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mlmmetalhead · 1 year

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Rip my ribcage open, devour what's truly yours

Ethan Landry x Male reader

CW: nsfw, murder of an original female character, emetophobia, slutshaming? kinda?; mentions of straight sex, the reader is attracted to men and women, Ethan is gay, cowboy position, top reader, from sub to power bottom Ethan, evil fucked up Ethan, jealousy, possession kink, a REALLY unhealthy obsession, blood kink, biting.

MINORS + FEM ALIGNED DNI

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The music was booming, Ethan's ears rang and the lighting was dazzling. People's bodies around him smelled of sweat and alcohol, and his head felt like it would crack open. Then a wave of nausea hit him, and he felt the contents of his stomach creeping up his throat. Ethan's hand shot up to his mouth as he tried to search for Chad or Y/n in the crowd of unfamiliar people. But he couldn't - it was as if his friends have dissolved into thin air. He pushed through the wall of people to the stairs, climbing them as fast as he could. Luckily, there weren't as many people as there were downstairs. Ethan darted around searching for a bathroom when he stumbled on a door at the end of the corridor that looked like it might be a bathroom.

Without thinking, Ethan pushed through the door to what he thought would be a bathroom only to be met with a sight of a bedroom with dim lights. The bed was occupied by a naked girl with one of the guys Ethan searched for on top of her. His heart dropped as Y/n jolted back up, locking eyes with Landry. Ethan didn't know why he felt like this, why he felt his hands tensing up around the door handle and his teeth gritted. But he didn't have a chance to think about it more before he threw up on the clothes scattered on the floor.

"Shit, Ethan!" Y/n screamed as he bounced right back on his feet, still half naked. The girl made a loud sound of disgust as L/n helped his friend not to literally pass out right there. He wrapped his hands around Ethan's torso, and the latter thought he could throw up a second time at the thought of those same hands being on this girl's body just a second ago. Landry still felt a disgusting feeling pooling in his stomach as he made eye contact with the naked girl on the bed. He made sure to memorize every single feature of her dirty little face he grew to hate in bare seconds. He tried to pull a shit eating grin, clawing on his friend's shoulders, but it fell flat as he closed his eyes, too tired to really function.

Chad later told him, that Y/n went out the room, with no shirt on and his belt unbuckled, carrying unconscious Ethan in his hands. He took his shirt with him and drove the passed out guy to their dorm. Before he drove off, the girl he tried to hook up with, Chloe, a theater major, made a whole scene and slapped Y/n across the face. Apparently, it was mainly her clothes Ethan threw up all over, which honestly, he was delighted to learn. Through the course of next week, Landry made it his priority learning more about that bitch L/n was with. He didn't know why, not really, but every time he thought about Y/n being with her that night, he felt like destroying something.

It wasn't hard finding her on social media, especially since Quinn agreed to help her dear brother. Her Tinder account was especially disgusting. It's definitely for the best Y/n didn't sleep with her, with the amount of guys she hooks up with, no wonder she probably has STDS. Hacking her account was easy, of course someone as dumb as her would make all of their account passwords the same. From then on, when she agreed to a date with some random dude, Ethan just logged into her account and told the guy something along the lines of 'family business', just ten minutes before the set time. It's too bad Chloe was already on the agreed spot.

It was a seemingly peaceful evening on a busy street. Chloe was waiting for her Tinder date forever, beginning to think of the possibility of being stood up. Suddenly, her phone rang, and the display showed an unknown number, but she didn't remember sharing her phone with this guy. But with no better options, she accepted it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Chloe?", there was a certain impatience with how the voice sounded.

"Yes, and are you... Jason, by any chance?"

"Yeah, yeah! I'm really sorry for running late it's uh... I'm not familiar with this part of town."

"It's fine, I get that", Chloe giggled. She really liked the guy's voice, "Can you see... A park? Or maybe someone walking their dog, there's a dog play area here."

The question was followed by silence, but just when Chloe began to feel uneasy, the voice on the other side broke through again: "Yes, there is someone walking their dog, but I don't see a park... Wait, they're walking towards and alley, is there an alley nearby?"

She looked around and spotted a dark alleyway a couple of meters away from her, "Yes! Yes, are you going in?"

"I am! Oh, that's just great, I was worried I was lost."

Chloe hurriedly walked towards the alley, which, admittedly, was a bit creepy, with no one around and the dark sky above. Walking in, she stopped around the center of it, her eyes searching for the cute guy she met on tinder, or at least, the person with their dog he mentioned. But no one showed up. "Are you sure you're on the right address?" Her voice sounded a bit anxious.

"I don't know... Am I, Chloe?" the girl shuddered at the words, a dreadful sense of uneasiness crawling up her back.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, you better be. Say, do you like scary movies?" Chloe felt panic rising in her stomach, as her eyes frantically darted around the alley.

"N-no, not really my thing... Are you there already?!"

"Oh, then it's no wonder. No wonder you were so stupid, to walk into an empty alley in the cover of the night."

Before Chloe got the chance to answer, she felt a gloved hand grab her mouth, and a sharp blade piercing her back. She tried to scream, but the next place the blade struck was her throat, leaving her a babbling mess, blood pouring out of her barely open mouth. As misery and fear that of a dying rabbit struck her, tears streamed down her face. Oh, how Ethan loved it. He drove his blade into her quickly collapsing body, hoping to reach into her fading soul. He hoped it hurt. Hoped it hurt just as much it hurt him to see her take what belonged to him. Every time her flesh ripped, he couldn't help but imagine himself in her place that night, covered in her blood as Y/n took him and made them one.

By the time Landry was done with her, she was almost unrecognizable. He was covered in blood from head to toe. Such a pity she couldn't see his face behind that ghostface mask, maybe she'd even recognize him. Maybe she'd remember how he smiled at her when his Y/n discarded her as a toy the second he, his dear Ethan felt bad.

It didn't take too long for the murder to appear on the news. Ethan couldn't help but smile when the cops said they didn't have any leads. It was presumed to be connected to the ghostface murders, with a similar hit-and-run way of attacking, but no masks were found at the scene. Either way, it was someone from their college, someone they knew. So it was no wonder Ethan showed up at Y/n's door on the same evening the news broke out. He looked like a kicked puppy, especially with the rain that poured outside, his hair and sweater were wet, and his eyes pleading with his friend for shelter.

"What happened?", his sweet, sweet voice made Ethan so excited.

"I'm scared, Y/n... Can I please stay with you for some time? Chad's with his friends and I don't want to be alone..."

L/n's face was full of concern when he let Landry through the door of his room. Ethan inhaled the air filled with his favorite scent and smiled to himself before turning around with the same sad expression on his face.

"Shit, you're drenched... Here, I'll get you a spare shirt and pants if you want." Y/n looked at his friend, stretching his hand out. Only a couple seconds after it occurred to Ethan what he was stretching his arm for, and bit his lip in an attempt to hide his excitement before pulling the sweater off his body, followed by his pants. His beloved made an attempt to cover his eyes, to which Landry mumbled: "It's fine... You can look." Ethan held eye contact with Y/n as he revealed himself to him, hoping his friend wouldn't notice the half-hard-on in his boxers.

His bed was so soft, especially with his old clothes on, practically surrounded by things that reminded Landry of him. Some movie Ethan wasn't really paying attention to was playing on the TV, the h/c guy layed beside him, his hands wrapped around Ethan's torso, gently caressing the burning skin. Landry didn't know how much longer he could hold himself from pouncing right on top of Y/n, as unconventional memories of Chloe's ripping flesh began to crawl in-between his soft thighs.

"Y'know, it's really great to have you here." Ethan tore his gaze off of the TV screen, intently watching Y/n's features, "I was... I'm really scared too. I knew Chloe, y'know? When I heard the news I thought... Y'know, it's stupid, it was over a week after that but... I thought if I haven't just left her at that party maybe things would've been... Different."

Ethan felt his jaw tensing again, as his brows furrowed. That familiar sense of blood boiling in his veins and a sharp feel of anger piercing at his heart. He gutted that fucking bitch so Y/n would give all the attention to him, not that he would talk about her useless dead ass, especially when they're supposed to be hanging out together!

"You alright?" L/n asked, worry clearly painted on his face. Was Ethan so mad it showed on his face?

"Yeah. It's fine."

"No, something's wrong, I can see it. Talk to me, dude. I want to be able to help." With those words, the guy took Landry's hands in his own, slightly caressing his palms. Ethan's breathing got stuck in his throat when he tried to make eye contact with the object of his admiration. "I-it's nothing. It's stupid."

"If it's bothering you, then it's clearly not stupid. You know, everyone's on the edge right now. You can tell me if something... Or someone, is bothering you." Ethan raised his eyes, locking with the e/c ones. He opened his dry mouth and whispered, barely audible:

"Can you kiss me?"

Y/n stayed still for a moment, his expression blank. Ethan felt his heart sink. Was he too selfish in his attempts of conquering the man's attention and heart, that he hadn't even considered the possibility of it being not mutual? And then he heard the hushed response, "Yes." Y/n pulled Landry closer to him, and his arms, which had held him a second ago, wrapped around Ethan's shoulders, pressing gently against his stiff body. Ethan, without taking his eyes off the others, leaned forward so that their heads were flush, then kissed L/n lightly. The kiss was sweet, tender, and very gradual, fully consistent with the sensations that Ethan had been waiting to experience. Y/n's movements seemed slow and sleepy, Landry's were sharp and impetuous, but they were just as harmonious and complete. When they separated, Ethan's lips were red and wet, his eyes looking at what he had desired for so long with desperation.

"Y/n..." he uttered, slowly breathing, as if in a state of trance. "Take me, please?"

L/n was hesitant for a second, his hands ghosting around the hem of his own old shirt on Ethan's slender body. "You sure you're okay with this?"

Landry couldn't help but smile, showing a little bit of tooth which, for some unknown reason, made Y/n shudder. "Of course I am. I couldn't tell you how long I've been waiting..."

The cold air of the room hit Ethan's burning skin like a dozen of needles. He made a great effort to let L/n know his hands were more than welcome to explore, all while being completely steady himself, only reveling in the intoxicating sensation of rough human skin again his shamefully exposed body. Occasional silent pleas left his wet lips, which were always obliged by the one he longed for. When the time came for his pants, Landry took them off himself. There was no point in trying to hide the obvious excitement between his legs now, so he presented himself fully to Y/n, admittedly, still being a bit shy about it. L/n was not at all disconcerted by this choice of his partner. It lent a touch of innocence to everything that was going on. His soft skin tasted of salt on Y/n's lips. Ethan bent his legs at the knees and spread them apart. L/n leaned forward, never stopping to stroke Landry's cock through his silky black briefs. Softly, he wrapped his arms around his ass and pulled Ethan to him, and when his knee was between his legs, he felt the force with which Landry squeezed him with his hips. Ethan felt as if his flesh had been struck by lightning. He could hardly restrain a moan. His lover's hands were working magic on his sensitive pink nipples, as his knee was rubbing his erection. This was something else, something new, something he had never before felt. A feeling of escape swept through Ethan's body in a way that he couldn't even begin to explain. It was as if all the obstacles that had held back his flow for so long had vanished, leaving him with what he chased for so long, together with him. Landry let out a low, throaty moan, squeezing Y/n's knee even harder with his thighs. A few more moments passed, and then he spoke up:

"Wait... Can you... Take your shirt off too? I want... Want to see."

Y/n smiled, his hands traveling from Ethan's nipples down to his palms, slowly stroking and while directing them towards the bottom of his own shirt.

"Take it off yourself if you want, baby."

Landry felt his cock twitch in his briefs, a quiet moan leaving him. His heart was racing at the intimacy of the moment when he first saw L/n's bare stomach and a slight line of a happy trail leading him down like a guideline. When his eyes met with his lover's chest, he couldn't help but let a hand slip. It traveled down to the edge of Y/n's pants, stopping at it, before Ethan looked up questioningly at his heart's contents. L/n smiled again and nodded. Only that was needed for Landry to pull the pants down along with the boxers. He felt his hole clench upon looking at the hard member revealed to him.

"Is this...", his voice was breathless, "...because of me?"

His lover only chuckled at that, letting a hand pet Ethan's soft curls. "Of course it's because of you. Who else would it be? It's only for you."

Only for him. Only for him. Oh god, these words made Landry's sick mind make an another twist and a sickly sweet feeling pool in his stomach. His. No one else's. A Cheshire-like grin crawled upon his soft feature's as Ethan touched Y/n's hard cock, not giving it any mercy as his hand sped up, jerking it, spreading around a layer of pre. "Yeah? Tell me more."

L/n shuddered, a sudden feeling that can only be described as what a deer feels being caught by a wolf washed over his body and mind, stunning him for a good minute. He couldn't take his eyes off of Ethan's smirk. His glistening fangs sent a shiver down Y/n's spine.

"I- I'm hard because of you. I've been jerking it to the thought of you... For a while, to be honest."

Landry let our a low guttural sound, that L/n swore sounded like a growl. "I did the same for you." He giggled, speeding his hand up. Y/n moaned at the sensation of the guy's hand on his cock, but it wasn't for too long that he was able to enjoy it. Suddenly, all at once, it stopped. Ethan got his hand off of L/n, instead getting more comfortable climbing onto his lap.

" 'm gonna ride you, okay? Saw it in porn once. You okay with that, sweetie?" Y/n nodded, accepting his role and breathing in the sweet scent of the guy on top of him.

He smelled of blood.

When the tip of his cock brushed over Ethan's hole, L/n found he was already prepped."I've been waiting for this for so long.", Landry half whispered, biting his lip, "Do you know how many times I've touched myself thinking about this? About you? I've never... I'm a virgin, you know? Do you like that, Y/n? Taking my innocence? Fuck, I hope you do.", With those words, he lowered himself on the other man's cock with a loud, high-pitched moan. A sharp bite tearing into the soft skin of a deer. They both moaned as Landry wasted no time to start moving, colliding their bodies in a sensual symphony of sweat and loud breaths.

"Fuck! Feels even better than I imagined! So deep! Do you like this, babe?", Ethan's eyes darted back to L/n's face, seemingly not even searching for an answer, only to drink in the tasteful expression of pleasure on his face. In unison with the sound of the slapping skin, the h/c male loudly moaned a positive response, throwing his head back. He felt Ethan's claws digging into his shoulders as his pace increased. Landry wasn't ashamed anymore, not holding in all and any noises he made, almost like he was making sure all the neighbors knew he was finally claiming what belonged to him. Fuck, he wished he was covered in that whore's blood now. He wished to leave blood marks on Y/n's perfect body as a sign of sacrifice in their sinful ritual as they became one.

Now every breath of air bursting from Ethan's lungs filled his instincts with lust. The animal part in him demanded to sink his teeth into that muscular throat and tear the flesh, leaving a scarlet mark on his skin. Landry imagined the pleasure Y/n would feel crying out in pain. He groaned, trembling at the keen sensation of the unfulfilled. Soon it would happen, and the smell of blood would fill him, soaking his entire body. To delay the moment when he would cum, Ethan slowed his pace. After a few seconds, it worked, a wave of tremors ran through Landry's body. The sweet pain of drawn-out pleasure boiled up in his throat. It was only when it became difficult to restrain himself that he began to move faster. "Mine..." he murmured in a voice hoarse with desire.

"What was that?" L/n asked, barely able to process the world around him with a spinning head, drunk with lust.

"Mine... Mine!" Ethan screamed louder and louder, saliva dripping from his red lips onto the man underneath him. A hungry beast. "Mine! No one else's! And I'm yours! Claim me!" They both got lost in a loud scream of pleasure. Ethan lost his mind, moving up and down at an inhuman pace, feeling his legs stick to his lover from the amount of precum they were covered in. Feeling climax approach, with an animalistic grin plastered onto his face, Ethan jumped forward, biting down on Y/n's shoulder, drawing out a bit of blood. L/n moaned, music for Landry's ears.

"Mine! Mine! Mine! Y/n!" Ethan screamed, darting upwards and stretching his back while his body exploded in a final catharsis. Jumping back down one last time he felt Y/n's seed spilling inside, filling his guts with the ecstatic feeling of being owned.

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bradshawsbaby · 8 months

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Si Vis Amari Ama

VIII. Let the Games Begin

SERIES MASTERLIST

JOIN THE TAGLIST!

Pairings: Rooster (Roman Name: Gallus) x Female Reader (Roman Name: Sabina), featuring Hangman (Roman Name: Carnifex) x Phoenix

Summary: A girl whose freedom was stolen to pay her father’s debts. A gladiator enslaved for the entertainment of Rome. A love they never thought possible.

Author’s Note: I apologize that it's taken me so long to update! I've been having a hard time finding the motivation to write as of late, but this story remains very near and dear to my heart and I'm grateful that I've had the inspiration to work on it these past few days. Thank you for bearing with me! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 13k+

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, angst, allusions to unwanted sexual advances, gladiatorial combat, violence, blood, death, slow burn romance, alternating point of view.

He could feel the thunderous roar of the crowd pounding in his skull, a searing pain that pulsed behind his closed eyelids, rivaled only by the throbbing ache in his shoulder. The stamping feet of tens of thousands of spectators shook his bones and thrummed in his bloodstream, the energy of his captive audience rising and growing like a living beast. He could sense it burrowing just beneath the surface of his skin, engulfing his body in flames—the same Roman flames that had stolen his mother away from him and destroyed the only true home he had ever known.

And yet, for all that his body felt as though it was wrapped in fire, he found himself unable to move. Unable to lift the arm that held the sword they’d so foolishly placed in his hand. Unable to open his eyes and gaze upon the crazed, bloodthirsty faces of the people he hated so much. Unable to do anything except succumb to the pounding that vibrated through him, rattling him to his core and robbing him of any shred of peace. But when had he ever known peace?

Swallowing deeply, he realized just how dry his mouth was—drier than the sands of the arena itself. And on his tongue, he could taste nothing more than salt and ashes.

But that pounding. When would it cease? He couldn’t even raise his hands to his ears to block it out, not in his frozen state. When would he be free of it? When would he ever be free?

Just as he felt ready to open his mouth in a silent scream, he suddenly heard a faint sound in the distance, so small and gentle that he could scarcely make it out over the throbbing in his head. But then it came closer, so close that he almost felt it brushing against his cheek in a delicate caress. It was the flutter of dainty wings, like those of a dove.

His little dove.

The longing in his chest at that sweet sound was enough to propel him forward, to unlock him from the invisible chains that kept him bound and let loose the strong limbs that had been held captive in his mind.

“Sabina!” Gallus cried out, sitting up suddenly and reaching out—but grasping nothing.

Blinking painfully against the early morning light that filtered into his cell, he turned his head slowly and let out a grunt of pain at the stiffness in his shoulder.

As he blinked slowly a few more times and shook his head to clear the fog from his mind, Gallus took stock of his surroundings and remembered where he was. He wasn’t in the arena at all, but on the hard packed earthen floor of his cell, where he’d evidently fallen into an unhappy sleep after the overwhelming events of the previous night. Glancing downward, he realized that he was still clutching the carving you’d gifted him in one hand, the oak wood leaving a firm impression against his scarred palm.

And that’s when it all came flooding back—the banquet, the way those filthy men had dared to put their hands on you, Atticus’ threats, the tears you had shed for him. He closed his eyes against the memory of your confusion and pain when he’d thrown you out of this very cell, everything he’d ever wanted slipping through his fingers because it was the only way he knew how to keep you safe.

His own broken heart was a price he was willing to pay to ensure that no harm befell you. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Shuddering, Gallus swallowed deeply and realized he could still taste the salt from his dream. Had it been a dream at all? Or was it just the taste of the fruitless tears he’d shed until exhaustion had finally claimed him sometime before dawn?

Rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders, his ears perked up when he registered the fact that the taste of salt wasn’t the only thing he’d carried over from his dreams. The pounding that had haunted him persisted, though he quickly became aware that it wasn’t the wild stampeding of the crowd, but a fist pummeling his door with single-minded determination.

Groaning under his breath, he felt his bones creak and could hear his joints pop as he slowly rose from the floor, setting the carving down on his small table before gingerly stepping towards the door, apprehensive about who he would find on the other side.

He was only mildly surprised to see an irate Phoenix standing on the threshold of his cell.

“What did you do?” she hissed, shoving one hard finger into his chest as she forced her way into his room without invitation.

Gallus had seen Phoenix this angry before, but it had never been directed at him. It was usually their masters who garnered this much fury from his raven-haired friend. Sighing deeply, he closed the door behind her, quickly glancing from side to side to make sure no one had observed her arrival.

“Phoenix, listen—”

“Don’t you, ‘Phoenix, listen’ me!” she growled, crossing her arms over her chest and planting herself in the center of the room, glaring up at him. She looked immovable, a fierce force of nature the likes of which even a seasoned gladiator might hesitate to go up against. He would be proud of her if it weren’t for the fact that he was also mildly terrified.

“What did you do?” she demanded, repeating her question from when she’d first arrived. “Do you know Sabina came back to the villa in tears last night? I could barely get her to speak at first. I thought for sure something terrible had happened to her, that one of Atticus’ disgusting friends had—” She shook her head, clearly unable to even finish speaking the thought aloud.

Gallus was glad for that, for he suddenly felt bile rising in his throat at the mere thought of any man laying his hands on you against your will. He would kill anyone who tried.

“Phoenix,” he began again, the pitiful remains of his heart breaking at the vision her words conjured up, the idea of your tears too much for him to bear.

“How could you do that to her, Gallus? How?” Phoenix pressed, her cheeks growing red from her mounting frustration. “Do you have any idea how humiliated she is? How ashamed? She said she doesn’t even know how she can return to the ludus again, how she could ever face you after last night. She took a chance, opening herself up to you like that, and you just threw her away. How could you do that?!”

“Phoenix, there are things you don’t understand,” he replied, trying to hide the panic that stirred in his chest at the thought of you never returning to the ludus, of never getting to see you again.

“Then make me understand!” she exploded, lunging forward and shoving at him with both hands, causing him to lose his footing and stumble back a step or two. “Because I know that you care for Sabina, Gallus! I know you, and I know that you have never felt for anybody what you feel for her! So make me understand how you could reject her and break her heart when she offered it to you on a golden platter.”

Her last words were spoken so quietly, yet seemed to steal all the air out of the room.

“Atticus knows,” Gallus told her flatly, his expression as stoic as ever in an attempt to mask the turmoil that was roiling inside him.

“What?” Phoenix gasped, taking a step back as her mouth fell open in shock, some of the rigidity melting away from her posture.

“He knows what Sabina means to me. You know him, Phoenix. You know what a wily bastard he is,” he went on, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “He figured it out even before the banquet. He tried to offer Sabina to me as a—a concubine,” he confessed, swallowing back the distaste that burned in the back of his throat.

Phoenix’s dark eyes widened, her fingers instinctively curling into fists at the thought of Atticus thinking he could turn you out like some kind of whore. What was worse was knowing that he could, and that he could do the same to her on a whim. Not only would neither of you ever be free, but you would never be safe either, not in the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus.

“I knew he was testing me. After all this time, Atticus knows that I want nothing to do with the women he tries to force into my bed. But I still fell into his trap anyway. I couldn’t—I couldn’t let him talk about her like that. I couldn’t let him threaten to hurt her,” Gallus murmured, hanging his head in shame that he hadn’t been smart enough to protect you right from the start. “And then last night at the banquet—I couldn’t let those pigs get away with treating her like that. I would do it again, no matter what Atticus did to me.”

“What did Atticus do to you?” Phoenix asked, her voice softer this time as she stepped closer to her oldest friend, reaching up and brushing a gentle hand against the bruise forming just beneath his eye.

He turned his face away, his jaw ticking as Atticus’ words from last night flooded back into his mind. “It doesn’t matter what he did to me. I can take his abuse. He’s not as strong as he likes to think he is,” he muttered, trying not to think about the pain that had exploded beneath his eye when their master’s signet ring had collided with his cheek.

Phoenix was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she stared up at him and waited for him to turn back and meet her eye. “But that wasn’t all he did, was it?” she questioned, already knowing the answer.

Gallus shook his head miserably, taking a deep breath as he stepped away from her and lowered himself down on the edge of his bed, burying his head in his hands. He remained silent, even as the bed dipped beside him and he felt one of Phoenix’s cool, soothing hands come to rest on his back in a comforting fashion.

“Talk to me,” she whispered, feeling the torment that hovered above him like a storm cloud as keenly as a summer rain soaking her skin. “What did Atticus do?”

When he finally lifted his head to look at her, it was with an expression so broken that he didn’t know how he had managed to make it this far without crumbling to pieces on the floor. “He threatened to hurt her, Phoenix. He threatened to hurt Sabina.”

She knew what his response would be before he even uttered the words, but the reality of the situation still slapped her in the face anyway, more brutal than even Aurelia’s abuse. Phoenix bit back the sob she felt rising in her throat, giving Gallus the space he needed to continue speaking.

“He reminded me that she is his property,” he spat out bitterly, digging his fingernails into his thighs and not even registering the pain. “That Sabina is his to do with as he pleases, and that if I ever dare to step out of line again or go against him in any way, he’ll beat her within an inch of her life and make me watch,” he continued, his voice catching despite himself.

“Oh, Gallus!” Phoenix cried out, wrapping her arms around him and hiding her face against his shoulder to try to mask her own tears.

“You would think it couldn’t get any worse than that, but remember that this is Atticus we’re talking about,” he went on, his utter hatred for his master evident in the way he practically snarled his name. “He also threatened to sell Sabina to the nearest brothel he could find.” His voice grew cold as he repeated Atticus’ threat from last night. He would burn Rome herself to the ground before he allowed that to happen to you.

Phoenix let out a soft gasp, horrified at the mere thought of such a cruel fate befalling you. You were too gentle, too good, too pure. You would never survive a punishment such as that.

“So you see? She’s in danger, Phoenix, and it’s all because of me,” he said miserably, the wounds in his heart being torn open anew as he contemplated the truth that his love and affection for you were what had put a target on your back.

“Hey,” Phoenix replied instantly, sliding off his bed and rising to stand in front of him, placing both hands firmly on his shoulders. “Hey, look at me,” she demanded, waiting until Gallus slowly lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. Setting her face like stone, she told him, “Sabina is not in danger because of you. Any danger she may be in is because of Atticus and his sick, twisted mind. Do you hear me?” She shook his shoulders slightly, as if to emphasize her question.

“Atticus would never have set his sights on her if it weren’t for me. He’s doing this to torment me, Phoenix. So it is my fault,” he argued, shrugging her hands off his shoulders irritably and rising as well, pacing around his cell like a caged lion—or a wolf, as you had so aptly described him. “That’s why I need to keep Sabina as far away from me as possible. If there’s nothing between us, then Atticus has no reason to harm her,” he rationalized, trying to convince himself as much as Phoenix.

To his surprise, Phoenix scoffed in response, crossing her arms once more. “Oh, how noble of you.”

He stared at her, taken aback. “Phoenix—”

“So you think that denying Sabina—denying yourself—any scrap of happiness you might possibly be able to cling to in this miserable place is the right thing to do? Breaking her heart and making her believe you care nothing for her is the best course of action?” Her voice started to rise slightly as her temper grew hotter. “You do realize that we’re all slaves, right? We will always be at the mercy of Atticus and Aurelia and their capricious moods! Who’s to say that Atticus wouldn’t find some other reason to torment Sabina that had nothing to do with you? We both know full well that Aurelia takes great pleasure in making her life a misery. What’s to stop her husband from doing the same? But where she might at least have been able to find a moment’s comfort in your arms, now she’s left feeling even more alone than ever before! Did you think of that when you were trying to play the martyr? Did you?”

Gallus turned away from Phoenix’s barrage of words, overcome by the sense in them and not wanting to face it. She was right, and he knew it. It was nothing but foolishness that would have made him believe he had any sort of power to protect you. That was what was so maddening about all of this. No matter what he did, he could never truly ensure your safety. The reality of it was enough to drive him to insanity.

“Why didn’t you tell Sabina the truth?” Phoenix further pressed him, not letting him off the hook and not allowing him a moment to breathe. “She’s not a child, Gallus. You could have explained to her what was really going on. Don’t you trust her?”

“Of course I do!” he exploded, dragging his hands down his face and trembling with the desire to smash his other stool against the wall, the way he had done to its twin last night. “Of course I trust her! But I wanted to protect her! I wanted to shield her from whatever savagery I could. She’s already experienced so much evil. Why cause her any more heartache if I could avoid it? Why make her live in fear every day?”

“But you didn’t let her make that choice for herself! You took it upon yourself to make it for her!” she snapped back. “So what makes you any different than Atticus or any other master she’s ever had?”

His blood ran cold at her words. It was true. What did make him any better than any other man who had claimed you as his property? For as long as you had been enslaved, your life had not been your own. There was no decision that you were free to make for yourself. Save one, perhaps—no one could truly tell you who to love. But Gallus had taken that freedom from you as well. He had denied you the chance to choose him, to decide that you were willing to pursue whatever this thing was between the two of you, no matter the risk. He had determined that he knew better, and he had broken your heart in the process.

How could he ever hope for you to forgive him?

“What have I done?” he groaned, stumbling towards the table pressed up against his wall and spreading his large hands out to catch himself. His head hung low and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if by doing so he could shut out the catastrophe he had created.

“There’s still time to fix it,” Phoenix reassured him, moving beside him and resting a hand on his arm. She paused a moment before saying, “The games begin today.” He didn’t fail to notice the fear in her eyes as she uttered those words. “You need to have a clear head when you’re fighting in the arena. You have to speak to Sabina and make things right with her before you go.”

“She won’t want to see me,” Gallus said quietly, staring at the carving that sat atop the table. Your gift seemed to silently taunt him, to remind him of all that could have been his, had he not so foolishly thrown it all away. He wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see him again. He had hurt you badly. He had never deserved you to begin with. “You said it yourself, she doesn’t ever want to step foot in the ludus again.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to Sabina,” Phoenix insisted, looking newly determined. “I’ll make sure she gets here before you all leave for the games. Just make sure you tell her the truth.”

As she spun around to leave, her dark braid nearly whipping him in the face, Gallus reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could go. “Phoenix?”

She turned to look up at him expectantly.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, squeezing her hand. He had never been very good at voicing his feelings aloud or expressing himself, but he hoped she knew how much he treasured her friendship, and all the ways he was grateful for her.

As if reading his thoughts, Phoenix beamed up at him. “Hey, what are friends for?”

Before he could stop her a second time, she was out the door in a flash, looking eager as ever to complete this new mission she’d assigned herself. He knew that if Phoenix had set her mind to bringing you here, she would find a way to make it happen. But the thought filled him with nerves greater than those that normally assailed him on the day of an appearance in the Colosseum.

What would he say to you? How could he make you understand? Would you even want to listen to him? Would you want anything to do with him after how he had treated you last night?

Knowing it was a poor idea to just pace in his cell for hours, awaiting your arrival, he dropped down to the ground and began a series of push-ups, trying to clear his mind of everything beyond his impending fight this afternoon. After all, it wouldn’t matter much if you forgave him if he was dead before sundown.

Gritting his teeth, sweat pouring off his face, Gallus pulsed his strong body up and down, up and down, up and down, your face the only thing he could conjure up in his mind’s eye.

You couldn’t believe Phoenix had convinced you to do this.

All of last night, and well into the early hours of the morning, your eyes had poured out an ocean of sorrow, your heart aching with the pain and humiliation of Gallus’ rejection. You’d hardly slept at all, and it showed in your puffy, red-rimmed gaze.

You hadn’t gone to Gallus’ cell last night with the intention of throwing yourself into his arms like some lovesick puppy. You truly had been afraid for him when Atticus dragged him out of the banquet after the scene he’d made, and you just wanted to check on him and make sure he was safe. But there was something about the way he held you, the roughness of his demeanor belying the gentleness of his fingers as he brushed away your tears. And when he ran that calloused thumb across your lips, you thought you might truly melt into a puddle at his feet. There was something in his eyes, something in his touch, something in the way the very air between the two of you crackled with the heat of a summer storm. You had been so sure that he felt it, too, that thing that existed between the two of you that you could not name. So you’d taken a chance and opened yourself up to him in a way you had never done before. Everything you had to offer—your mind, your body, your heart—they were all his for the taking.

But you were wrong. Gallus didn’t want you. That’s why he’d told you to leave. He was probably embarrassed for you, the mousy little slave girl who thought Rome’s champion would actually want her. He could have any woman he wanted—the most beautiful courtesans in Rome would fall at his feet. What would he want with you?

That’s why you hadn’t argued or tried to plead your case when he’d tossed you out of his cell last night. Attempting to piece together the shredded remains of your dignity, you’d simply turned and fled into the night, barely making it out of the ludus before the tears started to fall.

Phoenix had been out of her mind with worry when you finally returned to the female slave quarters, her dark eyes wild with fright when she caught sight of your disheveled, hysterical state. It took a few moments and several deep breaths before you were finally able to assure her that none of Atticus’ guests had accosted you. But when you eventually were able to explain to her the real cause of your tears, embarrassment and shame tingeing every word you whispered, her worry turned to shock, which was quickly replaced by anger.

“He’s an idiot!” she seethed, wrapping her arms around you and stroking your back as you continued to cry. “I’ll talk some sense into him.”

“Phoenix, no!” you gasped, practically choking on your tears as you tried to keep your voice down. “That will only be even more humiliating! He doesn’t want me, don’t you see? We’ll just leave it at that. Oh, but how am I ever supposed to return to the ludus after this?” you whimpered, covering your face with your hands. “I’m so ashamed!”

“You have nothing to be ashamed about,” Phoenix told you sternly, pulling your hands away from your face. “I’m the one who should be ashamed for calling such a fool my friend. There has to be an explanation for his behavior, Sabina. Trust me,” she said, brushing your tears away with her fingertips.

Not wanting to prolong the conversation, you just curled up on your sleeping mat and closed your eyes, although the tears just kept spilling down your cheeks until you could taste the salt at the corners of your mouth.

You must have slept a little bit, because when you awoke just as the first hints of dawn were beginning to break through the small window in your quarters, you rolled over and found that Phoenix was already up and gone. Your stomach sank sharply. You truly hoped she wasn’t off to talk to Gallus as she had threatened.

With the villa already a flurry of activity, you didn’t have much time to dwell on it. Rising and dressing quickly, you grabbed a piece of stale bread from the kitchen before you set about cleaning up the evidence of your masters’ disastrous banquet. Most guests hadn’t left until the early hours of the morning, and in the bright light of day, it became apparent just how much carousing and revelry had gone on the night before.

Atticus and Aurelia seemed to be sleeping off their hangovers, which at least meant that you and the other household slaves could go about your chores in peace, for a few hours anyway. You spent most of the early morning helping clean the gardens, which had apparently been the chosen destination for more than a few rendezvous last night. By the time Phoenix found you, you were on your hands and knees, scrubbing the mosaic tiles of the fountain Dominus had just installed a month ago. It was of the Roman hero Hercules, and you suddenly found yourself unable to look at it. Just a few weeks earlier, you had smiled to yourself, thinking how much it resembled Gallus.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Phoenix exclaimed, dropping down to her knees beside you and grabbing a spare rag so that she could help you.

“It’s been a busy morning,” you murmured softly, turning your face slightly to try to hide your puffy eyes from your friend.

Phoenix, however, was no fool. Reaching out, she rested one hand on your shoulder and waited until you finally looked at her. “I spoke to Gallus.”

“Phoenix!”

“I had to! If nothing else, he deserved a good tongue lashing for the way he treated you last night,” she replied stubbornly, returning to her task and scrubbing at a particularly pesky stain.

When she said nothing else, your curiosity got the best of you and you bit your tongue before asking, “And? What happened?”

“Ah, so you do care,” Phoenix winked, her eyes twinkling as she nudged you teasingly.

“Phoenix!”

“Alright, alright,” she said, throwing up her hands in surrender. “As I suspected, he had his reasons for doing what he did last night. I don’t necessarily agree with them, and I told him so, but I promise you that his intentions were good.”

Your stomach fluttered at her words, but you tamped down foolish hope before it had a chance to grow wings.

“What were they?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though you both knew you were anything but.

Phoenix shook her head, which caused your pulse to quicken nervously. “He has to be the one to tell you that, Sabina. He assured me that he would.”

“But, Phoenix!” you argued, running a clammy hand down your face. “I—I can’t! I can’t go back there and face him, not after everything—”

“Sabina,” Phoenix interrupted, pulling your hand away from your face and squeezing it tightly. “He’s going to be leaving in a few hours for the Colosseum. This may very well be—well—you don’t know what the Fates have in store,” she said, her voice much more subdued and her expression suddenly downcast. “You don’t want to have any regrets that you didn’t set things right between the two of you before he goes. Trust me. Just go talk to him. Please.”

As terrified as you were about the prospect of facing Gallus again after all that had transpired, you were even more terrified at the prospect of letting him leave without saying goodbye, knowing that it was possible you would never set eyes on him again in the land of the living. The thought alone made you feel ill.

So that was how, once the gardens and the fountains were cleaned, you had somehow ended up trailing behind Phoenix on your way to the ludus once more.

Neither of you spoke as you walked behind your friend, nervously twisting your sweaty palms in the folds of your tunic. You hadn’t felt this afraid to enter the gladiator training grounds since that first day that Titus had asked you to assist him. The day you met Gallus for the first time.

As you came closer to the training arenas, you realized that the ludus was a hive of activity. With it being the first day of the summer games, everyone was in a frantic rush to get everything ready for the transport to the Colosseum. You and Phoenix were able to slip by most of the men without attracting any sort of attention.

That was, anyway, until you began to approach the Pugiones’ training grounds.

“Ladies! Come to wish us luck?” Caius called out, grinning broadly as he flexed his muscles just for show. “Apollo already beat you to it,” he added with a chuckle, indicating the little orange cat who was currently rubbing up against his ankle.

He was standing with Pollux and Felix, but the other Pugiones were nowhere in sight.

“Of course,” Phoenix grinned in return, taking your hand as she pulled you over to where your friends were standing. “We couldn’t let you leave without wishing you all the best.”

“Are you alright, Sabina?” Felix asked in concern, noting the wan expression on your face despite your best attempts to mask it.

Caius and Pollux both turned in your direction, looking equally concerned.

They were off to put their lives on the line in the Colosseum and they were worried about you? The thought alone was enough to make you want to curl up and weep. But you didn’t. Instead, you straightened your spine and forced what you hoped was a calm and reassuring smile onto your face.

“Of course,” you fibbed, nodding your head slowly. “Just a bit tired after last night. I’ve never served at a banquet quite like that before.” It wasn’t totally a lie.

“Don’t remind us,” Pollux sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. “Of course Atticus couldn’t let the evening pass without trying to put on a show. But it looks like Gallus bested him at his own game,” he added, the men sharing pointed looks with one another before turning back to you and Phoenix.

“I’ve never seen him lose control like that before. At least, not outside of the arena,” Felix said, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry before either.” He shot you a sideways glance before continuing, “I heard him last night, in his room. It sounded like he was trying to turn every piece of furniture he owns into firewood.”

Caius and Pollux grimaced, but said nothing.

His words instantly caught your attention, however. All of Gallus’ furniture had been perfectly intact when you arrived at his cell last night. Had he started destroying things after you left? But if so, why?

Phoenix glanced at you knowingly before reaching down to scratch Apollo behind the ears. “See? He knew enough to come back to wish you boys luck before you leave. Not that you’ll need it. You’re the best of the best. You always come home.”

Her words hung in the air as the five of you looked at one another, no one wanting to admit out loud that it was a very real possibility that someone—maybe more than one someone—wouldn’t be coming home tonight.

“You’re all going to be great,” she went on, clearing her throat as if to dislodge the emotion that had suddenly wedged itself there. “The people love you. Give them a show, and then come back in one piece, will you?” Avoiding eye contact, she quickly wrapped each of them in a hug before stepping back.

“Good luck, boys,” you told them, not trusting yourself to say much more for fear that you would break down crying. Following Phoenix’s lead, you gave each of them a hug before stepping back and quickly wiping away a traitorous tear at the corner of your eye.

Caius, Pollux, and Felix all cleared their throats as well, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Well, we’d better finish getting ourselves prepared. We’ll see you both tonight,” Pollux told you, emphasizing his last statement to let you both know that none of them had any intentions of losing today.

As the trio walked away, Phoenix sighed softly and turned to look at you. She bit her lip, glancing over both shoulders before whispering, “I’m going to try to say goodbye to Carnifex. I’ll meet you back here, okay?”

You simply nodded in response, for your mouth suddenly felt as dry as sand. You glanced over your friend’s shoulder in the direction of Gallus’ cell, but your feet felt rooted to the ground.

“Hey,” Phoenix murmured gently, reaching out to take hold of both your hands. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.” She gave you one last squeeze of reassurance before nudging you in the direction of Gallus’ room, her own path diverging as she headed towards Carnifex’s.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other, your body moving as if of its own accord until you were finally standing outside of the cell that you had run from not very many hours before. Your stomach flopped anxiously as you lifted a hand to knock, hurt and humiliation and fear and worry all roiling together inside you like the stew that Alba was always stirring over the hearth fire. Before you could think better of it, you rapped a couple times on the door, pulling your hand back as though it had burned you.

It seemed to take an eternity, and you were about ready to turn and flee once more when the door suddenly swung open and you were standing face to face with the man who had stolen your heart, much as he evidently would have preferred not to.

Just as it had the night before, the air between you seemed to crackle like Jupiter’s thunderbolts. Your breath got caught in your throat as you gazed up at this giant of a man who made it so difficult to think straight whenever he was near. He looked dressed for battle, and you realized you had never before seen him in his full regalia for a bout in the Colosseum. With his leg greaves, armguard, and protective belt, and his shoulder-length hair tied back from his face, he looked every inch the mighty Hercules, ready to slay the Nemean lion.

You were embarrassed to realize you were staring, mouth slightly agape, but that was when it dawned on you that he was staring, too. His dark eyes, which looked almost golden in the midmorning light, were wide as he gazed down at you, one of his large hands, which had cradled you so tenderly last night, gripping the door frame as if for dear life, his scarred knuckles turning white from the effort.

Your heart skipped a few beats when it struck you that you had no idea what to say to him. In all the time you had been growing closer to him, that had never been a problem, but now your brain couldn’t think of one logical or reasonable thing to say. The only thing that came out of your mouth was a small and hesitant, “Hi.”

It seemed as though he had been holding his breath, for he suddenly let out a long sigh, his chest heaving slightly as he continued to look at you. “Hi,” he rasped, lowering his hand to his side. That was when you noticed the bruises and cuts that you were fairly certain hadn’t been there the day before, and were once again reminded of Felix’s words.

Not knowing what else to do, you looked back up at his face and said, “Phoenix said that I should come talk to you.”

Was it your imagination or did he deflate slightly, his shoulders stooping somewhat as he nodded in response? Had he been hoping you would come see him of your own accord?

“Yes, of course. I know how persuasive she can be,” he replied, one corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile as he attempted to lighten the mood. When he saw that your expression didn’t change, however, his smile fell. “Would you like to come in?”

You hesitated, not confident you had it in you to cross that threshold again.

“Please, Sabina,” he begged earnestly, leaning towards you, but then thinking better of it and stepping back again. “There’s no excuse for how I treated you last night. For what I did. But I’d like to try to explain it to you. I don’t want to lose—to lose you. Please?”

Something in his voice, in the genuineness of his expression, compelled you, and you nodded, stepping into his room and glancing around slowly as he closed the door behind you.

In the corner of the room was a mound of broken bits of wood that had been swept together in one neat pile. Your eyes flickered towards the table where you and Gallus had often passed a meal together, and your mind registered the fact that there was now only one stool residing beneath it. But there, at the center of the table, sat the small carving that you had bought him in the Forum—the wolf and the dove. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Turning, you found that Gallus’ tormented eyes were fixed on you, his gaze flicking quickly towards the carving before landing back on you once more.

“Sabina,” Gallus began slowly, his voice thick and heavy, draping around you like a blanket in the tight confines of his cell. It had never felt as small as it did at that moment.

“I’m sorry, Gallus,” you interjected, unable to bear the awkwardness any longer. “I’m sorry about last night. I presumed too much, and you were right to turn me away. We don’t need to speak about it again, and I promise that I will remember my place from now on.”

He let out a loud breath in the silence that followed, as if he had just been punched in the gut. “You’re—what? You’re sorry?” he repeated incredulously, his eyes going wide once again. It took him a moment to fully process your words, but then he was shaking his head and stepping closer to you. “Sabina, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. I’m the one who needs to be apologizing to you. I treated you abominably last night. I hurt you, even though that is truly the last thing on earth I ever wanted to do.”

With each statement, he drew closer to you, but you could tell his movements were slow and intentional. He didn’t want you to feel caged. He made sure there was space for you to move away from him, if you so chose. But you made the choice to remain rooted in place as he approached.

“I didn’t want to turn you away,” he confessed quietly, just a handbreadth away from you now. Your breath intermingled as he angled his face downward, capturing your gaze with his own. He lifted one hand, painfully slow, and ghosted it against your cheek as he whispered, his voice husky, “And you presumed nothing.”

Your heart began racing at his words, at his touch, at the nearness of him. It felt as though your body was physically aching with need for him, but you were frozen. This was almost the same situation you had been in last night, but it had ended so disastrously then.

“Why?” you breathed out, your hands tentatively reaching out to rest against his bare chest. You could feel his body go taut beneath your palms, his throat tightening as he stared at you. “Why did you make me leave if you didn’t want me to?”

You wanted so desperately to understand.

“Sabina,” he said your name again, so reverently it almost sounded like the prayers of the priests as they made their offerings to the gods. “There—there’s so much I want to tell you. There’s so much I need you to understand,” he told you, looking like a desperate man as he cradled your face in his hands, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“I want to understand, Gallus,” you whispered in return, closing your eyes and breathing in the scent of his skin. You wanted to commit it to memory forever. “Please, whatever it is, just tell me. Help me understand,” you pleaded.

“You have to know—”

His words were suddenly interrupted by the sharp blare of a horn blasting outside.

Startled, the both of you turned towards the door, Gallus still holding your face between his hands. His gaze darkened as he glared forward.

“It’s time for us to go,” he stated, a sense of defeat in his tone as he turned back to you. “Atticus can’t catch you in here,” he added, a strain of something else—fear?—marking his words.

“Gallus, please, talk to me. Tell me, whatever it is,” you begged, tears stinging your eyes at the thought of having to say goodbye to him now, with so much still left unsaid between you.

“There’s no time,” Gallus murmured regretfully, sounding near tears himself. He caressed your cheek lightly as he leaned in, your foreheads touching as they had before. “We’ll talk…when I get back. I promise.”

“Come back,” you begged, taking one of his large hands between both of your own and squeezing tightly. “Please come back to me.”

“I will always come back for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “Go, now, before anyone sees. I’ll see you tonight. I promise.”

“Goodbye, Gallus,” you breathed out, wrapping him in a tight embrace before tearing yourself away and making for the door.

You were nearly out of hearing range when the words, “Goodbye, little dove,” floated past your ears.

Fighting hard not to break down weeping, you ran to find Phoenix.

Phoenix was finding it shockingly difficult to keep from weeping herself as she stood in the center of Carnifex’s cell, wrapped in her lover’s embrace as the two of them silently held one another.

She hadn’t intended to stay long. She had only wanted to wish him luck and say a quick farewell before the men were trundled off to the Colosseum, but Carnifex had other plans.

“There you are,” he’d murmured when she slipped into his cell, rising from the edge of his bed and wasting no time in taking her into his arms, his kiss as hungry as it always was—even more so, perhaps.

“There isn’t time,” she had scolded him, slapping his hands away as he began fumbling with the ties of her tunic. “And besides, that isn’t how you should be spending your energy right now.”

“Ah, and are you my lanista now?” he teased, honoring her wishes and opting for running his fingers through her hair instead. She’d worn it loose to come see him, knowing how much he loved to play with her long, dark locks.

“I should be, considering I seem to know just the way to tame you, stubborn beast that you are,” she smirked, wrapping her arms around his muscular shoulders and kissing him again. “I can’t stay long,” she added a moment later, lowering her feet to the floor and releasing him from her hold. “I just came to say—”

“Don’t leave yet,” Carnifex interrupted, his tone urgent, desperate even. “Please. Stay. Just for a few moments longer.”

“Carnifex,” Phoenix murmured, biting her lower lip as she glanced over her shoulder. “If anyone catches me in here…”

“Let them catch you!” His words burst forth as impetuously as a child’s.

This man. He would be the death of her.

“How could you say something like that?” she demanded hotly, her frustration matched only by her infuriating affection for this impossible gladiator. Forcing a calming breath out of her lungs, she moved closer to him and took his face between her hands, looking deeply into eyes so green, they reminded her of the seafoam back home. “You know what would happen if we were found out. What Aurelia and Atticus are capable of. Do not tempt them, or the gods, with your arrogance.”

“I would defy all the gods for just a few more moments with you,” he insisted, his hands coming to rest on her hips as he drew her in closer and pressed hot kisses to her neck.

“Then you are a fool!” she snapped, angrily pushing him away and turning her back on him. “I knew this was a mistake!”

He was silent behind her, and regret filled her veins at the harshness of her tone.

“Carnifex,” she murmured, spinning back to face him once more. Her heart was pierced by the look of hurt on his face, the look that he did nothing to try to mask.

Stepping closer to her, until they were no more than a breath apart, Carnifex stared down at her, his expression inscrutable as his light eyes bore into her dark ones.

“Would you miss me?” he asked, his voice giving nothing away.

“What?” she asked, shaking her head and trying to back away from him. “Stop it.”

“Answer the question, Phoenix,” he demanded, matching her step for step. “Would you miss me? Do you care what happens to me in the arena?”

“What kind of question is that?” she huffed, growing more frazzled by the second. She had just come to wish him luck and to see him off. What was all this?

“A question you still haven’t answered,” he shot back pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing to stare her down. “Well?”

“Of course I do!” Phoenix exploded, running her fingers through her hair like a madwoman. “How could you even ask me that? Why do you think I’m here?!”

“Why are you here, Phoenix?” Carnifex pressed, arching a brow coolly.

“Because I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye! Is that what you want to hear?” she practically shouted, for once not caring who heard them. “Because my heart is breaking at the thought of you walking through those gates and never returning, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let you go without seeing you one last time!” Her chest was heaving as she battled the force of her own emotions, wanting to both claw and kiss him at the same time.

Carnifex made that decision for her, easily closing the gap between them as he lifted her into his arms and engulfed her in a kiss so hungry, so forceful, so tender that for a moment, she lost all sense of time and space.

Burying her fingers in his hair and wrapping her legs around his waist, she kissed him back with equal fervor, the two of them devouring one another as if it was their last meal on earth.

“Phoenix,” he groaned against her lips, gripping her body tightly and molding it to his. “Oh, Phoenix.” He never wanted to forget the feeling of her pressed against him.

There were no more words left to say as she silently slid back to the floor, her arms still wrapped tightly around him while he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, that hair that forever reminded him of ravens and the darkness of night.

They held each other like that for what could have been minutes or hours. Neither of them were quite sure. But when the blast of the horn signaling the men’s departure broke through the shield of their private haven, they slowly broke apart, their eyes trained on each other’s faces.

“Just come back, you hear me?” she told him, forcing herself to maintain a stiff upper lip. “Preferably in one piece so that Titus and I don’t have to spend all night stitching you back together.”

Carnifex couldn’t help but chuckle at that. No one could accuse his Phoenix of being a soft woman.

His Phoenix. When exactly had she become his Phoenix? Was she really his?

“I’ll come back. I always do,” he assured her with a wink, giving her one last kiss before walking towards the door. He told himself that he could leave without looking back, but his head turned of its own accord when he reached the threshold.

He would carry the image of her, standing with that raven hair loose and wild about her shoulders, with him into battle today and all the days of his life.

Once he was gone, Phoenix waited a few moments before slipping out of his cell, each step she took feeling more painful than the last as she fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

She didn’t have to go far before she found you hidden behind a lavender bush near the break between the ludus and the villa, wiping tears off your cheeks and making a brave effort to compose yourself.

“Oh, my sweet friend,” she murmured in understanding, sitting down on the ground beside you and wrapping you in her arms. “They’re going to come back,” she promised. “They will.”

Even as she said the words, she knew they rang hollow. What did she know? How could she make such promises?

She couldn’t.

Like you, all Phoenix could do was sit and watch as the men were loaded up and carted away, being shipped off to an uncertain fate in which the odds were most certainly not stacked in their favor.

Swallowing back the bitterness and the fear that threatened to consume her, she clung to you and whispered over and over again, “They’re coming back.”

The insatiable roar of the crowd pounded in his head, rattling his bones and beating like a drum in his bloodstream.

This time, however, it wasn’t a dream.

They roared his name, those bloodthirsty Romans who hadn’t been satiated by the hours upon hours of beast hunts, public executions, and brutal gladiator matches they’d already witnessed.

Nothing would ever satisfy them, Gallus realized. No matter how this match ended today, they’d still come back tomorrow, braying for more blood to be spilled across the sands of the arena. They were the most soulless people he had ever encountered. There was nothing honorable about death in the Colosseum, about men who were stripped of all means of protection and devoured by feral lions and tigers, about prisoners of war shrieking for mercy as they were hacked to pieces or torn limb from limb, about slaves who were pitted against one another and forced to kill just for the chance to see another day, when they’d be forced to do it all over again. And all for the entertainment of the thousands of people who surrounded him now, their ugly faces red and puckered as they screamed for violence and bloodshed.

The Romans called his people the barbarians, but he had never known a more barbaric people in his life.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, making it even harder to see beneath the bronze helmet that hindered his peripheral vision. As the pounding in his head intensified, Gallus gripped his sword all the tighter, holding it out before him in a defensive gesture as he subtly adjusted his hold on the shield he carried.

His was the very last match of the day, the grand finale to wrap up the inaugural day of the summer games. He had spent all afternoon in agony, thinking of you and worrying about the fate of his friends. As the day wore on and he watched Caius, Pollux, Felix, and Carnifex each walk through the Door of Victory one by one, he was able to breathe a little easier. But it didn’t change the anxiety he felt about his own bout. Magnus had informed him upon their arrival that he had been paired to fight against Aengus, a Gallic gladiator who was thus far undefeated and growing in popularity.

There was once a time in his life when it didn’t matter to him who he was paired against. He cared very little whether he lived or died, so it mattered very little to him what his odds were of defeating his opponent. But now, for the first time, Gallus wanted very much to live. He wanted to leave the arena through the Door of Victory. If he didn’t, he would never get to see you again. And that was not an option.

Aengus had proven to be an admirable opponent indeed. The two of them had been battling for close to thirty minutes, with neither side making much headway. Domitian and all his sniveling cronies didn’t seem to mind, not so long as the gladiators they had paid for put on a good show. For it was only when the people grew bored that the emperor’s good will evaporated.

And there was nothing more dangerous for a gladiator than a foul-tempered emperor.

But Gallus and Aengus had been living up to their reputations as undefeated champions, prowling about one another in a dangerous dance as they lunged and parried, nicking flesh and targeting weak points, but never quite succeeding in bringing the other to his knees.

The deafening screams of the crowd smothered the heavy breathing of the two men fighting for their lives upon sand that had already devoured the blood and mangled flesh of countless beasts and men alike that day. The thought struck Gallus as he circled his enemy—no, not his enemy, just the man they would force him to kill if he ever had any hope of seeing you again—that this stadium had seen more brutality and death than many a battlefield.

And many of the men who had fallen here had fallen at his hands.

He could hear people shrieking his name, goading him on to victory and demanding that he finish his opponent off. His opponent—a man who, like him, had no say in becoming a murderer for sport. A man whose only crime was trying to stay alive.

He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t. Not now. He couldn’t look at Aengus and see the humanity in him. For if he did that, it would all be over. He might as well fold now and offer his throat up to the other man’s blade. He needed to be ruthless, to cut this enemy down with single-minded focus and determination. It was the only way.

He needed to do whatever it took to get back to you. He had promised he would always come back for you, and he wouldn’t break that vow.

Fueled by the need to get home to you—to explain everything to you as he had promised and make you understand—Gallus’ strength was suddenly renewed and he pounced at Aengus, bringing his sword down against the other man’s shield so roughly that he felt the force of it vibrating up his arm.

The people went wild, but he ignored them all. This wasn’t for them.

Aengus had taken a fair number of shots at him during the match, and his body was hurting, but as he observed his opponent carefully through slitted eyes, he realized that the Gallic gladiator was suffering more than he had initially thought. Though he masked it well, Aengus was favoring his left side and his chest was heaving erratically, indicating that his breathing was growing more labored as the match went on.

“Come on, barbarian!” Aengus called out tauntingly, waving his sword in the air, almost a bit impatiently. “Let’s finish this!”

Crouching down into an attack position, Gallus took his time, circling the other man slowly, his eyes never leaving his face. Perhaps this was what he needed. He could wait the other man out, draw on his impatience and force him to react impulsively. For in the arena, impulsivity often meant fatal mistakes.

The spectators were growing restless, buzzing with the need to see more blood spilled before they packed up and went home for the day. Their cries were growing manic, their feet and fists pounding as they howled for death.

Gallus thought only of you, and he waited.

His patience was finally rewarded as, growing frustrated by the lack of action, Aengus rushed at him, sword raised high even as his shield arm hung dangerously low. He let out a loud cry—what must have been the battle cry of his people—as he leapt at Gallus.

This was Gallus’ chance and he had to take it. He had spotted the chink in Aengus’ armor as they’d been circling one another, but he needed just the right moment to take advantage of it. And now, with the other man’s shield arm weakened, that moment had arrived. As Aengus ran at him, Gallus waited until the final second to lift his sword and plunge it into his opponent’s shoulder, severing bone and muscle as he did so.

Aengus roared in pain as he collapsed to his knees, somehow managing to remain upright even as Gallus pulled his sword out of his shoulder, soaked in the Gallic gladiator’s blood.

The crowd’s reaction reached a fever pitch, the people screaming for Gallus to finish him off, this undefeated champion who they had once cheered for.

He had never known a people so fickle as the Romans.

Gallus didn’t even look up at the emperor’s box, though at this point he knew Domitian must have been giving the people what they wanted and indicating the sign for death with his thumb.

It was time to finish this.

As he raised his sword, Aengus raised his head and met his eyes from behind his own helmet. “Do it,” he said stoically, staring death in the face without a hint of fear.

Swallowing, Gallus raised his sword and pointed it at Aengus’ exposed throat. The Romans loved a drawn out, torturous demise, but he knew he could end this man’s suffering in one fell swoop.

“You would be doing me a favor,” Aengus chuckled, tossing his own sword down onto the sand at Gallus’ feet. Pain flashed in his eyes as he told him, “I can be with my Clodagh again.”

Respect for this man flooded every fiber of Gallus’ being. He had fought well. He had fought nobly. And he was willing to face death like a true warrior. He had made his people proud.

“May your Clodagh be there to greet you,” Gallus murmured, thrusting his sword forward and turning away as the light went out of Aengus’ eyes.

Jaw tightening, he threw his helmet down to the ground and stormed towards the Door of Victory, refusing to meet the eye of the emperor or any of the tens of thousands who cheered his name and showered flowers and gifts down upon him.

He had lived to see another day, but as always, it was at the cost of another man’s life. This time, it was a man who had willingly succumbed to death so that he could be with his love again.

Your face, your beautiful, precious face, was the only thing on Gallus’ mind as he stalked down the tunnel towards where Magnus and the other Pugiones were waiting for him, clapping him on the back and welcoming his return.

They didn’t cheer him. They knew, as he did, that there was nothing to cheer for, much as the Romans may have disagreed. There was nothing but silent acknowledgement among all of them that they had lived once more, that the gods had not yet seen fit to cut their chords of life, and that they would be returning home together.

Home.

Gallus had never considered the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus to be home. He had never considered anywhere to be home after he was dragged away from the rolling hills of Britannia.

But as he climbed into the cart that would carry him in chains back to the villa of his master, he thought of you and for the first time since he’d stepped foot in Rome, he knew that he was going home.

All afternoon, you and Phoenix had been working side by side in silence, sick with worry and fruitlessly trying to avoid thinking of all that could be happening at the Colosseum.

Apollo, sweet creature that he was, seemed to sense your anxiety and kept curling up in your laps or against your sides as the two of you scrubbed the training weapons and washed and hung the laundry in the ludus.

At least Aurelia had gone to the games with Atticus, so you were left to work in relative peace.

You couldn’t eat, couldn’t speak, couldn’t concentrate or think straight. All you could do was wonder what it was that Gallus had wanted to tell you, and pray to every god you could think of that he would return safe and unharmed. The gods had never seemed to hear or care about your prayers, but you begged them all the same. It was the only thing you could think to do. You were powerless to do anything else.

The sun was well past its zenith and beginning to sink lower in the sky when Titus suddenly appeared, as if out of nowhere. He was panting slightly and running a hand through his thinning hair.

“They’re coming,” he told you and Phoenix, the both of you freezing in place. “I’ll need your help.”

He said nothing more as he turned on his heel and rushed back to the main gate of the ludus, which was opening now to welcome back the gladiators who had returned victorious.

You and Phoenix turned to look at each other, reaching out and squeezing each other’s hands, exchanging silent words of comfort and assurance before you hurried after the medicus.

Holding your breath, you stood silently and watched as the men filed back into the ludus one by one, appearing varying levels of exhausted and traumatized. Some were worse off than others, and you knew that Titus was already performing triage in his mind, determining who needed care more urgently, and who could wait a while longer. Your eyes flickered across each man’s face, taking in the newer gladiators your master had purchased, the ones who fought in the early afternoon as a sort of warm-up for the main events.

With a sinking feeling in your stomach, you realized that two men you had tended to recently, men who really couldn’t have been more than boys, were not among those who had returned. You blinked back tears and felt your throat constrict.

For the first time, you truly understood why Titus had warned you not to bother learning their names.

Phoenix reached out and grabbed onto your arm, her short fingernails digging into your skin as the newer recruits finished filing into the ludus, making way for the champions.

Felix was the first to emerge from the cart, followed quickly by Pollux and Caius. Your heart leapt with relief at the sight of your friend’s faces, but sank again when you did not immediately catch sight of Carnifex or Gallus.

You could tell that, like you, Phoenix was no longer breathing as the two of you stood waiting for what felt like an eternity, your eyes growing wide.

Just when you were certain your friend was going to unintentionally break your arm, Carnifex suddenly appeared, looking a bit tired, but altogether well. Phoenix let out a strangled breath beside you, easing her grip on your arm, but not letting go.

Your heart was hammering painfully inside your chest as you waited for him to appear. He had to be there. He had to be with them. The rest of the Pugiones had survived, and he was the very best of them. You felt hysteria bubbling up inside you, threatening to consume you, when all at once, there he was.

There he was.

He looked bone-tired, his strong body littered with superficial cuts and bruises, but he was alive. He was alive! He had come back, just as he promised.

It took everything in you to resist the urge to run to him and fling yourself into his arms. You wanted nothing more than to hold him, to see for yourself that he was truly whole and well.

You could tell that Phoenix was resisting that same urge as she bounced restlessly beside you, her eyes never leaving Carnifex’s face. He looked across the training grounds at her, and you swore you could have started a fire with the look that smoldered between them.

Cheeks growing warm, you turned away from the shockingly intimate moment and sought out the man who had captured your own heart. As your gaze roamed across the grounds, you were drawn instantly to him, like a moth to a flame. Your eyes landed on his handsome face, and you were somehow unsurprised to find that he was already looking at you.

Your heart grew wings, fluttering inside you as if it wanted to escape your chest.

The moment between you was broken, however, when Titus called out, “Girls, come! I need you!”

You had never considered yourself an impatient person, but the next few hours were torment for you as Titus put you and Phoenix to work, helping him tend to the worst of the men’s injuries. Unsurprisingly, the Pugiones had suffered minimal injuries which had mostly been dealt with at the Colosseum. They were sent to their cells with express orders to rest almost as soon as the medicus laid eyes on them. But you and Phoenix had to spend the majority of the evening cleaning and stitching deep wounds, setting broken fingers, and assessing the amount of internal injuries potentially impacting the greenest of Atticus’ gladiators.

By the time all was said and done, and Titus had dismissed you, you still had to return to the villa to avoid raising suspicion. Thankfully, Atticus and Aurelia were dining at the home of a wealthy acquaintance, which meant that you and Phoenix could quickly scarf down some dinner in the kitchen before slowly making your way back to the ludus.

It was startlingly quiet as you returned to the gladiator school. You didn’t think you had ever seen the grounds so abandoned, or heard such silence.

As you and Phoenix approached the men’s cells, she reached out to take your hand, smiling a bit impishly. “I’ll probably be a while tonight,” she admitted, not a hint of shame in her expression. “And I hope you will, too,” she added with a wink.

“Phoenix,” you mumbled in embarrassment, lowering your head as you felt your skin grow warm.

She laughed softly, wrapping you in a tight hug before turning towards Carnifex’s cell. “Good luck,” she whispered, disappearing in the blink of an eye. You had never known anyone as stealthy as your friend.

Taking a deep, calming breath, you ignored the fact that your hands and knees were trembling as you walked towards Gallus’ cell, seeing the tiny flicker of a flame glowing through his small window.

You had barely finished knocking, the sound so soft you weren’t even certain he would hear it, when his door suddenly swung open, his dark eyes looking wild as he gazed down at you.

“You came back,” you whispered, your eyes welling up with tears as you looked up at him.

In one fluid movement, Gallus reached out and took you into his arms, pulling you into his cell and shutting the door behind you. His embrace engulfed you, your cheek pressed against his chest as he held you close and buried his face in your hair.

Closing your eyes and taking a shuddering breath, you wrapped your arms around his middle and clung to him, silently thanking whatever gods had heard you for returning him to you.

When the two of you finally broke apart, arms still loosely wrapped around one another, you took a small step back so that you could gaze up at him once more. He was silent as you examined him, the light from the candle burning nearby illuminating his skin and casting a golden glow over his dark hair.

“I was afraid I would never see you again,” you confessed, your voice small as he reached up slowly to touch your cheek.

“You were the only thing on my mind all day today,” he replied, his rough fingertips somehow feeling so smooth against your skin. “It was the thought of you that brought me back.”

Squeezing your eyes shut at his admission, a few stray tears slid down your cheeks. “Gallus, I’m so confused,” you whispered hoarsely, the sting of his rejection from last night still burning a hole in your heart. “What—what is this between us?”

He sighed softly, reluctantly releasing you and taking a step back. “It’s my fault you’re confused. I—I thought that I was doing what was best, but I selfishly just can’t stay away from you,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he shook his head and turned to face the flickering candle, the light of which caught on the small carving of the wolf and the dove.

“I don’t want you to stay away from me,” you blurted out, stepping closer to him and reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “Gallus, please. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Help me understand.”

Gallus slowly turned to meet your eye, and you could see the full weight of his agony and fear. It was staggering in its intensity, and you found yourself trembling in response. But you held firm to his arm, showing him that you were not going to run away.

“Sabina,” he began quietly, his voice a desperate rasp between you. “Atticus is not a good man.”

You blinked slowly, your heart suddenly seizing with terror. What had Atticus done to him last night? And was it all because of you, because of what Gallus had done to defend you? You felt sick.

“What—what happened?” you asked softly, afraid to know, but also recognizing that it was the key to understanding Gallus’ actions last night.

Sighing again, a soul-deep sigh, Gallus leaned forward and rested his palms on the flat surface of the table. He was quiet for several minutes, but you stood beside him, patiently waiting.

“Sit down,” he told you gently, pulling out the one remaining stool and setting you down upon it carefully, making sure you were comfortable. He paused again before saying, “Atticus has always known that he hasn’t had anything to hold over my head, and it makes him crazy. I’ve never truly cared whether I lived or died, and there isn’t anything he can take from me that I haven’t lost already.”

You sat perched on the stool and listened to him carefully, still except for one hand nervously twisting in the folds of your tunic.

“He’s tried many times to lure me with gifts and rewards, trying to find some kind of weakness in me that he can exploit for whatever his purposes are. That’s what he does, Sabina. He watches people and he learns their weaknesses and he uses them against them.” He sighed again, running his hands through his hair as he clearly fought to continue on. “And I always thought that I was safe from all that, that there was no weakness he could find in me, nothing he could manipulate to get to me. But now there is,” he admitted, fixing his gaze on you slowly.

“What is it?” you asked, your pulse pounding in your veins.

“You.”

The word hung between the two of you, suspended as if in midair as your eyes widened and the truth of it etched itself across Gallus’ face.

“Atticus knows that I care for you, that I would sooner die than see any harm befall you. And after the stunt I pulled at the banquet last night—well, now there’s no denying it,” he grimaced.

“Oh, Gallus, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, feeling responsible for the turmoil he was facing.

Gallus held up his hand, halting your apology. “No, Sabina. This is all me. I’m responsible for this.”

“I still don’t fully understand,” you said slowly, biting your lip as you looked up at him. “Last night, during the banquet, when Atticus pulled you away—what happened? What did he do?”

“It’s not what he did,” Gallus told you, his voice low and saturated with bitterness. “It’s what he threatened to do.”

You felt nauseous all of a sudden, but you couldn’t quite explain why. You sat silently, both hands resting still in your lap, waiting for Gallus to go on.

He surprised you by suddenly kneeling on the ground before you, taking both your hands in his and resting his forehead against them. “Sabina, this is all my fault. I wanted to protect you. I’m so sorry.”

“Gallus, what is it? Whatever it is, just tell me,” you coaxed gently, slipping one of your hands out of his grasp and resting it atop his head, running your fingers through his hair.

When Gallus finally lifted his head to look at you, his misery was so profound that it took your breath away. “He threatened you, Sabina. He knows now that he finally has something to hold over my head. He made it clear that should I ever do anything to displease him, he would take it out on you, that he would hurt you and—and—” It seemed that there was more on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Gasping softly, you took his face between your hands and pressed your forehead to his, absorbing all the pain and fear and misery he had been carrying around all on his own. The horror of his admission—and of just how awful a man your master truly was—washed over you, but you clung to him all the tighter, refusing to let him go.

“I thought—I thought that if I could distance myself from you, push you away, that you would be safe,” Gallus went on, pain cracking his words and splitting them in half. “Sabina, last night—you have to know how much I—but I—”

He had been trying to protect you. What you had understood to be rejection and indifference was in reality a testament to just how much this man cared for you. He was willing to break his own heart, to let go of you forever, if it meant keeping you out of the clutches of your vindictive master.

No one had ever cared for you in such a way before.

“Gallus,” you whispered, stroking his face as you stared deeply into those dark golden eyes of his.

You understood now the magnitude of what it meant to give yourself to him. You thought of Phoenix and her fear of having her relationship with Carnifex found out. You thought of the tragic, ill-fated love of Rufus and Niobe. It was a risk, a danger to give your heart to him and accept his heart in return. It would make sense to do as he said, to distance yourself from him and let him push you away.

But he was the first glimpse of true happiness you had ever known in this life that was not your own. With him, you felt alive in a way you never had before.

You had known nothing but pain and suffering and misery since you were six years old. Your heart had been broken more times than you could count. You had survived and pushed forward anyway, compelled by some force you couldn’t name and certainly couldn’t understand. But you knew, with undeniable clarity, that you would not survive this heartbreak if you had to give him up. It was like you had been drifting out at sea all these years, and he was your first real sight of the shoreline—of safety, of security, of home.

You could not let him go.

Whispering his name once more, you wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, and pressed your lips to his, kissing him so tenderly that you felt your own heart shatter and then begin to knit itself back together again, stronger than before.

Gallus was still for a moment, frozen beneath your touch as your lips covered his. But then, as if by instinct and the guidance of some invisible force, his arms came to wrap around your waist and he rose slowly, pulling you off the stool as he did so. One hand came up to bury itself in your hair as he kissed you back, his mouth moving against yours in a way that was almost shy.

You moaned softly, tightening your grip on him as you stood on your tiptoes, melting into him. You felt the wetness on your cheeks, but it took you a moment to realize that they weren’t your tears.

Pulling back, breathing heavily, you stared up at him, at this man who had captured you, mind, body, and soul, and found that he was crying.

Lifting your hand, you brushed away his tears, as he had done so many times for you, and smiled at him through the haze of your own emotion.

“I am yours,” you vowed, pushing his hair back and cradling his face in your hands. “No matter what anyone does to me, I will always be yours.”

“Sabina,” Gallus breathed out, pulling you into his arms and kissing you again, relief coursing through his body as he held you close.

He held you like he would never let you go.

And as you kissed him, your mouths fitting together like they had been carved by the gods for that express purpose, you knew with unwavering certainty that there would never be another for you in this life.

He was yours, and you were his. Forever.

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