Page 8 of House of Serpents and Slaves (Empire of Vengeance #1)

7

T he sun had barely risen over the arena walls when I heard the clash of wood against wood. I knew without looking who it would be - Livia, always pushing herself, always trying to prove something. Just like her brother had. The thought of Tarus sent the familiar ache through my chest, the weight of my promise heavy even after all these years.

I could still see him clearly in my mind - barely sixteen, blood streaming from the wound in his side, his fingers gripping my tunic as he pulled me close. "Keep her safe," he'd gasped, his eyes already growing dim. "Promise me, Septimus. Promise me you'll protect her." Those were his last words, spoken with his final breath, and they'd haunted me ever since.

Nothing had prepared me for watching my best friend die in my arms, for the responsibility he'd placed on my shoulders with those final words. Livia had been just a child then, all skinned knees and fierce determination, so like her brother it hurt to look at her sometimes.

Now, watching her train in secret every morning, I saw Tarus in every movement, in the way she gritted her teeth against exhaustion, in her stubborn refusal to give up. But where Tarus had been measured, careful, Livia burned too bright, too reckless. She had his courage but none of his caution, and it terrified me.

I'd spent years watching over her from the shadows, intervening when needed without her knowledge. The stable master who'd gotten too handsy had found himself with broken fingers. The gladiator who'd cornered her in the storage room had mysteriously received a beating that left him unable to fight for weeks. Small acts of protection that she'd never know about, would probably hate me for if she did.

But this morning was different. When I saw her march onto the training ground, saw Cato's predatory smile as he sized her up, something inside me snapped. I stormed out of the training arena, my blood still boiling from what I'd witnessed earlier. The image of Livia sprawled on the ground, Cato standing over her with that smug grin, was burned into my mind. I couldn't shake it, no matter how hard I tried. That stupid girl. Clearly she hadn’t listened to a word I’d said the night before. What in Inferi was she thinking, marching onto the training ground like that?

I stalked through the alley towards the barracks, the scorching desert sun beating down on my shoulders. Sweat trickled down my back, but I barely noticed, consumed by my anger. I had to find her, to knock some sense into that thick skull of hers before she got herself killed.

I knew she hadn’t been seriously hurt, just humiliated. She’d been lucky Cato had been in a good mood this morning, or we could have been carrying her off to the healer, and Drusus would have been furious. Cato wasn’t exactly known for holding back even during training. I bore several scars from being paired with him on occasion over the years, and the fear I’d felt when I’d stepped out into the arena this morning and seen her facing up to him still stabbed in my chest.

I swear, that girl would be the death of me. The things I'd done over the years to keep her safe, the fights I'd gotten into on her behalf - all without her knowledge. And did she appreciate it? Of course not. She was too busy trying to throw herself into danger at every turn.

I rounded the corner to the barracks, my fists clenched at my sides. And there she was, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was falling down around her face from its pins, and she glared at me as I approached, her eyes flashing with defiance.

For a moment, I just looked at her, trying to reconcile this woman with the girl I remembered. The one who used to follow Tarus and me around the village, demanding we teach her sword forms with sticks, her dark hair escaping its braids just like now. The one who'd curled up against my side in the slave pens the night after Tarus died, her small body wracked with sobs until she finally fell asleep. I'd stayed awake all night to watch over her, swearing to every god I knew that I'd die before I let anything happen to her.

But that girl was gone. In her place stood this maddening woman who seemed determined to test every ounce of my self-control. The bruise on her cheekbone was already darkening, and my fingers itched to trace it, to soothe the hurt. Instead, I clenched them tighter at my sides. I couldn't afford that kind of softness. Not with her.

She'd grown dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with combat skills. The way she moved now, all lean muscle and deadly grace. The fire in her eyes that made my blood heat despite my best intentions. Even now, disheveled and angry, she was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache. Beautiful, and completely forbidden to me.

I could almost hear Tarus's voice in my head, that familiar teasing tone: "You're thinking too much again, Sep." But Tarus wasn't here. He'd died believing I would protect his sister, not harbor these thoughts about her that kept me awake at night.

"Come to lecture me again, Septimus?" Livia spat, her voice dripping with venom.

I stopped in front of her, close enough that I could see the bruise forming on her cheekbone where Cato had struck her. My anger flared anew.

"What were you thinking?" I hissed, struggling to keep my voice low. "I told you to stay away from the arena. You could have been killed!"

Livia pushed off the wall, stepping closer to me.

“I was thinking I could prove myself. Not that it’s any of your business, Septimus. I can take care of myself."

"Clearly you can't," I growled, gesturing to her face. "Look at you. One session with Cato and you're already battered. All you proved is that you're a foolish girl with delusions of grandeur."

She pushed off the wall, her fists clenching at her sides. "I am not a child, Septimus. I can make my own decisions and I held my own."

I barked out a harsh laugh. "Is that what you call it? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were about to get your head caved in."

Livia's hand shot out, shoving me hard in the chest. I stumbled back a step, surprised by her strength.

"I don't need your protection, Septimus," she snarled. “I don’t even know why you care. Why are you even here?”

My fists clenched at my sides as I looked at her. Her dark eyes burned with shame and fury, and the sand and dirt of the arena covered her bare arms and legs. I was so furious I wanted to drag her inside, put her across my knee and punish her properly. The image crossed my mind of her bent over my legs, her dress pushed up, and her bare ass covered in my handprints. To my horror, my cock began to stiffen at the thought, and I shoved the thought away as quickly as it formed. Livia was practically my little sister. I’d made a vow to Tarus, seconds before he’d died, that I’d protect her with my life. I didn’t think my best friend would be happy if he thought I’d be imagining spanking Livia before slipping my fingers…

“Septimus!”

I blinked, focusing back on the face of the woman who looked like she might breathe fire so evident was her fury.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to focus. "I'm here because someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed, since you clearly lack the sense to do it yourself."

Livia's eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't need your concern. I'm not some helpless child to be coddled."

"No, you're worse," I snapped. "You're a reckless fool who's going to get herself killed."

A faint blush coloured her cheeks, but her glare didn't waver. "I just need more practice. I'll get better."

"You'll get dead," I said. "This isn't a game, Livia. The arena is no place for you."

“You never believed in me,” she spat. “Even when we were kids. Always putting me down. Tarus believed in me, and I’ll do anything to earn that.”

“Are you serious?” I asked. “This ridiculous game of yours is about Tarus? He was a kid, Livia. A kid who died to save your life, and you want to throw that life away in some twisted idea of repayment?”

Livia's eyes flashed with hurt before hardening again. "You don't understand," she hissed. "I owe him everything. I need to be worthy of his sacrifice."

"And getting yourself killed is the way to do that?" I growled, stepping closer. "You think Tarus would want you to throw your life away like this?"

"I'm not throwing my life away!" Livia shouted, her fists clenched at her sides. "I'm trying to make something of myself, to be strong like he was.”

Then suddenly, her voice broke. "I see him every night in my dreams. Dying over and over. And every time, I'm still that useless little girl who couldn't save him."

The vulnerability in her voice made something in my chest crack. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and gently touched the bruise on her cheek. She flinched, but didn't pull away.

"You were never useless," I said softly. "Tarus didn't die because you failed him. He died protecting you because you were the most precious thing in his world." My thumb brushed her cheekbone. You still are, I thought.

For a moment, the masks fell away. I saw the scared girl beneath the fierce warrior, and she saw... what? The brother-figure who'd watched over her? Or something more? Her eyes met mine, dark and questioning.

"Sometimes," she whispered, "I feel like you're the only one who really remembers him. The only one who understands."

"I remember everything," I admitted. "His laugh. His terrible jokes. The way he'd practice sword forms until his hands bled, just like you do."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "He used to say you thought too much."

"He was right." My hand was still on her cheek, and I knew I should pull away. But the warmth of her skin under my fingers made it impossible to move.

The tenderness of the moment hung between us, fragile as spun glass. Then Livia tilted her face into my touch, her eyes darkening, and that simple movement shattered my restraint. The grief and memory of Tarus twisted into something else entirely – something hungry and desperate that had nothing to do with protecting her.

"Septimus," she breathed, and my name on her lips was both a question and a challenge. Always challenging me, this woman who'd grown from that fierce little girl. My thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, and she shivered.

"You're impossible," I murmured, my face inches from hers. "The most stubborn, reckless woman I've ever known."

"And you're an arrogant, overbearing brute," she replied. "You don’t care about anyone except yourself. You don’t understand loyalty or vengeance or true sacrifice.”

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 in everything 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 fit perfectly 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 flushed with 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."