Page 30 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

Chapter Twenty-Three

Diana

I want to duck my head, hide my mouth with my hand like I always do when I’m nervous, but I force myself to meet Cassius’s gaze. He’s propped on one elbow beside me, his expression so tender it makes my chest ache. How did I get here? Not just in bed with this impossibly wonderful man, but ready to tell him things I’ve barely admitted to myself?

“When you were kissing my scar earlier…” I begin, then falter. His expression shifts to concern, and he opens his mouth to apologize. “No, let me finish. Most men either pretend not to notice it or act grossed out by it. You… you made it seem beautiful.”

I trace the line that splits my upper lip and continues through the bottom one. “I used to think it defined me. That it was the first thing anyone saw when they looked at me.”

“Diana—” he starts, but I shake my head.

“Please. I need to get this out.” I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “When I turned eighteen, I fought to get access to my files from Family Services. I needed to know… needed to understand why my parents gave me up, handed me over to the system.”

His hand finds mine under the covers, offering silent support.

“I was four years old,” I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. The actual memory of that night is gone, blocked by a young mind protecting itself. “There had been multiple reports already—drug use, domestic violence, neglect. But that night… something happened. The report says I wouldn’t stop crying.”

The words catch in my throat, but the gentle stroke of Cassius’s thumb against my palm keeps me grounded. Our hands stay connected, his thumb circling, circling.

“They were both high. Either my father or my mother—the reports conflict—punched me in the face. Hard enough to break my nose and split my lip almost clean through. They didn’t even take me to the hospital. A neighbor heard me screaming and called the police.”

I feel his body tense beside me, but he remains silent, letting me tell my story.

“The doctor at the local hospital stitched the lip but left my nose. The report said there was too much swelling to do anything with it that night. The system never found the money to do the reconstructive surgery. Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded that my own parents… the people who were supposed to love me more than anything… couldn’t even love me enough not to hurt me.”

My voice breaks on the last words. Cassius pulls me closer, and I bury my face in his chest, breathing in his warm, calming scent.

“After that, it was foster home after foster home. Some were okay. Some were… not. I learned to make myself small, invisible. To hide my face so people wouldn’t stare or ask questions. I got into fights when kids made fun of me. The third time my nose was broken, no one bothered to take me to a hospital.”

His hand strokes my hair, gentle and soothing.

“After I ran away a few times, they labeled me ‘difficult’. Put me in a group home for troubled teens. But there was this program—therapeutic riding. The first time I touched a horse, it didn’t care what I looked like. Didn’t judge me for my scars or my attitude. It just… accepted me.”

I lift my head to look at him. “That’s why this work means so much to me. Because I know what it’s like to need healing, to need someone to see past the surface to who you really are.”

Cassius cups my face in his hands, his thumbs ghosting over my cheeks. “Pulchra es.”You are beautiful. “Not despite the scars. Because of them. They show… strength. Survival.”

His words touch something deep inside me, something raw and tender that even our passionate lovemaking didn’t reach. He doesn’t try to fix me or tell me it doesn’t matter. He sees my pain, acknowledges it, and still chooses to see beauty there.

“The marks on our bodies and the ones inside that aren’t visible but hurt even more,” he continues, his speech overflowing with emotion, “they tell our story. But they do not write our ending.”

He presses his lips to my scar, not in passion this time, but in reverence. “This,” he murmurs against my skin, “is proof you are stronger than those who tried to break you.”

Tears slip down my cheeks as something tight and painful in my chest begins to unravel. Cassius gathers me close, his strong arms creating a shelter where, for the first time in my life, I feel completely safe being exactly who I am.

We lie in the darkness, his hands running soothingly over my back, neither of us speaking. We don’t need words for this—this moment of perfect understanding, of walls coming down and trust building up.

Just before sleep claims me, I realize something: for the first time in my life, when someone looks at me, I don’t want to hide.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cassius

Although the first gray light of dawn slips in around Diana’s curtains, I don’t move when I awaken. Lying still, I savor the weight of her arm draped across my chest. I’ve never seen her hair so messy. I enjoy the sight, which makes me astultus, because it gives me a little thrill to know that all those tangles are because she was thrashing her head at the pleasure I gave her.

Part of me wants to wake her, to see her smile and hear her laugh, but I resist the urge. After last night, after what we shared physically and emotionally, she deserves this moment of peace.

In the distance, I hear the distinctive whir of helicopter blades. Dara must be leaving. I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that Diana won’t have to face her again. Now that I understand why Diana is so self-conscious, it makes sense she’s especiallyuncomfortable around Dara. But she has nothing to worry about. Dara may have wealth and power, but Diana is so warm and genuine that it outshines any fancy clothes or hairstyle.

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