Page 28 of Thawed Gladiator Thrax

The words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, I’m struck speechless. This beautiful, intelligent woman wants to court me? It seems impossible, yet the hopeful look in her eyes tells me she’s sincere. I’m truly dense, since it seems this was what she’s been leading up to for the whole conversation.

“I… I would behonored,” I manage to stammer out, my heart racing, pounding so hard I glance down to see if the movement can be seen through my shirt.

Relief floods her face, followed quickly by excitement. “Great! I’ve actually got it all planned out. I know you can’t leave the facility, so we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got here, but I promise it’ll be special. At least I hope so.”

As she launches into details about our upcoming date, I find myself swept up in her enthusiasm. This is clearly important to her, which makes it important to me. I vow silently to do everything in my power to make this experience perfect for her.

The rest of the day passes more quickly than usual. I pace my room, my mind racing with thoughts of what to expect. Should I bring a gift? No! The last time I tried that it resulted in feeling as though she ripped my heart from my chest.

What should I wear? In Rome, I never had to worry about such things. My life was simple—train, fight, survive. But this… this is an entirely new arena, one where I feel sorely unprepared.

I decide to ask for help. Laura’s assistant, Aline, is a friendly young woman who’s always been kind to me. Now that Skye’s given me a phone of my own, which is securely fastened to my new belt, I can speak through the translation device. Alineseems to understand my predicament and suggests I wear something nice but comfortable, and that flowers might be a thoughtful gesture.

With her approval, I go to the atrium to pick a small bunch of flowers. The colors and scents remind me of the fancy flowers in the homes of the patricians who used me, but I cast that thought aside. I choose a mix of white blooms and deep purple flowers that I think Skye will like, although they remind me of the times I saw the imperial color from the sands of the arena.

In the center of the atrium, there’s a small pedestal with a basin of water in it. Skye calls it a birdbath. I extract three of the most beautiful blooms from the bouquet, casting them one by one into the water as I whisper a prayer.

“For Cupid. So she sees my affection is true.”

“For Venus. So that Skye knows how truly beautiful she is.”

“For Amor. So that I might find… love one day.”

Back in my room, I change into the nicest clothes I have—a soft blue shirt and dark pants that Skye once said looked good on me. As the appointed time draws near, my palms grow sweaty and the stems of the flowers stick in my grip. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I disappoint her?

A soft knock at the door sends my heart racing even faster. Taking a deep breath, I open it to find Skye standing there, as lovely as Venus, in a flowing dress the color of the summer sky—my favorite. She’s styled her hair differently. The soft curls that usually frame her face have been pulled back by little pieces of jewelry. The style makes her eyes even prettier. The hint of color on her lips draws my gaze.

Remembering what Aline told me, I bow slightly, offering her the flowers. “For you,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “Your beauty puts these blooms to shame, but I hope they please you.”

Skye’s eyes widen, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she takes the bouquet. “Oh, Thrax,” she breathes, her gaze shining with appreciation. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

As she brings the flowers to her nose, inhaling their sweet scent, I allow myself a moment of pride. Perhaps I’m not entirely out of my depth in this new world after all.

I stand stiffly, waiting for the date to begin. She’s kept our activity a secret, but for some reason, I assume it will happen in the atrium.

She surprises me when she sets the flowers on the bed, grabs my hand, and pulls me out of my room as she urges, “Come with me.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Skye

I’ve never been good with people, so when the pandemic hit, I was thrilled to work from home. My shyness, my anxiety, and my word vomit, to name a few of my odd traits, aren’t so obvious when people only see me via work teleconferencing.

I thought I was over all that with Thrax, but as I pull him down the hallway, his large hand warm in mine, I feel trembly inside. Although I’ve been planning this surprise for days, now I’m worried that it won’t play out the way I’d hoped.

“Where are we going?” Thrax asks, his deep voice tinged with curiosity.

I push my worries away and flash him a cocky grin over my shoulder. “You’ll see.”

We stop in front of the vacant hospital room next door to his. Thrax’s eyebrows shoot up as I usher him inside.

“I don’t understand,” he says, his eyes scanning the room that contains nothing but the standard-issue bed and nightstand.

“We’re here for this,” I explain, moving toward the hospital bed. “Help me unlock the wheels?”

Thrax complies. His strong hands easily maneuver the bed as we release the wheel locks. Together, we roll it into the hallway and toward his room. I can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all—two grown adults sneaking around, pushing a hospital bed like mischievous kids.

“Skye,” Thrax says, his voice is half scold, half excitement. “What exactly are we doing?”

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