Chapter 28
Velia eyed her bed doubtfully. Night had fallen, but she hadn’t yet extinguished her lamp. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, the night before Ferox and Achilles fought to the death, and there seemed to be little point in trying.
Dread had been pooling in her stomach all day, steadily intensifying until it felt like it gripped her with a dozen pairs of grasping, crushing hands.
No matter what happened tomorrow, it would be the worst day of her life.
Her gaze shifted to the door, her thoughts turning to Ferox. She’d been trying to summon the courage to go to him since dusk. Surely, they couldn’t spend this night apart.
But she must be more of a coward than she realized, for the prospect of seeing him terrified her. It was the reason she’d stayed away from him these past few days. She feared the pain and grief it would bring, feared being broken under their weight. What was she even to say to him?
Perhaps he didn’t want to see her. He’d been avoiding her too, after all. Perhaps seeing her would cloud his judgment tomorrow, would weaken him.
She sat on her bed but jumped up a moment later as nervous energy propelled her to pace her tiny room.
Just open the door and walk to his room, she urged herself. You’ll regret it forever if you let him leave or die without spending this last night with him.
She took one step toward the door—and then the sound of a knock stopped her in her tracks.
She forced herself into motion, found the handle of the door, and pulled it open.
Ferox stood in the corridor. She couldn’t see his face in the shadows, but before she could stammer a greeting, he was inside her room.
The door swung shut behind him. His arms encircled her, pulling her into a desperate, greedy embrace.
She didn’t have to see his face to feel the need in his touch.
She clutched at him. Maybe she shouldn’t have worried about what to say to him. Maybe tonight, the time for words was past.
He pressed her backward until his body pinned her against the wall. Her head spun with desire, mounting quickly in a hot rush over her skin. Their lips met in a hard, urgent kiss.
He pulled away after only a moment. “Velia,” he growled, his hands gripping her waist. “I warn you, I don’t have gentleness in me tonight. So if you want me to leave, tell me now.”
Tonight, she wanted everything he could give her. She wanted his roughness, his hunger, his lust. She hooked one leg around his to draw their bodies even closer. His arousal, already stiff, jutted against her, kindling even more desire.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered.
With a groan, he lowered his head to capture her mouth once more. His kiss was fierce, desperate—no softness to it. Velia gave his fierceness back to him by sinking her teeth into his bottom lip. His body jerked, and he broke off from the kiss with a gasp.
His hand settled at the base of her throat, fingers wrapping around it. The possessive grasp, heavy but not crushing, made need pulse between her legs.
“One more thing,” he whispered, voice raspy and uneven. “I’d be a fool to think I have the control to withdraw. Not tonight. So again, if you don’t want that—”
“I have my herbs.” Besides, she knew her courses approached in the coming days, and understood that was the time in her monthly cycle when she was least likely to conceive. This time—the last time—with Ferox, she was willing to take that risk.
He kissed her once more. His hands divested her of her dress, then roved over her bare body. She leaned into his touch, arching against him as his fingers delved between her legs.
A low, approving noise rumbled in his chest when his fingers slipped in her wetness. Then he grabbed her around the waist, and suddenly she was on the other side of the room, perched atop her narrow chest of drawers.
He dropped to his knees before her. His hands slid beneath her bottom, yanking her to the edge of the surface.
“Oh!” Velia tilted her hips forward, leaning her shoulders against the wall to give him better access as he buried his face between her legs.
There was no gentle build of sensation, no slow, careful pleasuring.
His mouth was relentless on her. After so many times together, he knew exactly what to do to make her shudder and quake.
He worked her with unsparing focus. She was powerless, unable to do anything but clench her thighs around his head as he conquered her with his mouth.
The climax crashed over her in an all-consuming, merciless wave. For those blissful moments, she forgot where she was, forgot the dread of tomorrow, even forgot her own name.
When it subsided, she slumped against the wall, dazed by the pleasure still swirling through her body, enveloping her in a blissful fog.
Ferox gave her no time to recover. He rose to his feet, shucked off his tunic, and grabbed her hips.
Then, before she could even take a breath, he buried himself inside her in one urgent thrust. She gasped, hands clutching at his shoulders.
There was slight discomfort at his swift invasion, mixed with sharp sparks of residual pleasure.
Her muscles quickly relaxed, well-accustomed to him after so many times together.
He paused for only the barest moment to slide his palms beneath her bottom, drawing her closer. Then he drove into her, once, again, again. She gripped his shoulders and held on, legs wrapping around his waist. His breath was harsh in her ear.
Ferox broke off to tweak her position again, his grasp rough and unyielding on her hips. Then, he withdrew suddenly with a sigh of frustration, as if he couldn’t quite find the angle he wanted. He took hold of her waist and deposited her on the bed.
“This is what you like, right?” he growled as he bent one leg over her head.
“Yes—oh!” Her assent was swallowed up by a moan as he slid into her once more.
Something about this position heightened every sensation.
Her other leg curled around his hip, urging him even deeper.
He set a demanding rhythm that soon had a fresh wave of pleasure building in her core.
She tilted her hips, searching for more.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Just—just like that.”
A groan vibrated in his chest. “Again?” he panted. There was a note of incredulity in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe she was actually enjoying this.
She nodded, her forehead bumping his shoulder. Her eyes fell shut, and she allowed the swelling pleasure to consume her entire focus. It burst with an intensity that was nearly painful, her muscles already well-used by his previous attentions. Her teeth sank into the flesh of his shoulder.
He let out a ragged grunt. His body shuddered, then collapsed on top of hers. She only felt his weight for a moment before he rolled off.
His arms found her, pulling her against his chest. She kept her eyes closed, reveling in only the sensations she could hear and feel: the slowing rhythm of his breath, the thump of his heart beneath her ear, the brush of his fingers on her arms.
Once she opened her eyes, the reality she’d been trying to escape from would intrude.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“I was a brute. I must have hurt you.”
That got her to open her eyes. She half-turned to send him a skeptical look. “Did you miss the part where I climaxed twice?” Her body was still heavy with the remains of the pleasure he’d brought her.
He glanced away, abashed. “Still. I should have been gentler.”
She rolled her eyes and returned to lie in his arms, her back pressed against his chest. As she feared, thoughts of tomorrow trespassed on her satisfied mind, chasing away the moment of ease. Icy dread gathered in her stomach once more.
Velia sat up, unable to enjoy Ferox’s warmth. She caught sight of the curved red marks on his shoulder, wrought by her teeth. In a strange way, it pleased her he’d go into the arena tomorrow marked by her.
She swallowed hard. There was something she needed to say to him.
Something that would take all her courage.
“Ferox…about tomorrow…” She passed a hand through the remains of her braid, disentangling the segments that had survived the rough coupling until her fingers could slide through with no resistance.
His gaze fixed on her, and he waited in silence for her to speak.
“I don’t want you to hold back,” she finally said. “You have my blessing, if you need it, to win.” To kill Achilles. In their last conversation, Ferox had said he wouldn’t throw the fight, but she feared he wouldn’t give it his all, out of care for her. So she wouldn’t lose Achilles.
And Velia couldn’t stand fearing she was the unwitting cause of Ferox’s death.
“As terrible as it sounds,” she said, “I can live with Achilles dying. I can start over if I have to.” The words pained her, though they were true.
She felt responsible for Achilles, aside from the potential money his career would bring her, and she didn’t want his death on her conscience.
She sensed she’d carry that guilt forever.
But if the choice was between Achilles and Ferox…
there was only one decision she could make.
“But you…” Velia continued. “I can’t live with you dying.”
His hand found hers, fingers twining together. “Even if you know I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again? It will be the same for you whether I live or die.”
She shook her head. “Not the same. If you leave, I can imagine you being alive. Being happy. Not that I understand how you’d be happy, living in the middle of nowhere all by yourself.” She intended the remark as a joke, but bitterness laced it.
He propped himself on an elbow, facing her. She didn’t miss his wince as his injured leg shifted against the mattress. Unease joined the dread in her stomach. Her declaration didn’t matter if Ferox actually found himself unable to best Achilles.
“I wouldn’t be happy,” he said. “Not without you.”
“I haven’t—haven’t changed my mind,” she said unsteadily. “I can’t leave—”
“I’m not asking you to leave. I’m telling you I want to stay.”
Velia held her breath, hardly able to comprehend his words. “You…what?”
“It’s Lea’s doing,” he said gruffly. “She made me realize I’d been very stupid about several things.
Thinking Hector’s death was my fault. Believing he’d go to the trouble of haunting me.
Planning to leave behind the closest thing I’ve had to a home since I was a child.
And there was something about thistles…” He shook his head.
“This will still be my last fight. But leaving you…well, the thought of it feels like severing my own arm.”
Tears blurred her vision. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t speak.
“Besides,” he continued, “I hear there’s a new manager who might need a trainer for her gladiators.”
Emotion swelled in her chest. “I’ve heard the same thing,” she managed with a wavering chuckle.
She wanted to throw herself into his arms and weep with joy, but his words didn’t erase what was about to happen tomorrow.
He still had to fight, still had to face death.
Now, if he lost, it would feel all the more cruel for being so close to happiness.
“I love you, Velia,” he murmured, his voice roughening. “Whatever time I have left, I want to spend it with you.”