Page 19 of Thawed Gladiator: Victor

I swallow, use all my self-control to force my gaze north, and watch as he moves experimentally, testing the modern fabrics’ stretch.

“Better?” I manage to ask.

“The material is… strange.” His Latin comes through the translator monotone, but it’s clear he’s slightly puzzled. “But yes, better for movement.”

We gather enough clothes for a week of training, plus some casual wear and footwear. I’m not sure whether he thinks modern-day sneakers are better than sliced bread or if he’d rather be wearing sandals. I don’t think he’s decided.

At the checkout, I catch him studying the register’s digital display with barely concealed fascination.

“Almost done,” I say, more to myself than him. We’ve gotten through this without incident, without drawing suspicion. Just a normal shopping trip for normal training gear. Nothing to suggest my fighter is actually a two-thousand-year-old gladiator seeing modern commerce for the first time.

Back in the SUV, Victor holds the shopping bags carefully in his lap. His expression has returned to its usual stoic calm, but something has shifted. Each new experience in this world subtly changes him—not breaking his warrior’s discipline, but adapting it to new circumstances.

“In two days, you’ll need everything you’ve learned,” I say as Marco navigates through traffic. “Rico’s fighters won’t show mercy just because you’re new.”

“Mercy is not about receiving,” he replies quietly. “It is about choosing to give even when others would not.”

The words hit me with the force of a punch. Here we are, preparing him for underground fights, lying about his situation, and he’s teaching lessons about mercy. What am I becoming?

But there’s no time for guilt, and no way I’m going to rock his world before the upcoming fight. The day after tomorrow, he faces Empire’s best fighters. I have two days to somehow prepare him for modern combat without revealing too much about his own past.

And somewhere in the midst of it all, I have to figure out how to protect him from everyone who wants to exploit him—including, perhaps, myself.

Chapter Fifteen

Maya

The sound of Victor shifting on the too-small couch wakes me again. Third time tonight. Despite his stoic silence, I hear him trying to find a comfortable position, his large frame cramped on furniture meant for casual seating, not sleeping.

After our verbal power struggle, he slept that first night on the bed. Since then, he’s refused so adamantly I’ve been unable to budge him.

Enough is enough.

Moving quietly to the living room, I find him doing pushups in the darkness, probably trying to work out the stiffness from weeks of inadequate rest. Even in the dim light filtering through the windows, his form is perfect.

“This has to stop.”

He transitions smoothly to his feet, maintaining proper distance despite our growing comfort with each other. “Mydominashould be sleeping.”

“So should you. In abed.” I cross my arms, trying to look stern despite being in sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt. “You need to be at your best for the fight.”

“The couch serves well enough.”

“The dark circles under your eyes say different.” Moving closer, I soften my tone. “You’ve been respectful of my bed long enough. Now you’re just being stubborn.”

His lips quirk slightly. “Perhaps.”

“The bed’s big enough for both of us.” I’ve made this offer before, but tonight I won’t back down. “And before you start telling me the rules about propriety, remember we’ve been living alone together for weeks now.”

“Which already strains the bounds of proper behavior.” Even in the darkness, I catch his slight frown. “An unmarried woman, alone with—”

“A man who needs proper rest before a crucial fight.” I cut him off before he can retreat into formality. “I’m not asking. I’m telling. As your…” The word sticks in my throat, but I force it out. “As yourdomina.”

His sharp intake of breath tells me I’ve surprised him. I haven’t pulled rank like this for weeks.

“You fight soon,” I continue quickly. “You need real sleep. The bed is big enough that we can both maintain perfect propriety while getting actual rest.”

He studies me in the darkness, and I wonder what he sees. A trainer concerned for her fighter? Adominaexercising authority? Or just a woman trying to take care of someone she’s coming to care about far too much?

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