Authors: JenniferKacey
They’d all belonged to him anyway, but he didn’t need to know that.
Her pussy went slick and pins and needles tingled down her spine.
An orgasm barreled toward her, but she couldn’t get there before Ashur jerked sporadically and pulled his dick out.
“Oh, fuck.” He fisted his junk, or so she thought because she never looked away from Creed. She couldn’t. He’d drawn her in and held her captive from the very first hello.
Warm cum splashed against her stomach. One shot over her head.
Bile bubbled in her throat.
An exhibitionist.
She’d always thought she understood it.
And when she was on the giving end of the fucking, she was just fine. But the taking?
She shook her head, and Creed scowled even harder.
He was so unreadable.
She almost wanted to know what he was thinking.
Almost.
Without another word to Ashur, she pushed away and stood. Breaking the eye contact she’d held with Creed thrust her into an icy lake. Alone never felt so scary when faced with the uncertainty of the future. She snagged her boy shorts and stepped back into them. Approaching her corner, Meghan stepped up to her with a wet wash cloth and wiped her off.
“Thanks,” she whispered as Meghan grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Knowing she couldn’t avoid looking at him any longer, she faced Creed with an apology on her tongue.
“Tell me you weren’t a virgin.”
Her apology died a quick death as she tried to reorient herself to his question as he glared at Ashur. “Uh…what?”
“A virgin. Someone who hasn’t had sex. Ever.” Creed’s voice. It made her shiver, especially when it was so harsh. Even when he was being a dick.
She gave him the what-the-fuck face even though he still hadn’t made eye contact with her. “I know what a virgin is, Einstein.”
“Then don’t make me ask you again. I need to know right now you weren’t a virgin.” If looks could kill, then Ashur would be a dead man.
“I’m twenty-two.”
His blue eyes pegged her and held her hostage. Fire and ice. She’d never understood the phrase before. Not until now. Not until Creed.
“Which is still. Not. What. I. Want. To. Hear.”
He crowded in on her, and she wanted to crawl into his arms. Onto his lap. She wanted him to hold her and fuck her and tell her he wasn’t disappointed in her, even though he had more than every right to be. “This is not a discussion I want to have out here.”
Instead of verbally responding to her, he latched onto the back of her neck and marched her out of the stadium.
“What about my things?”
“Meghan will get them and take them to the locker room for you.” It wasn’t actual words that came out of his clenched jaw. Every syllable rolled together, and she chastised herself for not being able to think of much other than how good his hand felt on the back of her neck.
He didn’t let her go until he’d shoved her through the doorway to his office. “Sit down,” he told her as he glared.
Instead, she planted her fists on her hips and glared. “I’m not a virgin. Happy?” She turned to walk away, and he grabbed her arm, wrenching her back around.
“Happy and I haven’t seen each other in years.”
“What do you want, Creed?”
“I want the words.”
She threw off his hand and stared him down again. Arousal still raced through her pelvis and arguing with him wasn’t helping. “I already told you—”
“You said you aren’t a virgin.
Aren’t
. That’s very different than weren’t. As in, you’d had sex for the first time ten minutes ago or…”
“I’d had sex before tonight. Better?” Technically, what she said wasn’t a lie. Technically, fucking herself with a dildo the night they’d met so long ago took her virginity. She considered that a “need to know” kind of item, and he most certainly didn’t need to know. As if she needed to hand him anymore ammunition to use against her.
She’d used a couple actual guys as living dildos before. It had been unimpressive at best, so she’d stuck with the dildos…and thinking about the man who hovered in front of her.
He honest to God bared his teeth at her. Looked like he was going to grab her up and kiss her or fuck her or spank her.
Fuck
.
Not helping.
“You look just as pissed now after I told you what you wanted to hear.”
“I know,” he shouted and clenched his teeth together.
Why he was pissed, she didn’t know. Because she’d had sex before or he thought she was lying or what?
And honestly if she didn’t get out of his office, she was going to do what could possibly be the stupidest thing of her life.
Cry.
Tell him who she really was.
Discuss the fact she’d wanted him for half a decade and hadn’t really had sex with any other man because none of them were him.
Any of those things counted as horrible, so she choked on them all and shook her head.
“No what?”
“No, I’m not discussing anymore of this with you.” She turned to go, certain he would let her leave so she could lick her wounds on her own.
“Clean out your locker and get out.”
She froze at the door. “What?”
“Take your shit and get out. I told you when you started that if you lost you were out.”
“I lost one fight.”
“And you won’t have an opportunity to lose another.”
In his office again.
Him telling her to leave.
But this time she was all grown up.
She never thought it would hurt more the second time.
She was wrong.
He brushed past her, dismissing her with not so much as a passing glance.
She honestly thought he was just going to walk away and that would be it.
Hope bubbled in her system as he paused in the doorway. Certainly he couldn’t be so cruel. Certainly he wouldn’t be so heartless.
With his head tilted to the side, his backlit profile reminded her of an archangel. “I never should have let you fight here.”
And with that blow he walked away.
A breath that felt a hell of a lot like a last breath whooshed out of her, and she fell back a step.
The pain.
Nothing could keep it away.
It hit her from every side as she stared at the empty entry.
No amount of fighting or training or studying could have prepared her for the kind of damage he could do.
He didn’t even remember kicking her out before, but how could he be so cavalier with his dismissal?
“I’m stronger than this,” she said out loud as she tried to take a breath.
But she didn’t feel strong.
She felt defeated.
Weak.
Closing her eyes, tears slipped free and slid down her cheeks.
No clue how long she stood there. No clue how long it took her to leave his office, gather her things and walk out of the stadium.
Long enough that she did all of those things alone, the arena and ludus long since emptied.
But something happened with each foot she put in front of the other. Each step reminded her that she was a fighter. A survivor. And she’d done everything on her own to get there.
Yes, she’d lost.
Yes, the man she loved didn’t want her.
But she didn’t have to go down without a fight. She didn’t have to walk away until she was damn fucking ready to.
And if he could walk away without looking back, then she could sure as hell do the same.
Pulling her eyebrows low, she growled as she walked away from The Cage. Away from the girl she’d been and the past she had no control over.
Her future?
That she could control.
And before she moved on and put all of this and him in a box marked
done
, she had something to prove. She wasn’t going down like this. She’d show him exactly who she was.
She pulled out her phone and dialed a number she’d gotten from Meghan several weeks earlier but never dialed. Raising it to her ear, she knew exactly what she needed to do.
The woman on the other end of the line picked up and said, “I don’t recognize this number so you have three seconds not to get hung up on.”
“I. Am. Spartacus.”
Seven days later, KC entered the arena one last time.
For one last fight.
But she didn’t walk in of her own accord.
Not for this fight.
The last fight of the season was always a production. Not just simple matches. There was always a whole storyline woven into the two fighters who were pitted against each other.
Ten women, who all looked similar in body type and coloring to her, were carted in by big ass dudes from another ludus. The Ludus Magnus, they were called. Another group of fighters who normally went up against the Gladi-Rapers. Hauled in as the slaves they were meant to portray, the women were dumped in the ring. They scrambled to their feet with metal cuffs still on their wrists and ankles.
Their ragged clothing was dirty so no one would know their identities.
They looked scared.
For KC, it was more than a simple affectation.
The lead trainer from Ludus Magnus stepped into the ring with them. “You will call me Doctore.”
The women retreated to the edge of the ring, cowering from the large black man standing before them. He was dressed in full fighting gear, and KC bit her lip. She was ready for this. She fought for this. Needed it to move on.
Willing the nerves to settle, she played her part.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
They all remained silent until one of the women spoke up. “For s-s-some kind of selection?”
“Some kind of fight,” another woman added, and then hurriedly looked around before averting her eyes again.
KC kept her eyes firmly on the mat in front of her.
The element of surprise she needed to work in her favor.
She’d worked with her co-conspirator to make this happen. It was staged. The outcome of the selection was already predetermined so that she could fight. One more time.
“Yes. A selection. But only one of you will fight.”
“Which one of us?”
“Who will decide?”
“What if we don’t want to fight?”
“Why were we brought here?”
“We didn’t ask to be here.”
The other women bombarded him with questions until he yelled, “Silence.” He approached and walked in front of them. “You’ve been chosen for different reasons. Some for your beauty to distract your opponent.” He passed by KC and stopped, raising her chin. “Some for your strength.” He moved on. “Or skill or intellect. But also, because you all look similar to someone we are looking for. Someone rumored to be among you.”
“How will you choose whom to fight?” The tallest of them asked when he stood before her. “And who are you looking for?”
“A fight. To the death.” The crowd rumbled in the seats all around The Cage.
“W-w-who would we fight?”
He snorted. “Each other, of course. Unless someone volunteers.”
“Volunteers? For what?”
“A battle against the fiercest Gladi-Raper. He is scheduled to fight someone of our ludus tonight.”
“Why would someone volunteer for that?”
“Redemption. Fate.”
“But why one of us? Why would you want one of us to fight him?”
“Rumors around the ludus say we have a Thracian in our midst. A homeless Thracian.”
“A Thracian?”
He nodded. “Removed from another house. Cast aside. Wanting to fight one last time.”
One of the others laughed. A high-pitched, shrill laugh. “And you think one of us is who? Spartacus?” At the name, the murmurs in the crowd rose another notch. “I wouldn’t say a word. Bet you don’t even have the right woman here.” She looked up and down the line with a shrug.
“It is why you ladies were all brought in. You all resemble the description we were given of the woman called Spartacus. And don’t worry. We’ll find the right one among you.” The knowing glint of his eye almost made her laugh out loud.
It was Layla who she’d called. They’d talked after KC’s first fight. The girl had never squirted and had no idea of her bondage fetish before that night. She was more than a bit thrown for a loop after KC had taken her orgasm from her.
They’d formed some kind of bond in the dressing room that night. She’d told KC if she ever needed her to repay the favor, then all she needed to do was ask.
KC never thought she’d need to make that phone call.
But she’d needed her help.
And Layla just happened to be the owner of Ludus Magnus. Plus a hopeless romantic, apparently. Fate.
Giving KC the keys to the biggest fight of the season didn’t happen without an explanation. So KC’d told her of her past. The first person ever that she’d told of her past, and why it drove her so hard. Of how she’d actually found The Cage so many years ago. Sneaking in, meeting Creed. Being kicked out.
She’d told her everything.
Well she hadn’t actually said the words. That she loved him. But the other woman had taken her hand and squeezed it. Kissed her mouth. And with a nod of her head, they’d set to work to plan this night. This fight.
A fight of redemption.
Of love.
Even if it was only one-sided.
KC didn’t want to leave as a failure. She wanted one last fight to prove she could do anything. Blinking, she focused on the man called Doctore, again. He was supposed to announce the fighter she was to face. Crixus. And then she would volunteer.
“Who are we supposed to fight? If one of us volunteers so we don’t all die, then who are we supposed to face?”
“He is called—The Shadow of Death.”
KC crumpled to the mat, landing on her knees. “The Shadow…” This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to fight Jackal who fought under the name of Crixus. That’s who she was supposed to face.
Feet clad in sandals appeared in front of her. Doctore’s voice crept inside her. “Hello. Spartacus.”
The crowd exploded into action. Yelling, getting to their feet to see her better.
She wanted the mat to open up and swallow her.
She’d been prepared to see Creed, again. Thought she could handle it. But being on the mat with him?