Read Online Crimson and Steel by Ric Bern - Free Book Online

watched them sit as such for a long while that night.
    Eventually they returned to his den. After drying by the fire they curled around one another on his bed of padded furs. They lay together like spoons in a drawer with Ulf’s head tucked just above Asmin’s. Their legs tangled together as intimately and naturally as brambles in a thicket.
     
     
    Chapter Six
     

     
    Javad laid facedown on a silken divan and curled his toes in pleasure. Stripped to the waist, he relaxed his girth and sighed as a pair of soft hands massaged his hairy back with scented oils. Resting his sagging cheeks on folded hands, he took in the sights and sounds of the bathhouse. Spread before him was the opulent playground of the noble citizens of the city. The footprint of the pool was roughly the size of a small domicile, and it was lined with marble statues depicting Bacchus, Hercules, and satyrs. An effigy of Venus made into a fountain that poured water from an amphora stood at the far end. Aristocrats young and old frolicked in the tepid green water. Many were receiving massages around the pool as Javad was, or were having manicures or other health and beauty treatments performed. Wine was being consumed in abundance, and though late in the night, none seemed at all concerned with the time.
    The pleasant serenity of the bath was interrupted as Braxus and a crew of his cronies mounted the steps and pushed their way into the main chamber.
    “Javad,” the charioteer cried out. The thick silver chain around his neck swayed as he took purposeful strides toward the Easterner. “Javad, I want my property now.”
    The slave master struggled to roll over as the masseuse scrambled away. He had just achieved a seated position when Braxus shoved him back down on the divan.
    “Where is your man, you sniveling Persian pig?” He jabbed an iron finger into Javad’s flabby chest until he cried out in pain.
    “Oh, leave him be, you jug-headed poltroon,” came a voice tinged with gentle mockery, echoing from the edge of the pool. Braxus spun to see a full-figured woman of forty looking up at him with hazel eyes, lips turned up in a smirk.
    “Don’t you start, Kallista,” he warned, stepping toward her. “I’ve no time to suffer your insults this night.” Patrons began easing away, and many had already snuck out of the building entirely.
    “Insults…from me?” She feigned surprise, luxuriating in the tepid water. “I would never cast barbs at someone as powerful and…vigorous…as you, arena champion.” Her eyes devoured him from calves to curly hair. She wrinkled her freckled nose and took a sip of wine, feeling a familiar tingle between her thighs.
    “I’ll deal with you later,” he said with a growl rumbling at the back of his throat and pointing a finger toward her. He then spun on his heels to face Javad, but he had disappeared from the divan. A quick glance revealed that he had donned his orange robe and was attempting to hide behind a statue of Mercury. Kallista tittered and covered her mouth when she saw how his belly protruded from the trim figure of the messenger deity.
    “You!” Braxus snarled and stomped after him as Javad tried to run on his stubby legs. The charioteer gripped him by his shoulders and spun him around. Shaking him, he again yelled, “Where is your man? Where is my woman? I want her, fat man. You will give her to me, and you will return my money.”
    “Please, Lord, please,” Javad said pleadingly. “You have not given me time. The praetor said by morning. My man will find her by then and bring her back. Patience, Lord, patience; I beg of you, patience.”
    “He’s not going to find her in the dark, fat man. Why should I wait? Why not kill you now?” Braxus pressed his forehead to Javad’s and gripped the hilt of his poniard. The muscles in his jaw clenched and flexed.
    “Because I will slay you where you stand,” resounded an answer. Marcus and four of his Nordic guards stood at the entrance, fully