by Tula Neal
"As you say, I am a slave.” He laced his fingers through hers. “But I was not born so and I do not believe any man should call another his except through a debt of honor. Brutus is a good man, but I owe him no such debt."
"Spartacus will fail. How can he succeed against Rome's legions? They have mastered the world. They will cut Spartacus down like a scythe slicing through wheatgrass.” But she wasn't altogether convinced. Gladiators lived and died by their fighting skills.
"It's not whether he succeeds or fails. It's the fight that counts.” His voice roughened and his eyes turned inward. “By fighting, he tells the Romans that he is a man, and worthy."
"Before another night comes, he will be in prison awaiting execution,” Collina said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
"Execution awaits most gladiators. Whatever his end, it will have honor because of what he has dared tonight."
Collina chewed this over in silence. “Not all gladiators die in the arena. You've said so yourself. Remember the prophetess. I believe her. You could earn your freedom through your purse or through your bravery."
"So you want me to stay?"
"I want you to live, Scipio. That's what I want—to see your smile in the morning when I wake up, to feel your arms around me."
"And my cock in you?"
Collina grinned.
"Yes, that too. What of it?"
"It's a slave's cock. The cock of a man who doesn't even own himself."
Collina's chest tightened.
"Is it so bad then, being a slave? You have a home, food to eat, a woman who loves you."
He raised his hand to stroke her cheek.
"It is a shameful thing when a man cannot govern himself. What kind of life can I offer you?"
"In a year or two you can buy your freedom,” she argued. “See how well you fought today? You're a natural. You'll be a great gladiator. I know you will."
"But a slave nonetheless..."
Collina looked into his eyes and saw the deep sorrow she'd only glimpsed before, dark and melting in the lamplight.
"Spartacus may lose, Collina. I know that. But what can I say to my children if I do not pick up arms and fight with him for my own dignity and pride?"
"What children will you have if a legionnaire kills you?"
He remained silent but she saw the answer on his face. His freedom was the most important thing to him. Nothing else mattered as much. She should have known it, but she hadn't even guessed.
"Go then,” she said, bitterly, drawing her legs up under her. “Follow your Spartacus.” She turned her back on him and faced the wall.
He must have stood at the foot of her bed for a few seconds because she didn't hear him move. Then the door closed after him. Collina spun around on the bed, unable to believe he had really gone. The room was empty. Tears stung her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She flung herself back on the bed and covered her face with her pillow. He was gone. She hadn't been able to hold on to him. A storm of sobs shook her and then she leapt out of bed and pulled on her clothes. She would go with him, then. Someone would have to protect him and make sure he didn't get into too much trouble. Who better for the job than her and if, despite her best effort, he did get into trouble or get himself injured, she could see to his wounds. She flung open the door and met him standing before her, his hand raised, as if he'd been about to push it open himself.
"I'm coming,” she cried before he could say anything. “You can't stop me. I'm coming with you."
"That's wonderful news,” he enfolded her in his arms. “But I'm not going anywhere."
"No. You can't stop ... what did you say?"
"I'm not going. There is honor in Spartacus's struggle, but there is honor here for me, too, in a life with you."
"Do you ... are you sure?"
"If I go, I throw away my life with you. The life I could have."
"But I could come with you,” she said, more out of a sense of obligation and loyalty than anything else.
"An army at war is no place for a woman,” he answered, “and a barren ground for love."
The sorrow in his eyes was gone. He had made up his mind. She could see his resolve on his face. He would stay with her and never regret it. She hugged and kissed him, drawing him back inside her room.
Their lovemaking later was raw, urgent, as if Spartacus's rebellion had lit some desperate spark within them. Afterwards, when Scipio had fallen asleep, Collina laid awake, looking at his naked body and thinking hard. She did not know what the future would bring, but if it were him in her bed every night, his feelings for her shining from his eyes, then she would count herself lucky. She would ask for only one thing more—that even if Scipio did not win his freedom in the arena, he would at least stay alive long enough for her to earn the money to purchase his release. This plan was like a secret kernel of gold she treasured in her heart, something to look forward to in the uncertain days ahead for Rome and all its people, slave and free alike.
About the Author
Tula writes: “A sweet, innocent, Caribbean girl grows up to write sizzling hot erotica and erotic romance. Whether my story is set in ancient times or in an exotic locale you can believe it will be a hot and sensual read!"
Visit Tula online at tulaneal.blogspot.com
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