Free Sovereign's Gladiator by Jez Morrow

bald twins, Milus and Silas, and the broad young woman, Rodriga. They all snapped to attention before their Sovereign.
    Devon waved them down. “Carry on.”
    Rodriga was standing beside a secret entrance. It had been well camouflaged, blending in perfectly with the rest of the wall.
    The secret door could be barred from the inside. Its heavy crosspiece looked like part of the room’s decorative molding.
    The other side of the secret door had no crossbar. Devon could lock people out. He could not be locked in. No harm in that.
    The secret door led out to a narrow rock stair that spiraled down in perfect darkness to a secret exit on the rear side of the citadel.
    Such a passage was good for smuggling in illicit lovers. It was no use to Devon.
    Though he supposed a second exit was a good thing to have. “Just make sure this is barred fast from the inside tonight.”
    “ Ma dahn ,” Rodriga acknowledged with a brisk nod.
    Devon’s guards had also found the spyholes. Milus and Silas had patched them. There were a lot of them.
    “Kani’s men told us the peepholes are for the slaves. So they can look in on you and see if you need anything without disturbing you by asking.”
    Devon had noticed that Kani regarded his slaves as animals and didn’t concern himself with privacy from their eyes.
    Devon wanted the spyholes masked off.
    “We got all of ‘em, ma dahn ,” Rodriga said.
    Devon lifted a ringed forefinger toward the ceiling. “Did you look up?”
    Rodriga swore and hastily left the chamber.
    There was no lock at all on the entrance door from the landing.
    “I can install a bar, ma dahn ,” Xan offered.
    “Not necessary,” said Devon.
    There were guard stations at the base of both sets of stairs. An intruder would need to use a grappling hook to climb up here from the big hall below without passing the guard stations. And they would be noticed if they tried.
    Rodriga’s thumping footsteps sounded on the ceiling, and, in a moment, her voice sounded from above, a little too clearly, “Silas, you sunburned the top of your head.”
    Devon nodded up to the hole above Silas’ head. “Cover that.”
    Silas looked up to the fingers—Rodriga’s—wiggling through the spyhole. Silas dragged a heavy chest across the floor to stand on while he nailed a metal plate over the hole.
    Rodriga came back down, and the triad finished securing the room.
    Xan had a fire going in the hearth.
    “Thank you,” Devon said and dismissed them.
    He was alone in the chamber.
    His door opened again.
    Xan had returned. Devon regarded him for a fearful moment that extended as if time itself had stopped.
    Xan’s overwhelming masculinity filled the chamber.
    “I will call you if I need you,” Devon said and turned his back.
    His fear was realized.
    Xan’s hand closed on the back of his neck, as one might collar a child, but not like a child at all. Devon felt the intent in Xan’s hand. Desire flowed through his palm in a strong current, powerful sexuality in it. Devon smelled male passion.
    And Devon’s pulse leapt. A tingle prickled under his jaw. A singing filled his head. He tasted the sourness of fear. Elation burned in his blood. Expectation fluttered in his middle. His balls clenched like fists with his cock’s rising.
    This could not be happening. This was an assault on the Sovereign. Xan wouldn’t dare.
    He dared.

Chapter Five

    Oh gods.
    Does the racehorse tremble so when he submits control of his power to another? Does he trust his rider to drive him where he wants to go—because go he must.
    Devon did not command Xan to stop. He feared Xan would not obey. Then Devon, the Sovereign, would need to kill him.
    And right at this moment, Devon would rather die than tell Xan to stop. It was only what Devon wanted.
    Xan’s palm glided slowly down Devon’s arm, warm. Xan’s touch made Devon shudder in fear and need. Xan traced Devon’s hard muscles and elegant bones. It was the lightest of gestures, yet so personal, so