"It cost her her life," was the cold reply. "She put herself into the keeping of Romans, and in the end it destroyed her! I will not be destroyed by you-or any other Roman!"

"I cannot destroy you, Zenobia-only your own bitterness can do that," was his reply. "You will be my mistress because I make that decision, and not you." He reached out for her, but Zenobia drew back.

"And now," she said angrily, "now you will once again rape me to prove the truth of your words."

"I have not once raped you, goddess. Each time I have made love to you, you have wanted me to do so. The only one you have been fighting is yourself!"

"I despise you," she whispered half fearfully. "I hate you! How can I want your lovemaking when I detest you so?"

"Lust, Zenobia. Did I not tell you that first night? You may not want me, but your beautiful body does. You are a woman; you have known a man's love and you have known a man's passion. Neither of these things have frightened you. Why then should a man's honest lust cause such a turmoil within you, goddess?"

"It is wrong," she said firmly. "Lovemaking without affection or caring is wrong."

"Who has told you these things, goddess? You are young yet, and certainly your small experience with but two men cannot qualify you to make such a judgment."

He reached out for her again, and this time his arm slid about her waist and drew her resisting body close to his. "I have never experienced love, and yet I enjoy lying with a beautiful and passionate woman. None have ever complained to me before, goddess. This foolishness is but in your mind. If you would simply enjoy the feelings I can engender within your body, you would see that I am right."

"You are a wicked man," she said softly. "I will not allow you to destroy me."

"I will not destroy you, goddess," he murmured, and his breath was warm against her ear, the little puffs of his words causing her to shiver slightly. "Let me love you, Zenobia. Don't fight me." A hand began a slow, gentle caressing of her breasts. "Ah, goddess, my beautiful goddess," Aurelian whispered, his lips moving against her soft, fragrant hair.

Zenobia felt his hands and his lips tenderly questing. She heard the restrained passion in his voice, and her soul seemed to draw back deep within her where she might watch him in safety. She was, despite her long nap, still so very weary, and she had no strength left to fight him. Opening the delicate silver filigree fastenings of her sleeping robe, he pushed it back and off her shoulders. He was being very careful, very gentle. For several long moments he simply sat and stared at her firm golden breasts as they rose and fell with her breathing.

Then he tenderly pressed her back among her pillows, and began to place delicate kisses upon her chest and breasts. His lips touched lightly, quickly, moving here and there, never lingering very long in one place. "I am a soldier, goddess," he said low. "A rough soldier, and I have never had the time to make proper love to a beautiful woman; but here in your perfumed palace I shall linger, and adore you until it is time for us to depart for Rome." Then his lips returned to her flesh, this time moving slowly and sensuously, coaxing alive within her tiny flames of pure desire.

She did not fight him-whether from simple exhaustion or because she was admitting her surrender to Rome even Zenobia did not know. What she did know was that his lips, his hands, his seductive words all combined to vanquish her. She had lost Palmyra to him, and whatever she said, or did, he would take her body, for, as he had said, he was the victor. Perhaps by yielding she might regain some measure of control over the situation. Briefly she thought of Deliciae. Was this what it had been like for her in the days before Odenathus had given her in marriage to Rufus Curius? Forced to barter her body in order to survive. How scornful Zenobia had been; but then she had not known. Still, she had sworn to herself that she would survive; and if to survive she must use her body, then by the gods she would do so!

Zenobia focused her silvery eyes upon Aurelian, and said simply, "Love me."

Startled, he looked up at her, and when she repeated those two words he groaned like a starving man being offered a fine feast. She would have sworn that his hands trembled as he bared her completely. Gazing at her passionately, he ran his hands over her silken skin, moving upward to cup her large breasts, then sliding down across her thighs; his fingers hesitant at first, then surer, probing tenderly between the plump lips of her Venus mount. She wasn't really quite prepared when his blond head dipped quickly and his tongue touched the tiny secret, sensitive flower of her womanhood. She gasped, but then his fingers were gently spreading her nether lips, and his tongue was caressing her expertly, forcing the liquid fire to flow, and she realized she didn't care. There would be no escape from this man, and so, uncaring, Zenobia allowed herself to be swept up in the whirlwind of pleasurable sensations that Aurelian aroused within her body.

He was a lover of incredible stamina, and having suffered these last nights from his brutality, she was quite surprised that he was capable of such sensitivity and gentleness. His hungry mouth was beginning to wreak havoc with her senses as he sucked sensuously upon that tiny morsel of tender flesh, yet she was unready when the first starburst exploded within her, and she cried out still fearful of the feelings that this man could arouse within her.

Aurelian understood, and pulling himself back level with her, he smoothed the tangled hair from her forehead and placed a kiss upon it. "You are so beautiful in your passion," he said softly.

"Hold me," she whispered in a shaking voice and, turning, clung to him, her whole frame trembling.

He was instantly protective of her, enfolding her within his strong arms. "Here," he said quietly, "within the privacy of your chamber, I am with you as I have never been with any woman. I know that I stir your senses, goddess, but do you know how much you stir mine? It is with me as it has never been before. I do not think that I shall ever get enough of you!" His voice was thick with his emotion, and she felt his staff, hard and eager against her thigh, yet he made no move to force her this time.

Suddenly Zenobia realized that if Cleopatra's Roman lovers had destroyed her, it was surely because her ancestress had loved and trusted them. I will never love or trust this man, she thought, but if I can please him, and obviously I can, then perhaps I shall yet save my son's inheritance. She shifted her body so she might see his stern face, and freeing her hands from her sides, she reached up, drew his head down, and kissed him sweetly, her soft lips moving against his almost shyly. "You are right, Roman," she said low. "Lust is a powerful thing, and not altogether unpleasant. Would you be very much shocked if I said I wanted you?"

Looking down upon her, his blue eyes searched her face for signs of mockery, but finding none he said, "No, I should not be shocked, goddess."

"Love me," she answered him, her lush body beginning to move provocatively beneath his.

Aurelian needed no further encouragement, for his manhood felt close to bursting with his desire. Feeling her long legs parting to encourage him, he pushed his aching weapon deep within her warm, wonderfully willing body, a groan of pleasure escaping his tightly clamped lips. The long and lovely legs wrapped themselves about him, and he had the fleeting thought that she was really the goddess Venus herself, come to earth to give sweet pleasure to him. Her hands ran smoothly down his back, then caressed his taut buttocks; her touch was more exciting than anything he had ever known. She was making love to him!

Zenobia quickly realized the effect that her boldness was having upon Aurelian. It roused him more than anything she could have done, and his excitement communicated itself to her. Together they fanned the flames of their desire, their bodies writhing passionately, both seemingly inexhaustible as he drove again, and again, and again into the lush and lovely woman panting beneath him. Her movements encouraged him onward. Never had he felt so strong, so manly, so immortal as within the throbbing sheath of this magnificent creature.

Then suddenly Zenobia cried out, "Ah, sweet Venus, I die!" and Aurelian, with a low growl of triumph, waited but a moment to assure himself that she had attained Olympus before releasing his own boiling offering to the goddess of love. He was shaken to the core of his being, and he could see that Palmyra's queen lay in a deep swoon, her beautiful body covered in a faint silvery sheen of dampness that highlighted the pale-golden color of her skin. He would have believed her dead but for the pulse that fluttered in a tiny, provocative hollow at the base of her throat.

She soared upward, floating free and happy, seeing below her the mountainous home of the gods; and then as suddenly she plunged downward into a whirling, light-filled abyss that battered both her body and her soul. Something was wrong, but she could not understand what it was. With a low moan she tried to escape the sinking feeling. Slowly, almost painfully, she fought her way back to consciousness, her first realization of returning feeling being the firm kisses being placed upon her lips. Zenobia opened her eyes, and Aurelian smiled down at her before his lips took charge of hers once again.

His mouth demanded and she acquiesced, kissing him back with equal fervor, opening her mouth to receive his questing tongue. The tongue touched the sensitive roof of her mouth, and she shivered. It rubbed against her tongue in a sensual gesture, then sucked, attempting to draw her very spirit from between her lips. She eluded him, and attempted to imitate his actions. She was pleased when he shuddered against her, and then he drew away from her. "Goddess, you will destroy me yet," he murmured against her ear, and for the first time in months Zenobia felt genuine amusement bubbling up within her. Her laughter sounded warm and mischievous in his ear, and he was forced to chuckle himself.