I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 441: Small talk with Fulvia

“We really shouldn’t be doing this…” Nathan murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft rustle of sheets.

He lay sprawled on the silken bedding of Fluvia’s private chamber, the morning light slipping through the half-drawn curtains and casting a golden hue over their tangled limbs. Her room, hidden deep within the lavish Roman Senate castle, was a place of regal opulence—thick velvet drapes, marble statues of gods long since fallen from favor, and oil lamps that still faintly burned with the fragrance of sandalwood.

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst possible location for keeping a secret affair. And yet, for the past several days, Nathan had risked everything to sneak into this very room—again and again. Not for politics. Not for schemes. Simply for her.

And for the sex. Passionate, desperate, loud sex.

So loud, in fact, that whispers and gossip had already begun to worm their way through the stone corridors of the Senate castle. The noblemen and servants alike murmured about Fluvia, daughter of the powerful Fulvii family, having taken a secret lover. But no one knew who. No one could confirm the identity of the mystery man. None dared enter her room to check, let alone accuse her directly.

And Nathan made sure of that. He never used the door.

Instead, like a phantom, he slipped in and out of the window under the cloak of night or the haze of early dawn, his movements swift and silent, vanishing before suspicion had a chance to bloom.

Still, the danger was real.

And perhaps… that was part of the thrill.

Resting her head on his bare chest, Fluvia trailed her fingers lazily along the lines of muscle beneath her palm, a satisfied smile playing at her lips.

“Stop what exactly?” she asked coyly, her gaze lifting to meet his.

Her cheeks were still flushed, a radiant pink that hadn’t faded since their last heated session—one that had happened just moments ago, despite the fact they’d already exhausted themselves the night before. It was Fluvia who had pulled him into her again the moment they awoke, eyes full of hunger and need.

Not a hunger for mere sex—no.It was Nathan she craved.

His presence. His warmth. His touch. With him, the world felt full. Fun. Alive. And she, so often dulled by privilege and politics, was finally awake.

Nathan reached up, his fingers sliding through her tousled chestnut hair. “Having sex here. In this castle. In this room,” he said, exhaling slowly. “It’s reckless.”

Fluvia tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Afraid someone will find out? That Caesar might start asking questions?” she said, voice teasing yet edged with concern. “You’re worried you’ll lose his trust?”

Nathan nodded. “Exactly. As much as I enjoy defiling his favorite place with you,” he added with a crooked smile, “I’d rather not get caught by one of his spies slipping out of your window half-naked.”

Fluvia scoffed, resting her chin on his chest now, her dark lashes fluttering. “They wouldn’t dare enter my chambers. My father is Fulvius. No one in their right mind would risk angering one of the most powerful men in Rome by snooping around his daughter’s private quarters.”

“That’s the problem,” Nathan said, eyes narrowing. “This isn’t your father’s house. It’s Caesar’s. He owns every brick, every corridor, and every shadow in this place. Sooner or later, he’s bound to notice something.”

She waved his concern away with a laugh that was both light and infuriatingly confident. “He hasn’t noticed a thing these past days, has he?”

“That’s because he’s too busy obsessing over the tournament,” Nathan muttered, leaning back against the pillows.

“Ugh. Boring,” Fluvia said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Nathan blinked at her, clearly taken aback. “You? Bored of bloodsport? I thought this sort of violence was your idea of fun. Didn’t you once say that only chaos could entertain a soul like yours?”

“I was

interested,” she admitted, propping herself up on her elbows, “but this time? It’s dull. The fighters are predictable. The bloodshed, routine. None of them excite me.”

She leaned closer now, brushing her lips just beneath his jawline. “But… if you were to enter that tournament, Nathan? I might just change my mind.”

She kissed him softly, slowly, seductively.

He returned the kiss, lingering for a moment before pulling away and shaking his head.

“I’m not stepping foot into that arena,” he said firmly.

She blinked, surprised by his seriousness.

He made a promise to Khione and Aphrodite. He swore he wouldn’t get involved in anything tied to Pandora and stay far away from her.

After all, everyone in Rome knew the prize for winning the tournament: the mysterious and enchanting Pandora. A woman who had become the object of obsession for too many, locked behind layers of myth, magic, and politics.

“I heard the famous Pandora is the prize,” Fluvia said softly, her voice tinged with curiosity as she rested her head against Nathan’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s worth sneaking a look.”

Nathan turned his head to glance at her. “The same Pandora who nearly wiped out humanity?” he said, his tone layered with disbelief and dry cynicism. “And now men from every corner of the world gather like starved wolves to fight for the chance to win her? It’s absurd.”

Fluvia shrugged, her bare fingers tracing idle circles on his chest. “She was created to be perfect, Septimius. A divine being sculpted to tempt, to awe, to embody desire. Of course everyone wants her. Men… always chase what they can’t control. What happened thousands of years ago? It’s history. Dust.”

Nathan scoffed. “If she were truly that perfect,” he said, his voice growing colder, “then the gods wouldn’t be so desperate to get rid of her.”

Fluvia chuckled, not refuting it. “That… could be true,” she admitted, her lips curling into a smile that held just a trace of bitterness.

For a moment, silence fell over the room. The soft crackle of the oil lamp and the distant murmur of servants passing through the halls were the only reminders that the world still moved outside these walls.

Then, Fluvia broke the quiet once more—her voice quieter this time, shaded with something else. “After you’ve done everything you came here to do in Rome… you’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

Nathan didn’t flinch. “Yes,” he replied simply. No lies. No sugar-coating.

It was the truth.

Rome was never meant to be his home. He was a visitor, a shadow slipping through its golden colonnades. He had goals—dangerous ones—and none of them involved staying beneath the thumb of the Roman Senate.

He could feel Fluvia’s breath hitch slightly against him. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t begging. But the melancholy in her eyes said everything. She knew. And yet… she also knew she wouldn’t follow him.

Rome was her life. Her duty. Her name.

As the sole heiress of the ancient Fulvii line, her destiny was carved into the marble of the Senate walls. She would stay here—marble and blood bound her to this city.

“You don’t have to be with me every day to be mine,” Nathan said after a beat, his voice gentler now.

Fluvia blinked, raising her head.

“I’ve got women I care about in far places,” Nathan continued. “Kassandra, for one, stays in Troy—her birthplace. She belongs there, and I never asked her to leave it. Same for Khillea. She’s a queen, with a kingdom to run. But I still visit. I always will.”

His gaze locked onto hers, steady and unwavering. “It’ll be the same with you.”

He wasn’t saying it as a vague promise. He meant it. The moment Caesar fell, and Rome could be reshaped into something new, Nathan would return—not as a rogue, but perhaps as an ally. Or a liberator.

He would have reasons to come back. Fulvia was one of them.

But Fulvia frowned slightly, her lips forming a soft pout as she tilted her head. “You’re definitely far from Rome,” she muttered.

Nathan smiled faintly. He knew what she meant. She still didn’t believe he was truly from Alexandria—or wherever else he hinted. To her, he might as well have been from another continent. Another world. And in her mind, the journey was a long one. A sea voyage that would take weeks.

“Far?” Nathan smirked, his silver eyes glinting mischievously. “I’ve got a dragon. The trip won’t take long at all.”

Fluvia rolled her eyes before punching him lightly on the chest. “Stop lying, Septimius.”

Her tone was playful, but tinged with disbelief. Dragons were myths to her. Beautiful lies told by drunk bards and madmen.

Little did she know… Nathan wasn’t lying.

He let the moment linger before sitting up slightly, his expression turning more serious. “By the way, Fulvia,” he said, reaching for something beneath the bed.

“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

From the folds of his cloak, Nathan pulled out a slender, obsidian-hilted dagger. It gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, and a deep red aura pulsed faintly around its blade like a heartbeat. The light of the dagger danced ominously across the walls, casting long, eerie shadows.

Fluvia’s brow furrowed. “A knife? What are you—?”

“I need you to give this to someone,” Nathan said calmly, his thumb brushing the blade.

“To who?”

“Julia,” he answered, his tone steady.

Fluvia blinked in surprise. “Julia? As in… Caesar’s daughter?”

Nathan nodded once. “Exactly.”