Page 37 of Thawed Gladiator: Varro

“You were behind me, doing heavenly things to my body, and then… poof, you were gone. You started talking like you were reading from a script, like Varro left his body and an automaton took his place.”

As I recall exactly what happened between us, I realize much of it is hazy, as though I’m watching it underwater. A chill races down my spine when I realize the feeling, though I’ve never identified it before, is familiar—very familiar.

“I imagine it was a skill you developed to cope with your trauma.” Laura’s voice is soft, her eyes boring into mine.

The word “trauma” hits me like a punch to the gut. Anger flares, hot and sudden. I point to the biggest slash across my chest and say, “This is trauma, Laura.” Jabbing at the cut on my left biceps, I say, “And this.” I slap my right thigh, my voice rising. “And under here, the deep gash you see was trauma. But not sex. Sex isn’t trauma. Sex is pleasure.”

I lean in close, sneering, wanting her to see my contempt for her ridiculous statement. But Laura doesn’t flinch. Instead, she cups my cheek with her palm, her touch achingly gentle.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, Varro.” Her voice is steady despite the tears in her eyes. “I understand you’re trying to convince yourself that the abuse you suffered didn’t touch you, didn’t hurt you. So I’ll shut up about it. But you might want to think about why you asked me to hurt you and why you called meFloswhen I’m yourDulcis, which, by the way, I love it when you call me that.” She opens her mouth, clearly wanting to say more, then clamps her lips shut and shakes her head with such sadness it knots my stomach. “Let’s go back to the compound.”

I should have known that a hulking gladiator leaning inches from her face and sneering at her with his most deadly face wouldn’t shut her up. Nor does she stoop to my level and argue.

Instead, she walks calmly to Jenny and waits for me, then calls, “You coming? It’s almost full dark.”

I have no objection to getting in the vehicle with her. It’s just that my body has quit responding to my commands. I’m frozen. Ha. Frozen here on land after two millennia of being frozen underwater. The Gods have a terrible sense of humor.

Eventually, I force my feet to move and climb into the passenger seat, but I can’t feel my body. Through the numbness, I wonder if Laura could be right.

I always knew I didn’t like what Gracchus did, but other than a few times, I never bled. Decimus was kind; he protected me. For many of the others, it was an exchange, a transaction. I did what they wanted; they gave me money that was intended to buy my freedom.

“It wasn’t trauma,” I say as we near the compound, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Laura replies, but her tone betrays her disbelief. “Either way, I don’t think we should… be sexual.”

My head jerks back in surprise. My memory may be hazy about the details of our earlier encounters, but I certainly recall how wet she was, how excited, how willing.

“We’re the only two people on this island. We’re compatible. Why would you refuse what you so obviously enjoyed only moments ago?”

Laura’s gaze meets mine, filled with a sadness that feels like a chain tightening around my heart. “Becauseyoudidn’t enjoy it, Varro. You disappeared in order to tolerate being with me. It was soul-crushing, and it will be just as devastating if you do it again. I’d prefer toneverexperience that in the future.”

Her words hit me like a blow, leaving me breathless. I struggle to find a response, but come up empty.

“Varro, I like you. A lot.” Her voice has softened. “I just refuse to be the reason you fly off in your mind. I refuse to be the one who triggers terrible memories. I want to be your friend. Let’s have dinner. You worked hard today and must be starving. We’ll put this behind us.”

I’m left reeling, my mind a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and an ache I can’t quite name. Laura’s words have cracked something open inside me, exposing a raw, tender place I didn’t know existed. And as much as I want to deny it, to rage against her accusations, a small part of me whispers that maybe she’s right.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Laura

It’s close to dawn, but I didn’t get much sleep last night. In addition to the interruptions from Varro’s whimpering nightmares, I tossed and turned, my mind whirling, trying to think my way out of this predicament. Those were the best kisses of my life. The softest touch of his fingers left sparks in its wake. I wasthrobbingfor him. How do you put that behind you?

It’s not like we’re high schoolers who broke up and have to see each other the next day—though that would be bad enough. We’re the only people on this island! And we’re going to be here alone together forever!

Forever. Dear God. Every time I think I’ve accepted my fate, that I can live through this, that I’m strong and can handle eating nothing but fish and rabbits for the rest of my life, I hit a new awareness, which brings about a new emotional low.

Dragging my thoughts from my terrible future, I return to replaying last night’s events. I’m such a bitch. Even though my little tent is barely big enough for two beds, after dinner I made a show of separating them. As though the five inches between our mattresses was a declaration of war.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s almost pitch black in here, but I’m on my side, looking over at the mound of gladiator under his sleeping bag. And even though we had our first fight only a few hours ago—well, if you don’t count him trying to choke me the moment we met—my thoughts aren’t angry at all. Just the contrary. I think if he were to turn toward me and beckon me into his bed, I wouldn’t hesitate to join him.

I’m smitten. In the past, I’ve had two types of boyfriends: men who appealed to my mind and left my hormones on idle, or men who set my synapses on fire but didn’t interest me on any other level. Marcus Fabius Varro leaves them all in the dust because he turns on my brainandmy body. Too bad he has so much baggage that he can’t stay present with me for more than a few incendiary kisses.

As soon as the sun comes up, I’ll go into the common room and pack. We’ll move everything we need and sleep in the cottage tonight. Until yesterday afternoon, I’d pictured just how I wanted to arrange things in the little one-room space.

We’d put the waterproof food bins near the hearth where we’ll cook, set the camp chairs facing the hearth, since watching the fire like cavemen will be our only evening entertainment, and the beds would be along the far wall. They’d be tucked together, giving us space for our bodies to entwine.

Now, my plan takes a giant U-turn. We’ll be on opposite sides of the room, like warring teams on theFamily Feud.

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