Page 8 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)
Chapter Eight
C assius
“Ready for a change of scenery?” Diana asks as I approach the corral, her voice warm and welcoming in the bright morning light. She’s leaning casually against the fence, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
“Always,” I reply, trying to ignore the way my body seems to come alive at the sight of her. “What’s the plan?”
Diana gestures toward the open field beyond the barn, dotted with wildflowers and glowing in the soft sunlight. “You’ve been confined to the corral for over a week. I figured it’s time to stretch our legs—yours and the horses. Some fresh air, new sights, and smells. The doctors say scent is great for memory recall.”
I glance past her at the field. Leaving the safety of the corral feels momentous, like venturing into uncharted territory. Small steps, I guess, will lead to bigger ones. “Sounds good.”
As we ready the horses, we work together effortlessly. She hands me a brush, and I take it without needing to ask what to do. The simplicity of the moment steadies me.
“You’re getting the hang of this,” she observes, tossing me a halter for Atlas.
I manage to slip it on and secure the lead without fumbling—no small victory. “I’ve had a good teacher.”
Her cheeks flush faintly, making the freckles scattered across her nose stand out, and she ducks her head with a soft laugh. “High praise, indeed. Ready?”
We set out into the field, the uneven ground forcing me to focus on every step. Diana walks beside me, close enough to catch me if I stumble, but far enough to give me room to find my footing.
“So,” she says after a few moments of easy silence, “up for a little game?”
“A game?” My tone is cautious.
In a flash, I have my first memory since I woke up on the Fortuna two thousand years ago with my head feeling as though it was pounded with the butt end of a battleaxe. The moving picture in my mind isn’t hazy at all. It’s a naked woman on all fours. She’s on a bed, her ass facing me. She slowly turns her head and gazes at me over her shoulder, flashing me a smile that would tempt Ulysses to abandon his journey.
“ Satis ludos. Futue me , Cassius.” Enough games. Fuck me.
After commanding me to fuck her, she puts her beautiful cheek on the bedding and lifts her ass higher as she giggles temptingly. The memory flies away as quickly as it arrived.
Diana asked if I wanted to play a game. Is that what triggered my memory? A bedroom game with a beautiful woman flaunting a perfect ass?
One thing I know for certain. I will never reveal any of this to Diana, whose smile widens. A teasing edge softens the words. “A memory game. It’s simple. I’ll pick flowers for you to smell to see if it sparks something.”
“Flowers, huh? A little less dangerous than gladiatorial combat, I guess.”
Diana chuckles, shaking her head. “And here I thought you’d jump at the chance to show off your skills as a wildflower expert.”
I scoff, but find myself smiling. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She stops to pluck a bright yellow bloom with a dark center. “Black-Eyed Susan,” she says, holding it out.
I take it, the cheerful color lifting my spirits even as the scent stirs nothing but faint curiosity.
Next, she picks a delicate cluster of tiny white flowers. “Queen Anne’s lace.”
The sweet, earthy smell brushes the edges of something familiar, but the memory refuses to form.
“And this one,” she says, crouching to retrieve a stalk with dozens of small pink petals, “is allium. Also known as garlic.”
“Allium is a Latin word.” I’m excited to remember this, though no mind-pictures come with it. “We used it in cooking.”
Her expression lights up. “That’s amazing, Cassius! You’re remembering.”
The warmth in her voice ignites something within me, a mixture of pride and yearning. “It’s just a word,” I say, shrugging, though her enthusiasm makes it feel like more.
“It’s progress,” she insists, her hand brushing my arm. The brief contact sends a jolt through me.
We continue walking, her occasional pauses to gather flowers breaking the silence. The scents and textures tease at fragments of memory, but nothing solid emerges.
Finally, she stops to pick a vibrant red flower. “Wild rose,” she says, straightening.
As she steps toward me, her foot catches on the uneven ground. Instinctively, I reach out, steadying her with one arm as my balance wavers. We end up tangled together, my hand on her waist, hers clutching my shirt.
The world seems to narrow to this moment, to the warmth of her body against mine and the soft flush spreading across her cheeks. Her breath mingles with mine, carrying the scent of mint and sunshine. I’m acutely aware of every point where our bodies connect—my arm around her waist, her hand on my chest, the warmth of her touch. Her skin is flushed, a delicate pink that spreads from her cheeks down her neck, disappearing beneath her collar. I wonder how far that blush extends.
The flower she’d picked lies forgotten at our feet, its sweet fragrance mixing with the clean scent of her skin. Her eyes, a mesmerizing blend of green and gold, are wide as they meet mine. For a moment, I swear I see something there—a flash of heat, a mirror of the desire coursing through my own veins.
Her fingers curl slightly against my chest, bunching the fabric of my shirt. The slight movement shoots jolts of lightning through me. My hand at her waist seems to move of its own accord, drawing her infinitesimally closer. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, her lips part, and the sight of her tongue darting out to wet them nearly undoes me.
But surely I’m imagining things. This beautiful, capable woman couldn’t possibly be attracted to her pupil, a man who can barely walk the length of this pasture without help. The heat in her gaze must be a trick of the sunlight. The way she leans into me is merely for balance. Nothing more.
Yet her pulse flutters at the base of her throat, matching the rapid beating of my heart. When she shifts slightly, trying to regain her footing, her hip brushes against mine in a way that makes my breath catch. The air between us feels charged, heavy with unspoken possibilities.
I could lower my head just slightly, close the small distance between us. Her lips look impossibly soft, and part of me is desperate to discover if they feel as silken as they appear. But before I can act on the reckless impulse, Buddy’s loud snort shatters the moment.
We spring apart as if burned, the spell shattered.
“Sorry,” I mutter, heat rising to my face. “Still working on the whole balance thing.”
Diana laughs, the sound a touch too high-pitched to be entirely natural. “No harm done. Let’s, um… get back.”
She bends to retrieve the rose, her hand trembling slightly as she offers it to me. “Here. Maybe this one will bring something back.”
I take it, careful not to let our fingers brush. The scent is rich and sweet, stirring emotions that hover just out of reach.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, though my gaze is on her rather than the flower.
Her breath hitches, but she recovers quickly, her professional mask sliding back into place as she covers her mouth with her hand. “We should head back before we overdo it.”
As we turn toward the barn, a quiet tension lingers between us, heavy with unspoken words.