Chapter 19
In the night, Velia lay beside Ferox. He was asleep on his side behind her, his arm curled over her middle. He’d been so solicitous all afternoon—everything from cleaning up the vase she’d shattered to gently bullying her into eating something despite her lack of appetite.
He’d also confided in her about his lost friend. Her heart still ached at the pain and guilt that had been raw in his voice. Now she understood why he’d required such convincing to return to the ludus, and why he was so determined to leave. This place must hold many painful memories for him.
Tonight, Velia had her own shadows to deal with. Every time she dozed off, she’d jerk awake, haunted by a flash of memory from earlier. Her mind kept running over and over the interaction with that man, trying to identify any clues she’d missed, warnings she should have heeded.
The stranger had seemed nice enough at first. He was looking for someone, and she’d been happy to give him directions. She’d noticed him leering at her, but plenty of men leered without ever doing anything further.
“How much do you charge?” he’d asked. “You’re a lupa, aren’t you?”
She’d been only mildly offended that he mistook her for a prostitute. If a woman was seen inside the walls of the ludus, she must be a slave, prostitute, or gladiator. “I’m not, actually.”
She’d turned to leave, but his hand closed around her upper arm.
“Well, if it’s free…”
Before she could react, he’d dragged her around the corner of the nearest building, into the narrow alley behind.
She knew she should fight, scream, kick—but her body was frozen, pinned between the man and the wall behind her.
Then suddenly the man appeared at her feet, blood all over his face. Ferox was there, and moments later, Achilles.
Now, hours later, her body didn’t seem to understand that she’d been saved. She could still feel the rough brickwork scraping her back through her dress, and her heart was still pounding.
She knew this brief, interrupted incident was nothing compared to what plenty of other women endured. Women who happened to go down the wrong street, or stay out an hour too late, or catch the eye of the wrong man. Or even be married to the wrong one.
Yet again, her mind went back to the moment before Ferox had intervened. In her imaginings, the incident played out as if he’d never arrived. She could feel the man’s hands on her skin, grasping, bruising. A shudder went through her.
Velia extricated herself from beneath Ferox’s arm, which, though limp with sleep, still felt as heavy as if it were made of concrete. She rose from the bed and paced her tiny bedroom.
She couldn’t escape the horrible possibility of what would have happened if Ferox hadn’t come, if he hadn’t noticed her disappear, if he’d arrived a few moments later.
The dark specter choked her, stoppering her breath.
Her stomach turned, and she pressed a hand to the bare wall, hoping its cool solidity would steady her.
It didn’t help.
Her mind was like a runaway cart, tumbling and crashing. She imagined the stranger overpowering her, forcing himself inside her, the tearing pain of violation.
What would her parents say if they knew about this? She could hear them clear as the sound of her own ragged breath. Only what you deserve, her father would spit. Her mother would nod. Act like a whore, get treated like one.
A sob escaped her lips.
Behind her, Ferox stirred. “Velia?” he mumbled. She heard his hands sweeping over the bed as if searching for her. “Velia?” he said again, his voice taking on a more urgent tone.
She found her voice. “I’m here.”
He rose from the bed, a hulking shadow in the dark. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said reflexively, but her voice trembled. “No,” she admitted.
His arms found her, clasping her shoulders. A hand slid up to caress her cheek.
She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. “I keep thinking…about what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. Hadn’t stopped it.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “I would sell my soul to Dis if it would buy you a moment of peace from such thoughts.”
The raw devotion in his voice took her breath away. Dangerous, she chided herself. You’re not supposed to be getting closer to him. Not when he’ll be gone before you know it.
But tonight, she didn’t care if Ferox was leaving in a day or a week or a month. She needed his steady comfort, his unwavering presence.
She wrapped her arms around him, and he returned the embrace, leaning his head down to press against her shoulder.
His touch soothed her, erasing the thoughts running rampant through her mind.
This was what she needed—a touch that was pleasurable instead of unwanted, someone she could trust with her body and her soul.
“What if there was something else you could do?” she asked. “At not so high a price.”
“Name it.”
She ran her hands over his shoulders, taking comfort in their warm solidity. “I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened. My mind just makes it worse and worse. I’m sure that doesn’t make any sense. I know I should be grateful.”
His fingers trailed over her back. “It doesn’t need to make sense.”
She tilted her head up to look at him, unable to make out much of his face in the midnight gloom. “I need you to make me forget. I want to replace my imaginings about what might have happened with something that did happen. But something good. Something I want. Do you understand?”
He said nothing for a moment. “Are you asking me to lie with you?”
“Yes,” she breathed. She moved backward, drawing him with her, until her back made contact with the wall. “Like this.” It was markedly similar to how she’d been with that man, pressed against a wall, unable to escape.
He hung back, putting a careful distance between them. “You really think that will help? It might distress you.”
“Then we’ll stop.” In the darkness, she found his hands and placed them on her waist. “You said you’d sell your soul to make me feel better,” she murmured.
“I’m asking for something far…smaller.” She put a teasing note into her voice as she slid her hand over his decidedly not small member.
He stiffened at her touch, even through the fabric of his tunic.
“Velia…” Desire warred with hesitance in his voice.
“It’s not so different from what you seek the night before your fights,” Velia said. “Coupling distracts you, doesn’t it? It soothes you. That’s what I want.”
His touch was the only thing that could wipe her mind clean of what had happened, that could truly bring her back to the here and now.
She hooked her leg around his, pressing their bodies even closer. For a moment, the closeness sent her straight back to the incident that afternoon, the panicked sensation of being pinned and helpless.
Ferox slid his hands up her sides, and the reverence in his touch returned her to the present. He lowered his head to brush her forehead with a kiss. “All right,” he said. “But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it my way.”
Before she could react, he was on his knees before her, gathering her skirt and lifting the fistfuls of fabric to her waist. “Hold this.” He grasped her leg and hooked it over his shoulder, opening her to him. Then, his mouth was on her.
“Oh!” Her hands clenched around the bundle of linen as sensation exploded between her legs. She quaked, and his hand found her hip, holding her steady.
He worked her with his mouth, sucking and tonguing and nibbling, until she was panting, writhing between his head and the wall. He slid one finger inside her, then another, and the fullness drove her even higher.
Yes, this was what she needed—a pleasure so strong it chased away every thought, every fear, everything but this present moment.
Ferox released her hip and lowered his hand to his lap. The whispery sound that followed made her realize he was stroking himself, and a shudder ran through her. His groan vibrated against her. The thought of his hand working his cock as he pleasured her with his mouth was too much to bear.
Her fingers sought his head, gripping his skull to hold him close as she shattered against his mouth. A cry burst from her lips as her body bowed and quivered.
“Yes,” he hissed, his fingers thrusting inside her. “More, Velia. Give me more.”
She wrung every bit of pleasure from him that she could, then fell back, gasping. He gently withdrew his fingers from her and rose to his feet. His arousal bumped her, and she reached for it, fumbling his tunic over his head to bare his body, though she couldn’t see much in the dark.
He made a low noise of need when her fingers slipped in the wetness dewing the head of his cock. “You still want this?”
“Yes. Now.” He had satisfied her physically, but she wanted more. She wanted all of him, everything he could give her. His ardor, his touch, his devotion—they would burn away the shadows of earlier.
She wasn’t entirely sure how the logistics would work, given the differences in their heights—but Ferox quickly solved that by lifting her off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and the pressure of his body held her against the wall.
“It feels wrong to want you like this,” he whispered, “but I can’t help myself.”
His words made dark pleasure bloom inside her. She tightened the clasp of her legs around him. “Take me.”
With a few adjustments of position, he rooted himself inside her. His hands grasped her bottom, effortlessly holding her up.
He let out a sharp sigh as she settled onto him. “Are you comfortable?”
She nodded. She was more than comfortable—she was swathed in blissful pleasure, enveloped in sensual delight. “But will you be able to hold me like this?”
He gave a raspy chuckle. “You weigh about as much as a feather pillow, and this won’t take long at all. Trust me.”
Velia giggled—and the noise quickly turned to a moan as he began to thrust. She could feel his need in the sharpness of each movement, but even so, she could tell he was holding back, setting a restrained rhythm.
She didn’t want his restraint, his control. She wanted him to lose himself inside her, as he’d just made her lose herself. “Harder,” she urged. “Faster.”
“You’re going to kill me,” he grunted, but obliged, setting a relentless pace that had her body jumping up the wall with every thrust.
She grasped his muscled shoulders and held on. “Well, you did offer me your soul, didn’t you?”
His movements became rougher. His fingers sank even harder into the flesh of her bottom, holding her tight to him.
She sensed he was getting close, and renewed the clasp of her legs around his hips. “I want you to spill inside me,” she murmured in his ear.
“No,” he groaned. “Don’t say that.”
“I have my herbs.”
“Still—too—risky,” he panted.
“But I want it,” she wheedled. “Think of how good it will—mmph!”
His hand found her mouth, fingers gently but firmly muffling her words. “You can’t talk if you’re going to say things like that.” His voice was unsteady, breathless as he drove into her, again and again, somehow still supporting her body with one arm.
She nipped him with her teeth. He grunted, but didn’t release his hand. She bit him harder, sinking her teeth into his finger.
“Fuck,” he hissed. A shudder wracked him, and he abruptly tore his hand from her mouth, pulling out of her as he exploded over the inside of her thigh. His hand grasped his cock, stroking hard and fast. He leaned his forehead against the wall with a deep groan.
Well. He’d foiled her plan to make him spill inside her, but she was fairly sure he’d just climaxed from her biting him. She tucked that piece of information away for further exploration.
Breathing hard, he helped her find her feet. Her legs wavered as soon as her feet touched the ground, and he slid an arm around her back to steady her.
Despite her body’s instability, her mind felt, for the first time in hours, calm. She’d been right to ask this of him. It had shaken her loose from the twisting anxieties that gripped her, had brought her back to herself.
She fetched a cloth from her chest of drawers, which she used to clean both of them. Then, they stumbled together to the bed, collapsed onto it, and finally, Velia fell asleep.