“It’s an ancient Roman punishment,” I choke out. Gabriel’s fingers circle my wrist. “It’s usually reserved for Christians, deserters, and convicts who betrayed the Emperor. Translated, it means ‘the condemnation of the beasts.’”
“You mean—” Gabriel’s words cut off as the roar explodes into a great and terrible quake that tears through the roundhouse. The trapdoor’s hinges fly off and the wooden door is flung away. The whole crowd gasps as a golden shape leaps from the depths and stalks across the arena.
A lion.
A motherfuckinglion.
The beast circles the ring, his glorious mane trailing behind him, his lips pulled back into a vicious snarl.
“Please, tribune.” The man is screaming now. “I promise I’ll—”
The man’s words dissolve into screams as the lion pounces. The crowd roars their approval as the lion tears off the man’s arm, shaking its head and splattering blood across the tables toward the front. A few droplets sprinkle my face, my bare arms.
I stare down at the red dots. I breathe in the metallic tang of the air.
The monster in me awakens. She stirs and shakes off her slumber. She paws the dirt, ready for her next feed, her blood warmed with the sacrifices made in her honor.
I’m Claudia August, and I was baptized in bloodshed.
To the bloodshed I return.
I’m not the only one who revels in this anointing. Blood splatters across Antony’s suit as he stares down at the carnage he’s wrought.
I have the answer I came here to seek. The traitor called Antonytribune– the second in command.
The man who will take over the August family if Brutus is killed.
The traitor’s screams cut off as the lion drags his carcass to the center of the ring to feast. The crowd roars, drunk on blood and power, taking the lion’s hunger into themselves to become beasts. They claw at each other, hands reaching beneath clothing, zippers rustling and buttons popping as they fight to sate their lust in every imaginable way.
Heat pools in my belly as I drink in the blood, the chaos, the carnage. I look across to Gabriel and I see he’s affected too. He jiggles his labret piercing with his tongue, and his eyes are heavy with need. The scent of blood in the air sets off something primal in each of us. I can’t wait to get him home so I can fuck him every imaginable way, fucking him like the lioness sinking her claws into her lover.
My cousin raises his arms out wide, his smile giddy as he drinks in the debauchery. The lion tears the traitor’s legs off, spraying more blood across Antony’s face. He loves it, and so does everyone here. No one is mourning Brutus’ absence – they already have a new leader in mind.
On the VIP balcony, Nero snaps his fingers for another bottle of Champagne. He’s been lording it over the place all night, with Eli’s mother at his side. The smile on his lips turns my blood to ice. Suddenly, I’m not horny any longer.
Every word Antony told me is a lie.
And somehow, it’s all part of Nero’s plan.
Eli is in danger. I know he is.
“We’re done here.” I stand up. Gabriel tears his eyes away from the arena. He slides my coat over my shoulders, and we walk down toward the edge of the arena, where the Barbarian emerges from the stalls. He wears a silk robe embroidered with the August insignia – the sword and the laurel – and his terrifying mask remains firmly in place. His arm is bandaged where the whip dug into his skin, but the dressing is already soaked with blood.
Women flock from the audience to surround him, chattering and simpering as they reach out to touch him. One leans down and runs her tongue across his collarbone, licking Snakebite’s blood from his skin.
I see red.
He’smine.
Mymonster.
I launch myself forward, forgetting the danger of our situation in my desire to see that woman’s blood splattered across Noah’s chest. My fingers fly to the knife I’ve hidden in my sleeve, but Noah’s faster. He grabs the woman by the scruff of her coat and flings her away. She crashes into a table, sending glasses and plates of food flying everywhere.
Noah storms toward me as fresh blood stains his bandages. He grabs me roughly and attacks my lips with his. The kiss is fierce – a claiming kiss. He is declaring to everyone present that the Barbarian is spoken for. I wrap my arms around him, grabbing hold of his horns and dragging him closer, making it clear that I have a claim of my own. I taste his opponent’s blood on his lips. It’s sick and twisted and hot as fuck.
As we draw back, Noah’s breath kisses me. “We should leave.”
“Agreed. I want to take you home and fuck you senseless.” I lick a speck of blood from my lip. I’m molten hot again, desperate for release. My boys can do that to me, especially when they’re bathed in the blood and sweat of a fight. “And you can leave the mask on.”
