by Jaye Shields
Her seemingly protective warrior grabbed Eirana and tossed her out of the way. As soon as her body was no longer between them, she watched the renegade gladiator behead the larger one in a swift, easy move. The head bounced onto the ground with a sickening thud and rolled toward her, still determined to haunt her.
The crowd erupted like thunder at the fierce act. The fighter stood frozen for a moment, blood dripping from his sword. The remaining gladiators stilled, too frightened by the sight. Her savior had drawn a line in the sand with blood that now divided the coliseum floor.
Her heart pounded within her chest, the raging beat so loud that it nearly drowned out the roar of the crowd. Staring at the gladiator who had saved her life, she realized he was smiling. It was barely visible but she noted the slight curve of his lips as the mass roared for him, causing the coliseum to tremble.
He looked down at her and the rest of the world fell away. His silver gaze penetrated Eirana like granite, and she shuddered. He was so deadly, and yet, so beautiful. Perhaps she had died and he was her archangel taking her to the next realm.
He stretched out an arm to help her up. The crimson splattered along his muscular limb served as a reminder that he was no angel. When she didn’t take his hand, he turned away from her and rushed forward to meet the four remaining gladiators who didn’t look excited to face the man who had taken down six men in under a minute.
Still lying on the ground, Eirana watched him disappear into the middle of the remaining fighters. He must be crazed…
Eirana used the distraction to scramble to her feet and run toward the women and children clawing at the slave gates. The sun glinted off something on the ground nearly blinding her. She turned spotting a lone sword lying in the sand a few feet from the decapitated owner. She grabbed the sword and clutched it so tight her fingers ached. After watching gladiator battles in the hours before her own subjection, she knew that anything could come out of the thirty-eight trap doors of the coliseum. Thanks to the renegade gladiator, there were still many surviving slaves.
Eirana knew too well, Romans didn’t like survivors.
Clutching the sword to her chest, she kept her back to the women and children still pounding at the slave gate and faced the rest of the arena. In the middle of the expanse, the steely-eyed gladiator was a picture of lethal grace. It hadn’t appeared as if he’d taken a single hit. Instead, the men around him suffered massive wounds and they each fell to the ground as more seconds passed.
When only one gladiator remained, the man yielded out of fear. Eirana also was petrified of the gladiator that had spared her life. Never before had she seen such talent and grace when dealing death to beasts of men.
The triumphant gladiator threw his sword in the air, causing mayhem within the stands. Eirana looked to the stands and saw a single man rise. The entire occupancy of the coliseum fell silent. She couldn’t be sure from her vantage point but she thought the man offered a single signal with his closed palm. Her heart stopped when the crowd roared confirming her suspicion. It meant only one thing. Death.
****
Power thrummed through his veins, filling his body like a drug. Ares swung his sword toward the lone adversary. The gladiator had given up but sparing a frightened woman-killer would not earn him glory. No. There would be no mercy from the God of War. The blade cut clean through the meaty neck. Blood sprayed and Ares wore it like a medal of honor.
The crowd continued to roar as the head of the gladiator fell at Ares’ feet. He wondered if the defiant slave girl was watching. Would she be grateful, or frightened?
If she were smart, she’d be both…
Chapter Three
Ares turned to walk back toward the slave women and noticed how they instantly backed away with fear. Save for the girl with defiant green eyes.
A voice boomed from the stands. “Halt!”
Never before had Ares been commanded so. How dare the infidel? Ares recalled that he was human, and turned slowly on his sandaled feet seeking to assess the Roman that dared command him. A man Ares knew quite well stared down at him from his perch, his gold crown glistening on his head. The very leader who thought himself a God going off on elaborate war campaigns only to come crying to Olympia after suffering massive defeats.
Ares turned and shouted letting his words echo throughout the coliseum. “I am here to show the people true power.”
“You are strong indeed, Tiro. But not powerful.” The word “tiro” echoed with disgust, a term used to describe fledgling gladiators. “I am powerful. With one signal of my hand, you would be lion’s meat. You may have defeated some of my gladiators but my exotic jungle beasts will tear you to pieces.”
Ares wanted to dare him to try but bit his tongue. He could defend himself but he had to remember the women and children that cowered by the arena gates.
The leader’s arrogant voice echoed down from the stands once more. “Who are you? What village did we take you from?”
“As if your men could capture me…you have taken me from nowhere. I have come to you. I am Ares. I am Mars. I am the God of War.”
The crowd erupted in laughter sending liquid fury through his veins. Ares pointed his sword at the nearest body, which he had cut in half. “Do you doubt me?” he roared back causing silence to fall across the arena.
Even from afar, Ares could make out the smile on Caesar’s face. The ruler foresaw the way the people would flock to the coliseum to see Ares prove his words. “All right then, we’ll call you the madman for now. Perhaps you can earn the name Ares in the future.”
Ares turned without dismissal and the crowd gasped. This made Ares smile as he approached the slave women.
Guards came into the arena to escort the slaves to the proper cell. One of them put a hand on his Gaul woman and began pushing her forward. Witnessing the force caused Ares to run toward the group. When he reached them, he drove a sword through the guard who had touched her. The woman screamed but the next voice echoing through the coliseum belonged to Caesar.
“The battle is over!”
“Then why are men still beating women and children? Is this your show of Roman strength?”
The silence that followed meant the ruler was fuming. Ares grasped the woman’s hand and realized she trembled. When he met her gaze, the shaking halted as if she willed it so. Leaning closer, he whispered into her ear in the language of her people. “Everything will be well.”
His own voice caught him off guard, for he heard an unusual emotion reflected in his tone. It was a very human emotion—resolution. And perhaps another emotion behind it but he dared not say the words…
Part of being a human meant being fragile, but possessing a human heart was something that he could not do. After all, he’d seen firsthand the centuries of tragedy induced by one thing.
Love.
****
Eirana let Ares’ strong hand linger within her grip as he escorted her into the cell. His presence ensured none of the guards touched her. She still wasn’t sure why, but he seemed determined to protect her. He’d spoken her language, which led her to wonder if her brother had sent him to protect her. His hand was soft, not calloused as she expected from an able-fighter. The way in which he wielded a sword though, was not of someone who had just taken up a weapon for the first time.
The blood coating his hand was a sticky reminder of his abilities. She shuddered unable to control herself. The gladiator looked down at her. His eyes were the color of the steel blade in his hand and his gaze was just as dangerous. The man looked deep into her eyes causing Eirana to wonder if she’d done something wrong. He’d saved her, and yet the warrior held a look of disapproval.
She took her hand from his grip and he did not attempt to take it back. Instead, he approached one of the guards and spoke to him in a low tone. She wished she could understand their words, but the Roman dialect was lost on her.
In an instant, the guard found his wrist yanked behind his back, a loud snap followed signaling a brok
en bone. His screams echoed against the cell walls, catching the attention of his fellow guards who rushed into the chamber. Abruptly released from the gladiator’s grip and thrown into the other guards, he caused them to stumble backwards over each other. The warrior quickly stepped forward and pulled the cell gate closed. Apparently, he planned to remain in the women’s cell.
Eirana shuddered. Although he’d saved her, she was unsure if his continued presence in the women’s cell was a good or bad thing. From the murderous glint in his stone-colored gaze, it might be a bad thing. A very, very bad thing.
****
Ares shut the door, and appraised the deep cut on the upper edge of the woman’s forehead. His hand went to the wound but he withdrew it, remembering the blood of another man still covered it.
“When did this happen?” He tried to speak calmly in her language but the words barely escaped through gritted teeth.
She spoke softly in return, her eyes wide with surprise and questioning. “Did my brother send you for me?”
“No.”
At his words, fear returned to her gaze twisting flecks of gray into deep green eyes, but she didn’t back away. He nearly smiled at her courage.
“Gaul is a vast kingdom, what village do you hail from?”
Once more, Ares grit his teeth. It was not possible she thought him capable of descending from a mere village.
“I am Ares. I come from no village.” He omitted his true identity as the God of War since her people didn’t worship the Olympians. Yet he’d already forgiven her for that. Her courage and beauty were homage enough to the Gods. Merely being in her presence was making Ares feel more alive than ever.
“How is it you speak my language?”
Being an Olympian God, one had these abilities and many more. Yet now was not the time for confessions. “I am a man of many cultures.”
“You have been a gladiator long then?” Her green eyes burned into him like fire with searing disapproval.
He shook his head. “War takes men many places.”
She turned away from him in response so he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. He used the opportunity to usher her even closer. He smelled the dirt and sweat on her but beneath lay the scent of a woman. The aroma of her soft flesh dizzied his senses and he caught himself staring at the skin of her neck, only barely hidden by messy blonde hair.
She backed away from him and slid down to the damp floor. She shivered and brought her knees to her chest hugging them close as if they provided additional warmth. He sat across from her and motioned her over. “I can provide you with warmth.”
She shook her head and continued to stare at him. For the first time, he noticed the light freckles dusted across her cheeks. Her unique beauty made him harden beneath his cloth. Yet she had refused to share the warmth of his body in the cold cell. Never before had a woman refused him.
When she shifted her gaze away, the need to retain her attention pierced his gut. “I have told you my name. What is yours?”
She assessed him, searching his eyes for intentions. “Eirana.”
“Eirana. While I am on this earth, I will be your champion. No other will lay a hand on you.”
She had no way of knowing how truly he meant to keep to his promise, nor could she know of the desires stirring within him. He would let no man lay a hand on her delicate skin. What the beautiful Eirana did not know, was that his time was fleeting. He wondered what her fate would be in a month’s time, after he was gone.
The thought stirred him with unease. The ache hollowing out his stomach was an unwelcome human weakness. Yet like the darkness in Hades there was nothing he could do about it.
****
After a long night in the cold cell, Eirana pondered the man before her. He’d left her alone with her questions, but he couldn’t go far in the small space. Since his eyes closed to sleep, she’d finally gotten the chance to appraise his form. The man who called himself Ares was lean but well-muscled. His strength was obvious, made clear by the hard, round shape of his biceps. Smears of blood and dirt still stained his skin but he seemed to wear it with pride. His limbs were long and taut with tension, even as he slept. Surrounded by death and grime, an odd sensation of desire coursed through Eirana. She fought a wild urge to clean her savior’s body and feel the strength that had spared so many lives.
She’d barely slept a wink. The barren floor of the cell was cold, compared to the warmth that she’d refused from the warrior’s massive body. Eirana was unsure how to handle the feeling stirring within her, for a hug from her brothers was the most physical contact she’d ever had with a man. Back in the village, she had yet to be betrothed. There’d been handsome warriors in her region, but Ares was something else. His gray eyes stirred something deep within her, and the mystery of his continued presence left her full of questions. Even though she felt a searing attraction to the warrior before her, she knew little more than his name. Did he have a woman back home? Had he lost anyone? Who was this man, and what made him dare to go against the empire?
When Ares flicked an eye open, Eirana quickly looked away. Heat crept up her cheeks at his catching her, but when she glanced back his eyes had shut once again, but she swore she saw his full lips quirk up in a smile.
“Eddo, rattus.” A gigantic beast of a man approached the barred entrance to the slave quarters. The acrid stench of his body odor nearly made Eirana heave. He threw a plate of half-consumed animal bones into the cell, scattering it across the ground.
Eirana didn’t understand the language, but it was obvious that the scraps were the only food they’d see for days. Her stomach grumbled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.
A frenzy of bodies flocked to the bones as if they were made of gold. The jaunt pieces barely even had any meat on them. Surely, the dogs had gotten them first. Greedy hands pushed children out of the way. Looking to one of the crying girls, Eirana’s blood heated with anger.
“Are any of you not mothers?” she shouted in Gaulish, not caring if they understood. She stared holes of shame through the greedy women. Starvation or not, sooner or later they’d all be dead anyway.
“Are you a mother?” A quiet, masculine voice came from behind her in the language of her people. The familiarity of the dialect warmed Eirana, almost making her smile. Her eyes drawn first to the warrior’s concerned expression, and then she glimpsed down at the hand extended toward her. Ares’ hand held a large meaty drumstick. “For you.”
Her mouth nearly fell open as the smell assaulted her senses. She licked her lips. “Where did you get that?” She swore she hadn’t seen anything but bone thrown into the cell.
“Worry not about where it came from. You’re hungry. Have it.” He placed the meaty limb in her hand.
Eirana’s mouth watered and she could almost smell the aroma as if it had been fresh. She kept the drumstick close to her body so the others wouldn’t notice. “You,” she whispered to the little girl thrown out of the way earlier.
Motioning with her hand, Eirana finally earned the girl’s attention through the continued bout of tears. When the girl approached, Eirana showed her the meat. When the little one’s eyes grew large, Eirana signaled for her to remain quiet. Deep down, she knew somehow, the warrior called Ares would protect her if the women tried to pry the meat from her hands, but Eirana chose to avoid violence at all costs.
Eirana held the heavy drumstick up to the child’s mouth and watched as the girl took a hearty bite. The sound of the juices running into the girl’s mouth and the soft chewing of the meat echoed in the cell. Eirana met Ares’ gaze.
“That was meant for you,” he muttered.
“I will have some, too.” Why was he concerned?
The young girl stopped chewing and guided the meat in Eirana’s direction. She sent Ares an “I told you so” look, and he seemed pleased to watch her finally take a bite. Her ravenous first bite became the most erotic moment of Eirana’s life. She was starving and couldn’t hold back from tearing
into the food with her teeth, her lips squishing over the roasted skin of the pheasant. Her tongue swiped past her lips picking up any remains of the flavorful meat. When she looked up, Ares was staring at her mouth. She hurriedly swiped her face clean. When her eyes met his again, his gaze was calm.
As she finished chewing her last bite, she handed the drumstick back to the young girl who’d made herself at home in the crook of Eirana’s arm.
“You never answered my question. Are you a mother?” His gaze was calm, and she wondered how it was that he looked so at home in a cell full of slaves. He did not look like a man who worried that the next day could be his last. He was a gladiator and yet he looked at peace, not as a man prepared to die a gruesome death. She’d seen plenty of those in her cell these past days.
“No, I was not a mother. But I was a daughter and a sister, and I loved many who were killed. I had two brothers and three younger sisters. My sisters fled when Caesar came and I can only pray they are safe. My older brother died before my eyes trying to save me.”
“I am sorry for that. I should have been there.” The low voice escaped like a promise, sending a jolt of energy toward her.
“My younger brother was fighting as well, but I did not see him. There was so much fire and smoke…”
“Courage is often born in fire. I’m sure your brother is well.”
She let his reassurance sink in, grateful for his words. “Are you a Gaulish soldier then?”
“I told you I am not.”
She didn’t question him further on the subject. She looked down just in time to catch the last of the meat disappear into the small child’s mouth, reminding her that she’d never offered any of the savory meat to the man. “Are you not hungry after your…exertion?” She wondered how he could slay ten gladiators and yet still seem so strong.
