The Roman's Revenge

by Caroline Storer

  “Oh Metellus, of course it has!” He saw the hurt on his mother's face as she looked up at him. “I knew what you were planning the moment I saw her. I remember Livia’s mother from when we were children growing up in Rome, and Livia is the spitting image of her.”

  In her distress she laid her hand on Metellus’s arm, the gesture one of pleading, “This is all about your desire for revenge isn’t it?” And not giving him a chance to respond she pressed on, “But why, Metellus? This has nothing to do with Livia. It is not Livia's fault who her father is. Metellus, you need to forget the past, for the sake of your marriage. If you don't, the hatred you feel inside will drive her away. Is that what you want?”

  For a long while Metellus didn’t answer her. Instead he walked over to the window and stared with sightless eyes out into the darkness beyond. He heard the soft silk of his mother’s gown as she came up beside him. Once again she placed her hand on his forearm.

  “Please stop with this madness, Metellus,” her tone was soft, pleading as she tried to get through to her son. “Will your desire for revenge bring your father back? No it won't. Livia is the innocent party here. She has nothing to do with the past. A past which has festered within you for too long now. Beware of revenge, Metellus. It can sometimes twist around and bite you when you least suspect it. And bite hard.”

  Metellus said nothing as he listened to his mother speak. She had been saying more or less the same thing to him for the past ten years, ever since he had told her he intended to atone for his father's death. His mother wanted him to forget the past, to put it behind him. But he couldn't. The day of his father's arrest and subsequent execution was indelibly branded on his brain, buried so deep inside him that it could never be dislodged. Never.

  It was something he would never forget, and he’d promised to avenge his father’s death – even if it took him a lifetime to do so.

  “Livia doesn't deserve this,” Antonia repeated, breaking the silence between the two of them, “She is an innocent-”

  “Enough, mother. This does not concern you.” His words were harsh, and guilt made him lash out. Even though he knew she spoke the truth, he refused to be distracted from his life’s chosen course. Yes, Livia was the innocent party, but nonetheless she was a Drusii.

  He heard his mother's sharp intake of breath at the abruptness of his voice; and this time he moderated his tone. He didn’t want to argue with her, but she needed to know in no uncertain terms that he was not going to back down. “My marriage to Livia is my business, and mine alone. I would be grateful if you could respect that.”

  And, before she could say anything more, he walked out of the room without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER 16

  The dream was one of the best she had ever had.

  Feather light kisses trailed slowly over her face, came to rest for a brief moment on her closed eyelids, before they once more made their way over the smoothness of her face, down until they reached the throbbing pulse in her neck.

  Livia arched in response to the silent demand of that mouth…and the silent demand of it was everything she had waited for.

  For an eternity it seemed.

  She felt as if she were floating in warm water, as warm lips soothed and caressed her skin. The sensations were wonderful, sublime, and she never wanted them to end. Every nerve ending she possessed fired into life when the mouth finished its exploration of her neck and moved downwards, with infinite slowness, to the deep valley of her collarbone. She could taste and smell the heady scent of warm male skin, and her hands lifted upwards without conscious thought.

  A smile stole over her face, and with a feather light touch she let her fingertips roam over male shoulders, feeling every sinew and muscle bunching and flexing beneath her hands. She felt strong hands slide around, and under her back, lifting her, making her back arch off the bed so her body moulded against warm, male flesh.

  Her nipples hardened, pushed against the silk of her gown as they made contact, and a small moan of pleasure escaped when the wet heat of his mouth found one of them. She grew hot and feverish as he suckled her, and her hands lifted to the back of his head, pulling him even closer to her if that were possible. His mouth moved to the other breast, suckling, biting, nipping, demanding a response from her, and heat pooled into her lower belly, pulsed right through her, bringing her body to life.

  Time became suspended. Oh, he was good. So very good this dream lover of hers. His mouth knew exactly what to do to bring her to the precipice, and when his mouth left her breasts and descended lower, she became nothing more than a molten mass of hot seething emotions.

  His mouth came to rest at the top of her thighs where the silk of her night gown had bunched. His hands slipped underneath, pushing the fabric ever upwards allowing him access to her body, the callouses on his fingers scraping across her sensitised skin, as the coolness of the night air caused her to shiver in delicious anticipation. She groaned as his mouth found the bare skin of her stomach, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin, her body arching and writhing, desperate to communicate her desire for him without words. She never wanted this dream to end. She wanted it to last forever. This was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Well, not since the time on the island when-

  The island! Reality returned and crashed around her, and her eyes flew open. This wasn't a dream. This was now, and she stiffened, unsure what was happening.

  “Quiet now, there is no need to be afraid.”

  Metellus’s words reverberated in the stillness of the darkened bed chamber. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to shadowed darkness, and when they did she swallowed hard. Metellus was leaning over her, his arms braced on either side of her hips, so close she could feel the heat of his body. She tried to sit up, but she couldn’t. Instead she placed a hand on the hard expanse of muscle on his chest and pushed him away.

  Or tried too. But the hard muscular wall refused to move, and Livia's eyes met his as he loomed over her, unyielding, unmoving.

  “It's too late, Livia. Far too late.”

  She heard the huskiness in his voice, the passion, the intensity, and she watched mesmerised as he inched upwards before his mouth descended towards hers.

  “No. No I don't want this.” She heard the desperation in her voice, but knew it was futile.

  “I think you do, Livia. I think you do.”

  And then his lips met hers, the coolness of them re-affirming those feelings she’d experienced a few minutes ago. And of their own free will her eyes closed and her mouth opened, and as if by tacit agreement he kissed her hard, stamping his authority, his lips firm, demanding against hers. His tongue plundered the softness of her mouth time and time again and there was nothing her traitorous body, and mind, could do about it.

  And as he kissed her with an intensity which was frightening, as well as exciting, she realised he was right. She did want this. She did want him, and a pang of longing assailed her.

  She heard the silk of her night gown rip, as Metellus, impatient for her, tore it away from her body, revealing all of her nakedness to his eyes.

  “Yes,” he hissed, “Open yourself for me. Give yourself to me,”

  Livia, no longer able to resist him, did as he bid. She arched her back to give him full access, gloried in the feel of his mouth as it trailed down her neck to find the aching fullness of her breasts once more. He suckled, laved, worshipped them, until she was no longer able to deny him anything, and when, with a firm but gentle movement of his knees, nudged her thighs apart, and slid into her wet warmth, she couldn't help the small cry of pleasure which escaped from her mouth.

  “Let yourself go, Livia,” Metellus whispered against the softness of her neck, his teeth nipping and biting the delicate skin. The sensations were such that they were part pleasure, part pain. She was vaguely aware he would leave his mark on her neck, visible for all to see, like some brand of possession, but she was too far gone to care, too caught up in the sheer hedonistic pleasure his mou
th and body were inflicting on her.

  His hips started to move, pushing him further, deeper inside her; the motion demanding a response from her, and with an uninhibited movement she lifted her legs, wrapping them around him, the movement pulling him deeper into her body, giving him the pleasure he sought as well. She heard him groan, and the rocking of his body grew intense.

  The powerful thrusting brought her to the edge of sanity, and she tried to hold onto the wonderful feelings coursing through her body - greedy for it all – greedy for more - But then she fell apart in his arms, unable to hold back as wave after wave of ecstasy slammed into her, carrying her away with the intensity of her orgasm. Her body pulsed around his erection, milking him and she watched in stunned fascination as Metellus, too, lost control.

  Watched as he flung his head backwards, his teeth bared, the corded muscles of his throat straining as his body convulsed deep inside her, as he too found the ultimate release his body craved. He was, at that exact moment, man at his most primitive, and it made her feel powerful that she had made him so.

  It was only when her heart had returned to some sort of normality, that she finally met his eyes. He was staring at her with an intensity that went bone deep, causing Livia to shiver. He felt it, and she watched in fascination as his eyes narrowed. His body was still intimately joined with hers, his weight heavy as he lay fully on top of her. For a long moment he didn’t move but then he lifted himself up with his arms, the muscles bunching as he did so, and started to withdraw from the warmth of her body, slow by slow inch, watching her all the while as he did so. It was such a personal moment, designed to show her it was his right to be here in their bed.

  Livia licked her lips, unable to look away, as he moved off her. She thought he might leave her now, leave the bedroom, now he’d had her body, but he didn’t. Instead he levered himself away from her, and lay down next to her, propping himself up on one elbow to watch her.

  Neither of them said anything for a long time, and it wasn’t until he broke eye contact with her, and swept his gaze over her naked body that she realised what he wanted. Surely he didn’t want her body again? So soon after… But the heat and hunger in his eyes gave him away.

  Unsure what he wanted from her, she lifted the thin silk sheet, her movements jerky, as she covered her breasts to hide herself from him. But as the silk grazed her erect nipples, she was reminded that her breasts were still sensitised after the recent onslaught of his mouth.

  “What do you want of me?” she finally managed to whisper.

  He didn't answer for a long time, before he drawled, “You. I want you. You are my wife, and it is my right.”

  His voice was measured, controlled, without emotion and Livia bristled at the tone. Gone was the passionate man who’d shared himself with her only minutes ago, now replaced by a cold hard stranger. And once again she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces.

  “Right? I don't-”

  “I want a son, Livia. You will give me a son,” he said, interrupting her faltering words.

  “No.” The word was forced past the tightness of her suddenly dry throat, and her eyes widened when she saw the hard resolve on his face. “You married me for revenge. Only for revenge. You never said anything about children-”

  “I want a son, Livia,” he repeated, “And you will give me one.”

  She closed her eyes, pain lancing through her. Was this the way it was going to be between them? A marriage which was nothing but a battleground?

  Her eyes snapped open, meeting his watchful gaze. “I am not a brood mare, Metellus…to…to be serviced by you so you can fulfil your sick desire for revenge.” And with that, she jumped out of the bed, swept the thin silk cover off the bed, and wrapped it around her naked body. Without a backward glance and purposeful strides she walked over to the door with the intention of leaving the room and sleeping with Elisha if she had to.

  But she wasn't quick enough. She had only made it halfway across the room when she felt his hand grip her upper arm, spinning her around so she faced him. With his other hand he held onto her waist, pulling her into the hardness of his naked, and aroused body.

  “You will stay in this room with me, Livia,” the words were brisk, commanding, and not to be disobeyed. “You will sleep in this bed, with me, every night until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”

  Livia didn't answer him, instead she tried to pull away from him, but it was futile, his grip didn't loosen on her arm, or her waist, and she didn’t have the strength to pull away. Righteous anger surged through her, but she refused to be dominated. Looking up into his closed face she spat, “Oh I understand all too well, Metellus. I just hope you know what you are doing.”

  At her words he stepped back, releasing both her arm and her waist before walking without a backward glance back to the bed.

  By letting her go, he was asserting his authority over her. She recognised the power games being played out between them, her eyes unable to look away from the perfection of his muscular back, his taut buttocks and long firm legs before he leapt back onto the bed. With a mocking smile, he sat up against the ornate headboard, uncaring that he was still naked, before he patted the empty space next to him.

  The action was deliberate, designed to set the ground rules between them. For several long moments she stood there, wondering if she should refuse him, thwart him. But she knew the reality of disobeying him, antagonising him. He would only come and get her from wherever she ran. So, with a shrug of indifference she was far from feeling, she walked back to the bed and climbed in beside him. For several minutes she lay there flat on her back, staring up at the bronze rafters high in the ceiling, her body stiff and unyielding, wondering what Metellus would do next.

  But after a few minutes of silence, she heard his deep and even breathing. Her head whipped around, and her eyes took in what her ears had not quite believed. Metellus was fast asleep!

  Should she defy him? Leave the room and sleep with Elisha? But she had the strange feeling, that even though he was fast asleep, if she left the room he would somehow know and wake up. So, instead of bolting from the room, she turned away from his sleeping form, unwrapped the silk sheet from around her body and pulled it up to her chin willing herself to fall sleep. Surprisingly, the deepness of Metellus's breathing seemed to act as a soothing balm to her sensitised nerves, and she felt her eyelids close, as fatigue, caused by the excesses of a long day and night finally caught up with her. Within minutes she was asleep.

  Livia opened her eyes, watching as the sunlight filtered in through the open window, casting shadow and light in equal measure. For a moment confusion addled her brain. Surely the sun didn't shine so brightly in her bedchamber at this time in the morning? Then reality dawned, and she sat bolt upright in bed. Of course! She wasn’t in her father’s villa anymore, she was at Metellus’s farm and she was in his bed!

  With a quick jerk of her head she glanced to her left, and saw with a small measure of relief, that Metellus wasn’t there. Her hand reached out, her fingers tracing the indentation of where his head had rested on the silk pillow beside her, and she had to fight the urge to lift it to her face and smell the unique scent of him.

  Groaning, she flopped back down on the bed staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, as her mind relived the events of last night. There was no denying they had given each other pleasure, immense pleasure, and a sudden flush of heat covered her whole body.

  Well, it very much looked like she would have to remain in this bed every night if Metellus had meant what he’d said last night. His orders has been clear enough. She was to provide him with a son.

  And then what? Would she be free to leave? Surplus to requirements? “It’s not right,” she said out loud in the stillness of the room, “Not right at all.” But what could she do about it? “Nothing,” she whispered, “Nothing at all…”

  Her mind whirled in confusion as she remembered all they had shared last night. Their lovemaking was every bit as good as i
t had been on the island. More so, if the truth be told, as a soft bed was a lot more comfortable for making love on, than a thin cloak on the hard ground outside their cave! But it wasn’t just the comfort of a soft bed either. Their lovemaking last night had been more intense, more emotional, more everything, than what they had shared that first time.

  So why give her passion, when he could just as easily take? Surely, if he wanted revenge against her, and more specifically her family, he could just take her, use her, and not care one bit if she found pleasure in his arms or not? She blew out a puff of air in vexation as she realised she didn’t have any answers or explanations for any of the questions she had just posed to herself.

  Metellus was, she realised, a man of many contradictions, and a man of many complex layers. She’d heard horror stories of women marrying their husbands, only to find themselves treated abominably by them. Beaten, half starved to death, and some had even been killed at the hands of their husbands. The Emperor Nero had murdered his wife hadn’t he? And if that wasn't bad enough, some husbands had even killed their new born babies. Livia was well aware of the tradition which allowed men to either reject, or accept, a new-born child, literally having the power of life or death over them. But Metellus had shown nothing but kindness when it came to Elisha. He could easily have got rid of the baby – exiled her somewhere - as Flavius had threatened to do.

  Elisha had been lucky. Metellus had accepted her without a qualm, and she knew she should be grateful for that. Not many men would have been as forgiving as he had been.

  Thinking of the baby, or more specifically, their baby, Livia couldn't stop a shiver of apprehension. Metellus wanted a son - and soon by all accounts. But she hadn't told him of her fears about becoming pregnant – or rather the actual act of childbirth itself.