lycan made her mark burn. Should she tell Gaius of her wolf mark’s reaction? Despite his talk of love, Gaius would never allow such a mating. He had hopes of finding an influential lycan alpha for her. Not a downtrodden slave with no territory or pack. She must forget Ulric.
She added, “And see to it that justice serves all lycans. When Petronia comes to visit I will insist she help free Ulric.”
Gaius drank the rest of his wine and poured himself another cup. “The way you almost jumped into the arena to comfort Ulric while he grieved for his pack makes me wonder if like half the Roman women and many of the men you are not in love with him.”
She crossed her arms. “Was it not you who said Ulric has the body of Hercules?”
He gave her a roguish smile. “I must admit massaging those strained muscles had crossed my mind.”
“I’m sure he has his own masseuse.” Her cheeks warmed. And willing prostitutes.
Gaius narrowed his eyes. “He is handsome and oh so powerfully built.” He sighed, “Ah, what I wouldn’t give to be his mate.”
She furrowed her brow and changed the direction of the topic. “It was cruel for Macula to reenact how Ulric’s pack was decimated.” Gaius had learned about Macula’s wolf hunt spectacle from one of his betas, who had come in to have a loose tooth pulled. The beta had been with the Caninus pack during Ulric’s capture long ago.
His eyes darkened. “I agree. He must be freed.”
She remembered the anguish on Ulric’s face. She rubbed her arms as a chill ran through her. “If only he could run away.”
“Macula and his pack would hunt him.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Sure he would kill many, but he would end up slaughtered, and like us, he has a strong desire to live.”
“No, that’s not it.” She bit her lip before she revealed to Lucius that she had talked to Ulric before the games. How Macula kept his mother and threatened to kill her. An empty threat since if he killed a wolf maiden, Macula would be damned to return as a prey animal in the afterlife. Even so, he had the ears of Emperor Domitian. One false accusation and she was dead. Macula’s hands would be clean. The law damned him only if he spilled the blood of a wolf maiden himself.
Gaius raised a brow and then nodded. “That’s right. He knows what would happen to his fellow slaves.”
“Precisely.” She bit into the bread and swallowed. Roman law dictated that if any slave escaped, all household slaves were punished with death unless the escaped slave was found.
Gaius’ demeanor changed. “The real danger is the emperor who has appointed himself as moral censor of Rome. He has a special disdain for homosexuals.”
Senator Cato and Gaius were discreet lovers. She spat out her distain. “Domitian also hates Jews, Christians, and anyone he sees fit to send to the arena.” Each day her people were brought and slaughtered in the coliseum. Though a follower of Feronia, she still had fond memories of her Judean tribe. Of learning to swim with her parents in cool oasis pools, a precious time full of laughter. The desert night full of stars, stories around the campfires, and falling asleep i
n her mother’s arms.
“There is talk he will have senators that love men removed and executed.”
Cassia frowned. “Is Cato worried?”
Gaius sighed. “A bit, yet few know. He has a wife and a son after all.”
“But his wife lives in Ravenna and all know the child belongs to her first husband.” Her first husband had been an equestrian soldier killed in battle. Before joining the Senate, Cato married the widow he had known since childhood. She enjoyed his wealth and was happy he had adopted her son. Unlike most women, she had freedom to do as she pleased without a domineering husband breathing down her neck.
His brow furrowed in worry. “We are careful.”
She whispered as if spies were everywhere, “Cato openly criticized Domitian about the death of the Vestal Virgin. Everyone knows her death was to punish her father for disagreeing with the emperor.”
He scoffed. “As did half of Rome.”
Cassia shuddered. How horrible to be buried alive. Alone, in a dark subterranean chamber. She didn’t want to add to Gaius’s worries. If her secret or his got out before the Lupercal could do anything about it, Domitian would condemn them as two more enemies of Rome. She held his hand. “I need to tell you something, but please promise me you won’t worry.”
He smiled. His brown eyes warm. “Cassia, if it concerns you, I worry. You are like my daughter.”
She stared at the brazier. “While I walked back from the Forum Holitorium, I saw someone from the past.”
“From Aventicum?”
Naturally, he would think she meant their home in the north. She bit her lower lip. “No, from Caesarea.”
His brows shot up in surprise and then creased in worry. “What? You were only five years old. You’re mistaken.” He stood and paced before whirling around to face her. “Who?”
The last thing she wanted was for the orphan boy who had so many years ago taken care of her, killed to hide her identity. “Promise me he will not be harmed.”