would never diddle with a woman that belonged to you. If you feel that strongly, you should take her before someone else does.”
They moved toward the fort at a new clip. Terentius remained quiet, his muscles tense with a bizarre heat he only encountered during battle.
“I’m sorry,” Terentius said.
“For what? Practically cutting my balls off over a woman?”
“No. For believing you’d do it. But remember this. I’m serious. If you even consider touching Adrenia, I will cut your cock off along with your balls and feed them to you.”
“Sir,” Victor said, apparently convinced of Terentius’s sincerity.
“From this point forward we concentrate on apprehending Sulla.”
“As the gods and goddesses will it.”
Terentius nodded, his confidence undeniable. “As the gods and goddesses will it.”
Chapter Four
“An evil life is a kind of death.”
Ovid
Roman Poet, BC 43–c. AD 18
“Adrenia.”
Adrenia started and turned to face the male voice. Her heartbeat galloped headlong. Sulla stood at the side of her home, his sudden appearance an unwelcome development. She hated him.
She didn’t return his smile. “Sulla.”
His blond hair fluttered in the wind like a boy’s after a game of rough and tumble with rowdy companions.
He crossed muscular arms over his blue tunic-clad chest. “You don’t sound pleased to see me.”
She folded the cloth on her lap into sections, more to ignore his almost wild-eyed attention. His icy gaze always sent shivers racing up and down her spine.
Also ignoring his statement, she said, “My father is in the fields. He should be back later.”
“Then perhaps you could offer me hospitality while I’m waiting?”
Oh goddess. She did not look forward to having him in the house. “Mother is inside. I’m sure she’d be delighted to entertain.”
He tilted his head to the side, a curious and cunning light in his eyes. “I see. What are you working on there?”
“I just finished weaving these garments for the market.”
He moved closer, and when he sat on the bench, she stiffened. He didn’t smell unpleasant—at the very least he must visit the baths. Yet she didn’t like his presence so near. She didn’t look at him. An ant traveling the ground near her boot garnered more of her attention. Let him think her dim-witted if he would. The more he underestimated her, the better.
He placed an enormous hand over her folded fingers. Heat poured off his skin, and she stared in fascination at the scars crisscrossing the back of his hand. He had ugly, monstrous hands. She remembered Terentius’s hands—they were every bit as large as Sulla’s, almost as scarred. But somehow Terentius’s fingers were sculpted into exquisitely well-carved masculinity.
Before she could form any response to his gesture, she looked up, and he smiled. His white teeth and wide grin sent a hot and cold sensation through her, as if he could somehow see the deep-rooted fear she harbored of him. Perhaps he could. If she could sense things about other people, surely someone else could as well.
“Do not be afraid of me, Adrenia.”
“Who said I was afraid?” She slipped her hands from under his and placed them on her thighs. “You shouldn’t touch me this way unless there is an understanding...an intimacy.”
Sulla’s golden eyebrows rose a higher on his forehead. “I think I understand you and you me. We could arrange something mutually beneficial.”
A shiver worked its way up her spine, but she couldn’t restrain her next words. “What do you propose? I know nothing about you, sir. You are a recent arrival in Durovigutum. So far I’ve seen you buy a slave for my father, and the slave never returned with you. Why is that?”
His jovial expression faded into sharp edges that created grooves along his mouth. He might be her age, but he looked older and filled with experiences she didn’t want to know existed in the world.
“She ran away. I lost her somewhere near the
They moved toward the fort at a new clip. Terentius remained quiet, his muscles tense with a bizarre heat he only encountered during battle.
“I’m sorry,” Terentius said.
“For what? Practically cutting my balls off over a woman?”
“No. For believing you’d do it. But remember this. I’m serious. If you even consider touching Adrenia, I will cut your cock off along with your balls and feed them to you.”
“Sir,” Victor said, apparently convinced of Terentius’s sincerity.
“From this point forward we concentrate on apprehending Sulla.”
“As the gods and goddesses will it.”
Terentius nodded, his confidence undeniable. “As the gods and goddesses will it.”
Chapter Four
“An evil life is a kind of death.”
Ovid
Roman Poet, BC 43–c. AD 18
“Adrenia.”
Adrenia started and turned to face the male voice. Her heartbeat galloped headlong. Sulla stood at the side of her home, his sudden appearance an unwelcome development. She hated him.
She didn’t return his smile. “Sulla.”
His blond hair fluttered in the wind like a boy’s after a game of rough and tumble with rowdy companions.
He crossed muscular arms over his blue tunic-clad chest. “You don’t sound pleased to see me.”
She folded the cloth on her lap into sections, more to ignore his almost wild-eyed attention. His icy gaze always sent shivers racing up and down her spine.
Also ignoring his statement, she said, “My father is in the fields. He should be back later.”
“Then perhaps you could offer me hospitality while I’m waiting?”
Oh goddess. She did not look forward to having him in the house. “Mother is inside. I’m sure she’d be delighted to entertain.”
He tilted his head to the side, a curious and cunning light in his eyes. “I see. What are you working on there?”
“I just finished weaving these garments for the market.”
He moved closer, and when he sat on the bench, she stiffened. He didn’t smell unpleasant—at the very least he must visit the baths. Yet she didn’t like his presence so near. She didn’t look at him. An ant traveling the ground near her boot garnered more of her attention. Let him think her dim-witted if he would. The more he underestimated her, the better.
He placed an enormous hand over her folded fingers. Heat poured off his skin, and she stared in fascination at the scars crisscrossing the back of his hand. He had ugly, monstrous hands. She remembered Terentius’s hands—they were every bit as large as Sulla’s, almost as scarred. But somehow Terentius’s fingers were sculpted into exquisitely well-carved masculinity.
Before she could form any response to his gesture, she looked up, and he smiled. His white teeth and wide grin sent a hot and cold sensation through her, as if he could somehow see the deep-rooted fear she harbored of him. Perhaps he could. If she could sense things about other people, surely someone else could as well.
“Do not be afraid of me, Adrenia.”
“Who said I was afraid?” She slipped her hands from under his and placed them on her thighs. “You shouldn’t touch me this way unless there is an understanding...an intimacy.”
Sulla’s golden eyebrows rose a higher on his forehead. “I think I understand you and you me. We could arrange something mutually beneficial.”
A shiver worked its way up her spine, but she couldn’t restrain her next words. “What do you propose? I know nothing about you, sir. You are a recent arrival in Durovigutum. So far I’ve seen you buy a slave for my father, and the slave never returned with you. Why is that?”
His jovial expression faded into sharp edges that created grooves along his mouth. He might be her age, but he looked older and filled with experiences she didn’t want to know existed in the world.
“She ran away. I lost her somewhere near the
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