Assassin's Heart

by Monica Burns

  The problem was, this bastardo’s skills equaled his own. Perhaps even surpassed his? And he’d seen enough of the man’s thoughts to know that the sorry fuck would play as nasty as he could. It wasn’t going to be a fair fight, and the Praetorian would use his feelings for Phaedra against him. He knew it was probably a mistake to go after the man without backup. But how in the hell was he supposed to explain he’d read the Praetorian’s mind or mentally challenged the bastard to a fight? It had been agonizing to watch her trying to fight off the man’s invisible touch. The idea of any man caressing Phaedra was maddening. But to see someone touch her against her will made him feel helpless—and he’d had more than his share of not having control over things. The memory lashed at him with the sting of a whip.

  He crushed the dark memories and tried to remember every detail he could that he might be able to use against the Praetorian. There were only a few hours for him to form a strategy before his appointment with Phaedra’s attacker. When he’d challenged the man, the Praetorian had filled his head with mocking laughter before finally agreeing. It hadn’t been one of his more lucid moments, but there hadn’t been much else he could do. He’d just have to find a way to beat the bastard.

  He leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. Like Phaedra, he’d thought a rogue Sicari was her attacker, and he’d automatically reached out with his thoughts to see if he could discover where the man was hiding. He’d been as surprised as the Praetorian to learn they could read each other’s thoughts.

  He’d never run into a Praetorian like this one before. The man didn’t just have telepathic abilities. He had telekinetic powers as well. It worried him that the Praetorian might be stronger than him. One more reason why he might not survive to see the sunrise.

  The strength of the man’s abilities had been surprising. That the sick bastard had

  effortlessly tormented Phaedra while taunting him at the same time said the Praetorian had been toying with them. The man probably could have brought both of them to their knees.

  It’s what made him think that maybe the legends were true. As a kid growing up in Atia’s house, he’d overheard plenty of conversations and thoughts that others hadn’t. Ones he probably shouldn’t have heard. Sicari Lords were legend among the Sicari, but he also remembered the mutterings about the Praetorian Dominus, whose abilities were similar to that of a Sicari Lord. Everything he’d ever heard, he’d taken with a grain of salt, and until today, he’d always discounted the possibility of a Dominus. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Phaedra made a soft noise and began to writhe on the bed. A moment later, he sprang to his feet as she screamed and shot upright in bed. He reached her in two quick strides and sank down onto the bed then pulled her into his arms. She was shaking so badly her teeth were chattering. He didn’t say anything, he just held her. As her trembling slowly subsided, she raised her head off his chest to look up at him.

  “Better?” He eyed her carefully as she raked her fingers through her hair and nodded. “Then back into bed.”

  “You’ll stay?”

  “I’m not going anywhere for the moment.”

  She slipped back under the covers and turned her back to him. Quietly, he returned to his chair and waited for her to fall asleep again. Every minute or two, she’d turn over in bed in an effort to achieve a more comfortable position. After about fifteen minutes, she sat up and sent him a pleading look.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask … considering the way things are between us, but would you mind holding me until I go to sleep?” The request made him go still as a statue, and she immediately cringed with embarrassment. She waved her hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. Never mind.”

  Frozen in his chair, he watched her fall back onto the mattress and turn her back to him. Christus, he needed to have his head examined for what he was about to do. Despite the warning going off in the back of his mind, he removed his boots and went to join her on the bed. She jerked her head to look over her shoulder as his weight shifted the mattress, and the gratitude in her beautiful brown eyes swelled his heart.

  Cautiously, he stretched out beside her and pulled her backside into his chest. The minute his arms wrapped around her, it was as if she’d never left his side. Her warmth pushed its way through his clothing until it penetrated his skin. Holding her like this was like walking into a burning building. There was no way he was going to come out unscathed.

  She didn’t speak, and for that, he was thankful. Her tension reverberated through him for

  several long minutes until she slowly relaxed. The minute she drifted off to sleep, he was able to relax himself. Merda, and he’d had the balls to think Atia was using questionable judgment in bringing Phaedra here. What the fuck was he doing? For more than a year, he’d managed to keep his distance from her, and in forty-eight hours, every bit of that wall he’d built between them was on the verge of collapse. He closed his eye.

  Deus, he was tired. Today had been a mental drain unlike any in recent memory. Phaedra’s attacker, her insistence on continuing with their task, fear for her safety, Pasquale’s obvious attraction to her—all of it had come to a head when Angelo had started talking about that ridiculous journal of Consul Julius.

  The man had been dead more than two hundred years, and he didn’t want to hear some nonsense about a prophecy. He knew his reaction to the man’s discussion with Atia had made him look like a madman. Perhaps he was. He’d been hiding his mixed blood for more than a year now, and tonight’s dinner conversation had unnerved him.

  The sound of Phaedra’s soft breathing reminded him of her immediate response to his breaking the wineglass he’d been holding. She’d not hesitated to reach out to him. Her selfless act had terrified him more than anything else could. The Praetorian side of him had been feeding his anger, and he’d instinctively known he wouldn’t be able to keep her from discovering his secret if she’d touched him. The darkness had been too close to the surface.

  It had been an uncharacteristic response from him, and while regrettable, it had reinforced the fact that as Legatus he wouldn’t tolerate disloyalty or disobedience. He frowned as he acknowledged one of the driving forces behind his reaction to Angelo’s conversation.

  Technically, he was still a Primus Pilus. When he’d accepted this mission, he’d gotten Atia’s promise that he could return to Chicago as Ares’s First Spear. And the fact that he was a half-breed Praetorian hunting for the Tyet of Isis made him uneasy about Consul Julius’s prophecy. He’d never really believed in prophecies or past lives, but tonight’s dinner conversation had pulled everything together in a way that made him desperately wish he’d never accepted this assignment.

  Accept? He snorted softly at the notion. Atia had literally forced this mission on him. She’d been insistent to the point of threatening him with a demotion if he refused. Staring up at the ceiling, he remembered the dreams he’d been having for so long. He didn’t like it, but it was far too easy to recall how the woman in his dreams had called him Maximus.

  He groaned at the thought, and Phaedra shifted beside him at the sound. Afraid he might wake her, he bit the inside of his cheek. Now that she was asleep, maybe the best thing to do would be to catch a few hours’ rest in his own room before he went searching for the enemy.

  The soft floral scent of Phaedra’s hair filled his nostrils. Maybe he could hold her just a

  little longer. There was no harm in that. Actually, it was crazy to stay here. It would only sharpen the pain of leaving her. Yawning, he ignored the thought. He just wasn’t ready to let her go. It was the last thing he remembered as he drifted off to sleep. That and the softness of the woman curled up against him.

  SHE was still damp from her bath and smelled of blue lotus. The intense floral fragrance was an intoxicating smell. It didn’t surprise him that his cock hardened at the sight of her. She was beautiful. He stretched out his hand to her as she approached the bed. The sight of her mischievous smile drew a low growl from him as
she slipped her small hand into his. It obviously amused her to see him aroused. He grimaced and she laughed.

  “Just a few more weeks, mea amor .” Cassiopeia pressed her palm to her large belly. “I miss loving you just as much as you do me.”

  He gently tugged her down onto the bed. She uttered a soft grunt of discomfort as she laid down and rolled onto her side to face him. His touch tender, he brushed a strand of silky black hair out of her eyes. There was a glow about her that lit her up from the inside. He’d never seen her more beautiful, and it made him ache for her.

  The babe was due soon, but it had been six long weeks since he’d last lain with her. He missed her. Although she’d satisfied him with her mouth whenever she sensed his need, it wasn’t the same as burying himself inside her. Still, he wasn’t about to risk the life of his son.

  She’d even suggested he use one of the slave girls, but it had been easy to read her thoughts and know she wanted him to refuse. It had been easy to say no. Not so much because she wanted him to, but because he wanted no other woman but her. His hand stroked her rounded stomach, and he chuckled as the child inside her kicked hard.

  “He’s strong, isn’t he?” He laughed at her annoyed frown.

  “You laugh because you’re not the one carrying this restless little one,” she said in a nettled voice. “And how can you be so certain he isn’t a she?”

  “Because my wife is dutiful and obedient.” He caught her hand in his and kissed her fingers before grinning at her. “She wouldn’t think of bearing me anything but sons.”

  “Now, you are acting like the skilled, confident general who expects all to go according to his plan and no other.” The mischief in her statement made him chuckle.

  “You exaggerate the skills of a simple soldier, mea amor .”

  “Never. Maximus Caecilius Atellus, adopted son of Gaius Quinctilia Atellus, is Rome’s greatest general,” she said with confidence. “After all, as his wife, I know it to be true.”

  “A wife who, like any good legionnaire, will do her duty and produce a healthy son for

  her lord and dominus .” He laughed loudly as she poked him in his shoulder at his teasing.

  “So if you’re so certain I shall bear you a son, what do you propose we call him?”

  “Demetri.” The name came to him without hesitation.

  “Demetri? But that’s a Greek name. Why not something like Augustus or Tiberius?”

  “I wish to honor the man who brought us together.”

  “But Octavian was the one who introduced us when he brought you to meet my father.”

  “Yes, but it was a tribune by the name of Demetri Septimius who pointed you out to me when we were at the Colosseum to see the chariot races. You were the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.” His soft words brought a smile of joy to her face as she touched his cheek. There was no need to say anything more. He knew she could easily read his heart.

  “Then Demetri it shall be,” she whispered. A somber expression crossed her beautiful features as she raised her hand to study the long scar on her palm. “Do you think he will have your ability? I never received any special power from our bonding.”

  “Perhaps not, but your blood will run through our son’s veins. That is a special power of its own design.” He rolled onto his back and looked up at the fresco on the ceiling. “And I confess I’m not sure I want him to. My abilities are more often a curse than an asset.”

  “It’s not a curse, mea cor . It makes you stronger than your enemies.”

  “You”—he turned his head and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her close to him as he smiled down at her—”are prejudiced.”

  “Yes, I am. But that is because I love you so much.” The deep emotion in her voice made him tighten his embrace.

  “And I you, mea dulcis ,” he murmured as she yawned and closed her eyes.

  Moments later, he heard Cass’s soft breathing as she fell asleep. She was all he needed in life, and the thought frightened him. If something were to happen to her and the babe—he pushed the thought from his head and kissed her brow. He wouldn’t beg trouble. He’d make an offering to Vesta tomorrow asking protection for Cass and their child. He yawned. Vesta had always answered all of his prayers. His last thought as he fell asleep was that he had no need to believe the goddess would do otherwise now.

  HER touch made him stir as her mouth brushed against his. Delicious and enticing, the tip of her tongue laced against his lips, teasing him to open his mouth and give her entry. Still half asleep, he didn’t resist. It was a kiss of temptation, and he groaned softly as her tongue danced with his. She tasted sweet and far too tempting. The scent of her swept across his senses until his body was hard with need.

  Deus, he’d missed her. His fingers glided down a silky smooth arm to the wrist he’d held so tightly with his telekinetic ability earlier. With a gentle twist of her arm, she freed herself from his grasp and reached up to touch the demonic side of his face. He stiffened at the caress, but she deepened their kiss and pressed her body into his with an insistence he wasn’t capable of rejecting.

  He grew rock hard, aching for the heat of her. Need barreled through him as he rolled her onto her back without breaking their kiss. Crushing his mouth against hers, he demanded a response that matched his. She answered his summons with a passion that made him hotter than he’d ever thought possible. Desire whipped through him, tugging at every cell in his body.

  He wanted to touch her everywhere, bury himself inside her until he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. A blinding need engulfed him, making him slide his mouth off hers and down the side of her neck to her shoulder. Nipping at her skin, he heard her suck in a sharp breath of pleasure as his thumb circled a hard nipple beneath satiny material.

  Eager to reach the taut bud, he caught the narrow strap of her bra with his teeth and dragged it off her shoulder until the cup of the lingerie released the plump breast it cradled. He restrained himself from taking her in his mouth the instant she was free. He wanted some sign from her that her blood was running as hot as his was. Slowly, he brushed his mouth across her skin, waiting for her to plead with him to suckle her.

  “Please.” Her whisper was hoarse with desire. “Please don’t tease me.”

  “Am I teasing you, carissima?” He edged his tongue close to the darkened skin near her nipple then blew lightly against her wet skin. Another mewl whispered out of her.

  “You know you are. For the love of Deus, Lysander, please.”

  The soft cry sent satisfaction sailing through him. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He answered her plea, gently nibbling on the tip of her until her hands cradled the back of his head and urged him to take her into his mouth completely. He obliged, savoring the incredibly sweet taste of her against his tongue.

  With each stroke of his tongue, she writhed against him, her hips thrusting up against his erection in a silent demand for the ultimate pleasure. The scent of her desire drifted up to tease his nose, and still suckling her, he slid his hand down to the wisp of material that barely covered her. His fingers slid under the maroon slip of fabric to the core of her.

  Heat greeted his fingers as he parted her velvety folds and touched the small flesh of her sex. A low cry of pleasure escaped her the moment his thumb rubbed across the sensitive nub. Christus, he wanted her. Suddenly, she pushed up against him until he obediently rolled onto his back. She followed him, straddling him until the seat of her was rocking back and forth across his cock.

  The action shot a needy blast of desire through him, his body taut with a need to explode inside her. Her hands made short work of removing her bra, and he sucked in a quick breath at the beauty of her breasts. The moment she bent over him, he instinctively stretched out his hand to touch the silky black curtain that brushed the sides of her cheeks.

  Cool air brushed his stomach as she pushed his knit sweater upward to give her mouth access to his waist and then his chest. All the while her mouth c
aressed him, her hips continued to rock over him, teasing his cock until it was ready to break through the leather pants he wore. Blind to everything around him, he visualized pulling her up over his chest as his hands shoved at his pants. In that instance, her sharp cry filled the air, and he saw a look of panic flash in her wide eyes. Fuck, his telekinetic touch had brought back the trauma she’d endured only hours ago.