The Winged Serpent (The Order of the Oath)

by Nadia Aidan

  Her eyes blazed, along with her temper. He recognized the defiance upon her face so he said again, his voice a deadly whisper. “Release the whip.”

  The hard, cold edge of his tone sliced through her, wrenching her from the red haze of fury she’d been blinded by just moments ago.

  It all rushed back to her then, and she turned to see Primus sprawled atop the ground, his head at an unnatural angle, a physician already tending to him.

  Every gaze in the arena rested upon her—and most glittered with a combination of astonishment and respect. A few appeared as if they were prepared to murder her where she stood. Those few were the same men who’d huddled beside Primus laughing at her.

  She pierced them with narrowed eyes, and they shrank back, the cowards that they were. Had they been true men, and genuine friends, they would have pulled her off of Primus, instead of standing witness to his beating.

  A gentle tug against her wrist reminded her she still held the other end of the whip. She twisted her arm until it fell to the ground.

  Cyrus called an end to their day of training at the same time two of the guards carried Primus’ limp body from the arena to the infirmary.

  She watched until they disappeared from sight. When the rest of the fighters began to file past her, she turned to leave as well.

  The sound of her name echoing in the now empty space halted her where she stood.

  She glanced at him from over her shoulder, her look scathing before she continued on her way.

  He called her name again, but she ignored him, trudging ahead, even as she acknowledged her actions were foolish. To defy her doctoris was not wise for she could be severely punished, yet she could not talk to Cyrus. She could barely look at him after what he’d done.

  All she wished to do was retreat to her quarters before the tears stinging her eyes slipped down her cheeks and she cried once again.

  “I said stop, Aurora.”

  Cyrus’ voice thundered with authority, and she did not mistake the caged fury simmering just beneath the surface.

  She stopped, spinning around, a small gasp tumbling from her lips when she realized he stood less than an arm’s length away, much closer than she’d imagined.

  “What is it?” she snapped, recovering herself. “What is it you wish to say to me that your lash cannot say for you?”

  He winced, though his eyes shimmered with anger, the same emotion surely present in her own.

  “I had no choice—”

  Her laugh was bitter. “You had no choice? You are a big, powerful gladiator. Could you not have pulled me off of him? Could you not have commanded one of your men to do the same?”

  Her voice shook, but she blinked her eyes, refusing to cry before this man—because of this man, because of what he’d done, what she realized he’d had to do.

  “You were crazed Aurora, as if you were not yourself. I called your name a dozen times. I could not be certain you would not turn your rage upon my men, and I was too far away to stop you before you killed him.”

  His words deflated her and she hung her head in shame. “Will he be alright?”

  “I do not know,” Cyrus said quietly and his expression softened. “Do you wish to tell me what happened back there?”

  When she shook her head, he let out a long, weary breath. “I realize Primus, along with many of the recruits are difficult, but you cannot beat them to death. You are lucky Claudius encourages such savagery and will not punish you, but you may have made things worse for yourself here.”

  “I know,” she mumbled, because that was all she could say. He did not need to tell her that with her moment of rage, she had made herself a target for retaliation.

  She turned to leave, but stopped when Cyrus’ fingers brushed the skin along her arm where she’d caught his whip. She stared at the long, tanned length of his fingers gently stroking her marked flesh.

  A restless spark of heat ignited in her belly, and she bit back a gasp, her gaze snapping to his face. She swallowed deeply as his fingers trailed the length of her arm, across her shoulder.

  When he cupped her cheek with his callused palm, a deep sexual hunger stirred to life at the core of her. He stared at her beneath heavy lidded eyes, and she knew he felt it—this pulsing, throbbing awareness between them.

  Her lips parted, and her chest heaved when he leaned in closer, while her lungs burned with the raw, male scent of him, mixed with sweat and desire. When his thumb began to brush across her lips, she could no longer stem all of the sensations coursing through her. She moaned, a slight breathy sound that floated between them, drawing him ever closer.

  “I am sorry,” he said softly, hoarsely. “I would never wish to strike you, but I cannot treat you any differently than the rest of the fighters.”

  He was close, so close that if she lifted on her toes, and he leaned in, their lips would touch in a kiss she had no doubt would melt her bones. Instead of doing just that, she pulled away, and his hand dropped to his side curling into a ball.

  Aurora did not care that he was sorry. He would never know how deeply he’d just wounded her, not physically, but in a place where she’d sworn no one could touch her ever again, a place lodged so deep inside of her that she’d not even known it still existed until she’d returned to this life. With that one strike, as deserved as it had been, Cyrus had dredged up painful memories she’d long buried, but would never forget.

  His sigh crackled through the silence between them. “Maybe one day you shall trust me enough to share these pieces of your past.”

  Aurora did not know why that upset her—that this man desired an intimate knowledge of her that he himself would not give. So she said the only thing that came to mind, the one thing that had burned in her thoughts from the moment she’d met him, and glimpsed the arrogance in his eyes.

  “How is it you came to be a slave of Rome when you were once a free man of Thrace?”

  She startled him with her question, and his eyes rounded then narrowed, his face suddenly devoid of any of the emotion she’d witnessed just moments before.

  “That is none of your business.”

  “Just as my past is none of your business.” She turned to leave. “You are my doctoris, and I am your gladiator.”

  He looked at her crossly. “And that precludes us from a friendship as well?”

  “I do not wish to be your friend.” That was both truth and lie. She feared the passion steadily growing between them with each passing hour. Cyrus was a distraction from her duty. She could ill afford his constant presence in her life because when she closed her eyes, she saw him, his naked body pressed to hers. No, she did not wish to be his friend, she wished for something more. Something she could never have with him. And that she wished it was the very problem.

  “I know what you are about,” he said when she began to walk away. He thought she was still angry. He thought she was hurling cruel words at him for what he’d done—words she did not mean.

  He was wrong.

  Aurora stopped to regard him from over her shoulder, her hair brushing against her back. As she looked at him, the whip still clenched in his grasp, she was reminded that she could not afford to get close to anyone, that she could trust no one. She was not there to befriend a single person, she was there to fulfill a single purpose.

  This time when she spoke, her tone was flat. “Trust me when I say you do not.”

  He had no idea what she was about at all.

  Chapter Four

  Cyrus stared after Aurora, his gaze slipping to her rounded hips, which swayed gently, rustling her tunica with every step she took. He bit back a groan as she sauntered away.

  It was a groan of frustration—mostly physical, but not entirely.

  For the briefest of moments, his mind conjured another woman.

  Beautiful, sweet, innocent Sorina with eyes as crystal blue as the Aegean, hair as golden as warm honey. The vision was fleeting. For it had not been Sorina’s face he’d imagined last eve as he’d held
his flesh within his palm, stroking himself until he’d spurted his seed against his woolen pallet.

  Wild topaz eyes.

  Silken copper skin.

  A mass of untamed, unruly, russet locks.

  He’d thought of Aurora, only Aurora as he’d found release yestereve, alone in his quarters, and it shamed him. He did not want to want her, but neither could he seem to cease the desires of his body. He had never wanted a woman so fiercely, not even Sorina, especially not Sorina. That revelation shamed him as well.

  Aurora was not a simple, uncomplicated woman. She was haunted by demons, by a bitter pain that threatened her soul. She carried secrets, many of them, her eyes were shadowed by nothing but secrets. What he’d witnessed earlier had been a purging, a violent, unrestrained purging of the soul. And still those same demons of the past would haunt her. He imagined she would never escape them.

  Cyrus’ heart stuttered, his gut fisting into knots as he trailed Aurora with his gaze—her head, her back, even her gate. Stiff and proud.

  Whatever Primus had said to her, done to her, had reopened a wound from her past, but it was Cyrus who’d wounded her pride— he’d stripped her of a piece of it when he’d struck her with his lash. Never mind, he’d had no choice—it did not matter, not to her, not even to him.

  He ran a hand down his face in frustration. He desired this woman, a woman he barely knew, with a fierceness that frightened him, that threatened every principle he had, including his very resolve.

  He started to leave the arena as a guard entered the open space. When Aurora came to a stop before the soldier, Cyrus’ brows furrowed together into a frown. He marched over to them, and his presence caused the guard to look up.

  “Dominus wishes to see you both.”

  He exchanged a quick look with Aurora.

  Undoubtedly, Claudius had heard of what had happened. Cyrus experienced a moment of fear for Aurora, for what she’d done.

  He moved to reassure her with his eyes, but she was already trudging forward.

  No—Aurora was not a simple, uncomplicated woman. She did not want nor did she need his reassurance. She would face Claudius’ wrath on her own. And yet he longed to comfort her, to assuage whatever fears she harbored. He longed to do so much more.

  With a strained sigh, he followed.

  He reasoned this promised to be torture of the worst kind—to want a woman who did not want him, to desire a woman he could never have.

  As Cyrus trailed after her, she could feel his eyes upon her, piercing her, boring through her tunica, past her resolves, straight to her soul.

  She imagined he stalked behind her, his face a rigid mask of pure, blatant, raw masculinity. Cyrus was not a classically handsome man, his features were chiseled, dangerous. He had a brutishness to him that made her insides quiver, that made her long to experience the power of him as only a woman could. He was a man of such wide sweeping contrasts, it made her breathless.

  He was no stranger to pain, but neither was he to tenderness. He’d touched her with a gentleness that caused her soul to ache. No matter she would never forgive him, she knew he was remorseful. In his eyes, she saw her pain, his desire to take it inside himself so she would not suffer from it.

  There was a softness to Cyrus, a kindness that had the power to do what none before him could—he threatened her heart. Even now, her skin still tingled, her cheek, her lips still burned with the fire he’d ignited with his caress. If she closed her eyes, she knew she would feel him again—his breath warming her face, his fingers sliding across her mouth. She wanted to feel him, longed to feel him, despite the wrongness of it, the impracticality of such a thing.

  She needed to forget him—banish him from her thoughts.

  One month had already passed, and she was no closer to accomplishing her mission, but Aurora was not deterred. When the opportunity presented itself, she would seize it. She simply had to be on guard for it.

  She did not anticipate she would be in Capena long, and the sooner she fulfilled her duty, the sooner she could return to her life and put Cyrus and the complicated nature of her attraction to him long behind her.

  The guard halting before Aurora jolted her back to the matter at hand. With Cyrus at her side, they stood in the atrium where they waited for Claudius to join them. He did so within moments, beckoning Cyrus over to him.

  Aurora’s entire body was rigid, her gaze steady upon them as they whispered amongst themselves.

  After what seemed like forever, Claudius finally looked up. With the nod of his head, he dismissed the guard behind her while Cyrus moved off to the side, just beyond Claudius’ right shoulder.

  Aurora noted that with interest. It would seem Claudius trusted his back to Cyrus, which only meant one thing. The meaning of it did not sit well with her. Her assignment had suddenly grown more complicated within the space of mere seconds.

  “You know why you are here.” Claudius drew her gaze with his words. “I have heard of what happened in the training arena this day.” She did not mistake the long sigh. “I never wish to lose a slave, because that is gold wasted.”

  Her heart plunged, and she experienced a moment of sorrow. Even though she did not like him, Primus had not deserved such a fate. Not since her days in the arena had she killed indiscriminately, and even then, she’d felt the deaths of those she’d been forced to slay. Every single one of them still haunted her—

  “I see the look upon your face.” Claudius waved a hand in the air dismissively. “But do not fret. Primus yet lives.”

  Aurora breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I am certain Cyrus must have shared with you that I care not about such things. This house trains fighters. That those within it should fight is a great thing.” He shook his fist, seemingly impassioned by his own words. “That I lose one ever so often is what happens in a place such as this. And I encourage it. Such brutality makes my fighters stronger, better. It leads to victory within the arena.”

  Aurora found it all distasteful, but she did not speak a word, and her expression did not reveal her inner derision. Human existence was worth more than blood and sport, not to be so casually dismissed as a consequence of a life that need not be brutal.

  “Primus still lives.” Claudius continued. “But he has no place within this ludus, and certainly not within the arena. Not if he can be so easily beaten.” Claudius’ eyes sparkled. “But you—you have secured your place within my ludus for which you shall be rewarded.”

  Aurora looked curiously at Cyrus who shook his head. This was a surprise to him, as it was to her.

  “Senator Balbus Flavian Vibius has returned to his villa here in Capena and has opened his home for a celebration two eves from this one to herald his arrival. Vibius has always shown great favor toward this house and the gladiatorial games. That is why I shall honor him with a coveted match—the champion of Capena alongside the champion of Aquileia.” Claudius’ eyes were almost rheumy with excitement. “Such a match will stir his guests. Perform well and they will demand your presence within the arena.”

  Aurora nodded graciously, her smile false as she thanked him for the honor. She held back a snort. It was not an honor, not at all.

  It was a spectacle, to parade her before Capena’s nobility as if she were a coveted prize. The only benefit to such an excursion was that she would leave this villa. Many things could happen along the way there, along the way back...

  Claudius had drawn closer to her, and his eyes now smoldered with an emotion which had not been there moments before. The look upon his face made her skin crawl, and the hairs along her arms rose. It was always like this for her.

  The initial distaste of being desired by one she was repulsed by. It would soon give way to determination, her sense of duty driving her passions.

  “There is one other detail of note.” Claudius’ pupils widened, his eyes a dull gray. “I have decided you shall fight nude.”

  Her attention snapped to Cyrus.

  “The both of you,�
� Claudius added.

  Aurora blanked her face, but Cyrus scowled darkly from over Claudius’ shoulder, his eyes boring into the man.

  “Every man shall be mad with lust and jealousy that you belong to me.”

  Aurora jerked at his words, then at his touch when his fingers grazed her face. She did not belong to him. She belonged to no one. It was his statement, more so than his hands upon her that fed her fury.

  It dawned on her then that she would never be able to stomach his hands upon her—which was a startling revelation that gave her pause.

  The women of The Order were trained to seduce. That was their duty—to disarm then dispatch. Aurora had never protested the touch of others in the past—it was her duty. Before she’d joined The Order she’d known what would be expected of her. She did not have to take the oath if she could not fulfill the tasks required of her.

  She’d taken the oath.

  Claudius’ hand inched its way across her shoulder, down the length of her arm, when he seized her breast, she gasped, revulsion coiling in the pit of her stomach. The touch of a man she did not desire should not have affected her this way.

  As if it had a mind of its own, her gaze searched deep within the shadows and found Cyrus. He stood beyond Claudius, his body rigid.

  Her blood chilled when Claudius’ lips began to kiss her neck, his hands fondling her in earnest.

  She did not take her eyes from Cyrus.

  She could not read him. His face revealed nothing. The only hint he possessed a single emotion was the throbbing vein, which jumped in his forehead.

  Cyrus had sought to kiss her earlier, and she’d pulled away.

  Claudius lifted his head, and for the moment she returned her attention to him. His lips hovered above hers, so close, his every breath stroked her chin.

  She could not kiss him, not when she’d denied Cyrus.

  Aurora shrank away, her hands already reaching for the hem of her tunica.

  “If I am to fight nude, would you not wish to view your wares before any other?”

  A fire leapt in Claudius’ eyes, the notion of seeing her naked distracting him from the fact she’d thwarted his purpose of kissing her.