Commodus did not remember her. Before him was a crowd of clumsy girls who had not yet shed a drop of blood. Each was so awkward, each huddled before the gaze of Vestalis Maxima, a woman whose femininity was a ripe apple among the little apple blossoms. A pitiful sight.

But he had certainly seen her. Commodus had pronounced his own sentence with his mouth as he drew out the colt bearing her name and afterwards led the girl into the atrium of Vesta's temple. Now those words gave away the bitterness on the tip of his tongue.

'I take you, amata (beloved), to be a Vestal priestess, who will carry out sacred rites which it is the law for a Vestal priestess to perform on behalf of the Roman people, on the same terms as her who was a Vestal 'on the best terms'' he repeated in a whisper, watching from the shadows the two figures by the fire who were talking quietly to each other. One female figure was passing intricate instruments to the other, instructing.

Commodus comes here again and again, to the temple of Vesta, where six pure women rule. But is this reprehensible? After all, he is Pontifex maximus and is entitled to it. He is the one who, in a couple of years, is to be their father and marry them off. Pass her on to another man. That thought alone added fuel to his sinful fire that would destroy every man in Rome. No, that's not going to happen.

His little Vestal, that had become a sun-poured, feminine fruit. He didn't really see her until a year ago. The cause of all his mental anguish. Commodus kept his gaze on her as her turn to guard the fire finally ended, and now the sacred flames illuminated her silhouette as she approached the shadows. He felt like a starving predator that he just couldn't refuse to sink his teeth into this pure sacrificial lamb.

'Vestal,' Commodus called out, stepping out of the shadows behind her back. 'Do not be frightened, little Vestal, it is only me, Pontifex maximus.'

He knew the temple was about to be closed to men, but he couldn't resist waiting for her shift at the fire to end. Today, his desire to exchange even a few glances with her was unbearable.

'I just wanted to make sure everything was ready for the Vestalia celebration. On the rights of Pontifex maximus, of course.'

Commodus remained behind her back, only a step away. But even that was enough for him to be embraced by the scent of wood and herbs that mingled with her unique fragrance. He barely held back a groan as he felt that invisible hug, barely refrained from touching the fire-warmed skin. Commodus admired the curve of her neck, the graceful shoulder that begged for his touch.

He mustn't. He could wait. Just a couple of years and she would be free of her vows. Will she be? Many 'freed' become superstitious idiots for continuing to keep their virginity and asking to go back to the temple. Commodus felt an almost physical pain every time he thought about it. Yet he was not allowed to violate her purity.

As long as the Vestal women's bodies were pure, as long as the walls of Rome remained untouched.

'Are all the liquids ready for the rituals?' He bowed his head, watching her breasts rise measuredly. Poor thing, completely unaware of the sinful flame within him. 'Is Vestalis Maxima being too hard on you? You can open yourself to me.'

Commodus couldn't lean on that. Just one touch, just to take away the heat that was weighing him down. He ran his fingers lightly over her exposed shoulder, an almost weightless touch.