Two pairs of firedancers were putting on a show in the middle of the staircase. They were sensuous and masterful, bending every which way and running the burning ends of their wands over their bodies in time to the music. They were so sure, so focused, and so damn close to tripping and falling down those stairs Amelia was afraid to watch.
Honoria stood in the center of the topmost step, looking down. At first Amelia thought she was watching the show but every once in a while the Caesar would give an infinitesimal nod and another person or two would make their way up to join the party. She was passing judgment over who could enter. And she didn’t even have the decency to go down there and tell the people to their faces.
Sensing her presence, Honoria spoke to her without ever looking away from that line of guards. “This is how you create the elite, my dear. Create something the people want and then deny it to all but a chosen few.”
Keep it together. Amelia left her to it. She wound her way through the growing crowd to get to the food tables, giving the groups of women a wide berth. A man painted white to resemble a statue stood to the side. When she reached for a glass, he filled it for her, moving his arm and nothing more. “Thank you,” she said, cautiously sniffing the contents. Wine. There were about a million ways it could have been drugged or poisoned without altering the taste or color. And about a hundred different ways she could be incapacitated or killed by drinking this. Right that second, Amelia was so damn thirsty she didn’t care. She downed the contents in two large gulps, making a face at the taste.
Of all the ways to make alcohol, Amelia didn’t understand why people would make or drink one that tasted like spoiled fruit juice.
Without a word, the man statue refilled her glass.
She glared at him and set the glass down, turning to leave, and almost ran into Soren. “Rome suits you,” he said. “You are the talk of the party.”
Whose talk? she wanted to ask. Because the women sure as hell weren’t talking about a female nobody. Since she couldn’t answer him without snarling, Amelia forced an uneasy shrug and looked him over to buy some time to find her normal voice again. The general wore a set of bed sheets like her; only his didn’t reach past the knee and were tied around his waist with a wide leather belt. He didn’t have the golden laurel that sat on many a man’s head here, or the golden cuffs. His only adornments were a pair of leather bracers with cleverly disguised blood stains. His hair was wet, combed back in a way that would have been handsome, if not for the ugly scar on his face.
“Did you just get out of the shower?” she asked. Hurrah! An intelligible sentence has at last emerged.
Soren laughed. “You could say that.” The light made his remaining eye gleam dangerously. She’s bet he’d had a whole harem of women to bathe him. “I see Caesar has restrained herself tonight.”
Amelia looked over the opulence of the terrace, the mountain of food being consumed and wasted, the fountains of wine that poured out onto the floor, and sometimes into someone’s mouth. “I can see how you would think that.”
“What I mean is most of her parties tend to be clothing optional.” He drawled the words while he leered at her. The guy couldn’t have any depth perception whatsoever, and still Amelia knew there wasn’t a single detail about her that went unnoticed. Gross. “But I’m sure it won’t be long before this is, too.”
“I really didn’t want to know that.”
Soren chuckled and leaned into her personal space, fingering the pendant resting at the swell of her breasts. “Liar,” he said at her ear.
Amelia shuddered. He smelled like scented oils and sex, and he sized her up like the next course of dinner. Except when his gaze snared on her pendant. His mouth twisted as if it disgusted him and she saw his hands curl at his sides.
She had to get away from him somehow. Except the table was at her back and he was caging her in. Her hand reached behind her along the table for something to use against him.
“My friends and fellow citizens of Rome,” Honoria said and the music hushed. Everyone faced her, including Soren, who turned toward his Caesar like the good little soldier he was. Amelia took the opening to edge around him and put some distance between them. “It is time to welcome our guest of honor this night. Our Champion, Gladius!”
She’d timed it perfectly. As soon as she said his name, Gabriel topped the staircase and came to a stop next to her. He looked magnificent, dressed in nothing but a leather kilt of some sort and a pair of sandals, a silver cuff nestled between the muscles of his upper arm. The sheer power emanating from him was overwhelming. He radiated strength, wearing his scars proudly. Probably because the sight of them excited the partygoers, rather than repelled them. The crowd cheered while he stood next to Honoria like a statue of Hercules, stoic and untouchable. Expressionless.
Only Amelia noticed the rigidity of his stance, the tight fists curled at his sides, the tense set of his jaw and, Sweet God, the pale sheen of his eyes.
When he’d had enough adoration, Gabriel moved to walk away, but Honoria stopped him with a single touch of her pale, feminine hand on his arm. His eyes didn’t just glitter when he looked at her; they shone, catching the light of the oil lamps. Amelia gasped, praying he could control himself. A shift triggered by strong emotion like fear or rage was dangerous. It could kill him, even with the regenerative serum working properly.
“Not so fast, my love,” Honoria said.
My love? Another wave of irrational jealousy rocked her on her feet. It’s a test. Stay neutral. Hard enough to do here without provocation. But the way Honoria ran the backs of her fingers up and down Gabriel’s arm made Amelia twitchy as hell. Especially when she noticed Caesar’s touch was very deliberate, tracing a long scar on his arm. Even from so far away Amelia felt Gabriel all but vibrating in agitation. He couldn’t get away but he wanted to. Badly. Either that, or turn on Honoria and rip her apart.
“I have a gift for you.”
From the way Gabriel tensed again, he too must have caught the malice in Honoria’s voice. “I don’t want anything from you,” he growled.
“This you will accept,” Honoria said with the full authority of Caesar. She turned to address the crowd. “Ladies, friends, members of the highest circle of my regard. Tell me, has not our Champion proven himself beyond compare?”
“Yes!” they chorused, drawing closer.
“And have the gods not smiled upon his form, and strength, and skill?”
“Yes!”
“Has he not entertained us to our hearts’ delight?” Her gaze lighted on Amelia. “Pleased us well with his tireless determination?”
“YES!”
“Oh, my, yes,” someone close to her sighed.
Honoria smiled like a cat holding a mouse by its tail. “And is there anyone among us who would bar him from her bed?”
“No!” By now all the women were gathered at the front, leaving the men to watch all this like some show being put on for their amusement.
Amelia backed into the shadows to get out of sight. All those women were ogling Gabriel like they were starving and he was a feast.
“So much for tonight’s entertainment,” a man to her left muttered.
“Bastard’s going to get the pick of the flock again,” another replied. “Just watch, he won’t leave any for the rest of us.”
The first one hummed in agreement.
He wouldn’t!
Would he?
The women were already all but drooling for him, touching themselves and panting like dogs. It made her uneasy, the intensity with which they coveted him; he had to feel it. Didn’t it unsettle him? She glanced at Gabriel. He looked mildly annoyed. That was it.
When the women started moaning and whining, Amelia’s earlier jealousy evaporated in an instant and she felt sick. This was sick. All of it. Gabriel had slept with these women, a rabid pack of bitches in heat, already breathing pleas his way. His Adam’s apple slid up and down. He couldn’t be unaffected. This had to be wigging him out as m
uch as it was her.
Amelia swayed, suddenly lightheaded. She rubbed her eyes but the soft sheen of dreaming wouldn’t go away. She glanced at the glass of wine she’d drunk, feeling like an idiot when her body started to heat up. It was too warm. Her heart was beating faster. Amelia licked her lips, thirsty for more of that wine. Her muscles loosened and she felt sleepy and needy at the same time.
Honoria had drugged her. All of them. It was in the goddamn wine.
She squeezed her eyes shut in a feeble attempt to clear her mind but without her vision she had no balance whatsoever. And her ears picked up on things that couldn’t be real. Amelia braved a look to her left, saw shadows moving, shifting. She squinted to focus her eyes and gasped. A soldier leaned against one of the columns while another took him from behind. He grunted and his arm muscles jumped, and Amelia thought he was in pain, but then her gaze dropped lower, to the hand he had wrapped around a woman’s hair, holding her mouth to his cock.
Amelia dragged her gaze away but not before she noticed two more men watching the trio and masturbating. One snatched a passing servant girl and shoved her to her hands and knees. A woman squealed on her other side and Amelia moved out of the way a second before a pair dropped to the table. The woman on her back, a man between her legs, driving himself into her. Another woman rounded the table and climbed on top of it lifting her skirts so she could straddle the first one’s face. The girl eagerly hooked her arms around those thighs.
It horrified Amelia that she was growing even more aroused by this. Her breasts felt heavy and wetness gathered between her legs. She was shivering from need and terrified someone would take advantage, that she might welcome it. But the men spared her only minimal attention. Only looked long enough to notice the pendant at her neck. Amelia clutched it like a lifeline and prayed this was one self-imposed rule no Roman would break.
She sought out Gabriel again, needing the distraction of her one solid anchor. But the moment she looked at him, memories of his mouth on her, his hands stroking her, the feel of his cock hard and thick in her hands, filling her body overwhelmed her, made her clench and…
Amelia shook her head to make herself focus but it only made her dizzy. She ached for him, knowing it wasn’t real, but a reaction forced on her by whatever Honoria had spiked the wine with. She’d only had a glass. How much had the others drunk? No wonder they were acting this way.
Honoria let the crowd work itself up to a fever pitch, until Amelia was certain they would mob Gabriel and damn the consequences.
She couldn’t be here; hated that it was affecting her like this. Amelia was almost panting in desperation. She breathed deep to ground herself, almost moaned when the simple act of inhaling made her nipples brush against the fabric of her gown, sending little shocks through her spine.
Honoria smiled in satisfaction. “You see, my Gladius, what a generous mistress I am to you? Look at this. Look at all this bounty I have laid at your feet.”
As if they were ordered, the women promptly fell to their hands and knees, arching, looking up at him, and it was all Amelia could do not to follow suit. Gabriel stood there, staring into space. Amelia bit her lip until it hurt. The pain helped clear her mind a little, but not enough to shake this off completely. The silver adornments in her hair made her scalp ache. She pulled them off, tossing them carelessly to the pillow-covered ground.
“All this beauty, offered to you on a platter. That is my gift, my Champion. Tonight, you may have your pick of these women and rest assured not one will deny you. Have two, have ten. Have them all, if that’s what you wish. I would keep nothing from you.” To the women she said, “Ladies, I leave it up to you to prove your worth to him.”
Chapter 21
The whore Honoria had had her eunuchs bathe him. The ones happiest to be rid of their balls. He’d roared them out of the bath and bristled the whole time he’d washed and dressed, doing his damndest to hide his face under water when his upper lip split clean to his nose, which flattened down like someone had punched him. True to her word, she’d had at least one soldier watching him the whole damn time. He’d nearly drowned, waiting for his face to return to normal.
And now this. He’d already been walking a razor’s edge before but now…
“…prove your worth to him.”
The moment she said it, all hell broke loose. In seconds Gabriel was surrounded by women, many of them naked, touching him, grabbing on, hanging on his arms and holding his legs. He felt tongues on his skin while a couple dry humped him like dogs in heat. He felt sick.
Gabriel clenched his teeth, felt his canines lengthen until they poked his flesh. He welcomed the pain, focused on it; breathed back the panther panicking at such chaos. It wanted to lash out and fight its way to freedom. Every time a woman moaned his name, the panther roared inside his head, demanding to be let out. So it could run. Even an animal knew it should be getting the fuck out of here.
When his muscles started to cramp, shifting under his skin, he shoved his way out of the crush of female flesh, not caring who got bruised or bloodied in the process. He shook himself off like an animal to get rid of the cloying feel of unwanted touch. His nose was filled to the brim with scents he couldn’t shake but he made himself breathe in deep and expel the air out roughly through his nose to clear it. He needed to find Amelia. Gabriel hadn’t seen or heard anything about her all day long. He shuddered to think what Honoria might have done.
She won’t do anything, he told himself. Honoria was as cunning and cruel as she was powerful. He kicked himself yet again for losing it the way he had earlier today. Now Caesar had a pretty damn effective weapon against him and Gabriel had no idea how she’d use it. He could only hope Amelia was smart enough to stay on her toes and not let herself be manipulated.
And then he saw her, standing in shadow, clutching the edge of a table and staring pensively at a point on the cushion covered floor while people around her fucked like there was no tomorrow.
Gabriel growled so low it was more a physical vibration than actual sound. Whether anyone heard him, he’d never know, but they must have sensed something because no one got in his way as he went for Amelia, and those coupling hastily moved away.
They might as well have not existed to Gabriel. He had eyes only for Amelia. She was dressed in typical Roman garb, flowing blue fabric draped over her and tied with silver ropes. The bulla glittered around her neck and her hair was free and loose. She looked beautiful. Her scent cut through the cesspool of Roman garbage, granting him the first moment of clarity he’d had all damn day. But it was off.
Her mouth was set, her shoulders rose and fell in tight breaths, she was flushed and her brows were drawn. He recognized the signs as disgust. Even the panther recognized it. This had to be the first time it had ever felt the bitter sting of humiliation. Fangs receded, muscles loosened, but his spine remained rigid.
Gabriel made himself step forward, wanting nothing more than for the rest of the world to disappear. Someone groaned loud and Amelia shuddered. Welcome to Rome, he thought bitterly. Hatred for everything this place filled him until it oozed from his pores.
She sensed his approach, tensed up, but wouldn’t look at him. Christ, she couldn’t even look at him. His stomach tightened; he felt sick knowing she’d seen this shaming display and would probably see far worse before they managed to get out of here. Gabriel wanted to put his arms around her, wanted to be for her what she was for him—the only good, clean thing in this place.
But right now she probably saw him as another part of this. Her revulsion hit him like a full body blow to the senses. Look at me, he silently willed. His hand rose of its own accord, forefinger gently touching her chin to coax her gaze up. God, angel, save me.
She lifted her chin but her gaze remained fixed on the floor. Then she raised her gaze to his and he saw how dilated her pupils were, finally recognized the scent battering at his brain, overlaid with something sickly sweet and wrong. That wasn’t disgust making her so tense, it
was arousal. Unnatural.
Gabriel’s hackles rose, making his scalp itch. The sociopathic cunt had drugged her. “Are you with me, angel?” he said softly, not wanting anyone else to hear. He couldn’t be sure she caught his words.
Amelia swallowed hard and latched on to his wrist, nails digging crescents into his skin. She didn’t say a word; didn’t have to. He got the message loud and clear.
When he scented Honoria behind him, he damn near snapped. “This is the one you want?” she asked, as if she hadn’t known all along what his choice would be.
“You said you’d deny me nothing,” Gabriel growled.
Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, but then somehow squared her shoulders and met his gaze again. She was fighting it, doing her damndest to get herself under control, though it couldn’t be easy. Gabriel knew the brand of aphrodisiac Honoria favored. It mucked with the brain as much as the body and took a damn long time to wear off. And the more a person ingested, the worse it got. Amelia couldn’t have had too much, otherwise she would already be writhing on the floor like the others.
He wanted to sag with relief. They’d get through this. Somehow.
“True,” Honoria said. “But you both are my guests of honor. I was going to give her the same consideration I gave you.”
“No need,” Amelia said quickly. “I choose him.”
“Are you quite certain? There are some fine male speci—”
“She’s sure,” Gabriel snapped and took Amelia’s hand. Damage done. Now all he could do was control it as best he could. They were getting out of here. Now. “Thanks for the party. Gotta run.” As far away from here as we possibly can.
Blood Debts (The Blood Book 3) Page 19
