Orion_An Ancient Roman Reverse Harem Romance

by Nhys Glover

  So this was it then? This was where we would die? Though I knew the Parthians would not want to kill me, I would not let them take me alive this time. Not when I knew Orion would be left dead in this alleyway.

  There was something dreamlike about the moment. Maybe I had dreamed of exactly this event. Somewhere in the back of my mind this had always been the ultimate outcome. This end for us. Not dashed against the cliffs but slaughtered in an alley.

  Orion was a brilliant fighter, but even he could not win against five Parthian warriors. Especially as he had no weapons but the dagger at his belt. I had one too, both parting gifts from Maleka, but I doubted I had the skill to wield mine well enough to make much difference. I would do my best, though. I would not go down without a fight. And if Orion fell. When he fell. I would use it on myself. Because I could not take another step without my lover.

  Orion pushed me behind him, before turning to face the five men entering the alley. Men I had come to know too well over the weeks I was their captive.

  There was the leader, of course, looking a little older and more tired than I remembered him. Next came the man who snored, followed closely by the one who always sniffed and hacked up mucous at every opportunity. Then came the one whose gaze had often strayed to me in barely disguised lechery. The youngest entered the alley last. He had an incessant itch in his groin that he scratched even when asleep. These were the only descriptors I had to differentiate them in my own mind because, physically, they looked very much alike.

  They spread out across the alley with the leader in the middle. Their movements were unhurried, even casual. It was an act. I could tell that from the slight shaking of arm muscles flexed tight and the way the younger ones shifted their gazes back and forth between their leader and Orion.

  “Ah, so here we are at last,” the leader said, extending his arms to encompass the shadowy alley. His tone was light and jovial. “You are the clever fellow who claimed our prize. You are good. Very good. I applaud you. Not many could have gotten her away from us and then keep her hidden for so long. But then, we did not know we were looking for a Northman when we scoured Palmyra. There had been no such man on the caravan. Or so we thought.”

  “Amazing how well a wig and false beard can work,” Orion answered just as casually.

  If I hadn’t known the truth, or seen the tension in muscles, I might have thought this was just a friendly meeting of acquaintances.

  “How did you catch up to us so fast? That has been the question on my mind ever since you took her. We moved faster than any vessel on the mare. Yet you had to have been ahead of us to be watching for her in Emisa. I am assuming that is where you saw her first.”

  “Praetorian Fleet. One of the emperor’s own ships. You made a mistake trying to take my master’s daughter. He has friends in the highest places of the empire.”

  The leader nodded, as if this news was not unexpected. “Ah, yes. Gladiators are what link poor men to rich, in your empire, are they not? Everyone wants to see a good gladiator fight. Are you a good gladiator? You are very young. Maybe you are still one of your master’s trainees? Maybe you have never been wetted in battle? Never killed? It is a daunting experience the first time. Not that you will have a first time.”

  The insults were designed to unnerve Orion, but I could tell they had no effect on him. He didn’t even try to deny them.

  The five had been moving slowly toward us as their leader spoke. Now there were no more than five strides separating them from us.

  This was it then. No more time for talk.

  Movement at the far end of the alley drew my gaze. I knew Orion would not be taking his eyes off the five men in front of him, but I could.

  My breath hitched, and my already pounding heart increased its pace.

  Gods, it couldn’t be!

  Down the alley strode three, belovedly familiar men, swords drawn, expressions tense.

  I felt Orion’s focus shift at my intake of breath.

  “The pack!” was all I said.

  In the next instant, chaos broke out in the confines of the shadowed alley. The Parthians must have sensed something going on behind them. Maybe my joy was written on my face. Maybe the sound of their footfalls could be heard. I do not know. But while the leader came forward to take on Orion, his men turned to deal with the rest of the pack.

  Knowing I would be more hindrance than help, I threw myself against the wall and made myself into the smallest target possible, my dagger ready to use on any bastard who tried to take me. All the while, I watched my Wolf Pack go into action.

  It was beautiful. Not just because the arrival of the other three meant we were safe, but because of the way they fought together. No showy performances this time, but still their moves were so in tune with each other’s that it looked like it was choreographed.

  Had they been any other three, I would have feared for them. But my pack fought day in and day out against some of the best fighters in the empire. They were blooded, and they were motivated.

  My attention switched back to Orion who was taking on the leader. The bastard carried a short sword while Orion only had his dagger. It put him at a disadvantage, because the reach of a sword was so much greater than a mere dagger.

  The sound of metal hitting metal reverberated harshly in the alley. It was not the sound of a training session, where every thrust or parry was orchestrated and timed. There was a rhythm to training sessions, a steady thump thump thump that reminded me of heartbeats. This was not that. This was manic. This was crazed. Clash, clash, thump, clash! Cries of pain. None of them from my men, I was grateful to realise. Clang, crash, scream!

  In the midst of the cacophony, I watched Orion intentionally let down his guard. It had to be a ploy to make the leader move in to strike.

  This was where the Parthian went wrong. He underestimated his opponent. He thought Orion was just any young fighter. After all, he was not even twenty years old. The Parthian might even think him younger. The older man considered himself superior because of his years of experience.

  So Orion took advantage of the man’s arrogance. He twisted to the side as the man lunged forward, grabbed the bastard’s wrist and broke his hold on the sword. The weapon clattered to the cobbled ground. His angry, muttered oath revealed he had realized his mistake. Too late.

  Orion followed through with a dagger to the side with the hand not gripping the Parthian’s wrist. The dagger sank deep, severing an artery. I could tell what had happened from the sudden fountain of blood spurting out of the wound when the dagger was removed. Our enemy’s life blood was soaking into Orion’s tunic and running down his muscular legs.

  The leader stood there for long moments, staring at Orion as if he could not believe what was happening. Then he gave one mighty bellow, turning fully to face his opponent. He threw himself at the young upstart who had dealt him a mortal blow, intent on throttling him with the last ounce of his strength.

  Orion stepped out of his way nimbly. The leader fell heavily, face forward onto the ground, blood still flowing from his side. Watching in dazed bemusement, I saw the life go out of my enemy’s eyes. I had feared and loathed this man every moment of the last two months, and now he was no more. It seemed impossible. Like a dream. A good dream but not quite real.

  Orion wasted no more time on him. He grabbed up the fallen weapon and went into the continuing fray with sword in one hand, dagger in the other.

  While the remaining three fighters focused on the rest of the pack, Orion came up behind them. Faster than my eyes could take it in, he slit the Parthians’ throats, one after the other. It was a raw, brutal act of great skill that saw Orion covered in even more arterial blood.

  As the Parthians realised what had happened, their hands went to their necks, all fight leaving them. Shock and fear turned their faces into horrifying masks. I was sure I would see those faces in my nightmares for the rest of my life.

  I had never seen men die like this. So... coldly, so... easily.

/>   Typhon turned to the fighter who had gone down first. It was the youngest one with the itch. My pack-mate checked to see if he still lived. He must have been breathing because Typhon drove his sword into the man’s chest in the next moment.

  I understood the reason for their brutality. I understood this was not some contest in the arena that would allow both winner and loser to walk away. This had always been a fight to the death. It was just so... one-sided. I almost felt sorry for the Parthians. My pack were coldly effective. The others did not even seem to mind that Orion had ended their opponents before they had a chance to take them down themselves. It was all about effectiveness, not fairness.

  Covered head to sandaled toe in blood, Orion returned to me. His blue eyes shone fiercely as they met mine. There was a ferocity there I had never seen before, a cold triumph that chilled me to the bone.

  Yet this man had moments before been prepared to face five opponents and die for me. I could not blame him for his elation.

  He offered me one bloody hand to help me up. I took it without hesitation. But he did not draw me in to his side. All too aware of the blood that soaked his tunic and covered his bare skin, Orion kept me at arm’s length. Even his blonde hair was dripping with it.

  “We have to get away from here,” he told me coldly.

  “Not like that you aren’t,” Asterius said, nodding at Orion’s state. “Legionaries are everywhere. If they see you looking like you took a bath in blood, there’ll be questions we haven’t got the time to answer.”

  My mind was too numb to consider the words, but I assumed they were fair, because Orion nodded.

  “Try to make these look less noticeable and I’ll be back in a second,” Asterius went on.

  He turned on his heel and ran up the alley to the noisy marketplace beyond.

  I stood like a statue, a very useless statue, as the men did as Asterius suggested. They’d barely got the men into a pile in the farthest, darkest corner when my young Greek god returned with fabric in one hand and a bucket of water in the other.

  Orion tore of his tunic and threw it aside. He dunked his hands into the bucket and then began sloshing the blood from his body. It was going to be a haphazard job, but there was no time for precision. At any moment people could come down the alley and find the dead men. We had to be gone from here. And we had to do it quickly.

  With the last of the water gone, Orion took the fabric Asterius held out to him, a new tunic, and tugged it over his head. It was tight fit and a little too fine for a slave of his station, but at least he no longer looked like he had bathed in blood.

  Orion stepped over the pools of spilled life and took my hand again—still wet, but at least free of blood—and hurried me up the alley. My heart was still beating too fast and my breaths still coming in short, frantic gasps. I had no idea what expression I wore on my face. The reality of what had happened was yet to hit me.

  “We have a room. We’ll go there. The faster we get off the street the better,” Talos said, eyeing me in concern as we hurried along the crowded street. “I think Accalia needs something to calm her down.”

  I am not sure how long it took us to reach the tavern where my men were staying. But eventually we did arrive and took the outside stairs to the second floor. All of us but Talos. He disappeared into the noisy taproom below, where the drinkers were already well under the weather, from the sound of it.

  Was it not too early for that state of inebriation? It was still mid-afternoon. Somehow it seemed like more time should have passed. It seemed that killing five men should have occupied more than a few minutes. Yet the sun had barely moved since Orion and I were wandering amongst the stalls.

  Maybe it had been a bad daydream. Maybe it had not happened at all. Yet I could still see the bloody drips falling from Orion’s blonde hair, staining the shoulders of his new tunic.

  Not a dream then. Real.

  Why was I making so much of this? It was not as if I had never seen death before. These same Parthians had dispatched Pater’s guards and driver right in front of me. Yet I had retained enough of my faculties then to heal Pater’s heart. Even when I was thrown onto the back of a horse and lived through a nightmarish ride to the coast, I was not like this.

  Maybe it was the fact that my pack were the ones doing the killing. Maybe I was feeling the horror of their first kills for them. I did not know.

  When we were closed into the small dark room, I sat unsteadily on one of the straw-stuffed pallets on the floor. I barely noticed the sound of skittering that told me vermin had taken up residence in the hay. I was just glad to be away from the noise and the death.

  Three sets of eyes studied me in concern. I tried to smile. I do not think I succeeded. Numbness had turned to the shakes. I was shivering so hard my teeth chattered.

  Orion picked up a moth-eaten blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders. It was too warm an afternoon to need a blanket, yet I was suddenly so cold.

  I knew what was happening. I was a healer, after all. And I had dealt with the aftermath of violence often enough. I knew that when the blood cooled after a traumatic event, a body was left weakened and exhausted. It was as if the need to fight or run took every ounce of a person’s energy and left them depleted afterwards. Ariaratus called it shock.

  I was in shock.

  Orion sat beside me to put an arm around my shoulders, giving me his strength and heat. I cuddled into his side like a child, the tears beginning to fall.

  It was stupid. We had won. I was free of the men who had been after me for weeks. Men who had kept me captive for weeks. I should be happy. Instead, I was crying, deep heart-wrenching sobs.

  Someone sat on the pallet on the other side of me, pressing his hard body against mine. Another warm, hard body pressed into my back. I had never experienced this with my pack before, this silent coming together, this physical closeness for no other reason than to lend me support.

  We stayed like that until the door opened and Talos came in. He blinked at the sight we must have made, but dropped to his knees in front of me. Holding out a wooden mug, he nodded at me to take it.

  The liquid burned like fire as soon as the first gulp went down. I coughed and tried to breathe in cool breaths to ease my mouth and throat.

  “Slowly. Drink slowly,” Talos advised, holding the mug until I recovered.

  A warmth had already started in my belly that seemed to be spreading outward.

  Wanting more of the relaxing warmth, I took the mug again and began sipping the fiery brew. This time I knew what to expect. If I got past the foul burn, I liked the way it felt in my belly. The way it made me feel. Pacified. Peaceful.

  My tears began to dry.

  “You better now?” Talos asked, his dark eyes filled with concern.

  I smiled mutely and nodded. I wasn’t sure I could trust my voice right then.

  “We have a lot to talk about. Are you up to that now?” Asterius asked from his position behind me. So it was Typhon who had sat on the other side of me from Orion.

  I nodded again. It was time to catch up.

  Chapter Twelve

  ORION

  The look on Accalia’s face as I returned to her, covered in blood, will remain with me forever. It was like I was a stranger, and she wasn’t sure if she should take my hand or run away. Yet there wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation before she took it.

  I knew my hand was bloody. But the sheer amount of it even gave me pause.

  Gods, I had never killed before. Never fought to the death before. And yet I had killed four men automatically. I hadn’t even thought about what I was doing. As soon as I knew my brothers had entered the fray, I just stopped thinking.

  The surest way to end a man is to sever an artery. We had been taught that in the ludus, but had also been cautioned not to try for such a cut in an ordinary contest where death was not the ultimate goal. So we knew how those moves were done, had practised them until they were automatic, but we had never had cause to use them.
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br />   But I had used them all too well today, on one man after the other. Unfairly. If it had been a contest, I would have been booed by the crowd for my act of cowardice. But my task was not to be fair. My task was to end the battle as fast as possible. Because Accalia was in danger and we couldn’t afford to attract attention. So I had done what I was trained to do, quickly dispassionately, almost matter-of-factly.

  Now I sat with my little she-wolf pressed against my side—my still bloodstained side, as I hadn’t been able to wash away all the blood—and tried to calm down.

  Why did I need to calm down when I had been so calm during the fight? I didn’t know for sure. All I knew was that my heart was beating so hard I thought it would crack a rib. And my limbs shook with tremors that had nothing to do with feeling cold. If it wouldn’t have shamed me in front of my pack, I might have joined Accalia in her tears.

  But as Accalia cried out her shock and horror, I was able to let go of mine as well.

  I had killed today for the first time. I had killed four men and gloried in their deaths. These were my enemies. These were men who had stolen my beloved woman and might have taken her life. Their hot blood spilling onto me was like rain after a drought. My skin seemed to soak it in. Never had I felt such a primitive sense of rightness to my violence.

  Yet there had been another part of me that had remained distant from the experience, watching it from afar, bemused by my reactions. Maybe it was even a little horrified by them, as Accalia had been.

  Now I was trying to get the parts of me back together. And Accalia’s tears had helped me do it. Just as her small body pressing against mine succeeded in grounding me.

  “We thought you were dead,” Asterius said, after the silence had gone on long enough.

  “Felt like it at times,” I replied, grimacing and rubbing at my still wet and sticky hair. The coppery smell of blood was in my nostrils, its taste on my tongue. “Luckily, the barrel that broke free hit me at the same time as I hit the water, and I clung onto it. I wasn’t sure what happened to the galley. When the storm blew itself out there was no sign of it, or anything else. I eventually washed up on the Syrian coast half way between Seleukeia Pieria and Tyrus. There was a pass between the mountains there that led straight to Emisa. That’s where I spotted Accalia. Where did you end up?”