by Celia Aaron
“Bad idea.” Roth shot his arm out and pushed me behind him.
“Again,” the demon taunted, his voice gravelly. His face had lit with delight when I’d hit him, disconcerting me. He darted to the side so he could get another look at me, though Roth swiveled to keep him separated from me. “Hit me again, little immortal. I like the feel of your violence.” His massive shaft now stood at full attention despite the metal accoutrement.
I tried to twist from behind Roth so I could pummel the smile off the demon’s face. I was more than ready to take down this asshole.
“We only seek passage to the catacombs, Voltaire.” Roth backed up until he had me pinned between his body and the wall. Eventually, I stopped struggling. But only for the moment. I still intended to get my point across to the pleasure demon that I wasn’t here as his plaything.
“You come on my turf and bring a tantalizing tidbit like that but won’t offer her to me?” The demon had stopped trying to get at me and stood nose to nose with Roth.
I calculated whether I could slip out from behind him and summon my bow from the ether. One glance to the rage demon peering in from the outer door told me that I wouldn’t have enough time to take them both down before they were on top of me.
“Coming here was a mistake. We’ll just be leaving.” Roth took my arm and pushed me back toward the rage demon at the door.
“Not so fast, Roth.” The pleasure demon’s offhand tone hid a not so subtle warning. “You can’t waltz in here and enjoy the ambience without giving something in return.”
“You aren’t touching Lilah.” A cold blast radiated from Roth.
“Lilah, is it?” The demon rolled the word around on his studded tongue. “I’m sure there’s something you can offer. That sweet piece of ass would do perfectly.”
I’d had enough of the “stay behind me” routine and didn’t appreciate being talked about like a piece of meat. “I’ll punch your lights out, you son of a bitch. How’s that for an offer?” I fought to free myself from between Roth and the wall.
“You’re just encouraging him.” Roth spun and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. His scent enveloped me, shooting warmth through all the places that needed to remain cold.
Voltaire watched Roth’s actions with obvious interest. I twisted my head around so I could see him. Of course, he was eyeing my ass like it was a drink of water and he was a dying man in the desert.
After a moment of intense standoff, the demon purred, “If you won’t give me something, then you can show me something.”
Been there, done that, saw the Oracle.
“We’ll be going now.” Roth pushed past Full Metal Jacket, dragging me behind him, only to find the hulking Rannok blocking the exit.
“Like I said, someone has to pay.” The pleasure demon leered at me as the tension ramped up a notch. Roth’s eyes locked with Voltaire’s. Both males were coiled tightly, a promise of violence about to begin.
The pleasure demon was the first to back down. He simply held his hands out, palms up. “Listen, I don’t need any more violence up in here tonight, though I wouldn’t mind it, of course. So, this one time, I’ll make you a deal.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?”
“I won’t hurt her, though I’d really, really like to.” Voltaire licked his lips, or more accurately, the metal loops that held his lips captive. “But you will.”
Another blast of cold from Roth, but this time it was straight from the Arctic Circle. Even the “performers” stopped what they were doing to watch the scene.
“We play along, and you’ll grant us safe passage to and from the catacombs?” Roth grated out.
I craned my neck back and stared at him. “Hang on a second. I think I just hallucinated. You’re not actually agreeing to this?”
“Safe passage, yes.” Voltaire nodded and waved the vampires back to their prey. The witch moaned when she was bitten again. I wasn’t about to join her as the M in the S&M sandwich. No way was I going to be trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey just so Roth could tell me something he could have already told me in the safety of his home.
But the stark set of Roth’s jaw told me he’d made up his mind. A slight tilt of his head sealed the deal with the demon. Son of a bitch.
“Let me go!” I began fighting against Roth’s rock-hard chest, but his grip tightened on me as I thrashed.
“Now that’s more like it.” Voltaire’s eyes grew hooded.
Before I knew it, Roth had gathered my hair behind my head and wrapped it around his fist. I yelped with surprise before raking my nails down his neck.
“Yes.” The demon motioned for the bloodied nymph to come over. She knelt in front of him and took his metallic length into her mouth. “Watch me, little immortal.” His eyes burned through me.
“Goddamnit, Roth, if you—” But when I’d turned back to him, Roth was gone. The ember-eyed incubus had taken his place. He yanked my head back with a smile and wrenched my left arm behind me, pressing my body hard into his. I shuddered involuntarily, feeling a desire that seemed entirely out of place in the current circumstances. He eyed my lips.
“If you try it, I’ll bite you.” I bared my teeth.
“That’s it, my fiery Lilah.” Voltaire’s gaze bored into me, but I wouldn’t look at him. Couldn’t watch what the god of heavy metal was doing to the poor nymph. Besides, I had my own problems.
Roth gave another strong pull on my hair, making me arch into him as he slanted his mouth over mine. That first bit of contact was like fire in my veins, but I wasn’t going to give in. I bit his lower lip, drawing blood, but that made him kiss me even harder, with more need. I wriggled against him, the crushing strength of his chest maddening. His lips were hot and firm. I felt as if someone had pranked me and put jelly where my knees were supposed to be.
I stopped fighting him, heat blooming inside me. Something different than I’d ever felt before. His tongue probed my lips, wickedly flicking and licking them. And, gods help me, I opened my mouth for him.
He angled his head, deepening the kiss and brushing me with the sheen of shadow on his cheeks. His grip on my hair relaxed, and I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. The heat of his tongue stroking mine made my thighs feel like they were on fire, and I opened my legs just enough so he could press his hard length against me. I would have gasped with pleasure if my mouth weren’t otherwise engaged. I was branded by his lips, the possessiveness of this kiss.
When he moaned low in his throat, a sound full of the deepest desire, I knew I was lost.
19
Roth
Smack. I stood firm, not batting an eyelash as Lilah worked out her frustrations on me.
“I told you that you had to trust me, carissima.”
Smack. I didn’t move to defend myself from her vicious slaps, because I deserved them. I could blame the kiss on the incubus, but I knew I’d done exactly what I’d wanted to do from the first time I set eyes on Lilah. And it had been worth the wait. The feel of her soft lips and her yielding body made the punishment seem like nothing more than a light breeze.
We’d finally escaped Voltaire’s lair, Rannok depositing us at the entrance to the catacombs, but only after Voltaire had his fill of the nymph—or perhaps that was the other way around.
“I trusted you, and all I got for it was being mauled by an incubus so a pleasure demon could get his rocks off!” Smack.
I couldn’t stop my lips from twitching into a smile. “Lilah, if you keep touching me so sweetly, I feel I may just fall in love.”
She stilled her hand before bloodying my lip again. It seemed as if a look of hurt crossed her fine features before she turned stony again. The thought that I’d done anything to hurt her made me ache, but what was done was done.
She gritted her teeth. “You set me up.”
“No. I didn’t know that would happen. I assumed Voltaire would make us watch some of his ‘entertainment’ to see us squirm. I
didn’t know he’d make us become part of the show. And for that, I apologize.”
“You apologize for kissing me?”
I detected something in her voice other than ire but couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“No. Never for that.” I wasn’t sorry about kissing her, and the incubus seemed to be in agreement—I felt its satisfaction alongside my own. When surrounded by the pleasure and pain in Voltaire’s club, it had threatened to take over. I’d only managed to quell its desires by focusing on Lilah’s safety. When I realized my darker side would have to come out and play to keep her from Voltaire, the incubus was only too happy to oblige.
But this was different. The incubus wasn’t able to take over completely. I controlled the demon within me and was rewarded with Lilah’s delicious lips. I felt the second when she gave way to me, and it was sweeter than I could have imagined. Her luscious mouth was made for only the gods to kiss, but I had tasted her and wanted more.
Smack.
“Don’t ever ask me to trust you again.” Setting up her stone walls again, she gained control of her anger. She clenched and unclenched her hands, likely feeling the itch to hit me again.
“As you wish.” I motioned down the dusty pathway. “Shall we?”
“I just want to get as far away from the tin man as possible. If I never set eyes on that freak again, it’ll be too soon.” She shuddered.
I wanted to comfort her, show her that she would come to no harm as long as I was around, but the warning look in her eyes told me it was best to keep my hands to myself… at least for a little while. Instead, I led the way through the dank subterranean maze.
The path was close and dark, but my night vision and the paltry torch I’d found at the entrance were enough to keep me going in the right direction. Skulls lined the walls, and bones crunched beneath our feet. The air was stale and heavy, as if the history of thousands of years weighed down around us. The way branched off on several occasions, but I knew exactly which paths to take and which to avoid. The ancient tunnels were filled with pitfalls for unwary adventurers. I should know—I helped build them. Though when I roamed here in the old days, there was no earth above these ancient streets, only sky.
We walked silently for a quarter of a mile before I began to sense I was close. The feeling this spot elicited had never faded over the years, and I was drawn to it with laser-like precision.
“We’re here.” I rounded a corner and stopped before a wall filled with human femurs. I placed one hand on an outcropping of stone; one still stained a rusty brown from the blood that soaked it so many years ago.
“We’re where?” She glanced around, likely focusing on the stacks of bones.
“At your opening chapter.”
20
Roth
AD 205
Lutetia, Gaul (now known as Paris, France)
Night had fallen, and the moon shone high and bright over the tents of the Roman army stationed in Lutetia. I hurried through the dusty streets, hoping to finally hear the good news I’d been waiting for. I’d been called from my revelry with my men by the commander of the forces in this region. But when I reached his tent, I knew something was amiss.
The commander stood outside, his back straight and his gaze stern. “Where are your top men?”
I gave a formal salute as my stomach twisted. “My top men? They are at evening meal.”
“You let them drink and whore instead of doing their duty?” The commander spat at the ground near my feet.
“They are off duty for now, Commander. I thought—”
“You thought? You are a soldier, Lisalius. Your duty is to follow orders. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, Commander.” The answer left my mouth with no effort whatsoever. It had been drilled into me since I was a young man. But the question and the commander’s rough tone caused a foreboding to take hold in my breast.
He turned to one of his guards. “Go and fetch ten of his men.”
A chill of fear shot down my spine. The look in the commander’s beady eyes did nothing to change the feeling. My unease grew as the time eked by, though I knew better than to ask him any questions. But I already knew the answer—it was written on the faces of the other guards. Those who would not meet my gaze. Ten men.
Four years ago, my legion had fought our way through the mountainous regions of Gaul and across the flat plains on our way to Lutetia. Many barbarians had fallen under my sword, and my legion was known as the most heroic, and vicious, in the entire Roman Army. From a farm boy turned legionnaire at the age of seventeen, I had risen through the ranks until I was second only to the commander. Now thirty years old, which was a feat in itself for a man of martial pursuits, I was assured of a promotion to even higher levels—commander of the forces stationed in Lutetia.
Ever since I came to this land, I’d loved it as if I were one of the Parisii, the people who lived in the fishing village along the banks of the river. So it was only proper that the Roman governor make me commander of the army here. I could finally settle down, find a woman, and father children. I would serve Rome here, alongside the Parisii.
But now I realized I hadn’t been called before the commander for an honor. Ten men. The thought kept ricocheting through my mind. Ten men. I had been called to be made an example of, to be decimated.
Once my men arrived, some still drunk from their wine and women, the commander had them all line up, with me standing among them.
“Centurion Lisalius!” My heart dropped, that feeling of falling while remaining still, as the Commander’s voice rang out.
I stepped forward. “Yes, Commander.”
“Do you remember an order I gave you not two weeks ago to raze the local barbarians’ infirmary to the ground?”
“Yes, Commander.” I knew what was coming next. My men would die for my disobedience.
A month ago, a small group of the Parisii had taken part in an uprising against Rome, trying to rid their lands of the invading Roman Army. Though they had failed miserably, the Empire deemed them a threat. Rome gave orders to crucify many innocent Parisii as a sign of what happened to those who rose up against their benevolent masters. The streets ran red with Parisii blood as the commander demanded the deaths of over a hundred men. I’d been against such a strong retaliation, but it was not my business to question the emperor. I carried out my orders as if the emperor himself had directed me.
However, when the commander ordered me to take a legion and raid the Parisii’s primitive hospital and kill all within it, my obedience fractured. Over the years, I’d sent many a man to the shores of the Acheron to await the ferryman to the Underworld, but this was different.
I prided myself and my five legions of men on our ferocity in battle. But I also taught mercy in dealings with the non-warring peoples of Gaul. Now I was to massacre an infirmary full of people who never raised so much as a stone against Rome? Like so many times before, I steeled myself and told my soldiers that Rome demanded blood and would have it.
In the end, I went to the hospital, intending to do my duty despite my misgivings. I could only pray to the gods that few Parisii would be there. When I arrived, there were scores of sick and wounded women and children. Some crying out for the fathers my men had fought and killed earlier that very day. My men began turning the beds and destroying what few medicines there were. Doing as Rome commanded. The women and children huddled together, having already suffered untold horrors at the hands of centurions.
It was then that I had to decide. What was I? A Roman bound to obey and nothing more?
Not wasting a second, I yelled for my men to stay their hands. “This is not what Rome, the Rome I know, would want. Not what she would ask of us, her sons.”
My men stilled and looked to their leader. Only one spoke. “But Rome commands the—”
“Rome commands we serve with honor!” I roared.
I motioned to the sobbing children clinging to their mothers. “Is this honorable?”
; The silence in the room was only broken by the children’s cries for comfort. I had taken a chance, hoping my men would take this stand with me.
“Well, is it?”
After what felt like an eternity of silence, my second in command spoke up. “No.” Prator’s voice grew louder with each syllable. “Who is with us, brothers?” His resolve strengthened my own.
A chorus of “I am” rose from my men, each one placing his blade over his heart while looking to me.
I was grateful for my men’s loyalty, but there was no time to waste. “Evacuate, now!”
We immediately began assisting the wounded to their feet. The operation took little time with all my forces working as one. As my men hurried the Parisii into the nearby forest, I set the hospital ablaze. The fire would destroy any evidence of our actions. Rome would be none the wiser.
Now, standing before the stony commander, I knew none of my men had talked. Someone in another legion must have seen what we’d done and reported it. I would never know the culprit. The commander gave no evidence and needed no real reason to impose his brand of discipline. Now, because of me, my men would pay the price.
Decimation had long been practiced by the more ruthless commanders of the Roman Army. If a legion had failed during battle or otherwise disgraced the Empire, ten men from one hundred would be selected by drawing straws. The commander would then order the remaining ninety men—often friends, brothers, and fellow warriors of the ten—to stone them while they cried for mercy. Rome never hesitated to discipline its army, even if it resulted in the loss of some legionnaires every now and again.
