Jeremy advanced on her, ripping the itchy, hated gladiator helmet from his head, and dropping it in the dirt, hoping she’d maybe recognize him this time.
Instead, she snarled, a wicked smile shaping her mouth as she wielded the weapon with a skill borne of not only surviving in this arena for months, but of years of training before ever arriving here.
“You should put your helmet back on, gladiator. If you think I can’t wield this sword and take your head off, you’re sadly mistaken.”
When she then promptly swung the blood-spattered sword in a wide arc, barely missing his throat, it became clear she truly didn’t recognize him.
“I know exactly what your skill set is comprised of, Angelica,” he shouted, retreating several steps. “We’ve fought together before.” He then pointed a single finger in her direction. “Don’t pick a fight you can’t win.” It was a familiar phrase he usually said before they parted. It wasn’t that she was rash, but she absolutely did not like to lose.
She faltered a step, and he thought perhaps she did remember.
Jeremy leaned forward, and she rapidly executed a perfect backhanded slice through the air using the borrowed sword with seemingly renewed energy.
Angelica also obviously didn’t remember his familiar phrases. He didn’t move fast enough out of her way. With his opponent’s heavy sword, she managed to catch the shoulder of his spiffy new gladiator vest, ripping the shoulder seam open completely and tagging his shoulder with a little nick, sending a dribble of his blood down one arm. The rent fabric dropped and folded over on itself, exposing the skin directly below his collarbone as if prepping his flesh for her next sword thrust to his heart.
“Angelica! Wait. It’s me. It’s Jeremy,” he yelled once more, trying to compete with the escalating crowd noise. “I’ve come for you.” He backed up a step. She advanced, but was stopped short by the chain wrapped around her waist. She pulled, unable to move further, her reach stymied by pure physics.
Jeremy didn’t move. He watched her. She was smart. He had no doubt that she’d think of another way.
She brought the sword back, ready to throw it like a javelin and skewer him all the way to his backbone. He realized her intent and made ready to dive out of the way, but suddenly she paused. Her gaze shifted to where her last strike had fallen. Did she see him bleeding? No. Her eyes zeroed in on the tattoo covering the left side of his chest. The special one over his heart.
Angelica’s mouth fell open, as if in shock, her arm dropping to her side as if she was no longer capable of holding the broadsword level. She continued to stare at the ink below his collarbone. She then stared at his face, particularly his eyes. He gazed back, filling his expression with all the love he had for her, accompanied with all the worry of the past several months without her.
Her free hand went to her forehead. She blinked hard as tears sprouted from her eyes, landing on her cheeks. He took a single step forward, hoping she didn’t change her mind and stab him. The crowd in the stands quieted as if waiting for this to be a trick. She was probably luring him in for the kill, but he was powerless to stop moving toward her. He had to know if she remembered him. Remembered them.
“Angelica,” he said loudly. Her gaze found his once more. She didn’t lift her sword. Instead she dropped it in the dirt and reached out a hand to his chest. Her fingertips brushed across the special tattoo beneath his collarbone.
She put her palm over the tattoo, lowered her head a moment as if trying to remember how she knew it. The sensation of her touch almost brought him to his knees. He’d missed her so desperately.
Most of his ink was military related. But the place she touched was the special one. The space where his sister’s name was embedded within the military markings. It was the one tattoo Angelica had always liked to caress, kiss, press her cheek to with reverence. Maybe because she was the only person in the galaxy who knew the significance. He’d never told another soul about the meaning. Not even the guy who’d done the work to permanently put it there.
“Your tattoo,” she whispered. “I remember…”
“Do you remember me?” He was so relieved that she’d stopped trying to kill him, he nearly wept, eyes watering as he blinked away any weakness.
She fell to her knees as if she’d been held up by strings and they’d been cut without warning. Jeremy also went down to kneel before her, drawing her into his arms. She kissed the special tattoo over his heart. Her lips a welcome remembered treat to his skin. “I remember this tattoo.” Behind her, the gladiator she was still chained to started stirring in the dirt. He coughed twice, tried to push up, but failed, landing face down on the arena floor again. He didn’t move further.
Above them Lord Harcourt shouted out from his throne. “You can’t leave the ring or take her with you unless you kill the other gladiator.”
“No!” Angelica shouted. She wrenched herself from his arms, scrambling backward toward his opponent, leaving William’s sword in the dirt where she’d dropped it. She put herself in front of the man she’d been with for the past few months: William the gladiator.
Every video of them in all the inventive positions they’d discovered together slammed into Jeremy’s mind. He glanced around the stadium, looking at the crowd in the stands, their voices whispering, their minds wondering, their fingers wagering, pointing at each of the men on the field of battle, making bets on whatever the outcome of today’s event might be.
Watching Angelica attend to her recent lover didn’t have the impact most might expect. Jeremy had seen every film of them together. He’d also watched every single battle they’d fought in this arena. This gladiator chained to his love had saved Angelica repeatedly in the months they’d been apart. The man deserved his considerable gratitude, not a kill shot to his heart.
“Kill him!” Lord Harcourt screamed. “Kill him, now!”
Jeremy slowly stood and walked over to them, wickedly heavy sword still clutched in one hand. Angelica cowered over the other gladiator’s body, doing her best to protect him. The sword she’d abandoned was now out of her reach. She gazed at it now with undisguised desire.
She looked up into his eyes, her stare beseeching him not to do what the master in the dais was demanding. “Please don’t hurt him! Please just don’t.”
“Kill him!” Lord Harcourt stood from his gilded dais, pumping a fist in the air. His stare like laser fire blasting down from on high.
“You said I had to win the fight. I did that already. You never said I had to kill him.”
“Well, I’m saying it now. Kill him.”
Jeremy stared back at his lordship, their furious gazes locked, and he said loudly, “Go fuck yourself, Lord Harcourt.” He dropped his sword point to the dusty surface of the arena and turned away from his lordship’s fierce, angry look to stare into Angelica’s eyes.
Lord Harcourt growled his displeasure. “Kill him now or your deal to take her out of here is null and void. Kill him, or the two of you remain in my care.”
Jeremy looked up at Lord Harcourt for a long time. He hadn’t changed his mind. But he walked closer to Angelica and William. His opponent remained still.
Angelica stared at Lord Harcourt with unreserved hatred. “Please don’t kill him. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve to die.”
Jeremy asked her, “Why wouldn’t you come with me before?”
She squinted as if the change in topic confused her.
He elaborated. “When I flew down into the arena in my shuttle. You started to take a few steps closer to me, but then you retreated to him.” He nodded his head at William. “I wondered why?”
Her gaze narrowed. She answered, “Because your small ship didn’t have enough room for Will and me both.” She licked her lips. “I couldn’t leave him behind to face this alone. He never left me. He always protected me.”
Jeremy nodded, understanding her defense of the man she’d been here with in this primitive place.
“You can still kill him and make th
is right, Mr. Cahill!” Lord Harcourt fairly frothed at the mouth from above them.
Jeremy made a decision. “No. I’m not killing a barely conscious, unarmed man. I don’t care what you do to me.” He then looked up at Lord Harcourt. “Besides, I have something else to negotiate with.”
“What?” Lord Harcourt’s tone suggested he didn’t have anything.
“Agree to a re-negotiation of our deal, and we can discuss it.”
His lordship stood up. “No. Kill him or suffer my wrath.” Lord Harcourt was obviously not used to being tested.
Jeremy shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll take my chances.”
Lord Harcourt paused momentarily, an odd expression of surprise on his face. Like he couldn’t believe anyone had the audacity to stand up to him. The thin man always seated to his lordship’s right whispered in the man’s ear, and they had a small discussion, ignoring the participants in the ring.
Angelica stood up. “Thank you.”
“Do you remember me, Angelica? Even a little bit.”
She turned to him, her focus landing on his tattoo again. At first she shook her head.
“My name is Angelica?” she asked as if trying out the name and finding it wholly unfamiliar. Her gaze went back to his tattoo.
Jeremy pushed out a deep sigh. Good that she at least remembered something about him, even if it only turned out to be his ink.
He tried another tack. “Do you remember why this tattoo is special to me?”
Angelica stared at the alpha-numeric symbols on his chest. She stood up, reached out her hand, and traced them with her finger. Just like she always did before, during, and after they made love. “I…” She stopped, dropped her hand from his skin, and swayed on her feet. He reached out to steady her, grabbing her elbow. She stiffened as if his touch was unwanted. He released her.
Her fingers reached out once more to stroke the letters and numbers needled permanently into his flesh. Her brows furrowed as if fighting to remember. “Your sister’s name is here within the other letters and numbers.”
Jeremy had hidden the name in there as a reminder of the important person he failed to save long ago. He’d only been three, almost four when his sister had been killed defending him.
Angelica often kissed that tattoo or caressed it reverently as if to share the burden of what he considered his most important failure. She always told him it wasn’t failure for a child to have succeeded in surviving against vile determined men that day. She also told him it was heroic to have his sister’s name tattooed over his heart in fond and important memory.
He pushed out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d held in. “Yes. That’s right.”
“The sister who died protecting you when you were little.”
“Yes.” Jeremy took half a step closer moving into her personal space, wanting to connect. Wanting a kiss. Wanting more. “Do you remember me?” he asked quietly as she contemplated things. “Please tell me you know who I am.”
Tears streamed down her face. He didn’t know whether it was because she finally remembered or still tried to recall the answer to his question, or rather the desperation in his demand.
“I know we’ve had sex before,” she said all of a sudden. Her gaze lifted to his.
“Yes. We have.”
Her beautiful dark-eyed stare penetrated straight through to his very soul. “More than once?”
“Yes. And it was extraordinary each and every time.” Jeremy didn’t know what to say so that she’d remember their entire past. Feeling like his time was running out, he spoke from his heart. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you on the command deck of the Dalton, barking orders like you were born to do it.”
She just kept staring at him. It was so amazing to find her at long last after searching for so endlessly a time without result. She looked at him like a curiosity. Like the remnant of a dream she couldn’t quite fully recall.
“You didn’t notice me until I wowed you with my smarts one day during a tense moment on the bridge of that same spacecraft. In fact, I’ve never proven this for certain, but I believe you were the one who invented my nickname, Mr. Regulation, and spread it all over the ship we both served on, weren’t you?”
Her eyes suddenly squinted and a small smile shaped her luscious lips. “Mr. Regulation…always has the answer…you’re Jeremy Cahill.” A statement, not a question.
“Yes. That’s right. What else do you remember, Angelica? Tell me.”
She stared into his face again briefly, seemingly not really seeing him, but thinking hard about her past. Unfortunately, she started trembling. She grasped her head between her hands and fell to her knees. A single drop of blood fell from her nose and on to her knee.
Jeremy started to sink to his knees, but she reached out. “Help me up.”
He did, bending at the waist to help her stand again.
“I do remember you. Just as I remember the full significance of that tattoo. More importantly, I remember me.”
“I love you, Angelica,” he said, wanting to ensure she heard him before another moment passed. “You can’t imagine how worried I’ve been that I’d never see you again.”
Angelica leaned in and pressed her lips against his. He hadn’t expected it and was slow to react. She’d pulled away before he even kissed her in return. But then she said, “I love you, too, Jeremy.”
She pulled away and smiled directly at him with recognition in her gaze for the first time since his arrival. She then wiped the trace of blood from beneath her nose, turning to face the lord in charge. He was still whispering with his lackey.
“I remember who I am, Lord Harcourt!” she bellowed across the space to the dais where his lordship was interrupted. “My name is Angelica Brice. I am not a slave. I never was. I was free born, and I was brought here against my will. You will let me go this instant!”
Jeremy smiled inwardly. His girl was about to pick a fight he hoped fervently that she’d win.
Chapter Fifteen
Angelica was reborn. She was free. The bulk of her lost memories were intact again, including the recent past and well before the arena. It was like a flood of information released into her mind, filling up all the empty gaps and crevasses with remembered facts.
“Fine. You are free to go with my blessings,” Harcourt said in a reasonable tone she didn’t trust in the least. A fake smile replaced the smug expression, when he then said, “But your gladiator lover will have to remain to fight another round. Perhaps I’ll chain a different woman to him this time. One who won’t give me as much grief as you have in your time here.”
“No.” She held herself rigid. “William already earned his freedom, twenty matches ago. Set him free, too. He’s earned it.”
Lord Harcourt shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
“What will it take for the three of us to leave together?” she asked, knowing there would be a hefty price to pay before she could truly win their freedom. There was always a price to be paid.
“I will have one more match. I’ve decided that the first twenty matches were to win your freedom and your gladiator lover still owes me one more match for his freedom because this new man sent a laser beam down to take out the challenge in round two. In my mind that’s cheating.”
“Oh, that’s cheating?” she said sarcastically. “Like when you kidnap helpless people in space, lock away their memories, and force them to fight for you? Like that?”
“Regardless of how you came to be here, you are free to go. However, the two men next to you right now shall remain behind. William needs to fight one more battle in the arena because he failed to eliminate the second round beasts himself. And this new gladiator owes me one more battle in the ring, because he failed to kill William in this most recent match.”
“You’re going back on your word.” She stared him down. No longer was she the fearful, forgetful slave bitch. She knew exactly who she was.
“That’s not possible, as I’m the one who makes the
rules.”
“How convenient.” She crossed her arms, defiantly. “Do you have any other offers I should consider?”
Lord Harcourt looked suddenly smug. “How about you sit beside me in my dais and watch the next battle.”
“To what end? If you pit them against each other I won’t have what I want, which is both of them escorting me safely away from here.”
“All these two have to do is win in a fair fight.”
“I don’t believe you would recognize a fair fight if one slapped you square in your face.”
His eyes narrowed in anger, shifting forward in his seat as if to shout at her, but he soon calmed himself. “Be that as it may, if you want both of these men to escort you away from here, then how about I chain them together for the next battle? And if they both survive they can both be free to leave with you, if that is your wish.”
“That is my wish. However in the earlier match, the two beasts were mechanical. They froze to a stop right before the lasers eliminated the threat.”
Lord Harcourt frowned. “So?”
“So, I want you to admit something to me.”
His brows drew together in puzzlement. “What?”
“Admit that you were about to go back on your original agreement to let me and William go.”
“I admit nothing, Slave B—” He stopped himself from calling her a name. “I am most certainly not going back on my agreement. You only assumed the first twenty matches were for his freedom. I say it was for yours and unlike you, I’ll be able to produce proof of this.” He sat back in his chair and an oily grin appeared. “However, I will give you another choice, Parisa.”
“My name is Angelica Brice. Don’t ever forget that again!”
“Fine. Angelica Brice, if you want both of these men to survive and also to leave with you, then I require one more match. You shall make the determination as to their fate. Either choose to put them in the arena chained together to face whatever beasts I choose to send in, or join them in the Den for a different round of engagement.”
Sexual Memory [Dark Colony 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 16