War Prize (A Roman Britain story)

Chapter Six

  Author's Notes: Another quick thank you to everyone who has taken the time to vote and comment, i can't tell you how much it means to me. I know that some people want more updates during the week, which i'm sorry to say isn't possible. I work 45+ hours a week as i'm self employed, and i have to be social with my family, friends and a boyfriend who gets grouchy if i miss our movie marathons. They stage interventions if i go back to my teenage hermit self!

But what i can do is promise an update a week and make the chapters longer, so i hope it won't be too discouraging for you. I would normally average an update around 1500 words, but i will try for 2500 a chapter. I hope this will be okay for everyone.

Chapter Six

“Then be quick about it.” She said with a lift of her chin, meeting those damned eyes. Her words held none of the fear she felt, nor the uncontrollable shaking of her body. Her family would be proud that she faced the jaws of the underworld without falling at the feet of this man.

Oh Gods, her family. What should be a happy occasion for all of them would now turn to tragedy. Would they ever know what really happened to her or would they simply think she was lost to the sea?

The warrior just stared down at her, face unreadable. It was a force that could have been carved from the finest Roman marble, utterly serene. No thought flickered across it, no emotion darkened those eyes. It was like he was completely untouchable to any outside concerns.

Then he smiled, and his face was transformed. He was that demon on the horse again, the one who laughed at the blood of his enemy as it coated his sword.

He inclined his head, a mockery of a bow. “If you insist.”

Aurelia tensed, expecting him to draw his sword and run her through. Instead, he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around so he pinned her to the tree by her back. Her cheek was pressed none too gently against the bark and it broke skin. She gritted her teeth and spat in anger. “What do you think you’re doing?”

With one hand in the centre of her back between her shoulder blades, the other hand left her shoulder to run down the side of her torso and hip, the touch deceptively soft. The tips of his fingers grazed sensitive areas and she cringed.

She stopped her struggles, confused at the new turn of events, her heart beating in her throat. “What are you…”

The hand paused at her hip for a moment before continuing down the outside of her thigh and then, using only the pads of his fingers, began inching her dress up in excrutiating slow motion.

Her eyes widened, mind slow to pick up his que before helpfully supplying her with all the tales she had heard of what happened to women when they got caught outside the protection of their family circle. She renewed her struggles, helped by a burst of frightened adrenaline, trying to kick out at him with her sandal clad feet and hit home.

But he was just too strong for her. He used one of his legs to push her feet apart, making her stance wide so she couldn’t kick out at him again for risk of unbalancing and toppling over. He pulled the hem of her dress up to her knee and Aurelia panicked, bucking wildly.

“Please, don’t!”

There was a sudden tearing sound and her dress fell back into place, minus a few inches of cloth at the back. He had torn a long strip off her dress. Before she could ask again what he was doing, he spun her back to face him.

“Put your hands out in front of you, wrists crossed.” He demanded gruffly.

She hesitated to do as he bid, and his body stilled. Catching her eye, he said “Do not make me hurt you. Put your hands out, wrists crossed.”