With my back now facing Aia’s usual place on the bench beside the cot, I couldn’t see her, and I found the realization distressing. I called her over to the other side of the bed, and she complied. Kneeling beside the cot, she took my hand in hers.

“Are you in pain?” she inquired.

“Nothing of consequence,” I replied. I dropped my eyes to the linens on the bed and judged the space there.

“Come,” I said. As I pulled her hand, I saw hesitation in Aia’s eyes. “Lie here with me.”

“Will you be still?” she asked quietly.

I nodded once, and she hesitated but a moment before rising from the floor and positioning herself on the cot at my side. I wrapped my arms around her small form and held her against me. She placed her hand on my chest, carefully avoiding the dressings around my wound.

For some time, we simply lay together on the cot, and Aia distracted me with more tales of learning to bake when she was young. Her stories had become so vivid, I could practically smell the bread with the warm, intoxicating scents of wheat, yeast, and herbs as it was removed from the oven. The contrast to my own childhood was not lost on me. It conjured forth memories of my father, a cold and unforgiving man. He was absent for most of my young life as he took his place on the steps of the Senate where he still spent most of his days. I had often been told I resembled him in attitude. There were also brief glimpses of my mother, whose social obligations left me to be raised by the slaves of the household. I barely knew her before she died. I had heard rumors of my father having her killed, and I did not doubt them.

As daylight began to fade, Aia brushed her fingertips over my shoulder and began to remove herself to the bench where she usually slept.

“Would you stay beside me?” The thought left my lips in the form of a question, and I found it odd I had phrased it in such a way. I could have commanded her to do so, but I realized I wanted her to desire it as much as I did.

“Of course, Faustus,” Aia replied as she settled back into my arms.

“This room is cold,” I said. Why I found it necessary to explain myself was mystery. I looked down her body as I ran my hand from her hip up to her shoulder. “You are warm.”

Our eyes locked over each other’s gaze, and we both paused. If Caesar himself had entered the room, I couldn’t have drawn my look from her deep blue eyes. I was a prisoner to them. My fingers twitched without order from me to do so as I moved them from her shoulder back to her side. I realized I had not drawn breath since our eyes had met, and I attempted to release the air slowly.

I still hadn’t looked away from her gaze. Her eyes grew soft, hooded, and the desire I found in them unmistakable. Her fingers traced the planes of my chest and then continued down to my stomach.

“You touch me as a lover would,” I remarked, “not just as my nurse.”

I smiled at her blush as she looked away.

“I think you desire my touch,” I teased.

“You are gentle.”

I widened my eyes at her.

“Gentle?” I huffed a short laugh through my nose. “I have not ever heard that particular word used to describe me.”

I watched her for a long moment.

“What do you know of me?” I asked.

Aia moved her eyes to my chest as she spoke.

“You command one of Caesar’s legions in the west, against the Gauls,” she said. “You had a wife and child, but they passed into the afterlife some time ago, and you have never remarried. Your father is a senator in Rome, and your family holds more coin than the gods themselves.”

She looked back to me.

“Or so I have heard.”

My mouth twitched in a grin, but it was short-lived. What she knew was truth, but it was not the knowledge she needed to understand with whom she had lain.

“I am a soldier,” I said quietly. “I’ve moved through your homeland, destroying everything I encountered—burning villages, killing men, enslaving children, and raping women before I slit their throats—and you call me gentle?”

I felt her body tense at my harsh words, and my stomach twisted. Oddly enough, it was important to me that she knew the black heart of the man she apparently desired.

“You are gentle with me,” was all she whispered in reply.

I suppose I had been, in my own way. I’d also snapped at her more frequently than not, but I did hold her in highest appreciation for her steadfastness. Yes, she had been commanded to tend to me, but the manner in which she did so was more than expected. Still, her description of me I found most inaccurate, and as I thought a moment, I wondered what young Aia may have endured at the hands of her Dominus that made her consider me anything but a brute.

“And your master?”

She tilted her head away from my gaze.

“He is…rough and quick.” There was more to her thoughts than her mouth revealed, but I decided not to press the issue. I didn’t want my own mind to wander in the direction of Aia in the arms of her Dominus. Considering how many business ventures Cassianus indulged, I doubted he spent much time at the hospital at all. I hadn’t laid eyes on the man since I had arrived.

“The doctor?” I inquired, and her lips turned into a tight-lipped smile.

“A brooding soul,” she said, “and one who prefers the company of men. He is quite harsh at times and quick to…to discipline.”

The idea enraged me.

What I said to her before was true—I was considered more beast than man when it came to my enemies. I cared not for the outcome of those I sent into slavery or to the mines and was more likely to order the deaths of my captives than bother with forcing them into servitude. Those who did not see the value of the Roman Empire and Caesar’s rule were irrelevant; their choice was to succumb or perish. They would either die at my hands on the battlefield or serve Rome in some other capacity until their untimely deaths at the hands of their masters or in the gladiators’ arena. The unfamiliar concern for how the doctor treated this young slave girl sat in the pit of my gut like sour wine.

Did my own slaves fare better?

No, they were often worse off at the hands of their betters in my household, but I cared nothing for them. They could all be replaced with a handful of coins. But Aia? She was different.

I trailed my fingers up her side and over her arm. When I reached her shoulder, my hand lingered and experienced the softness of her warm skin for a moment. I dragged my tongue over my dry lips as I cupped her chin and finally looked back to her eyes.

They were wide, deep blue, and they burned into me. I moved slowly as I changed my focus to her full lips, to her eyes, and then back again. Diminishing the gap between us to nothing, our lips finally met. I could feel my body’s desire to invade her mouth with my tongue as I would invade the lands of the savages fighting against Rome, but I restrained myself.

Gentle.

I pressed my lips firmly but slowly. I tilted my head first one way and then the other. She warmed my lips, and I felt her mouth part for me when I pressed my tongue to her. Moving my hand to the back of her head, I entwined my fingers in her hair and held her fast as I tasted her.

My cock took notice of the close proximity of her thighs, and made itself known to her. My hands traveled over the skin of her back, and her warmth seeped into me. I pushed the top of her dress away from her shoulders, exposing her firm breasts to my eyes. Needing more, I dropped my hand to her thigh and pushed the cloth of her dress up, exposing her backside. Reaching low, my hand found the sweet spot between her thighs.

She was wet with her desire, and I found the will to resist the pain in my side much weaker than the will to keep my cock from finding its way into her body. I pushed at the top of my subligarium, releasing my turgid shaft.

“Please,” Aia whispered as our lips parted, “let me offer you release as I have before.”

“I do not want simple release,” I said, shaking my head. “I want to feel your body give way to mine. I want to feel your flesh engulf my cock. I want to taste your sweat as we merge into one. Simple release is no longer enough.”

“Faustus…”

“Lucius,” I said as my mouth covered hers again,

“Lucius,” she repeated in a moan against my lips.

The thoughts in my head beat against my skull as a warhorse’s hooves beat the ground of the battlefield in pursuit of a retreating enemy. My heart pounded in my chest at the sound of my name. With my cock in hand, I pressed the tip to the apex of her legs, seeking entrance. The need to be inside her was overwhelming, and holding back no longer seemed possible.

I was not an emotional man; some would say to a fault. Perhaps it was the awkward position of needing her these past weeks that brought such feelings into my soul, or maybe it was just Aia—her demeanor, her deep blue eyes, and her soft, caring hands.

Breaking our kiss, I stared at her for a long moment. With my cock mere inches from its goal, I slipped my hand from her hair, traced a fingertip over her cheek, down her jawline, and finally cupped her chin. I kissed her again, and she again moaned.

“Lucius…”

“Beautiful music,” I said quietly as I traced my thumb over her lower lip. “Do you enjoy the taste of my name in your mouth?”

I didn’t wait for her response but pressed my lips to hers. I moved slowly against her, just barely touching her lips with my tongue. Her hot breath covered my face, and I again gripped my shaft and positioned myself to claim her.