Assassin's Heart

by Monica Burns

  With a frown, she forced herself to watch the sunrise over the city. She’d come here to find some peace. For a long time, she did nothing but watch as the sun slowly crept its way upward to paint cream and pink hues on the facades of Rome’s ancient monuments.

  Color spilled across the crumbling Coliseum, the Pantheon, and other monuments on Capitoline Hill. The view was stunning and she was so lost in the beauty of it that she didn’t know he was there until her neck tingled with that familiar frisson. Only Marcus could evoke that type of sensation in her. She sprang to her feet and turned around to see him standing a few feet away. His cerulean eyes were unreadable as his gaze met hers.

  “I thought you might come here,” he said quietly.

  In the early-morning light, he was magnificent. The silver in his dark hair seemed more predominant today than when they’d met in the crypt. But it didn’t detract from his features; if anything, it made him more handsome. He’d discarded his monk’s cloak for a dark blue sweater and matching pants, and he wore his sword in a scabbard slung over his back. The well-toned muscles beneath his clothing belonged to that of a younger man, a clear indication he was in excellent physical condition. She drew in a sharp breath.

  The man wasn’t just magnificent. He was devastating. Perhaps more so than when they’d first met all those years ago. Despite the several feet between them, he set off a heat in her that no man had ever been able to duplicate. She swallowed hard as she fought to keep her heart beating at a slow, easy pace. She failed. Why was he here? Had he—her heart slammed into her chest.

  “Gabriel?” she whispered.

  “No, carissima. Nothing’s changed.” He moved quickly to skirt the bench and take her hands into his. “I came because I knew my message would upset you. I would have remained silent except for the fact that you were angry the last time I kept something from you.”

  A mirthless laugh escaped her. Now the man decided to listen to her. She didn’t resist as he gently forced her to sit down on the bench. He’d come because he was worried about her. It made her feel cherished. She frowned. How had he known where she was?

  “How did you find me?” It annoyed her to hear the breathless note in her voice. He smiled almost as if he’d read her mind, but she knew it was the expression on her face

  that gave her away.

  “I remembered how you always enjoyed the sunrise from this vantage point when you needed solitude,” he said as he released one of her hands.

  The fact that he remembered made her heart swell with a happiness she didn’t want to feel. She was grateful he didn’t mention the last time the two of them had been here. It was a wonderful memory, but if Marcus were ever to learn the truth—she refused to even consider the possibility. As she studied his face, his solemn expression troubled her.

  “What are you going to do … about Gabriel?”

  “He’s no longer Gabriel, cara.” He kept her hand in his as he turned to stare out at the vista in front of them. “He almost killed Condellaire.”

  “Dear God. Those were Gabriel’s fingerprints on Lysander’s neck?” she gasped.

  “Yes. If I’d arrived just a few minutes later …” There was a note of concern in his voice that frightened her. She’d already lost her son. She wouldn’t lose Marcus, too.

  “You must send for Dante.”

  “The boy’s not ready.”

  “He’s been your pupil since he was five. Are you telling me that you’ve been able to teach him nothing?” Her scornful words were deliberately meant to prick his ego, and as he stiffened beside her, she knew she’d succeeded.

  “Your point is well taken, but then Gabriel is my responsibility, not Dante’s. My son’s actions reflect on me.”

  The inflexible note in his voice angered her. Were all Sicari males this stubborn or had she simply had the misfortune to know only obstinate ones? When she grabbed his arm hard, he turned his head to look at her.

  “I’ve already lost one—my son—do you expect me to mourn you as well?” she snapped.

  A small smile tipped the corners of his mouth, and he carried her hand to his lips. He lightly kissed the tips of her fingers, his breath filling the pores of her skin with heat. The fiery warmth sank down to the cellular level, where it created a chain reaction of sensation that sped like lightning through her body.

  “That’s the second time this week you’ve expressed concern for my well-being. Perhaps winning your heart again won’t be as difficult as I first thought.” His eyes met hers as he gently turned her palm upward and kissed the scar in the center. The tenderness in the touch reminded her of so many other similar moments, and she struggled hard to keep

  breathing.

  “It’s natural for me to be concerned about the father of my … son,” she whispered.

  “Is that the only reason, inamorato?”

  He slid his mouth to the inside of her wrist. The caress sent a stream of fire racing up her arm until it crashed into her shoulder and spread rapidly into the rest of her body. A knot formed in her throat as she struggled to think of something coherent to say. For the love of Jupiter. She was the Prima Consul. One would think she could string two words together into some semblance of a sentence.

  “Of course, it’s the only reason.” Relief swept through her at the matter-of-fact sound of her voice. With a quick breath, she pulled free of his touch and slid back along the bench to put distance between them.

  “I see,” he said with a frown as he pinned her with that striking blue gaze of his.

  When she didn’t flinch beneath his hard gaze, his jaw became a sharp line of granite. He looked away from her and stared out at the city slowly coming to life before their eyes. She studied his profile for a long moment before she followed his lead and looked at Rome spread out before them in her faded, but still beautiful, glory.

  The man’s behavior was thoroughly confusing, and she found it unsettling. It meant she wasn’t in control. He was. But then he’d always been in control where she was concerned. It had been one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him. A tremor shot through her as she noted that the sun was more than halfway over the horizon. In a few more moments, the sunrise would be complete. It seemed more like an ending than a beginning.

  “So you still tug on your ear when you’re nervous or worried about something.” His observation made her start as she realized she’d been rubbing her ear between her fingers. She hastily dropped her hand as her eyes met his amused ones. “You’ve always been good at closing your thoughts off to me, carissima, but whenever you tugged at your ear, I knew you were upset or trying to hide something from me.”

  His amusement said he was teasing her, and her heartbeat increased several more notches. She didn’t want him to tease her. He was dangerous when he flirted with her. And while a part of her enjoyed his flirtatious manner, another part of her was sending loud protests and warnings to her brain.

  “Naturally you’d choose to remember something less than flattering,” she muttered in a disgruntled tone.

  “On you, I always found it bellissima.”

  His voice was a gentle stroke against her senses, and she fought to keep herself from

  trembling. Why couldn’t Ignacio make her feel like this? As if she were on the edge of something wonderful and exciting. She quickly discarded the thought. Where Marcus was concerned, she didn’t want to feel anything at all. But she did, and she hated herself for not being able to walk away from him, as he’d always walked away from her.

  The minute the thought entered her head, she winced. That was unfair of her. Duty and responsibility were a part of them both. There had been no other choice—for either of them. They should never have blood bonded. It had only brought them heartache. It was time to let each other go. Time to stop dreaming of what might have been.

  “If you wish to be freed from our blood bond, I would not object,” she said quietly.

  A dark look crossed his handsome features, and in the blink of an eye, he w
as on his feet. Blue eyes glittering with anger, he didn’t even flick a finger as he used his skills to drag her to her feet and jerk her into his arms. Startled by his response, she stared up at him in astonishment.

  Deus, he’d always made her feel petite whenever he towered over her like this. And she was not petite. Palms splayed across his hard chest, she could feel his heart pounding at a pace that was surprising, and her mouth went dry at the possessive look that blazed in his eyes.

  “Are you telling me there’s someone else?” he rasped.

  The question was a warning to take care as to how she answered, and a small thrill skittered down her spine at the realization that he might actually be jealous. Without thinking, she breathed in his scent. Sharp and crisp like the air. It aroused in her an emotion no other man would ever be able to evoke in her.

  The instant she admitted the truth, she realized she would have to hurt a dear friend. The one man who’d been with her whenever she had need of a strong shoulder to lean on. Ignacio’s image slipped into her head, and she heard Marcus suck in a harsh, angry breath. Immediately, the answer she’d been ready to give died in her throat as she saw the rage darkening his eyes.

  Chapter 13

  ” WHO is he?”

  The second he uttered the command, he knew he didn’t want to hear her answer. If she’d betrayed their blood bond, he’d have the right to kill her, but he knew he could never take her life. No matter what she did or how terribly she betrayed him, he wouldn’t harm a hair on her head. Her hands pushed against his shoulders as she arched away from him.

  “There isn’t anyone.” Despite the sincerity in her voice, he still doubted.

  “Don’t lie to me, Atia,” he growled.

  “I am not lying.” Her voice wavered as she stared up at him, before she glared at him with a familiar defiance. “And even if there were someone, you don’t have the right to ask the question.”

  “The blood bond gives me the right.”

  He tightened his embrace as his dark rasp echoed between them. It was a sound of desperation and he knew it. He was losing her. Now, after all these years of waiting. All these years of training Dante to take on the mantle of reigning Sicari Lord, he was losing her. He shuddered.

  “We both know the blood bond is meaningless at this point.”

  Her sharp words were a whip cracking the air, flaying his heart open. The woman knew precisely how to extract the most blood from him. Christus, she was the only person, short of their son, he would willingly fall on his sword for. He shook his head.

  “It has never been meaningless to me. You’ve been in my thoughts and heart each day we’ve been apart.” His fingers gripped her chin as he forced her to look at him directly. “I told you I would have given it up for you. I almost did that last night we were together as lovers. Here in this very place. You’ll never know how close I was to going to Tito to abdicate my title.”

  She blanched, her gray eyes widening until she looked as young as she had the first time he’d laid eyes on her. He watched her mouth move as if she were struggling for words, and he gave in to the urge he’d been suppressing since he’d first seen her the other day. Swiftly, before she could protest, he captured her mouth beneath his.

  Her tremor reverberated its way into him, filling him with warm satisfaction. She wasn’t as resistant to him as she pretended. The years separating them vanished as she slowly

  opened herself up to him and responded to his kiss. His tongue swept its way into her mouth as he teased a response from her that made him grow hard with desire.

  His hands gripped her hips to pull her closer, lifting her up slightly until his erection pressed intimately into the apex of her thighs. A small gasp escaped her at the touch, which he swallowed as he deepened their kiss. His mouth slid off her lips and across her cheek. Praise Jupiter that he was being given another chance with her. He nibbled at her ear.

  “Tell me you want me, mea amor.

  “I …” She drew in a sudden, sharp hiss of air and pushed against him in an attempt to escape his embrace. “Damn you, Marcus Vorenus. I won’t let you sweet-talk me into doing what you want this time.”

  “You can deny it all you want, but you’ve missed me as much as I have you, carissima.” His heart twisted violently in his chest at the way she was trying to dismiss him. Them.

  “As always, you think quite highly of yourself,” she snapped, but he saw a flash of emotion in her gray eyes. It gave him hope.

  “No. I merely mean to claim what is mine.”

  “Claim me.”

  Her exclamation was a quiet shout of anger grating across his senses. He knew she hated it when he was autocratic, but at the moment, he was out of options. If there was another man trying to take her from him, he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. The expression on her face grew haughty and mutinous.

  A sudden whisper echoed in his head and grew stronger. The Celeris was on his way. He could deal with the man. He wasn’t about to leave until he heard her say she still cared for him.

  “I seem to recall telling you that I would come for you.” He sent her an arrogant look that said she should have known he’d keep his word.

  “That is so like you—arrogantly assuming I’d be more than happy to welcome you back with open arms.”

  “Don’t lie to me, or yourself, Atia. There was no divide between us the night we made love here.” He grabbed her hand with its long scar across the palm and he stroked it with his finger. The spot on his hand buzzed in response.

  “That night was a mistake,” she breathed, and panic lashed across her face.

  He frowned. Something was wrong. But he was out of time. Without turning around, he threw up an invisible wall between the Celeris and him. He heard the bodyguard grunt as he slammed into the obstacle. Slowly, he turned to face the man. The Celeris stood with his head bent, his hand covering his nose.

  There was something familiar about him. The moment the man looked up to meet his gaze it was like a violent electrical shock to his system. This was the man he’d seen in Atia’s thoughts. Rational thought left him as his sword flew out of his scabbard and the invisible shield between him and the other man fell. Before he could move, Atia was standing between him and the Celeris.

  “Stand aside, Atia.” He saw her flinch before her expression revealed she was digging in her heels.

  “Stop this now, Marcus. Ignacio is sworn to protect me.”

  Atia’s voice was sharp as she sent him a look that said she’d fight him herself if it came down to it. It infuriated him, but at the same time it made him love her that much more for her loyalty. Behind her, the Celeris growled.

  “You know this man? How?” The man’s tone was far too possessive for Marcus’s liking.

  “Yes.” She didn’t look at the man. “It’s complicated.”

  “Hardly complicated at all, carissima.” Marcus growled as he watched the other man’s thoughts lining up bits and pieces of information in an attempt to understand what she was saying.

  “We’re through here,” she said tightly. “Ignacio and I are leaving.”

  “This is him, isn’t it?” The contempt in the Celeris’s voice made him automatically reach out with his thoughts to wrap his fingers around the man’s neck as the man continued to speak. “This son of a bitch is Cleo’s father? This is what I’ve been competing with all these years? Not a dead man’s ghost, but a deadbeat father?”

  His ability to choke the man vanished. The man’s words could have been a sword gutting him, and he wouldn’t have been any less stunned. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. All he could do was stare at the Celeris, who was studying him with a look of scorn.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that at any other time such a look would have earned the bastardo a run through the gauntlet, simply for disrespecting a Sicari Lord. His gaze shifted to Atia, who was watching him with an expression of fear and anguish.

  “A daughter? I have a daughter?” His voice wa
s hoarse. Almost a whisper. Atia’s eyes were wide in her face, a haunted look in their gray depths. She looked away and it