Gladiator (Mirror, Mirror 6)

Tavoro Sands Resort: "A Feast for the Senses."

"The senses" must mean sore muscles from struggling with luggage. You'd think a place that advertised luxury would have someone to take your bags up to your room.

After years of international business trips, Salome Jones had learned how to travel light, but this time, her staff had packed for her and presented her with the suitcases, the airline tickets, and an ultimatum... "Go on a vacation, or we all quit." Who knew what they'd put in the bags? It all weighed a ton, and she'd had to drag it across the lobby and stuff it into the elevator on her own.

Said elevator continued its climb to the twenty-sixth floor. At least she'd have a good view of the ocean as she contemplated her navel. The gang had informed her, as well, that no business calls or e-mails would receive an answer. The company would putter along without her, and the rest of the staff would get something done for a change.

An insurrection. That's what it was. With a huge IPO for the latest social media site next week, European sunshine futures on the line, and a time bomb on the Yen about to go off, her people had pulled the rug out from under her. She'd note the insubordination in all their performance appraisals the minute she got back. She'd do it now if they hadn't taken her company cell phone away.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, but the elevator didn't climb any faster. Instead, she only got an image of herself in the mirrored walls. That, in itself, was pretty weird. With all the sides catching reflections of all the other sides, she seemed caught in a kaleidoscope of herself. An impatient, red-headed woman with the beginnings of wrinkles at a too-young age. A bit on the thin side but tall enough to intimidate most women and a lot of men. Still dressed in the business suit she'd put on probably twenty-four hours before.

The climb to twenty-six slowed -- slowed! -- and then came to a complete stop. She went to push the buttons, but somehow, they'd disappeared. They'd been there before, and now nothing.

"Hello," she shouted. "Can someone hear me?"

No answer. She was probably trapped between floors, but who could tell? She might as well be in a mirrored coffin.

"Hello!" She pounded her palms against the wall. "Help. I'm trapped."

Well, shit. Some vacation. She'd take this out of Jeanne's hide, and when she'd finished with her, she'd chew on Ted for a while. She'd kick Charlie into next Sunday. They worked for her, damn it. She never should have let them talk her into this fucking trip. "Hellooooooooo!"

One wall vanished -- whoosh -- showing the living room of a hotel suite. For a second, she jumped back at the shock, but she recovered quickly and reached out her hand to where the mirror had been. Her fingers met glass. There was still a barrier, just a transparent one. Maybe she could smash through it.

She bent to open one of her bags, searching for something to use as a battering ram. She didn't find anything more lethal than a shoe, but she grabbed that and straightened. She jumped and dropped it at the new sight in the glass.

The image had changed again... the same living room, but now, a man stood just on the other side, staring at her as if she'd surprised him as much as he had her.

Huge and muscular and dressed in the costume of a Roman gladiator. Not exactly that, maybe, but a "skirt" of leather panels exposed his calves, knees, and firm, firm thighs. For armor, he wore a breastplate engraved with some royal crest, but his arms were bare except for golden bracelets that circled his biceps. Those seemed as firm as his legs, and marred here and there with scars. He'd taken some hits with swords or spears, but that did little to diminish his beauty. Gorgeous. A splendid male specimen.

When she finally got around to looking at his face, she found that as wild and appealing as the rest of him. A piercing blue gaze stared back at her with as much interest as she had in him. He wanted her, and her crotch went damp with the knowledge. They had a connection that leaped through the glass barrier.

All the months of working twelve-hour days, seven days a week, took their effect. She hadn't had sex since when? Maybe December when she'd allowed a stranger to take her in the file room during the company holiday party. Mindless and faceless, and hardly satisfying. Sex with this man wouldn't be like that. Once fucked by an animal like him, and you'd stay fucked.

He seemed to sniff the air around him, like a huge cat, smelling his mate. Tawny, ragged hair nearly to his shoulders made him resemble a lion. He might start roaring any minute. If he did, she'd answer.

She leaned into the glass, pressing herself against it in surrender. Her breasts grew heavy and sensitive, and the nipples hardened into points. If she had to, she'd finger herself while she watched him. Maybe, he'd get the idea and pull out his cock so at least they could masturbate together. He had to have a big one. If there was any justice in the world, she'd at least get to watch it, even if she couldn't have it inside her.

Somehow, he reached for her. The glass seemed to melt around his fingers as his hands went through. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back into the suite with him. The passage should have hurt, or at least, she should have felt something. Instead, she made an effortless transition from what had been an elevator and then a sort of cell.

Now fully in the room, she went directly into his embrace. Not that she'd had any choice in the matter as he tugged her roughly against him.

"Female," he growled...