Page 84 of City of Secrets and Shadows
Her hands clutched at my shoulders, my back, my hips — anywhere she could reach, as if trying to pull me deeper into her, to erase any space between us. Each touch branded my skin, marking me as hers in ways no arena brand ever could.
“I’m close,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Marcus, I’m—”
I captured her mouth again, swallowing her words, tasting the truth of them on her tongue. My pace quickened, driven by the small sounds she made when I hit a spot deep inside her. Her thighs trembled against mine, then her body tensed beneath mine, back arching as pleasure crashed through her. She cried out my name, the sound raw and unrestrained, fingers digginginto my shoulders as if I were her only anchor in a storm. I fought against my own release, breathing hard as I watched her come apart under me.
As her cries abated, I rolled gently to the side, guiding her so she sat astride me. She gazed down at me, eyes blazing with an intensity that stole my breath. Shadows played across her body, highlighting the curves and planes that training had sculpted. The warrior and the woman, perfectly balanced.
For a moment, she was still, adjusting to this new position, her hands splayed across my chest. In the dim firelight, she looked like something from another world — a goddess of war descended to claim her tribute.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, adjusting to the new position, her body still joined with mine.
“Letting you take control,” I said, hands sliding up her thighs to rest on her hips. “You’ve had enough taken from you today.”
Something shifted in her expression — vulnerability giving way to determination, to power. She placed her palms flat against my chest and began to move, slowly at first, testing the sensation. I watched, transfixed, as she found her rhythm, her head falling back to expose the elegant column of her throat.
“Gods, Marcus,” she breathed, rolling her hips in a way that sent sparks shooting through my blood. “You feel…”
Words failed her as she increased her pace, chasing her pleasure with the same focus she brought to combat. My hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements but letting her set the pace. The sight of her above me — strong, fierce, taking what she wanted — was almost more than I could bear.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, voice rough with need. “Take what you need, Livia.”
Her eyes opened, locking with mine as she moved. The intensity in that gaze stripped away pretence, leaving only raw truth between us. She leaned down, her hair falling around uslike a curtain, creating a world where only we existed. Her lips brushed mine, the kiss deep and searching as she continued to move above me. My hands roamed her back, tracing the constellation of scars that told the story of her survival.
“Touch me,” she whispered against my mouth.
I slid one hand between us, finding the place where she needed me most. Her breath hitched as my fingers circled her clit gently. Her hips rolled against mine, drawing a groan from deep in my chest.
I watched her face as she found her pleasure again, this time on her own terms, commanding her body and mine with equal authority. When she shattered, it was with my name on her lips and her fingers interlaced with mine, holding on as if I were her only anchor in a storm.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. My release tore through me with an intensity that bordered on pain, every muscle tensing as I poured myself into her. Her name escaped me in a ragged groan as she collapsed against my chest, our bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in tandem.
For long moments, we lay entangled, neither speaking nor moving. My fingers traced idle patterns along her spine while her breath warmed my neck. Eventually, she shifted, rolling to lie beside me on the narrow bed. I turned to face her, studying her features in the fading firelight. The tears were gone, and she smiled shyly at me.
“I should go,” she murmured, though she made no move to leave.
“Stay,” I said, the word somewhere between a request and a plea. “Just for tonight.”
She hesitated, conflict evident in her expression. “If anyone at the academy discovers I spent the night…”
“I’ll get you back before they know you’re gone.”
Her eyes searched mine, weighing duty against desire. I held my breath, afraid to push further yet unable to bear the thought of watching her walk away again. The silence stretched between us, filled with unspoken fears and longing.
Finally, she nodded, her hand finding mine atop the threadbare blanket. “Just tonight,” she whispered, as if setting a boundary for herself as much as for me.
Relief washed through me, sweeter than any victory I’d ever tasted in the arena. I pulled the blanket up to cover her shoulders, protecting her from the chill that crept into the room as the fire died down.
“Sleep,” I said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “You’re safe here.”
The words hung in the air between us — a promise I intended to keep at any cost. She shifted closer, her body fitting against mine as if we’d spent a thousand nights this way rather than our first. Her eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally claiming her.
I watched her breathing slow and deepen, marvelling at the trust implicit in her surrender to sleep. In the ludus, we’d all slept with one eye open, muscles tensed for fight or flight even in supposed rest. To see her truly sleep, her face relaxed and vulnerable, stirred something fierce and protective in my chest.
She had come to me. Out of all the places she could have sought refuge, all the people who might have offered comfort, she had chosen my door, my arms. The realization humbled me. Whatever game of pretend she played at the academy, whatever role she'd been forced to adopt, the real Livia — the woman I’d watched fight and survive and endure — had needed me tonight.
The knowledge was both a gift and a burden. While she slept beside me, peaceful in a way I’d never seen her, my mind turned to darker thoughts. The nobleman who had dared touch her against her will still breathed, still walked the academyhalls with impunity. The friends who should have protected her remained ignorant of her ordeal.
I eased myself from the bed with practiced stealth, careful not to disturb her rest. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, curling into the warmth I’d left behind. I moved silently around the room, dressing in the darkness, selecting my sturdiest boots and warmest cloak. From beneath a loose floorboard, I retrieved a short sword — nothing fancy, but well-balanced and sharp. I belted it beneath my cloak where it wouldn't be immediately visible.
