"I wouldn't know," I said bitterly, before I could stop myself. The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.
She was quiet for a moment, her hands stilling on my back. "Tarshi... when you said before that no human women would come near you... did you mean ever?"
I nodded, shame burning hotter than my wounds. The black eyes that marked my mixed blood had always been enough to send them running, or worse, reaching for weapons.
"Not even slaves? Or women of the night?"
"Their guards chase me away." The words felt like rocks in my throat. "I won't humiliate myself by asking another slave. I've seen the disgust in their eyes." I didn't tell her about the times I'd tried, about the screams and thrown stones, about being called demon-spawn and monster.
"That's their problem," Livia said fiercely. "Their prejudice. You're a gladiator. You've earned respect."
"Perhaps." I stared at the pattern of shadows on the stone floor. "But I won't force anyone to my bed. No one wants to fuck a demon."
"You're not a demon." She moved then, crawling around to kneel in front of me. I tried to look away but she caught my chin with her fingers, forcing me to meet her gaze. Most people flinched from my black eyes, but she stared directly into them. "I think you're a strong man, a good man, even after everything that's been done to you." Her voice softened. "And a very sad and lonely man."
Something inside me snapped. I jerked away from her touch, anger flaring hot and sudden. "I don't need your pity," I snarled, pushing myself up despite the pain that ripped across my back. "I've survived this long without it."
"Pity?" She actually laughed, though there was no mockery in it. "You think that's what this is? Have you seen yourself fight? The way you move, the power in you?" Her eyes traveled over my chest, and I became acutely aware that I wore only a thin linen loincloth. One that was starting to gradually rise. "Half Talfen or not, you're an attractive man, Tarshi. I really can't understand why any woman wouldn't want you."
I stared at her, trying to process her words. "You're lying."
"I'm not." She shifted closer, and the candlelight caught the curves of her body through her thin shift. "You give off this... intensity. This dangerous grace. Some women find that very appealing."
"Women like you?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, rough with want and disbelief.
"You give the impression nothing frightens you," I added quickly, trying to cover my mistake. "The greatest female gladiator in the arena. But I've heard you at night, whispering to that dragon when you think no one can hear. What are you afraid of, Livia?"
Her breath caught, and for the first time that night, I saw vulnerability flash across her face. She looked away blushing, her fingers playing with the end of her braid. "Everyone's afraid of something."
Her eyes held mine, unflinching. "I'm afraid that when I finally face the man who killed my parents, I'll enjoy watching him die. That the rage inside me will consume whatever's left of who I used to be."
Her confession hung in the air between us. I recognized that fury - had seen it in her fights, in the controlled violence of her movements. It matched the darkness that lived in my own heart.
"At least you have a purpose," I said quietly. "Something beyond survival."
"Is that what you think?" She moved closer, and my breath caught at her proximity. "That I don't see how you protect the younger fighters? How you take the guards' punishment meant for others?"
"That's not-" I started to protest, but she cut me off.
"You think I don't notice how you watch me in the training yard?" Her voice had dropped lower, sending heat through my body. "Not like the others watch - like I'm meat to be devoured. You see me. The real me."
"Livia..." Her name was a warning, or perhaps a prayer. She was too close now, close enough that I could smell the oil she used in her hair, could see the pulse beating in her throat.
"I'm not offering pity, Tarshi." Her hand came up to trace the scar along my collarbone, and I had to fight not to shudder at her touch. "I'm offering understanding. We're both alone. Both carrying things that would break lesser people."
"You don't know what you're saying," I growled, though I couldn't bring myself to pull away from her touch. "What you're offering."
"Don't I?" Her fingers trailed down my chest, leaving fire in their wake. "I know exactly what I want. The question is, what do you want?"
I caught her wrist, my fingers encircling it completely. Her pulse raced against my thumb. "What I want?" My voice was rough. "I want things I have no right to want. Things that would get us both killed."
"We could die tomorrow anyway." She didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, until I could feel her breath against my throat. "In the arena. In training. Does it matter how?"
"It matters." I released her wrist, but she didn't move back. "Your life matters."
"So does yours." Her hand came up to trace the line of my jaw, and this time I couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through me. "When was the last time someone touched you with kindness, Tarshi? Not to hurt or heal, but simply because they wanted to?"
The question hit like a blade between my ribs. I closed my eyes, shame warring with a desperate hunger. "You know the answer to that."
