Page 27 of House of Serpents and Slaves

The words stung more than I cared to admit. The accusation hung between us like a drawn blade. Nothing but a brute who only cares about himself. If she only knew. The nights I'd spent standing guard outside her door when rumors of raids circulated through the ludus. The countless times I'd redirected Cato's attention when his eyes lingered too long on her during training. The way I still woke in a cold sweat from dreams of failing her like I'd failed her brother.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the wall above her head. Livia gasped, her eyes widening as I pressed my body against hers.

"You think I didn’t care about him?" I hissed, my face inches from hers. "He was my brother too. Maybe not by blood, but ineverything that mattered. You have no idea what I've sacrificed for him, what I continue to sacrifice every day."

Her breath came in short pants, her chest heaving against mine. I could feel the heat of her body, smell the sweat and sand on her skin. My anger warred with a surge of desire so potent it made me dizzy.

"Then enlighten me," Livia whispered, her voice husky. "What great sacrifices has the mighty Septimus made?"

"You want to know what I've sacrificed?" The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "I've sacrificed every moment of peace I've had since that day. Every time you walk into that arena, every time you put yourself in danger, I see him dying all over again. I see you in his place, and it—"

I cut myself off, the confession too raw, too close to truths I couldn't afford to speak. But Livia stepped closer, that familiar challenge in her eyes.

"It what, Septimus?" She tilted her chin up, close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating from her body. "What does it do to you?"

I stared into her eyes, seeing the challenge there, the fire that both infuriated and enticed me. For a moment, I was tempted to tell her everything, but it would only make things worse. I should have released her. I knew I should. But the feel of her body pressed against mine, the fire in her eyes, it was intoxicating. Before I could stop myself, I crushed my mouth to hers in a bruising kiss.

For a moment, Livia froze. Then, with a muffled curse, she kissed me back just as fiercely. Her teeth nipped at my lower lip, drawing blood, and I groaned, pressing her harder against the wall. Her hands immediately tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as though she could pour all her fury into the kiss.

Her body melted against mine, soft where I was hard, and something primal roared to life inside me. Gods, but she fitperfectly in my arms, like she was made to be there. The thought terrified me almost as much as it thrilled me. This was Livia – stubborn, infuriating Livia. Tarus's little sister. The girl I'd sworn to protect.

Except she wasn't a girl anymore. She was all woman, her curves pressing against my chest, her breasts rising with each ragged breath. When she arched into me, grinding her hips against mine, I had to bite back a groan. My hands slid down to her waist, fingers digging into her flesh through the thin fabric of her tunic. It would be so easy to lift her up, to pin her against the wall and settle between her thighs. To claim her the way every fiber of my being was screaming to do.

The taste of her was maddening – sweet and fierce all at once, like honey laced with fire. Each little sound she made sent lightning down my spine, and when she tugged at my hair, pulling me harder against her mouth, I couldn't stop the growl that rumbled in my chest. I wanted to devour her, to mark her, to make her mine in every way possible.

The thought doused me like cold water. She wasn't mine to take. Could never be mine. I was supposed to protect her, not press her against walls and think about all the ways I wanted to make her cry out my name. But gods help me, I wanted her. Wanted her with an intensity that frightened me, that threatened to burn away years of carefully maintained control.

I needed to stop this. Now. Before I did something we'd both regret. Before I gave in to the urge to tear away that tunic and taste every inch of her sun-kissed skin. Before I forgot every promise I'd ever made and took her right here against this wall, consequences be damned.

I forced myself to step back, putting space between us before I lost what little control I had left. The sight of her – lips swollen from my kisses, hair mussed from my hands, cheeks flushedwith desire – nearly undid me all over again. Livia pressed her fingers to her lips, looking as stunned as I felt.

"This was a mistake," I said roughly, running a hand over my face. "It can't happen again."

Something flickered in her eyes – hurt, maybe, before that familiar defiance took its place. "Fine," she snapped, straightening her tunic with sharp movements. "Consider it forgotten."

"Livia—"

"No," she cut me off. "You're right. It was a mistake. Just like everything else about me, according to you."

The words hit like a physical blow, making me reach for her before I could stop myself. "That's not—"

But she was already walking away, her spine straight and proud despite the slight tremor in her hands. I watched her go, every step feeling like another nail in a coffin I'd built myself.

"Tonight," I called after her, my voice hoarser than I'd like. "We're still training."

She paused at the corner, not looking back. "Of course we are," she said coldly. "After all, someone has to keep me from getting myself killed, right?"

Then she was gone, leaving me alone with the ghost of her taste on my lips and the knowledge that I'd just made everything infinitely more complicated.

I slammed my fist into the wall, welcoming the sharp pain that shot through my knuckles. It was better than the ache in my chest, better than the memory of how right she'd felt in my arms. Better than knowing I'd just crossed a line I could never uncross.

"Damn you, Livia," I muttered, letting my head fall back against the wall. "Damn you, and damn me too."

8

For days after my humiliation at Cato's hands, I kept to myself, avoiding the gladiators and burying myself in my work around the barracks and animal pens. The sting of defeat and embarrassment burned hot within me, fueling a simmering anger that I couldn't shake.

I threw myself into my tasks with a fervor that surprised even me. I scrubbed floors until my hands were raw, polished armor until I could see my reflection in the bronze, and organized supplies with a meticulousness that bordered on obsession. Anything to keep my mind occupied, to push away the memoryof Cato's smug face and the pitying looks from the other gladiators.

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