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infirmary.
    She watched until they disappeared from sight. When the rest of the fighters began to file past her, she turned to leave as well.
    The sound of her name echoing in the now empty space halted her where she stood.
    She glanced at him from over her shoulder, her look scathing before she continued on her way.
    He called her name again, but she ignored him, trudging ahead, even as she acknowledged her actions were foolish. To defy her doctoris was not wise for she could be severely punished, yet she could not talk to Cyrus. She could barely look at him after what he’d done.
    All she wished to do was retreat to her quarters before the tears stinging her eyes slipped down her cheeks and she cried once again.
    “I said stop, Aurora.”
    Cyrus’ voice thundered with authority, and she did not mistake the caged fury simmering just beneath the surface.
    She stopped, spinning around, a small gasp tumbling from her lips when she realized he stood less than an arm’s length away, much closer than she’d imagined.
    “What is it?” she snapped, recovering herself. “What is it you wish to say to me that your lash cannot say for you?”
    He winced, though his eyes shimmered with anger, the same emotion surely present in her own.
    “I had no choice—”
    Her laugh was bitter. “You had no choice? You are a big, powerful gladiator. Could you not have pulled me off of him? Could you not have commanded one of your men to do the same?”
    Her voice shook, but she blinked her eyes, refusing to cry before this man— because of this man, because of what he’d done, what she realized he’d had to do.
    “You were crazed Aurora, as if you were not yourself. I called your name a dozen times. I could not be certain you would not turn your rage upon my men, and I was too far away to stop you before you killed him.”
    His words deflated her and she hung her head in shame. “Will he be alright?”
    “I do not know,” Cyrus said quietly and his expression softened. “Do you wish to tell me what happened back there?”
    When she shook her head, he let out a long, weary breath. “I realize Primus, along with many of the recruits are difficult, but you cannot beat them to death. You are lucky Claudius encourages such savagery and will not punish you, but you may have made things worse for yourself here.”
    “I know,” she mumbled, because that was all she could say. He did not need to tell her that with her moment of rage, she had made herself a target for retaliation.
    She turned to leave, but stopped when Cyrus’ fingers brushed the skin along her arm where she’d caught his whip. She stared at the long, tanned length of his fingers gently stroking her marked flesh.
    A restless spark of heat ignited in her belly, and she bit back a gasp, her gaze snapping to his face. She swallowed deeply as his fingers trailed the length of her arm, across her shoulder.
    When he cupped her cheek with his callused palm, a deep sexual hunger stirred to life at the core of her. He stared at her beneath heavy lidded eyes, and she knew he felt it—this pulsing, throbbing awareness between them.
    Her lips parted, and her chest heaved when he leaned in closer, while her lungs burned with the raw, male scent of him, mixed with sweat and desire. When his thumb began to brush across her lips, she could no longer stem all of the sensations coursing through her. She moaned, a slight breathy sound that floated between them, drawing him ever closer.
    “I am sorry,” he said softly, hoarsely. “I would never wish to strike you, but I cannot treat you any differently than the rest of the fighters.”
    He was close, so close that if she lifted on her toes, and he leaned in, their lips would touch in a kiss she had no doubt would melt her bones. Instead of doing just that, she pulled away, and his hand dropped to his side curling into a ball.
    Aurora did not care that he was sorry. He would never know how deeply he’d just wounded her, not physically,