GladiatorsAtonement

Gladiator’s Atonement

Amy Ruttan

When Eratos gains his freedom from his violent master he has
only one thing on his mind—atonement. He chases his former master Thelonius back
to Antioch, and a ghost from his past emerges from the shadows, none other than
his master’s wife—a woman who hates the man as much as Eratos does.

Helena detests her husband, but thankfully he is never home
and doesn’t desire her. Now he has returned home to lick his wounds and Helena
wonders what has him so nervous. When she spies a shadow lurking she is
thrilled Eratos has returned and realizes why her husband is fearful.

Helena decides to get her own revenge on the man who
destroyed her life, and to finally taste ecstasy in the arms of Eratos, the man
who stirred her dormant passions long ago. Eratos has thought only of Helena
from the moment he first saw her, and having her under his former master’s nose
sounds like sweet revenge indeed.

But Thelonius stands in their way, a man who they both want
dead.

Chapter One

“Destiny waits alike for the free man
as well as for him enslaved by another’s might.”

The Libation Bearers—Aeschylus c. 525–456 B.C.

The city of Antioch bustled around Eratos and no one paid
him any heed. Why would they? He was almost as bronzed as a Roman now, his long
hair shorn away. The only thing which put him apart from the others were his
eyes, it was why he wore a hooded cloak. He did not need to attract any
attention.

It was his eyes that attracted Thelonius to him in the first
place.

Just thinking of his former master made his blood boil. He
clenched his fist, focusing his gaze on the rich residential district nestled
against the base of Mount Silpious. It rose like steps created by the hands of
the gods, seated high above the poorer districts.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he pressed his back against
the marble statue of the city’s patron goddess Tyche. The sun was setting, and
he had to move quickly to get a feel of Thelonius’ villa before night fell.
Antioch was dangerous at night, but then any city was.

He hated cities—the closed-in feeling of them, all the
strangers. Eratos longed for the open heaths of Britannia, the small villages
where it was safe to walk at night because everyone was family. Of course, it
was all gone now.

It had been gone for some time, since Caratacus of the
Catellavani had lost his lands along the river. The Romans had built a city
there, on the blood of its people.

Focus, Eratos.

He had come here for one reason and one reason only.

Kill Thelonius. Eratos moved along the wall of the city.
Keeping to the shadows, he headed to one of the walled-off sections that
divided Antioch. It was where the upper class was separated from those beneath
them, and where Thelonius lived.

He knew where Thelonius hid. He had been to the villa once
when Thelonius first bought him. He would never forget that place. Shaking his
head, he tried to pry the nightmares of what he endured there from his mind,
but to no avail. It constantly haunted him.

Just like the thought of the woman Thelonius hid there,
Thelonius’ wife. Though his former master never touched her, all he did was
force her to watch as he took men either with their consent or not. Her
sympathy, their shared pain in that moment so long ago still calmed him. She
was beautiful, and hurt just as much as he.

In that moment, which lasted eternity, he found solace in
her grief and her face got him through many a night when the nightmares came
again and again.

Focus.

Keeping his profile low, Eratos strode with purpose toward
Thelonius’ villa. It sat overlooking the city, an ominous beacon of pain and
torture. Ignoring the beads of sweat that broke across his brow from
anticipating his revenge, he opened the gate that was used by the servants and
sneaked into the garden.

Crouching down in palm fronds and a small grove of olive
trees, he peered through the branches and surveyed the villa. He could see a
couple of hired guards pacing on the roof.

So the fool is scared, and well he should be.

Eratos tried not to chuckle, but he was pleased Thelonius
was frightened. The guards would be not hard to take down, he could probably
bribe them to leave their post—such was the nature of hired men. It was just
the opportunity he needed to figure out when to strike.

Shifting his weight so he balanced on the balls of feet, he
made mental note of the easiest access points, until a cry of pain echoed
across the garden. A shudder went down his spine when he recognized that voice.

Helena.

It took all of his might not to run for her, but he did not
have long to wait for she came fleeing from the villa, her hands covering her
face as she ran quickly through the garden before coming to stop at the stone
wall and slumping against the stone gate at the edge before the drop-off. A
steep cliff he often thought of throwing himself off in the earlier days.

Eratos crept closer. He wanted to comfort her, the way she
had comforted him after Thelonius was done with him. He could still recall the
softness of her skin, the gentle touch as she cleansed his wounds and the scent
of myrrh enveloped him in a warm embrace. Eratos could not let her know he was
there, even as his heart beat faster at the thought of being so close to her
again. Thelonius’ warning about what he would do to Helena if Eratos did not
comply still rang in his ears. He was thankful Helena had not been sold to the
slave traders upon his escape from Thelonius.

Helena wiped her tears on the back of her hands and let out
a frustrated growl, obviously angered by Thelonius’ return. It had been many
years since Thelonius had been in Antioch. Eratos knew, because he was forced
to remain close to his hated former master.

It was why he fought so hard. He struggled to survive in the
gladiatorial arena for this moment, this glimmer of freedom to seek revenge on
Thelonius. Taranis and his little Roman had granted him this gift, and for that
he would be eternally grateful.

He would kill Thelonius, freeing Helena, and then it did not
matter what happened to him. Eratos would be content to die, for his task would
be complete and the pain would be over.

Helena sobbed again and he shifted, a branch cracking under
his feet. Her spine stiffened and she turned around.

Merda.

As quickly and as quietly as he could he backed toward the
alleyway he had used to sneak in, hoping Helena wouldn’t follow him.

* * * * *

Helena ran from the villa, tears of hatred streaming down
her face. Only when she came to the edge of her garden did she stop, leaning
against the stone gate to catch her breath.

Why did he have to return?

She had just gotten used to Thelonius being gone. He left
five summers ago, and it was the most peaceful time of her life.

Yet her solitude had been won over a terrific pain and just
the memory of Thelonius’ departure brought back memories of the brave warrior
who had endured the very depths of Hades. She had been enthralled by him in
that moment, captured by his brilliant blue eyes as her husband cut his skin
with a blade, marring him, taking pleasure in the pain he caused the warrior.

Helena had gone to him and repaired some of the damage. They
did not have the same words and did not understand each other but she knew he
understood she meant him no harm. They both shared the same burning hatred for
Thelonius. She often wondered why he did not strike back at Thelonius during
his stay in Antioch, but she could not ask him.

During her five years alone she fantasized about the
warrior. Though she did not know a man’s touch, her body yearned to be
possessed by his. She longed to know the caress of his hands. If Thelonius
dared to touch her she would strangle him with her bare hands.

Even thinking about draining the life essence from Thelonius
made her fists clench, her blood boil. She would kill him herself, but
Thelonius held something over her, and like the Celt, she was just as much as a
slave to Thelonius as he was.

Why could he not have stayed away?

Something had caused Thelonius to run back to Antioch with
his tail between his legs, for on his arrival he had shut himself away for days,
speaking to no one, seeing no one.

Wiping her tears on the back of her hand, she looked out
over the city, down to the river and island where the Imperial Palace gleamed
in the waning daylight. Still, the city of Antioch would be full of life, even
in the darkness. Antioch was an outpost, a gateway to the vast wild stretches
of desert. It was oasis for weary travelers as much as it was a place to hide.

And Thelonius was definitely hiding from something, the
question was what?

The rustling of olive branches caught her attention. Craning
her neck, she looked toward the shaded part of her garden and saw a shadow
flicker through the bushes and duck behind the alleyway that led from her villa
to the city. It was the back entrance her servants used.

“Are you well, mistress?”

Helena looked up to see the two hired guards her husband
paid to watch out for him. They were men of honor obviously because they were
concerned about her safety, though that was not part of their job.

“I am fine, thank you. I’m just going to go into town before
it becomes too dark.”

“Do you require an escort?” the guard asked, frowning. It
was then Thelonius stuck his fat head out the shuttered window.

“Soldier, you will not leave your post. Helena is perfectly
able to go to town on her own. She is not the one who needs protecting.”

A brief look of disgust passed over the guard’s face. “Yes,
master.”

Thelonius glared at her before closing the shutter and
disappearing back into the dark confines of his bedchamber. Helena just shook
her head and continued on her way.

She crept toward the alleyway and carefully peered around
the corner. A brief glimpse of a cloak disappeared around the corner of the
house. Helena could almost hear her father’s voice warning her.

Be careful. Do not trespass in the city alone.

Usually she wouldn’t, but something propelled her forward.
She kept to the wall, trying to remain in the shadows that grew longer as the
day waned. Her heart thundered between her ears, drowning out the sounds of the
city beyond the walls that enclosed her home from the rest of the city. She saw
a shift in the darkness, the sound of shuffling feet.

“Who are you? Show yourself.” The only answer was silence,
but she knew there was someone there. “I will not leave until you show yourself
and explain your reason for hiding in my orchard.”

“You’re either very brave, or very foolish.” A tall, hooded
man stepped from the shadows.

Foolish. I am foolish.

Helena placed her back against the wall to steady herself.
She was not prepared for a virtual giant of a man to emerge from the shadows.
He was tall and wide, built like a legionnaire.

“Or perhaps you have nothing to live for.” He did not move
any further than the edge of the darkness that had concealed him. There was
something familiar about his voice, something teased at the back of her
recollection that she knew him. Leaning forward, she caught a flash of
brilliant blue from under the hood.

“Eratos?” she asked, stunned. “Is it…can it be you? Truly?”

He pushed back the hood, and though he was tanned, the
brilliant blue eyes and grim determination set in his strong jaw gave him away.
His long golden hair was still shorn away and new scars marred his face, but it
was Eratos.

“You remember me,” he whispered.

“Of course I do. I could never forget you.” Helena stepped
forward, his eyes piercing into her soul.

“Aye, the same with me,
anam cara
.”

The heat of a blush stained her cheeks. She did not know
what
anam cara
was, but it sent a thrill of excitement through her. “You
have learned my language and I am ashamed I don’t know yours.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “It is all right.
It is just an endearment. I am glad to see you are well.”

“Well…as well as can be.” Letting out a sigh, she looked
back toward the villa and then turned back to Eratos. “I take it you are the
reason Thelonius has returned to Antioch to lick his wounds.”

An evil grin broke across his face. “Aye, he flees from me.”

“How did you escape?”

“It is a long story, but suffice it to say I am here to seek
my revenge. I did not count on guards though.”

Helena stepped forward, touching his arm. “You shall not
worry about them. They are not loyal to my husband. I will give you access to
him.”

Eratos picked up her hand and brushed a kiss across her
knuckles. A burst of flames shot through her at the feel of his lips against
her skin. Her body seemed to come alive at the intimate touch, especially from
the man who had filled her fantasies for the last few years.

“If there is anything I can do to repay you, I would gladly
do so.”

Helena bit her lip. She could think of only one thing she
wanted from Eratos. She wanted to continue what had almost happened those many
years ago, when she had been cleaning him up after Thelonius had beat him, when
Eratos had taken her in his arms and captured her lips with his, roughly
pressing her against the mat, grinding his hot body against her, and the gods
help her, she had been so willing.

Yet it did not happen. Thelonius had discovered them and
savagely tore them apart. That had been the last time she had seen Eratos.
Thelonius had been so jealous, and it made her pleased she had vexed her
husband so.

She wanted Eratos to finish what he started. She wanted
Thelonius to know that a mere slave—and man he thought was his—wanted her, not
him. Helena wanted Eratos to take her innocence, she wanted his seed.

She wanted her own revenge on Thelonius.

“I will give you access to seek your revenge on my husband,
but before you kill him I ask of you one thing.”

“Anything,
anam cara
. You have my undying gratitude
for your assistance.”

“I want you to lay with me for a fortnight. I want you to
mate with me.”