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  “When I win, I will demand her returned to me instead of the money.” Lucius let the wine slide down his throat and turned to see the old man grinning like a fool. “What’s so funny?”

  “The pretty redhead, Alba, is worth much more than the penance a first-time gladiator such as you will earn tomorrow. You must win several battles before you have enough to demand her freedom. But, I have the information I need.” He moved as it to leave and Lucius reached out a hand to grasp the old man’s shoulder.

  “What do you mean, you have what you need?” He demanded suspiciously.

  “Why, I came here to get your story to determine if I should bet on you tomorrow, gladiator, and now I know that you are one worth betting on winning.” The old man looked at his shoulder pointedly and Lucius let go.

  “Why is that?” He was curious and wanted to know why having his friend ripped away from him would make him any better than the rest.

  “Because the hurt and anger of losing someone is a much better fuel than greed,” the old man told him before he turned and walked from the popina. Lucius watched him leave with a heavy heart and an even heavier soul.

  As he drank his last glass of wine, he remembered what the instructor had told him when he’d marched to the battlegrounds to sign up for the competition.

  You can fight tomorrow, but after that, you will train with me for sixty days before I let you in the arena again.

  If he could not win enough money in tomorrow’s battle, then he would have to wait sixty days before he could have another go to it. Lucius took what little coin he had left and stumbled from the popina. Alba had been a lowly peasant, but he was a citizen of the Empire. He’d worked as a smithy’s apprentice until half a day ago, now he was embarking on the journey to becoming a gladiator in order to win back a woman he wasn’t even sure he loved or not.

  Lucius just wanted that chance.

  Chapter Two

  “So you’re here to win back your whore?” a man shouted from the other side of the changing room. Lucius ignored the obvious prod at his pride and examined the weapons available to him. The man who was going to train him stood two steps behind him with his arms crossed.

  “Are you a swordsman or an axe man?” Spurius tapped one finger on his muscled arm while his eyes scanned the room full of men. They were ranging from eighteen to late twenties as this was a strong man’s game, and there was no room for weak, old men. He’d had his time in the arena, but now that he was thirty-two, it was time for him to take a step back. He still itched to hold the sword again.

  “I don’t know,” Lucius admitted as he touched a double-edged axe and retracted his finger quickly. A sliver of blood had shown on his finger before he wiped it on his brown tunic. His entire body glistened with a sheen of sweat from the heat and his nerves.

  Spurius stepped forward and pulled the sword from the rack as he spoke, “Swords are longer and better suited for men who have a long reach and are able to keep their opponents occupied. Axes are better for men who have a shorter reach and are nimble with their movements as they can get in close to their opponent and surprise him with a blow to his mid-section or thigh. If you can, do not deal a death blow as the crowd likes to decide whether someone lives or dies.”

  Lucius didn’t want to feel sick, but he’d never killed another man in his life, and he didn’t want to start that day. This is for Alba, he thought as he looked at the other weapons.

  “What about this?” he asked as he held up a spiked club. It was well made and felt good in his hands.

  “Usually, men with more power behind their swing choose that. It’s heavier than most weapons and requires finesse, believe it or not.” Spurius took the club from Lucius and was careful not to touch the spikes. “I wouldn’t recommend this in your first fight.”

  Deciding to take his advice for the time being, Lucius took the axe from the rack and peered at the armor available to him. He knew it would hinder his movements and worried, but he chose a simple breastplate and adorned the proper under armor first. Then Spurius helped him into the gear and took a step back to look at his new specimen.

  “I think I’ve made a good decision in you, Lucius. Don’t prove me wrong today,” he said as he slapped Lucius on the back and walked him into the coliseum. It was a large, grandiose arena with the entire center cleared out in order for the fighters to have enough room to avoid one another or plan an attack.

  Lucius took in the other men standing with him and felt fear clench his abdomen. They were just as big as or bigger than him and all of them were holding sharp, deadly weapons in their hands. Their muscles flashed in the bright light as they were led around the arena for all the spectators to see, and their presence was met with shouts and screams of glee from both men and women alike. Then they stopped short in front of the podium which the emperor sat upon with his family and guards.

  Their eyes had met for a short moment before the emperor moved on to look at the rest of them. They swore an oath in front of the emperor that they would endure to be burned, to be bound, to be beaten, and to be killed by the sword. And then it began.

  Lucius watched from under the arch as two men with axes fought against one another valiantly, but one of them was a slave and the other was a criminal. The audience declared the criminal safe for the time being, but they decided the slave should die. Thus, the bulkier one who had won, the criminal, took his axe and drove it deep into his opponent’s skull. Blood rushed forth from the wound as the axe was removed, and Lucius fought hard to keep his stomach in check.

  “You’re not a seasoned warrior,” a man stated as he stepped up beside Lucius. “Everyone knows why you’re here, and I’m warning you, they’ve got it in for the likes of you. Battling to win back a slave when you’re not one yourself, it’s ludicrous and unheard of. There isn’t room for soft feelings like love and affection, free man.” Lucius turned to look at the man and came face to face with the barbarian who had shouted about him winning back his whore.

  Fire lit his veins as his name was called and the crowd roared. His reputation already preceded him and the look on the barbarian’s face as his name was called was priceless. The two of them stepped from the shadows and took their positions in the center of the arena. The light from the sun pounded down on their flesh, one man bronzed and seasoned and the other pale but muscular. Lucius had spent too much time in the smithy to get much sun.

  The crowd held their breath simultaneously as the game manager called out for them to begin. Their axes came up, Lucius looked to his left as a streak of red caught his eye, and then he felt the whoosh of air hitting his arm as the other man anticipated his move wrong and hit dirt with his axe. Without wasting a heartbeat, Lucius swung his axe and buried it deep within the man’s thigh, rendering him useless.

  Then he scanned the crowd for the woman he thought for sure was Alba before he realized the emperor was calling for him to finish off the man. He was a criminal, and criminals never left the arena alive.

  Chapter Three

  “What’s your name, gladiator?” The feminine voice slid over him like a fine cloak and he put down his glass of wine. Lucius knew he’d had enough already at full strength, and he didn’t want to leave himself vulnerable to the other survivors.

  “Lucius; and I am not a gladiator, not yet,” he stated as he turned toward the woman. He had more to say, but the words fled from his mind as his dark eyes settled upon her vibrant blue ones. Her hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back in straight locks, reflecting the light off the blonde shafts.

  “You were in the arena. I know since I was there. Never mind that. My mistress has sent me to fetch you.” The woman nodded in the direction of the banquet table reserved for the wealthy, but Lucius was not interested. His eyes never left this slave who had dared to put her hand on his forearm. When she caught him looking at her slender fingers on his damp flesh, her cheeks turned ruddy. “My apologies, Lucius,” she uttered as she removed her hand.

  “I’ve had
too much wine to be of service to your mistress. You can tell her that.” He held up his goblet and smiled at her genuinely, suggestively before she went back to her mistress’ table and whispered in her ear. The woman the slave whispered to was of average height with dark hair and dark eyes that radiated sexuality, but Lucius was not in the mood for the likes of her.

  He kept his gaze on the slave as she stepped back into the shadows, ready to be of service if she was needed. They made eye contact, and as the night wore on, Lucius sipped his watered down wine and made sure that he was more sober before he approached the slave. He let his body melt into the shadows where she stood and they slipped behind one of the marble pillars.

  “We can’t do anything here, if that’s what you want,” she whispered to him in the dark. Lucius could feel her soft body as he pressed his hard thigh between hers. He could feel the warmth beneath her tunic of her arousal and leaned in to smell the rose water she had used on her hair.

  “Oh, it’s what I want, and I hear say that women do not turn down gladiators,” he whispered back as he wrapped one of his hands in her hair. They were a mere twenty-five feet away from the table where her mistress currently dined. If either one of them were caught, the slave would pay for the indiscretion.

  “You said you were not a gladiator yet,” she retorted, but her head snapped back as he tightened his grip in her hair and her breath quickened. Lucius knew it was willing lips he took with his, but when her tongue parted his rough lips and darted to take a taste, his knees weakened and his grip loosened.

  There were the sounds of moans in the shadows as some of the other gladiators took pleasure in what was offered to them. The women with high-class blood running through their veins would come to the barracks to dine with the gladiators when the games were over. They would collect blood from the gladiator’s wounds and scrape the sweat off their bodies to put into their creams and perfumes in order to bring about an aphrodisiac effect. Yet that was not enough, they had to sleep with the gladiators, too.

  Lucius did not want to sleep with any of the women dining at the special table. He wanted to bury his sword in the one pressed against the column, kissing him with her mouth open and willing. The heat grew between his legs and he felt his cock growing hard. She reached a hesitant hand out and put it on his chest to stop him from going any further.

  “Lucius,” she whispered to him to get his attention. He stopped his hand from going any further up her tunic and touching her womanhood. He waited patiently for an explanation. “I don’t know if I can, I’m a,” he understood what she was trying to say.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he told her as he slid her tunic up her thighs and reached one finger between them. He found her wet and throbbing, and wondered if she had ever enjoyed the pleasure of playing with herself. “Have you ever come?” he asked her as he stroked her throbbing clit once with his finger. She put her face to his shoulder to muffle her shocked groan and shook her head.

  Lucius had played with her nub for a few delicious moments before he was ready. Then he pulled up his tunic and slid the head of his cock against her plump nether lips. The woman bit into his shoulder as he pushed into her an inch, and then he reached between her legs and pinched her nub once, hard. Her hips rocked back and forth, taking him in one agonizing centimeter at a time as she pleasured herself with his clenched fingers.

  When he felt her teeth clench and her body pulsate with her pleasure, he thrust into her and put a hand over her mouth as she pulled back to cry out. He was not gentle after that and thrust into her harder and harder until she was unable to breathe rhythmically. Lucius gripped her small, round bottom in his strong hands and thrust into her until his balls grew taught and his cock pulsed with his orgasm. His hot cum streamed into her, but he wasn’t finished.

  His sensitive penis thrust into her again, and a few minutes later, he streamed into her more. Her face was flushed and her clothes disarrayed when she stumbled from the shadows. The slave hurried to the chamber room to wipe up his cum sliding down her bare leg.

  Lucius ordered another glass of wine and tried not to think about red hair and gray eyes.

  Chapter Four

  The sound of wooden swords clashing against wooden shields echoed through the training grounds. Lucius watched the other men battling with one another and took note of how their feet moved. Their focus was solely on their opponent’s movements and not even the sound of thunder in the distance disturbed them. His new trainer, Spurius, thrust a wooden sword at him and a matching shield. There were already marks on the shield and the sword had a few chunks missing from it.

  “Now, we’re going to spar and I want you to parry me for as long as you can without striking back. We need to build up your endurance and you’ll need to work on the movement of your feet. You were lucky in the arena, but you need to be the best warrior here if you want to survive to see your slave girl.” Spurius’ had a way of smiling without it reaching his eyes. His lips would curl up and his teeth would show just a little, but his eyes never seemed to move.

  Lucius was about to ask him what he meant by being lucky, but the sword was coming at him and he raised his shield to block. The force behind Spurius’ blow almost knocked Lucius to his feet, but he managed to stumble back and recover. He could taste dust in the air as he began to move around a small circle, attempting to keep Spurius at bay. The man was relentless and beat upon the shield until Lucius’ flesh broke out in a sweat and his breathing became labored. They went at it for over an hour before Lucius finally struck out with his sword and swiped Spurius off his feet. A man standing alongside the ring clapped his hands and laughed when he saw Spurius go down.

  “You lasted longer than I did the first time,” he shouted as he stepped over the line.

  “You were smaller and younger,” Spurius said as he let Lucius help him to his feet. Then he put the sword and the shield back. He was about to give Lucius some pointers on his footwork when there was a shout from the other side of the barracks’ grounds.

  Lucius and the stranger watched him as he took off for the screams. From the sound of it, someone had injured their partner pretty bad and they might be short a gladiator in the upcoming fights. Perhaps Lucius would get a chance to dip his feet into the arena again soon after all.

  “The name’s Julius, but my last name isn’t Caesar,” the stranger said as he stuck out his bronze hand. Lucius took it and ignored the sounds coming from the other side of the barracks. “You’re new here, so you have to watch your back and make sure you lay off the wine. We’re pitted against each other sometimes, and the rest of these men think the arena is everywhere.”

  “So I shouldn’t sleep?” Lucius asked as he followed Julius back to the tent area. There were some women about cleaning and cooking, but most of them were hard looking and would not look up from their labors. Lucius caught the eye of a young one learning how to scrub tunics. When her instructor caught her looking, she slapped the girl’s hand and instructed her to scrub harder.

  “No, you just shouldn’t spar with someone you don’t trust. Around here, if someone hurts you outside of the ring you’re allowed to retaliate. But inside the ring, it’s a free for all.” Julius pulled aside the flap of a small tent and ushered Lucius inside.

  They settled down on blankets strewn across the floor and Julius offered his new friend a glass of watered down wine. “We have rations, so it’s best to mix the water and wine as light as you can. The best fighters get first choice when it comes to the food and the women around here, so keep your paws off the girl you just saw. She’s not for you.” Julius had chattered on like a clucking hen for over half an hour before Lucius stood at the sound of the bell to call them to supper.

  “That’s dinner, right?” he asked as he stood. His stomach growled and Julius shook his head.

  “You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?” he asked incredulously as he pulled aside the tent flap. The two of them made their way through the warm air to the dining ten
t and waited at the back as the rest of the warriors filed in and obtained their bowls. “I’m staying back here with you because you’re new, but I just want you to know I’m usually one of the first ones up there,” Julius told him with his arms crossed.

  A few of the men were giving them odd looks to confirm Julius’ statement, and Lucius felt gratitude for the man. “Thank you,” he said as he stepped up to the female slave serving them. It was the woman he’d caught looking at him while she was washing tunics, and Lucius couldn’t help a small smile at her. She had light green eyes and dirty blonde hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck. The way she had her hair pulled back told him she was young, but she was old enough to know what he wanted from her.

  That night, he shared a tent with Julius, but the following day he bought his own with his winnings. He felt guilty he was spending it when he should be saving it for Alba, but he needed somewhere to sleep to keep his strength. For weeks after that night, he trained with Julius and the two of them became close friends.

  Little did they know, their manager was planning on pitting them against one another as he saw the way they fought together. The two of them would make a bountiful spectacle.

  Chapter Five

  She had been washing the linens again. He knew because her hands were soft when they wrapped around his shaft and pulled up to the tip. Lucius sucked in a breath and he smiled at her pale, glowing face in the moonlight. It was so bright out he could make out the freckles dusted across her nose and cheeks. Her plump lips parted gently and he watched as her tongue darted out to taste the tip of his hard cock.

  “Lucius,” she moaned as he wrapped his hand in her dirty blonde hair. She was forbidden, claimed by one of the other gladiators, but she only had eyes for him.

  “Valeria,” he said her name as her lips found the mushroom head of his cock and he felt hot, moist breath dancing across the sensitive flesh. Her tongue swirled around as she took him into the back of her throat. His hand tightened in her hair and soon she was not the one in control of her pace.