We were allowed nothing in the ludus beyond wooden swords and shields.
“Lilia!” The voice of my dominus was closer now—right outside the door to my quarters, it seemed. “Open.” Though I had been a slave for many years, and though I had respect for my dominus, it still grated to have to follow orders whenever they were issued.
I relaxed when I realized who it was, though not completely. It was not Bavarius or his men. Still, whatever brought the dominus to my chambers so late at night, I knew it would not be something that I would like.
“Yes, Dominus.” I might have been his favorite—a pet, of sorts—but I harbored no delusions about what would happen to me should I refuse. And I enjoyed the benefits that came with being in the favor of my master, benefits that kept me safe when I may not otherwise have been.
Pressing my suddenly clammy palm against the door, I felt the coarse grain of the wood scratching my skin. Inhaling deeply, I pressed, and the unlatched wood opened under the pressure.
Night was falling, the sky the color of the sea. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, before being able to make out the figures that stood in front of me.
My dominus stood in front of the group, his face betraying a hint of impatience. To his one side was one of the female slaves from the house above. Her slight frame sagged under the weight of a bedroll, one nearly identical to my own.
I wanted to stride toward her, to relieve her of the burden. My dominus would not have cared if I had, but I hesitated, for something in the air surrounding the small group seemed off.
My dominus stepped aside, and I saw what I had been sensing.
Christus, my would-be savior from earlier in the day, stood on the sand of our training area, his frame colored by the silver of the moonlight. His subligaculum was unfamiliar—a different color, a different material than we used in the house of Philipus Septus Octavius. His hair was as dark as I remembered, and his eyes shone an intense blue, even in the berry-hued twilight.
Those eyes met mine steadily, and I felt my heart lurch in response. Though I did not want to feel this way, I found my entire being become focused on the man who stood in front of me. I was not stupid—I recognized my visceral response for what it was, an attraction the likes of which I had not ever thought possible.
Much as I wanted him, however, it did not change what he had done to me earlier in the day. As he continued to stare at me steadily, I narrowed my own eyes in response. I wanted to see an apology in the depths of his perusal, but I did not.
“This is Christus, formerly of the house of Lucius Quintus Manius.” My dominus spoke of Lucius, the owner of a rival ludus. The man had fallen on ill times of late, since the untimely death of his wife, Alba, and had begun to sell the warriors in his stable, a single man at a time.
It looked as though my dominus had purchased one.
The dominus seemed to be waiting for my reply, so I nodded slowly, to show that I had heard. I did not speak—I did not know what to say. If that day had been any indication, Christus’ presence in this ludus would mean nothing but trouble for me.
My attraction toward him could not be anything good either. While a single fuck with a gladiator of my choice was not of import in the ludus, anything more would invite trouble.
Something about this quiet, solitary warrior told me that with him there would be no quick, solitary fuck—with him there would be complications. Also, my throat had gone somewhat dry at the sight of all that skin, glistening in the moonlight. The man was infuriating, but he was also the single most attractive creature that I had ever set eyes on.
I spent my days in the company of men who had not even a pinch of fat on them, their hard bodies wrought from incessant physical activity and the special diet concocted by the house’s dietician. None of those bodies, in all their half-naked glory, compared to Christus’.
His every muscle had been sharply honed, pressing against the expanse of his golden skin. He was taller than the average, a large man all around, one who made me feel almost delicate.
Though I was small in stature, I never felt fragile, as I did in Christus’ presence.
The incredible hardness of his body would have been enough to attract many Roman women—in fact, I was certain that it did. But combined with the devastatingly handsome face—the sharp features, the long-lashed eyes, the full lips—and a woman did not have a prayer of staying removed.
I was no exception, though I would never admit that, not to anyone.
“Christus comes to us as the top-ranked gladiator from his house.” The words stirred something deep in my memory. The house of Manius—wasn’t their champion named Marcus? Or perhaps Caius? Not that I had met either man in the arena of late.
I shrugged irritably, not certain why I cared. It mattered not to me what position Christus had held in his former house, so long as he left me alone here.
I hoped, prayed that he would indeed do so. In my innermost self, I knew that was because I did not trust myself to do the same.
“He comes to us as highly ranked as you, Lilia. Until proven otherwise, he is due the same privileges that you receive.” At this my dominus narrowed his eyes at me, as if daring me to argue. I tilted my head to one side, feeling as though I was missing something.
Though it rankled to have someone ranked as highly as myself, it would take but time for me to best him, so I cared not what privileges were extended to him.
So long as they did not interfere with my own.
“You will share your quarters with the man.”
My mouth fell open, just a bit, as an onslaught of emotion ran through me like heavy rain.
I could not be so near to the man, not when he affected me so.
I could handle myself, but old feelings were still there. My dominus did not know this—I had never told him of the abuse that I had suffered, had not wanted him to see me as weak.
Tremors began to shake my limbs even as I opened my mouth to protest.
“Is that proper, Dominus?” I knew even as I spoke that I had no valid argument. I was a slave, and I would do as I was told, even if the idea of being at the mercy of a man while I slept sickened me to my core.
My master’s face reddened, and I knew that, favored pet or not, I had gone too far. He took a step toward me, his fist clenching tightly. I did not think that he would actually strike me, but in that moment I saw that I had angered him enough to want to.
“You live among men, bathe among them, sleep among them. As far as I am concerned, Lilia, you are one.” With a rough sweep of his arm, the man gestured to Ceres to take the bedroll into my quarters. His words hurt, but overshadowing that was a sensation of panic.
I would not be able to sleep with a man in the same room as myself—would not be able to make myself vulnerable. If I could not obtain enough rest, I would not perform well in the arena, and could lose my standing. Losing my standing meant that I would be moved back out to the general quarters, where every night and day would again become a struggle to keep violent hands off of my breasts and eager cocks from between my legs.
My life would become a nightmare. I would rather die.
None of this could be said to my dominus, not without a public punishment, one that would reinforce the weakness that Christus had cast over me today. So I bit my lip, hard enough to draw blood, and forced what I hoped passed for a smile to my lips.
“Apologies, Dominus.” Bowing my head, I focused a glare on Christus’ feet, which were inches away and clad in leather wraps, as mine were during the day. Memories of his kindly meant actions from earlier in the day flew from my mind as I felt the muscles in my body tense in preparation for an attack.
Attracted to him as I was, if he tried anything without my consent—and I vowed that I would not give it—I would cut off his cock at its root.
I remained as I was, staring at the floor, body tense until the entire party but for Christus had left, not moving even when my dominus pinched my chin in his fingers and bade me to b
e hospitable.
I saw Christus’ feet move toward me, then hesitate. Still refusing to look up, I fled to the depths of my quarters, not realizing until I was curled up on my bed that it was no longer a safe place—in fact, I had trapped myself.
Fisting my hands in my coarse sheet, I finally lifted my head, shaking the long ropes of my sun-bleached hair from my face. Christus walked into the room slowly, and his handsome face merged with those of a dozen others in my mind’s eye. The brave, strong Lilia who had risen from the ashes of the woman tormented by those faces crumbled, and I could not help but whimper, pressing my back flat against the cool stone wall.
This was supposed to be my safe place, where I could be the woman that I actually was, not the gladiator who had to fight her way through every day, proving herself worthy of standing among men.
Now that there was a man in this space, in my safe haven, the terror of years ago reached out and wrapped its tentacles tightly around my innermost self once again.
“I must apologize for my actions this day.” Warm golden light from the candle that I had lit for my kills danced over the strong features of Christus’ face as he stepped toward me. I held out a hand and tried to force some sort of strength into my voice.
“Stay away. Stay over there.” I hated the fear that made my words tremble. I could best Bavarius if I needed to. Christus, however, was an unknown entity, a large man with a rank equal to my own.
I hated to even think it, but I suspected that if he wanted to force me beneath him, he could.
Christus halted in place as I had requested, which abated my fear only the smallest bit. I swallowed hard, trying to force it down, to think rationally. I was not new to the ludus anymore, was not weak in the body or the mind. I was a warrior.
“Why are you frightened?” That he saw my emotion infuriated me, and I was glad of it, for it added some steel to my spine. I sat up straight, moved to the edge of my bedroll, and planted my feet.
“Who says that I am?” My words were hollow in the small room, and we both knew it.
I did not know what to make of the concern that played over the man’s features, or the anger that quickly followed.
“Do you know who I am?” My throat was dry, and I had trouble forcing the words out.
Christus looked me over as if seeing me for the first time, and his stare was inexplicably tender, waking things inside of me that I did not want awakened.
“I do.” He seemed to be such a serious man. What had made him that way?
It did not matter. I should not care.
“You are Lilia, the most ferocious woman in all of Rome.”
I should have felt pride at his words, but was too caught up in the intensity of the moment. How was it possible to feel so much, all at the same time?
“I am not just the most ferocious woman. I am the most vicious gladiator, woman or man.” My voice shook with the effort of not succumbing to the man’s obvious concern.
I could not trust it. I could not trust any man save Darius, and my friend had earned such trust only because I knew he had no interest in thrusting his cock between my thighs.
“You are the only female gladiator.” Was that wonder that I heard? Why was the man looking at me warily, as if I both fascinated and confused him? “You are special.”
“Do you fear me?” I meant to try to intimidate him. Being loud, brash, and bold had served me well with other gladiators. Nothing in the way that Christus stood, watching me, told me that he was afraid. If anything, he seemed . . . protective, was all that I could think. As if he wanted to wrap me in his arms and save me from the world’s hurts.
The man shook his head, and I thought that the ghost of a smile whispered around his lips. Thinking that he mocked me, that he jested over my strength, I tensed, preparing to attack.
“Who has hurt you?” The incline of his torso told me that he wanted to step forward, to touch, to soothe, and that he held himself back as I had commanded.
That was all well and good, but I knew that men changed in the dark.
“I am not hurt, Christus of house Manius.” I forced myself to my feet, willing my body into a combative pose. Perhaps if he feared me, he would leave me alone.
I did not care for the way his eyes swept over me. They were not lecherous like those of so many others, but rather saw too much of the truth, leaving me raw and open. And though I didn’t like being seen as I truly was, it also awakened something in me, something that moved hand in hand with arousal, a temptation to drop all pretenses and sink into this man’s strength and warmth.
“Apologies, my lady.” With a stiff nod, Christus stepped back, a deliberate acknowledgment of my request. “I meant no insult.”
“I am not a lady.” I all but hissed the words, fussing because the way that they had come from his lips, like warm wine, appealed to me. “I—”
A crash from down the hall stopped my words in midsentence. Again tense, I cocked my ear to listen and heard the unmistakable sound of Bavarius’ voice, drunk and growing ever louder.
My eyes were fixed on the wooden door at the far side of the room. It was shut, so perhaps in his drunken state, if he couldn’t see me, he would leave me alone.
But then again, the closed door might simply be a challenge to the brute.
Before I could decide what to do, Christus was at the simple plank of wood, pulling it open wide. I scrambled from the bed, shouting my protest.
“Get out of my way.” Swallowing my fear, I channeled the Lilia who faced down giants in the arena. I grabbed my prayer candle, clutching it tightly in suddenly sweaty fingers.
If either man laid a single finger on me, I would incinerate him.
“Get back.” With one strong arm, Christus blocked my way to the door. Growling with frustration, I crouched and prepared to shove him out of the way so that I could meet Bavarius’ attack head on.
“Where are you, whore?” The drunken howl could belong to only one man—a man who might have left me alone had Christus not opened that damned door, all but inviting him in.
The bull of a man came charging, his drunkenness making his approach ring off the stone walls. I tensed, ready to fling hot wax and flame into his face.
Bavarius never reached me.
With the sickening sound of bone meeting flesh, Christus ploughed a tight fist into the other man’s eye, followed quickly by one to his jaw, and another to his gut. Bavarius doubled over, screaming his pain, though I knew he had suffered much worse in the arena.
“Though I do not expect an apology from the likes of you,” Christus said, standing tall, proud, a god with a peasant at his feet, “you will not call Lilia such names again. You will not darken her door. You will leave her alone. Even if she were not a woman, she outranks you in this brotherhood, and you owe her that.”
With heat shooting from those blue eyes, stars streaming through the night sky, Christus backed away from the man, closing the door in Bavarius’ face.
I was stunned silent by the sight, frozen in the middle of the room, the candle in my hand.
“He will come back.” Afraid of dropping the candle, I moved to place it on the small table that crowded the room. “He always comes back.” I cursed myself the moment the words had left my mouth.
What if this stranger repeated them to Bavarius? The beast would then know that I still feared him, and would use it to his advantage.
“He can try to come back. He will not succeed.” I watched Christus’ actions, fascinated. Tearing a strip off his subligaculum, he fashioned some sort of knot over the latch of the door, testing it with long, strong fingers.
He glanced at me once as he moved across the room to the door from which he had entered, treating it in the same manner. We both heard the drunken curses of Bavarius, making his way back down the hall, away from these quarters.
Christus’ lashes were black and hid what he was truly thinking, but I knew.
He understood my uneasiness, understood where it came from. And he
cared enough, was kind enough, to make moves toward putting me at ease.
“What if it does not hold?” There was no point in playing dumb, in pretending that he had not worked out my situation.
This time he looked right at me, and I saw frustration and anger in those deep blue eyes. I somehow sensed that the anger wasn’t at me.
“My father was a fisherman. I have tied knots since I could hold the string. It will hold.” With those words he moved to his bedroll, stretching out on the thin mattress with a sigh.
I tried not to notice the tension that seemed to drain from his own body as our breaths mingled in the close air of the room. I felt poorly for focusing so strongly on my own fears and not realizing that, as a new man in the ludus, he was at risk as well.
“The rest are likely too far in their cups to make nuisance of themselves tonight. And none will make a move without Bavarius leading them on.” I spoke after a long moment, a moment in which my tension began, at last, to drain from my limbs. I would have had such a reaction to any man in my intimate space, and I still did not care for it, but I felt that I was at least safe for this night.
Safer than I had been before Christus, with his new locks on the doors.
“Hmm.” I saw that his eyes were open, watching me as I pulled my own bedroll farther across the room. But he did not speak, instead watching me, measuring me, I felt.
I was not accustomed to being scrutinized in such a manner. Suddenly self-conscious, I stooped to blow out the candle that was burning on the low, rough wooden table.
I felt more than heard the intake of his breath, but could not help but see the rise of his cock in his leathers.
Inside I felt a mixture of disappointment that he was like the rest of them, and excitement to cause this reaction in this puzzling man.
He did not make a move toward me, did not seem to expect any sexual favors, not even after his actions toward Bavarius. In the entire time in which he had been in this chamber, he had given me no reason at all to fear him. In fact, I somehow thought that he knew my fear, understood it.
After a long hesitation, I stood straight, planting my naked feet on the floor and letting the candlelight shine through the sheer fabric of my sleep toga. I knew that through it my dark nipples would be visible, as would the curve of my bare waist, the shadows between my thighs.
Seduced by the Gladiator Page 3