American Fighter (3 page)
Authors: Veronica Cox,Cox Bundles
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic, #Short Stories & Anthologies, #Short Stories, #Romance, #Multicultural, #Single Authors, #Multicultural & Interracial
Chapter One
Lucius tipped his head back as he finished his wine. He pursed his lips and listened to the sound of the rolling dice, an illegal, gambler’s game that he had no interest in that night. Any other night, he would have participated in the poor man’s game and lost a coin or two if he had any to spare, but that night, he was drowning his sorrows in as much wine as said coin could buy.
“You seem to be interested in purchasing the keg, my friend,” a sullen, elderly man sat down on a stool beside Lucius and ordered a glass.
“I’m in no mood to talk.” Lucius raised his hand an inch off the table to signal he wanted another glass. To show good faith, he put his coin down on the counter and waited.
“That’s a shame because I hear much talk about what happened at the other end of the city today, my friend, and I believe you are the cause of that talk.” The old man looked imploringly at the man in his sights, a young man with shaggy, brunette hair and eyes darker than a night without the moon. He tipped his head back and took a swallow of the cheap, gritty wine he’d ordered.
Lucius tried to block out the remembered screams of the young, golden-haired woman he’d been trying to persuade the guards to release. He finished off his third glass of wine and shook his head when the slave tried to offer him bread or olives to stave off the drink that would surely put him under the table any moment. Then he turned his attention to the elderly man with a bitter gaze.
“And what if I am that cause of the talk?”
“Then I’d have to tell you this is not the cena libera! You are at the wrong place,” the old man said between guffaws as he pointed at the door. “You are in a popina,” the man insisted.
“I know where I am,” Lucius spat while he demanded another drink. He could afford to buy five more before the night was over, and that would surely help him forget about her stormy, gray eyes and the dribble of blood from the corner of her lip. “I have no use for the gladiator banquet.”
“You must be much drunker than I thought if you think there is no use for the banquet, my friend.” The old man watered down his wine by half and sipped it. Then he put in another dash of water and took another sip. “You see, you will be paid more if there are bets placed against you.”
“I’m not doing this for the money.” Lucius thought he knew better than to open his mouth about his true intentions, but the old man was picking a sore spot and he hadn’t had a chance to talk about it with anyone else. The only person he would have talked to had been taken.
The old man seemed interested as he leaned forward on his stool and put his wrinkled, knobby hands on Lucius’ shoulder. “Then what are you doing it for?” he whispered hoarsely as conversation around them continued. No one was listening, and Lucius felt comfortable enough to divulge a tidbit of information to the old man. He was as harmless as a fly.
“Do you know the citizen who likes to collect redheaded slaves?” The old man nodded when Lucius asked. “One of her collectors snatched away a woman by the name of Alba. She was a close friend of mine, and I intend to get her back tomorrow.”
“How?” the old man asked with a scoff.
“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.