Page 44 of Thawed Gladiator Thrax

I should stay awake so I don’t miss a word of this. I really should, but I melt against his huge, warm frame and let my mind wander to a future so wonderful I never dared dream of it before.

Surely, I must have only dozed a moment, but this amazing, gargantuan man is still singing my praises when I awake. I guess we have two choices—make love, or… do something, anything, else.

“I’m going to make you feel so good tonight.” He lifts an eyebrow so fraught with sexual innuendo I’d be able to read it even if I were blind. “I’m going to lick you and taste you and make you scream my name so loud you’ll embarrass yourself and me and everyone in the hospital.” He laughs from his belly so deeply it almost jiggles me off the bed.

“But now that I can understand the words better, I want to watch yourFirefly.” He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest.

“I’d like that. But… can we stay here a little longer? I’m not ready to leave your arms.”

My request makes him hum with pleasure, something I can imagine us doing often in the future.

Later, we make a quick munchie run, I set up the TV, and we laze away the rest of the day. Even though I have so much to refine in my translation program, it works adequately. I can take one damn day off and lie here with my lover. We kiss and tease each other to distraction. I feed him grapes, which I’ve always dreamed of doing… with the right man.

I make him sit up so I can reapply the meds Elodie gave him and cover his back with new bandages. Thrax makes a production of rearranging us between episodes three and four, his mouth filled with strawberries as he insists, “I’m loving it, Skye. We have to watch at least one more.”

For a moment, I wonder if he’s manhandling me, moving me around, to get me in position for lovemaking. But he’s not. He said he just wanted my company and is too honorable not to stick to his promise.

Then I see what all the machinations were about. We’re in the perfect position for him to rub my feet. This turns out to be not just any foot rub, but the world’s best. First of all, it’s the world’s best because it’s Thrax who is touching me with so much tenderness. But second, just like when we’re making love, he pays so much attention, as though he’s fine-tuning all his senses, to make certain he knows exactly what I like, where I like it, and how hard to press.

“Heaven.” I order my eyes to open. One nap a day is plenty. Besides, I want to be wide awake and raring to go when he tires ofFirefly’sCaptain Malcolm Reynolds and wants to turn all his attention to me.

*Direct translation: You taught me I had a heart and now you own it.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Thrax

The weight of Skye’s sleeping form against my chest should be comforting, but tonight, even her gentle presence can’t keep the darkness at bay. As I drift into an uneasy sleep, the present fades away, and I’m thrust back into a memory I’ve long tried to forget.

I’m huddled in a dark corner of theludus, my body aching from the day’s brutal training. Voices drift from the courtyard—mylanistaand theludusmaster, their tones hushed but clear in the still night air.

“…can’t believe he’s survived this long,” thelanistasays, a note of disgust in his voice. “Every time I put him in a difficult match, I expect it to be his last.”

Theludusmaster chuckles, the sound devoid of warmth. “He’s like a cockroach, that one. Impossible to kill.”

“It’s getting harder to find easy opponents for him,” the lanistacontinues. “Soon, he’ll be facing more experienced gladiators. Then we’ll see how long he lasts.”

“Why bother? He’s worth more alive in Britannia. That’s why I’m putting him on theFortuna.”

Their words cut deeper than any blade I’ve faced in the arena. I curl into myself, trying to block out their cruel assessment of my worth—or lack of it.

“It’s good he’s a slave,” theludusmaster muses. “Can you imagine that face as a free man? He’d never be able to find a wife, no matter how much power or gold he has.”

Thelanistalaughs, a harsh, grating sound. “The man I bought him from said he was a foundling, left to die in the forest. Too bad he didn’t meet his end as a babe and save us all the trouble.”

Their laughter echoes in the night, each cruel word chipping away at what little self-worth I’ve managed to hold onto. I close my eyes, silently pleading for Goddess Fortuna to appear, to offer some small comfort or sign that I’m not as worthless as they claim. But the goddess remains silent, absent when I need her most.

I jolt awake, heart pounding, sweat beading on my brow. Skye stirs beside me, mumbling softly in her sleep. For a moment, I tighten my arm around her, clinging to the warmth and comfort she represents. But then doubt creeps in, toxic, poisonous.

Everyone here in present day talks about my worth, about how valuable I am. But it’s not because of who I am inside. It’s because of what I represent—a scientific oddity, a potential goldmine of historical knowledge. They say I’ll be famous when word gets out. But famous for what? For being a freak of nature? A man out of time?

And Skye… sweet, brilliant Skye. What does she really see in me? Is this all just part of her job? Am I nothing more than an interesting project to her? The cruel words of mylanistaandludusmaster echo in my mind, reminding me of my ugliness, stupidity, and worthlessness.

My breathing becomes ragged, panic clawing at my chest. I’m sweating, trembling, feeling completely and utterly useless. What place could I possibly have in this world? What could I offer someone like Skye?

My distress must wake her because suddenly she’s there, her hands cupping my face, her voice soft and soothing. “Thrax? Thrax, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Her touch, her voice—they cut through the panic, grounding me in the present. The affection and concern in her eyes are so genuine, so pure, that my fears ebb.

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