Secrets of New Pompeii

by Aubrey Ross

  His expression turned thoughtful as he looked at her—or rather looked around her. As he’d described it in the past, soul strands radiated out from inside a person like a multicolored nimbus. “Sometimes tangles can be manipulated by an outside force. Your snarls are too old, too compounded.”

  She shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. “Figures.”

  “However, I can guide you through an exercise that will allow you to untangle the strands yourself. It will give you greater concentration and focus for the tasks ahead.”

  A reluctant smile curved her lips. “How do you know what task lies ahead for me?”

  He hadn’t resumed his massage and his voice took on a different rhythm, more confident, more filled with import. “I see danger and a period of great darkness, but beyond the trials is the potential for far-reaching change.”

  He’d perfectly described her agenda for the following night. Infiltrating the festival was definitely dangerous, and she suspected she would be horrified by many of the things she witnessed there. Still, if she were able to gather enough evidence, she would be able to motivate her father to make meaningful changes in New Pompeii.

  “I think you listen at keyholes.” She tried to lighten the mood and ease the tension gathering between her shoulder blades. “There is nothing mystical about your abilities.”

  “Who is the fierce-looking man with pale blue eyes? He is woven through each of your tangles.”

  She scrambled for a nonchalant reply. He couldn’t know about Max. She’d mentioned the affair to Elaina, but she hadn’t described him. And Bertrom had never been to New Pompeii. “What do you mean he’s woven through my tangles?”

  He helped her down from the table and held out her satin robe. She slipped it on and secured the belt before he answered her question. “Viewing soul strands offers me information about a person’s past and present. Occasionally I receive impressions of what is likely to come. When I access the strands, allow them to flow through me, the information is much more specific. I not only see images, I experience emotions. This man has had a profound impact on your life.”

  “That’s nonsense.” She crossed her arms. Denial had kept the ghost more or less at bay for the past six years. Why should she change her strategy now? “He was a youthful indiscretion that ended badly. I haven’t seen or spoken with him in years.”

  “How often is he in your thoughts?”

  Max seldom left her thoughts. She swallowed hard and moved to the small, round table on the far side of the private spa. The facility was reserved for residents of the palace and their guests, so she frequently had the place to herself. Massages, mud baths and pedicures didn’t hold much appeal to the male members of the royal family.

  “You mentioned an exercise that would untie some of these knots.” She poured herself a tall glass of whatever fruit concoction Bertrom had dreamed up that morning then slipped into one of the chairs.

  “To untangle the strands you must return to the events that caused them. Emotions may surface that you’re not ready to face.” He joined her at the table, his strange lavender gaze intent on her face.

  “Then why should I bother? I can’t change the past, so why dredge it all up again?”

  “I know you are about to undertake something both important and dangerous. Your mind needs to be clear and your emotions balanced for you to accomplish what you’re setting out to do.”

  She raised her glance and stalled by taking several slow sips. The bright orange color was less than appealing, but the taste was refreshing and slightly sweet. “Your concern infers that my mind is not clear nor my emotions balanced. I think you’re underestimating me.”

  “He will be there tomorrow night. This man from your past is about to reenter your life.”

  His casual statement impacted her like a kick to the chest. She felt shocked and angry and bruised. “How can you possibly know these things?”

  “You know the answer to that. Fedoran scientists have always been fascinated with the true potential of the human mind. Morality standards prevented them from experimenting on their own people, so they took advantage of the seeding programs.”

  “You are certain Max will be at the festival?”

  “I am.”

  She set down the glass and sighed. “Then guide me through this exercise. I’m far from ready to see him again.”

  Chapter Two

  Bertrom’s hands were warm and firm as they closed around Naloni’s. She stared into his lavender eyes, unable to hide her anxiety. It had taken years to drive thoughts of Max from her mind and banish his image from her dreams. Not that she’d actually ever succeeded.

  “Close your eyes,” Bertrom instructed. “Don’t resist the past’s pull. Allow your mind to flow where it will.”

  His hands squeezed hers with gentle reassurance as she obeyed. The spa was quiet. Jasmine and setrine flowers lightly scented the air. With predictable accuracy her mind returned to the center of the conflict, to the place where it all began.

  “Tell me what you’re seeing. You’ve not yet allowed me deep enough to share your memories.” She started to pull back, to abandon the strange exercise, but Bertrom pressed her hands between his palms and pushed tingling warmth up her arms. “Don’t retreat. I can sense your emotions. They are raw and convoluted. You are so angry and yet so hurt. How were these feelings unleashed?”

  Relaxing into the metaphysical flow, she drifted through events, connected to yet separate from them. She sighed and relaxed for a moment, letting her mind sink deeper into yesteryear. “Life at court was so filled with conflict and intrigue that I kept to myself as much as possible. The year Mother died, Father was inconsolable. Vito and Tarhee set off on their yearly tour of the colonies, and I convinced Vito to let me go with them.”

  “All three of you left your father alone to deal with his grief?”

  The disapproval in Bertrom’s voice annoyed her, made her feel defensive and unkind. “He refused to see anyone except his chancellor. Trust me. We tried everything to bring him out of his…darkness. We hoped that he would have recovered enough to let us share his pain by the time we returned.”

  Though Bertrom was clearly distressed by their choice, he made no further comment on the subject. “Close your eyes again. Try to show me the events as opposed to telling me about them.”

  She lowered her lids and shut out her surroundings, focusing on the memories.

  Her ears hummed then buzzed, and then the sound of a massive crowd erupted, drawing her deeper, immersing her completely in the vision. She sat between her brothers, torn between excitement and disgust. All around her people cheered, their expressions twisted with bloodlust and cruelty. Below, on the arena floor, a group of gladiators fought for their lives. Not pitted against other men, but facing off with massive golden cats. Tarhee had called them lions.

  She had thought the animals beautiful yet tragic, desperate for survival. Just like the gladiators.

  One of the lions leapt in a graceful arch, its target clearly a gladiator whose back was turned. Seeing the animal’s destination, one of the other gladiators lunged, going to one knee as he drove his blade upward into the unsuspecting beast. The lion roared, its belly split by its own momentum, dousing the gladiator in crimson gore.

  Horrified by the brutality, Naloni spun into Vito’s waiting arms. He pressed her face against his throat and gently patted her back. “Too much, little one?”

  “I want to leave. Can we please leave?” her voice was muffled against his chest.

  “I want to see the primus,” Tarhee insisted. “Take her back to the ship if you must, but Mikko and I are staying.”

  The primus? The main event—highlight of the day’s events. How could anything be more wretchedly sensational than what she’d just seen?

  “Just keep your eyes closed,” Vito suggested, pulling her closer against his side. “Can you do that for me?”

  The images rolled, undulating as her mind shifted to the next significan
t happening. The crowd’s repeated bursts of enthusiasm piqued her curiosity. She peeked through her fingers then slowly raised her head.

  This fight was different, the combatants more evenly matched. The one with the feathered helmet seemed to be more aggressive, but the one with a sword and a knife was more skilled. One drove his opponent backward nearly the width of the arena before the other rallied and launched his own advance. Their muscles bunched and flexed as their swords swung and clashed. And in that moment, she understood their secret. These men did not fear death.

  What sort of bleak existence would make death the preferable option? Her dismal thought was interrupted by her brother’s hushed words.

  “Can you imagine how our people would respond to this?” Tarhee muttered, obviously absorbed in the savage exhibition.

  “Father would never allow it,” Vito was quick to point out.

  “What if we presented it like a sim?” Mikko suggested, his eyes gleaming with greed. “If people only had access to vids of the bouts, it would be no different than any other entertainment stream.”

  “Are you suggesting we broadcast real fights, or create simulations of what we’re witnessing now?” Vito wanted to know.

  Naloni’s gaze gravitated back to the battle. She was horrified and repulsed, and still she couldn’t look away. It was barbaric and cruel yet…graceful. Like a savage dance.

  The vision sped again, sweeping her closer to the emotional tangles, the events she loved and hated, and the man she couldn’t forget.

  She stood behind a wooden screen with the wife of the gladiators’ master. Her brothers and Mikko were negotiating with her husband, but she promised Naloni something far more interesting than business.

  “Are they not glorious?” the matron whispered.

  Glorious? Naloni pressed her hand over her heart, afraid her hostess would hear the frantic beating. Beyond the screen was a room tiled in bright colors and geometric patterns. In the center of the room was a bathing pool currently in use by eight gladiators. After scrubbing dirt and blood from their magnificent bodies, they waded into the steaming water. They spoke in low tones, uninhibited by their nudity.

  “Shall I send one to your bed chamber tonight? Several are especially skilled.”

  Naloni tried not to react to the offer. How did she know they were skilled? Had she watched them perform with her guests, or had she sampled them personally? “My brothers would never allow it.”

  The matron laughed, and the gladiators looked toward the screen, several shifting into positions that better displayed their physiques. “Your brothers need never know. Do you think my husband allows me to dally with his gladiators?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but…” Her words trailed away as a straggler entered the chamber. His build was leaner than the others, with tight corded muscles. Short dark hair and a swarthy completion provided dramatic contrast for his ice blue eyes. Her gaze reversed course, enjoying his broad chest and tapered torso before focusing on his cock. Even flaccid it was thick and impressive, triggering an ache deep in Naloni’s core.

  “Ah, you’ve spotted Max. He won the primus today. Did you see him in action?”

  The images blurred and Naloni felt the vision’s pull again. She struggled against it. The next time she saw Max was their first night together. She needed no mystic to reveal the details of those bittersweet hours. Every touch, every sensation was still clear within her memory.

  “You’re fighting me again.” Bertrom sighed. “This will never work if you resist my guidance.”

  “I don’t want to relive that night.”

  “Why are you afraid? Was it unpleasant?”

  “No.” She rested her forearms on the tabletop and bowed her head. “Just the opposite.”

  “Show me.”

  His tone took on a commanding edge that increased the mystic pull. Naloni released her hold on the present and surrendered to the past.

  They were back on Fedoros. After weeks of continual pressure from his sons, the emperor had agreed to a four-week trial of Gladiator Games. Max had signed on to the project as doctore, a trainer. Unlike the other gladiators, Max had earned his freedom in Rome, so his circumstances were unique.

  Though her father had abandoned his self-imposed seclusion, he was still irritable and argumentative. One evening, he summoned her and announced that he had decided who she would marry. She had expected the announcement since her eighteenth birthday a year and a half before. Still, nothing prepared her for her father’s choice in grooms. The man she was to marry was older than her father and already had four sons. Her tearful pleading fell on deaf ears and her hurt quickly turned to anger.

  She had always been an obedient daughter, bowing to her father’s wishes regardless of her own feelings. So she decided to foil his plan in the most outrageous way possible. She would give herself to a man completely unacceptable to the superior aristocracy.

  Using her own royal seal, she composed a note and signed Tarhee’s name. The note explained that Max was being rewarded for his exemplary service. He was to be left alone with his female visitor and all surveillance was to be turned off until the woman departed. She ended the note by stressing that Vito was opposed to the reward, so Tarhee was counting on their discretion.

  She changed into a thin satin slip that barely reached her knees then cocooned herself in a utilitarian cloak with a deep hood. She’d claimed a headache during the evening meal and retired for the night, so her guards were engrossed in a highly competitive game of cards.

  Sneaking out of her bedchamber had been easy. Her guards were always relaxed when they were inside the palace defenses. Leaving the palace itself had been more complicated, but Naloni knew of a weakness in the security grid.

  Once she reached the gladiator compound, the perimeter guard had taken her to his commander. The commander read the note twice then inspected the seal. Her seal was slightly smaller than her brother’s, but without having the two side by side, it was almost impossible to tell the difference. Finally, the commander decided “discretion” prevented him from further verification, so he unlocked Max’s cell.

  Naloni hadn’t trusted the guards to follow her instructions, so she had a signal jammer in the pocket of her cloak. She activated the small device before she spoke or lowered the hood. Max sat on his cot, one of the few pieces of furniture in the dreary room. He watched her with obvious curiosity but didn’t question her presence.

  She took off the cloak and hung it on a peg by the door. Max stood beside the cot by the time she turned around. “I am for you,” she said simply. She’d undergone a Latin infusion before accompanying her brothers to Italy, but she had spoken very little during their journey and that had been seven months ago.

  Max approached her slowly, his pale blue gaze piercing yet cautious. “Who are you?”

  He was isolated from the rest of Fedoros, but there was a slim possibility he would recognize her name. “Vanda.” She used one of her middle names.

  “Who sent you to me? Do you know why you were sent?”

  “Prince Tarhee is pleased with you, and he thought you would enjoy… Do you not want me?”

  “By the gods, you are stunning, but I will not bed you unless you are willing. Are you here of your own free will?”

  She nodded as tension gathered in her stomach. Could she really give herself to a stranger just to spite her father? The image of her would-be husband appeared in the back of her mind, driving away her uncertainty. If she would be forced to spend her life with a man of her father’s choosing, her first sexual experience would be with a man she chose!

  “I want this,” she lowered her gaze as she added, “but my experience is limited.”

  His warm hand touched her upper arm, his thumb gently rubbing. “How long will you be allowed to stay?”

  “As long as I like.”

  “Then we will take our time—linger at each step until you are ready for the next.”

  His words thrilled her and soothed her.
She hadn’t expected gentleness from such a brutal man.

  Taking her by the hand, he led her toward his cot. There wasn’t far to go, the room was tiny. They faced each other, awareness pulsing between them. He traced her collarbone with his fingertips while his gaze caressed her face.

  “Are you from this place, or were you brought here in a skyship?” He sounded distracted and seemed more interested in the texture of her skin than her answer.

  “I am from here.”

  Naloni felt the vision begin to shift and fought the transition. Now that the event was before her, she longed for the feeling of Max’s mouth on hers and the fullness of his cock deep inside her. “Please,” she whispered to Bertrom, “just a little longer.”

  “Trust me.”

  She relaxed her mind and the scene refocused as opposed to progressing to the next event. She saw Max from her current perspective, without the emotions that had monopolized her attention on that night. His features reflected a greater conflict than she remembered. He had seemed so controlled, so sure of himself and what they were doing.

  “Tell me what you see,” Bertrom prompted.

  “He was as terrified as I was. Why is he afraid?”

  “These are your memories. I can’t sense his emotions. We can only speculate. Why do you think he would have been afraid?”

  “He’d left his world and everyone he’d ever known and come to this strange planet. He was at the mercy of the founders. Perhaps he was afraid I was a trap or some sort of test.”

  “Better, but dig deeper. What else can you perceive?”

  “Loneliness. There is such sadness in his eyes.”

  “Perhaps he feared a few hours of pleasure would make the empty days that much harder to bear.”

  The scene resumed from the new perspective. Naloni watched as he bent and pressed his lips to hers. The first kiss was slow and tentative, a simple brushing of lips against lips. She felt the slight pressure and the cascade of heat, yet she was an observer too. It was all very confusing and undeniably stimulating.