Let him look, I thought. Let him look and get it over with. Perhaps we would come together after all, a reaction to the events that had just transpired. We would fuck and be done with it.
The thought of touching that skin, that body, made my skin flush all over.
I did not have a figure that most Romans would consider attractive—I was far too lean for that—but most gladiators were denied women beyond the occasional whore. Suddenly unsure, I wondered if, when he saw that my frame was not lush with promise, perhaps his attention would wane.
I saw arousal flicker over his features, and saw that I was offering meat to the beast.
“I suppose you’re as deprived of a woman as the rest of these animals, but you will not find it easy to have me.” Though I was trembling inside as I took a stand, I made sure that my voice was strong and true. “Perhaps you should go plough your cock between the legs of one of the whores out there and get your fill.” I waited for him to either do as I suggested, eager at the mention of willing women, or to move toward me with hands outstretched.
Even through my fear, I wondered what it would feel like to have his hands on me. Something told me that, with him, nothing would be so simple, or so quick, as one fuck in the shadows of the night.
Christus did neither, meeting my challenge head on. His eyes never leaving my own, he reached inside his subligaculum and wrapped his hand around his cock, pulling it free. I gasped at the sight of his erection, large and hard in the dim light.
Instead of terrifying me, I felt arousal wash through me. The cleft between my thighs grew slick, and my nipples hardened, pressing against the coarse fabric of my shift.
“I have been with a woman much more recently than I care to remember.” He pumped once, twice, and the tip of his shaft glistened with his arousal. “I have been with many women, some because I wanted to lose myself inside of them, and some because I was given no choice. This is because I find you attractive as a woman, not just tits and a cunt.”
His stare hard, his breath even more so, Christus adjusted his straining erection so that it was again covered by his leathers. Propping himself up on his elbows, he gestured with a nod for me to lie on my own bed.
“And even though I want you, I will not touch you. You have my word on this. I know what it is like to be taken against your own desires.” With those words he rolled over, facing the wall. Those burning eyes and the evidence of his desire were out of my line of sight, yet I could feel them, a tangible presence in the room.
When long moments passed and he did not move, I relaxed enough to do as he had said, to take my own bed. I lay facing him, the better to see any sudden movements, though my gut told me that I could truly believe him.
My head argued with the feeling, and I lay awake for a long while despite my fatigue. In the end I acknowledged that my gut had saved my life a time or two in the arena.
Something told me that I could trust this man—indeed, that he might be just as damaged as I was.
Too tired to ponder that further, I focused on the steady breath of the man in the room. I did not yet know if that evenness suggested sleep or not, but regardless, I found I was lulled by it. It was a long time before I slept, but when I did, it was the deepest rest I’d had in years.
CHAPTER THREE
* * *
I was not interested in Christus. No, indeed I was not.
I stood, my heart pounding a staccato rhythm somewhere in the vicinity of my throat, as I watched the newest addition to our ludus work through his drills, his feet raising whorls of dust that danced in the hot air as he moved.
The rush of blood that thundered in my ears quieted only somewhat as, with approval from our doctore, the man who now shared my quarters walked past me to the massive jug of water that sat on the hot sand. Holding tightly to my pride, I refused to turn, refused to keep him where I could see him. Nonetheless, I was aware of him on a primal level, of the sound of the cool, clear water as it slid down his throat, of the whisper of his leather sandals as he came to stand beside me at the edge of the training grounds.
“You should not be here. It is not safe.” His voice was not one to be expected from someone who looked as relentless as this warrior did, reminiscent as it was of the burn of spice as it traveled to the belly.
This was a refrain that I had heard countless times over my years in the ludus, and I was not happy to hear it again, even if some small part of me was wondering if maybe, just maybe, the man was right.
“I am as strong a warrior as any man here.” Always before, I had felt pride in what I was, in what I did. I didn’t think that it was a negative thing for me to embrace the life I had been given.
Anger boiled deep inside of me, anger that this man had made me question myself. More than that, something about the way that he looked at me, out of those incredibly blue eyes, refused to let me forget that, gladiator or not, I was also a woman, no matter how much I might try to forget.
As I stood in the blood-and-sweat-soaked training area of the ludus, I had never in my life been more aware that of this fact. Not only was I a woman, but I was a very young, comparatively small one, albeit one who had earned her vicious reputation bit by bloody bit.
I didn’t fear any of the other men who worked in the yard, though I was ever wary of them, and rightly so. But I feared Christus, a bit, for what he was making me recognize in myself.
“No one doubts your ferocity, my lady. Yet with your presence here, among these beasts, you tempt the gods.” Though he did not touch me, his words felt like a brand, searing into my skin. Unable to contain myself any longer, I turned at his words, raised a brow in a show of defiance that I did not truly feel.
I did not like it when he called me “lady.” Or perhaps I liked it too much.
“Should I be afraid, gladiator? Am I not safe with you in this ludus, and in my chambers?” Darius had asked some questions after the debacle of the previous day. While he had not been champion at his former ludus, Christus had nonetheless earned a reputation as a vicious fighter and, perhaps even more terrifying, an honorable one. He played by the rules, even when his opponents did not, and I knew that it was but a matter of time before he clashed with Bavarius and his crew.
I knew, or rather strongly suspected, that I was safe with him. But I did not need protection, not even when it was freely offered.
I said none of this to Christus, who still stood at my side. From across the ring I saw Darius pause in his drills, his ebony skin gleaming in the early morning sun. He cocked his head at me, querying to see if I was all right. I nodded once, brusquely, and with a scowl at Christus, my friend leapt back into the fray.
At my side, Christus was silent for a long moment before he spoke, that dark, decadent voice hanging heavy in the air.
“You are always safe by my side, my lady.” I ground my teeth together as he used the endearment yet again. I was not a lady—could never be a lady, not in this life. I also did not miss the small inflection that he gave to the word “my,” but I chose to ignore it.
He was feeling protective of me for reasons that I did not fully understand, but I could not have it. I could not look weak. I opened my mouth to tell him so, but he was not finished speaking.
“However, beauty such as yours tempts a man, and these men are less civilized than most. Why do you not choose a position upstairs, away from these brutes? If these men decide as one that they will have you, then I cannot hold them back.”
Goaded now beyond reason, I turned and shoved at the man. He stumbled backward in surprise, but righted himself before looking down at me with a mix of curiosity and caution in his face.
Caution. Good. He should be afraid of me, female or not.
Everyone should.
“The men have decided as one that they will have me. Some did not survive. The others now know better.” Slowly I advanced on Christus, my hand at the wooden training sword on my hip. He held his ground, but his eyes began to spark dangerously. “I am well aware that
the mere fact that I possess a cunt is tempting for these bastards. Down here, I can fight back. I can defend my own honor, and all that you have managed to do since arriving is to demonstrate to the others that I need help doing so.”
My teeth were bared now, and I spoke with conviction. How dare this man, the same one who had ruined my unyielding reputation with a few well-meant but careless words, patronize me? He was strong, but so was I, and I would not hesitate to challenge him.
I glared up at him, ready to pounce, daring him to move the wrong way, to add that last bit of fuel to the fire of my anger. But as he stood his ground, looking like he might bite me back if I struck, I felt that same lust that had been dogging me since I had first set eyes on him, washing over me.
Lust was a sensation that I could not allow myself to feel. But it was so rare to have a man see me as a woman and recognize my strength at the same time. The very fact that he was not backing down from this challenge spoke of his own strength, and did funny things to my insides.
It had been years since I had met a man whose will seemed even stronger than my own. It enticed me.
Christus said nothing, though I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. Good, I thought. Some of my words had to be getting through.
“I know that you mean well.” I could not help but soften toward him, just a bit. He was so clearly confused about why I did not wish to be protected. “But I would be in worse straits if I were to serve upstairs, as you so helpfully suggest. Have you no idea of what happens to house slaves, no matter how valued they are in the household?”
Christus opened his mouth to speak, but I continued, determined to make my point. Perhaps if he understood just what he was doing to me, he would stop interfering.
“If a regular slave’s dominus or domina wants them, they have no say. If a visiting patrician wants them, they have no say. They are used as entertainment at parties, used to satisfy the rich man’s every whim. And they cannot fight back.”
A storm of some sort began to brew in the depths of Christus’ eyes. I saw that my words were affecting him, saw from the corner of my eye that one or two of the other men had noticed our quarrel and were watching avidly.
I was too far gone in my irritation to care. Besides, it could only do well for my reputation for the other men to see me dominating our newest recruit.
“Do you not have any understanding of the world outside of the ludus?” I very nearly stomped my foot, I was so mad. As Christus stared back at me, not shirking away from my words, I was reminded of some of his earliest words to me, about how we were possibly not so different.
Unease crept into my gut, along with a trickle of shame. I pushed it away, stomped it down, but it refused to be vanquished.
Christus stepped toward me, not touching me but still much too close for my comfort. I sucked in a breath as I felt the power radiating off his skin.
Something about him drew me to him. I could not succumb to the desire.
“I know more about that life than anyone should ever have to, especially someone as beautiful as you. Do not for a moment think that I do not understand you. I think that perhaps I understand better than anyone else.” He leaned in, just the slightest bit, until his lips were a mere whisper away from my own. My mind shrieked at me to push him away, that no matter how much my body was suddenly screaming for his touch, it was the worst thing that I could do.
The choice was taken away from me unexpectedly. The air to my front seemed cold as he abruptly left. He strode away as his words finished sounding, this time his feet raising great clouds in the sand instead of graceful puffs, a fact that I noticed dumbly as his words sank into my mind. I was so stunned by his comment on my beauty and by the shame I felt that I stood stricken silent for a long moment.
He thought I had beauty? No one had ever thought that in my life. Speechless, I watched as the sinewy man whose hair shone black as the night sky strode out among the pairs that were training for their next battle in the arena. The expression on his face was so fierce that the first man he faced physically recoiled, turning away to another partner.
Christus stood alone, daring the men to partner with his anger. Finally Darius moved to face him, but not before sending a measured look my way.
I knew Darius well enough to know his thoughts. With that look, he was telling me that perhaps it would not be so bad to have a protector.
I could not find it within myself to relinquish that much control.
For once, I did not feel like watching my friend’s graceful form. Instead, my eyes followed Christus’ every move as he worked his way through the exercise. The concentration on his face was absolute, focused completely on the movements of his wooden training sword, which moved with precision but not, I knew, actually biting through a man’s flesh or bone.
The unrelenting sun shone down on sweating skin stretched tight over solid muscle on all of the men, but I could not turn away from this man, his form displaying muscles that stood out in sharp relief, hardened from physical activity that never seemed to cease.
Though he had appeared in my chamber the night before in a light traveling tunic, he now followed custom and wore the same brief leather garment of the other men. The subligaculum sat low on his hips, showcasing a flat stomach and the edges of hipbones that suddenly caused my mouth to go dry.
I had never before thought twice about the garment that we all wore—clothing was simply something that hindered movement in the arena. But on Christus, there was a lot of skin visible to glisten in the honeyed sun of late afternoon, and after his comment on my beauty, I was suddenly aware of the man in a manner in which I did not want to be.
I wasn’t beautiful, this I knew, and my looks were not something that should have even been a thought in my head. But it seemed that I was not above having my head turned, even if just a bit, by such a compliment.
It had been so long since I had had one that did not pertain to my prowess in the arena.
“Finally, you have found your place. Watching the men, rather than trying to be one.” Bavarius walked past me toward the same water urn that Christus had just drunk deeply from. He had managed to approach me unannounced while I was preoccupied with Christus, and I cursed myself for the foolishness.
The sight of his smile brought chilly fear washing over my skin in a manner that it did not when I was with Christus. This time I did turn, the better to keep my watchful eyes on him as the man drank deeply, more than his fair share in weather that could easily lead to drought, then splashed yet more water over his round face.
I did not like the way that he eyed me now, so familiarly. I had been forced to teach him a lesson before, but did not relish doing so again—he was not the strongest of gladiators, but he did not fight fairly, something that always tilted the odds in his favor.
Added to the matter was that fact that he had once tasted me. I was sorely afraid that, combined with a need to retaliate, he found my body to his taste.
His smile took me back to my earliest days in the ludus, when I had tried to fight his advances, and those of the other men. I shuddered as those thoughts led to ones of the days when I hadn’t had the strength left to fight.
Those days were in the past, I thought as I snapped a strong rod in place in my spine. No matter what impression he was currently under, I was no longer weak, nor was I one of the whores who were brought into the ludus on occasion to satisfy urges that could no longer be postponed.
I had never understood his fascination with me, not when the dominus turned such a blind eye to the whores.
It was well known that spilling his seed weakened a man. A gladiator needed all of his strength for the arena, and was expected to remain chaste. Not that that knowledge had ever been a protection to me.
I felt certain that other ludi were much the same, allowing their men to have women and wine from time to time to calm thoughts of revolt. I wondered if Christus had ever indulged in one of these women, if he had ever tasted their perfumed flesh, had ever sunk
deep between the thighs of a woman who was there only because of the coin that she would earn.
I did not doubt this with Bavarius. I knew that, though Darius found his own ways the night before, Bavarius was usually the man responsible for arranging the visits from the prostitutes . . . and also that he would arrange for himself the women who would cater to his own strange perversions. The fact that I had intimate knowledge of these perversions did not endear the man to me, nor did the slow, leisurely manner in which the gladiator raked his gaze from my tightly braided, flaxen hair over my breasts, into the valley between my thighs, and down over the length of my legs.
I always made certain to cover my breasts and behind fully with the leather costume provided to us in the ludus—I did not wish to display any part of my body that I considered private. But there were still great swathes of my skin visible to the naked eye—my shoulders, my abdomen, my legs. It had to be so, for layers of clothing hindered my ability to fight in the arena.
I was not sure that more clothing would have mattered, regardless. The man made me feel naked anyway, and in a manner that made me feel ill.
Though the glint in Bavarius’ eyes caused nerves to skitter frantically through my belly, I raised my chin with an air of contempt that I did not feel and painted the smallest of sneers on my lips.
“I know where my place is.” I wanted to say more, but did not want to provoke the man, though I was strangely reassured of my safety after a night with Christus in my chambers. “I train to win. To win honor, to win coin, for this house.”
Bavarius’ eyes narrowed in irritation when he realized that I would not be offput, and he took a step toward me, arm outstretched. Though I did not admire it in the way that I did Christus’, I knew that that arm was roped with cords of muscle, and was capable of inflicting real harm.
Seduced by the Gladiator Page 4