The Gladiator's Temptation (Champions of Rome) by Jennifer D. Bokal

Author:Jennifer D. Bokal [Bokal, Jennifer D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-02-09T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Fortunada

Like a gale before a storm, a violent energy buzzed under Fortunada’s skin. The pressure grew until she could contain her loathing for Dax and his deeds no more. Pointing a steady finger at the door, she said, “I sent one of your guards for clean bandages and salve nearly a quarter hour past. It is not as if this filthy sty is so large that he has gotten lost. Go and find him, Dax the Marauder.”

Baro drew in a sharp breath through his nose. “Excuse my wife,” he said.

While she should have given more thought to the consequences, Baro could not expect her to acquiesce to this brute simply because he knew a few polite words.

“The events of the day have taxed her sensibilities, and she is overwrought,” Baro continued.

Fortunada wanted to slap them both.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Dax said. His broad shoulders and large arms spoke of strength. A tiny scar lifted the corner of mouth, giving him a perpetual smirk, and she imagined that he did constantly laugh at the world. For how could he feel anything beyond disdain for a place that allowed him to take with impunity?

Dax regarded Fortunada, rendering her motionless with his stare. His eyes were so dark she knew not where iris ended and pupil began. He narrowed his gaze and regarded her further. In that moment, she understood how foolhardy she had been to argue with such a dangerous man. Icy tendrils of fear rose from her belly and shot through her veins.

She wrapped her arms around herself, fending off a cold that chilled not just her body but her mind and soul as well. In Rome, being a patrician kept her in relative safety. Here, none of the strictly guarded rules of society mattered. As much as she knew it would be to her advantage to befriend Dax, she could not bring herself to do so and could manage only a quiet acknowledgment of his power. “I am completely at your mercy. You have nothing, if not the advantage.”

Dax shook his head and examined the sleeve of his tunic. His lank and dirty hair fell forward, creating a curtain of filth. “You know my name, and have even given me the title of ‘Dax the Marauder.’ Still, I know not what you are called.”

“Piss off,” Fortunada said, smiling sweetly. Ah, well, it was too much to expect—even from herself—that she would concede for long.

“An incongruous name for such a lovely face,” Baro said. He lifted a single eyebrow and quirked up one side of his mouth. The gesture, though ridiculous, dispersed some of the tension.

Dax laughed, and said, “It is one that matches her personality beautifully. Most men prefer women with the virtue of reticence, you know.”

Oh, how she loathed Dax! Like fire, hate filled her, melting away the icy fear until only the vapor of wrath remained. Rage was an emotion in which Fortunada found power and comfort. “And you have forgotten my request for linen bandages and salve for my husband,” Fortunada said.

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