Assassin's Heart

by Monica Burns

  “Marta?”

  The one word question was little more than a hiss of air, and she saw Ares struggle to come up with an answer. They’d found Dominic and Peter, but the Sicari woman was gone. Marta would live, but in a living hell. The Praetorian bastardi would rape her constantly both for physical pleasure and in an effort to impregnate her. Any children Marta bore would be taken from her. The males raised in the Praetorian Collegium and the females murdered. The woman would have been better off dying in that warehouse. Without hesitating, she went to the opposite side of the bed.

  “They took her,” she said, hating herself for it. She should have lied to him, but he would eventually learn the truth. Stretching out her hand, she lightly touched him on the shoulder. With a violent jerk, he retreated from her hand.

  “No.” His dark growl was fierce and intense.

  “Take it easy, pal.” Ares gently grasped the warrior’s arm. “It’s just Phae. You’re safe here.”

  “Leave, now.”

  He didn’t say her name, but she knew he meant her, and the demand sent pain slicing through her until she swayed on her feet. Fingers wrapped tightly around the cold metal of the bedside rail, she met his gaze with her heart pounding like mad in her chest. Something wasn’t right. She could almost feel the erratic swell of his emotions crawling across her skin. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Nothing was truly discernible except the bleak darkness that consumed him. Wild and thrashing, it was frightening in its intensity.

  Deus, it would eat him alive if he didn’t release it. It wasn’t unusual for her to feel or see emotions or images when she healed someone. If she healed him, he might be able to release some of the dark emotion inside him through her. The thought of taking on that horrifying darkness sent a streak of terror slithering down her spine like a serpent poised to strike. She shuddered. It didn’t matter. She could do this. She could do it for him.

  “Ares, leave us.” Her soft command whispered across the bed, and Lysander almost

  managed to jerk upright.

  “No.” This time his objection was stronger, more forceful. Determined to get him to agree to the Curavi, she glared down at him.

  “Lie back down, you dumb bacciagalupe. You’re going to rip out some stitches or worse, your IV,” she snapped fiercely. “Ares, get the hell out of here, now.”

  The furious response silenced both men, and without another word, Ares left the room. Alone with Lysander, she held on to the metal bar of the bed guard for dear life and stared down at the stranger in the hospital bed. Her voice died in her throat at his granite expression. Dulcis matris Deus, what had they done to him, and would she survive the knowledge?

  “Leave, Phaedra.” Cold and detached, the command made her flinch.

  “Not until you let me try to heal you.” She fought to keep her voice steady, yet resolute. “There might still be a chance I can—”

  “You don’t know when to give up, do you?” His voice was husky with pain, but there was an odd note in his voice that had her nerve endings standing on end.

  “No. Not if I believe I can help you.”

  “I don’t want your help.” He shifted in the bed slightly, a grunt breaking past his lips. She had to stiffen her body to keep from reaching out to touch him.

  “I know you’re worried about my pain, but it comes with the territory. I promise you, I won’t melt.” Her words tugged a soft laugh from him. It was a cruel sound, and it made her flinch.

  “Stop trying so hard, Phaedra. There’s no need to get sentimental on me.” The chiseled expression on his face didn’t reveal anything. “We both know you can’t give me back my eye.”

  “You don’t know that, and we won’t find out if you don’t at least let me try.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” she gasped. “Because I want you whole again.”

  “You want me whole again.” He repeated her words with a sarcasm that cut deep.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  She grabbed his forearm in anger. He knew damn well what she was trying to say. She

  wanted to erase the horror he’d endured. She wanted to try and ease the darkness she sensed in him. Free him from the inner pain that was gnawing at him like a mad dog. An invisible pressure pried her fingers off his arm.

  “Look, all I want is you out of this room and away from me,” he said in a disgusted voice.

  She shivered. He was hurt. That was all. He’d seen the horror on her face last night. He knew what a healer went through during the Curavi. He had to have known that first sight of him had triggered fear. It was why he’d refused her touch. It’s why he was rejecting her now. He was looking for a reason to get rid of her. But she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

  “Christus, do you really think it matters to me what you look like?” She smacked the cold stainless steel barrier between them with desperate fury. “I don’t give a damn what you look like as long as I’m with you.”

  Her words hung in the air for a long minute as he just stared at her, his expression slowly easing into one of amusement. It sent a wild streak of fear winding through her.

  “With me?” His snort of laughter held a note of cold cruelty that made her clutch at the bed rail in a frantic effort to stop her trembling.

  “Yes, the other night …” Her voice trailed off for a second as a sneer tugged at his mouth and his eyebrow went skyward. When he didn’t speak, she stumbled forward. “I thought that … you and I—”

  “Come on, bambina.” His green eye held an insolent gleam as he raked his gaze from her face to her breasts then back up again. “The sex wasn’t bad, but did you really see it going beyond a onenighter?”

  The words hit her with the force of a hard slam to the training mat. She couldn’t move. All she could do was struggle to find a way to absorb the blow. Her grip on the steel rail tightened to the point she was certain she would bend the metal. He was lying. He had to be. Didn’t he? She stared at the amused condescension on his face, her stomach lurching with a nausea that made her want to throw up.

  “If you’re doing this because you think last night changed things between us—”

  “Look, dolcezza, it was just one fuck. Let’s not make it into something bigger than that.”

  If his words weren’t crippling enough, the boredom in his voice was the same as if she’d taken a Praetorian blade in her back. The pain of it made her legs buckle beneath her until the only thing holding her up was her deadlock on the metal rail of the bed guard. Desperation snarled its way through her as she stared down at him.

  “You bastard,” she breathed as humiliation churned her stomach so hard she thought

  she’d throw up what little food she had in her stomach.

  She turned away from him slowly, her legs feeling rubbery. His face was almost out of her vision when she thought she saw a flash of agony cross his face. She paused to look back, but she realized she was wrong. He still wore the same contemptible smirk. Unable to bear looking at him, she stumbled out into the hospital corridor. Ares was walking toward her and tried to stop her. She brushed him off and headed for the main entrance. The sooner she was back in Chicago the better. There were Praetorians to kill, and maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky enough to find a way to end her misery. The glass doors of the hospital entrance opened with a quiet swish, and she walked out into the sunshine knowing the life she’d thought she had was over before it had even begun.

  Chapter 3

  ROME, SEAT OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE

  310 A .D.

  “I intend to marry him.” Cassiopeia stared across the atrium at the tall Roman general conversing with her father. Beside her, Octavian Julius Valeria frowned darkly.

  “It’s a ridiculous notion, my pet. Maximus has nothing to offer in the way of family or fortune. You should marry me.”

  “I don’t love you, Octavian. But I do love Maximus.”

  Her gaze never left Maximus. She was gratef
ul for the cool night air that streamed in through the opening in the atrium’s roof and the cross currents that pulled a soft breeze into the peristylium. Watching Maximus made it much warmer in the house than it was. The sight of him filled her with an ache that heated her blood with Apollo’s fire until it settled between her legs in a rush of liquid warmth.

  “Romans don’t marry for love. We marry to keep the patrician houses strong.” Octavian’s tone was sharp, telling her he wasn’t happy at all.

  “And Maximus will make the Atellus name stronger when father adopts him. Maximus Caecilius Atellus. Just the sound of it rings with great strength. Our sons will ensure my father’s name continues, and I shall have Maximus. It’s an excellent arrangement.”

  “I’ve known Maximus for a long time. The man has an aversion to marriage.” Octavian snorted with amusement. “What makes you think you can change his mind.”

  “Because I intend to make him fall in love with me.”

  Across the room, Maximus laughed at something her father said, and that familiar tug on her senses increased. His plebeian family hailed from the northern part of the Empire, and the Gaul influence showed in the dark blond hair he wore short. Although she couldn’t see his green eyes from here, she knew how striking and unusual they were. He might not have patrician blood, but he had the air of one. His strong nose and sensual mouth lent itself to the impression that he was a noble. Venus could not have designed a man more delicious if she’d tried. Normally, he wore his military uniform when he visited her father, but tonight he was dressed in the fine robes indicative of the position Emperor Maxentius had given him in the Senate. She preferred his uniform. It showed off his strong, sinewy legs and the strength of his arms. Arms that held the promise of all measure of delights. She wanted to see all of him bared before her.

  “If this is an attempt to have me express my feelings in poetry reminiscent of Ovid, I will

  do that if necessary,” Octavian said quietly. When she didn’t answer, his voice sharpened. “Don’t be a fool. He’s not good enough for you, Cassiopeia.”

  Slowly turning her head, she studied the anger on Octavian’s face. It was unlike him to be so quarrelsome with her. Octavian had been the one to introduce Maximus to her father. Eager to appease her friend, she touched his arm lightly.

  “Octavian, how can you say such a thing? Maximus is your friend.”

  “Friendship is one thing. Marrying into a patrician household is something completely different.”

  She frowned. Was her childhood friend right? As one of the senior statesmen in the Senate, the name of Gaius Quinctilia Atellus was associated with fairness and levelheaded thinking. But would he object to Maximus as a son-in-law? No. He liked her handsome Roman general very much. If anything, her father would welcome Maximus into the family with open arms. The only thing needed of her was to convince Maximus to fall in love with her. She shook her head.

  “You disappoint me, Octavian. I never thought you would be in the camp of those who prefer the patrician class to remain pure. The fact that Maximus is your friend only makes it worse.”

  Without allowing the man to utter a response, she moved away from him. As hostess, she found it necessary to stop and greet several prominent guests she’d invited at her father’s request. It seemed to take an interminable amount of time to make her way around the shallow, water-filled impluvium with its resplendent mosaic to where her general and her father stood. When she finally reached the two men, she saw Maximus grow rigid with tension. His physical reaction made her bite back a smile. He was aware of her more than he cared to admit. “Father,” she murmured a greeting as she kissed his cheek before she turned to the man she intended to conquer. “General, I’m delighted you could join us.”

  Her hands outstretched, she forced him to take her hands in his. They were large hands, rough and strong. The hands of a soldier. She wanted to feel their roughness against her skin. As she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek and then the other, he had no choice but to lower his head toward her. Her cheek brushing against his, she pressed her mouth against his ear.

  “There isn’t a woman in this room who can take their eyes off you. Including me.”

  At her whisper, he pulled back abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at her. The vivid green of his gaze studied her for a long moment before he looked at her father. She glanced over her shoulder to see her father barely restraining his amusement.

  “Forgive my daughter, Maximus. I’ve given her free rein for so long, it’s impossible to

  control her.”

  “Perhaps it’s simply a matter of finding the right hand to gentle her.”

  The amused note in Maximus’s voice sent irritation spiraling through her. This wasn’t the way he was supposed to respond to her. She suppressed her annoyance and forced a smile to her lips as she summoned Adela to her side with a wave of her hand.

  With only a small command, the freedwoman hurried away to find the dancers hired as the evening’s entertainment. As music filled the room, she looked up at Maximus and offered him her most beguiling smile. His green eyes darkened, and she quickly turned her gaze to the erotic dance being performed in front of them. Suddenly, she realized it might be difficult to make him dance to her tune.

  Another senator hailed her father from across the room, and he excused himself, leaving her alone with Maximus. Tension as finely taut as a spider’s web wove through her as she watched the dancers. After a long moment, she braved a quick glance up at him. To her surprise, he was openly studying her, and she could feel the heat of a blush cresting over her cheeks.

  “You blush like a vestal virgin, my lady.” The whisper was almost a caress against her skin, and the sound of his voice sent the blood pounding through her veins.

  “Do I?” she choked out.

  “Most certainly,” he said with a soft laugh that made her legs go weak. “It enhances your beauty.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?” Startled, she looked up at him in surprise.

  No one, not even her father had ever said she was beautiful. A look of hunger swept across his face and it sent a thrill whirling through her. Strong fingers bit into her upper arm as he quietly pulled her away from the festivities, through the peristylium, and into one of the empty rooms reserved for the family’s use. The scent of the flowers in the large garden that was the peristylium drifted into the small room as he pulled the privacy curtain closed behind them. Her heart skipped a beat, and she breathed in Maximus’s raw male scent as he advanced on her until her back came up against a cool marble column. She was certain it was her imagination, but she could almost feel his fingers caressing her throat before they trailed their way down to the valley between her breasts. The fanciful sensation made her nipples grow hard as unripe cherries.

  “You’ve been playing with fire for several weeks now, mea mellis ,” he growled. “Exactly what is your game?”

  She’d seriously misjudged her attraction for him. He was far more devastating alone. She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I don’t play games.”

  “Then what is it you want from me, Cassiopeia?” The flicker of emotion in his piercing gaze sent her pulse racing.

  “You. I want you for my lover.” Unspoken emotion charged the air, and she knew better than to elaborate any further.

  He jerked upright with a shake of his head. “You’re a senator’s daughter.”

  “And this figures into the equation how?” she said in an annoyed tone. She’d expected him to scoff at a relationship, not to point out their different social stations.

  “I’m a simple soldier.”

  “Are you saying that in service to the Empire you’ve been injured in some way that prevents you—”

  In a split second, arms solid as oak pulled her into the heat of his body. He felt as good as she had imagined he would. Hard, sinewy, and all male. Her body ached with need as his erection beneath his robe pressed into the apex of her thighs. Desire spiraled through her and she
shifted her hips forward, wishing there was nothing between them to prevent him from sliding into her. His mouth plundered hers, and she sighed as his tongue forced its way past her lips in a kiss filled with passion. He was hers. She knew that with even more certainty now. Almost as if he could read her mind, he released her and put several feet between them. His breathing was ragged as he studied her in the low light.