Page 52 of Thawed Gladiator Thrax

The afternoon passes in a whirl of sights and sounds. Skye is careful to avoid any ancient ruins. We’ve agreed to save those for tomorrow. Instead, we visit art galleries and modern buildings, each more fascinating than the last.

As evening approaches, we return to our hotel to prepare for dinner. I change into the new outfit I bought, almost desperate to see that look of desire in Skye’s eyes as I did in the clothing shop. When I emerge from the bathroom, Skye’s eyes widen—and her interest shoots straight to my phallus.

“Wow,” she breathes. “You look… awesome.”

Her reaction makes me stand a little taller, warmth spreading through my chest.

Later, Skye emerges from the bathroom in a dress that takes my breath away. “You look beautiful,” I tell her, the words a poor description of how attractive she is.

Her smile brightens her face. It could make a man feel warm even on the coldest day. “Thank you. Shall we?”

The restaurant Skye chose is elegant, with soft lighting and tables draped in white cloth. As we’re seated, I can’t help but marvel at how different this is from the dining tables I ate at in myluditwo thousand years ago.

When the waiter hands us what Skye calls “menus,” I stare at the words, feeling lost. Sensing my discomfort, Skye quietly reads the options to me, explaining unfamiliar dishes. Her thoughtfulness warms my heart.

We share bites of each other’s meals, laughing and talking as we eat. The wine Skye ordered is sweet and light, nothing like the harsh wine of my time. As the meal progresses, a warmth spreads through me that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

After dessert, a coffee-flavored cake Skye tells me originated in Italy, we walk through streets lit by lamps with no fire. The night air is cool and pleasant as we stroll hand in hand through the city.

Before I realize where we’re going, I hear the sound of rushing water. We round a corner, and suddenly, we’re facing the Trevi Fountain, just as Skye described it when she was researching what we should see. In the moonlight, it’s even more breathtaking than I imagined.

“It lifts the heart,” I breathe, unable to take my eyes off the spectacle.

Skye nods, squeezing my hand. “It does transport you, right? Oh, look!” She points to people tossing coins into the fountain. “Want to make a wish?”

“Why are they throwing away money?” I’m puzzled.

Skye pulls out her phone, quickly looking something up. “Oh, this is interesting. There’s a legend about the fountain. If you throw one coin, you’ll return to Rome. Two coins mean you’ll fall in love with an attractive Italian.”

She wiggles her eyebrows in a manner she might think is arousing, but is actually silly and very cute.

“And three coins…” She pauses, looking up at me with a soft smile. “Three coins mean you’ll marry the person you met.”

My heart races as I remember the coins in my pocket that I switched to these trousers when I changed clothes. Looking into Skye’s eyes, I make a firm decision. I pull out three coins, turn my back to the fountain, and toss them over my shoulder one by one.

When I turn back, Skye’s eyes are shining with unshed tears. “Thrax?” She tips her head, her expression looking as though she has a dozen questions, though all she said was that one single word.

Taking her hands in mine, I gather my courage. “Skye, I… I love you. I didn’t know what that word even meant before. But now… now I do. This passion that lives in my heart, the way I don’t feel fully alive when you’re not around, the admiration I have for your intellect which is equal to,” my voice lowers as I scan from the top of her head to her feet, “my desire for your body… You’ve given me a voice, a new life, a new world. You’ve shown me kindness and patience I never knew existed. You make me want to be a better man, to be worthy of the affection I see in your eyes.”

For a moment, she’s silent, and I fear I’ve said too much. But then her smile blooms, brighter than the moon above us. “Oh, Thrax.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “I love you, too. So much. You’ve opened my eyes to the wonders of the world, made me see everything anew. Your strength, your courage, your gentle heart—they amaze me every day. I never knew I could feel this way about anyone.”

She leans in, and I meet her halfway. Our kiss is soft at first, then deepens, filled with all the love and passion we feel for each other. The world around us fades away—the rush of the fountain, the chatter of tourists who might be talking about us for all I care, the bustling city—until there’s nothing but Skye and me, wrapped in each other’s embrace.

My arms tighten around her, though I’m always afraid I’ll break her; she seems so fragile in my arms. Perhaps what she calls her “word vomit” is contagious, because my mind is whirling with all the things I want to say to her.

I want to tell her I’ve counted the freckles on her cheeks, that I always take care to lick the tiny scar on her bottom lip when we kiss, that when she sleeps, I like to twine one of her curls around my thick finger, then watch it spring back to life, as though pulled by some unseen force.

I want to tell her I’ve dreamed of a future together, though I don’t know where I’ll be in a few months. I may not know what this Missouri looks like, but I can see us together there, as we figure out what to do with our lives. Will I ever gather the courage to tell her I’ve pictured what type of children we couldcreate together? Little girls with curls that shine in the sun, just like hers?

I don’t say a thing, though. I’m too busy delving into her mouth with my tongue, trying not to grunt with pleasure like the savage I am when I’m with her. My hands roam her back, following every curve and dip of her lush figure. All the feelings rolling through me are puzzling, as though I’ve spiraled into the heavens for a moment.

When I return to earth, we finally part, and I rest my forehead against hers. “I never want this moment to end.”

Skye’s laugh is soft, joyous. “It doesn’t have to. This is just the beginning, Thrax. We have our whole lives ahead of us.”

This makes me wonder, has she imagined the future, too? Could she have pictured a son who takes after his father? Of course, he’d be much more handsome than I could hope to be.

We stand by the fountain, holding each other close as the moon climbs higher in the sky. The water sparkles like diamonds, catching the light and throwing it back in dazzling patterns. It feels magical, as if the very air around us is charged with possibility.

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