Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
What will I do? What can I do?
The unwanted dream creeps back into my mind… I try to push it away, but it’s a persistent bugger.
Sail to a little island off the coast of Crete where the water is so blue it will bring a tear to your eye and the fish and game are so plentiful that your stomach will never growl again. Raise a loving family with a wife so pretty she’ll make my chest ache. Buy a house on some rolling hills where my sons and I can plant a harvest.
I shake my head and shove those dreams away. What sons? What family? Men like me are made to kill, not made to love.
It’s just a dream after all.
I already know what I’ll do when I win my hundredth match.
I’ll do what I’ve always done.
I’ll kill.
Here in the arena.
I’ll stay a gladiator but at least I’ll be free.
And I’ll let those dreams of a better life with a woman I love die alongside my opponents.
And then, I’ll truly be free.
“Kaeso Vinicius,” my master hollers as he struts into my cell. I stay with the other gladiators in the depths of the Colosseum, but I’m the only one to have my own room and a bed. Being a winner pays, even if being a slave doesn’t.
Septimus has a look of pure joy on his face as he tosses me a basket full of food. “You’ve made me one of the richest men in all of Rome.”
I start munching on an apple, biting half of it with one chomp as I look through the rest of the fresh food.
“Killing always makes you hungry,” he says with a grin as I shove the other half of the apple into my mouth. “Does it make you horny too?”
“If you pull out your cock, I’m chopping it off.”
He throws back his head and roars out a laugh. If any other slave in the empire threatened to chop off their master’s cock, they would be bleeding all over the dirt, but I make Septimus too much money for that.
“You’ve turned down every girl I’ve offered you,” he says with a grin. “So, I’m offering you six.”
I roll my eyes as he ducks his head back into the hall and starts barking out orders. “Bring the girls here!”
I’m shaking my head and cursing under my breath as he shoves one girl after another into my cell. They’re all standing there, cowering before me and trying not to look at the monster in front of them.
I know what I must look like to them. I’m the opposite of the pretty-faced boys they chased around their villages before the slavers came and slaughtered their families and stole them away.
I’m rough-looking. Scarred all over my coarse skin. More horrid than handsome.
I wrap my big powerful hands around a carrot and snap it in two as I avoid the girls’ terrified eyes. I hate seeing the way they look at me. Like I’m some wild nasty beast that’s going to devour them whole.
Why does Septimus do this to me? I know what each one is thinking. They’re all praying to their gods to spare them.
“I’ll leave you to enjoy your spoils of victory,” Septimus says as he heads for the door.
One of the girls lets out a pathetic whimper and I snap my eyes onto her. She has a pretty face, but is fighting back tears. Two more are crying, a third just about to.
They look as terrified as the men who face me in the arena. I know that look well. Fear. Terror. Panic. I was cursed by the gods with this face. With this grotesque body. Everyone I see is afraid of me. Everyone I look at drops their eyes, praying to their gods that I’ll spare them.
I hate it.
Why does Septimus torture me like this? I’ll kill whoever he puts in front of me and in exchange, all I ask for is to be left alone. He can’t even give me that.
“Take them with you,” I grunt as I drop my eyes back to the food. I crack open some walnuts with my bare hands and shove them into my mouth as the girls take a breath of relief.
“They’re all virgins,” he says with a grin. “Purchased specifically for you to deflower.”
My eyes bore into him. He takes an involuntary step back and strokes the sword at his side. He knows that his sword will do nothing if I choose to strike, just like the men who cage tigers know who’s really in charge.
Septimus was born the son of a rich merchant here in Rome. He dresses flashy in golden robes and precious gems that come from the far reaches of the world. His riches are paid from the misery of others. A slaver by trade, he is the only person who has ever treated me nicely, which is saying a lot since he keeps me locked up in this cage.