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T he damp chill of the underground cage seeped into my bones as I lay on my stomach, trying not to move. Every breath sent fire across my back where the whip had carved its fury. The infection burned worse than the original flogging, and I knew without treatment I wouldn't survive to fight in the arena again. Perhaps that had been the point.

Soft footsteps approached - too light for a guard. I tensed, then relaxed as Livia's familiar scent drifted over me. A familiar scent of leather from the arena, the medicinal herbs she brought to treat my wounds, and her own sweet spicy scent that had my body responding in undesirable ways. I swallowed and tried to ignore it as she quietly turned the key in the door of my cage.

I blinked as the light of the candle filled my cage, and looked up to see her illuminated in the doorway. I loved these nights she snuck down to see me. In the arena, she was incredible - all leather, steel and blood, her brown eyes flashing with determination and rage, but these stolen nights had shown me another side of her. A softer side. Now she wore only a thin shift that clung to her body, the laces parting down the front, dipping between her breasts in a tantalising way that had me craving her in my dreams when she'd gone. Her long dark hair hung in a messy braid over one shoulder, and her feet were bare on the straw. She smiled at me as she entered, and I sat up, wincing at the pain as my skin pulled across my back.

"How are you feeling tonight?" Livia said in a low voice, as she moved around to inspect my back with the candlelight.

"Fine," I muttered.

I felt the smack of the linens she carried on the top of my head, and rolled my eyes.

"Better, but the skin's feeling tight, and it itches like Inferi."

"That's good. Itching and tightness usually mean it's getting better. It doesn't look as inflamed," she observed. "But then it's hard to tell without daylight. Maybe tomorrow you could-"

"No," I snapped. "I told you, I'm not going out in front of them like this."

She sighed. "I understand. I just want to help."

She laid her hand on the part of my shoulder that wasn't injured, and I reached up and covered it with my own.

"I know. But they can't see me like this, they can't see me weak. It would only make matters worse."

"Right. Well. Let's get on with it then. I'll need to cleanse the wounds and redress them," she said, and I heard the rustle of straw as she knelt down behind me. I felt her pause. "It's going to hurt." I nodded, without looking back at her.

"Don't worry about hurting me, just do what you need to."

I heard her take a breath, and the first touch of the wet cloth made me hiss between my teeth, but I didn't pull away. She worked in silence for a while, and I could feel the gentle pressure of her fingers as she cleaned each welt. Even through the pain, my skin tingled where she touched me. I’d felt it from the first time she’d laid her hand on my arm, that deep, dark desire to pull her close, to feel her body against mine. To make her mine. I tried to focus on an insect crawling over one of the walls. Those thoughts would not serve either of us, and I would never disrespect her. Livia was the only one who’d ever shown me kindness since my mother. Others had shown me pity, but never kindness.

"You're lucky these aren't deeper," she said finally, her breath warm against my shoulder.

"Though whoever did this knew exactly how to cause pain without permanent damage."

"Cato," I muttered.

She paused for a second, then resumed her cleaning.

"You're lucky these aren't deeper," she murmured again.

"Did you see Septimus's bout yesterday? Against the Thracian?"

"Yes." Her hands never stopped their careful work, dipping the cloth in water and wringing it out.

Each time she moved, her shift brushed against my arm. "He's improved his footwork. Though he still drops his guard when he goes for the kill."

"He's a good fighter, don't you think?" I kept my tone casual, though my heart beat faster as I tested the waters. I had seen the way Septimus looked at her, not even looked, the way his eyes followed her whenever she was in the same space as him. Like some obsession he had. I understood that obsession, it was what made me need to know if she returned his passion.

"Yes, he's good."

"Better." The burning had faded to a more manageable ache, though every brush of her fingers sent a different kind of heat through my body. "The guards are taking bets on which of us will survive the tournament."

She was silent for a moment, her fingers stilling on my back. "You'll heal in time," she said softly. "The infection isn't as deep as I feared."

"Time isn't something we have much of." The tournament was less than a month away. I'd seen too many good fighters die in these events, where the crowd's bloodlust reached fever pitch and even the most skilled could fall to an unlucky blow. The thought of Livia lying broken in the sand made my chest tight. "You should focus on your own training, not wasting time down here with me."

"I decide what's worth my time." There was steel in her voice now - a glimpse of the warrior who'd earned her place in the arena. She moved to work on my shoulder, where the whip had wrapped around to catch the flesh above my collarbone. "Besides, I learn from watching you fight. The way you move... it's different from the others."

"Talfen blood," I said bitterly. "Makes me quick. Unpredictable. Like a demon."

"Like a dancer," she corrected, her fingers trailing along the edge of a welt. "You make it look effortless. Beautiful, even."

I snorted. "There's nothing beautiful about death."

"No," she agreed quietly. "But there's beauty in survival. In refusing to let them break you."

The candlelight flickered, casting shadows that danced across the walls of my cage. Her hands moved to a particularly deep gash near my spine, and I couldn't hold back a hiss of pain. She murmured an apology, her touch becoming even gentler.

"Sometimes I think that's all I am now," I admitted into the darkness. "Just survival. Just spite." The words felt raw in my throat, but something about the night, about her presence, made them slip free.

"You're more than that." She shifted position to reach my upper shoulder, and I felt the soft brush of her shift against my arm. Heat flooded through me, very different from the fever of infection. My body responded immediately, embarrassingly, and I jerked away from her touch.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, trying to hide my reaction, though in the confined space of the cage there was nowhere to go. The straw rustled beneath me as I moved.

"Don't be," she said softly. "It's a normal reaction when someone's this close."

"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."

"Look at me," she whispered. When I did, her eyes were dark with something that wasn't pity at all. "I see how you hold yourself apart. How you flinch from casual contact. But you don't flinch from me."

"Because you're not afraid." The words came out harsher than I intended. "But you should be. The things I think about... the ways I want..." I broke off, jaw clenching.

"The way you want to touch me?" Her voice had dropped lower, sending heat pooling in my belly. "The way I think about touching you?"

"Livia..." Her name was a warning, though I wasn't sure if it was meant for her or myself. Every muscle in my body was taut with the effort of holding still.

"Tell me to stop," she breathed, her lips barely inches from mine. "Tell me you don't want this."

"It's forbidden." My voice was hoarse, though I still hadn't moved away from her. "A human and a Talfen... even half-blood. If they catch us-"

"They'll kill you," she finished. "And I'll be flogged. Ostracized. Maybe worse." Her hand slid to my chest, resting over my thundering heart. "I know the laws, Tarshi. I know the risks."

"Then why?" I caught her hand again, torn between pulling it away and pressing it closer. "Why would you risk everything?"

"Because I've wanted you since the day you arrived." The raw honesty in her voice made me ache. "Because something in me recognizes something in you. When I'm near you, it's like..." She struggled for words. "Like a pull. Like gravity. Tell me you don't. Tell me I'm imagining the way your body responds when I'm close. The way your eyes follow me in the yard."

I couldn't lie to her. Not about this. "I feel it," I admitted roughly. "Like a hook behind my ribs, drawing me to you. But Livia, wanting isn't enough. I won't be responsible for your destruction."

"My destruction?" A fierce light entered her eyes. "I choose my own fate. As you choose yours. We're not slaves to their laws or their prejudices."

"No," I agreed, my resolve weakening as she pressed closer. "We're just slaves to everything else."

"Then let us have this." Her lips brushed my jaw, and I had to bite back a groan. "Let us have something that's ours. Something they can't take away."

"If they find out..."

"Then we don't let them find out," she whispered against my skin. "I'm tired of being afraid. Tired of denying what I feel."

“The guards-"

"Won't patrol this section again for hours."

Her words sent a shiver through me. The last of my resistance crumbled as her lips found mine, soft at first, then with increasing urgency. I groaned into her mouth, my hands coming up to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer. She matched my hunger, her tongue seeking entrance, and I opened to her willingly, following her lead. My heart thudded against my ribcage as her hands spread over the expanse of my chest, warm and curious. I pulled back, gasping for breath that seemed to have left my body at her command.

Her eyes never left mine as she reached up and ran her fingertips over my lips.

"Livia..." I breathed her name, torn between desire and fear. "If we do this, there's no going back."

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked. “Or to stop? I will, if it’s what you want.”

I should have said yes, should have made her leave right then. I knew the penalties if we were caught, knew what we were risking. I was wrong to risk her life just to feel her touch on my skin, I knew that. My demon half could damn her, but the human half of me just wasn’t strong enough to form the words. I had craved human touch for so many years, I didn't have the strength to send her away. Livia might think me a strong man, a good man, but I wasn’t. I was weak and selfish, and I reached for her again.