Tangled Web Read online

  The servant merely shrugged. “The emperor has more resources at his hands than you can imagine.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Perhaps he merely wanted to see you in it.”

  Or out of it. She wondered how long she’d stay in this dress once his lips touched hers. One more night of this charade, she promised herself. By tomorrow, the poison will make him too ill to summon me to his chambers.

  Other than the sound of their footsteps, silence filled the long corridor. Azurha’s chest tightened, making it harder to breathe. After all the people she’d killed over the last decade, why was this assassination so nerve-wracking? Cassius’ voice filtered into her mind. Because you got too close to your target.

  The flash on the bronze plate jerked her from her thoughts, and iron-fisted determination seized control of her. She wouldn’t fail tonight. By the end of the week, she’d be a rich woman looking for a small estate somewhere far from here.

  “I took the liberty of having dinner set up for two,” Varro said as he led her inside. “If the emperor doesn’t find this to his liking, I’ll send something else. I found it rather odd that he requested honey be served with every meal. Emperor Sergius has never had much of sweet tooth.”

  She bit her bottom lip to conceal her smile. If he only knew how the honey had been used two nights ago. A fist of remorse clenched her gut when she realized she wouldn’t feel his tongue lapping it off her breasts again.

  “I see we’re a bit early,” he continued as he surveyed the empty chambers. “You’re to wait here until he returns. Good evening, Lady Azurha.” He bowed his head slightly and closed the doors behind him. A loud click echoed through the room.

  She unwound the palla from her head and tossed it on the cushions. Time to stop playing games. She removed the vial from between her breasts and poured the powder into one of the goblets on the table. Then she added a small amount of wine, swirling the liquid to dissolve the poison, before filling it to the brim. Even if Titus was paranoid enough to hire a food taster, he wouldn’t detect it until tomorrow. All she needed to do now was make sure he had a sip of wine before beginning with the evening’s pleasantries.

  Disgust filled her when she noticed her trembling hands. She balled them up into fists and forced herself to sit on the cushions while she waited for her prey.

  …

  “I think you handled those sycophants rather well, Titus,” Marcus said with a touch of laughter in his voice. “The only other thing I’d suggest is hanging the threat of execution over their heads if they follow you outside the throne room.”

  Titus chuckled. After being chased back his private quarters last night, he made it very clear that anyone who followed him past the door tonight would suffer the consequences. Anyone except Marcus, that was. They’d been friends practically since the cradle, and most of the court knew that. In fact, some of the nobles had begun whispering their thoughts in Marcus’ ear as soon as Titus’s father became ill, hoping to gain favor with the heir to the throne through him.

  “I’m just grateful for a few minutes of solitude.”

  His friend nodded. “Any plans for the evening?”

  Heat rose into his cheeks. Despite his determination to remain focused on the needs of the empire, his thoughts kept returning to the Alpirion temptress waiting for him in his chambers. Was it wrong of him to want to see her dressed like the women who adorned the exquisitely erotic paintings he’d seen hung in art galleries? “I’ll be dining with Azurha.”

  “Azurha?” Marcus cocked one eyebrow. “Is that her name?”

  “Yes.” He hoped his clipped reply would end the conversation, but his friend had other ideas.

  “Alpirion?”

  “Yes.”

  “You never struck me as the type who found the darker skinned women attractive.”

  Titus stopped and spun around on his heel. “Just because I’m forced to marry a Deizian woman doesn’t mean my tastes are exclusive to them. Azurha has these eyes that make me…” His voice drifted off as he remembered the hunger in those teal eyes as he made her come last night. His cock stiffened. If this conversation continued much further, the evidence for his desire would be on display for anyone to see.

  “So, in other words, she’s not your normal Alpirion slave girl?”

  “Far from it.” But she was also a gift from Pontus and, therefore, needed to be handled with caution. If he could gain her trust, perhaps he could learn the truth behind why his cousin sent her here.

  He pressed his hand against the plate outside his door, and his fingers tingled. Simple magic like this, he could handle. Reinforcing the barriers was an entirely different matter. He dreaded repeating that over and over again every day of his reign. Gods forbid if he needed to call upon stronger magic like his grandfather did when he finally conquered the Alpirions.

  His thoughts turned to the one Alpirion waiting for him in his chambers. What kind of magic would he have to summon to gain her trust, to get her to surrender herself to him without letting the terrors of her past dictate her actions?

  The door opened, and Azurha rose from the cushions in the middle of the room. His breath caught. Yes, she was every bit as alluring as he imagined she would be in that dress. The sheer linen hugged her breasts, doing little to conceal her dark areolas before flaring out over her sensuous hips. The only thing that kept her from matching the paintings was the way her hair had been pinned up in an Elymanian style instead of cascading down her back.

  A smile touched her full lips when she met his gaze. If she only felt half the desire he did, he may forget his hesitations and fully enjoy his gift as she was intended to be enjoyed.

  A low whistle sounded behind him, and Azurha flinched. She snatched her palla and stared at Marcus, her face hardening.

  “No need to conceal your face, Azurha,” Titus said as he approached her. “Marcus is my closest friend.”

  Something flashed in her eyes as they flickered between the two men. Fear? Anger? Her fingers bunched up the palla and pulled it to her chest. The rigid set of her shoulders told him she didn’t welcome the company. “Will he be joining us tonight, Your Imperial Majesty?” she asked in a flat voice.

  Titus balked at her question. If he was hoping to gain her trust, he’d run into another obstacle to overcome.

  “No, I was just leaving,” Marcus answered for him. A wicked grin stretched his lips, and Titus knew he’d hear more about this later. “We’ll figure out what to do with the barrier in the morning. In the meantime, enjoy your evening.”

  …

  When Azurha saw the man enter the room behind Titus, her heart jumped into her throat. The idea of being forced to pleasure his friend revived the feelings of pain and humiliation she suffered at the hands of her master. Would they tie her to columns while they tortured her? Tie her to the bed? She had grabbed her palla, prepared to snap their necks before allowing that.

  Her pulse began to slow when the door closed behind the other man, leaving her and Titus alone. Her knees wobbled, and she sank into the cushions before she collapsed. Seven years had passed since the morning she gained her freedom, but the days leading up to it still haunted her.

  “Is something wrong, Azurha?”

  The rich timbre of his voice pulled her back to reality. All she needed to do was give him the goblet and make sure he drank the poison. When she lifted her eyes, the concern on his face tied her stomach in knots. “I thought you wanted to share me with your friend.”

  He laughed at first, but when she didn’t join him, his expression sobered. “By the gods, you’re serious.”

  She closed her eyes and turned away from him. How naïve was he? Did he not know what his nobles did outside the palace?

  “How can that be possible?”

  Both brows rose at his genuine puzzlement. He’d spent too much time studying his philosophy instead of visiting the brothels, it seemed. “It’s possible for one woman to pleasure up to three men at once, if she’s required to.”

  He grow
led in response. “I would never allow that.”

  “You are very different from some men, then.”

  When he approached her with a look that said he wasn’t finished with this discussion, she backed away. “Were you forced to do things like that?”

  She stared at the gold bracelets that concealed the scars on her wrists. “I was a slave, Titus. We cannot refuse our master’s whims.”

  To his credit, he looked slightly nauseated. He sat next her with his hands in his lap. The warmth of his skin radiated through the linen to her thigh, and the scent of the sandalwood rose from him. Silence stretched between them, far wider than their physical distance.

  His shock both surprised her and tugged at her heart. No, she couldn’t let her emotions get in the way tonight. She reached for the poisoned goblet. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my life as a slave. Would you like some wine?”

  “Not yet,” he replied as he caught her wrist. “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Why would I lie about something like that?”

  Disgust filled his eyes, and her own stung. Yes, that’s right. Think of me as a common whore. Used goods. Sullied to the point where you never want to touch me again. It will make killing you that much easier.

  Instead of shoving her to the floor and ordering her out of his presence, he flipped her hand over and delicately traced the lines on her palm. Then he covered her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “I know you said you were bound to no one,” he said quietly, “but as long as you reside in my palace, I will never share you with another man.”

  When he possessively squeezed her hand, a gasp broke free from her. Her mouth went dry. Could he possibly mean what he said? She swallowed and found her voice. “I am your concubine. No man is supposed to look at me without your permission.”

  “And I guard my treasures jealously.” He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it.

  A jolt of fire shot up her arm. How could he unnerve her so quickly from such a simple gesture? Deep inside, she found the answer. He was the first person who actually seemed to give a damn about her. Not even Cassius had treated her like this. She had been a weapon he could train, not a treasure.

  With his free hand, Titus stroked her cheek. “What you tell me only strengthens my resolve to free the slaves. No person should be forced to do things like that.”

  He released her hand and reached for the goblet. Time seemed to stand still. Her pulse thudded in her ears. Common sense told her to sit back and let him drink the poison, but a new, raw emotion overpowered it. Fear raced down her spine, stiffening it vertebrae by vertebrae. If she didn’t kill him, she was as good as dead.

  If she did, she’d forever wonder if she’d made a mistake.

  As the goblet neared his lips, she lurched forward. Wine splattered over both of them, staining the white linen of their clothes a deep red, and the goblet landed on the tile floor with a clang. A shudder of relief ripped through her as the last of the poisoned wine dripped into the cracks. She’d stopped him.

  Then she faced him, and her breath froze. His mouth hung open. Wine dripped from his jaw and his toga. If he had been her master, she would have received at least a slap to the face for her actions. She closed her eyes and braced for her punishment.

  His warm, calloused hand covered hers. “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to be so clumsy.”

  “Open your eyes.” Lines creased his forehead when she did. “Why are you so terrified?”

  Because I almost poisoned you. She licked her lips, unsure what to say. Her chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.

  His frown returned, and his fingers tightened around her hands. Did he know what she’d almost done? “Answer me.”

  “I—” Her voice broke. She couldn’t tell him the truth—she’d be executed immediately. A rivulet of wine trickled between her breasts. “I’ve ruined your clothes and my new dress,” she finally managed to blurt out.

  “And that frightens you?” His mood lightened, and some of the blood returned to her cheeks.

  “Yes. Whatever punishment you have for me—”

  “Punishment?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Do you really think me so uncivilized that I would strike you for a simple accident?” His hand curled around her neck and pulled her closer to him so his lips grazed her forehead. “They are clothes. They can be washed or replaced.”

  The knots in her shoulders began to unwork themselves. He didn’t suspect her.

  He tucked a stray curl behind her ear while his grin grew more devious. “Of course, this gives us the perfect opportunity to lick the wine from each other’s skin.”

  He lowered his head to her breasts, but she pushed him away. Even a small amount of the poison could make him ill. “Wine tastes sweet on the lips, but bitter off the skin.” She jumped to her feet and glanced around the chambers. By the gods, she must sound like a mad woman. “You have your own bath here, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he drawled as he stood.

  The last of her unease slipped from her muscles. She had a new plan, one that would involve both of them getting naked and removing the last traces of poison from their bodies. Maybe he’d forget about her odd behavior tonight and stop asking so many questions about her past.

  Her nipples peaked under the wet linen as she imagined his mouth on them. She unfastened the lone shoulder strap and let the ruined dress puddle around her ankles, forcing herself to smile. “Perhaps we should clean each other up?”

  9

  Titus stood frozen as he watched Azurha sashay to the tepidarium pool. The only thing on his body that dared moved was his cock, which had no trouble responding to her invitation. The luscious curve of her bare ass beckoned him to follow, and before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled his tunic over his head and was pursuing her.

  Her behavior tonight troubled him. She’d gone from frightened to bitter and back in a matter of seconds, and the only unifying factor to it was her prior treatment as a slave. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t share her with anyone. A possessiveness like he’d never felt before for anything—not even the Imperial throne—seized him when she’d talked about having to pleasure someone else. She was his.

  All logic left his mind as she sank into the water. Her wet skin glistened in the torchlight like polished bronze. She swam out into the middle of the pool and turned around. Her breasts bobbed in the water like two tempting globes, and his fingers ached to caress them. “Are you coming in?”

  The way his cock was leading him, “coming in” took on an entirely different meaning. He wanted to come, to come inside that tight sheath he had no doubt would fit him better than his ceremonial armor. The urge to throw restraint to the wind nearly consumed him. Only the thoughts of reviving her fear and his mistrust of Pontus held him back. He stepped into the tepidarium and approached her slowly, keeping more than an arm’s length between them.

  “Would you like me to bathe you?” She gave him a sexy grin, but even in the shadows that flickered across her face, he saw it didn’t reach past her eyes.

  His jaw tightened. She was a concubine, a woman who’d been trained to pleasure men, whether she enjoyed it or not. “Azurha, you don’t have to seduce me.”

  The black centers of her eyes expanded so only a thin rim of teal remained. She swam closer to him and tentatively ran her thumb over the head of his erection. “No, I can see that. You’re already aroused.”

  He bit back the moan that formed in his throat. A voice whispered in the back of his mind to handle Pontus’ gift with caution, but with each stroke of her finger, the throbbing desire spread through his body. He reached up and cupped her breasts in his hands. The soft flesh molded easily to his touch, and her pert nipples called to him like ripe berries. He wanted to taste their sweetness.

  She arched her back and pulled him to her chest. A sigh escaped her lips as he took one of the tight buds into his mouth, sw
irling his tongue around it before sucking it deeper. Breasts like hers should come with a warning. One taste, and he was hooked. He rolled the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, not wanting it to feel neglected. The thought of some other man fondling her this way snuck into his mind, and he gently nipped at her flesh. He’d mark her as his before the night was through.

  Her fingers threaded through his hair, and her leg hooked around his. She purred his name in contentment. All very convincing signs that she enjoyed his attention, restrained as it was.

  “What do you want?” he whispered, his voice hoarse with raw lust. He already knew what he wanted, but he wouldn’t force himself on her. He refused to become the monster her former master had been.

  She guided his hand between her legs and pressed his fingers into her inviting sex. Could she truly be aroused by him? As if she sensed his doubts, she nibbled on his earlobe and murmured, “Please, Titus, I need you inside me soon, or I’ll go crazy.”

  The primitive beast inside him broke free at the sound of her plea. He lifted her hips and slid his cock into her, smothering her moan with his lips. Her walls tightened around him while her tongue filled his mouth, fanning the flames of his desire. By the gods, she was even better than he imagined. He should have been content to savor the moment, to relish in the glory of finally being inside her. But it wasn’t enough.

  He pushed her back to the edge of the tepidarium, pinning her between his body and the tiled walls, and began thrusting inside her. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her cries rose an octave higher as he rammed deeper and harder into her, until his balls slapped against her buttocks.

  Over and over again, she whispered his name. A smile formed on his lips, even as he left open mouthed kisses along her neck and jaw. His hips pumped with renewed vigor. She was his. His alone. And he wanted to make sure no man would ever make her cry out in pleasure as she did now.

  His sac drew closer to his cock. He wouldn’t last much longer, but he would savor every second, every stroke she’d allow him.