Caroline Storer - The Roman

“Where is she?” he hissed, the words forced past tight lips, his face pinched with anger.

“Outside.”

Marsallas said nothing for a moment as his mind raced frantically. He stared at the wooden door, as if he could actually see through it. Justina was here. Outside and waiting for him. He felt his stomach clench, and he forced down the wave of nausea that threatened at the thought of meeting her again. Conflicting emotions surged though him. Anger vied with despair. Rage battled hope. But it was fear that took precedence. Because fear was a double edged sword…

Fear could make him lose what little control he had over his emotions when it came to Justina; emotions he had ruthlessly tried to suppress for years now. Fear could make him lash out, to try and hurt her as much as she had hurt him , or equally, it could make him do something totally out of character, like pull her into his arms and kiss her. Because when it came to Justina, she made him think and feel things he’d never felt for any woman.

For six years long years he’d desperately tried to wipe her from his memory. Sometimes he succeeded, often going weeks without thinking about her. But then something would happen, a jolt to his memory, and he would find himself once more wondering about her…remembering her …

Justina. The only woman he’d ever loved…and the only woman he’d ever hated. She’d taken his love and thrown it back in his face, and in the space of one day she had systematically destroyed him. Her betrayal had turned the young, untried man he’d once been, and made him into the cold, hard, bastard he was today.

And now she was here, waiting outside his quarters, wanting an audience with him. He couldn’t help but wonder if the six years since he’d last seen her had wrought many changes in her. She would be twenty two now, a far cry from the sixteen year old girl he’d known back then.

But that girl had been so beautiful, and he closed his eyes briefly as he remembered what she had looked like. He could picture her as clearly now, as if it had only been yesterday since he’d last seen her, instead of all those years ago. Tall and slim, she’d had the palest of skin that had been so soft to the touch. Skin that had been in stark contrast to her jet black hair, and he remembered teasing her about her heritage, saying she must be descended from a warrior woman enslaved from the wild north lands. Her features had been perfection too, from her wide grey eyes, down over her small straight nose to the fullest lips he’d ever seen. Lips that he’d had the urge to kiss, from the first moment he’d seen them …

Marsallas re-opened his eyes, focusing on the present once more as he weighed up the situation he was now faced with. The rational side of him said that he should just send her away, refuse her request. But the irrational side of him wanted to see her again. It would be a test of sorts he decided. If she elicited no response in him other than distain then he would know for certain that he had finally managed to purge her from his mind once and for all.

The irrational won…

So he sat down, pulled out the knife that was embedded in the wood, and carried on slicing another piece of meat. Deliberately, he kept his posture relaxed, giving nothing away of the inner turmoil he was experiencing, before finally saying to Fabius, “Tell her to come in. I will see her.”

* * *

"If I am not out in five minutes knock on the door. It will be my signal to leave.”

Diogenes frowned, but said nothing, just stared down at her.

Justina smiled slightly, interpreting his look, well used to the slave’s silence. “I will be fine. I promise.”

Diogenes stood aside, and Justina tapped on the door. Without waiting for an answer she pushed it open and entered the dark room.

At first she thought there was no-one there, Fabius having played her false by sending her into an empty room. With only one wall sconce illuminating the room, most of the space was in darkness. But then she saw a slight movement, and as she let her eyes adjust to the dimness, she was able to make out the shadow of a man standing as still as marble to the rear of the room.

Then the shadow spoke. “Justina.”

The emotionless tone of the voice caused Justina to shiver, and her heart to beat faster. There was no mistaking who had said her name. His voice was indelibly printed on her mind. But the tone was deeper than it had once been, rough almost. Yet it had a pleasing quality she couldn’t explain.

Uninvited, she walked further into the room, his presence drawing her to him like an invisible bond, only stopping when she approached the edge of a small table. She glanced down at the remains of a meal, then back up to where the shadow stood. Lifting her head towards him, she said as calmly as she could, “Greetings, Marsallas.”

Then the shadow stepped forward suddenly becoming human flesh, and Justina gasped, her face losing all colour as she took in the man standing in front of her.

There was no doubting it was Marsallas. But at the same time she couldn’t believe how much he’d changed. Virtually unrecognisable from the carefree youth she had once known. Now, in his place stood a virtual stranger, one who looked at her with total indifference on his face.

He looked even taller than she remembered, if that were possible. Broad shoulders tapered down to bare arms, tanned a golden brown. Arms that were crossed over each other, showing off his powerfully bunched muscles. Of their own free will her eyes tracked down his body. Over the impressive width of his chest that couldn't be disguised by the short green tunic he wore, down past the tautness of his flat stomach, to his long, tanned muscular legs.

Justina felt a quiver of awareness slither down her spine, and like a starving woman she feasted on him. The hard sculpted face, the piercing blue eyes she remembered so well. She drank him in, absorbed him, and her fingers actually itched to caress the hard planes of his face, to trace the shape of his eyebrows and the angled hardness of his jaw.

She felt his power. Not just his physical power, but the sheer presence of him. Although he had only said one word, his bearing said it all, and it made her stomach clench. Even now, after all these years, he still had the power to affect her, and without warning a sudden surge of longing, long suppressed, assailed her.

She saw his eyes lower to her mouth. She hadn’t been kissed in years, and she felt desire flare deep inside of her, rising to such an intensity it fairly took her breath away. She ached for him to draw her nearer, to kiss her, to stroke her body to life once more.

Then she saw his eyes narrow, harden, and Justina felt a rush of panic hit her. She was stupid to have come here.

She should have gone back to Herculaneum and lied to Quintus. Said she’d tried to gain an audience with Marsallas, but he had refused to see her. But she hadn’t, and instead she was standing no more than ten feet from him.

Totally at his mercy.

She wanted to flee, but she held her ground. Instead, she straightened her spine, and prepared herself for the ordeal that was to come.

And it would be an ordeal.

She forced a polite smile, desperate to keep to the plan she had mentally prepared whilst standing outside his quarter’s, waiting for Fabius to introduce her. Just go in . She had said, over and over again, like a mantra. Be cordial, say what you have to say, and then get out of there as quickly as you can.

“Thank…thank you for letting me see you. What…what I have to say won’t take long. I-”

“You have come a long way to see me, Justina, considering I said I never wanted to see you again,” Marsallas drawled, his mouth twisting in derision as he interrupted her faltering words. “ And if my memory serves me right, I cursed you to Hades too.”