The Gladiator's Mistress (Champions of Rome) (16 page)

Chapter 26

Valens

Phaedra’s juices remained on his tongue and lips. No matter if he lived a few days more or until he was an aged man, for the rest of his life Valens would always equate the taste of Phaedra to that of the perfect female. He plunged inside of her, harder. He went deeper and deeper and yet never deep enough. He wanted to possess Phaedra, to make her his. He wanted to hear her call out his name as she climaxed and know that he alone brought her rapture. He wanted more of her beyond this night.

Valens had spent years thinking of Phaedra, wondering about her, hoping that the Fates would again bring them together. In his mind he had made love to her several times over, although the fantasy had never compared to the exquisite bliss of reality. In all the times he thought of her, never once did Valens imagine that she would tell him that she loved him. Valens thrilled at the idea.

Another thought came to Valens, a horrible thought. What if Phaedra, like Valens many times before, was physically bedding one person while mentally making love to someone else? He thrust once, hard.

Arching her back, she gasped. Her hands gripped his shoulders. Collecting first one wrist and then the other, he held them over her head and balanced on his elbow.

“Tell me,” he said with his nose nuzzled into her hair. “Who do you love?”

She stiffened under him and stopped moving. “Apologies,” she said. “I had not meant to speak aloud and offend you.”

Damn. He hated the patricians. Valens’s hips slowed. Well, it was not the first time a noblewoman had bedded him. If he survived the three fights, it would not be his last. Yet Valens hated the thought of Phaedra not being with him fully. He wondered who had earned her love. Her dead husband? Or—the gods forgive him—that bastard Acestes? Phaedra struggled against being pinned to the bed, and he released her wrists.

She held his face in both hands and placed her lips on his. “I cannot make sense of it, either,” she said. “We met twice before today. I understand if you do not feel the same.” She stroked her thumb over his chin before letting go of his face. “I am not sure that I understand myself.”

The urge to cry came upon Valens with such suddenness that he could not stop the first tear. It landed on her cheek and trailed into her hair. He began to move again and kissed her deeply, wanting to be deeper inside of Phaedra.

“I love you, too,” he said.

He wanted to make her climax a third time and maybe a fourth, but the raw ardor he felt for Phaedra left him breathless. Stopping the ocean’s tide would take less effort than staying his passion. His cock throbbed and Valens growled with satisfaction as his seed spilled inside Phaedra.

He collapsed on top of her, spent, sure that he had never ejaculated so hard before. His pulse throbbed throughout his body, echoing his pleasure. He wanted to say something affectionate and soothing. He needed to assure her that his declaration of love had not been brought on by his impending orgasm. “I learned to read and write because of you,” he said. He sighed, unhappy with his horrible excuse for romantic pillow talk.

She stroked the side of his face from brow to chin. “That pleases me. You won your freedom and have become your own man, Valens Secundus. I knew you would.”

Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with sleep. They had taken their pleasure, and now he longed to show her tenderness and caring. He knew of no better way than to kiss her eyelids.

“What of you?” he asked. “Did your father agree to your bargain for a husband of your own choosing?”

“He did,” she said.

Valens rolled off her and lay on his back. She curled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. Lying together, their arms and legs tangled, felt simple and pure and right. He imagined them years from now like this, assuming he survived the fights. True, they could never marry. Valens was not a patrician, or even a member of the equestrian class, the wealthy of Rome who had not been born aristocratic. He had enough coin to qualify for the honor. Yet he did not have any serious supporters in the Senate who would vote for him when the time came. Even if he overcame all those odds, he still lacked a father, and therefore a clan, an essential piece of becoming an equestrian.

All that mattered little. If Phaedra were free of marital ties, they could be together like this always. Many patrician women kept long-term lovers, and both were accepted as a couple in society. True, any offspring would be considered illegitimate. True, Valens wanted more for Phaedra than to be his mistress. None of that could be helped. All that mattered was that they had found each other again.

Phaedra snuggled more deeply into Valens’s arms and let out a sigh that reminded him of a contented cat. He kissed the top of her head, satisfied to hold her as they slept.

“He did agree,” she said, her voice hoarse and slow. “Pity that he is not keeping his bargain.”

Valens became alert. “What do you mean?”

Phaedra rolled over and placed her chin on Valens’s chest. From his vantage point, he saw down her back to her perfectly round bottom. His cock stirred.

“I married to save my father from being removed from the Senate due to his lack of funds. Even though Marcus gave Father enough coin to last several lifetimes, it is all gone. Again I need to make a profitable marriage.”

“But your father has not chosen a husband for you yet.”

Phaedra’s lips blazed a trail across his chest. She rolled her tongue around one nipple while brushing his other nipple with her fingers. His cock lengthened and he rubbed it against the soft curve of her hip.

She placed one final kiss on his collarbone. “I think he has picked out a husband for me. Someone asked to marry me.”

“Has he accepted?” Valens asked. “Have you accepted?”

She shook her head and her hair spilled onto his chest. “Not yet. I have one week to find someone I might like better. That is as much of our bargain as Father’s willing to keep.” She pushed up on her elbows and kissed his lips. He did not kiss her back. “I know that one week is not a very long time, but I would meet you here every night if you are willing.”

He was and he was not. “I would love to,” he said. “But I cannot.”

“You cannot? What is so important? I thought you said . . .” She sat up and combed her hair with her fingers. “I have thought of you often, Valens Secundus. I enjoyed this night. I can see it did not mean the same to you. You may go.”

He had wounded her, he knew. That was why he took no offense at being dismissed. Valens ran his fingers over her cool silk sheets and waited for her to acknowledge him. She turned to look and he patted the mattress beside him. “Come to me.” She looked away for a moment, and then with an exasperated sigh lay down beside him. She did not rest her head on his chest, but rather leaned her back on his side. He rolled over so his contours fit hers and his hard cock rested in the cleft of her buttocks.

“My life is complicated right now,” he said.

“Everyone has complications.”

She had a point. He kissed her shoulder. “Make love to me again.”

She flipped her hair so it landed across his face. He wrapped the tendrils in his fist and held them up. He placed a kiss at the nape of her neck before smoothing her hair over her shoulder.

“I wish we could be together for the rest of our lives, but we cannot. I cannot marry you, nor can I share you with another man,” he said.

“My father will not accept the proposal for another week, so now I belong to no one.”

“It will be difficult enough to leave your bed today. A week from now, it will be impossible.” He should tell her about returning to the ludus, his sister’s thievery, all of it. But pride forbade him from speaking. He could not bear the thought of Phaedra seeing him as anything less than a man worthy of her love. “Make love to me again.”

She pressed her round, firm buttocks onto his aching cock. “Just once more and that will be it between us.”

“I wish it were different and we could be together always.”

She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. “So do I.”

Valens knelt behind Phaedra while she knelt in front of him. He entered her from behind. He wanted to watch as she closed her eyes, her mouth grew moist, and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Yet Valens knew if he could see her, then Phaedra could see him . . . and the unmistakable regret etched in every line of his face.

Chapter 27

Phaedra

Phaedra woke alone in her bed. Valens stood at the door and faced the garden. He had not bothered to don his tunic, and the moonlight bathed his well-formed body, making it look as if he were cast in silver. She had not spoken a word, or even moved. Yet Valens somehow sensed she had woken.

“Every night for the past four years I have looked into the sky and found Polaris. It brought you to me,” he said. “For so many reasons, I hate to leave you, and yet I must. This cannot be our life. We cannot live upon clandestine meetings, nor will we ever be together legally.”

True, making a life together would be hard. She was willing to risk much to be with him, and yet he was not willing to do the same. She said nothing, knowing it was best for them both to let him slip away. The candles had burned out long before, and he rummaged in the dark for his tunic and sandals. Once dressed, he leaned over and kissed her. Not passionately or hungrily as before, but slowly, tenderly, as if he were trying to memorize this very moment. Or perhaps that was what she wished were behind his actions.

“Terenita will show you out of the house,” she said. As she spoke, her maid emerged from a room nearby.

Valens stroked the side of her face. She pressed her cheek into his hand. The words
Stay, please,
were on her lips. Yet she did not voice them. Instead she said, “Wherever I go, you will always be with me.”

“And you with me.”

He followed Terenita from the room. Phaedra lay in the darkness and the silence. Her eyes burned. Her chest felt tight. Yet she did not sob, or even shed a quiet tear. She had no word for what she felt now. A part of her had vanished with Valens, leaving her an unfinished person.

Chapter 28

Valens

Dazed, Valens walked down the empty streets. He avoided the crowded parks and squares where men and women gathered for a late night’s entertainment. The voices of the actors and singers carried above the sounds of conversation and laugher. He wondered how anyone anywhere might feel happiness, not to mention joy. Even if he survived the three fights, what would there be for him to live for?

As a gladiator he had never considered taking a wife and making a family, even after Paullus gave his permission. No child should grow up with the blood and gore found in the arena, or so he told himself. Once Valens had won his freedom, his excuse had changed—Antonice needed his undivided attention, although in that, he had failed, too.

All the while Valens knew the real reason he had never taken a wife. Phaedra. She had become the beacon, and the rest of the women he met were the rocky coast.

Yet they could share nothing else beyond tonight. Death in the arena, sword in hand, with the cheers of the crowd, seemed a sweet release. His feet carried him to his neighborhood. He rounded the corner and his villa came into sight. He was reminded immediately that he did have something else. He had Antonice. He could not give up, because if he did, then she would die.

A slave opened his front door.

“Can I bring you wine or food, dominus?” the slave asked.

In a few short hours, Valens would no longer be the master. Even though he would not be a slave, he needed to become accustomed to taking care of his own needs again. “Thank you, no,” he said, and then he dismissed the slave for the night.

Alone in the atrium, Valens knelt by the pool. Cupping his hand, he brought water to his lips and drank. He rubbed the back of his neck with a wet palm. He should sleep. The dawn drew near and the day would be more tolerable with some rest.

He went to his room and lay down on the bed, once comfortable, now too cold and too big. He should not have left Phaedra.

Staring into the darkness, he saw nothing. He dared not close his eyes, for when he did the faces of gladiators defeated long ago floated before him. Did they beckon him to Elysium? Had their fate really been meant for him? Intermixed with the visions and worries, he thought of Phaedra. Always Phaedra.

Knowing that sleep would continue to elude him, Valens rose. He found his canvas sack packed with a few tunics and a jar of bathing oil. Without benefit of taper or torch, he felt his way through the darkened corridors and found Antonice’s room.

She lay with the blankets pulled up around her head, so nothing more than her nose showed. He sat on her bed. She shifted, whimpering in her sleep. What nightmares came to Antonice?

He shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes and gasped. “Valens?”

“I did not mean to frighten you.”

Antonice pulled the blankets tighter overhead. “I am fine.”

“I have come to say good-bye.”

“Why? Where are you sending me?”

Valens patted the top of her head. “Nowhere now. I am the one to leave. I am returning to the arena. Just a little more than a week and I will be back. Leto will care for you, although I have told her you are not to leave the villa at all.”

Antonice sat up and the blanket fell to her shoulders. “Do not leave me,” she said. “I promise to be good.”

“I know you will.” Earlier he had decided not to tell his sister why he was returning to the ludus and his fights. What good would come from upsetting her and making her feel responsible? But then he never would have guessed that Antonice might view his leaving as abandonment. Besides, word would spread, and Valens could not protect Antonice from gossip. “Damian taking money is serious business,” he said. “Thievery is a capital offense.”

“I took nothing,” she said. “Besides, he said it was stolen already.”

“No charges were brought against the quartermaster. You, on the other hand—” His words pained him, and Valens could say no more. He breathed deeply and tucked his emotions away. “Charges were brought against you and Damian. Damian’s father arranged for him to serve with the legions in Germania.”

“And me?” Tears clung to her lashes.

He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. Instead of returning his embrace, she folded her arms tighter across his chest. “I will keep you safe,” he said.

“That is why you are fighting.”

He nodded. “Yes, three times in a series of games. I will be at the ludus if you need me. Send word and I can come home.”

Antonice started to tremble and her teeth chattered. “Thrice? You mean to fight thrice? You never fought in the arena more than once a season. You said gladiators who did not know their limits were the ones who lost.”

Had he said that? It sounded like wisdom he might have spouted during his time as Champion of Rome, but Valens did not recall ever speaking those exact words. “There is no other way,” he said. “If you receive word to leave the city, go without question. I want to keep you and Leto together.” He hugged her tighter. She wrapped her arms around his middle.

“I love you.” Antonice buried her face into his chest and sobbed. “You are all I have.”

“I will return to you. When I do, I will be a better brother.”

“What if you do not come home?”

Ah, now she asked the hard question. What would happen to her if he died in the arena? “I will come back to you,” he said.

“I am so sorry,” she said. Or at least that was what Valens assumed she said through all the sobs and snivels.

“I must go.” Valens stood. “Behave for Leto. We are not her children, but she loves us both better than our own mother did.”

“I know. I am so sorry for the trouble. Please say you forgive me.”

Did he forgive Antonice? Because of her he found himself returning to the arena and a life he had sworn to leave behind. Phaedra had just a single week to give to Valens, yet he could not be with her because of Antonice. Aside from spending every night making love to Phaedra, Valens would have devoted every day to finding a way for them to remain together. Despite all that, Antonice was his sister. They shared the same blood and bone and history. Did he forgive her? In all honesty, he had never blamed her in the first place. It was his failings, his lack of involvement in her life—both before and after their mother’s death—that had allowed Antonice to fall so far. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said.

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “I pray that the gods keep you, Brother.”

“I pray they keep you as well.”

Without looking back, Valens grabbed his canvas sack from the floor and left his sister’s chamber. He did not stop to wake the steward or speak to the housekeeper. A strip of pink shone on the horizon, bringing some color to a colorless world. With his back to the rising sun, Valens descended the Aventine Hill and left behind all he held dear.