by Monica Burns
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
PRAISE FOR THE ORDER OF THE SICARI NOVELS
ASSASSIN’S HEART
“Uniquely smart, erotically sexy.”
—Fresh Fiction
“The emotional tension between Lysander and Phaedra keeps the pages turning. I finished this read in one sitting . . . Monica Burns is a masterful storyteller.”
—The Season
“This is a series where I find myself anticipating the next one.”
—Smexy Books Romance Reviews
“Keeps you caught in the tangled web it weaves.”
—Night Owl Romance
“[Burns] has . . . me impatiently waiting for my next fix!”
—The Romance Dish
“Packed with action and intrigue. But it’s the romance that really spoke to me. I eagerly look forward to more in this exciting series.”
—Fiction Vixen Book Reviews
“Burns doesn’t disappoint!”
—RT Book Reviews (four stars)
“An exciting adventure with a heart-wrenching love story . . . An excellent series.”
—Romance Novel News
ASSASSIN’S HONOR
“Another winner [for Burns] and most definitely a must-read.”
—TwoLips Reviews
“Monica Burns weaves a wonderful tale, building a mythical world and blending it beautifully with modern civilization. I loved her voice, it was so full of passion and adventure.”
—Night Owl Romance
“A spellbinding tale.”
—The Best Reviews
“Monica Burns pulled me in and kept me reading . . . I want more. I can’t wait for the next book in the series.”
—Southern Musings
“A fantastic blend of paranormal and romantic suspense.”
—Romance Novel News
“Sizzling . . . A great start in a very promising series!”
—RT Book Reviews
Berkley Sensation titles by Monica Burns
KISMET
PLEASURE ME
Order of the Sicari Novels
ASSASSIN’S HONOR
ASSASSIN’S HEART
INFERNO’S KISS
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc. 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2011 by Kathi B. Scearce.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
BERKLEY SENSATION® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / October 2011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Burns, Monica.
Inferno’s kiss / Monica Burns.—Berkley Sensation trade paperback ed.
p. cm.—(Order of the Sicari novels ; 3)
ISBN : 978-1-101-54502-7
1. Female assassins—Fiction. 2. Imaginary wars and battles—Fiction. I. Title. PS3602.U’.6—dc23 2011025931
http://us.penguingroup.com
For Kati and Scott.
May your happily ever after be filled with joy,
love, laughter, and everything romance.
ACKNOWLEDMENTS
I would like to express my thanks to Sensei Flavio Matias and Master Steve Turkington of the Action Martial Arts studio in Leamington, Ontario, Canada, for providing information on martial arts pressure point techniques, sometimes referred to as the “death touch.” I would also like to thank K. T. Grant for reading and dissecting Cleo and Dante’s story. You gave me insight when I had none.
Finally, for all my Facebook reader friends who encouraged me to trudge on in the creation of this book. You will never know how much your words of encouragement helped me push on to finish this book. Thank you for you support.
Chapter 1
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
Atia heard the angry confusion in her daughter’s voice and trembled at the wave of grief and fear welling up inside her. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever envisioned being backed into a corner so bleak and inescapable twice in a matter of hours. First Gabriel and now Cleo. She didn’t think she could bear losing both of her children in the same day.
Images from the Pantheon flashed through Atia’s head. The vivid memory of Gabriel attacking his father and Marcus being forced to kill their son still filled her with horror. The terrible moment had played over and over in her head ever since their return to the safe house.
Then there was Phaedra and her sacrifice. First she’d saved Marcus from certain death, only to do the same for Lysander before lapsing into a coma. Atia had never seen Lysander so distraught, and with Ares’s help, he’d taken Phaedra to the Order’s private hospital in Genova. Outside the study window of the Rome installation, the city was starting to stir. But she wasn’t ready to face the new day. Nor was she ready to face the inevitable now.
“Tell me why, Mother.” Cleo’s voice was soft, yet inflexible. “Why didn’t you tell me I had a brother?”
“Because it was too painful.” Atia knew the question was her chance to tell Cleo the truth, but her courage was wafer thin. “The Praetorians . . .”
She looked at Marcus as her voice trailed away to nothing. His features were rigid with his
own grief and guilt. A guilt she wanted to tell him not to feel. He looked at her for a long moment before he turned to Cleo.
“The Collegium kidnapped Gabriel before you were born. He was two when they took him and trained him to hate the Sicari,” Marcus said quietly with a grief that tugged at Atia’s heart.
She could feel the anguish and sorrow vibrating off him, but she didn’t know how to comfort him. Perhaps she never would. Yet despite all he’d been through tonight in the Pantheon, there was a strength flowing from him that bolstered her flagging spirits.
It reminded her why he was the reigning Sicari Lord. She wanted to reach out to him but bowed her head with grief instead. The emotion battered every inch of her as she struggled to retain her composure. The loss of Gabriel and all that might have been if she’d kept him safe consumed her with sorrow. She shuddered, and an instant later, Cleo’s arms were wrapped around her.
“I’m sorry, Mother.”
The simplicity of her daughter’s words and the warmth of her hug reminded Atia just how big her daughter’s heart was. Despite her tough exterior, Cleo had a soft side she didn’t display often. Now the heartfelt sympathy of her daughter’s embrace pushed tears against her eyelids, but Atia refused to cry. She needed all her wits about her for what was to come. Cleo released her and looked in Marcus’s direction.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Eminence, and the manner in which you lost your son.” Cleo’s gentle sympathy made Marcus flinch.
Atia drew in a sharp breath at the pinched look on his face. He’d been forced to kill their son, and it was her fault. She’d not done what she should have done all those years ago. As a result, her penance might very well be the death of her relationship with Cleo. And it was more than possible Cleo wouldn’t forgive her for hiding the truth.
“Cleo . . . I need . . .” Deus, she didn’t know how to do this. Telling Cleo that her father was alive was the hardest thing Atia had ever done. “There’s something else I have to tell you.”
“What?” Cleo turned toward her mother, and the puzzlement on her beautiful face quickly became an expression of horror. “No. Please don’t tell me my father was a Praetorian.”
“No, carissima, no.” Atia reached out and caught Cleo’s hands in hers. “Your father isn’t a Praetorian.”
“Isn’t?” Cleo frowned. Atia tried to swallow the lump of fear closing her throat.
“Your father isn’t dead.”
“What?” Cleo’s voice was so soft, Atia almost wondered if her daughter had said anything at all.
“I know I should have told you, but—”
“You knew?”
A dark silence filled the room as Atia studied her daughter’s stunned expression. With a slow movement, Cleo pulled her hands out of her mother’s, and Atia drew in a sharp breath. Fear speared its way through her as the shock on Cleo’s face slowly gave way to a cold, marblelike expression. Not even the sunlight streaming through the French doors eased the chill seeping its way through the study of the safe house. She’d expected outrage. Fury, even, but not this icy silence.
Cleo was never at a loss for words. Never. Even as a child, she had openly expressed her enthusiasm or dislike for anything and everything. Not even when Cleo had been hurting so badly over Michael’s betrayal had she been like this. Silent and completely emotionless. Atia swallowed the bile rising in her throat and frantically tried to form a plan of action. Her daughter’s silence was the one thing she’d not expected.
Desperately, she tried to think of something that would force Cleo to say something. Deus, how she wished she’d done things differently. No. She’d done the right thing. Cleo’s safety had been the only thing she’d cared about. She would give her life for her daughter.
The mantel clock over the fireplace announced the morning hour with six melancholy chimes. The sound penetrated the room like a soft death knell. Beside her, Marcus assessed Cleo’s mood with a deliberate patience that was frighteningly familiar even after all the years they’d been apart.
The tendrils of his thoughts mixed with hers for an instant before she recoiled from the gentle mental probe. He pulled his thoughts from hers with an unspoken apology. Fingers interlocked in a tight grip, Atia fought not to reach out and pull her daughter into her arms. She was certain doing so would only make things worse.
“Cleo, I wanted to tell—”
“Don’t.” The command was an angry hiss of fire on ice, and Atia flinched beneath Cleo’s harsh stare. “You lied to me.”
“No!” Atia exclaimed.
“Exactly what do you call it, Mother?” The sneer in Cleo’s voice was a blade striking deep into Atia.
“I never said your father was dead. I simply allowed you to believe it. It was to protect you.” It was a pitiful defense, and she knew it.
“Protect me from what, exactly?” Cleo said coldly. “I have no abilities. Not even the fucking Praetorians would know what to do with me.”
“They could . . . you could have passed on your father’s abilities to a child.”
“Well, those bastardi fixed that problem three years ago, didn’t they?”
Atia didn’t look at Marcus, but her body was so attuned to his that she could tell the instant he went rigid at their daughter’s words. She knew she should have explained Cleo’s tragedy to him before now, but she’d been consumed with the fear of what would happen when she told Cleo the truth about her brother and father. She’d felt too fragile to deal with anything else. Now it made her look even more deceitful.
Her gaze shifted back to Cleo’s face, and she caught the brief flash of despair crossing her daughter’s face. Atia’s stomach lurched. Her beautiful daughter would never know the joy of motherhood. That had been snatched from Cleo’s hands the minute a Praetorian blade had killed Cleo’s unborn child and left her barren. But Cleo wouldn’t know the pain, either. The pain that came from trying to protect your child. And Atia had done everything she could to protect Cleo.
She’d lost her head more than thirty years ago, when she’d succumbed to Marcus at La Terrazza del Ninfeo. But Atia had never regretted having Cleo in her life, and everything she’d done for her daughter had been out of love. She pushed through her grief to find the strength to reach out to her daughter once more. Her son was lost to her forever, and now she had to fight to keep her daughter.
Cleo hated it when anyone lied to her, and Atia had done that, albeit through the sin of omission. She’d allowed her daughter to believe her father was dead. And it was a lie Cleo might never forgive her for. Marcus’s tall, imposing presence at her side only emphasized how much Cleo had to forgive.
“I did it to protect—”
“Who is he?”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command. Atia’s voice died in her throat as she saw the contempt on Cleo’s face. With a shake of her head, she fought to find her voice, and the seconds expanded into a long silence before Marcus cleared his throat.
“I am.”
The quiet authority in Marcus’s statement made Atia sag slightly as Cleo’s anger and contempt gave way to shock again. Surely now she could make Cleo understand that as the daughter of a Sicari Lord, her safety had been Atia’s only thought. Hands trembling, she reached out to Cleo, but her arms fell to her sides as Cleo took a step back from her. The silent move of rejection was like a poison that spread its way through her limbs, leaving pain in its wake.
“Your father and I—”
“Don’t say that.” As if suddenly remembering her place, Cleo turned and bowed her head stiffly at the Sicari Lord. “Forgive me, il mio signore. I mean no disrespect.”
“We realize this is a shock, but I understand your mother’s motives, carissima.” Marcus’s voice was soft and level, but Atia heard the note of regret in his words.
He had nothing to be remorseful for. This was all her doing. Atia briefly closed her eyes against the painful thought. If only things had been different. She looked at Cleo again, and the stubborn gleam in her daughte
r’s violet eyes only heightened her fear. Atia didn’t want to lose her. She’d already lost one child tonight. To lose another would be unbearable. Somehow she had to make Cleo understand her reasons for hiding the truth.
“I didn’t tell anyone who your father was. Not even Ignacio. And I didn’t tell your . . .” She saw Cleo’s expression harden. “I didn’t even tell Marcus.”
“So you chose to let me grow up without a father.”
“I chose to keep you safe. And I’d do it again,” Atia snapped, her fear and frustration getting the better of her.
“Safe from what? Every goddamn member of the Order is always at risk. What makes me so special?”
“You are the daughter of a Sicari Lord. The Praetorians would have stopped at nothing to take you like they did Gabriel.” Atia stepped forward to reach out to her daughter again. She tried to touch her cheek, but Cleo smacked her hand away.
“I still had the right to know,” Cleo said in a tight voice.
“And I had a duty to protect you,” Atia replied with determination.
“Duty or not, Madame Consul, you lied to me. You lied to me about my brother, you lied to me about who my father is, and you allowed me to believe he was dead.”
The formality of Cleo’s address made Atia sway slightly. An unseen hand settled on her shoulder to steady her. She waved her hand at Marcus to dismiss the touch. His offer of comfort couldn’t ease her fears.
