Gladiators by Lacey Carter Andersen

Author:Lacey Carter Andersen [Andersen, Lacey Carter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adult, Erotica, Fiction, Reverse Harem, romance
Published: 2018-04-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Murmurs rose from his friends. Out of the corner of Lana’s eye, she caught sight of her gladiators stiffening.

“But brother—“

“Are you deaf?” he shouted, cutting off his sister. “I said whip her.”

“We had a deal.” Adonis’ voice held an unspoken threat that frightened her more than the whip.

Beside her, the guard pulled his whip from his belt, but his expression was uncertain.

“I do not make deals with slaves,” the senator hissed.

She felt a strike of fear. Her gaze went to the guards positioned around the practice area, and then she caught a flash of light. On two of the balconies, archers stood poised to strike.

If my gladiators attack, they’ll be killed.

So she did the only thing she could think of, she laughed. “If beating a tied female is what you must do to feel like a man again, then I will gladly be your sacrificial lamb.”

The senator rose, and even from a distance, she could see the rage in his expression. “Whip her.”

The gladiators started toward her. Guards surged forward.

She looked to them. “Stop!”

They froze.

“Don’t.”

All of them looked horrified. She could feel their need to protect her. But instead, she bent her head in acceptance. And waited.

The first sting came across her shoulder. She had to grit her teeth to stop from crying out. Three more times they whipped her as she bit down so hard on her cheek that she tasted blood.

The guard behind her spoke, his voice shaking. “Is that enough?”

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough!”

She wasn’t sure how much time passed. Strikes rained down upon her, and hot tears ran down her cheeks. She wanted to be brave. To not react, but the pain was unlike anything she’d imagined.

But I can’t call for my gladiators, or all of this would be for nothing.

When she fell into the dirt, sliding down the pole, her hands still bound together, the strikes finally stopped. Everything was silent. Too silent.

“Enough,” the senator said, and there was no satisfaction in his voice. “Untie her and throw her back into her new home.”

The guard sliced her free, but it was Cadmus who picked her up off the ground.

She cried out, the wounds on her body screaming to life with the movement, and her vision blackened. Her gladiator whispered reassuring words without meaning as he carried her into the tunnels, barely lit by flickering torches.

When he laid her gently on her belly on her pallets, he stirred the fire higher. A moment later, she felt cool water washing her back. Long minutes passed of him washing her while she sobbed, gripping the blankets beneath her as pain radiated throughout her body. Then, very carefully, he dressed her wounds with torn strips of fabric and a strong smelling ointment.

Somewhere behind her, a cautious voice shouted, “Cadmus, time for practice!”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then spoke softly. “In a few days’ time, every person responsible for your pain will be dead. And this, I promise you.”

For a long time, she lay crying softly.

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