23: Saga
1011 Words
The way that Talia had spoken to me was infuriating, and I had been on my way back to my room to pack when I saw Caius sitting alone in the courtyard. He was wearing calflength shorts, but he wasn’t wearing a top, because he clearly found modern clothes uncomfortable. He looked appealing enough that I decided I would have some fun before I left - he was attractive enough that I had been drawn to him from the moment I saw him - tall, well built, toned, and he looked to be somewhere in his mid to late thirties, even though I knew now that he had died when he was older than that. His dark hair was a little messy, in a way that seemed deliberate, and it suited the fact he tended to keep his jaw rough with stubble. His golden brown eyes sparkled with an intelligence that seemed to come through mainly in the form of sarcasm, and I had not considered them particularly attractive at first, but I found myself getting lost in them after I grew to know him.
He didn't seem to regret sleeping with me, but we hadn't given in to the spark between us after our first encounter.
He hadn't given in to Talia, either, and whatever they felt for each other seemed less intense than what he seemed to feel for me.
"I hope that Talia will take advantage of that body when I'm gone," I smiled. I wanted to know whether it was worth propositioning him, or if his heart was still bound to her.
"Talia has been taking advantage of me since the day we first met. I'm sure she'll find a way to do so now that I'm back."
"I meant…"
"... I know precisely what you meant. She's a formidable woman and she sees you as a threat."
It wasn't exactly subtle. But he didn't seem to realize why I had asked, and I felt a twinge of guilt that I was planning to take advantage of him, too.
"Oderint dum metuant."
Let them hate so long as they fear; a phrase he was definitely familiar with, because he smiled briefly.
I wasn't afraid of Talia. She wasn't a threat to me.
He looked at me again as I approached the side of the swimming pool - he was curious.
But he was not obsessed with examining every inch of my body to see how special it was, and he wasn't looking at me in abject awe.
He remained seated in the shade staring into the water, and shook his head slightly.
I was worried that I had said the wrong thing and made myself sound stupid, and I felt a flash of frustration because I just hadn’t caught his attention the way I had planned.
The fact he seemed so calm around me meant that he became a challenge - something to conquer - and I stretched my arms above my head lazily so he looked my way, and then slowly removed the bikini top I had chosen to wear when I decided to go to talk to him, letting it fall where I stood.
He raised one of his eyebrows at me, seemingly still unimpressed, but he had not been completely numb to it because he was staring at my n****e piercings, which were enough of a novelty that my performance held his interest.
I shimmied out of the bikini bottoms, which was entirely unnecessary, and for a second I considered bending down slowly to pick them up. But that wasn’t the sort of man he was; if he was so easily swayed by a young woman flirting he would have taken the hint every other time I approached him.
I crouched down, instead, and scooped the bikini up so I could go to leave it with the towel that was draped over the table beside the pool
“Do you come here often?” he finally engaged with me, and my heart fluttered because I had been aching for him to actually acknowledge me properly.
I didn't know if he meant the country or the pool, or if it was a question that he just misphrased slightly.
"Only when I want to get away from jealous she-wolves," I quipped, dryly, and I was rewarded with the faintest trace of a smile.
I should have guessed that it would take more than my looks to win over a man who had once enjoyed a life with the most beautiful women in the world at his beck and call. He had been tempted once, but I wasn't irresistible.
He was ignoring the erection that my display had given him rather than trying to hide it or rid himself of it, which meant that he was open to my advances this time - he wasn't ashamed, or determined not to act on the urges I was doing everything in my power to stir.
It cemented my decision: I wanted him, and I was going to have him.
I dipped my feet into the water, then slipped into the pool and swam over to the patch of sunlight in front of him.
I didn't turn to look at him: I rested my arms on the edge of the pool and closed my eyes, tipping my head back so my breasts were unmissable because he was interested enough in my piercings that he would definitely take the opportunity to take a closer look.
I waited, counting down the seconds in my head as his thoughts turned to a memory that was too personal for me to intrude on, before I spoke.
"I know that you're staring at me…"
I had probably not said it perfectly, but it was in Latin and it was enough to earn me a place in his headspace, even if I didn't win him over immediately.
"You're showing off," he responded.
I opened my eyes and smiled, tipping my head back further to make eye contact with him and confirm my suspicion.
He was mine.
- Writer
