Seduced by the Gladiator(62)

“I am a slave, and I will never be free. I know this.” The girl’s voice was soft, and I found myself wondering what her story was, for we all—we slaves—had one. “But I am not submitted to the bloodthirsty citizens of Rome for entertainment. I know that that is what you do as gladiators—that is what you are. But . . . I do not think that it is right to send two people in love into the games. Love is rare, and too precious to be wasted.”

With those final words, she urged us past the opening, and down onto the steps. “You will find candles on the ledge. Now go.”

The girl left us alone then, the slave whose name we did not know. Her selfless kindness brought me close to tears, as did the knowledge that her words had slammed home.

Love. Yes, that was exactly it. I loved Christus.

How either of us were supposed to face the next day with the knowledge of that hanging over our heads, I did not know.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




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It was dark in between those rocks. Incredibly dark.

“Come with me.” Christus took my hand, though how he found it in the dark I did not know, and tugged, just the tiniest bit.

Though I was not certain that I would be able to relax with the knowledge of the games looming over my head, I was still strangely fascinated by the unexpected gift that the slave girl had given us. I opened my mouth to say this to Christus, but my words were cut off.

“Wait a moment.” I heard a soft rustling, as if Christus was undoing his clothing. Then his fingers touched my temples, and I felt something soft covering my eyes, something that smelled like leather—one of the ties from his subligaculum, I thought. I jolted as the last hint of my vision in the darkness was removed and was fairly certain that I heard a laugh, just a little one, from him. I understood then that it was important for Christus to give me this, this moment away from the stress and strain of the games.

He touched my hand with his, and without much choice in the matter, I followed him, through the crevice of rock.

Every other time that Christus had touched me, I had been swamped with warring spears of lust and what I now realized to be love. What I felt now, as he twined his fingers in mine, was comfort. Camaraderie.

It was nourishing as ambrosia from the gods, and I drank it in greedily.

Still, I felt a bit uneasy. Surely Gaius would know where we had gone, and would come to search for us soon. The more I thought on it, however, the more I ceased to care.

What would he do if he caught us? What could he do that was worse than what he had already planned?

I would savor these last few moments with my lover. The thought of how I wanted to spend them turned my own cheeks bright red under the soft folds of the worn leather.

“How much farther?” I needed to fill the silence, which was thick with something I did not quite recognize.

I could imagine his smile at my impatience. Whatever he was going to show me, I was going to love it, simply because he wanted me to.

“Let me guide you.” This was whispered in my ear, from behind me, and the shivers that the sensation of breath on my tender lobe caused thickened when I felt hands on my waist, guiding me forward. He could not have known where we were going any more than I did, but he at least could see.

“Step.” Feeling the way blindly with my right foot, I measured the distance and tentatively took a step down, onto a stair.

“Step.” Again. And again. Thirteen steps in all, and when I could stop concentrating on where my feet landed and on the distraction of Christus’ hands clasped firmly at my waist, I registered the sound of water, just the tiniest of ripples.

I felt the moisture in the air.

“Stay here for a moment.” That moisture sizzled and popped moments after Christus’ hands had left my waist, and a blood orange flame flared to my left, visible even under the blindfold. I pulled at the leather, pulled it down around my neck, and freed my eyes. I saw that Christus had begun to transfer the flame from the single taper that the nameless slave had given us to a multitude of other candles. Scores of fat, half-melted white pillars were placed at various places in the cavern. They were covered in a thick layer of dust, dust that crackled as it was eaten away by the flame.

How long had it been since someone had been here? Carved into the wall of rock was something that looked like an altar, and words that I could not read were inscribed into the wall above it. The very air around us pulsed—this place was holy, full of magic.

It would take a man like Gaius to hold ownership of it and ignore it completely.

Soon Christus had all of the candles lit, and though I missed the romance of the shadows around us, the candles cast a warm, tawny light over everything that was very nearly as beautiful. Even if it had not, the expression on Christus’ handsome, finely honed face held traces of shyness and also a layer of excitement. Seeing it made my insides warm.