31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
T hrax
The cafeteria is filled with the clatter and conversation of the hospital staff, but I barely notice. My plate sits in front of me, untouched, the aroma of roasted chicken and vegetables failing to tempt me. I’m a big man with a healthy hunger, but not tonight. Tonight, my stomach churns with a different kind of hunger.
Varro and Laura’s voices wash over me as they discuss something about current events. I should be listening; after all, this is my world now. But my mind keeps replaying Skye’s words from earlier: “Will you come to my room after dinner tonight?”
What did she mean by that? Am I reading too much into her invitation? Perhaps she simply wants to show me that Firefly TV program she keeps mentioning. My gaze is drawn to Skye, then quickly darts away. Even looking at her feels dangerous right now, like I might burst into flames from my lust.
The server who brings water refills catches my attention—not because of her movements, but because of the intricate designs that wind up her forearms. The ink tells a story in swirling patterns and vibrant colors, so different from the crude marks that identified some gladiators in my time. Those were more like brands than art, marks of ownership rather than personal choice.
“You like them?” she asks, noticing my stare.
I nod, searching for the right words. “They’re… beautiful. The colors, the way they flow. Different from the marks in my time—I mean, in my old country.”
She smiles, pleased. “Thanks! Each one means something special to me. That’s the best part about tattoos—you can choose what story you want to tell.”
Choose what story to tell. The idea plants in my mind like a seed, though I’m not sure why.
“Thrax?” Varro’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Are you feeling alright? You’ve hardly touched your food.”
Forcing a smile, I nod. “I’m fine. Just… not very hungry.”
Laura raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. Instead, she launches into a detailed description of properties they’ve been looking at in Missouri. I try to focus on her words, grateful for the distraction.
Skye shifts beside me, her thigh brushing against mine. The contact, though innocent, sends a jolt through my body. I grip the edge of the table, willing myself to stay calm.
As Varro and Laura continue their discussion, I feel Skye’s hand slip under the table. Her fingers find mine, intertwining with a gentle squeeze. My breath catches in my throat. How can such a simple touch feel so intimate?
Her hand leaves mine, and for a moment, I feel the loss. But then her palm lands on my thigh, just above my knee. My muscles tense under her touch. Slowly, torturously, her hand slides upward.
Skye, meanwhile, seems perfectly at ease. She nods along with Laura’s words, even offering insights about potential renovations and improvements to the properties. The way she follows the conversation while unraveling my self-control is as impressive as Minerva spinning threads on her loom.
My heart thunders in my chest, so loudly that I’m certain everyone at the table must hear it. Possibly, everyone in the dining room, the kitchen, and maybe passengers in the airplanes overhead are wondering where the loud thump, thump, thump is coming from. Blood rushes in my ears, drowning out the surrounding conversation. How can Skye appear so calm, so engaged in the discussion, when her touch is setting my body aflame?
“So, what do you think, Thrax?” Laura’s question barely registers.
“I… uh…” I stammer, having no idea what they’ve been talking about.
Skye jumps in smoothly. “I think Thrax is just tired. Between sparring with Varro and our training session earlier, I imagine he might want to go to bed early tonight. Right, Thrax?”
I thought she was the kindest woman I’ve ever met, but now I believe she’s evil. She’s taunting me. My cock has been thick since we sat down. When her tiny hand was traveling up my thigh, it hardened even more. Now it’s firm as polished marble, and the innocent smirk on her face tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
I nod, pretending to answer her question as I use all my effort to ignore the way her fingers are now tracing patterns on my inner thigh.
As the meal winds down, Varro and Laura stand to leave. “Well, we should get going,” Laura says, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You two have a… fun evening.”
My face burns as I realize she’s known what’s been happening under the table this whole time. Varro looks confused for a moment before Laura whispers something in his ear. His eyes widen, and he chuckles as they walk away .
Finally alone, I turn to Skye. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright with desire. “So,” she says, her voice low and husky, “how fast do you think we can make it to my room?”
Every muscle in my body tightens as the full meaning of her words sinks in. This is really happening. Standing up, I offer her my hand. “Let’s find out,” I reply, surprised by the steadiness in my voice.
As we leave the cafeteria, my body thrums with anticipation. Whatever happens next, I know one thing for certain: nothing in my two thousand years of existence has been as good as what’s in store for me tonight.