Page 15 of Thawed Gladiator: Lucius
Before I can respond, a harsh voice cuts through the morning air.
“Another reporter trying to turn us into circus attractions?”
A lean, hard-faced man stalks toward us, his expression twisted with contempt. Though he wears modern workout clothes like some of the others, something in his bearing separates him from the rest—an aura of authority mixed with cruelty.
“Sulla,” Laura says, her tone cooling instantly. “Raven is here as Lucius’s guest, not for a story.”
His eyes narrow as they rake over my appearance—the black clothes, the tattoos, the carefully applied makeup. “So you profit from death. How fitting that you’d seek out our resident death priest.”
The accusation is meant to demean. Before I can defend myself, Sulla turns toward the training area.
“Lucius!” he calls, his voice carrying easily across the yard. “Your… admirer has returned.”
Several gladiators pause their exercises, attention drawn to the disruption. Lucius disengages from his sparring match, exchanging what looks like respectful words with Thrax as he steps into a pair of sweatpants, pulls a t-shirt over his head and steps into a pair of sandals before approaching us with measured strides.
“Remember how they gawked at you in the arena?” Sulla continues, deliberately stepping between us. “The Ghost—a pale curiosity for their entertainment. Some things never change.”
“That’s enough, Sulla.” The authority in Lucius’s voice surprises me. Despite his non-threatening posture, something in his tone brooks no argument.
Sulla’s lip curls in disdain. “Just reminding you of reality,priest,” he responds in Latin, the translation flowing through the device I’ve already inserted into my ear, thanks to Laura. He emphasizes the last word like an insult before stalking away.
“Don’t mind him,” says an approaching gladiator with a booming voice and easy smile. “Sulla still thinks he’s ourludusmaster instead of just another gladiator who got frozen with the rest of us.”
“Flavius,” Lucius introduces with a slight nod. “This is Raven.”
“The podcast woman!” Flavius’s enthusiasm feels genuine as he shakes my hand with surprising gentleness despite his obvious strength. “Lucius mentioned your cave explorations. Much more interesting than one more boring historian asking about the texture of arena sand.”
Another gladiator approaches—older, with grizzled features and watchful eyes that seem to evaluate everything. “Quintus,” Lucius says simply. The older man nods in greeting but remains silent, his assessing gaze moving between Lucius and me with obvious curiosity.
“I brought you something,” I tell Lucius, suddenly self-conscious with so many gazes on us. I gesture toward my car. “After yesterday, I realized I hadn’t considered your light sensitivity.”
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, perhaps, that I’d thought about his specific needs. “That was… unnecessary, but appreciated.”
We walk to my car together, leaving the others behind. When I open the trunk to reveal the collection of sun-protective items, his brows lift, the hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“You researched this specifically for me?” The question carries genuine wonder.
“Of course.” The answer comes easily. “I should have thought about it before dragging you into a dark mine that could collapse and force us into sudden light.”
His fingers skim over the specialized sunglasses and the fabric of the UV-protective shirt. “Most people wouldn’t have bothered.”
“Most people are self-absorbed jerks,” I reply with a shrug. “Besides, it’s the least I could do after you shoved me out of the way of that falling beam.”
A subtle smile touches his lips. “A fair exchange, then.”
The morning sun strengthens, causing him to squint slightly. Without thinking, I hand him the sunglasses. “Try these. They’re designed specifically for conditions like yours.”
He slips them on, the immediate relief evident in the way the wrinkle between his eyes softens. “Much better than what the sanctuary provided.”
“Those look good on you,” I observe, surprised by how the sleek black frames complement his features. “Very modern badass.”
His chuckle—a sound I’ve not heard before—sends unexpected warmth through my chest.
The moment breaks when I notice Sulla watching us from the shadow of a nearby building, his expression unreadable. Whenour gazes meet, he doesn’t look away or pretend he wasn’t staring—just continues his cold observation with predatory focus.
“Don’t let him bother you,” Lucius says, following my gaze. “Sulla has always thrived on creating discomfort in others.”
“What’s his problem?” I keep my voice low.
