Seduced by the Gladiator(9)

The incredible hardness of his body would have been enough to attract many Roman women—in fact, I was certain that it did. But combined with the devastatingly handsome face—the sharp features, the long-lashed eyes, the full lips—and a woman did not have a prayer of staying removed.

I was no exception, though I would never admit that, not to anyone.

“Christus comes to us as the top-ranked gladiator from his house.” The words stirred something deep in my memory. The house of Manius—wasn’t their champion named Marcus? Or perhaps Caius? Not that I had met either man in the arena of late.

I shrugged irritably, not certain why I cared. It mattered not to me what position Christus had held in his former house, so long as he left me alone here.

I hoped, prayed that he would indeed do so. In my innermost self, I knew that was because I did not trust myself to do the same.

“He comes to us as highly ranked as you, Lilia. Until proven otherwise, he is due the same privileges that you receive.” At this my dominus narrowed his eyes at me, as if daring me to argue. I tilted my head to one side, feeling as though I was missing something.

Though it rankled to have someone ranked as highly as myself, it would take but time for me to best him, so I cared not what privileges were extended to him.

So long as they did not interfere with my own.

“You will share your quarters with the man.”

My mouth fell open, just a bit, as an onslaught of emotion ran through me like heavy rain.

I could not be so near to the man, not when he affected me so.

I could handle myself, but old feelings were still there. My dominus did not know this—I had never told him of the abuse that I had suffered, had not wanted him to see me as weak.

Tremors began to shake my limbs even as I opened my mouth to protest.

“Is that proper, Dominus?” I knew even as I spoke that I had no valid argument. I was a slave, and I would do as I was told, even if the idea of being at the mercy of a man while I slept sickened me to my core.

My master’s face reddened, and I knew that, favored pet or not, I had gone too far. He took a step toward me, his fist clenching tightly. I did not think that he would actually strike me, but in that moment I saw that I had angered him enough to want to.

“You live among men, bathe among them, sleep among them. As far as I am concerned, Lilia, you are one.” With a rough sweep of his arm, the man gestured to Ceres to take the bedroll into my quarters. His words hurt, but overshadowing that was a sensation of panic.

I would not be able to sleep with a man in the same room as myself—would not be able to make myself vulnerable. If I could not obtain enough rest, I would not perform well in the arena, and could lose my standing. Losing my standing meant that I would be moved back out to the general quarters, where every night and day would again become a struggle to keep violent hands off of my breasts and eager cocks from between my legs.

My life would become a nightmare. I would rather die.

None of this could be said to my dominus, not without a public punishment, one that would reinforce the weakness that Christus had cast over me today. So I bit my lip, hard enough to draw blood, and forced what I hoped passed for a smile to my lips.

“Apologies, Dominus.” Bowing my head, I focused a glare on Christus’ feet, which were inches away and clad in leather wraps, as mine were during the day. Memories of his kindly meant actions from earlier in the day flew from my mind as I felt the muscles in my body tense in preparation for an attack.

Attracted to him as I was, if he tried anything without my consent—and I vowed that I would not give it—I would cut off his cock at its root.

I remained as I was, staring at the floor, body tense until the entire party but for Christus had left, not moving even when my dominus pinched my chin in his fingers and bade me to be hospitable.

I saw Christus’ feet move toward me, then hesitate. Still refusing to look up, I fled to the depths of my quarters, not realizing until I was curled up on my bed that it was no longer a safe place—in fact, I had trapped myself.

Fisting my hands in my coarse sheet, I finally lifted my head, shaking the long ropes of my sun-bleached hair from my face. Christus walked into the room slowly, and his handsome face merged with those of a dozen others in my mind’s eye. The brave, strong Lilia who had risen from the ashes of the woman tormented by those faces crumbled, and I could not help but whimper, pressing my back flat against the cool stone wall.

This was supposed to be my safe place, where I could be the woman that I actually was, not the gladiator who had to fight her way through every day, proving herself worthy of standing among men.

Now that there was a man in this space, in my safe haven, the terror of years ago reached out and wrapped its tentacles tightly around my innermost self once again.