“How could I possibly think a man boring who served the mostinfamousgeneral in all of Rome? Who happened to be his dearest comrade, according to many. But rather than be interrogated more closely by Caesar,” she noted, narrowing her eyes curiously, “he was awarded a high-ranking station in the senate instead.”
No. She wasn’t remotely vapid. She was suspicious of me. Dangerous, indeed.
I held her gaze, the musicians’ music and loud chatter of the party filling the void between us. She watched me, her eyes brightening with her dragon.
“That is rather curious, isn’t it?” I added casually. “But we all knowthat even if he was my dearest friend, that ceased to be the moment he betrayed our emperor.”
“Of course.” She nodded and smiled. “You are a true and loyal citizen to Rome, I am sure of it.”
No. She wasn’t sure at all. That’s why she was poking and prodding.
“Just as I am sure you are,” I said, dipping my head lower, my voice dropping. “No matter that you slide secret notes to slaves on the street.”
Instantly, her heartbeat catapulted, her pupils dilated, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. And fear.
Then she blinked the shock away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.”
“Are you following me?” she asked on a laugh, trying for coy but failing miserably.
Of course, I wasn’t. I was following the woman she gave the missive to.
“Don’t worry, Fausta. I’m not after you, though I’d love to know what your little note said.”
“I believe you’ve had too much to drink.” She glanced away. “You’re imagining things.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I gave her a genuine smile. “Just be more careful, my lady.”
I bowed and headed for the exit. I’d done my rounds and was eager to go, but of course it wasn’t quickly enough.
As I marched through the entry hallway—now empty since Appius had joined his guests—Quintus exited the curtained latrina. Right after him, a slave girl hurried out, lifting the strap of her gown back in place on her shoulder. She saw me and then ducked her head, scurrying back to the kitchen.
“Quintus,” I snapped, suddenly furious, “my relative’s slaves aren’t yours to use however you want.”
He laughed, adjusting his own toga that was askew and combing a hand through his sweat-drenched hair.
“Don’t worry, Trajan. There’s plenty if you want a piece.”
I stepped in front of him before he could pass. “I should report you to Appius. He doesn’t take stealing lightly.”
For that’s what this would be considered in the imperial court. When any dragon uses or rapes a slave that isn’t his own, it’s considered theft. The price is to lose a hand if not more. Not to mention the depravity of the deed itself.
Quintus’s eyes flared gold with his beast. I yearned for him to shift, so that I could do the same and draw blood.
“I didn’t know you were such a schoolboy, Trajan. Or perhaps you just need to stick your dick in a slave of your own.”
“I don’t use slaves to satisfy baser needs. That would be your territory.”
His grin was cruel when he said, “You’re right. Perhaps I need to aim higher. How are those pretty sisters of yours doing? What’s the blond one’s name? Junia?”
I cracked my fist in his face, relishing the sting in my hand as he flew back onto the stone floor. In an instant, I was on top of him, my knee in his chest, my hand on his throat.
“Don’t you ever eventhinkabout my sisters again,” I grated.
Quintus only laughed. His mouth bled at the corner as he bit out, “It’s time for me to settle down, I think. Mount a wife and get her to pop out a few sons.” He licked the blood off his lip, his tongue forked as his dragon deepened his voice. “Sweet little Junia would do well.”
I swung and cracked my knuckles against his jaw again when someone pulled me off him. One of the Macedonian slaves.
