by Monica Burns
"No. We both know the same man. Our rules aren't like your world, Emma. It makes a difference in how you should look at things."
"I know that all too well."
She opened her palm and looked at the scar there. It was a vivid reminder of how she was tied to Ares. A tie that needed to be broken, but one her heart didn't want to break. She looked up to see Lysander watching her closely.
"If you love him, you won't break the blood bond between you."
The words sucked all the air out of her lungs. He could have hit her and she wouldn't have been any more surprised. When Lysander said he'd overheard her conversation with Ares, he'd meant everything. She drew in a deep breath, frantic to cover anything that might confirm the man's observation.
"What makes you think I love him?" she breathed.
"Because you looked like your heart was breaking when I came in here in a little while ago." Sympathy was reflected in his gaze as he sent her a steady look. "You need to trust him, Emma."
"I did, and he betrayed that trust." Bitterness etched its way through her as she remembered how he'd made love to her knowing what sealing their bond meant. He hadn't given her a choice. A voice in the back of her head asked her what her answer would have been if he had allowed her to choose. She knew the answer, but she didn't want to acknowledge it.
"Men make mistakes, Emma. Some of us make bigger ones than others." Lysander stared off into space, his scarred flesh taut with some personal torment. "I've known Ares for a long time. If he broke his trust with you, he's paying the price now. But if you make him break the blood bond between you, he'll pay an even higher price."
"I don't see how." She got up from the counter to put her glass in the dishwasher.
"Honor is everything to a Sicari," Lysander said quietly. "Breaking a blood bond once it's sealed brings absolute disgrace."
The warrior's words made her chest constrict until it was difficult to breathe. She clutched at the sink and shook her head. "I don't know how to stop him."
"Tell him the truth."
"You make it sound so easy," she bit out angrily and she turned to face him. "But it's not, and you know it."
Lysander's expression was a cold facade of stone. Whatever he was feeling was well contained as he slowly rose to his feet. Regret swept through her.
"Lysander. I'm sorry."
He pinned her with that single-eyed gaze of his for barely an instant before he turned and headed out of the kitchen. He paused at the end of the counter, but didn't turn his head.
"You were right, Emma. I did make it sound easy. But it doesn't change anything. You still have a choice to make."
With that final remark, Lysander strode out of the kitchen. Left behind, Emma swallowed hard. What the hell was she going to do?
Chapter 18
ARES waited for the three clicks in his earpiece signaling the perimeter around Emma's house was secure. It would have been a lot easier to do this in the daytime if she hadn't been with them. He glanced at the rearview mirror to study Emma's features cast in the shadows from a nearby streetlight. Just the way she sat stiff and unmoving in the backseat said she was nervous.
Why the hell had he agreed to this? Because the only other option was to trust her safety to someone else. Something he wasn't about to do. She was his. How she felt about him changed nothing. He'd do whatever necessary to protect her. Her safety, her happiness, was all that mattered.
As if aware of him watching her, she turned her head away from the window and looked into the mirror. The moment their gazes locked, that icy expression she reserved just for him swept over her pale features. Her gaze barely registered his presence before she looked away from him as if he wasn't even in the car. Christus, if she'd wielded a sword, she couldn't have splayed him open any cleaner. He deserved every bit of her scorn, but a small piece of him died every time she looked through him like that.
Last night when he'd found her in the kitchen, she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. His first instinct had been to pull her into his arms. Instead, he'd forced himself to grab a beer from the frig. Anything to stop himself from touching her. And Deus, he'd needed to hold her. No sex, just her warmth against his icy chill. Her gentleness to ease the tumult inside him.
The job he'd finished with Lysander only an hour earlier had left him drained as always. No matter how repulsive the criminal, extracting final justice wasn't an easy thing to do. He didn't enjoy killing, but it was a necessary evil when it came to protecting the innocent. And if the Order's policy for pro bono work hadn't already been in place, he would have done last night's job for free.
His income came from the companies and properties that had been handed down through his family for generations. Over the centuries, the Order's investments had made it possible for the Sicari to become a silent, unpaid arm of legal systems around the globe. The Order performed its services for free as a way of helping others avoid the persecution and fear the Sicari had lived with for more than two thousand years.
They eliminated the worst criminal elements from society when the system failed due to technicalities or where ideology resulted in the persecution of innocents. The toughest jobs were ones like last night. A Sicari was never allowed to take pleasure in an execution, and last night it had been difficult not to make his target die a slow, excruciating death, let alone enjoy the act itself.
The bastardo had murdered two cops. Good cops. Men who were Vigilavi. Their forebears were people the Sicari had saved from life or death situations over the centuries. The Vigilavi had become an integral part of the Order, and their services in law enforcement, academics, medicine, and other areas were invaluable. But most important of all, they were family. And family was sacred.
Controlling his desire not to enjoy the kill had been exhausting, but there had been a deep feeling of satisfaction knowing justice had been served. The gratification had been fleeting and left him empty inside. But then he'd walked into the kitchen and seen Emma. The mere sight of her had made the night easier to bear. All of his despair had ebbed away, leaving only his love for her. He'd known since that day in the cabin that he loved her.
The revelation had hit him hard. It had nearly crushed him when she'd declared her contempt for him. He'd deserved every bit of her scorn, but knowing that hadn't eased his pain. Last night had been the first time he'd seen her since that day at the cottage. He'd deliberately stayed away from her, hoping that time would ease her anger so he could explain things. Make it right between them. He'd been banking everything on the fact that she hadn't spoken with Atia about breaking the blood bond. It had given him hope that maybe she was willing to forgive him. He'd been wrong.
The only reason she'd kept quiet was because she didn't have the heart to let Atia know what a bastardo he was. It was the truth. Tomorrow when he told his godmother what he'd done, she was going to be livid. But more than that, the Prima Consul was going to feel just as betrayed as Emma had been. Three clicks sounded in his ear and his tension eased slightly. He was still on edge, but the fact that Lysander and Phae had secured the area so quickly said his fears might have been exaggerated. He turned his head to Bastien in the seat next to him.
"We're clear. Bastien, the front perimeter is yours. Lysander will be at the back with Phae and Thaddeus serving as backup. You know the signal if you see trouble coming." He looked into the rearview mirror and willed Emma to meet his gaze. "Emma, you do as I say, when I say, or I'll drag you out of there so fast your head will spin. Understood."
Her answer was a simple nod of the head. It was obvious she didn't like being under his control, but he didn't care. This was his domain. All she had to do was follow directions. He exited the SUV and pulled out his Condottiere sheathed in its scabbard. The strap slipped easily over his shoulders to settle snugly against his back. He took comfort in the familiar sensation of the weapon being in easy reach. The car door behind him closed quietly. The sound made him turn his head to see Emma's pale features staring down the s
treet at her old home.
Fear had drawn her mouth tight with tension and the pulse at the side of her neck was beating at a frantic pace. She wore the same black the rest of the team had on, but on her, the dark color emphasized her pale face. He ached to pull her into his arms, but settled for capturing her chin with his fingers.
"You don't have to do this, Emma."
He fully expected her to jerk away from him, but she didn't. Instead, she almost seemed to lean into him as if seeking extra strength. The need to pull her close pulsated through him, and his thumb rubbed against the small indention beneath her mouth.
"Yes, I do." Her body trembled and vibrated against his fingers as she shook her head. "I'll be fine. I was just thinking about the last time I was here."
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he whispered. "I swear it."
"I know," she murmured with a small curve of her lips.
The half smile sent a bolt of lightning through him. Christus, had she suddenly had a change of heart about him? Had that look she'd given him earlier in the car simply been her fear? Now wasn't the time to consider the possibility. He needed to focus solely on the task at hand.
"Come on, the sooner we get this over with, the better."
She didn't try to tug free of his hand, and if anything, he could have sworn her hand tightened around his. It made his heart expand in his chest. At least she trusted him enough to ensure she didn't get hurt. Or maybe she just needed something to hold on to and he was handy. The thought nagged at him, but he pushed it aside. Focus.
The street was deserted as they moved quickly down the sidewalk. They cut across the front lawn to skirt the side of the house while Bastien took shelter in the shadows of the front lawn. In less than a minute, they were at the back door, where Phae and Thaddeus waited in the shadows. He couldn't see him, but he knew Lysander stood watch in dark shadows along the thick hedge that separated the backyard from the one next door.
Something dark reared its head deep in the back of his mind. It was more a sensation than a thought. A chill slid down his back, and he froze. He peered out into the darkness, the uneasy feeling not going away.
"Lysander. Bastien. Report," he said in a low staccato voice. He ignored Phae's look of concern as he waited for a response.
"All clear," his Primus Pilus said with quiet assurance.
"We're clear here." Bastien's voice was strong and confident in his ear, but Ares still hesitated.
"What's wrong?" Phae asked through clenched teeth as Thaddeus obeyed his silent command to fade into the darkness and serve as backup to the other two Sicari warriors on the grounds.
"You don't sense anything?" he replied softly as he met his sister's worried gaze.
"No. Nothing." She shook her head.
He frowned then cleared his mind and allowed his senses to become in tune with his surroundings. While his senses couldn't detect the smallest hint of danger, his gut continued to protest. He dismissed it. He was just on edge because Emma was with them.
"Stay out of sight, but keep a close eye on the door."
Phae nodded and disappeared into the darkness. With a wave of his hand, he unlocked the back door. The soft snap of the dead bolt sliding back echoed in the air, and he turned the knob. Like the last time he'd been here, the well-oiled hinges didn't make a sound as the heavy oak door swung back. He reached for Emma's hand and pulled her through the door behind him.
A thin beam of moonlight drifted through the kitchen window. He'd deliberately waited for a waning moon to ensure they had just enough light to help with visibility while still keeping their outside movements fairly well concealed. Wishing this whole thing were over, he pulled a compact flashlight from his pocket.
His thumb pressed the on-button once for the lowest setting. The last thing he needed was a nosy neighbor calling the police because they'd seen a moving light inside the house. They'd already alerted their police contacts of possible 911 calls, but he preferred to get in and out of there cleanly. Emma's hand still in his, they moved through the dining room and into the living room. A soft grunt echoed in his earpiece and he came to an abrupt halt, causing Emma to crash into him. Instinctively, he reached around to press his free hand into her back in a protective gesture, while she steadied herself by gripping his waist. Even through the leather jacket he wore, her fingers heated up his skin.
"Report," he snapped softly.
"Secure here," Lysander responded.
"Damn stray just pissed on my new boots," Bastien growled.
Phae suppressed her laughter with a snort over the mike while Thaddeus's soft chuckle echoed over the wireless connection.
"I told you not to have them custom-made, you dumb il figlio di puttana," Thaddeus snickered. "Guess they're officially broken in now."
Bastien uttered a soft oath in response to his friend's gentle barb. The brief moment of levity eased Ares's tension slightly and he bent his head to the shoulder mike he wore.
"Tighten up, people. I want this over with ASAP."
His hand slid across Emma's soft, rounded hip as he brought his hand forward and released his hold on her. The way she stiffened and didn't release him quickly made his heart jump. Was it possible--no, he wasn't going there. Especially not now.
They moved forward again, and in less than a minute, they stopped outside the doorway of Emma's study. The morning after rescuing Emma, he'd arranged repairs to the doorjamb and window. The last thing he needed was someone coming to the house and finding evidence of a struggle, which might raise questions. He didn't want Emma's cover blown.
Satisfied the room was empty, he stepped aside and allowed Emma to enter the office. Her tension filled the space between them, and it didn't ease as she crossed the threshold. When she didn't move deeper into the office, he reached out and touched her arm. She jumped away from him and he frowned.
"You're safe, Emma. We're all here to make sure nothing happens to you."
She nodded and moved toward the desk, her fingertips running along the wood desktop in a loving fashion. Slowly, she rounded the desk and headed for the bookcase filled with an equal mixture of books and artifacts. She picked up the Egyptian dagger she'd threatened him with just a few days ago, and turned her head to look at him. The sadness in her eyes gutted him.
He had a lot to pay for when it came to her. She returned the object back to the shelf, before moving on to the next item. Inside, his radar was urging her to hurry up, but he didn't say a word. He knew she needed this. He'd been an ass not to realize it sooner.
As a child, he'd left his home without a backward glance. In the space of minutes, his world had shattered the night his parents were murdered. But he'd been eager to escape because the horror of what he'd seen had obliterated all the happy moments the word "home" had once meant. Emma sighed as she put down another object, drawing his attention back to her. He suppressed the desire to cross the room and offer her a comforting embrace. Instead, he cleared his throat and muted his mike.
"All of this is going to be packed up and stored, Emma. When the Order gives you new quarters, it'll be there. Waiting for you. I promise."
"I know." The palm of her hand caressed the bookcase built into the wall. "It's just that you can't pack up the memories that reside in the walls themselves."
The sorrow in her voice intensified the guilt he was feeling. Rationally, he knew she was still alive because of him, but he still felt responsible for her losing everything. There wasn't a thing he could say to her to ease her pain and it left him feeling helpless. The sensation made him feel far worse than the guilt twisting his insides.
Emma, oblivious to his pain, moved to the end of the wall to kneel on the floor. Using the heel of her hand, she hit the two-inch-high baseboard running along the bottom of the shelves. The molding popped away from the bottom of the built-in wall unit to reveal a dark hole. Without being asked, he moved forward and directed the beam of his flashlight into the dark cubbyhole. Her hand trembling, Emma reached into
the cubbyhole and pulled out a small, but thick, notebook jam-packed with an odd assortment of papers. Happiness and sorrow flitted across her features as she stared down at the notebook.
"He must have known he was close to finding the Tyet of Isis or he'd never have left this here," she whispered as her hand caressed the leather cover.
In his earpiece, he heard a soft, indistinct sound that made him tense. A second later, he heard Bastien utter a curse, which ended before the man could finish it. In an instant, he doused the flashlight and was on his feet, dragging Emma with him.
"We're out of here."
"But--"
"Now, Emma." He turned his mike on again as he dragged her toward the office door. "Code One. We're on our way out."
He heard the hushed voices of everyone but Bastien as they confirmed the alert and current status. The fighter's silence was a clear indicator something was seriously wrong. They'd just reached the doorway when a tall figure blocked the way. Fotte. Praetorian. In a simultaneous action, Ares drew his sword and gave Emma a hard mental shove back toward the desk and out of reach.