6. Chapter 6
Ferox couldn’t believe he was doing this—escorting Velia to a brothel so she could procure a woman for the irritating novice. In Ferox’s opinion, Achilles didn’t yet deserve such luxuries, but it was up to Velia.
And there was no way he could let her wander the city looking for a brothel on her own.
The streets were dangerous, especially for a small woman like Velia.
She’d be an easy target for thieves, and he felt unaccountably anxious with her by his side.
He needed to keep her close, needed to make it clear to any enterprising ruffians that she was under his protection.
As they left the ludus, he wrapped a hand around Velia’s upper arm and drew her alongside him. Dis, she was tiny. His fingers could encircle her entire upper arm.
“Keep a hand on your coin purse,” he warned her. The small bag was tied onto the sash around her waist, but a thief could slice it free all too easily.
She tried to yank her arm out of his hold. “Let go of me!”
“No.” He kept his grip secure, but not tight enough to cause pain.
She huffed. “I can look out for myself. I do run errands for my uncle around the city, you know.”
“You shouldn’t.” What was Lucullus thinking, sending his niece off on errands without protection? The city teemed with unsavory types who’d be all too quick to rob her—or worse.
He kept her close to him as they traversed the blocks toward the establishment Ferox knew.
He hadn’t had the inclination or the funds to seek female company since before he’d left the ludus, but he recalled this place from before.
Generally, he only sought a woman the night before a match, finding it the best way to distract from the nerves that plagued him no matter how many matches he fought.
As they walked, her shoulder bumped his chest. A flare of heat settled into his skin at the contact. He wanted to release her, to put some distance between them, but her safety was more important, so he dealt with the disconcerting warmth.
It had been a very long time since he’d touched a woman. He’d forgotten how soft their skin was. Hers felt like silk under his palm. He loosened his grip a touch, afraid he’d unintentionally hurt her. If her arm was this soft, he could only imagine what other parts of her might feel like—
He hastily jerked his mind away from such thoughts, focusing instead on navigating around a treacherous pothole.
They turned down a narrow, crooked street. A woman was selling roasted sausages at the corner, and the savory scent washed over him. After years of a mostly vegetarian diet, meat only made him ill, but it certainly smelled good.
Halfway down the street, they reached a building painted a faded red. Illustrations on the outer wall proclaimed the sort of place this was. Velia craned her head to look at them, but Ferox didn’t want to linger on the street. He pulled her through the door.
A woman in her forties sat at a table just inside the door. She rose to her feet when they entered, glancing from Ferox to Velia. He didn’t know her; the place must be under new management since the last time he’d visited, which was a blessing. He didn’t fancy being recognized.
“We’re not taking on any new girls,” the woman said to Ferox. “Full house at the moment, you see.”
He realized what she’d assumed, and he released Velia quickly. She glared at him, rubbing her arm with an exaggerated grimace.
“That’s not why we’ve come,” Velia said, addressing the brothel manager. “I want to hire one of your—your ladies, for my gladiator. For weekly visits to our ludus.”
The woman’s eyes returned to Ferox. “This gladiator? Wait a moment, I know you. You’re Ferox, aren’t you?” She moved out from behind the table and approached, a suggestive sway to her hips. “Any girl you want, half price. Just tell everyone this is your favorite lupanar.”
“Not him,” Velia clarified. “A different one.”
“Well, the offer stands,” the woman said, smiling enticingly at Ferox.
“Not interested,” Ferox ground out. Though some men might revel in special treatment like this, he hated it. These people didn’t care about him—they only wanted to be able to say that Ferox the gladiator was their best customer.
“Once you see my girls, you’ll change your mind,” the woman said. “One moment.” She gave him a sly smile, then disappeared into the back of the building.
Velia waited beside Ferox for the brothel manager to return.
She glanced around the room, curious. She’d never been inside a brothel, though one of her parents’ favorite insults to hurl was how she’d inevitably end up at a place like this.
Stupid whore, all you’re good for is spreading your legs, might as well earn some coin for it…
She shook off the memories and examined the space. The front room was small and sparsely furnished. No doubt patrons were not meant to linger here. A narrow hallway, down which the woman had disappeared, must lead to the private rooms.
The walls shone bright with fresh plaster, and the tile floor was swept clean. A few oil lamps flickered in niches along the walls, and the air bore the floral scent of some unknown perfume. All in all, it seemed like a decent establishment.
Ferox must have frequented this place before if he knew of it. Her stomach gave a lurch at the thought of him coming here, negotiating a price, disappearing down that hallway with some strange woman…
Velia cast a sidelong glance at him. He hovered in the doorway as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to make a run for it or not.
She could still feel the grasp of his hand on her arm from their journey here.
Somehow, he’d managed not to actually cause pain.
He must have been very careful to moderate his strength.
She remembered all too well the brutal, destructive force with which he’d destroyed Achilles’s wall. The incident still made her smile.
She recognized his overbearing actions as protection, and her flimsy protests had quickly died away when she realized she appreciated the warm, solid proximity of his body. A bit of manhandling was well worth it.
Four women, followed by the middle-aged manager, emerged from the corridor. The women arrayed themselves in a line before Velia and Ferox. They were all reasonably pretty, with bodies that appeared well-fed and healthy. That was good; Velia couldn’t have Achilles catching some malady from a woman.
They were also all ogling Ferox, batting their eyelashes and offering smiles that seemed to promise all sorts of licentiousness. One of them even allowed the shoulder of her dress to slip down, exposing an expanse of golden skin and the swell of a breast.
Velia narrowed her eyes. She stepped in front of Ferox to shield him from their gazes—not that she was large enough to block much of his body.
A sudden possessiveness rose within her, and she put her hands on her hips.
She could ogle her uncle’s gladiators as much as she wanted. These other women? Absolutely not.
The less time they spent here, the better. Velia turned her attention to choosing a woman for Achilles. But how? They all seemed, well, fine. Then, she remembered Achilles’s stated preference for large breasts.
Velia cleared her throat and pointed at the two slenderest women. “Not them. He’s requested, er, bosoms of a certain size.” Heat rose to her face. Maybe she shouldn’t have insisted Ferox come. This encounter was fast becoming the most embarrassing thing she’d ever had to undertake.
The two slender women shrugged and left, not without final lascivious glances at Ferox.
Velia took a hesitant step toward the two remaining women, trying to discern which of them had the bigger breasts.
“Is this what you want to see, love?” the one on the left said, and slid her arms out of her dress. It fell to her waist, exposing a decently large pair of bosoms.
Ferox made a strangled noise as the other woman did the same.
Velia’s face flamed. She was perfectly comfortable with her own body, but this was an entirely different situation. And with Ferox here as well—she wondered if it would be preferable for the ground to open up and swallow her down to the underworld.
But she had a task to complete. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. The left woman’s breasts were larger, but the right woman’s appeared rounder and firmer. Which was superior?
Maybe Ferox could make himself useful for more than just protection. He was a man, after all, and this situation clearly required a man’s opinion.
She turned around and found him staring grimly at his feet.
“Ferox,” she said. “Tell me which is better. For Achilles, I mean.” Both of the women were attractive enough, she supposed, but this wasn’t about her own opinion.
His gaze flicked up to her face before resuming its focus on the floor tiles. “No.”
“Oh, don’t be such a maiden,” she snapped. If she could stand to look at a few half-naked women, so could he. She poked him hard in the arm, which felt like jamming her finger into a marble wall. Ouch. “Tell me which you like better, and then we can leave.”
The promise of leaving must have been sufficient inducement, for he lifted his gaze to the two women for the barest moment. “That one,” he grunted, waving a hand in the vague direction of the woman on the right.
Velia exhaled in relief. She wasn’t entirely sure he’d even looked at the woman, but she’d take the excuse to be done with this encounter.
The brothel manager dismissed the two women. While Ferox waited, Velia negotiated a rate for weekly visits to the ludus from the selected woman. It cut into her profits more than she would have liked, but she hoped the investment would be worth it if it kept Achilles happy.
“There’ll be an extra fee if he leaves marks on her,” the woman warned, and Velia nodded in acceptance. She paid in advance for the first visit, and then she and Ferox were on their way.