Page 45 of Thawed Gladiator Thrax

“Bad dream?” she asks, her palm gently wiping the panicked sweat off my brow.

I nod, unable to form words just yet. Skye pulls me close, her fingers running through my hair in a comforting gesture. Finally, I take a deep breath and babble out my fears about my worth and the truth of what’s going on between the two of us.

“Listen to me,” she says firmly. “Those thoughts are not true. You are so much more than you realize, Thrax. You’re strong, and kind, and brave. And I…” she pauses, taking a deep breath. “I care about you so much. More than I’ve ever cared for anyone.”

Her words wash over me, soothing the raw edges of my mind. But she’s not done yet.

“Stay right here,” she says, her tone allowing no argument. “Count to two hundred. Can you do that for me? Count to two hundred before you start panicking again. Promise me.”

I nod, even as I wonder if I can get away with lying to her—no. “I promise.”

She kisses me quickly, then darts out of the room. I count, the simple task helping to calm my racing thoughts. By the time I reach one hundred fifty, I hear her footsteps hammering down the hallway.

Skye bursts back into the room, slightly out of breath, clutching something in her hand. As she approaches, I realize what it is—the wooden phallus necklace I carved for her, the one she wore despite the initial misunderstanding.

“Tell me,” she says, sitting beside me on the bed. “Tell me again exactly what Caecilia said when she gave you your talisman.”

Confused but complying, I repeat the words that have been etched in my memory for two millennia. “For protection and good luck. May the Gods watch over you, my boy. May the Goddess Fortuna herself smile upon you.”

Skye listens intently, then, to my surprise, repeats the words back to me in perfect Latin. She’s turned down her earbud translator, I realize, wanting to speak the words exactly as Caecilia did—in my language.

“Now,” she says, holding out the necklace. “You have your talisman back, Thrax. And you have something else—you have me.”

She slips the necklace over my head, the familiar weight settling against my chest. It’s as if a missing piece of myself has been returned.

“Skye,” I breathe, overwhelmed by her gesture.

She takes my hand, placing it over the dolphin pendant dangling between her breasts. “And I have you,” she says softly. “This isn’t about your value as a historical figure or a scientific marvel, Thrax. This is about you and me. Two people who found each other against impossible odds.”

I pull her close, burying my face in her hair, breathing in her scent. The last traces of my nightmare fade, replaced by the warmth of her embrace and the truth of her words.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “For everything. For seeing me. The real me.”

Skye pulls back slightly, her gaze meeting mine. “Always,” she promises. Then, with a small smile, she adds, “Now, how about we try to get some more sleep? And if those bad dreams come back, remember—you’ve got your talisman, you’ve got me, and you’ve got your own strength. You’re not alone, Thrax. Not anymore.”

As we settle back into bed, Skye’s body fitting perfectly against mine, I feel a sense of peace wash over me. The wooden phallus rests against my chest, a link to my past. The woman in my armsrepresents my future. And for the first time in my long, strange life, I feel truly, completely whole.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Skye

Thrax stands shirtless in the sunlight streaming through our window, his back to me. Fortuna’s face seems to come alive, Elodie’s skill making her robes flow like real fabric. The areas where his scars were most prominent have been transformed into a wheel of fate, spinning out new possibilities.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, stepping closer to admire it.

Thrax turns, a rare, full smile lighting his face. “It feels… right. Like I’m honoring my past while jumping ahead into this new life.” His hand finds mine, squeezing gently.

The depth of emotion in his eyes takes my breath away. In this moment, I realize just how far we’ve come together, and how much further we have yet to go.

We haven’t been sexual since that first night. Between the healing tattoo and my long hours improving the translation program, it’s never felt like the perfect time. And because of Thrax’s past, I truly want it to be perfect.

“We’ve got a breakfast date with Varro and Laura,” I remind him.

Soon, we’re in the cafeteria, which hums with its usual activity, but our table feels like an island of extra excitement. Varro can barely contain his enthusiasm as he leans across the table toward Thrax and me.

“It’s happening tomorrow,” he says, glancing around to ensure no one’s eavesdropping. “You’ve done so well, Thrax, that we’re thawing the next gladiator.”

Upon hearing this, my excitement is secondary to fear. Even though Thrax’s response to the revival process has gone without a hitch, from my understanding, this is still a procedure that could be deadly for some or all of the others. Thrax and I are so attuned that he must sense my worries, because he reassures me by squeezing my thigh.

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