Slaves To Love - 2 - Damian & Demetrios

Slaves To Love - 2 - Damian & Demetrios

J.P. Bowie

Slaves to Love

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When Damian, a young artist, is commissioned to sculpt the image of Demetrios, Rome’s current darling of the arena, he finds himself falling in love with the handsome gladiator. Despite his father’s vow to disown him, Damian follows his heart—and when he and Demetrios are caught in the conflagration that threatens to destroy Rome, their love for one another gives them the strength to survive the flames.But their future together looks uncertain when Damian, rounded up along with Christians accused of setting the fire, is separated from Demetrios and forced into a fight to the death in the arena.

 
PUBLISHED BY: JP Bowie
ISBN:
PUBLICATION DATE: 2010
WORD COUNT: 34
SEXUAL CONTENT RATING: 4 4 4 4
EBOOK READER RATING:
CATEGORIES: ManLove, Action/Adventure, Erotica, Historical, Romantic Fiction
KEYWORDS: man love, historicial, gladiators, erotica
 

EBOOKS BY JP Bowie

EBOOKS BY J.P. Bowie

 
EXCERPT
COPYRIGHT J.P. Bowie/2010

So lost in thought was I, that I did not hear the quiet footfall behind me.
“Do you also feel the need for solitude?” A man’s voice startled me, making me slop my wine onto my tunic.
“Oh, my apologies!” He stood before me, gazing down at the wine stain spreading across my chest. I stared
up at him, my jaw a little slack as I drank in the beauteous sight of his face, his dark green eyes under straight
feathery brows. Nothing that I had drawn from memory came close to the marvel of his very real presence.
“Please forgive me,” he said, a look of real concern on his handsome features.
Pulling myself together, I jumped to my feet. “There is nothing to forgive,” I said, my voice sounding
unpleasantly squeaky to my ears. “It was my fault entirely.”
His hand brushed at my chest in a useless attempt to wipe away the wine stain, and his touch made me
feel weak at the knees. I had recognized him instantly. Demetrios, the gladiator—and he was everything I had
dreamed of, and more. Standing so near me, his beauty was astounding. Having only seen him at a distance
as he stood in the arena, I had only imagined the perfection of his features—and now it was all there for me
to see, and believe. He was perhaps, a half head taller than myself, his body slim and hard beneath the russet
brown tunic he wore.
“I am Demetrios,” he said, bowing slightly in greeting.
I thrust out my hand. “Damian Valerius.” His hand on mine scalded my skin, yet I wanted it to remain there
forever. “You are the gladiator,” I added unnecessarily.
“You’ve seen me fight?”
“Yes, my sister is a keen supporter of the arena.”
“And you are not?”
“Only when you are fighting,” I replied, with more boldness than I had intended. “I saw you show mercy to
the boy with the net and trident, who obviously was not ready to face someone with your experience.”
“Ah yes, young Castus. He will never be a fighter, I fear.” His eyes searched mine for a moment. “I think I
met your sister a few moments ago. There is a resemblance.”
“Yes, Portia.”
“That’s right, Portia. A very attractive young woman. Very much like her brother.”
Slaves to Love: Damian & Demetrios
9
“You think me an attractive young woman?” I jested.
He laughed aloud. “Indeed not!” He touched my wine goblet with his own. “I drink to your health, Damian
Valerius.”
“And I to yours,” I responded. “May your skill and speed protect you for many years to come.”
His face clouded. “It is not my intention to fight for many more years.”
“Good…” Before I could say anything else, Portia and Tiberius burst into the garden, laughing loudly.
“Damian, I see you’re monopolizing the guest of honor.” It was obvious my sister had been tippling a little
too heavily. “Has he consented to take off all his clothes for you?”
“What?” I gasped. “Portia…”
She giggled at my shocked expression. “Demetrios, has he not yet plucked up enough courage to ask you if
you would model for him? My brother is an accomplished sculptor.”
“An excellent idea,” Tiberius gushed. “I would order a copy for myself, and I know many others who would
too.”
Demetrios looked at my reddening face and smiled. “No, you didn’t ask me to model for you. Now I feel
slighted.”
“I just hadn’t got around to it,” I mumbled, staring daggers at Portia.
“So, now it’s all arranged,” she said, winking at me. “Tiberius, can you arrange for it with Demetrios’
owner?”
His owner. Those words clutched at my heart like a cold vice. From the first moment we had been together,
I had forgotten that Demetrios was a slave. He seemed so self-assured, so free.
“Yes, I can arrange that,” Tiberius was saying in his pompous way. “I know Claudius Celer well.”
I looked at Demetrios who met my gaze with an open, clear-eyed look. I suppose he was used to this
disregard for what he might think of such an arrangement.
“What say the day after tomorrow?” Tiberius was saying. “I know you’re not fighting that day, Demetrios.”
The day after tomorrow. My heart leaped at the thought of it. He and I, alone with no one to get in the way,
or interrupt our conversation—as long as I could keep Portia out of the way, of course.
“It would be an honor,” Demetrios murmured, holding my eyes with his own. “I will look forward to it.”
“Excellent,” Tiberius simpered, then took my sister by the arm. “Come, my dear, there is something I must
show you.”
Giggling, Portia let herself be led away. I frowned as I watched them go.
“You are troubled.” The deep, but gentle voice at my side interrupted my thoughts.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “My sister sometimes acts inappropriately. I worry about her being led astray.”
“I doubt if anything too inappropriate will take place tonight.” Demetrios directed my attention to the
dining room where Tiberius and his wife were exchanging quiet, but obviously angry words. “You see,” he said,
touching my arm, “Tiberius has quite enough to contend with, and your sister has discreetly
found another man to charm.”
“Her betrothed will be home next week,” I told him. “Perhaps then, she will stop this giddiness.”
He smiled, and my heart all but stopped. “You make a wonderful big brother,” he said. We sat for a moment
or two, gazing into one another’s eyes. I wondered if he could hear my heart beating, so loudly it sounded in
my own ears.

 
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