It's the third time they meet when she comes to realize he's very protective of her. She blushes under his gaze and at the same time cannot look away. No, not when he's staring at her like that.
It's in the darkness of his eyes, the shadows they cast on his cheekbones. His strong limbs linked together in rope and chain but defiance bursting from every hair of his arm, every cut sustained from fight. It's the third time they meet when she knows she is very much protective of him as well. It goes without saying but she does not want him to be a slave. She has the deepest respect for him.
His eyes follow her and study her. They dance with hers in the dim light, moments before he puts out a hand asking her to ride behind him. He's saying come with me. Although it's her arms that are wrapped around him after she takes the offer, securing him to her, she also feels it's the other way around.
And by the time she's being dragged away from the arena after thrusting forward a thumb to stop his slaughter, one look back tells her this much: he would die for her. She is his.