Sovereign's Gladiator (8 page)

Devon looked again. The hand clutching one woman’s hip bore a red tattoo. A lot of Kani’s men had them. Devon made out the pattern. It was not a Raenthe mark. The red serpent in the circle might be a native symbol. Was Devon’s provincial garrison going native? Devon didn’t like it.

The blonde woman on the nearest couch crouched forward like a leopardess over her man, her hips high so her man was nearly out of her except for his tip. His gleaming hard shaft was on display. The woman’s hair was glittering wet. She lowered herself down to consume him. She shot a side glance at another woman on another couch. The women were exchanging glances as well. There was another wager going on here.

The men were vying to see who could last the longest. The women were seeing who could make her man come first.

The blonde threw her head back so that her long hair brushed the tops of her man’s thighs. The posture thrust her breasts out. The man’s hands squeezed and re-gripped her breasts. His face screwed up. He sweated, fighting for control.

Kani caught Devon watching them. “Who do you like?”

The question startled Devon. Then he caught on. It was a side wager. Devon dodged the question. He nodded toward the man under the blonde and said laconically, “I hope you don’t have money on that one, Kani. I think he’s done for.”

The man yelped, “I think so too!” He dragged his woman down hard on him, and abandoned himself to the last throes of passion, pumping hard and fast, making her buck. She laughed, triumphant.

All pretense of conversation was interrupted by the man’s exultant wailing.

As he came down from climax, the man realized his defeat and told the woman astride him, “I won’t pay you.”

One of the two men still in contention said brightly, “I will!”

The other two women were riding their racehorses, fast. One woman reached back and squeezed the balls of her mount.

Devon had a hard-on, despite his mild disgust. Erect cocks, wet balls and male thighs couldn’t help but arouse him.

Devon’s own dinner companion, seated at the foot of his couch, was trying to get him interested. Her hand stole up his thigh. He gently brushed her off.

Kani noticed his gesture. “You don’t like desert women,
ma dahn
?”

“They’re extraordinary,” Devon said. “But unless the food or the company is bad, they’re too distracting at dinner.”

“I can send two or three to your chamber for later. Take your pick before they’re used.”

“No, Kani,” Devon said, forced to be blunt. “I was trying to be gracious, but truth is, I did not come here for pleasure. You can’t do better than the capital for that.” Devon produced a gold coin. He flipped it at one of the two remaining contenders and commanded him, “Finish.”

The humping sped up and spent quickly.

Kani got a mean look in his eyes. He said, “You’re very young for a hard-ass.”

“I was not chosen Sovereign for the softness of my ass,” said Devon.

At that, Kani seemed to remember his station. He became contrite. “I’m afraid we must strike you as crude and primitive out here in the wilds.”

Yes, you do
, Devon thought. He said instead, “Don’t worry. I did not come here to be entertained. If I wanted delights, I’d have stayed in Calista City or Laklare.”

Kani settled back, mollified. “I have heard of your spectacles in the capital. I would love to see a gladiatorial contest.”

“I can arrange that,” said Devon. “Soon.”

Kani’s bushy dark brows lifted, wary.

“It is a hard duty here. I see that. Kani, I am sending you home to a well-deserved rest.”

The governor erupted with a roar and a sloshing of wine as his heavy goblet slammed down onto his table. “No!”

Devon was ready for this reaction. He had seen this before. Men in dire circumstance grew to love their hardship. It warped the soul and made the soul cling to what was destroying it.

“Go home,” Devon said evenly. “Things will look different in time.”

Kani great paws gestured as if grasping for hope out of the air. “I know I’ve disappointed you,
ma dahn
. You don’t understand the needs of this place. I do.”

“I know I don’t know this land,” Devon said. “But it needs fresh eyes. You know this place too well. You will feel better back in civilization. You have provided a great service in a brutal land. I left you out here too long. You’ve become too accustomed to brutality. Let go the burden. It is not yours anymore. Don’t fight me on this, Kani.”

“You can’t do this to me!”

“You are not happy now. You will be. You must trust me.”

Kani took a huge breath, exhaled with lowered eyes. “Yes. I’m holding on too tight.”

“Don’t dwell on it,” Devon said. “Know that I am not angry. This winter of your soul will pass. Now forgive me if I pass on the dessert course. We’ll talk again in the daylight.”

Devon rose.

His couchmate looked up hopefully for an invitation to follow him.

She didn’t get it.

Devon passed the guard station at the base of one of the flights of stairs that led to his chamber. He nodded to the guard and ascended. His chamber door stood open. Fire shadows moved within.

As Devon neared, he heard a husky female voice inside the chamber sing out, “I found the whore door!”

“I won’t be needing that,” Devon said, appearing in the entranceway.

Xan and the first triad of guardsmen looked up, stopped what they were doing.

The first triad comprised the bald twins, Milus and Silas, and the broad young woman, Rodriga. They all snapped to attention before their Sovereign.

Devon waved them down. “Carry on.”

Rodriga was standing beside a secret entrance. It had been well camouflaged, blending in perfectly with the rest of the wall.

The secret door could be barred from the inside. Its heavy crosspiece looked like part of the room’s decorative molding.

The other side of the secret door had no crossbar. Devon could lock people out. He could not be locked in. No harm in that.

The secret door led out to a narrow rock stair that spiraled down in perfect darkness to a secret exit on the rear side of the citadel.

Such a passage was good for smuggling in illicit lovers. It was no use to Devon.

Though he supposed a second exit was a good thing to have. “Just make sure this is barred fast from the inside tonight.”

“
Ma dahn
,” Rodriga acknowledged with a brisk nod.

Devon’s guards had also found the spyholes. Milus and Silas had patched them. There were a lot of them.

“Kani’s men told us the peepholes are for the slaves. So they can look in on you and see if you need anything without disturbing you by asking.”

Devon had noticed that Kani regarded his slaves as animals and didn’t concern himself with privacy from their eyes.

Devon wanted the spyholes masked off.

“We got all of ‘em,
ma dahn
,” Rodriga said.

Devon lifted a ringed forefinger toward the ceiling. “Did you look up?”

Rodriga swore and hastily left the chamber.

There was no lock at all on the entrance door from the landing.

“I can install a bar,
ma dahn
,” Xan offered.

“Not necessary,” said Devon.

There were guard stations at the base of both sets of stairs. An intruder would need to use a grappling hook to climb up here from the big hall below without passing the guard stations. And they would be noticed if they tried.

Rodriga’s thumping footsteps sounded on the ceiling, and, in a moment, her voice sounded from above, a little too clearly, “Silas, you sunburned the top of your head.”

Devon nodded up to the hole above Silas’ head. “Cover that.”

Silas looked up to the fingers—Rodriga’s—wiggling through the spyhole. Silas dragged a heavy chest across the floor to stand on while he nailed a metal plate over the hole.

Rodriga came back down, and the triad finished securing the room.

Xan had a fire going in the hearth.

“Thank you,” Devon said and dismissed them.

He was alone in the chamber.

His door opened again.

Xan had returned. Devon regarded him for a fearful moment that extended as if time itself had stopped.

Xan’s overwhelming masculinity filled the chamber.

“I will call you if I need you,” Devon said and turned his back.

His fear was realized.

Xan’s hand closed on the back of his neck, as one might collar a child, but not like a child at all. Devon felt the intent in Xan’s hand. Desire flowed through his palm in a strong current, powerful sexuality in it. Devon smelled male passion.

And Devon’s pulse leapt. A tingle prickled under his jaw. A singing filled his head. He tasted the sourness of fear. Elation burned in his blood. Expectation fluttered in his middle. His balls clenched like fists with his cock’s rising.

This could not be happening. This was an assault on the Sovereign. Xan wouldn’t dare.

He dared.

Chapter Five

Oh gods.

Does the racehorse tremble so when he submits control of his power to another? Does he trust his rider to drive him where he wants to go—because go he must.

Devon did not command Xan to stop. He feared Xan would not obey. Then Devon, the Sovereign, would need to kill him.

And right at this moment, Devon would rather die than tell Xan to stop. It was only what Devon wanted.

Xan’s palm glided slowly down Devon’s arm, warm. Xan’s touch made Devon shudder in fear and need. Xan traced Devon’s hard muscles and elegant bones. It was the lightest of gestures, yet so personal, so powerful.

Xan’s fingertips caressed the backs of Devon’s fingers and glided back up his arm and across his shoulder.

Xan’s hand slid up Devon’s neck under his jaw to hold his head as he might hold a goblet. Devon murmured, “How dare you!”

Xan spoke, so close behind him Devon felt his breath move his hair, “You radiate desire.”

Do I?

Xan’s hand moved down again, smoothing soft fire across Devon’s shoulder, down the length of his arm, raising all the short hairs on his body. Devon was afraid of him. Afraid of himself.

Xan stepped in closer. Their clothes brushed. Devon felt Xan’s body heat the full length of his back.

Xan moved Devon’s hair off the back of his neck with a light brush of his hand that left Devon breathless.

The first soft press of lips on his nape was electric. Xan’s lips grazed across the back of Devon’s neck, sending him flying into soaring wonder.

Then Xan’s hard, scar-flecked arms encircled Devon’s waist from behind and drew him flush against his hard body. The gladiator’s sex pressed against Devon’s ass.

Xan loosed the cross pin that clasped Devon’s belt. The belt ends fell free. The belt stayed up now only by the pressure between their bodies.

“You could die for this,” Devon whispered.

“I could,” said Xan.

Xan stepped back away from him. Devon felt his absence like a wound. His belt fell at his feet.

Then Devon’s tunic was dragging upward. He lifted his arms to let Xan pull the silky blue garment up over his head. As the fabric swept clear, Devon plucked off his gold circlet and tossed it aside. He would not be taken again with his crown on.

Before Devon could turn to face the barbarian, both of Xan’s palms slid down Devon’s sides, stopping to bracket his hips and hold him in place. Xan stepped forward, closing the space between him. His clothed erection pressed at Devon’s bare ass. Xan’s breath moved the hair over Devon’s ear. Devon looked down, saw Xan’s murderous hands holding his hips, Xan’s fingers framing his erection. Devon’s cock stood up, fully stiff, waiting, begging for Xan’s touch.

Xan’s fingertips toyed at the edges of Devon’s pubic hair.

Devon’s eyelids felt heavy, weighted with desire. He frowned in mixed elation and deepest dread.

This was irresponsible, irrational.

I don’t care.

The firelight itself froze in anticipation.

Devon did not give up control easily. Like something breaking, he yielded.

The lord of the lower realm ruled here. But it was not just his cock demanding. In his heart of hearts as well, Devon needed this.

This barbaric land had a hypnotic power of its own.

This was reckless. It was dangerous. None of that changed the reality of this moment. This was going to happen.

Devon turned to face Xan with a solemn frown. His sex brushed Xan’s palm in turning. Devon’s eyelids fluttered on the tremor that coursed through his body.

Devon’s eyes nearly shut. He could not bear to close them entirely, but could not bear to meet the gladiator’s gaze full on. He thought he might burn away, body and soul.

Devon lifted his hand to Xan’s mouth, and touched his fingertips to his lips. His lips were remarkably soft. Xan took Devon’s forefinger into his mouth, surrounding it with wet, sexual warmth. Xan’s teeth closed on one of Devon’s rings, tugged it loose, and slid it off Devon’s finger with a slow drag of his lips. Xan let the ring fall into his palm. He went down on the finger again, tugged the other ring loose and slid it off, let it drop. He moved on to the next finger.

Devon wore a lot of rings.

Xan laid Devon back on the bed—gently this time. Then he stepped back and stripped out of his clothes. Devon stared. Burning.

A sense of danger seared like a firebrand in Devon’s midriff.

Xan crawled over him and stroked Devon’s body with his tongue.

Devon’s chest heaved with his deep breaths. He gazed up at the patch in the ceiling. Xan licked the inside of Devon’s thigh. Xan’s tongue drew liquid fire in the crease where his leg joined his torso. He sucked on Devon’s balls.

The last time they had been together, Devon had been wearing a cock ring. Xan marked its absence, running his tongue around the rim of Devon’s helmet where the ring used to be. He drew circles of melting fire around Devon’s cock. Desire expressed from its tip. Xan licked it.

Broad strokes of Xan’s velvet tongue drove Devon to the farthest edge of endurance.

And then Xan came up, leaving Devon’s sex begging for his touch.