I’m not sure how much time has passed when Alexei enters.
Good, he’s here. He’ll fight for me. My own personal gladiator.
Alexei stalks over to the cage and looks inside. He forces a hand through the bars and sets it on my arm, feeling my pulse. His head turns toward Egorov.
“What did you do to her?” His voice is angry, which I enjoy. No one dares speak harshly to Egorov except me. I’m stupid to do it, but this gladiator is safe. He’d never fit in the cage even if I wasn’t in it.
Egorov admits they’ve dosed me with something so that I won’t cause a problem during the fight and become a distraction.
Alexei’s thumb strokes the inside of my wrist gently. It’s a nice touch. Unexpected. My hand reaches out and tries to touch his, but misses. Twice it lands on the bottom of the cage next to my head.
“Completely stoned,” he says quietly, catching my eye.
I try to mumble something, but my words are garbled and don’t make sense. My fingers finally catch his thumb and close around it in a fist. Holding on, I rest my forehead against his strong arm. I have the urge to touch my tongue’s tip to his thumb. I don’t though.
Egorov asks where the owner of his contract is. Egorov frets about the hour and wanting to be sure that there’s time to roll the cage out and have the lights put on me before people start to stream in. They’re going to pose me, but he wants Alexei’s master to see me first.
My gladiator’s fingers tap the back of my hand and then he pulls free of my grip.
No, wait!
I try to catch him, and he hesitates. His blue eyes lock with mine.
He’s bad of course. All these men are, but he’s not as bad as Egorov because no one is. And his master won’t guard me as fiercely. I’ll have a chance, somehow, to get free.
I realize I’m holding his hand again.
He watches me, as he pulls his hand back out through the bars.
“No,” I pout.
He says something I don’t quite understand.
Egorov doesn’t seem to either because he says, “What?”
“We’re not waiting for anyone. No one paid me to fight,” Alexei says.
“The money—?”
“I’m the bidder. I paid the entry fee.”
Him? How could my gladiator have paid? He’s a pawn like me. Well, not exactly like me. But a tool that’s owned or rented, right?
I try to raise my head, but it lolls back down.
“What?” Egorov says.
“You heard me.”
Why did Alexei do it? Why try to win me for himself? Does he want a plaything who can’t refuse him? He must. How does that make me feel? My head swims. Not as upset as it should make me. It would be better to be his plaything than some other man’s. This much I’m sure of. I look at his arms. They’re huge. Will he hurt me with them? He could. But so far he hasn’t been too rough. And if I’m sweet and charming, maybe I can get him to be gentle with me until the time’s up.
Reaching through the bars, I try to catch his shirt. My fingers slip, slip, slip. And then, finally, catch. He looks down to where my hand is clutching the silky fabric.
He bends lower so he can hear what I’m trying to whisper.
“Must.”
He cocks his head and waits.
