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Chapter Forty-Five

M aya

We’re now in our own private sanctuary within a sanctuary. Damian’s eyes find mine in the soft lamplight, his gaze carrying such tender intensity that my breath catches.

Taking my hand he gently pulls me to the table and sits with me on his lap. A sudden growl in my stomach and an answering growl from Damian’s has us both smiling. He reaches for a grape just as I reach for a piece of cheese. We hold our offerings to each other’s lips, our gazes never faltering from each other. We take our time feeding each other, quenching our thirst, reveling in the quiet with the pressures of the past weeks blessedly gone.

“Maya,” he says with the same gravity he might use in prayer to his patron Goddess, Tyche. In just one word, he conveys everything we’ve been through together—every lie, every truth, every hardship, and every moment of connection.

“After our journey, perhaps we should…” his eyes drift toward the bathroom with meaning.

“Yes,” I breathe. We’ve waited so long for this, I want everything to be perfect and unhurried.

Soon, steam is filling the small bathroom as water cascades from the shower head. Damian’s hands are gentle as he helps me undress, his fingers lingering at each button, each clasp.

His touch is reverent, as though he’s unwrapping something infinitely precious. When he kneels to help me step out of my pants, his lips brush my hip bone, sending shivers up my spine and spiking my desire.

I return the favor, my hands trembling slightly as I help him out of his clothes. Even after all we’ve shared, the sight of him still takes my breath away—the perfect sculpture of his muscles, the scars that tell his story, the evidence of his desire for me growing more obvious with each passing moment.

Under the spray of hot water, we take turns washing each other. His strong hands work shampoo through my hair, massaging my scalp with such tenderness that my eyes flutter closed. I lean back against his chest, feeling his hardness press against me.

“Turn,” he whispers, his voice low and husky.

I do, and his hands slide soap-slick across my shoulders, down my arms, then move to my breasts. His touch is purposeful but unhurried, thumbs circling my nipples until they tighten into hard peaks that ache for more attention.

“Damian,” I sigh, as his hands drift lower, tracing the curve of my waist, the flare of my hips.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs in English, since our translators are on the bathroom counter. Dropping to his knees before me, his lips press against my stomach, my hip, the top of my thigh, each tender press of his lips is a promise of what’s to come.

I’ve known this man was gorgeous since the moment I laid eyes on him, but my appreciation of his face and form is different now. I love his soul. The package he lives in is merely icing on the cake.

He must be using every scintilla of his willpower not to make this more sensual than it already is, especially when he cleans between my legs. For a moment, I wish he would let himself go, but then I realize he’s dragging this out for a reason—so our ultimate joining will be that much more perfect. He must know I’m already aching for him.

When it’s my turn, I take the soap and work it into a lather, spreading it across the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my palm. I trace each scar, each muscle, first with gentle fingertips, then, after rinsing the soap, my mouth and lips.

I work my way down his body with deliberate slowness. His breath catches as my hand encircles him briefly, a preview of pleasures to come. He may have godlike willpower. I, however, feel like a thirteen-year-old who can’t control her impulses.

“If we continue this,” he says, his voice tight with restraint, “we may never leave this shower.”

I understand his gentle scold, so I pull the showerhead off the wall and rinse us both quickly, letting the anticipation build between us like heat lightning before a storm. As we dry each other with soft towels, our touches grow more urgent, less controlled.

Clean but far from satisfied, we move toward the bed, leaving damp footprints across the floor.

I turn to him and trace my fingers along the raspy line of his jaw, marveling at how this ancient warrior has become my anchor in a storm-tossed world.

“I never thought,” I whisper after we put our translators in, “when my father called that night, interrupting my peaceful sleep, that it would lead to this—to you.”

His smile transforms his face from classical sculpture to a living, breathing man. “The Goddess Tyche works in mysterious ways.” His hand covers mine, turning to press a kiss to my palm. “It took two thousand years of sleep to find you.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Worth the wait?”

Instead of answering with words, he draws me into his arms. The kiss starts gently, reverent, but quickly deepens with the heat that’s been building between us since that first night in my bed. His hands thread through my hair, cradling my head as though I’m something precious.

We’ve touched before, tasted fragments of this connection, but always held back—first by deception, then by circumstance. Now, in the safety of Second Chance, there are no more barriers between us.

“On the run,” he says, “as you drove, I dreamed of this moment when I could fully express my love for you, Fortis .”

The reverence with which he looks at me brings hot tears to my eyes.

We take a moment to simply look at each other. The light drifting through the windows gilds his bronze skin, highlighting the strength and grace that first drew me to him. His gaze travels over me with such raw admiration that I feel beautiful, powerful, desired.

“ Pulcherrima ,” he whispers. Most beautiful.

Our bodies collide as the towels fall forgotten to the floor. Skin to skin after what seems like months—without hesitation or barrier. His arms encircle me, lifting me effortlessly to carry me to the bed.

The feeling of being completely enveloped in his strength while knowing the gentleness of his heart makes me feel safer than I’ve ever been.

He lays me down on the bed, his gaze never leaving mine. The mattress dips under his weight as he joins me, his body covering mine, a warm, solid blanket of muscle and flesh. I can feel his heart pounding, echoing my own racing pulse. His lips find mine again, hungry and insistent, stealing my breath and replacing it with his own.

Calloused hands explore, mapping my body with a claiming touch. His fingers raise goosebumps as they trail up my side, brushing against the swell of my breast. After breaking the kiss, his lips move to my jaw, then my neck, searing a path down to my collarbone. Each press of his lips sends jolts of electricity through me, igniting fires under my skin.

“Damian,” I whisper, my voice barely recognizable. I bite back the urge to tell him everything I want him to do to me, with me. I think it will be more enjoyable if I just let my gladiator take charge.

He responds with a low growl, his mouth moving lower, capturing one taut nipple between his lips. The sensation is exquisite, a dance between pleasure and pain that has me arching off the bed, pressing myself deeper into his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth gently graze, and his hands—god, his hands—they knead and caress and pluck, driving me wild with desire.

Threading my fingers through his hair, I hold him to me as he lavishes attention on one breast, then the other. Each tug of his mouth sends a corresponding pulse between my legs, a throbbing ache that begs for his touch. His stubble rasps against my sensitive skin, adding another layer of sensation, another spark to the fire burning within me.

“Damian, please,” I gasp, my body writhing beneath him. I need more, so much more.

He lifts his head, his eyes dark with desire. “What do you need, Domina ?” he asks, his voice a husky rumble. The use of that name, the one he called me when he thought I owned him, sends a thrill through me. It’s a game now, a dance of power we both enjoy.

“Touch me,” I command, spreading my legs in invitation. His gaze flickers down, his pupils dilating at the sight of me, open, ready, and glistening for him. A slow, sensual smile spreads across his face, and he trails kisses down my stomach, his hands gently parting my thighs further.

I can feel his warm breath against my most sensitive spot, and I can’t help but squirm in anticipation. He looks up at me, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and mischief. “Patience, Domina ,” he murmurs, his lust-filled voice rough as gravel.

He dips his head, and I feel the first soft touch of his tongue. It’s a tease, a promise of what’s to come. He explores me gently, tasting and testing, finding what makes me gasp and writhe. I grip the sheets, my knuckles turning white as I try to keep myself grounded, but it’s no use. With each skilled stroke of his tongue, I feel myself spiraling higher and higher.

His hands slide under me, cupping my ass, lifting me closer to his mouth. He growls again; the sound vibrating through me, intensifying every sensation. I can feel the pressure building, the coil tightening. I’m close. So close.

But Damian has other plans. He pulls back, his lips glistening with my desire. I whimper in protest, but he just smiles, that infuriatingly sexy smile that tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing—and enjoys driving me to the edge of distraction.

“Not yet, Domina,” he says with a smirk, his voice a low rumble. “Not until I’m inside you. And that won’t be for a while.”

He licks his lips, the look on his face filled with lust. “What do you want, my Domina ? Tell me what you desire.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through me. I guide his hand to my breast, my voice barely a whisper. “Touch me, Damian. Everywhere. Own me .”

His eyes flare and he gasps at my demand… then he launches into action as his fingers skim over sensitive skin, tracing the curve of my breast before his hand cups it fully.

“Mine.”

His thumb circles my nipple, teasing it to a taut peak. A soft moan escapes my lips as he lowers his head, capturing the bud in his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth graze, and every tug sends a pulse of pleasure straight between my legs.

“Mine.”

“Yours,” I murmur, arching into his touch. His other hand finds my neglected breast, lavishing it with the same attention. The dual sensation is almost too much, sending my heart racing and my breath coming in short gasps.

“And now?” he asks, his breath hot against my skin. “What else do you want, Domina ?”

I grasp at his shoulders, pulling him up to meet my gaze. “Kiss me,” I command, my voice laced with desperation.

His mouth claims mine, hungry and demanding. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as his tongue invades, tangling with mine. The kiss is passionate, full of unspoken promises and shared desires.

When he pulls away, he breathes, “Mine. All mine,” with a passion that’s almost feral.

“Damian,” I breathe out, breaking away only to be consumed by his intense gaze. “I want you. All of you.”

A slow, sensual smile spreads across his face, and he shifts, positioning himself between my legs. But instead of giving me what I crave, he leans down only far enough for his tongue to trace a path from my breastbone down to my navel.

“Not yet, Domina ,” he murmurs against my skin.

“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?” I ask, desperate. His tactics are driving me wild, but I’m loving every moment of this delicious torture.

He looks up at me, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Perhaps. But only because I want to hear you say it. I want to know what you want, Domina . In detail.”

I bite my lip, considering his challenge. If he wants detail, I’ll give him detail. “I want you, Damian. I want to feel you inside me, filling me completely. I want to feel your weight on top of me, your body moving against mine. I want to hear your excitement as you take your fill of me. I want to feel your heart pounding against my chest as you claim me, as you make me yours.”

His eyes darken, his pupils dilating with desire. He moves up my body, his lips capturing mine in a fierce, passionate kiss. I can feel his hardness pressed against my entrance, so close, yet so far. I wriggle my hips, trying to draw him in, but he pulls back, a wicked smile on his lips.

“More,” he demands, his voice a low growl. “Tell me more.”

I moan, a sound of pure frustration. But I comply, my voice a husky whisper. “I want to feel your hands on my hips, guiding me, controlling me. I want to feel your mouth on my neck, my breasts, my lips. I want to taste your sweat, to hear your groans, to feel your pleasure.”

He rewards me with a slow, sensual thrust, just the tip, enough to make me gasp and arch my back. But he withdraws just as slowly, leaving me bereft.

“Damian,” I whimper, my hands clutching at his shoulders. “Please. Fuck me.”

He looks into my eyes, his gaze intense, searching. Whatever he sees there seems to satisfy him, because he leans down, his lips brushing against mine as he whispers, “As you command, Domina .”

And then, finally, he sinks into me. The sensation is exquisite. The slow, powerful stretch and burn is the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt. I moan, my eyes fluttering closed as he fills me to the hilt.

He stills for a moment, our bodies joined, as he allows me to adjust to his size, our breaths mingling, hearts pounding in sync. I can feel every inch of him, hot and hard inside me. It’s more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced.

“Maya,” he whispers, his voice strained with desire and reverence. “Being inside you is like a trip to Elysium.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. “Move, Damian,” I whisper. “Please.”

He thrusts, slowly at first, each stroke deliberate and controlled—all the way out, and then a plunge back in so that each entry is almost as delicious as the first.

His hips roll against mine, his body pressing all the right spots, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me. I match his rhythm, my hips rising to meet his, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

His mouth finds mine again, his kiss swallowing my moans as our pace quickens. His hands are everywhere, caressing my breasts, gripping my hips, sliding up my thighs to hitch my legs higher around him. I cling to him, my nails raking down his back, my hands gripping his shoulders, holding on as our passion escalates.

The room fills with the sounds of our lovemaking—the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh, the creak of the bed beneath us, our mingled breaths and moans. The scent of our arousal permeates the air, a heady mix of sweat and sex and desire.

Damian’s lips trail down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making me shudder. He buries his face in the crook of my shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against my ear. “You feel so good, Maya,” he groans. “So tight, so hot.”

I can feel the pleasure coiling tight in my core, my muscles clenching around him as he drives into me. “Damian,” I gasp. “I’m close. So close.”

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. There’s a fierce determination in his gaze, a promise that he won’t stop until I’m shattered beneath him. His hand slides down my body, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. He presses, circling tightly until I’m at the edge of the cliff, my body tensing as every muscle coils in anticipation.

The pleasure is almost unbearable, a sweet, torturous ache that promises an explosive release. Damian’s thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles, his touch firm and steady, driving me higher.

“Let go, Fortis ,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. “Fall apart for me.”

The command in his voice sends a surge of heat through me, and I can’t hold back any longer. With a cry, I tumble over the edge, my entire body seizing as the pleasure explodes from my core.

Stars burst behind my eyes as my back arches off the bed. My thighs tremble uncontrollably, my inner walls pulsing and gripping him with each wave that crashes through me. The intensity steals my breath—I’m gasping, moaning his name as the ecstasy radiates outward to my fingertips and toes. Time seems to suspend as the orgasm rolls through me in endless ripples, each one slightly softer than the last, but no less exquisite.

My hips buck wildly, my inner muscles clenching around him, drawing him deeper into me.

Damian groans, his eyes darkening as he watches me come undone. He continues to thrust, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. His grip on my hips tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh as he chases his release.

I reach up, my hands cupping his face, my thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “Come with me, Damian,” I whisper, my voice breathy and ragged. “Let go. Let me see you.”

His gaze locks onto mine, and I see the moment he surrenders. With a low, guttural groan, he thrusts deep into me, his powerful body going taut above me. His arms tremble as they cage me, muscles straining and flexing as the pleasure overtakes him.

His face transforms—his eyes darkening to midnight, his jaw clenching then slackening as a look of absolute bliss washes over him. He buries himself to the hilt, his hips jerking in a primal rhythm as he empties himself inside me.

His chest heaves with ragged breaths, my name falling from his lips in a broken, whispered mantra.

His body shuddering as he finds his release. I can feel the heat of him, the pulsing of his pleasure, and it sends another wave of ecstasy crashing through me.

We cling to each other, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in sync. His forehead rests against mine, his breath hot and ragged against my lips. I can taste the salt of his skin, the remnants of our passion, and it’s intoxicating.

“Maya,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “I’ve never felt so favored by the gods.”

I smile, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. “Yes, blessed,” I agree, my voice soft. “And it’s only the beginning.”

He rolls over with me still in his arms, our bodies still entwined. His hand strokes my back, his touch full of affection after the storm of our passion. I can feel his heartbeat steadying, matching the rhythm of my own. The room is filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes after two people have shared something profound and intimate.

As we lie here, our bodies cooling and our breaths evening out, I can’t help but marvel at the journey that brought us here. From the cold, dark depths of the Norwegian sea to this warm, safe haven, our paths have intertwined in ways neither of us could have imagined. Damian, the ancient Roman gladiator frozen in time, and me, the modern-day woman who somehow managed to thaw his heart along with his body.

“What are you thinking about?” Damian asks softly, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

I tilt my head to look at him, a small smile playing on my lips. “Just how unlikely all of this is,” I say. “How you, of all people, ended up here with me.”

He smiles back, his eyes warm and tender. “The Goddess works in mysterious ways,” he says, echoing his earlier words. “But I like to think we make our own fate, too. That our choices led us here, to each other.”

“I like that thought,” I murmur, snuggling closer to him. “That we chose this, somehow. That it wasn’t just chance or fate or divine intervention.”

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his arms tightening around me. “Whatever it was that brought us together, I’m grateful for it,” he says. “I’ve never felt anything like this, Maya. Not in all my long life.”

My heart swells at his words, and I feel a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the afterglow of our lovemaking. It’s something deeper, something that feels like it’s been growing between us for centuries, not just weeks.

“I’ve never felt anything this powerful,” I confess.

“My father would say that wisdom includes recognizing life’s greatest treasures.” His lips brush my forehead. “And I have found mine.”

I draw the blanket over us both, nestling into the crook of his arm as if I’ve always belonged there. Outside, the night wraps around our sanctuary, keeping the world at bay. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new battles to face together. But tonight, we have this—this perfect moment of connection.

His breathing slows as sleep claims him, but his arms remain secure around me, protective even in rest.

“Sleep, Fortis ,” he murmurs, already half-dreaming. “I am here.”

And as I drift into slumber, wrapped in his embrace, I know with absolute certainty that I am home.