even realising, she reached out to touch his face. ‘You’re all right?’

He smiled. ‘I will be, yes.’

They stared at each other, and then Spartacus reached up to enclose her hand in his.

Ariadne bit her lip, but she didn’t move. She could feel a strange but pleasant warmth in the pit of her stomach. He was going to be fine. Thank you, Dionysus.

The surgeon came fussing in with a bowl of metal staples and the magic vanished, like a feather carried away on the wind. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later. What he needs now is for that wound to be closed, before any foul airs get into it. Leave us in peace.’

Spartacus’ lips twitched. ‘You heard the man. I’ll see you in our cell in a short while.’

‘Yes.’ Reluctant to let Spartacus out of her sight, Ariadne backed away. She lingered by the door until the surgeon gestured irritably at her to get out. Feeling happier than she had in an age, Ariadne walked towards the baths. This was a good time of the day to have a wash. The gladiators mostly washed in the evening, when their day’s work was done. Getas and Seuthes would check that the area was empty, and then she could relax in peace. And think about Spartacus, she thought with a guilty stab of pleasure.

She smiled at the two Thracians as they disappeared inside. For once, life was very sweet.

‘Going to clean yourself up and give him a victory fuck, are you?’

Ariadne turned in horror to find Phortis three steps away, with half a dozen guards at his back. Several were carrying lengths of rope. The Capuan clicked his fingers. ‘You know what to do.’ Grinning, the men shoved past, into the baths.

Too late, Ariadne cursed her decision not to carry her snake. She’d thought only to be gone from her cell for a few moments. ‘W-what are you doing?’ Her eyes flickered around the yard, desperately looking for Carbo, or any of the Thracians allied to Spartacus. She couldn’t see a single one.

Knowing what she was doing, Phortis moved fast. He stepped in close, and shoved his face into hers. His breath stank, and Ariadne recoiled. ‘Why, nothing. I just wanted us to have a little time together without your shitbag of a husband.’

She tried to step away, but Phortis pinned her against the wall. One hand immediately dropped to her groin. Letting out a sigh of lust, he cupped her crotch with his palm. ‘Sweet,’ he breathed into her ear. ‘Very sweet.’

Ariadne sank her teeth into his neck.

With an animal squeal of pain, Phortis pulled free. Ariadne had a brief impression of the blood oozing from her teeth marks before he backhanded her across the cheek with all his might. Half stunned, she felt her knees give way beneath her, but then Phortis threw an arm around her shoulders and hauled her bodily inside the door, shoving it closed with his foot.

Through eyes that were barely able to focus, Ariadne saw Getas and Seuthes lying tied up side by side. Both their faces were cut and bruised from the attack that had rendered them helpless. The leering guards stood over them. This was all planned, she thought dully. With that, Phortis threw her to the floor. Ariadne’s head cracked off the mosaic, and another sheet of pain slashed through her brain. She was barely conscious as the Capuan ripped off her clothes and pulled down his own undergarment. Old, terrible memories of her father were woken, however, when he knelt and she saw his throbbing erection spring free. ‘No!’ Ariadne mumbled. ‘Please, no.’

‘That means you really want it, you whore,’ Phortis snarled. ‘You’re all the same!’

‘No,’ she said, pitching her voice as loudly she could. Dionysus, help me!

‘Leave her alone, you bastard!’ shouted Getas.

One of the guards kicked him in the belly, and Phortis delivered another mighty slap to Ariadne’s face.

She slumped back on to the floor, unable to stop him from forcing her legs apart. He moved up to crouch over her, and she felt his stiffness pressing against her groin. ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment since I clapped eyes on you.’ With that, he leaned down to kiss her on the lips. Ariadne closed her eyes as the Capuan forced his tongue into her mouth. She tried with all her willpower to bite off the probing piece of flesh, but there was no power in her jaws. A heartbeat later, the magnitude of her ordeal was amplified a thousandfold when Phortis shoved his pelvis forward and tried to enter her.

Nausea and revulsion washed over Ariadne in a great tide — as it had so many times in her childhood. All at once, she felt an overwhelming need to vomit. She gagged; Phortis recoiled, and then she was sick all over her front. Little spatters of puke flew up to cover his face.

I wish you’d drown in it, you cocksucker.

Phortis used the arm of his tunic to wipe off the worst of the gobbets before leering down at her. ‘You dirty bitch! That’s only whetted my appetite.’ With a deep grunt, he pushed himself inside her and began to thrust to and fro.

Ariadne gasped with the shock and pain of it. She wasn’t surprised, when she looked up again, to see her father’s face instead of Phortis’. She saw the same lust twisting his features. The same glitter in his cold, dead eyes. Heard the same animal noises of pleasure leaving his lips. ‘I hate you,’ she hissed. ‘I always did, and I always will.’

‘Huh?’

She blinked. Phortis had reappeared. ‘I call down a curse on your miserable head,’ she breathed. ‘May Dionysus’ maenads stalk your every footstep. The moment that you stumble, they will swarm all over you, and rend your flesh to shreds. Nothing will be left of you but a grinning skull and a jumble of gnawed bones.’ Ariadne saw the fear mushroom in Phortis’ eyes, felt him shrivel inside her, and somehow she dragged a manic laugh from the bottom of her lungs. ‘Call yourself a man? You’re nothing but a limp-pricked pig!’

This time, it was Phortis’ turn to recoil. Ariadne’s reprieve lasted no more than a heartbeat, however. He drew back his right arm to strike her again. She closed her eyes, and steeled herself against the pain that would follow.

‘Phortis!’

Ariadne felt the Capuan tense. His blow did not fall.

‘Phortis, where are you, damn it? Crassus is about to leave. We still have much to discuss.’ Batiatus sounded irritated.

Phortis grabbed Ariadne’s chin and forced her to look at him. ‘You’re in luck, you whore. Next time, you won’t be so fortunate. And don’t think that there won’t be a next time! I’ll be watching you, from dawn till dusk. Spartacus and his pathetic rabble can’t watch over you every moment of every day. A gag in your mouth will stop you from spewing your poison. If you should choke to death on your vomit while I fuck you, no one would be better pleased than I.’

‘Phortis!’ yelled Batiatus.

‘I’m coming, master!’ Adjusting his clothing, the Capuan got to his feet. He glared at the guards. ‘Untie those two. Follow me out when you hear me move off with Batiatus.’ With a final, malevolent look at Ariadne, he was gone.

Overcome by her pain, her shame and her terror, Ariadne lapsed into the oblivion that had been threatening to overcome her.

When Ariadne awoke, her head felt as if someone was pounding a pair of lump hammers off it. A thin, thready pulse beat off the back of her eyelids. She opened her eyes, and a wave of nausea swept through her. She retched, and at once someone — the surgeon? — rolled her on to her side, placing the cold lip of a vessel to her lips. ‘Let it out. Let it all out.’

After a moment, it was clear that there was little left in Ariadne’s stomach to come up. The bowl was taken away, and she was moved on to her back again. ‘Spartacus,’ she croaked.

‘I’m here,’ he said gently.

Her eyes swivelled, finding him only a step away, right behind the surgeon. ‘Thank the gods,’ she whispered.

His smile was supposed to be reassuring, but the worry was etched clearly on his face as he turned to the Greek. ‘Well?’

‘I couldn’t feel any breaks in her skull, but it’s far too early to say if there’s been any lasting damage,’ muttered the surgeon. ‘She needs to stay in bed for at least a day and a night.’

Lasting damage? thought Ariadne in amazement. There was a fuzzy edge to her vision, and her headache was excruciating, but she could feel her strength beginning to return. ‘How long was I unconscious?’

‘Long enough. Phortis is an animal!’ replied the surgeon savagely. He handed Spartacus a glass phial. ‘She

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