When In Rome – 02_(0)

Author’s Notes
No romance in this one – it’s quite a bit hotter than the last (in my opinion). The “murder” that I’ve tagged this with is only mentioned in the first scene, which is not erotic. So feel free to just skip down to Lykos’s POV if you want.

Always open to feedback, or suggestions for improvement :]

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CHAPTER TWO:
Scene 01: Cassuis – Sex? NO.
Scene 02: Lykos – Sex? Yes. Father/Daughter
Scene 03: Callia – Sex? Yes. Daughter fucked by father + brother.
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CASSIUS
They called him Death. At least, the superstitious plebs did. He’d heard from one of his father’s whores that they were too frightened of him to speak his name. That if you even mouthed Cassius’s full name after dusk, he would appear to kill you. As if he were a daemon with nothing better to do.
He rode ahead of his brothers. The people on the streets wouldn’t look at him. Every one of them thought that this was his doing. He didn’t blame them. If he hadn’t known for sure that he’d been buried in his sister’s cunt when the fucking murder took place, he’d probably wonder if he’d done it.
This wasn’t the first body they’d found, cut up in the same way. It was the fourth. In a week. He jumped off his horse and heard his brothers were following. A drunk in a stained robe kept his eyes on the riverbank as he pointed. His hand shook.
“Found her just over there. Sir. Heard you wanted to be called on if there was another one.”
The man was scrawny, his cheeks drawn in in hunger, and Cassius turned to shield him from view as he pressed a few coins into the man’s hand. When he started to thank him, Cassius’ hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword.
“Don’t say a word or I’ll cut your throat. Spend it on bread, not wine, or I still might.”
The man nodded and scurried away before his brothers approached. Marcus led the way, squinting into the darkness as he tried to find the body.
“Did none of you think to bring a fucking light?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I have one.” Gaius, the second oldest of five, stepped in front of him and they made their way down the riverbank. There she was, draped over the rocks like the corpse of a siren. Every one of the multitude of cuts in her flesh was surgical. Methodical. Just as precise as he’d have made them if this was his work. Whoever had done this.. he was a second side to Cassius’ own coin.
The first three dead prostitutes had been dark-headed. This one was not, and he felt his hands clenching into fists as Gaius stepped closer to her body with the lamp. Red hair was caked with blood and clumped around her face. It was still wet. He pressed two fingers against her wrist. She was still warm. This was a fresh kill.
“Did anyone see anything?”
Marcus shrugged, and headed off to talk to the people crowded at the top of the ravine. Atticus and Hector followed.
Gaius turned to him. “He’s a fucking spirit. A Daemon. No one’s seen him yet.”
“Does anyone know who she is?”
He turned back toward the hill as a scream pierced the night. A woman was fighting with Marcus, trying to push past him.
When he got close enough to see the woman, he realized she wasn’t a plebeian at all. Her clothing was expensive, cut perfectly. Her red hair was piled high on top of her head. A man stood beside her, finally pulled her off Marcus. It wasn’t until he moved closer to the light that Cassius realized he knew him. The first three dead girls had been prostitutes. The redhead on the rocks was not. Not if these were her parents.
“Cassius.” The man, Titus Tulia, turned to face him. His mouth was set in a tight line, dark shadows were cast under his eyes. “Is it Claudia? Is that my daughter?”
He had no idea. But Marcus might.
“Marcus.” He waved him over, and pulled him aside. “Is that Titus’s girl? The one about your age?”
His eyes widened. “Might be. I need another look.”
“Then go take one.”
It was. The girl on the rocks was not a dead whore. She was a nobleman’s daughter. And Cassius rode home with a blackened eye he gained while trying to stop the man from rushing down to the side of the ravine to find his child’s body in the condition that it was in. He’d promised to send the girl home to him, once she could be dressed. And cleaned.
He was in a strange mood on the way home, trying to figure out why the fuck he cared. He usually cared about no one’s feelings.
Part of him already knew.
She was a pretty young girl with red hair.
She reminded him of Callia.
Their father was waiting by the door when they arrived.
He stood silent as his brothers explained the situation. He wanted to go upstairs, to find his girl in his bed, warm, naked and sleeping. Alive.
“You know most people believe this is your work, Cass.” His father’s eyes narrowed as he studied him.
He clenched his jaw. “I was here. All day. And yesterday, as well.”
Lykos nodded. “I know that. Your brothers know that. But-“
“Who else fucking matters?”
His father regarded him silently for a moment, and nodded. “Send your sister to me when you finish with her.”
He accepted that as a dismissal. “I won’t be finished with her until morning.”
He found his sister curled up on his floor, shivering in her sleep. He lifted her as if she were no more than a child and put her down on his bed. She barely stirred. He wrapped his body around hers, tucked his face against her neck and fell asleep.

*

LYKOS
He hadn’t intended to turn Callia into a whore. Truly, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.
He was quite attached to her, actually, after she was born. She’d been a clever baby, like his sons. And funny. He’d actually thought of sending her to school, like the nobleman’s daughter she was, and use her marriage to gain a powerful ally in Rome.
His wife, Lyssandra had intervened.