All Their Midnights, page 9
“I admire bravery in women and men alike,” he continued. “And I will grant you a reply to your rather imprudent question. I will not beat you, nor will I return you to Julius Titus. You will be free to go. However, I will point out that staying is to your benefit. My personal slaves are treated very, very well.” He edged even closer.
Certain he was going to kiss her, Leotine lowered her eyelids halfway, her nipples hard and aching for his touch.
To her surprise, he straightened. Her eyes flew completely open and she stared at him, her lips parted, while he watched her with an irritating smirk.
“What shall it be, Leotine? The streets of Rome or my bed, which you seem to find so comfortable already?”
“I’ll take your bed,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper.
He nodded, his broad chest expanding as he drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “Are you well enough to begin your duties immediately, or do you require more time to recover after your ordeal?”
Immediately. Have his big, warm body possess hers immediately. Have his sensual lips and wet tongue devour her nipples immediately.
“I’m a bit sore, but not in any place that should hinder us,” she replied, gazing at him through her lashes.
“I’ll be gentle with you until the bruises fade. Then we can explore other forms of pleasure.”
“Other forms? You enjoy…pain, master?”
“Not pain. Pleasure to the extreme, shall we say. You will learn. And don’t fear, Leotine. I have no interest in forcing a woman, slave or not, into anything from which she gains no pleasure.” He ran a fingertip over her lower lip, and then he traced her neck and collarbone. “When a woman’s heart pounds, nipples ache and pussy is slick with lustful heat, that is when I want her. Her pleasure becomes mine. Her very essence is mine. Then, if she’s loyal, if she proves worthy of my affection, I’ll make it possible for us to devour each other.”
“Devour?” Oh gods, was he talking about the blood sharing? Openly referring to it? Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all. What if he forcibly made her a blood-drinker? According to his history, he had never done such a thing but only changed those completely devoted to him. Still her faction didn’t know everything about him.
“All in good time, Leotine,” he said. “For now I will send a slave to see to your needs while I engage in daily exercise. When I’m finished I’ll summon you to the bath where your duties will begin.”
“Yes, master.”
Leotine watched him go, relishing the play of muscles in his back and arms before he disappeared from view. The thought of making love with him already had her wet and trembling. It was strange, but for the first time she would gain pleasure from a creature she had sworn to kill.
* * *
Though years of practicing to conceal her emotions allowed Leotine to maintain a calm appearance, excitement coiled tightly inside her on her way to Cyprian’s private bath. Within moments she would be making love with the most sensual man she had ever known.
But he’s not a man. He’s a monster.
The young female slave who guided her to the bath paused and pointed to an archway.
“Through there.” The woman rested a gentle hand on Leotine’s arm. “Don’t be afraid. He’s a kind master to those who please him.”
“And those who don’t?” Leotine asked quietly.
The slave’s lips parted as she drew a long breath, glanced away, and headed back toward the kitchen where she worked.
A shiver rippled down Leotine’s spine. Just as she’d thought. He wasn’t nearly as harmless as he would like her to believe. But what Roman man was? Many ruled their households with violence, and Cyprian had double the capacity for cruelty. He was both a man and a blood-drinker.
Bound by duty and lured by drives of her body, Leotine stepped into the bath. Her gaze fixed on Cyprian, she nearly forgot to breathe.
Naked, he stood by the pool, his back to her. Beautifully developed muscles rippled beneath flesh gleaming with sweat. His firm yet well-rounded bottom made her ache to touch it and squeeze the taut spheres.
He glanced over his shoulder at her and blinked slowly, almost lazily, in spite of the lust glistening in his eyes.
Across the room, Sextus cleared his throat. Leotine glanced in his direction. She had noticed him from the corner of her eye when she’d entered, but she had been far more interested in Cyprian Augustus’s perfect body.
The slave, also naked and sweat-drenched, carried two swords with which they had obviously been practicing.
“I’ll leave you now,” Sextus said, placing the swords aside only to cover himself with a toga.
The servant went to pick up the weapons, but Cyprian said, “You may leave mine.”
Sextus nodded and strode out of the room.
Once they were alone, Leotine walked to the sword and ran her fingertip over its handle. “Did you ask him to leave it so you could perhaps use it on me?”
Staring at her with those predatory eyes, Cyprian approached with long, slow strides. “Of course not. Why would I do that? I have another sword, one of flesh, on which I intend to impale you. Painlessly, of course.”
“Yet no less deadly?” she murmured.
He tilted his head slightly to one side, studying her.
Leotine resisted the urge to wrap her hand around the sword and attempt to destroy him then and there, before he could twist her emotions any further, yet that would be foolish. The chances of her taking him by surprise and fending him off were next to impossible. To ensure his demise, she must first earn his trust. Not only that, why had he asked the slave to leave his weapon behind? Why was he giving her a chance to use it on him? Did he suspect that she wasn’t what she claimed to be? Was he baiting her? There were far too many unanswered questions for her to risk acting on impulse. Not with a man like Cyprian Augustus.
“It’s time for you to fulfill your duty,” he said, his hand closing over hers around the sword.
“What?” Leotine glanced into his eyes, momentarily startled. He did know what she’d come to…
A smile flirting with his lips, he slowly guided her hand away from the sword and tugged her to where a lovely engraved container of oil and a strigil rested beside the bath. Relief washed over her. He merely wanted her to clean and massage him.
Once again staring at his powerful, naked body, she swallowed hard. Merely clean and massage. What had she been thinking? There was no way she could endure touching him without surrendering to at least some of the emotions battling inside her.
Kate Hill, All Their Midnights
