Seduced by the Gladiator (7 page)

I bit on my tongue and tasted metal as I drew blood. Irritated with myself, I slammed my wooden bowl down onto the table. The porridge inside was thick enough that it did not move, and I wrinkled my nose with distaste.

“Water?” Darius offered me his cup, not commenting on my foul mood, though I knew that it was quite apparent. Silently I accepted the cup, then slid the bowl with my rations across the table toward him.

Being touched by Bavarius had stolen my appetite.

I saw the man watching me from across the dining hall. I made a show of appearing relaxed, willing my muscles one by one to release their strain.

From the cocky grin on the other man’s face, I had not succeeded in convincing him.

“Ignore him.” Though Darius was my closest friend—my only friend—at that moment I did not want company at all. What I wanted was to secure myself in the baths, alone, to scrub away the taint of Bavarius’ touch. I did not want to be fussed over, not even by Darius. If the big man had had his way, he would have tried to coax me from my mood by joining me in the bath for the sole purpose of splashing me and making me smile. He would have insisted that I wash away the grit and grime of the sun and sand, and that I then go to the ludus’ medic for a massage with scented oils.

This, I knew, was my due, as the highest-ranked gladiator in the wealthy ludus. Truly, at that moment the only benefit that I wanted was to be left alone.

I did know where Christus was at that moment, and I tried to convince myself that I did not care.

It rankled that, despite my best efforts, I did care. Angry at the thought, I nodded curtly to Darius, then shoved away from the table, leaving my cup behind. I could not stand even being in the same room as the other men, the ones who had once used me like a common whore.

Pacing, tense, I made my way outside, to the training yard. Despite the long day that I had spent in the sun, I shivered.

The setting sun nearly blinded me, its rays streaming in white stripes straight into my face as it began to descend for the evening. I had spent even longer in its light today, and my skin was singed. I felt the heat suffuse my flesh but ignored the sting.

I had felt worse.

Most of the men had gone inside the dining hall of the gladiators’ quarters, upon which the great stone house that the pater familias inhabited was built. It was time for our evening meal, porridge and army bread, which to outsiders seemed like very little after our fierce work all day but was, in fact, our recommended diet.

Only one remained on the sand. I watched silently and, I was certain, unobserved as Christus worked his training sword against one of the giant bags of sand, as if it were a person—an enemy.

Where did his anger come from? Though he was new to our ludus, I knew that he had been a gladiator for nearly as long as I had—he should by now have accepted his fate. But watching his actions as he battled an invisible opponent, I saw quite clearly that the man I was watching felt constrained, imprisoned.

Alone, thinking himself unobserved, Christus released a ferocity that was unrivaled in our ludus—he seemed to be untainted by mercy, something that even I myself could not claim.

He should not have been so attractive, not when violence twisted his features as it did. In the fading evening light, the hair that lay cropped close to his head shimmered with the colors of honey, of nuts, and especially of flame, all teased out of the dark black. It was beautiful hair, or would have been had it sat on the head of any man besides himself. No, this warrior was not beautiful. He was too large, too fearsome . . . too damaged.

I was not sure where that last observation came from, but I knew that he would not welcome it. So I bit my tongue, remained quiet, and continued to watch.

As much of an irritation as his presence was to me, his form still pleased my eye, even more so when it was in motion, as it was right now.

The realization sent something not entirely unpleasant skittering over my skin. I bit my lip as I admitted to myself that the man made me want, made me desire, and as I attempted to swallow that morsel, the man himself looked up, saw me watching.

He looked beyond me quickly, toward the dining area, then shook his head in my direction, meaning, I thought, that I would be ill in the mind to disturb him. My eyes narrowed, and stubbornness had my mind made up to challenge him to a round or two.

He might have been bigger, but I was not the highest-ranked gladiator in this ludus for nothing.

Turning his back to me as if I did not exist, Christus deliberately resumed his sport. Even through my ill humor, I struggled when trying not to notice the way the sheen of sweat brought on by the physical exertion emphasized the raw strength that he held in his arms, his legs.

“Are you trying to prove yourself worthy of this brotherhood, Christus of House of Manius?” I recognized the oil that floated on the words before I saw Bavarius step onto the sand. The heat that the granules had absorbed during the day rose around the man’s feet in waves, and once again I thought that he seemed to represent pure evil. I recoiled physically, though I knew that he could not touch me where I stood, half hidden in the growing shadows of the balcony. Though the words spoken were muffled, I heard the derision and lack of respect that Bavarius laced his words with.

I saw Christus’ spine stiffen, just the smallest fraction—I was certain that even Bavarius himself, who stood close to the man, did not see that his own words had driven home. Christus finished his game, then rose to his full height and faced the much smaller man.

“Just some sport, Bavarius.” He let his training sword fall to his side, but did not leave. “Training is done for the day.”

“Why do you feel you need extra sport, extra training, new
brother
?” Bavarius was clearly trying to antagonize, and I saw again that slight stiffening in the otherwise rod-straight spine of Christus. “Is it that a woman stands to hold the title of champion? Do you not feel yourself equal to our Lilia?”

I should have been pleased, perhaps, by the offhanded compliment. I knew that words that fell from Bavarius’ lips, however, contained vinegar rather than honey. I could not trust anything that he said—and I found that I did not care for the insult to Christus.

“Am I not permitted to do as I wish in my free time, Bavarius? Do you begrudge me that?” Christus did not make reference to the insult, instead speaking far more calmly than he ever had to anyone else, that I had seen.

“On the contrary, new brother.” Bavarius stepped closer still, closer than was normal, and the invasion of space was yet another insult. I expected Christus to strike him, to reach for the sword that still hung at his hip. “You have not yet gone through the rites of passage, have not been initiated into our brotherhood, no matter how much the dominus has paid for you. You should take all the practice that you can, for soon enough you will be tested.”

Christus did not move. He spoke instead, and his words were deadly calm.

“Very well.”

Christus turned to face the stocky man who challenged him. The shadows cast over Bavarius’ face made him look like the spawn of the underworld.

Bavarius feinted forward, hoping, it seemed, to make Christus flinch. When the newer gladiator did not move even a whisper, the glower on the shorter man’s face became yet more pronounced.

“I can make your life here hell.” Spittle flew as Bavarius spoke, spraying into the air like drops of poison.

Christus allowed the merest sneer to curl his lips before finally, slowly, raising that sword. I watched, fascinated, as the shadows that were so unflattering to Bavarius served only to accentuate Christus’ muscles.

“The dominus has reassured me that he demands no rite of passage upon entrance to his ludus, no trials, no branding.” Absently he rubbed his forearm, and when I squinted, I saw a faded section of skin that may have one such marking. “Any rite that you speak of must be of your own devising. Very well; let us get on with it. I will undertake whatever trial you set before me, if it means only that you will cease with your incessant chatter.”

There was no such trial; this I knew firsthand. This was an open challenge from Bavarius, but he had been a fool to issue it at that moment, alone on the sand with Christus. Bavarius was brave only when he had a half-dozen cronies to back up his words, his muscle.

He would never have intended to face off with a man who, from the look of it, could best him in under a minute.

While I was the top ranked in the ludus, Bavarius hung somewhere in the middle. If challenged one on one, even I would not be scared of him, though I was a fraction of his size.

Bavarius seemed to be taken aback. “It is mealtime, new brother.” He cast an uneasy look toward the area where the men ate, which had a roof but was free of walls. Though the food was not overly appetizing, I knew that for a glutton such as him, not being able to finish his meal would be a major punishment.

He should have thought of that before interrupting his dinner to taunt Christus.

My own stomach grumbled, empty and craving nourishment, though at that moment I did not think that I could force down even a bite. I would regret it tomorrow, but Bavarius had so upset me that I had not been able to eat.

The smaller, unctuous man continued, seeming not to like the direction in which the encounter had gone. “Surely you need to eat, yourself.”

Christus allowed a thin, humorless smile to cross his lips, one that I could see, even across the distance.

I saw his head turn in my direction, just the slightest bit, and I only noticed because I was watching for it. He remembered that I was there, and I was just as certain that he had not forgotten that something had passed between me and Bavarius earlier than day.

I saw that he meant to teach the man a lesson on my behalf. Part of me raged at that—why was the man always feeling the need to take care of me? Part of me, however, thrilled at it.

Bavarius had a lesson coming, and if he learned it without me having to touch him, then all the better.

“As you have pointed out to me, I will not be a full member of this brotherhood until I have fulfilled your
rite
.” Christus tapped the sword against the large palm of his hand, the worn wood slapping harshly against the hard flesh. “I cannot imagine a world without you as my brother, so let us commence.”

The sarcasm dripped from his words like sludge.

I could not hold back—I had never been the most patient of creatures. Also, I wanted to take part in his comeuppance, and this was different than simply having Christus defend me from an attack. So I thawed the muscles that had been frozen in place and strode out onto the sand, but not before grabbing another training sword from where they rested at the side of the mock arena.

Bavarius opened his mouth, likely to argue, but stopped short when he saw me coming. I slapped the training sword into his hand and forced a grin onto my face. “Enjoy your lesson.” Though I wanted to strike at the man myself—he brought forth a blood lust unlike anything that I had ever felt in the arena—I stepped back to the perimeter of the sand to watch.

I thought I saw the corners of Christus’ mouth quirk up in the barest whisper of a smile—the first that I had seen on his lips. Then it was gone. Inhaling deeply, he stalked away from Bavarius, then spun and bent at the knees, his sword outstretched. He did not seem at all concerned about losing this match and consequently losing the respect of the men, nor did he seem to feel fear. Still, I saw the same concentration that I myself felt when in a fight.

Training sands or arena, cockiness led to injury and even to death. I approved of the caution that I saw on his side of things. He was tensed to fight, even if only with wooden swords, the fierceness that made him appear so strong a gladiator held in every fiber of his flesh.

It took no more than a minute for him to charge the smaller man, who still seemed surprised and unprepared, and who placed show into his fight and not skill, something the doctore had never been able to work out of him. I was drawn to the strength that Christus showed as he easily evaded his opponent’s charges. The power in Christus’ movements, the way in which his body moved, forced heated thoughts into my mind.

By the time Bavarius knelt on the sand, Christus’ wooden sword at his throat, many of the men had brought their bowls of lumpy porridge and hunks of hard army bread outside, and were jeering and cheering in equal measure.

Bavarius looked up at Christus, and I could see the hatred in his eyes. Christus stared back with complete calm, allowing the other man time to think that their match was done, that Christus would leave him be now.

It hit me in that moment, a thought that sickened me. Christus, in that moment, appeared to dominate the ludus, and he did so in a way that I never had.

It forced bile to rise in my throat, but I wondered momentarily if allying myself with him, of all the men, could finally bring me the security that I was forced to fight for daily.

I entertained the notion for no more than a moment. To throw myself at Christus for the strength that he displayed—no matter how attracted I was to it—would make me no better than a whore. With that decided, I knew that that same dominance was a threat to my well-being.

What if he were to become the top-ranked gladiator in our ludus? Would I be thrown into quarters with the other men? Would I again be seen as weak, a target that could easily be taken advantage of?

I did not like the idea of relying on a man for security, and knew that, should Christus ever leave this ludus, it would fall back upon me tenfold. But at that very moment, the thought of just being left alone, blessedly at peace, to live my life as a gladiator, was more than I could turn away.

Striding purposefully across the sand, I moved behind Christus and placed a hand on his arm. The gesture was meant to show solidarity, but I felt the heat generated between our flesh, a heat that made my breath catch.

“You little cunt.” Something wild flashed through Bavarius’ eyes when he saw me, something that I had not anticipated. I knew that I brought out a deep anger and resentment in the man, but in that moment the resentment seemed like something darker and more dangerous. With these feelings clearly displayed on his face, Bavarius seemed to snap at the sight of me. Though I tensed and crouched defensively the second that I detected movement, the man had his sword in hand and landed a blow before I managed to again bring him to his knees.