by Nicola Rose
“No,” I gasp, higher pitched than I’d have liked. Cassian’s jaw is grinding so tightly his teeth may crumble to dust.
He can’t know. Marcus must not be given any clue as to my weakness. We will all perish.
“You’re right,” I stammer. “Cassian is the vilest of them all. Only last night I had to stop him before he killed that poor slave girl. It’s lucky I heard her cries and went, since the guards were sleeping.” A flicker of disbelief passes over all their faces – Cassian, and the men, but they remain mute, and I continue, “If he wasn’t bringing in so much money I’d suggest that Felix sells him. I can hardly stand to look at him.”
I see Cassian’s fists clench and unclench, trying so hard to calm himself. Vitus looks ready to step in.
Slowly, Cassian raises his head to look directly upon Marcus, and the world tips from beneath my feet.
21
Cassian
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Every part of me screams with the instinct not to look at him.
But I can’t stop myself. And when my eyes meet his – so smug and self-assured, I would give anything to gauge them out with a spike.
“I’m in good company. You know all about making girls cry, too, don’t you Marcus?” I spit the words into his face and the gasps of everyone around are loud enough to knock a modicum of sense into me. I drop my head back down.
Too late.
Not only had I looked into his eyes uninvited, I’d even used his name.
Weighted silence follows the sharp intake of breath. Waiting.
We wait. The calm before the storm.
Vitus slams into me from behind, forcing me to my knees. Then he’s in front, drawing his knee into my face. Blood rushes from my nose and drips to the dirt.
“Apologies, Master Atticus, I will deal with this immediately,” Vitus grovels, his face turning whiter by the second.
“Yes, you will,” Marcus storms. “This gladiator will not rest for two days. You keep him moving every minute of the day. And when he can’t breathe and passes out, you wake him up and get him going again. Understood?”
“Of course.”
“Felix will be hearing of this and you can bet your life that unless Cassian achieves something miraculous at the next games, then his miserable existence here on earth will come to an even more miserable end.”
22
Cassian
Marcus left long ago. Not brave enough to try and discipline me himself. Perhaps he has some brains after all.
I’m still jogging around the yard, every step threatening to break me with exhaustion.
Livia has not moved from her seat beside the courtyard. She sits, and watches, lost and glazed over. There is nothing in her eyes. No warmth. No compassion.
Her beautiful face is bruised. She often tries to hide the scar on her cheek. Now she tries even harder to hide behind that fiery red hair, hanging limply over one side of her face.
She’s ice. Cold and fracturing. Little cracks are blossoming through her shell. Soon, if she doesn’t stop it, the cracks will spread and she’ll fall apart.
Vitus has become distracted with a conversation and I slow my pace, hesitating by her chair as I pass.
“You’re poisonous,” I say on a sharp breath. “Your venom is so deep beneath my skin that I can’t tell where the most pain comes from – the arena, or your mouth.”
I don’t linger long enough for her to reply, but I do note the shift in her eyes, from disconnected to burning fiercely.
23
Livia
It’s my duty to ensure the slaves know their place. And to keep the people entertained when they are presented with my gladiators. I don’t have much purpose in life, but that’s one obligation I can’t shy from. If I fail to keep control of my own house then I’ll lose everything. I’ll end up with even less than I have now. I can handle the emptiness in my soul, but not in my pocket. I can’t become destitute.
Yet the haunted look in his eyes crucifies me. The hurt, anger, regret. I die a little more on the inside, but I’ll never show it.
Sweeping from my chair, I catch up with Cassian on his lap of the courtyard. He slows to a walk as I step in pace beside him, ignoring the wary look from Vitus.
“Speaking out against Marcus was unforgiveable. You push your luck too far. Your ego swells with my attention and you forget your place,” I hiss.
He’ll get himself killed. I can’t stop the punishments that Felix will inflict.
“Apologies, Domina,” he spits my title with disgust, panting with exertion. “Next time, would you like me to bend over so he can shove his miniscule cock further into my anus? Maybe he’ll shove it in so hard it’ll come out my throat? Would you like that? Would you like to see him fuck me the way he fucks you? We both know how much you enjoy watching—”
I grab his shoulder and pull him to a stop. Then I slap him around the face. Hard.
“I did what I had to do, and I’d do it again. If I didn’t, there would be no hierarchy, no order—”
He drags a finger slowly across his bloody lip.
And smiles.
Staring into my eyes.
Fucking smiling! Cassian doesn’t smile. Ever.
Too far. I have pushed him too far and now the beast prowls free, he won’t rein it back.
He’s going to get us both killed.
24
Livia
Vitus doesn’t falter from his orders. He works Cassian almost to the point of death.
Two whole days. No sleep. Minimal water. No food, save for the meagre amount of bread that I forced Alba to sneak to him.
Even the other gladiators wince when I approach. They fear me now. They fear me, because if I can sit back and let this happen to the gladiator I love, then I wouldn’t hesitate to inflict far worse upon them.
Cassian is allowed one day of rest after his punishment, and then he’s right back to rigorous training.
Marcus calls in briefly each day to check that everything is in order. He doesn’t touch me again, but he does take delight in telling me that Felix will be staying away for longer on his trip, and that he will return in a few days for a more thorough inspection. My skin crawls.
I shake off the memory of those words, of the promise they hold, and summon Cassian to my room. The guard deposits him inside without so much as a glance at either of us.
I expect him to drop his head. To stare at my feet, or kneel before me, awaiting instruction. This is the way of things. The order.
But he does none of that. Instead, he marches straight for me and catches my throat in his hand. I don’t even have time to let out a shriek. His grip tightens until I can barely breathe and shoves me back against the wall.
Piercing blue eyes shine vividly against the inky black of tattoos that creep up his neck, and consume his arms. Crystalline eyes, hiding a monster. He speaks against my mouth, “You fucking bitch. You want the beast? No problem. I will hate fuck that shit right out of you.”
Kicking my feet apart, he hoists up my dress with his free hand. The other is still wrapped so firmly against my throat that I start seeing stars. Moving with predatory grace, he has his cock out in the next moment and it’s pressing to my eager opening.
“You might be my Domina, you might control every person here,” he says into my ear. “But right now, you are mine. I’m your master and you will worship at my feet. Do you understand?”
I try to nod. Or gargle. And he bites my ear. Claiming me. Marking me.
“Fail to satisfy me, whore, and I will break you, I will—” His words become lost to the roar of passion in my ears. He releases my throat and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist. Crushing my back into the wall again, he slams himself inside me.
I scream. And his hand comes back to clamp over my mouth.
“You will not scream unless I command it,” he growls.
Whimpering, I buck against him, needing him deeper, needing more.
&nb
sp; He pauses; another smile playing on his lips. So breathtaking. “Oh, you want more, do you?”
Nodding, I wriggle against him.
“Do you remember what happens when I want more? All the times you have denied me for your own selfish games?” He withdraws and stands back across the room, near the door. My chest tightens.
No, no, no. Don’t leave me here, not like this.
I won’t allow it. I’ll command him… I will only play this game for so long…
Break him. Do not show weakness…
He stands before me, radiating carnal need. He isn’t going anywhere, and that might scare me more. Breathing ragged. He stares me down with such ferocity that I’m both terrified and exhilarated.
Strong hands reach up to undo the buckle on his leather shoulder plate. He steps toward me, controlled, measured. One step. Two. All the while slowly pulling the strap away from the pauldron until he’s left with a leather belt, which he draws through his fingers.
He wouldn’t whip me. He can’t… the marks it would leave…
Desire pools between my legs. So aching, so desperate. I’m pinned to the spot by the way he’s looking at me. Dangerous. Sinful. Dirty.
Like I’m prey. Like he’s going to devour me.
“Kneel,” he orders, and my knees buckle.
I don’t flinch when he puts the leather strap around my throat. Even though I’m immediately flooded by images of those dogs in the cage…
Break them. Tear them down.
Panic is rising. Panic that I’ll never show.
He pauses. Waiting.
He won’t hurt me. Not if I don’t want it. I nod once, and slowly he eases the buckle tighter. The leather is cold and firm. Intimidating. “Good girl,” he soothes, dragging a thumb down my cheek and into my mouth. “It’s not so hard, is it?”
I shake my head, sucking his thumb and praying to the Gods that I’m not making a terrible mistake.
If you show weakness, they will destroy you.
Abruptly he yanks on the collar and manoeuvres me onto all fours.
I’m his bitch now. I moan my approval as his cock teases my wetness.
Then he slams home. Relentlessly. Hard and fast until I can’t breathe.
He’s a beast that can’t be tamed. The very idea is absurd. He has been bred for this. He should never be tamed. It would be a tragedy to do so.
He’s breathtaking. Savage. Beautiful. Just the way he should be.
I don’t want him tamed. I want him just the way he is, in all his fucked-up glory.
25
Cassian
I want to hurt her. I need to…
I can’t stop the hand that curls around her throat, and then her mouth, muffling her screams. I can’t resist pulling on that collar, making her back arch, dragging her helpless body into mine. I want her to beg. To submit. I will give her the beast. Let’s see how much she really likes it when she finds that the idea of an unhinged Thracian in her bed is much more thrilling than the reality.
Yet her delicious cunt is dripping with need. And her eyes are alive, for the first time in what feels forever. She’s back. My Domina. Reckless and free, unbound.
I thrust into her like a starved creature, frantic for release. Harder. Faster.
Against the wall, then on the floor. Then I bend her over the bed once more and take her from behind, holding her hips and ploughing into that sweet core as if I may never see tomorrow.
In case I don’t see tomorrow.
Any minute now the visions will come. They always do, whenever I have sex. Except with her. When she makes love to me a silence sweeps through my veins. The fog lifts and the violence dies…
But now she has forced me into this. She has tortured and coaxed me, and now I’m fucking her like an animal, and the blood lust will surely come…
Thrusting, harder and deeper. I can’t get deep enough. I throw her to her back on the floor and hoist a leg over my shoulder, angling to get deeper. Pulling her legs further apart.
Our love-making was my only sanity. But now she wants to take that only moment of peace from me, she wants to taint it by seeking the beast…
Palming her breasts, I squeeze and pull. I dig my nails into the thin scraping of flesh over her hips. I grab her everywhere, frantic and raw.
Sweat drips from my forehead. I didn’t bathe before coming here straight from the training ground. Dusty and bloody. Her dirty, untamed animal.
She locks her eyes to mine and screams as her orgasm approaches.
“Come for me,” I growl, withdrawing all the way out and slamming back in.
She cries out my name, over and over, as she tightens around my cock, pulsing and clenching. Bucking and arching, fingers clawing at me.
My hands go back to her throat, over the collar, and squeeze… tighter…
She flaps like a fish out of water, her body straining for breath. And I tumble into my own climax, spiralling down in a torrent of blissful release.
Dropping her leg, I collapse down beside her and stare at the ceiling.
The visions never came. The darkness never took hold. But I fucked her like a demon and loved every second.
26
Livia
I don’t know how long we lay there, staring upwards. After a while, or an age, I turn and burrow into his chest. His arm wraps protectively around my body, tucking me in tighter.
Letting out a sigh, I open my mouth to speak.
“Please don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t spoil it yet.”
So I stroke his stomach lazily and wait… as long as I can bear before my head starts going crazy with the insistence that we can’t lay there any longer.
“Aelia will tell Felix what really happened that night, in your cell,” I say.
He huffs a noisy breath and removes himself from my clutches, grabbing his leathers.
“The threat is too great. We need her gone—”
“Gone?!” he shouts. “Dead?”
“We’ll be the dead ones if we don’t deal with her.”
“You treat us with such contempt,” he slams his fist into the table. “She’s disposable to you, too? You can just have me fuck her and kill her, that simple?”
“There’s no other way. Not now, with Marcus sniffing around, too. Everything is slipping…”
“Are you really this cold?” he shakes his head incredulously.
“Aren’t you? You’ve killed a hundred people without remorse. What is the difference if I wish to kill one? You kill for survival, and perhaps, so shall I.”
“You know nothing of my remorse. And you know nothing of killing.”
“So teach me.”
That did it. His fist coiled near my face as he considered striking.
“Am I really nothing more than a plaything to you? I understand that I’m your toy in the arena, I’m trained to perform for you there. But this? I don’t understand this. Is it all a game?”
“You may devour my body, but you will not devour my heart,” I say quietly.
“And yet, here I am, Domina, offering you mine on a silver platter.”
“Is that what that was? Your heart?
He flinches as if I’ve struck him and I reach out to stroke his face, but he slaps my hand away.
“Every slave in this house knows what we do,” his voice drops. “Your secret is never safe. Disposing of one girl does not fix that. Will you kill them all?”
My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.
“You don’t need to,” he sighs, shaking his head. “The fact is, they will not betray you, because they will not betray me. I’m their family. We stick together. But if you wish to be certain of the secret remaining then it’s a simple matter of treating them with respect. They live simple lives; all they ask for is a little kindness.”
I try to speak again, but he cuts me off. “Call him. Now.”
I don’t know how the roles have reversed so dramatically, but I want to beg him to stay. Until I see the coldness in h
is eyes and find myself recoiling from it.
“Guard,” I croak.
The guard enters and Cassian drops his gaze, back to my feet. Submissive and broken. I watch a little piece of my heart escape as he is led from my room.
27
Livia
A few days have passed and I’m still wondering if I could really order an innocent slave girl killed? Cassian is still angry with me. I can see the way it thrums on him every time I’m near. So I leave him be. Once he’s calmed down I’ll call for him, but which gladiator will I receive? The submissive or the dominant? And which one do I want?
He’s right, of course. Killing Aelia would cross a line, too far. Sending a gladiator to battle is one thing, but outright murder to try and protect myself is quite another. My head is a jumbled mess. I’m terrified. My feelings for Cassian are spiralling out of control and I don’t know how to stop them.
I need him. He needs me.
But there’s only one way this can end. We’re living on borrowed time, waiting for our bubble to burst – our poisonous little bubble in which we just love to hurt each other. How long will it be before he snaps and kills me, as he would an opponent in the arena? He could do it so easily, and I know that sometimes he wants to.
He could have done it when he had that collar around my neck. I gave him all the power. I’m such a fool.
He’s a slave. All he knows is hate and obedience towards his masters. Perhaps he only does what he does to humour me, to ensure he is of worth and that we keep him. Perhaps I am nothing but a spoiled rich bitch to him. He probably laughs with the other gladiators about me. The pathetic woman who can’t keep her hands off the forbidden meat.