by Sue Wilder
“The butterfly drifted away. You looked at me and demanded to know my name. When I told you, you couldn’t pronounce it, but you came right up to me. You put your hands on either side of my face, and said very solemnly, ‘Your name is Christan’.” He shrugged. “I’ve used that name ever since.”
“Did you buy the villa from my uncle?” Lexi asked.
“When he died, I covered the debts and offered the property to your aunt. She accepted to protect you and your sister, but privately she refused to claim ownership. She remained until her death two years later.”
“We lived here,” Lexi said. “Gemma never knew the property was yours. She thought you might have married her for it.”
Christan shrugged. “It was always meant to be hers,” he said. “Later, I arranged for the property to change hands on paper to divert my enemies. Caretakers maintained the olive groves. There was a vineyard at one time. The vines still produce, but not at any significant level, so the crop is sold to others. My connection is obscured. But I don’t delude myself. My enemies will know I’m here. I imagine we’ll only have peace for a day or two at the most.”
Lexi gripped the edge of her blanket. She had never been good at surrender, but she was surrendering now.
“Then we don’t have time to waste,” she said, letting the edges fall open as she crawled back up Christan’s body. When she reached him, she straddled his hips and his big hands settled gently around her waist. Her golden hair shimmered in the firelight, brushing against his chest, and she placed her hand over the small tattoo just to the left of his heart. It was in the shape of a delicate curling line that resembled a butterfly.
“Your name is Christan,” she whispered. “And I choose you.”
Their lovemaking was slow and tender, her pale body moving against his darker frame. He moved deeper, and she accepted all of him, offering the redemption that he craved. And when he took her high into the stars where they exploded into a shimmer of light, she whispered gently against his heart, “I choose you, Christan. Only you.”
Dawn held the soft gray of a dove’s wing when Lexi woke. The strong male body was warm against her skin and she pressed in, stretched slightly as he stroked the hair from her face.
“You didn’t dream,” he said, those fingers tracing down the curve of her throat.
She thought about it. “No.” It was the first night in months. “I didn’t.”
“Must be the company in bed.”
“Must be.”
She rolled over to press her nose against his chest and he lifted her thigh, draped her leg across his hip.
“We should probably sleep this way more often,” he suggested.
“Yes.” Those wicked fingers were stroking again.
“I’m going to have to leave soon.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I’ll come back. I have to meet with One.”
“Who’s… One?” It was getting hard to focus. Lexi couldn’t remember if he told her about One or not.
“I mentioned her yesterday—there’s a teleconference with Three in Seattle. I have to be there to explain the mess I left in the alley.”
“More of those big warrior secrets?”
What he was doing ought to be illegal. “Curiosity will get you in trouble,” he said deep in his throat.
She shifted her leg higher. “I like trouble.”
Christan rolled her onto her back and was inside before she realized it, thrusting slowly. “I would have you safe, cara.”
“Then don’t leave.” A deeper thrust, so sensual she arched luxuriously. “Marking your territory, Enforcer?”
“Claiming what’s mine.”
“That sounds fairly arrogant.”
“You love my arrogant side.”
She draped her wrists around his neck and stared up into his hard face, watched it soften. Lifted against him. This was more than a joining, more than the furious redemption of sinners on the previous night. This was a caress between two lovers that luxuriated with a slowly building heat.
“How can I help you?” she managed to whisper as her body took him in.
“Work with Arsen. He’ll be here soon. He’s going to check our security systems, walk the perimeter, find any weaknesses.”
The war was intruding. Her fingers gripped his shoulders and she looked into those midnight eyes. “Don’t… go.”
“I must.”
“I’m afraid.”
His body flexed and she thought he was reaching toward her very core. “How can you want someone as broken and flawed as I am?”
“I have more than wanted you… many times.”
“Sei la mia vita,” he said.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Someday you will.”
CHAPTER 30
The Casa della Farfalla was called the House of the Butterflies for many reasons, but most assumed it was due to the luxurious gardens. The two-story pink villa sat in the middle of gently rolling hills, given over to gnarled olive trees and neat rows of the old vines. The entrance road served a purpose in being completely in the open. No visitor would arrive unnoticed or unannounced.
The grounds had been impeccably maintained by the caretaker and his wife, Hannah. A terraced garden held pots of tumbling red flowers and small lemon trees. Gemma’s garden, as Christan called it, was once again filled with delphiniums, along with daisies and a riot of fragrant blooms. The remains of an evergreen maze were beyond a white gravel path that held the original well, now capped with wood and iron for safety. An ancient tree stood guard, along with several prowling multi-colored kittens. Lounges were arranged beneath the dappled shade.
Since the villa was used as a secure location there were few places to hide. But those, along with the entire estate, were monitored through a surveillance system that was both discreet and possessing a resolution surpassing anything available to human governments. The system was connected through wireless technology to a secure server, all of it highly encrypted. Arsen explained in depth as he led Lexi down a graveled path. They were walking toward a rustic stone shed that looked ancient because it was. Nearby, a round building with a tiled roof and rusted metal gutters shimmered in the sun. The dove-cote. Lexi remembered it, too.
“The place has held up rather well,” she said dryly, following Arsen inside the barrel-arched stone shed. It housed some of the monitoring equipment, hidden behind an ancient iron bed frame that had once been painted white.
Arsen shrugged. “Christan insisted,” he said.
“He always loved this place.”
Arsen was dressed more severely than usual; his jeans were heavy and the dark shirt looked flexible enough to allow him to move without restraint. There was a leather harness that crossed his back and held a small, black handgun close to his ribs. “I thought guns weren’t that handy if you have to shift.”
“But very handy if you don’t.”
“Yeah, I understand that whole low-profile thing now.”
“You’re safe here, Slick,” he said casually. “Right now, there’s probably three different groups of people watching what we do.”
“Then I shouldn’t reach out and pat your butt?”
“Won’t bother me.”
Arsen was laughing. Lexi watched as he finished checking whatever computer program he was checking. He closed the metal door that looked like any other electrical panel door, other than the small lock. She suspected there was some very secret warrior stuff about that lock.
When they walked back into the bright sunlight Lexi had to squint. Arsen directed her down a gently sloping hill. Rows of green vines twisted on gnarled branches as thick as her wrist. The ground was littered with sharp white stones.
“I’m sorry about Kat,” Lexi said, speaking to his back as he led the way.
“You tried.”
“You never talk about her.”
“I don’t.”
“I can see why.”
“Can you?” Ar
sen stopped in the middle of the row, bent down, started pruning shoots from the vine.
Lexi watched him work. “You usually talk to other warriors, but men won’t offer you the right advice.”
Arsen tossed a green bit of vegetation to the ground and shifted his weight. “And what advice would you offer, Slick?”
“None. I’m your friend. Advice, especially the wrong kind, would ruin that.”
“Even friends have opinions.”
“I guess you’ve given me your opinion once or twice,” she agreed.
“Because you needed it.”
“And you don’t need opinions,” Lexi said. Arsen straightened and they continued down the row. “I’m not being mean, Bucko.”
He led her in another direction. “What are you being?”
“Honest. You frighten her. I don’t know how or why, but it was fear I read in her eyes when she realized you were there.”
“You don’t pull your punches when you’re being honest. I’ve never hurt her.”
“I know you would never hurt her—do I look like an idiot?” Lexi laughed. “Don’t answer that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Speaking of dreams.”
“Yes?”
“Is she still having them?”
“I’d have to say yes.”
“Past life or nightmare dreams?”
“She has several memory lines on her hand.”
“I guess that’s one way to tell the difference,” Arsen said as they started down another row.
The gentle walk through the vineyard would have felt relaxing if they hadn’t been checking the security perimeter. The morning sun was warm, the earthy scents of growing plants begging Lexi to push her fingers into the ground, to pull up happy memories from the past—workmen laughing as they harvested the grapes. Girls with scarves tied around their hair, offering jugs of water or wine. Bare toes squirming in the soil.
“Arsen, tell me about this war.”
“You’re in the middle of it.”
“Thank God for honest friends.”
“You need to know.” Sun glinted in his blond hair. Lexi thought of Christan’s hair, dark silk against her palms.
“What do I need to know?” she asked.
“It’s punch and counter punch right now, someone testing for weakness.”
“He’s not weak.”
“Not now.” Arsen looked at her.
Lexi held his blue gaze. “What was that ambush in the alley?”
“Payback. Opportunism. Some hot shots cranked up over the trash we disposed of because they violated the rules. Big rules, Slick. Important rules.”
“That’s where Christan is now, talking about the rules?”
“His job, Lexi, is to enforce those rules.”
“I don’t want him to trade his safety for mine.”
Arsen gave her a pitying look. “You’ve seen him fight?”
“Yes.”
“He’s not Three’s Enforcer because he’s pretty.”
Lexi thought about that and then asked, “Who wanted the hot shots to violate the big rules?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“But you will, won’t you Bucko?”
“Count on it, Slick.
CHAPTER 31
The Calata member known as One maintained a secure enclave far enough from Florence to remain obscure. From there, she controlled immortal affairs over territories that ringed the Mediterranean Sea, through Spain, spreading North to the British Isles and the barbarian lands of Rome. Her territory extended East to the Carpathian Mountains and the contentious border with the Calata member known as Five. Her rival, known as Six, controlled Turkey and the Eastern Mediterranean coastline to the Suez Canal.
At that point, One regained control over the Northern lands of Africa. She held those lands in trust for Two, waiting for her return.
But Two had been gone for over twelve centuries. Her stay in the place known as The Away was said to be indefinite.
As for her compound, One’s sympathies were rooted in the exoticism of the Moors. She had adopted their architecture as her own, and a tall crenelated wall surrounded inner terraces leading to the two-story villa. The villa was built at the top of the hill to take advantage of the cooling summer breeze and to hold the high ground. Throughout the centuries, wars had been fought on these lands, armies decimated. Just as frequently, the gardens had been filled with women in elegant gowns. Men, too, some in whatever constituted the formal clothes for a particular century, others dressed in the ceremonial garb that ancient custom required.
Christan walked up the wide terraced steps, missing the weight of a sword strapped to his back. He moved with fluid grace, no energy wasted. As an Enforcer, he was more than comfortable with any lethal show of power. In this modern world, though, immortals had grown more paranoid about social media. Christan conformed to their preferences and the weapons he carried were less obvious.
A warrior stood at the heavy wooden entrance doors, dressed in the dark suit of the security detail. Sunglasses concealed his eyes. The man gave a deferential nod and ushered the enforcer inside. Christan walked the path he’d walked the day before, to the elegantly appointed room, highly secure. It was the room in which One conducted her most sensitive conversations.
Sliding into the shadows, Christan took his assigned position. It was against the wall and out of camera range. The video conference was in progress—he hadn’t been late; the two Calata members were always impatient. Three’s image was on the monitor, regal and dressed in white. Christan remembered how she’d been drawn to the Scandinavian persona, although not because it suited her. Three had once taken a Viking lover and had fond memories. Christan wondered if she’d kept the bear pelts.
Leander was also present. Christan nodded toward One’s enforcer leaning against the opposite wall, then glanced at the monitor again. Phillipe was now standing by Three’s side, and Christan’s attention sharpened.
“How many girls, One?” Three was demanding.
“Too many,” snapped the woman who was Three’s opposite. She stood five-foot four unless she was wearing four-inch heels, which she was, in a blood red color that matched the silk suit. A cloud of chestnut-colored hair shimmered around her shoulders. “And they’re not just your girls, Three, they’re attacking mine as well.”
“I’m sure Leander can deal with it.”
“Yes, unless your enforcer gets there first. Why did you send him into my territory without asking permission?”
“Because those were my girls,” Three said sharply. “And if we’d waited for your permission how many would have died?”
“You can’t turn someone like him loose without any control, not in this age of social media. Were you intending to expose what we do?”
“He was discreet.”
“He left a damn mess in that alley like he always does.”
“What Christan did was necessary,” Three snapped. “And if you weren’t so worried about the messes, you might have fewer of them. Have the men in the alley been identified?” Both women knew the alchemy had been designed to eliminate difficult explanations. A warrior in animal form would revert to his human body at the moment of death. Fingerprints and facial recognition technology would identify them.
One turned to Leander and flipped her hand impatiently. He stepped forward to hand her a file. Quickly, she read the details.
“Freelancers, some of Seven’s discards,” she said, tossing the file aside. “They’re growing bored while he’s on his walkabout.”
“When was the last time you talked to Seven?”
“Years ago, but he never communicated much. I deal with one of his assistants in Sydney.”
“Caitryn?”
“Yes.” One looked back at the scattered file, picked up a single sheet. “These warriors are well-known. They’re paid mercenaries of the lowest sort, not loyal to anyone.” One flicked the paper and it flew across the room. “You really should have anticipated that when
you created them.”
“I recall the Calata being quite specific as to what they wanted,” Three said, and Christan watched as Phillipe turned his head and offered Three council on how not to inflame the situation. She tried to restrain herself. “Mercenaries would be a problem no matter what—you know most mercenaries are immortals and not warriors.”
“Beside the point,” One countered as she turned away. “Why is anyone using mercenaries to attack these girls?”
“At first, we thought this came from the Calata, trying to break the Agreement. Now we think it might have something to do with Two.”
“If this is about Two, why aren’t they attacking in North Africa?”
“You know her connection to the Etruscans.” And Two’s connection to Four, whose territory had once encompassed Italy. The Calata member had been protecting an Etruscan village when he was killed. The entire human population had been massacred, a horrendous crime, motivating the Calata’s desire for self-defense. Three had been asked to create warriors as a solution. Two had been crucial in providing the magic.
“You recall the stories,” Three continued. Everyone knew of the intrigue that circulated every century or so, that Two shared information, left scrolls behind. Most immortals dismissed the stories as gossip. Perhaps others had not. “The girls reincarnate in the general areas of their past lives. That might be why they’ve targeted girls living in your territory, trying to find those who might have known Two.”
“Then why is someone fixated on your enforcer’s girl? He never worked for Two. There’s a rumor about splitting his attention and that could be dangerous for all of us.”
“You shouldn’t listen to rumor, One.”
The chestnut-haired immortal turned to look at Christan. Her expression was not friendly. “You were in the Void for a long time.”
“A blink of an eye for him,” Phillipe offered from the video feed. One was not placated.
“Are you even capable of protecting your girl?” Leander shifted his position and looked away. One seemed oblivious to her enforcer’s discomfort. “They tell me you’re hiding out at your villa. Do you have adequate security there?”
