Centurion's Honor (Imperial Desires, Book One) (6 page)

The room was suddenly chilly as he sharpened his gaze upon her. The smug smile that tugged at his lips made her want to pummel him.

“So you come to me only when you want something. What is this misfortune that has befallen you?”

She remained quiet. To tell him the truth would give him power over her. She’d hoped he wouldn’t ask, but all the while she knew he would.

“If you do not tell me then I cannot help you,” he said.

She bit back a long sigh. She had no other choice.

“For months someone has been poisoning my livestock. Earlier today they killed nearly half of my goats and swine.”

If Quintus had had anything to do with all of this then her stepson belonged on the stage, in a theater performing a Greek drama because his expression was openly shocked and full of horror.

“For months you say? Someone has been poisoning your livestock? Why did you not tell me?”

She shrugged. “Because I thought it would stop.”

“You thought it would stop?” His expression gave her a glimpse of the inner workings of his mind. He thought it unwise that she’d waited so long to tell him.

His next statement said as much.

“I wish you would have told me sooner.” He seemed so earnest and as she peered up at him she could almost feel the concern and affection he harbored for her. Knowing her stepson as she did, she should have also realized such a feeling was to be fleeting.

“Unfortunately you have waited too late to come to me. The tax is due in a week and with my own debts due, and the last harvest so poor, I am afraid I cannot extend myself on such short notice.”

She’d expected as much from him, so she pinched her lips to stop the snappish retort that threatened to come out. She pulled her hands from his and stood. “It would seem then that my visit is at an end—”

“Possibly.” She did not mistake the deadly purpose in his gaze. “Or if maybe you would be willing to discuss the elevation of my position here as I have tried to discuss with you many times before, I could perhaps be
persuaded
to search other accounts for another source of funds.”

By elevating his position, Quintus meant to say,
she
would relinquish any claim she had as regent, because she was the only person who stood in his way of ruling the province with absolute authority. But Anan could never, she
would
never do such a thing. Siga was her home, and no matter the hard times that had been set upon her, she would never abandon her homeland to Quintus’ absolute rule.

Her hands fisted at her sides, angry that he would even suggest such a thing at a time like this, and the growl of fury that ripped through the room could have been hers, but when Quintus stole a quick, wary look over the top of her head, she suspected it was one of the centurions behind her. The deep, feral sound made her think it was Cassius, for certain.

“I already knew my suggestion would be met with resistance from you, but now it would seem your guards are in agreement as well. How interesting.” Quintus’ eyes hardened as his attention remained riveted on the soldiers at her back.

In her mind, Anan regarded Quintus as a feeble, sniveling coward, but in truth he was none of those things. His father had been a soldier and he’d been reared with discipline, the ferocity of a true Roman soldier.

Anan liked to make him out to be weak and foolish, but Quintus was neither.

She simply hated him because of who he was and because he’d won. He’d vowed to rule over a domain that was rightfully hers and now he did.

He regarded Cassius and Titus from over her shoulder before settling his contemptuous gaze on her once again. “It all makes sense now, why they are so protective of you.” She tensed at the smug gleam in his knowing eyes. “You would let common soldiers touch you? How beneath you, stepmother.”

The derision hung heavy in Quintus’ voice and she recognized the dark look in his eyes. She’d hurled insults at his mother for so easily lying with the enemy to advance her position, while Anan herself had resisted to the very end to even agree to
wed
Maximinius. Her disdain for Romans was well known, but now it would seem she welcomed the touch of not one but two of them. And Quintus’ loathing gaze called her the hypocrite that she was.

Anan did not answer to Quintus and she refused to entertain such a discussion with him, so she tried to sidestep him, but he grasped her arm before she could pass. Titus and Cassius immediately closed in, but they would only intervene if he sought to harm her.

That was not Quintus’ intent, at least, not physically. Quintus sought to injure her with words.

“Have you fucked them?”

She jerked against him, her glare hard. “That is none of your business.”

He lifted his nose and sniffed the air. “You’ve fucked them.” He flung her arm away. “You smell of sweat and dirty sex.”

Before she could stop herself, she struck him with her open palm, the sharp crack ripping through the air.

She stared at him, horrified. Since Quintus had matured into manhood, their exchanges were always tinged with bitterness and anger. Anan closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. How she wished their encounters did not always degenerate to such a low place.

“I am sorry,” she said quietly.

His sea green eyes were now as hard and dark as a jade stone.

“I am not my father. How long will you punish me for his sins?”

“I cannot help it. Every time I look at you, I see him.”

“I am not my father,” he repeated, his voice quieter though no less emphatic.

“And yet you look just like him,” Anan snapped, unable to stem the bitterness that filled her suddenly.

She turned to leave. It was not fair to Quintus that she blamed him for the sins he’d committed and the sins he hadn’t but she could not help it. His father had been an unending source of emotional pain. Quintus was the living, breathing embodiment of that pain. She knew he was not the same as Maximinius. Truthfully, he was a better man than his father. Truthfully, when she gazed upon him, she wished she could see him for the man he was, but truthfully, she could not. She could not help what she felt, the bitterness, the resentment. She was only human.

She sighed. “I only came because I thought you would help me,” Anan said finally. “But now I see that was a mistake.”

She’d given him one last chance to extend to her the offer of aid, but he didn’t. Instead he remained rooted to his spot, his eyes narrowed, his expression cold.

Anan would not beg for what was rightfully hers, she decided, as she drew up her skirts and swept out of Quintus’ chambers, her chin high.

Chapter Five

After leaving Quintus’ home, the journey back to her villa was fraught with far more tension and was plagued by a heavier silence than its predecessor.

She’d just entered the outskirts of her estate when the weight of their questions, their furtive stares became too heavy to bear. Without Quintus’ help, she stood to lose everything. She could weather many of the financial storms that came from running an estate, but this was different. At first there had been tiny fires, missing livestock, before they were poisoned altogether. From the spies still loyal to her within her stepson’s house, she knew Quintus’ own holdings had been subject to the same happenings. That was truly why the Roman soldiers were here. Not knowing of her own troubles, Quintus believed she was behind everything and had insisted on having Roman soldiers sent to guard her. Of course, she hadn’t welcomed the presence of Cassius and Titus and their men, especially given the
real
reason they were there, but now she was almost grateful. She seemed to face one calamity after another. And if this continued…

She did not cry. She refused to and so she simply brought her horse to a halt and sat there atop her mount, blinking at the moisture that burned the backs of her eyes.

Both men brought their horses to a halt on either side of her and then dismounted.

Silence still hovered between them as she let Titus help her down, even as she refused to look at him, either of them.

With her arms folded across her chest, she turned her back to both men.

“For some reason, Quintus seeks some type of acceptance from you, some type of acknowledgement from you that he is different from his father. He wants your forgiveness and desires a closeness with you, but I fear he has gone about it the wrong way,” Cassius said finally, quietly.

She stiffened. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that had been the last. “Acceptance, forgiveness, are not so easily won when you have not earned them. Besides, it is his father I blame, not him. There is nothing for me to forgive of Quintus, but I doubt we shall ever be close. I simply do not have it in me to desire such a relationship with him, because every time I see him I reminded he is the son who should have been mine, and yet he is not.”

“I understand such feelings, but Quintus is young still and does not. He knows only that you reject him because of who he is and that rejection has hurt him, it has made him bitter.”

She regarded Cassius as she spoke. “It has, and sometimes I do wonder if I am undue in my own anger and bitterness toward him,” she began quietly. “I wonder if I lash out at him because I could not hurt his father. I wonder if out of some perversion I punish him for the pain Maximinius caused me. And that now that I need him he cannot fathom helping me given how badly I have treated him.”

“Have you really treated him that badly?” Cassius asked.

She thought hard on his question. “My actions were never cruel. Yet I was distant, cold even. Of course, he is not my relation, nor was he raised in his father’s home, but his mother’s. I knew of him, but I barely saw him. So for all his time, I ignored him mostly, because I simply wanted to pretend as if he did not exist. But now that he is regent, I
cannot
ignore him, and he seems to now relish the power he has over me.”

“That is because he is a spurned man, one who is clinging to a grudge,” Cassius said. “And a spurned man is a dangerous foe, Anan.”

“Do you think it is him who is behind these strange things happening on my land? Quintus has never been given to violence. I would not expect such a thing from him.”

He shrugged. “I would not put it past him. He stands everything to gain if you lose your holdings.”

Anan sighed at that. What Cassius said was true—without her wealth, she would have no influence within the province. Quintus’ power would be virtually unrivaled and unchecked. Anan worried then, without someone to balance Quintus’ power, what would that mean for her people, her homeland?

Titus must have glimpsed her inner turmoil from the expression on her face because he came to stand before her, his hand gentle as it cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his concerned gaze.

“All will be well,” Titus said, his thumb absently stroking her chin. “Cassius and I will see to it.”

She wanted to believe him, the strength of his words, but never had she depended on others, least of all those whom she considered her enemy. And when her gaze flickered over to Cassius and she caught sight of his frown, she became certain that putting her faith in these two centurions would be foolish. Titus may have offered her his support, but it was obvious Cassius was there not out of choice but out of duty, and he was not as eager as his comrade to extend himself.

Anan started to pull away, but Titus held firm, forcing the full weight of her gaze to his face, where she glimpsed tiny embers of desire flaring to life.

She shook her head but Titus halted her with his words. “You can depend on us, Anan, if you would but only trust us.”

She glanced between the two men, a knot of uncertainty tightening in her belly. They had crossed some invisible threshold after what had happened in the stables and she knew now that there was no turning back. Even Cassius had spoken of taking her to his bed, and she knew without doubt that if she invited these centurions into her bed, they would not so easily leave.

It had been so long since she’d had a lover, and never had she had an affair. But it was more than that. In Titus’ eyes, he promised to offer her not just the pleasures of the flesh but his strength, his support. How she longed, just for once, to give her burdens to another, to have a lover, a companion, to turn her troubles over to and have him shoulder them with her, but she could not, or at least she dared not. And it was the look in Cassius’ eyes that stayed her.

“I may be able to depend on
you
, Titus,” she said quietly, for his ears only. “Maybe I can even trust you, but not the both of you.”

She’d spoken so quietly, surely only Titus could have heard her, but that was not the case.

“You know nothing of me to make such claims as to whether I am trustworthy, as to whether I am dependable.”

The hard edge to Cassius’ voice was unmistakable, and she looked over at him, assessing him with cool eyes, even as her insides churned wildly.

“You are right. I know nothing of you. I can only glean understanding from what is revealed on your face.”

“And what is it that I reveal on my face?”

She hesitated because Cassius had drawn closer, and he now raked her with eyes that she could only describe as hungry, predatory.

Anan swallowed deeply before speaking. “That you resent me, that you resent being here. That you are frustrated with Titus for offering undue support to my cause, when all you wish is to be done with this place, these duties, and with me.”

“All that in one expression.” His smile was mocking. “How is it that you think I wish to be done with this place and with you, given what happened earlier, what almost happened last night?”

She could not answer that so she remained quiet, which Cassius seized upon.

“That is right, Anan, reflect on your words, because you know nothing of my motivations. Just as you know nothing of my wants, my desires.”

She bristled at Cassius’ smug words that were laced with sharp ice, while Titus stiffened against her, and for a passing moment she wondered if it was always like this for him—having to smooth over the harsh bluntness of Cassius’ words. She imagined it was, and she felt a twinge of compassion for the burden he carried.

For Cassius she spared none of her compassion as she pierced him with a long, hard stare.

“Then tell me, Cassius, of these wants, these desires, since I am so ignorant.”

“I want you,” he said quietly, simply, but it was the smug challenge, the arrogant gleam in his eyes that stiffened her spine. As handsome as he was, there were not many women whom Cassius wanted, whom he did not get, if any, and he knew it.

“Well who says I want
you
?” she shot back in defiance of his arrogance that he thought her so desperate that she would so easily fall into his bed just because he
wanted
her.

A warning flashed in Titus’ eyes then that begged her not to provoke Cassius, but in her anger, she ignored it. “It would seem that even now I am in Titus’ arms, that I am
always
in Titus’ arms, but never yours. You claim you want me, but your words are feeble to me. And like all else, you are probably only following where Titus leads. Really, Cassius, you only desire me because
Titus
does, and the more I think on it, the more I find such a notion distasteful, and you as well—”

“Anan,” Titus rasped to her in a quiet voice for her ears only, his warning sharp.

The warning came too late.

“I care not about
your
wants, Cassius, because I realize now that I do not want you at all. Just as I imagine my bed would still be warm if you were somehow absent from it.”

Titus let out a low groan and the look he gave her was one of reproach.

Anan did not understand it until before her eyes, Cassius’ entire countenance changed. Carefully he removed his breastplate, the helmet atop his head and set it down on the ground.

His red tunic screamed at her as he approached, as if it echoed the scorching anger churning in his eyes. She clung to Titus, trying to pull deeper into his embrace for safety, for security, but it was futile.

He shook his head, his eyes shadowed as he pulled away.

“Titus,” she called to him in a low whisper.

“I tried to stop you.” His smile was gentle. “When we are with women, he is always the one who commands.”

Her brow peaked. “And who is it that issues the commands when you are with men?”

“We do not share men,” Titus answered.

“Why not?”

Titus hesitated, his gaze questioning Cassius.

Cassius’ feral stare remained riveted upon her. “She already knows, Titus. Don’t you, Anan?”

She gasped in surprise, her heart hammering harder and faster inside her chest.

“The scented oils you wear are quite distinctive, the silhouette your shadow created against the wall even more so. I stared at you the entire time you watched Titus fuck me. I enjoyed watching you, but do you know what I enjoyed even more?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and could only shake her head.

“I enjoyed returning the favor. While Titus bathed, I watched you play with that pretty pink pussy of yours. I watched you finger your slit, then caress your nub until you were wet. Your moans were impossible to ignore, especially when you found release.”

If Pluto could have taken her to the Underworld, she would have welcomed the earth swallowing her up in that moment, she was so embarrassed.

“Did you stroke your cunt to the vision of Titus fucking me?”

She would have sworn she was frozen in shock but when he demanded an answer in a harsh voice, his warm breath blasting across her face, she managed to stammer out, “Y-Yes.”

“Did you imagine Titus and me fucking you as well?”

“Yes.” Her blood seemed to thicken in her veins as he slowly peeled his tunic from his body and cast it aside. Ridges of tanned, hard muscle flowed together, seamlessly molding then melding to create the battle-toned, battle-hardened god who now stood before her, his proud cock jutting out from its nest of dark curls.

“You know what I imagined when I went to the baths later? I imagined fucking you. I imagined taking you in every hole. I imagined Titus doing the same. Sometimes at the same time, other times we would take our turn until we were spent.”

His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her close.

“Did you hear me? I plan to fuck you, Titus plans to fuck you until
we
are spent, until
we
are tired, not you.” His breaths were harsh, ragged. “And do you know what that means?”

He did not seem to desire a response, for which she was grateful because she could not speak even if she wanted to when his hand snaked around her body to cup one globe of her backside in his hand, which he used to pull her flush against his hard body.

“What that means,” he continued, ignoring her gasp, “is that if you are tired and I roll over and my rod is hard, you shall take me inside your body. If you are asleep, you shall wake and spread your legs for me. If your cunt is sore then you shall offer me your ass and if that is sore then you shall pleasure me with your mouth until I am spent, until Titus is spent, until you have pleasured us so thoroughly we no longer have any seed left to give you.”

She trembled at the intensity of his words, the lewdness of his statement. He made her out to be a whore, but the way he looked at her, with passion, with longing—she’d never felt so cherished.

“B-But you do not want me,” she said weakly.

He regarded her as if she were mad. “Does this suggest that I do not want you?” he demanded, grinding his cock into her belly.

“B-But you hate that you do. You never touch me, only Titus.”

“I am touching you now.” His eyes darkened. “And from here on out, when we are in bed Titus will only touch you when I command it.”