51. Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-One

L aura

We both kissed and stroked each other after we made love. There were so many things I wanted to say, questions I wanted to ask, yet we remained wordless as we cuddled and eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Now that we’re awake, a question slips out before I can stop it. “Have you ever been in love?” My ridiculous query hangs in the air between us. Because I can’t suck the question back in, I do the next best thing—I graze my fingertips over the dark trail of hair arrowing toward his cock, hoping to distract him.

Varro gently grips my hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss as he considers my question. “Maybe?” he says slowly. “The only relationship I had that I consented to was with Decimus. I’m not sure that was love, though.”

I know our cultures are different. The term child abuse was coined in 1962, even though they had legislation against animal cruelty dating back to the 1600s. Children were considered fair game until relatively recently.

I’m certain Varro had no concept that the age gap between him and Decimus was, by today’s standards, abusive. He doesn’t have to put a name on it, but I think it’s crucial he understands his consent was an illusion.

My heart clenches with affection for him as I ask, “How old were you when you met him?”

“Twelve,” Varro replies, his tone matter of fact. “He took me under his wing my first day in the ludus. Might have saved my life; I was still so vulnerable. ”

Exactly—na?ve, innocent, yeah… vulnerable. Swallowing hard, I push gently. “And Decimus? How old was he?”

“In his twenties.” He’s wary, sensing by my tone that something’s not right.

Choosing my words carefully, I continue. “What was your relationship like? Did you feel you could say no to him?”

Varro’s eyes narrow and his brow lowers, uncertainty clouding his features. “He protected me, taught me things. He was… kinder than the others.”

“But did you have a choice?” I press softly. “If you didn’t want something, could you refuse?”

Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. Varro’s jaw clenches, his gaze fixed on the flames in the hearth. Slowly, realization dawns on that beautiful face, his chin tipping up. Numb awareness is followed by a flash of pain.

“By the Gods,” he whispers, voice rough. “I never… I never saw it that way before.”

Reaching out, my fingers brush his arm gently. “I’m so sorry, Varro. It’s lucky, really, that you didn’t feel forced. We all do what’s necessary to stay alive. But we see things through a different lens when we look from a distance.”

He turns to me, eyes searching mine. “What happened with Decimus wasn’t love. It was… what word did you use the other day, transactional?”

He doesn’t want an answer, so I slip my hand in his and watch as his attention returns to the fire—he’s clearly sorting things out.

We sit in silence for long minutes until he turns to me and asks, “So, what is it? What is love supposed to be?”

As my mind whirls, dissecting my past relationships, parsing through false starts, betrayals, cruel breakups, and slow deaths, he says, “My parents loved me. Of that I’m sure. And oh, how I loved my sisters…” His tone is sweet and wistful and tinged with grief, even after all these years.

“I… Varro, I’m not sure I know how to define love,” I admit, brow furrowing.

“But you’ve felt it before, haven’t you?” Varro asks, his tone curious, his gaze burrowing into me.

A rueful smile tugs at my lips. “I thought I had, in the past. But now I’m not so sure.”

His eyebrow quirks up. “If you thought it was love then, what makes you now think it wasn’t?”

My heart thunders in my chest, my palms suddenly sweaty. This is it—the moment of truth. Taking a deep breath, I meet his gaze. “Because I never felt for them the way I feel about you.”

Time stands still as my pulse pounds, a vein leaping on my neck, my throat dry.

Varro’s eyes widen, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face—surprise, hope, fear, and something else, something warm and tender. He reaches out, cupping my cheek in his calloused palm.

“Laura,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “This is true? You… love me?”

The way he asked that makes me wonder if I just committed the world’s biggest blunder. Am I going to live in the same little room with this between us—worse than the stink of garum—for the rest of our lives?

“I… I think I feel the same way about you.” His gaze spears into mine, searching my face for a hint of my response.

“Don’t.” I cover his lips with my fingers. “You don’t have to say it to me just because I said it to you. Honestly, I’ve known for some time. Please don’t feel pressured into saying it back.”

“I don’t.” His lips move under my fingers, sending sparks up my nerve endings.

Joy bubbles up inside me, threatening to overflow. Leaning into his touch, a smile spreads across my face. “Yeah? Really?” I sound like an eager child after being told she gets a puppy—excited and not quite believing his words.

“If feeling like I can’t get enough of you even though we’re together every minute of the day is love, then yes. If ordering myself a thousand times a day not to reach out and touch you is love, then yes. If wanting to rise before you to put logs on the fire and stay awake after you go to bed so I can ensure you’re covered and won’t get a chill is love, then yes. If thanking the Gods that I waited two thousand years under the sea so that you could discover me and revive me is love, then yes. Yes. I love you.”

Closing the distance between us, our foreheads touch. His breath mingles with mine, warm and comforting. In this moment, all the hardships we’ve faced, all the uncertainties of our future, fade away. There’s just us, here and now, two people who’ve found something precious in the most unlikely of places.

Varro traces his thumb across my cheekbone, his touch reverent. “What happens now?” he asks softly.

A chuckle escapes me. “Honestly? I have no idea. But whatever comes next, I’ll stay with you, Varro. I will do whatever it takes to ensure this wonderful, fragile thing we have endures.”

His close-lipped smile makes his face look boyish, even though there are crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Yes. I will do what it takes, too. How shall I start? ”

As we sit here, basking in this newfound understanding, there’s no hurry to answer that question. My mind wanders to the future. What does this mean for us? For our life on this island? The questions swirl in my head, but for once, I’m content to let them remain unanswered, at least for now.

“You know,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence, “I think I’d like to learn more about using that sword of yours.”

Varro’s eyebrow raises, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh? You like my sword of flesh?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I swat his arm. “The metal one, you barbarian. Invictus.”

Thankfully, he knows this is a joke, perhaps because of my heated gaze that is definitely not directed at Invictus, because he gets that bossy tone I’m growing to love as he snarls, “No. You don’t get Invictus now. First, I want you to teach me just how much pounding my female can take before she begs for mercy again. I think I will never grow tired of you begging me for misericordia , mercy, my love.”