Given to the Gladiator Read online

  Given to the Gladiator

  Olivia T. Turner

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

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  Copyright© 2020 by Olivia T. Turner.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including emailing, photocopying, printing, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. For permission requests, email [email protected]

  Please respect the author’s hard work and purchase a copy. Thanks!

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, companies, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  www.OliviaTTurner.com

  Edited by Karen Collins Editing

  Cover Design by Olivia T. Turner

  To Marie,

  Who could never resist a man in a loincloth.

  Chapter One

  Elovissa

  “Please, mother,” I beg. “Don’t make me do this.”

  She tightens the corset with a grunt until it’s crushing my ribs.

  “Enough, Elovissa!” she snaps. “I will not hear anymore of this. Manius will be a suitable husband for you. He’s the best we could manage and your father has paid a considerable dowry to wed you off.”

  “But I don’t love him,” I wince as she tightens the top of the corset, trying to bruise me into submission. “He’s mean and he smells atrocious.”

  I want to cry every time I think about tonight. The wedding. Our wedding night after. The things he’ll make me do…

  “Please, mother.” The tears are coming out now, sloppy and desperate. “I don’t wish to marry Manius. He’s much too old and he frightens me.”

  “He’ll keep your belly full and he’ll keep a roof over your head. Honestly, Elovissa, I am surprised we found anyone in the Roman Empire foolish enough to take your hand in marriage. You have no sense of a woman’s place.”

  “My place is not with him.”

  “It is!” she snaps as she ties the last string on the corset, officially bruising my entire torso. Manius will remove it tonight to find nothing but black and blue skin. Maybe that will save me.

  “Your place is wherever your father deems fit, and he has decided that there is no better match for you than Manius. You will obey us on this, Elovissa, or you will be abandoned and sold into slavery. A daughter who refuses to listen is useless to all.”

  “I’m afraid,” I say, trembling as she begins to yank the knots out of my hair.

  “Every woman is afraid on their wedding night.” She yanks the brush down, making me cry out. It feels like my hair is being yanked out by the roots. “You close your eyes and open your legs. He’ll do the rest.”

  I cringe with a shiver as I picture Manius’ long greasy hair falling onto my face, his rough horrid breath beating down on my lips, his bulbous stomach pressing me into the mattress. The tears start coming hard and fast, streaming down my cheeks as my mother pulls my hair even harder. The tears don’t bring out sympathy from her. Only anger.

  “Knock off this pathetic display,” she hisses. “You’re entering womanhood today. Wipe those pitiful tears from your eyes and act like it!”

  I wipe them off with the back of my hand and close my eyes, wishing I was somewhere else. Somewhere safe and exotic with someone who loved me. And someone that I adored back. Someone big and scary enough to protect me from the Manius’s of the world.

  “Manius has the third largest piece of land in all of Verona. You will not go hungry, so stop complaining.”

  It’s not the lack of food I’m worried about. It’s him. I won’t be his first bride.

  I quiver when I think of the stories I’ve heard. The young bride from Virunum. Her pretty face and gorgeous blonde locks. She was living on Manius’ ranch for three months and then she mysteriously disappeared.

  It was over ten years ago, but the rumors are still as fresh as ever. Some say he drove a knife into her chest, some say he left her out for the wolves, others say he cooked her and ate her. I don’t know what happened, but I’m not looking forward to finding out in the sequel.

  My father walks into the room, running his hand nervously through his long beard. He’s always had a softer spot for me than mother did, so I look up at him with desperate eyes, pleading to the protective side that all fathers have inside.

  “Please don’t make me do this, father,” I beg. Mother yanks the brush through my hair extra hard. “I am afraid of this man. He ate his last wife.”

  Father shakes his head as he runs his hand through his gray beard. “Rumors, my dear. He did no such thing.”

  “Then where is she?” I ask, feeling like I’m the only one in this house who can see what is sitting plainly in front of us. “His bride from Virunum? Are you saying she just packed up and walked home?”

  “That was a long time ago,” he says as if that explains anything. “You will be wed tonight and that is final.”

  My mother has a smug smirk on her face as she grabs the ribbons. “Now stop talking, child. And don’t move your head.”

  I think I’m the only bride who’s ever existed who wants to look ugly on her wedding day. I’d love for Manius to take one look at me and shake his head with a resounding ‘no.’

  But mother is quite talented in the beauty department and everyone in town who sees me is ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ as I walk by. Their smiles quickly fade when they look into my eyes and realize what my future holds.

  I can’t marry this man. I won’t.

  “You look wonderful,” my father says as he walks me down the dirt road toward the center of town where the vows will take place. “As beautiful as your mother on our wedding day.”

  Lucky for her, she was marrying a decent, honorable man, and not some serial killer who practiced on his pretty young brides.

  We hang back by the blacksmith’s shop as people rush to the festivities. I ignore their well wishes and stare at the loose chickens who are wandering around the shop, pecking at the ground, oblivious to the life-changing event that’s about to happen.

  “Chin up!” my mother snaps as she comes over to join us. She’s holding her new dress up as she jumps over a puddle in the road. “And knock that sour puss off your face. This is supposed to be a celebration, although I doubt Manius will be celebrating when he finds out that he married a spoiled, unruly child.”

  I bite my lip as she descends on me, yanking and pulling straps—not caring at all that my dress is already cutting into my skin.

  “The groom!” she says in a panic when Marius and his men walk down the road in the distance.

  I clutch my stomach and nearly throw up when I see him in his slimy white toga. My lunch would have come out if it wasn’t being trapped in by my insanely tight corset.

  “He can’t see you before the wedding!” mother yelps as she pushes me against the wooden boards of the blacksmith’s shop.

  The image of him sends me into panic mode. My pulse starts racing. My whole body starts shaking as I suddenly can’t breathe.

  I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

  “My veil!”

  My mother’s jaw clenches. “Oh, for the faith of Juno,” she curses. “Let’s go! Quickly!”

  She
grabs my arm in a piercing grip and pulls me back to our house at the edge of town.

  “The whole town will be waiting,” she mutters as she pulls me into the house. “Ungrateful child. I’ll be happy to be rid of you. Nothing but trouble.”

  “It’s in my room,” I say as I quickly run to the back of our tiny house. “I’ll put it on. I’ll just be a second.”

  With my heart pounding, I lock the door, rush over to the window and unlatch it. I take one last look around my room because I won’t be seeing it again.

  “Bye life,” I whisper before hiking my dress up, climbing out of my window, and running over to where Pegasus is wandering lazily around his paddock. The end of my dress and my new white shoes sink into the mud, but I don’t care. It feels good to ruin it all. To sully the veil of innocence that Marius wants to steal from me. It’s mine alone to give and I do not choose him.

  “Pegasus,” I whisper as I drag the heavy fence open. “Come here, boy!”

  He walks over lazily, glancing down at my hands to see if I have any treats for him.

  “It’s time that you earn your name, old friend,” I whisper into his ear before I hoist myself onto his back. “Fly, Pegasus. Fly.”

  I squeeze my thighs and tell him to run, and he does. Fast. His heavy hooves thunder into the ground under the force of his powerful white legs, taking me away from here. Taking me to freedom.

  “Elovissa!” my mother screams as she hangs out of my bedroom window, looking furious. “Get back here you ungrateful brat!”

  I turn around and stick my tongue out at her as my faithful horse carries me away.

  I’m free for three glorious days.

  On the fourth, however, someone catches up to me.

  It’s not my parents. It’s not Marius.

  It’s someone worse.

  A slaver.

  I don’t even hear him creep up to me while I’m cooking a rabbit over a fire. I don’t even feel the club hitting the back of my head, turning everything black.

  I’m only aware of my capture when I wake up with a splitting headache on top of Pegasus. Something more constricting then my corset is wrapped around my neck—a thick iron collar. A heavy metal chain tries to drag my head down. It’s tied to my wrists that are also locked together with some kind of iron contraption.

  “No,” I whisper when I look all around me and see nothing but pain and agony on the slaves’ faces as they drag their feet, stumbling in the hot sun.

  “Good, you’re awake!” a slaver with dark hair and a jagged scar along his forehead says with a vile grin. He yanks me off my horse and I fall into the dirt with a thud. His sandal comes next, slamming into my ribs as he laughs. “Get up, girl. You belong to us now.”

  I gulp as I look up at the whip in his hand. His thumb is stroking the leather, itching to use it.

  He lets it rip when I don’t get to my feet fast enough. I scream out in pain and terror as the head of the leather tears through my dress and cuts into my back.

  He just grins.

  “Get up. Slave.”

  Chapter Two

  Kaeso

  Three months later…

  “Kaeso! Kaeso!” the crowd chants as I grip my bloody sword and step over the freshly dead body.

  The last remaining man swallows hard as he circles with a panic in his eyes. He knows of my reputation. All of Rome does by now.

  Ninety-eight matches in the arena—the longest running streak in Roman history—and I’m still here. And in a few minutes, he won’t be.

  Little clouds of dust kick up around his sandals as he stumbles back from me, the defeat already plain to see in his eyes. He’s a slave just like me. Probably taken from the southern edges of the Empire going by the darkness of his skin.

  I wonder if his tale is as sad as mine is. The slain family. The childhood abduction. The decades of pain and misery that only a whip can bring.

  It doesn’t matter. He’s nothing to me but a corpse waiting to happen.

  Just like all the other men or beasts who stepped into this arena—into my arena—they’re nothing but a prop in my show.

  Their sad tales stop with me. They end with a slice of my sword, with the tip of my spear, with the crunch of my hands.

  I don’t feel guilty. I’m doing them a favor.

  They should thank me for ending their sad lives, which aren’t even worth living.

  My opponent turns and flees, but there’s nowhere to go.

  The crowd boos.

  I grin as I peel off the leather armor from my chest and let it drop to the sand. The crowd in the packed Colosseum explodes with cheers as the cool wind tickles my hot sweaty skin. Everyone who’s anyone in Rome is here today on this cloudy summer day. The Emperor included.

  Emperor Vespasius is standing in his luxurious box with a golden crown in his messy hair. overlooking the arena, his scantily-clad whores hanging off his arms. He’s a heartless ruler and the people of Rome are growing tired of his irresponsible, selfish ways. They say he’s the most powerful man in the world. I say I could crush his skull if I got close enough. No one is more powerful than me.

  He grins at me as I nod my head. His whores stare on with dead eyes, probably dreaming of their homelands and wondering what could have been.

  I get offered plenty of women like that. My master Septimus throws them to me in droves after every battle. I throw them all back. I’m not interested in defiling any of them.

  “Finish him!” Emperor Vespasius shouts and the arena erupts in agreement. There’s no question he’s talking to me. The other guy doesn’t stand a chance and everyone knows it. He hung back while I single-handily slaughtered the dozen or so men in his company. He’s the only one left.

  I roll my big scarred shoulders as I start walking toward him.

  I’m the largest man in any room I enter, including the floor of the Colosseum. In here, I’ve fought against men from all over the world and not one has reached my chin. I’ve crushed skulls in my hands and had crowds of mesmerized people surrounding me for hours just to watch how much I eat.

  I’m as large as the powerful beasts they call bears and as fast as the fanged monsters dragged from the dark places south of old Carthage called tigers and lions. I know because I’ve faced countless numbers of them—armed and unarmed—and came out victorious every time.

  Ninety-eight matches. They’re all starting to blur into one.

  Septimus has promised manumission if I win one-hundred matches. Freedom is so close.

  Once I kill this quivering man, it will be a little closer.

  He sprints to one of his dead friends and grabs the spear at the corpse’s side. He’s all wild jittery movements as he plants his feet and throws the spear at me with a grunt.

  I almost laugh as I see it coming. He’s as weak and slow as a child.

  The spear whistles as it comes near. I step to the side and pluck it out of the air. The crowd roars. It turns deafening as I spin the spear around in my hand and grip it.

  The man runs.

  I aim the sharp metal head and heave the spear with a grunt. It sails through the air like a free bird and lands with a vicious shlunk through the man’s back. He falls forward, limp and shaking as he slides down the spear and into the sand.

  I glance up at our Emperor clad in golden robes—who is clapping his hands and hollering along with the rest of his people.

  Two more matches and I’m a free man.

  What will I do? What can I do?

  The unwanted dream creeps back into my mind… I try to push it away, but it’s a persistent bugger.

  Sail to a little island off the coast of Crete where the water is so blue it will bring a tear to your eye and the fish and game are so plentiful that your stomach will never growl again. Raise a loving family with a wife so pretty she’ll make my chest ache. Buy a house on some rolling hills where my sons and I can plant a harvest.

  I shake my head and shove those dreams away. What sons? What family? Men like me are made to
kill, not made to love.

  It’s just a dream after all.

  I already know what I’ll do when I win my hundredth match.

  I’ll do what I’ve always done.

  I’ll kill.

  Here in the arena.

  I’ll stay a gladiator but at least I’ll be free.

  And I’ll let those dreams of a better life with a woman I love die alongside my opponents.

  And then, I’ll truly be free.

  “Kaeso Vinicius,” my master hollers as he struts into my cell. I stay with the other gladiators in the depths of the Colosseum, but I’m the only one to have my own room and a bed. Being a winner pays, even if being a slave doesn’t.

  Septimus has a look of pure joy on his face as he tosses me a basket full of food. “You’ve made me one of the richest men in all of Rome.”

  I start munching on an apple, biting half of it with one chomp as I look through the rest of the fresh food.

  “Killing always makes you hungry,” he says with a grin as I shove the other half of the apple into my mouth. “Does it make you horny too?”

  “If you pull out your cock, I’m chopping it off.”

  He throws back his head and roars out a laugh. If any other slave in the empire threatened to chop off their master’s cock, they would be bleeding all over the dirt, but I make Septimus too much money for that.

  “You’ve turned down every girl I’ve offered you,” he says with a grin. “So, I’m offering you six.”

  I roll my eyes as he ducks his head back into the hall and starts barking out orders. “Bring the girls here!”