picked up his pace.
Gerlach cast a small object to one of his cohorts, Kester. He leaned over Tibi and placed his thick hands on her slim shoulders. The way he leered at her and his mistaken belief that he was allowed to touch the girl in any way infuriated Alexius. The fear shining in Tibi’s face before she was able to hide it filled his vision with a red haze. The monster inside him rattled its cage. Hay crunched under his sandals just as he imagined how Gerlach’s jaw would do beneath the force of his fist.
The cheers and greetings of his men faded to murmurs and questions of concern the closer he drew near. Ignoring them all, he swept past the game pen that housed the majority of his troupe and continued on his course toward Gerlach.
Alexius’s presence drew the Germanian’s attention. Seeing him, Gerlach switched focus. His arrogance fled. His hands dropped away from Tibi, the bully’s game of intimidation forgotten in light of his lanista’s arrival.
“Greetings, mas—”
Alexius swung. The satisfying sound of a bone cracking rent the air at the same time a bolt of pain traveled through Alexius’s hand and up his arm. Gerlach hit the ground. His cohorts, Laelius and Kester, jumped back. Breathing heavily, he ignored the men’s harried explanations, his main concern to comfort Tibi.
“Are you all right?” he asked. That she appeared unharmed soothed some of the bloodlust coursing through his veins.
Wide-eyed and pale, she nodded. “Are you?”
The breathy quality of her voice rippled over his skin like the finest silk. With trembling fingers she reached out to take his hand in hers. The knuckles were bloodied, but unbroken.
“It’s no more than a scratch.” Resisting the urge to take her in his arms and carry her back to the ludus, he slipped his hand from hers. His men were close by and watching them with interest. She was scandal-ridden enough. He didn’t want to add to her woes.
“It doesn’t look like a scratch.”
A rapid tattoo at the base of her throat snagged his attention and a sudden, irrational need to brush his thumb over the creamy spot consumed him. Frowning, he clenched his fists at his sides, confused by her singular effect on his self-control.
“What happened here? Where’s Darius?” he demanded more roughly than he intended. “Why aren’t you in his care as you ought to be?”
“He’s speaking with the editor. These men—”
“We were going through today’s stances,” Laelius interrupted in a quick bid to gain Alexius’s notice. “Gerlach found this runt and thought to have a little fun before we make for the ring. The girl interrupted.”
“They were torturing the poor cub.” Tibi moved to Alexius’s side. “Throwing it in the air and laughing at its cries of terror…”
He looked down only to find her pleading eyes were twin pools of misery. His heart twisted. Whatever it took, he’d see her made happy.
“When…when Gerlach told this other man to toss him the cub with the intent to skewer the poor animal, I could take no more. I realize we’re surrounded by cruelty in this place, that you gladiators are numb to barbarity, but that cub, it’s so small…so defenseless.”
Gerlach groaned. The hay rustled as he struggled to sit up. Alexius ignored him. He ignored everything except Tibi. She’d always had an unfair hold on him. He’d promised Caros to keep his distance from her, but that didn’t make him blind to her beauty or immune to her innate charm. She was kind and lively, intelligent without being crafty. But in this instance her earnest concern and deep well of compassion impressed him most. She had serious worries of her own to mull over, yet she possessed the rare ability to look beyond herself, to care for something as insignificant as a panther’s runt.
“Give her the cub,” he ordered Laelius without taking his eyes off Tibi.
Her relief evident, Tibi reached for the quivering animal. Cooing softly to calm its mewling cries, she cuddled the black ball of fur close to her chest and stroked its sleek head. “It’s not a runt,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his. “It’s newly born. Its eyes have yet to open. Where do you think his mother is? This little one will starve without her.”
“She was killed in the venatio this morning. By now, the beast is on the butcher block with the street orphans already waiting in line for the carcass,” Laelius sneered as he extended a hand to help Gerlach to his feet.
“How do you know?” Alexius demanded.
“The cub was found half-covered by hay near those empty cages over there.”
Alexius watched Tibi’s face leech of color as she realized the empty cages had housed the animals killed in the game hunts earlier that morning. “I didn’t consider… What can we do?”
Hearing the we, Alexius groaned inwardly. The catch in her voice was his undoing. The only way to save the wretch was to buy it. He’d have to look for the editor and work out an acceptable price. He smiled ruefully to himself. If the negotiations went as well as the day had gone thus far, it was going to cost him a fortune to a save a worthless animal he didn’t want or need. To his surprise, he was willing to pay almost any price to ease Tibi’s distress.
As he watched Laelius help Gerlach toward the underground tunnel that linked the Coliseum to the gladiator hospital, he caught sight of Darius and Spurius, the editor of the games, walking toward him. He reached for the cub, but Tibi held firm. “What are you going to do?” she asked suspiciously. “You won’t hurt him, will you?”
Alexius almost laughed. She seemed to think she could stop him from taking the little beast if he chose. “I won’t hurt him. I’m going to buy him for you.”
“For me? But—”
“You want him, no?”
“Of course, but that isn’t the issue. I have nowhere to keep him. I only wanted your gladiators to stop hurting him.”
The hopeful light in her eyes encouraged him. “We’ll work out the arrangements later. For now, the editor is coming this way. Let me negotiate with him while I have the chance. He’s a cur who’s quick to take advantage of any situation. If you want to help this animal and keep your identity a secret, hide your face and stand behind me. Try not to draw undue attention to yourself.”
Tibi’s mouth twisted with unasked questions, but she hurried to hand him the cub. Her cowl had slipped and she made quick work of readjusting the gray wool to completely conceal her distinctive hair and features.
“Greetings, Alexius,” Spurius called, his legendary girth making for slow progress down the hay-strewn path. “I’ve gone over the day’s proceedings with Darius. Your troupe is scheduled for battle within the hour. I’ll leave it to him to fill you in on the details.”
“They’re ready,” he said with a confidence born from experience.
“They always are,” agreed Spurius, as he came to a stop an arm’s length away. “Of course, it’s you the mob comes to see. What do you have there?”
“A runt Gerlach found in the hay. Apparently, its mother died in the ring this morning. How much do you want for it?”
“No,” Spurius said, gasping to catch his breath. “I mean, who do you have there?” He pointed a knobby finger over Alexius’s shoulder.
Alexius grinned to hide his rising tension. “No one of importance.”
“What a pity. She’s tall enough to be an Amazone. I let myself hope you’d trained a gladiatrix to fight as a gift for the crowd.”
“No, but I might consider it,” he said, careful to sound intrigued, since women were a favored spectacle in the arena, although they were few and far between. “About the runt—”
“If