Lycan Gladiator (Wolf Maiden Saga) Read online

  Author Note

  Lycan Gladiator is a story that takes place in an alternative universe where lycans exist. Real historical events and a few characters, including Emperor Titus Flavius Caesar Domitianus Augustus who ruled Rome 81-96 AD, were fictionalized to create the historical fantasy.

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  For Drew, who keeps me grounded.

  Chapter 1

  Rome 95 AD

  Cassia woke to the songs of birds outside their new villa’s lush garden and small vineyard. She dressed in her finest stola and pinned her unruly hair up in the popular Roman style. It had been two months since they had arrived in Rome. Unlike her home in the cold north, the coming winter in Rome would be mild. She enjoyed her new home in Trastevere on the west bank of the Tiber. At first, she protested the move, but Gaius had insisted that lycans needed the services of a physician. He also had a small practice for humans.

  Gaius’s small villa was a gift from his senator lover, Servius Ovidus Cato. He had met Ovidus Cato after he had removed a bothersome boil from the senator’s leg. Cato was a man of wealth and influence, the kind Gaius desired. Gaius had made the decision to move to Rome to be close to the senator. Better that, than his unrequited love for their pack leader Lupercus Laelianus Albius.

  Albius was in love and loyal to his mate, the human wolf maiden, Sylvestra. Like all wolf maidens meant for the alpha male his wife had the mark of the lycan wolf print on her left hip. A mark smaller than a dinari coin. Cassia bore the mark as well.

  Gaius stepped into her chamber. “Join me for the morning meal.”

  Cassia caught the whiff of the fresh bread. She pressed her lips in concentration and adjusted her hairpin. “I will meet you shortly.”

  Gaius laughed. “Very well, but do not tarry. I promised to meet a patient this afternoon.”

  She paused and asked as he turned to leave, “A lycan patient?”

  He half turned. “No. Human.”

  Lycans seldom suffered illness or injury, but if they did, she would accompany Gaius. She learned long ago she was a Valeria Luperca, a rare woman born with the power to heal the most lethal of lycan wounds, both physical and emotional. This magic did not work on humans, only canines.

  Pack wars would ensue to possess such a wolf maiden deemed goddess touched. Though destined for an alpha mate, her gift was kept secret from all except Gaius, their trusted slave Ferox, the Northern Alpha Albius, and his sister Petronia, the newly appointed head of the Lupercal. All others knew her as Cassia, Gaius’s slave girl and physician apprentice. It was not uncommon for a slave to be a physician. She took a blood vow to keep their society secret. Lycans threatened their slaves with certain death if they broke the vow. Slaves were at their masters’ whims, after all.

  She gazed at her reflection in her mirror. She looked no different from any other woman. Yet her healing touch made her a most valued wolf maiden. The lycans’ Helen of Troy. She understood why the head of the Lupercal, Petronia, wished her gift kept a secret.

  Cassia joined Gaius in the dining room where Ferox, the old loyal slave, served them salted bread with honey, fruits, and cheese. He poured them watered wine and left to prepare the next meal.

  “You look exquisite. Tell me, is there a suitor I’m not aware of?” Gaius teased.

  “Certainly not.” She shot him a frown. “Were you not the one who suggested I dress more fashionably?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Indeed, but dear Feronia, all of Rome will take note of such a goddess walking through the streets of the market simply to fetch a silly goat.”

  “Well, I thought I would purchase more fabric for bandaging before picking up Egidius.” A few days prior, she had brought her little white goat she kept as a pet to have his hooves trimmed.

  “Perhaps you should take Ferox with you.”

  “Oh, Gaius, this is not the first time I’ve gone to the Subura by myself.” She wanted to add, I’m no longer a child but held her tongue.

  “But not dressed like such a fine woman.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Do not worry.”

  He sipped his wine as if trying to calm his fatherly concerns. “Bring back more poppy seeds, if you can.”

  Her tone turned serious. “In case they are needed after tonight’s game?” She remembered catching a glimpse of the handsome, strapping Ulricus, the undefeated barbarian gladiator, the people’s favorite, and the champion rich women fawned over. Allowed to do as he pleased, he was still a slave to his master, Lupercus Caninus Macula. His master commanded Ulricus to first parade in the arena in human form before transforming into his wolfen form. How soon before humans discovered Ulricus was not the only lycan?

  Gaius sighed in distain. “Macula has gone too far and is risking the wrath of the Lupercal.”

  Next to the Lupercal leader, Macula was the most powerful alpha lycan in all of Rome. He served as the Emperor Domitian’s protector and confident. The cruel emperor killed any who displeased him whether in the arena or out. She shrugged. “This savage lycan gladiator is all that Rome talks about.”

  Gauis pounded a fist on his thigh. “I heard rumors Emperor Domitian confiscated the property of the Domitius family and had them executed so their wealth could pay for the spectacle.”

  “Just for one game?”

  “Yes, the so called Venatio or staged animal hunt. One of Macula’s betas told me all about it. The game is to be a Wolf Hunt. Emperor Domitian’s brilliant idea of pitting the Germanian gladiator and a pack of captured wolves against a group of human gladiators. Armed with spears and nets, the gladiators will also be aided by massive hounds trained to kill lions. Domitian spared no expense, adding an extra tier and closing the coliseum for nearly a month in preparation.”

  Cassia lost her appetite. The emperor’s older brother Titus had built the Roman coliseum and after his death, Domitian had become obsessed with adding to the arena’s grandeur. The emperor had a cruel fondness for the Bestiari or beast games. Since the coliseum’s construction, thousands upon thousands of beasts, men, women, and children had been slaughtered for the public’s entertainment. Would Ulricus survive the game? “What are they setting up?”

  “Apparently the audience will be treated to men searching the replica forested woods of the Rhine River for a pack of wolves and their savage Verspilles Germanic cannibalistic wolf god, Ulricus. Of course, no one knows the tale is false. One of Domitian’s poets hired to write the story for the performance invented the yarn. Macula promised the Lupercal that the public believed Ulricus was the only lycan living amongst them. “

  She sighed. “I do not wish to go.”

  “But Cassia if he is injured he may require your healing touch.”

  “I told you. I will never attend the games.”

  ***

  No one mistook Ulric as a Roman. He wore his Germanian furs and breeches. In contrast to the clean-shaven Roman men, Ulric sported light beard growth and his long dark hair hung down his back. He strolled through the Subura. In the marketplace beggars roamed while slaves ran between booths, shopping for their masters. Unusual, but not unheard of, rich Romans with their bodyguards and upper class women in their curtained litters crowded the narrow streets.

  The stench of refuse and excrement rose to offend Ulric’s highly attuned sense of smell. Boys ran by his side and touched him as if he were a god rather than a man. Others gawked, but most gave him a wide berth. Even the gangs who controlled the territories around the Subura did not
dare make eye contact with him. A barbarian with the monstrous power of the wolf walking among a herd of sheep. Wall graffiti depicted him as a wolf standing on his hind legs as it devoured a Roman wearing the toga of a rich citizen. Decapitated heads and entrails of other victims of his ferocious hunger lay at the caricature’s pawed feet.

  One street urchin leading a band of boys called. “Ulricus!” The boy cupped his hands to his mouth and howled.

  Ulric stopped. Displayed his fangs and growled. He laughed as the urchins screamed and ran.

  One woman in a litter dropped the curtain she had been peeking from and yelled to her carriers, “Leave before he eats us all.”

  Human flesh. He smirked. We are forbidden to eat you, but we can still kill you. As an alpha, the lunar cycle did not rule his actions. However, the wolfen betas if not controlled by their alpha during the waxed moon would go on a killing spree. The only type of human he enjoyed was the myriad of prostitutes who pleasured him after the games.

  Still, he longed for the life mate his mother spoke of. More important than her freedom, she wanted him to find a wolf maiden to complete his life. She promised if he gave his heart to a mate then his soul would find salvation from his murderous deeds in the arena. He muttered in his Chattian language, “All this talk of love was not like Mother.” However, she spoke the truth. An alpha deserved such a human mate. Impossible. Not while he remained a slave, an omega without a pack.

  An old slave walked up to him, his back bent from the heavy load he carried, the scent of despair heavy on his breath. “Ulricus, do not allow them to kill you.”

  He scoffed. “A beast god will not allow mere mortals to kill me.” He winked at him and headed for a place to eat, his mind occupied with tonight. On the full moon he would entertain them with the blood they so craved. Roman citizens. Too weak to survive combat with him and worse, too weak to fight their own kind in the arena. All cowards loved the blood sport from the safety of their seats.

  His stomach growled. He craved fresh game. Meat here would already be half rotted. Feronia his adopted goddess must have heard his prayers. A young white goat ran into the middle of the street, a rope around his neck as if it had escaped from a butcher. Meat. He salivated. It looked confused, helpless, prey for the taking.

  “Baaa!”

  His fangs emerged and drool pooled in his mouth. Fresh kid. People in his way quickly stepped aside lest they be caught in his blood lust. He smiled. What did it matter if he started the performance earlier with a fresh kill? Let them know the ferocity of a wolfen. His claws sprang out, and he stalked his prey. Ready to break its neck. His low growl silenced the frozen bystanders. A woman screamed and he hesitated. He stiffened, thunderstruck at the vision of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “Egidius!” The woman dressed in a fine, white gold-laced tunic and matching palla dashed from the alleyway. Her veil askew, she knelt by her goat and covered him with her arms. She glared at him with intense, captivating green eyes. A sprig of green in the dust-ridden market. “You will not eat my goat!”

  He forgot his fangs were out and drool dripped from his lower lip. Realizing his beast-like state, he cupped his hand over his mouth like a bashful child. A curled strand of her rich brown hair slipped from its upswept style and hung down her exquisite long neck. Her figure, slender like a swan.

  Her hand gripping her goat’s rope, she stood. He did not smell fear, most unusual for a Roman woman facing the infamous wolf man. Her emerald eyes pierced through his hardened soul. He sniffed her aroma. Her divine scent made him forget his hunger, at least for food. Something about her calmed him. What manner of spell had she cast? He felt drunk with wine, not to the point of belligerence, but enough to make him relax and nap. She appeared to be upper class, a woman unavailable to him not only for his status but also because of his kind. Yet she did not look Roman. Was she from Gaul or perhaps the north? He gave her a wolfish grin. “If you are off to the butcher, I would love to share a bite of meat with you.” He gently guided her from the major thoroughfare.

  She frowned and adjusted her fallen veil with her free hand. “Egidius is my pet. I brought him to have his hooves trimmed.”

  He boomed a laugh. “A goat for a pet?” He glanced down at her beautiful face. He heard the loud beat of her heart even in the din of the passing crowds. The sound pleased him. Was she his mate? Not possible. She did not wear the red cloak of the wolf maiden.

  Her green eyes met his. “I have heard of you, gladiator.” She scoffed. “Ulricus, wolf king of the Verspilles.”

  If only he could tell her he was not what the Romans called a monstrous wolf man but rather a lycan from the north, but she would not understand the difference. Like an adolescent boy, he boasted, flexing his biceps. “Come tonight and witness the Wolf Hunt.”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak but scowled and shook her head. “I will not watch such mockery.” She huffed and pulled her goat by its rope through the crowds.

  A woman alone in the narrow alleyways with thieves and violent gangs. How could such a woman be out without a guard? Never had he felt so protective of any human other than his mother. He shoved two men out of the way. “Wait!”

  She stopped not for want but because she could not go through the traffic of people. She turned. Her tone was sad rather than annoyed, “Let me be.” She stuck her chin up and pushed her way along the busy street.

  The woman had spirit and didn’t appear to have the blood lust of the general populace. Most curious. Ulric picked up the goat and placed him about his thick neck.

  “Baaa!” It protested.

  She reached out. “Put him down!”

  “I will guide you back to your home, lady…”

  “Cassia.” She smoothed her palla and threw him a small smile that made him forget the world but her. A dimple on her cheek made her smile the most beautiful one he had ever seen. The red hues in her brown hair danced in the sunlight. With twinkling eyes, she studied him as if she looked at a strange beast. Was he the first lycan she had met?

  “I live on the west bank of the Tiber River. It’s a far walk.” She glanced toward the direction of the arena. “Don’t you have to prepare for the games?”

  “Cassia.” He smiled. “I have plenty of time.”

  She bit her succulent lower lip. “Very well, gladiator.”

  He suppressed his temptation to kiss her exquisite lips. “Please, call me Ulric.”

  She blushed and cast her gaze down. “Ulric.”

  He followed her through the narrow alleyways, making room with his shadowing bulk. She walked with the nubile grace of a gazelle. Was she a dancer? Her glorious scent reminded him of the expensive perfume rich noble women adorned themselves with. He had never found the aroma of a human so enticing. Why did he feel so protective of this unappreciative woman? Yet her reddened cheeks and rapid pulse indicated she found him attractive.

  As they made their way through the hectic marketplace, he slowed. “Cassia, slow down.” He wanted to know everything about her. But where to start?

  She turned and moved closer to him as people moved out of his way like sheep skirting a herding dog. “Yes, Ulric?”

  He stopped and cleared his throat. “So why a pet goat?” he asked, blocking the din of the merchants shouting at potential patrons as they strolled through the busy thoroughfare.

  “His mother died after his birth, and I nursed him.” She laughed and he smiled. “He is more than a pet; he is entertainment. He amuses me with his acrobatic dancing.” She walked ahead in silence. Her hips swaying with each step entranced him. A deep growl escaped. He hungered for more than food.

  Ulric’s blood heated as other men threw lustful glances at her. They crossed a crowded bridge and he scowled at anyone who walked too close to his gazelle with the lovely brown tresses. She stole a glance at him every so often and smiled. Her dimple teasing him.

  “Ulricus!”

  He and Cassia turned. His friend and owner of a small tavern waved h
im over.

  Ulric smiled. “Milo, tell me you have fresh meat for me.” He turned to Cassia. “My lady, let us have a quick meal.”

  “Please, I must make haste.”

  Milo bowed. “Domina, I promise to bring you fine wine and fresh bread and cheese.”

  Ulric stepped into the tavern with her goat. He left her no choice but to follow him. The tavern grew silent. The people inside gave him guarded, frightened looks before they returned to their conversations. He set Egidius down as Milo led her to a seat across from Ulric in a private back room. No one would dare complain about a goat inside the tavern.

  Cassia’s cheeks flushed. “Ulric, I had not planned on eating out.” She lowered her voice, “Nor alone with a man.”

  He smiled. “Consider Egidius your chaperone. Besides, you are famished. So please do me the honor of gracing my table.” He pulled out a chair for her.

  She sat and arched her brow. “How did you know?”

  “My wolfen senses heard your stomach grumble.”

  Cassia laughed. “I forgot. Wolves have outstanding ears.”

  Her sweet laughter enhanced her dimples and his inner wolf howled in joy.

  Milo brought wine and Ulric handed him a bag of coins. Milo protested, “Nonsense. The meal is free. In honor of tonight’s Bestiari game.”

  As a rule, the animal games were held in the morning; however, Emperor Domitian had made an exception. Ulric smiled. “Thank you, my friend.”

  Milo quipped. “And besides, I have much coin bet on you winning tonight’s spectacle.” He leaned over and whispered, “You will become the fierce wolf during the Wolf Hunt spectacle?”

  Ulric did not want to frighten his beautiful companion. “That, my friend, depends on the stakes.”

  Milo leaned in. “I heard our Lord Emperor hired an architect to stage every detail of your ancestral forest. I doubt he’ll be pleased if you remain a man.” He bowed to Cassia and left to get their food.

  Ulric’s stomach knotted. This new spectacle brought ill memories of his Chattian pack’s defeat in their territory, high in the mountains of the Hercynian Forest. Ulric, most of the betas, and his human mother were enslaved after the attack. His father and uncles had died a most hideous death. The Caninus pack did not win with honor, by sword or fangs, but with poison. Wolfsbane. Though he had been a youth, he had slaughtered his first lycan, Macula’s older brother.