“That was wonderful. Can we do it again?”
“
Il Christi omnipotentia
, woman. Give me a few minutes to recover.”
She laughed, her hands lightly rubbing over his shoulders only to stop on the pinkish scar on his arms. Her fingertips traced the line of the scar as a haunted look flashed across her features.
“He could have killed you.”
“But he didn’t, c
arissima
. And there are worse things in the world than a cut.” He dropped his head until his forehead pressed against hers.
“I don’t want to lose you to that
bastardo
.” Her fingertips edged the line of his mutilated
jaw as she forced him to look at her.
“You won’t, i
namorato
.”
He kissed her gently as the whisper of a sigh echoed out of her. The need to reassure her swept through him. How could he make her understand that he was willing to enter the darkness of Tartarus itself if it meant keeping her safe? His mouth trailed its way along her beautiful jaw to glide down her neck. She was beautiful, and she was his. He wasn’t going to let any other man take her from him. Another sigh slipped past her lips as his mouth tenderly feathered her shoulder with kisses.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, c
arissima?
” He nuzzled the soft spot between her neck and shoulder. “You’ve got the softest skin imaginable.”
“I think you’re delusional,” she said with a laugh, but there was a breathless quality to her voice that he liked. “But I love it.”
“Everything about you is soft and sweet. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,
inamorato
.” At his words, her hands grasped his hips, and she reached between them to stroke his cock.
“Will you please stop talking and make love to me again?”
The moment she touched him, he was hard. De
us
, the woman simply had to touch him and he was lost. His heart skipped a beat as he raised his head to look down into her eyes. The warm emotion shining there tugged at his heart and took his breath away. Unable to speak, he kissed her again, his heart in every caress, every kiss, and every touch of his mind.
More than an hour later, she stirred beside him, her fingers lazily trailing a path across his shoulder to the pink scar on his chest. He caught her hand and carried it to his mouth to press his lips in her palm. She sighed.
“So where do we go from here?” she asked softly.
His jaw clenched for a moment before he released the tension holding it tight. Now was the moment to show he was willing to trust her completely. To regain her faith in him. He swallowed the knot of fear swelling in his throat.
“We could talk about … about these dreams we’ve both been having.”
She stiffened beside him then shot upright to stare down at him in astonishment. In the back of his mind, he noticed how beautiful her breasts were, but at the moment, he was too fucking nervous to do anything about it. In the next instant, his heart sank as she scooted off the bed to pace the floor. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he watched her stalk the small area beside the bed. He loved her best this way. Beautiful. Naked. Her hair
tumbling past her shoulders to sway against her skin like black silk.
“Why now?” she demanded as she came to a halt and faced him with a fierce expression on her face.
He closed his eyes and fell backward onto the pillows. Here it came. The truth. The mattress bounced slightly as she returned to the bed and moved toward him. A moment later, she’d straddled him. Surprised, he opened his eyes to meet her wary gaze.
“Well?”
“Because you want me to trust you,” he said hoarsely. “And I don’t know any other way to make you see that I do.”
Unable to bear the possibility that she wouldn’t believe him, or worse, dismiss his display of trust, he looked away from her. A moment later, something wet hit his stomach, and he jerked his head back toward her to see tears rolling down her cheeks. Horrified that he’d made her cry, he rolled her off him onto her back and hovered over her to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“It’s all right, c
ara
. I know it’s not much, but it’s the only card I have in my hand at the moment. I’ll try to do better, c
arissima
. I promise.”
“Deus, you really can be dense sometimes, you
bacciagalupe
.” She sniffed and gave him a watery smile. “I’m crying because it shows you
do
trust me.”
Relief raced through him as the impact of her words hit him. She did understand. He lowered his head and kissed her gently. Lifting his head, he grimaced.
“So where do we start?”
“Why not the beginning?” she said quietly. “Tell me the first dream you ever had about Maximus and Cassiopeia.”
With a nod, he rolled onto his back and shared what he could remember of his first dreams about Maximus. As they talked about their dreams, he began to see a pattern emerge. Based on everything Phaedra had told him, their dreams had followed a timeline that in many ways paralleled their own relationship and the people they knew. But when she shared her dream about Octavian, he knew he couldn’t tell her about his last dream. It had been difficult enough for him to experience, he didn’t want to alarm her or make her think they were going to endure a similar fate. He wasn’t going to lose her like Maximus had lost Cassiopeia.
“Do you think Octavian had anything to do with the death of Cassiopeia’s father, like he … like he did with my parents?”
Her question caught him off guard. “What?”
“Octavian. Nicostratus. They’re one in the same.”
He turned his head to study her pensive expression. It was the first time she’d mentioned the two men were connected. It hadn’t been until his latest dream that he’d realized it himself. Without agreeing or disagreeing with her, he simply watched her. The palm of her hand cradled her head as she propped herself up on her elbow, and she was staring off into space. He knew she was remembering the death of her parents. It cut deep to know the man who’d sired him was the monster who’d caused her so much pain. Suddenly, her gaze focused on him with a look that indicated she expected a reply.
“I don’t remember anything in my dreams about Cassiopeia’s father, but if the
bastardo’s
true to form, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Have you noticed that everything we’ve dreamed is almost like someone showing us a chronological record of events?”
“Events you think we’ve already experienced in another life.” He winced at the words. He still wasn’t ready to believe their dreams were a depiction of their lives together in ancient Rome. The thought was unsettling, and he didn’t like the sensation.
“Yes,” she said quietly, a somber look on her face. “What if we’re doomed to repeat the past?”
The words were a sword running him through, and he didn’t know how to answer her. He knew he’d give his life for her, but if he believed the past would repeat itself in the now, it meant he had to believe he was Maximus reincarnated. Worse, it meant he would fail her just as Maximus had failed Cassiopeia.
“No,” he rasped. “I can’t believe that. The future isn’t written yet, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’m not going to fail you.”
“Why would you think that?” She narrowed her gaze on him. Although he kept his expression neutral, he didn’t fool her. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
He knew better than to lie. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling again to avoid her penetrating gaze. In a flash, she was hovering over him, simply glaring at him in a way that made him realize she wasn’t going to let him off the hook. Frustration tugged at him.
“I haven’t told you about the last dream I had.”
“Why not?” The question was gentle and without judgment. “Did you see Cassiopeia’s death?”
“No, I didn’t see that.” He dragged in a harsh breath. “I couldn’t see her because Octavian
buried a sword in Maximus’s head, blinding him in one eye.”
“Just like you,” she breathed softly as her fingers reached out to touch the scarred mass of tissue that had once been his cheek. “We have to tell Atia.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” he groaned.
“She needs to know. As Prim
a Consul
she’s entitled to know. Besides, with the exception of my brother, she knows more about Sicari history than anyone else in the Order. If there’s anything to these dreams of ours, she’ll have answers.”
He knew she was right. If anyone knew what their dreams meant, it would be Atia. The woman had asked him weeks ago whether he was dreaming; the Prim
a Consul
knew a hell of lot more than she let on. He just wasn’t crazy about the idea of spilling his guts to anyone but Phaedra. His gaze met hers, and he agreed with a sharp nod.
“All right. We tell Atia.” His resigned response made her smile mischievously at him as she gave him a quick kiss. Her gaze drifted toward the clock, and she gasped loudly.
“
Christus
, it’s almost noon. Atia called for a team meeting at one, and I’m betting she and Emma have come to some conclusion about the artifact. Maybe Emma got a vision when she touched the plate. She was wearing gloves when she dug up the plate at the circus, so I doubt she saw anything then.”
Moving quickly, she got out of bed and hurried into the bathroom to turn on the shower. She poked her head back into the bedroom, her expression one of sultry invitation. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
He didn’t need a second invitation, and with a grin, he climbed out of bed to join her in the shower. When he reentered the bedroom a short time later, he waved his hand to straighten the tousled sheets and put the bedspread back into place. As Phaedra emerged from the bathroom, she laughed.
“I always said you were a neat freak.”
“I am
not
a neat freak,” he growled. “I simply like order. Something you clearly need when it comes to your clothing.”
With an arched look in her direction, he pointedly turned his gaze to shoes scattered in various places in the room, shirts tossed over a chair in one corner of the room, and a nightstand cluttered with a collection of everything under the sun. The dresser had a drawer half closed with something silky draped over the top edge. He didn’t know how she could find anything in all the chaos.
“When we get home to Chicago, you’re going to have to get used to seeing female clothing lying around, and
not
just where you peeled them off me.” Her playful tone
didn’t create the amused reaction he was certain she meant to incite in him. Instead, his muscles knotted up and his gut twisted in a sharp, painful reaction.
“Right,” he muttered in an effort to avoid her noticing his sudden tension. He was dressed before her and headed toward the door.
“I love you, Lysander.” Her soft words stopped him dead in his tracks. Il Christi omnipotentia,
what was he supposed to say to that?
He glanced over his shoulder at her.
“I know, c
arissima
.” His response made her pale, and he wanted to kick himself. She’d put herself out on a limb, and he’d practically cut it off to let her fall to the earth.
“Do you love me?”
The question brought the stark emotion he’d felt for a very long time to the surface. Until now, he’d never had the courage to name the feeling, let alone openly express it. And with good reason. The minute he confessed his feelings, his gut told him she’d eventually expect the blood bond. He was willing to do whatever else she wanted commitment-wise, but he had no intention of mixing his Praetorian blood with hers.
It wasn’t just the thought of polluting her with his tainted blood that troubled him. Sealing the blood bond meant the odds of her getting pregnant were extremely high. The thought made him queasy. No kids. He wasn’t going to inflict his blood on an innocent child. No. A blood bond between them was out of the question. Slowly, he turned to face her, and one look at her face sent his heart plummeting downward. It was like he’d taken two steps forward, only to realize he was about to go back three.
Chapter 24
PHAEDRA’S heart was pounding as Lysander slowly turned to face her. She couldn’t believe she’d actually said she loved him, let alone asked him if he felt the same way. The expression on his angelic profile was almost as twisted and tormented as his demonic half. De
us
, what was he thinking? Had she made a mistake? She’d been so certain he cared for her, but what if she was wrong? She bit her lip nervously, as with each passing second she grew more certain he was going to break her heart.
“Yes,” he rasped. “I love you.”
She swayed slightly as relief weakened her knees. Gr
atias Deus.
She was beginning to think she’d made a terrible mistake. Warm with the knowledge that he loved her, she took a step toward him. His mouth became a hard, grim line, the scarred tissue of his face twitching slightly, and her heart sank as she hesitated.
“Why do I see a ‘but’ coming?” she asked with more than a hint of trepidation.
“There’s something I want to make clear before we go any further. If you’re expecting a blood bond—don’t.”
The words scraped down her spine like a Praetorian sword splitting her in half. Why would he say he loved her in one breath and in the next say he wasn’t about to commit to the blood bond? Confused, all she could do was stare at him while half a dozen questions danced around in her head. The man was going to drive her mad.
“Why?” She wanted to shout her question, but instead she kept her voice low and calm.
“I don’t want kids.” Sharp and to the point. No kids. She could deal with that.
“Okay, so we don’t have kids.” She shrugged, ignoring the slight twinge she felt at the idea that she wouldn’t ever feel his baby growing inside her. She’d live with it if it meant being with him. “There is something called protection, you know.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just not going to happen.” His emphatic tone made her flinch.
“V
a bene
, it’s not going to happen,” she said sarcastically. “Happy?”
