Read Online One With the Darkness by Susan Squires - Free Book Online Page A

over the bath cloth she had wound about her body had been delicate and smooth. He pressed down the feelings that thought evoked. She lorded it over him as no woman should be allowed to do. Still, she was unlike any of the simpering Roman women who had come to goggle at him in the market. She had the courage to buy him. Her scent was exotic. Did she bathe in cinnamon? That spice brought fifteen times the price of silver for an equal weight. She must be very rich. She had an energy about her that was nothing less than exciting. She knew he’d been excited by her tonight, in spite of his revulsion at being her slave. He’d be glad to plunge his cock inside her, if only to hear her screams of helpless passion. That would teach her who was truly master here.
    His mind skittered over her incongruities. Her touch had been gentle. She had knelt before him, yet had never given over her mastery of him. Puzzling.
    She seemed to have no man. And this woman needed a man to teach her a woman’s place. Was her husband dead? In his country such a woman would be claimed by another man before the corpse of her husband was in the ground. Yet she talked of power and needed a bodyguard, not because she was afraid of ravishment but because she thought her political enemies would assassinate her. What kind of woman was that?
    He followed her into the house, if one could call such a clean and spacious place a house. More like a fortress, only built of stone, not wooden palisades, and open to theelements at the rear. Heat emanated from the floors. The engineering wonders he had seen tonight … whole pools of hot water, for instance, when there was no volcanic spring …
    But back to the woman. He vowed to be the worst purchase she had ever made. She was crafty; he had to admit that. She had baited him to make him remember he was a commander of men who owed a debt that could only be fulfilled by his slavery. She had made the terms of owning him quite clear, and the alternatives.
    So he would serve her. Not willingly but because he must, at least for now. And best she keep her promise of freedom. When he was free, he would have his revenge for the submission she had required, if it was achieved with the last breath in his body. And then he would go home to Centii in the southeast corner of Britannia, back to the land and his place as first son.
    However, freedom was not to be a gift. She had said he could buy it. But in what coin? Who knew what the price might be and whether he could bring himself to pay it?
    T HE NIGHT WAS paling. Livia could feel the sun pushing up toward the horizon. It would be dawn in a little more than an hour. Her vampire nature required protection from the sun.
    “Lucius,” she called. The man raised his head from where he was setting out bowls on a table. She didn’t have to give the command.
    He looked conscious. “I had not realized it was so late.” He bustled about closing the great wooden doors against the coming light. He paid no attention to the huge barbarian slave just now hesitating in the middle of the room. “Your repast is laid out in your chambers, my lady. I shall send in Catia to serve you.”
    Livia’s vampire hearing took in the growl of the slave’s stomach at the mention of food. “Not necessary. I will serve myself. But you can find me a short sword and a scabbard.” She motioned the slave to follow her. Her chamber had a great bed covered in goose down mattresses and laid with embroidered bedding. A small table sat next to a carved chest that held her grooming utensils and cosmetics. Three more tall chests held clothing. The carpets were of bold red and blue woven in intricate detail from her native Dacia. Romans did not care much for carpets, preferring their warm floors bare, but carpets reminded her of her roots. On a long table to one side were laid several dishes of simple food: bread still warm from the oven, smelling yeasty, roasted root vegetables from her land beyond the city walls,