by Monica Burns
“Tribune,” he gasped. “It’s Giuseppe and Santino. They’re fighting again.”
Dante muttered something under his breath, and for some reason she didn’t think it was due to the interruption. In fact, he seemed almost relieved.
“Where are they, Pietro?”
“In the big training room.”
“I need to take care of this,” Dante said as he looked at her with an odd glint in his eyes. “I’ll have someone do reconnaissance to back up your data, and we’ll go from there.”
With that, he strode out of the library followed by the small boy. Cleo stared after them with frustration.
“Fuck.”
The word echoed fiercely in the large room. The man had been about to kiss her. She knew it. She blew out a harsh puff of air. In less than twenty-four hours, Dante had managed to turn her life upside down almost as easily as her mother had more than a week ago. She wasn’t sure she was ready for another upheaval. No, not an upheaval. It would be an inferno, and Dante Condellaire would consume her. But then a little bit of fire could be a good thing. The erotic image the thought brought to mind made her smile, and she ran after him. The man wasn’t going to walk away from her that easily.
Chapter 13
DANTE hurried down the hall with Pietro running to keep up. As they reached the stairs to the second floor, he heard footsteps pounding behind him. Cleopatra. He muttered a fierce imprecation. Christus, he’d almost kissed her a moment ago. Was he insane? The fact that his body was on full alert the minute he came within five feet of her made him tighten his mouth with irritation.
What in Juno’s name was wrong with him? Why did the woman affect him like this? She was like a hot wind blasting at his senses whenever he got near her. With a grunt of frustration at the thought, he took the stairs two at a time.
At the top of the stairwell, he could hear the sound of steel crashing against steel echoing nearby. Goddamnit, he was going to teach Giuseppe and Santino a lesson today they wouldn’t forget. He strode down the glass-enclosed corridor overlooking the inner courtyard toward the largest training room in the Absconditus complex.
Padded from floor to ceiling, the room was devoid of any kind of equipment other than the swords his two troublemakers were wielding. He barely had time to wonder where the instructor was when an unseen force sent Santino flying backward until he hit the padded wall behind him and slid to the floor. As Giuseppe leaped forward with his sword high over his head, Dante envisioned jerking the weapon from the boy’s hand and dropping it to the floor.
“That’s enough,” he said in an authoritative tone.
In seconds, both boys were scrambling to go down on one knee in a bow of respect. The children who’d been watching the fight immediately came to attention. Pietro had joined the other children, and Dante caught the look of fear on the child’s face. Mentally, he squeezed the boy’s shoulder. As their gazes met, a look of relief swept over the six-year-old’s face.
No sooner had he silently reassured Pietro than his senses went into overdrive as Cleopatra entered the room. He didn’t have to see her to know exactly where she was. It was as if he had a homing beacon inside him fine-tuned to her frequency. He drew in a quick, angry hiss of air as he realized he wasn’t focusing on the issue at hand.
Turning his attention back to the troublemakers, he moved to stand in front of them. He didn’t speak for a long moment, deliberately letting the silence in the room stretch out the tension radiating off the boys.
“Why are you in here without an instructor?” The quiet question made the two boys look at each other for a moment before they ducked their heads.
“Well?” This time he didn’t bother to hide his displeasure.
“We wanted to settle our argument by ourselves.” Giuseppe sounded as if he was trying to give the answer Dante wanted to hear as opposed to the real reason.
“So you invited the others to come watch?” Dante growled as he glanced at the younger children in the room. “Do you realize one of them could have gotten hurt while viewing this stunt of yours?”
The two teenagers paled significantly at his words. They looked at each other before bowing their heads again. The fact that they recognized the danger they’d put the other children in pleased Dante, but it didn’t make him any less angry. They’d disobeyed orders by fighting unsupervised.
“Who started this?” he asked.
“I did, Tribune.” Santino lifted his head to meet Dante’s gaze with a look of regret. Somehow Dante didn’t think the boy’s regret was so much for having started the fight as it was for being caught.
“Explain.”
“Giuseppe said I would never pass the third Tabulati.” There was a belligerent note to the teenager’s voice despite the look of trepidation on his face. Dante arched his eyebrow.
“Since the third lesson of the Novem Conformavi is that of temperance and restraint, do you think Giuseppe is correct in his assessment, Santino?”
The boy’s facial expression didn’t change, but Dante could see the rigid tension in him. Suddenly a smile brightened Santino’s face. “No, Tribune. I believe Giuseppe is wrong. He was about to beat me, and I demonstrated great restraint by letting him do so.”
It was a clever response, and Dante immediately bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing outright at Santino’s answer. Behind him, Cleopatra made a choked sound. Like him, she was obviously trying not to laugh. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain he acknowledged that he liked that she had a good sense of humor. Standing next to his brother, Giuseppe uttered a vocal disagreement. Dante sent the boy a silent admonishment before he turned his head back to Santino.
“Humor is a good thing, Santino. One can only hope you will be equally amused by your punishment,” Dante said quietly. “I hope during your Castigatio you both show the same equal restraint with me.”
The brothers both paled at his words, and the sound of Cleopatra’s sharp breath of dismay made his mouth tighten with irritation. Did the woman actually think he’d beat Santino and Giuseppe? He intended to teach the boys a lesson, not hurt them. He’d never liked seeing the Castigatio used on men. While discipline meant the difference between life and death, he found the ancient punishment less than effective.
A senior officer using a staff to punish those who’d disobeyed was more likely to breed anger and rebellion, not respect. Like the Order, the Absconditus rarely used the punishment, as there were other discipline methods available for a seasoned fighter. Where younger members of the Absconditus were concerned, the Indictio was generally a strong enough consequence to emphasize the need for discipline in all things.
The hard labor of scrubbing a bathroom with a toothbrush, painting a wall over and over again, or some other repetitive menial task seemed to work wonders for most children. For Santino and Giuseppe, the Indictio hadn’t worked, so he was left with little choice but to scare the daylights out of the two. The brothers were well aware that Dante’s version of the Castigatio meant they had to fight him, and their chances of winning were nonexistent.
The two teenagers slowly got to their feet. The look on their faces indicated they dreaded what was to come. Both boys readied their swords, but with a small flick of his fingers, he envisioned their weapons tugged violently out of their hands. With another thought, he sent the swords whistling upward through the air until the blades slammed into the ceiling.
He didn’t have to look at Cleopatra or the other children to sense their surprise. His attention focused on Giuseppe and Santino, he narrowed his eyes at the two brothers staring up at the swords embedded in the roof. Their fear was almost a tangible force, and he folded his arms across his chest with a sense of grim satisfaction.
“Since you think fighting is the best way to solve your problems, you shouldn’t have any problem expending your anger on me.” His thoughts brushed against the minds of the two boys who stood motionless in front of him. “Begin.”
For a moment, he wasn’t su
re either one of them was going to obey his silent command. Suddenly, Giuseppe did a quick tuck and roll in an effort to get past Dante. Effortlessly, he sidestepped the boy and visualized his hand cracking against the boy’s rear. Giuseppe yelped at the invisible blow, rubbing his backside as he got to his feet. Dante turned to face the boy. A snicker from one of the smallest children watching the match made Giuseppe glare at the offender, and Dante mentally pictured his leg sweeping Giuseppe’s feet out from under him.
“Pay attention, Giuseppe. Distractions can get you killed.” His thoughts were harsh inside the boy’s head.
Santino’s thoughts filtered their way into Dante’s mind, and without turning around, he saw the boy launch himself into the air a full second before Santino actually moved. The blow the teenager had planned to land on Dante’s head never materialized. Without moving, Dante visualized grabbing the boy’s feet the minute Santino threw himself up into the air. A moment later the boy was hanging upside down where Dante left him for several seconds. Slowly, he walked around the boy dangling in front of him. When he released his mental grip on the teenager, Santino collapsed to the training mat with a cry of surprise.
“Praetorians can read your mind easily if you allow them. You told me what you planned to do, Santino, even though I couldn’t see you.”
As Santino scrambled to his feet, Giuseppe launched himself forward in an attempt to surprise Dante, who immediately threw up an invisible wall that Giuseppe crashed into. The boy grunted then reeled backward to crash down onto the mat and stare up at the ceiling with an expression of surprise that made Dante frown.
“Don’t just lay there, Giuseppe. A Praetorian would have his sword deep in your chest at this point.”
Behind him, he sensed Santino closing off his thoughts. The boy was a quick learner. A good trait for a Patrician. Santino rushed forward, his plan of attack almost completely obscured. But with a gentle probe of the boy’s mind, he saw what the teenager had planned. Neatly, he sidestepped Santino’s swiftly thrown punch intended for Dante’s jaw and the foot meant for his side. It was easy to envision his hands on the boy’s shoulders before he whirled Santino around to face the opposite direction and gave the boy a swift kick in the rear with an invisible boot.
“If I can read your mind, a Praetorian can, too. Don’t ever forget that.”
For more than fifteen minutes, he forced the boys to attack him until they were clearly exhausted. With each successive defeat, the teenagers got to their feet more slowly, and their expressions showed how demoralized they were. Yet despite their punishment, they both refused to surrender. It was a characteristic that might save them in the future, but he still wasn’t sure they’d learned their lesson.
Time would tell. With an oath of irritation, he jerked his head in a quick, sharp movement. A second later, his thoughts lifted both teenagers off their feet, causing them to shout with surprise and fear. His mental ability carried the brothers across the mat to where he dumped them in front of him.
“Get up.” His command was a vicious growl, and the boys scrambled to their feet to stand at attention. Dante leaned down so his face was level with theirs. “Fighting amongst ourselves makes us weak. Something the Praetorians want us to be. Neither one of you is ready to move up to the next Tabulati of the Novem Conformavi. If I’d been a Praetorian, both of you would have been dead in less than a minute. The next time I catch you fighting, I’ll see to it that Placido administers your Castigatio. He won’t be as forgiving as me. Capisci?”
White as ghosts, the boys bobbed their heads vigorously in silent acknowledgment of the warning. Whenever Dante had done something wrong as a kid, Placido had always managed to put the fear of Jupiter in him. From the looks on Giuseppe’s and Santino’s faces, it was clear the old Sicari Lord’s name still inspired fear and awe. With a deep, low sound rumbling in his chest, Dante sent the boys a harsh stare.
“The two of you will remain here until both of those swords have been retrieved using nothing but your abilities.” Dante straightened upright to look at the other children in room. “As for the rest of you, the show is over.”
His words sent all the children racing toward the door. He saw Cleopatra quickly step out of the way of the stampede, and without another look at the brothers, he crossed the gym’s floor toward her. Heat assaulted his body the minute he reached her side, and he suppressed a groan. Disciplining Giuseppe and Santino had drained his mental abilities substantially, which would make it difficult to block out the sensations Cleopatra aroused in him. To avoid touching her, he gestured for her to precede him through the doorway. Just outside the door, Pietro stood waiting for him.
“I didn’t mean to get them in trouble, Tribune.” There was a note of trepidation in the child’s voice, and he saw Cleopatra wince. The discomfort he noticed in her expression snagged its way into his consciousness before it eased. Dante squatted so he was at eye level with the child and shook his head.
“You didn’t get them in trouble, Pietro. All you did was come tell me what was happening,” Dante said quietly. “You did the right thing. Someone could have gotten hurt if you hadn’t come to find me.”
“You don’t think Giuseppe and Santino will be mad at me, do you?”
“Not after I talk to them,” Dante said with a smile. He playfully rubbed the child’s head. “Go on now. You’re all going to be in trouble the minute Cornelia hears what happened.”
The boy’s eyes widened at the revelation, and then he nodded his head and raced off down the hall without having to be told twice. Dante watched him go as he straightened upright.
“You’re really good with kids,” Cleopatra said in a warm voice, and he turned his head to look at her in surprise. Her praise was just as unexpected as the pleasure her words gave him. “Do fights like that happen often?”
“Santino and Giuseppe are brothers. They’re always fighting about something,” Dante said with a slight smile as he met her curious gaze. “But they know well enough not to fight without supervision. One of the younger children could have been hurt.”
As they started walking back toward the stairs, Dante’s hand accidentally brushed against Cleopatra’s. His throat immediately closed up at the sensations barreling through him, and his walk became rigid as they proceeded down the hallway.
“Several of the children in the room were pretty young,” Cleopatra murmured. “At what age does a child start the Novem Conformavi ?”
“Somewhere between the ages of five and six.” At his statement, she came to an abrupt halt and stared at him in horror.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I was five when I started the Novem Conformavi. To complete all nine levels usually takes anywhere from twenty to twenty-five years.” At his words, she gasped.
“Five. That’s so young. Not even the Order trains anyone before the age of nine.”
“The Novem Conformavi is more than a training program. It teaches the art of self-defense and how to use our abilities. It’s a way of life. A commitment,” he said in a harsh tone as he remembered his oath.
“But five?” She shook her head in dismay. “It’s so young. Don’t their parents object?”
“With the exception of two, all of the children in that room today were orphans.”
“All of them?” she whispered as she looked up at him.
The color drained from Cleopatra’s beautiful face, and a haunted expression swept across her features. The heartache in her violet eyes was intense, and it tugged at his heart. A sharp pang stabbed at his thoughts, and in the next instant, her emotions engulfed his senses in a way he’d never experienced with anyone before.
It was as if their thoughts had merged to become one. The connection he’d experienced with her before had been nothing compared to this. This was a tangible and real force barreling through him. He wasn’t simply aware of her pain—he experienced it. The image of a Praetorian blade biting into her stomach, killing her unborn child, made his body burn with excruciati
ng agony. Christus, how long had she been living with this anguish? He dragged her into his arms in a hopeless attempt to absorb all her pain into his body and ease her suffering. Her torment was his, and it was a raw wound that dug as deep into his soul as hers.
“The bastardi,” he rasped softly as images from her past continued to flash through his head.
Gently stroking her hair, he held her tight as she trembled in his arms. The violence of her tremors made his heart ache for her. It was bad enough she’d lost her baby, but to lose her ability to have another child made it even more tragic and heartbreaking. Images flowed fast between them, and the image of a man walking away from her made him tighten his embrace. Someone had deserted her. His jaw hardened with anger at the thought as he waited for her shudders to end.
After several minutes, her trembling subsided, and like an outgoing tide, her emotions receded from him as well. When she retreated from his arms, it was as if his lungs had been deprived of precious air. His reaction set off an alarm in the deep recesses of his mind, but he ignored it. All he cared about at the moment was easing her suffering if he could. He framed her lovely face with his hands and stared down at her.
This wasn’t the same woman he’d met in a dark alleyway who’d defeated two Praetorians single-handedly. Violet eyes wide with anguish revealed a fragile, vulnerable woman. It stirred something to life deep inside him. The fierce protective emotion swelling inside him set off more alarms that he paid no heed to. He could deal with the aftermath later. All he could think of at the moment was to do everything in his power to keep her safe from anything and anyone who might hurt her.
She pulled free of his grasp and turned her head away from him. He watched her swallow hard as she fought to collect herself. The fact that she hadn’t cried troubled him. It wasn’t healthy to keep so much pain and suffering locked up inside her. As she looked at him, a shuttered expression crossed her features in her attempt to hide her pain from him. It was too late for that.