Page 8 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

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The woman asked me all kinds of questions about the stables, the location where we were currently staying, the pain collars, and how they worked.

She asked many more questions I didn’t know the answers to.

After twenty years stuck in this hole, I should have done more, gotten myself out, or at least known more answers to her questions.

Look at her, just got here, and already she was inventorying what she needed.

I recalled the first day of my captivity only as a blur of petrified grief.

Of staring in bewildered confusion at all the technology around me.

I knew I should cut myself some slack; I had never even seen a spaceship in my life, or a lamp run on electricity, for that matter.

It had taken me years to form a basic understanding of a lot of the knowledge the others had taken for granted.

At least when it became obvious to the female that I didn’t know as much as she liked, she started asking other questions, too—questions to distract herself, I figured—and she listened avidly as I talked about home while she ate her one ration bar.

I had five of them piled in my lap, which I used to fill my empty stomach between speaking.

Once she’d finished her one bar, I offered her one of my remaining ones, certain that, even tiny as she was, one couldn’t be enough.

“Oh, that’s…” Something caught in her voice, which was lovely and melodic. Her brown eyes glittered more than they had before. Was she about to cry? I didn’t remember much about the finer points of interaction with a female, but I remembered that look from my sisters. Had I done something wrong?

She folded her fingers around my hand—not the bar of food—and I felt the points of contact down into my bones.

She was cold, but that didn’t stop the heat that blazed to life in my body.

Like earlier, when she’d offered a handshake, it was a struggle to hide how much she affected me, especially in my loincloth.

There wasn’t much fabric to hide the fact that just her touch had made my cock achingly hard, almost instantly.

I’d been balancing on that knife’s edge all evening, ever since I’d walked into my cell and realized her scent had filled up the place.

Sweet, floral, clean. And so feminine. She was the most beautiful creature I’d seen, now that I’d seen her up close.

Curly hair in ebony, as deep and shimmering as that of the females back home.

Soft brown skin, so very different from mine, which made the contrast between familiar and not all the more striking.

Her face was small and delicate, with a firm chin that she’d kept even firmer by holding in her anger and her fear. So very, very brave, this woman.

“I don’t need the extra food,” she said after she’d swallowed roughly.

“Thank you. But I don’t need that much.” I didn’t know why offering her my food had made her emotional.

Was she so surprised by my offer? Had it been a new brother instead of a female, I would have talked with him, reassured him, and offered him food, too.

I would have done all the things for him I wished another gladiator had done for me when I’d first arrived.

This female obviously had thoughts of escape on her mind, and when I’d shot down all of her ideas and debunked her theories, she was clearly very frustrated. She poked at my left shoulder through the bars. “Geez, no wonder you’ve been stuck here for twenty years—with that pessimistic outlook.”

I felt that barb deep in my chest. Was it pessimism that had stopped me from escaping?

That had made me see too many flaws in each plan I’d thought of?

For the first few years, I’d fought my master and suffered the consequences.

I’d raged against being trapped here, and they’d laughed and said my spirit boded well for my effectiveness on the sands.

It had. I’d let that be my outlet for my rage.

I’d been one hell of a Prime for nearly twenty years, that was a better streak than many a gladiator could boast.

Grabbing her finger, I rubbed her hand, worried because it had gotten colder than the last time.

She let me, sighing in relief. Then she offered me her other hand, tiny and smooth.

They were so very fragile between my fingers.

I picked up the second hand with my two lower palms so I could rub both at the same time, and then chuckled at her briefly startled look.

“Yes, I should have escaped by now. If there were a possibility, don’t you think I would have taken it?” I made sure my voice remained clear of the turmoil I felt inside. I had to focus on her soft hands, on trying to subdue the lust, and the sense of failure.

Her cheeks changed color, going from light brown to a much darker shade.

It was such a startling thing to see that my mouth dropped open in surprise.

I hadn’t seen color-changing cheeks on anyone but the occasional Pretorian male I’d met in the stables or the arena.

To see this on a female of a different species… I felt it like a punch to the gut.

Before I could stop myself, I’d already reached out with my upper right hand, running a finger over the soft curve.

“You color.” My voice held so much of the homesickness I felt at that moment that I could tell she heard it.

Her brown eyes went all soft and warm; she even tilted her head into my palm.

“We call it blushing. Happens when you feel embarrassed. Like saying something insensitive and stupid.”

Ah, an apology of sorts. I smiled at her. “I show all my emotions in my cheeks.”