"I'm a lot older than I look, Charity."
Silence drops heavy between us. I’ve never said that truth aloud—not once—so I have no map for what comes next. I watch her, every muscle tight, waiting to see if this is the part where she decides I’m something to fear.
Her brow furrows. We're still close together on the couch, her bundled under the protection of the throw, me shirtless and scarred. "What do you mean?"
"I was born in the first century. In Rome." The words come out flat, factual. "I fought in arenas. And I've been frozen in ice until a few years ago."
The color drains from her face. "Frozen in ice. In the…" She stops, and I can see the exact moment it clicks. Her hand goes to her mouth. "Oh, my God."
"Yes."
"The gladiators." Her voice is barely a whisper. "The ones they found. The ship in the Norwegian Sea. The…Fortuna." Her eyes search mine, looking for any sign that I'm joking. "I watched the documentaries. Everyone watched them. It was the biggest discovery in… in history. Fourteen men perfectly preserved and revived. They were living at some kind of sanctuary—"
She stops, stares at me like she's seeing me for the first time.
"You're one of them." Not a question. A statement of impossible fact.
"I am."
Her hand trembles as she reaches out again, this time deliberately tracing one of the scars across my ribs. "These are from actual gladiator fights. Two thousand years ago."
"Yes."
"And you died. The ship sank."
"We should have died. We were trapped in ice. But somehow…" I trail off, because I still don't fully understand it myself. "Fortune smiled on us. Or cursed us, depending on how you look at it. We survived. We woke up in a world we don't understand, two thousand years after everything we knew turned to dust."
She's quiet, her fingers still resting on my scar. I can feel her pulse through her fingertips—rapid, shocked, but not pulling away.
"The news said you were being protected," she says slowly. "That there were security concerns. Pharmaceuticalcompanies wanting access. That the sanctuary is heavily guarded."
"People want to study us. They think our DNA holds the secret to immortality or suspended animation." I cover her hand with mine, pressing it to my chest. "We're not lab rats. Laura—the archaeologist who found us—she made sure of that. But it means we have to be careful. Very careful about telling people who we are."
"That's why you didn't tell me." Understanding softens her expression. "You were protecting yourself."
"And you." I turn slightly on the couch to face her more fully. "If people knew you were involved with one of us, you'd become a target too. For reporters, for scientists, for anyone who wants access."
She's processing, and I can see thoughts racing behind her eyes. "And the others? They’re all at the sanctuary?"
"Yes. Thirteen others. Brothers, in a way. We survived together." I think of Varro, Quintus, Cassius—all of them finding love, building lives. "Many of them have partners now. Found people they can trust."
"And you left."
"I couldn't breathe there." The admission costs me, but she deserves truth. "Everyone else seemed to fit, but I… I needed to find my own way. Figure out who I am when I'm not defined by what I was."
"A gladiator."
"A slave," I correct quietly. "Most gladiators were slaves, Charity. Property. We fought because we had no choice, and if we died, no one mourned us." My voice roughens. "I've spent my lifetime being nothing. I needed to find out if I could be something more."
Emotion floods me, so strong I can't kiss her again, not now. I cup her face, memorizing it instead. "You don't know what this means to me."
"I know enough." Her voice is steady, though her body trembles. She strokes another scar, reverent. "You're not alone anymore."
We stay like this, clinging, breathing each other in, the storm of lust quieted by something fiercer. The almost-intimacy lingers in the room, hot and unfinished, but it doesn't matter. What matters is this: she knows. And she didn't turn away.
For the first time, I feel like I could be something more–and I am not alone.
Chapter Fourteen
