The road bordered the Palatine where most of the wealthy Romans lived, so she wasn't that far off, but with so many people standing shoulder-to-shoulder, her progress was slow. She'd tarried too long staring at the vampire, and if she didn't make it to the meeting place -
Someone caught her wrist, and she turned.
The man's tunic was stained with food stains. "Come here, sweetheart," he slurred. His breath stank of cheap wine, but underneath the wine was the odor of meat. A butcher from the meat market, evidently. "You can help me celebrate."
She snarled at him. "Get your hands off me, old man."
His grip tightened. "Now, now, don't you be mighty." His insolent stare moved over her silver restraints and her leather collar. "You serve them cold leeches all the time. You want a real man. Huh?"
Fury coursed in her veins. He was a human freedman, only a butcher at that, but she couldn't kill him. Too many witnesses, and it would mean her life. She wanted to throw back her head and howl at the moon.
The human winked at her. His other hand tugged at his crotch with an alarming enthusiasm. "Come now, you ain't seen what I can do."
Her teeth ground together. Did he think she wanted to hear his empty boasts about his performance in the bedchamber? She was filthy with sweat, and she needed a bath. And the way the young Varro had looked at her... It would take her a long, long time to feel clean from that violation. And now this man was prattling on and on about what he wanted to do to her.
"I'll even treat you nice. Real nice, blood whore."
Her hearing abruptly sharpened. Now that was the crowning insult, one that topped off what had already been a trying day.
Lia snapped his wrist in a sudden move. The crowds swallowed his scream, and when his knees buckled, she angled her grip and crushed more bones. He was almost on the ground when she let him go.
"Don't call me a blood whore ever again," she said.
With a throaty laugh, she ran off.
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