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Authors: Monica Burns

BOOK: Assassin's Heart
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After just a few seconds of tense silence, everyone quickly gathered their things and left the room. The disruptive moment had made everyone uncomfortable, but Lysander understood his friend’s anger. Lysander turned his head toward Atia, whose features were a bit pale, but serene. He had to admire her for her ability to remain composed under her daughter’s blistering attack.
Atia had to know Cleo was right, which made him wonder what was really driving her decision to join them. As Prim
a Consul
, Atia occasionally took risks, but never any this grave. His thoughts slammed to a halt. The Sicari Lord. She was going to contact Marcus. He couldn’t help the rush of relief that surged through him.
He wasn’t a fool. The odds of them running into Gabriel and Nicostratus tonight were high. And they could use all the help they could get at this point if that happened. There was too much riding on this. The artifact had to remain out of Octavian’s hands or everything the Sicari held dear would be lost. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, he just did.
He turned toward Phaedra and winced at the sight of her talking with her brother. Impulsively, he reached out with his mind to caress her cheek. She turned her head toward him the moment his invisible touch brushed across her skin and smiled. He’d never seen a more beautiful creature in his entire life. His gaze drifted away from her face to the dagger on the table. His body tensed and grew cold as he looked at it.

This had killed her once before. What if he was forced to do the same again? Fingertips pressing into the tabletop, he closed his eye for a brief moment at the unbearable thought. A warm hand captured his, and he could feel the beat of her heart through her fingers, while the sweet, buttery scent of her brushed against his nostrils. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, uncaring of what anyone might think. She was his, and he’d do

whatever necessary to keep her safe. No matter the cost to himself.

Chapter 26

THE stone wall against Phaedra’s back was chilly as they waited for Ares to signal he’d opened the rear door of the Pantheon. Her nerves on edge, the three clicks in her earpiece made her jump with surprise when they came. Beside her, Lysander quickly ordered Cleo across the narrow street that wasn’t much more than an alley. She watched her friend disappear down into the fosse that surrounded the sides and back of the building.
When Cleo vanished, Lysander ordered Atia and Ignacio to cross the street and follow her. The older couple didn’t waste time and disappeared in seconds. A warm hand clasped Phaedra’s in a silent message of love and reassurance. In the dark, she couldn’t read his expression, but his whisper was warm and comforting.

“I’ll be right behind you, c
arissima
.” He released her hand. “Go.”

She didn’t hesitate. With a quick push of her hands, she shoved herself away from the cold wall and raced across the cobblestone street. She slipped past the crumbling wall to drop down almost six feet into the trench that surrounded the monument. Several feet away she saw someone slip through the door into the Pantheon. She took a step forward and froze. Someone was nearby.
“Lysander.” It was a struggle to keep the panic out of her voice.
A dark shadow dropped down into the trench, and her heart slammed into her chest with fear. Pressed into the outer wall of the monument, she tried to control her racing pulse.
“It’s all right, c
ara
.” Lysander grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door as he bent his head toward his shoulder mike. “Atia, your company is waiting for us.”
In seconds, they were in the building, and Lysander closed the heavy metal door behind them as quietly as possible. The darkness complete, she shivered as the powerful individual she sensed seemed closer with every forward step she took. The muscles in her body grew taut as her senses registered the strength and power of the man.
She’d never sensed anyone this powerful before. Not even Gabriel had made her senses react this way. The hairs on her arm were standing on end, while her skin was warm from the blood rushing frantically through her veins. Lysander tapped his flashlight on then quietly ordered her to follow him. Somehow, she managed to jerk herself out of her stupor to do as he commanded.

He didn’t seem the least bit concerned, even though she was certain he sensed the person who currently had her senses wired for overload. They quickly passed through the narrow corridor and emerged from behind an altar into the temple. Overhead, the dome’s paneled

ceiling rose up to the oculus, which was open to sky and elements. Moonlight spilled onto the temple’s marble floor, and the beauty of the building was breathtaking.

It was an incredible work of art, and despite the fact that it was almost two thousand years old, it hadn’t changed much in all that time. The only thing missing were the statues of the gods. It created a sense of loss in her, even though she followed no particular set of religious teachings.
What had once been home to the worship of the gods had become something altogether different. Now it was a tomb and place of worship for another faith. It seemed almost sacrilegious, and she recognized the longing inside of her for what it was. Cassiopeia had worshiped here. The soft whisper of a sound from the far corner of the temple jerked her out of her lapse of concentration.
The moonlight illuminated the majority of the temple’s interior, although most of the niches were out of reach and dark as midnight. She saw Atia move toward one of the darkened recesses in the building’s wall, and Phaedra suppressed a gasp as a tall figure stepped into the light. Instinct made her draw her sword as she leaped forward to protect the Prim
a Consul
. No sooner had she done so, than Lysander stayed her.

“It’s all right. He’s with us,” he said quietly as Ares and Cleo moved to join them.

“Who the f
uck
is that?” Cleo jerked her head in the direction of the man who towered over her mother.
“He’s a Sicari Lord.” From the sound of his voice, Ares was clearly in awe of the man.
“Well, it’s clear Ignacio doesn’t like him.”
Cleo pointed at the
Celeris
, whose body was rigid with tension as he watched his charge engage in an animated, almost heated, conversation with the Sicari Lord. At that instant, the Sicari Lord’s head came up, and he stared at Cleo. Immediately, her friend fidgeted beneath the penetrating look.
“
Christus
, why the
hell
is the
bastardo
looking at me like that?”
As the Sicari Lord stepped away from Atia and headed toward the four of them, she heard Lysander draw in a sharp hiss of air and mutter a harsh curse. Atia bolted after the Sicari Lord, a worried frown furrowing her brow. Phaedra’s gaze left the Prim
a Consul’s
concerned expression to return to the man coming toward them in clothes typical of what Sicari Lords were reported to wear.

The man was dressed like a warrior monk from the past, his flowing cape cloaking his dark apparel, and she was certain his boots came up almost to his knees. It was an oldfashioned form of dress, but on him, it was intimidating. He stopped short of their small group to study their faces and removed the hood from his head to reveal his handsome

features.

There was something so familiar about him. Somewhere in the back of her head a dim memory of a young tribune playing with Demetri filtered its way into her head. She gasped. He was older, but it was still the same face of the man she’d known in ancient Rome. The Sicari Lord nodded at Lysander, who bowed slightly in deference.

“Well, Maximus. Isn’t it time you stop bowing and recognize me for who I really am?”

The Sicari Lord’s question made Lysander start in surprise as the man pulled up his sleeve and extended his arm. In the moonlight, it was easy to see the lightly colored birthmark in the shape of an eagle. The legion’s mark. The same faint-colored stain Lysander had on his arm. He stiffened as his gaze took in the Sicari Lord’s amused expression. Astonishment made Lysander’s green eye open wide as he quickly stepped forward and grasped the man’s forearm in a timeless Roman greeting. The smile on his face didn’t surprise her, but the dazed expressions on her brother’s and Cleo’s faces almost made her laugh.

“Tevy. Is it really you?” Lysander said with an air of disbelief.

“I always said I would come back stronger than you, if simply to save you from yourself. It seems I was right.” The Sicari Lord released a soft laugh. “Although it took you longer to realize the truth than I did. You always were stubborn.”
“I should have recognized you the night I fought the Praetorian Dominus,” Lysander exclaimed as he gave the Sicari Lord a boisterous brotherly hug. “By the Gods, Tevy, it’s good to see you, old friend.
“And you, my friend, but it might be less confusing for everyone if you call me Marcus.”
“Confusing is an understatement,” Lysander said in a wry voice.
“It’s good to see you as well, D
omina
.” The Sicari Lord she recognized as Tevy turned to her and bowed slightly. At a loss for a proper response, she nodded her head at him, and he laughed again. “It is a bit unsettling, isn’t it? I almost envy those who don’t remember their past existences. There are distinct advantages to not remembering the failures of the past.”
His voice had taken on a serious note, and she stepped forward to touch his arm. “Regrets are for the past. The present is what’s important now.”
“Agreed.” He nodded his head.

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” As always, Cleo’s colorful language was a shock to those who didn’t know her, and the Sicari Lord eyed her carefully.

“That will take far more time than we have to spare, c
arissima
.” The term of endearment made Cleo narrow her eyes at the Sicari Lord, while behind him, Atia and Ignacio both jumped with what she could have sworn was fear. The man didn’t seem to notice and turned his head to Lysander. “I believe you know where the artifact is.”
The man didn’t even question Lysander’s knowledge, he simply believed. With a nod, Lysander headed toward one of the darkened niches. Instinctively, Phaedra knew it had once housed a statue of Vesta, the goddess Maximus had always prayed to. The sensation of Cassiopeia’s memories fluttering to life inside her was unnerving, just like Tevy … Marcus … had said. Not to mention confusing.
As Lysander and his friend from the ancient past quickly crossed the temple’s marble floor, she followed them. When they reached the niche, Lysander squatted over a central spot in front of what was now a tomb. The beam of his flashlight moved slowly across the marble flooring in an obvious search pattern. A second later, the light stopped moving, and with a gesture toward Marcus, Lysander silently directed the Sicari Lord to hold the light.
She immediately sensed the escalation of tension in the temple as Cassiopeia’s dagger flashed in the moonlight. Her own heart skipped a beat as Lysander looked up at her. The hesitation in his gaze made her nod at him with a smile of encouragement. She saw his throat bob with emotion before he turned his attention back to the marble tile in front of him.
As the group’s varying degrees of excitement and nervous energy assaulted her senses, she blocked the vibrating emotions in a natural effort to protect herself. With careful precision, Lysander tapped the tip of the blade along one of the spidery brown lines spilling across the white marble. He tested first one line and then another. The soft tapping noise continued until the dagger’s tip dipped below the surface.
Atia drew in a sharp breath, and Marcus sent her a look that made Phaedra think there was more between the two than anyone else realized. Phaedra’s gaze shifted back to Lysander. As she watched, he wiggled the tip of the weapon under the marble, and she could see a piece of cracked tile slowly pushing upward under the pressure. A moment later, the tile popped out of the marble floor like a single puzzle piece.
Hidden among the copious number of brown spidery lines winding their way across the white marble floor, the cracked tile had remained virtually undetectable for centuries. Carefully, he set the tile aside and leaned forward. One hand braced on the floor, Lysander slowly reached into the small hole until his entire arm disappeared from view. He grunted as he strained for something that seemed to be just out of his grasp.

With another sound of exertion, his entire shoulder dropped toward the hole in the floor as he reached for whatever was hidden beneath the tile. A whisper of excitement drifted through her head, and she recognized his thoughts caressing her.

“It’s here,
carissima
. We found it. We found the
Tyet of Isis
.”

“No,
caro
. You found it. You did it.”

With a triumphant grin, Lysander pulled the artifact free of the floor and held it up in the air with a low cry of excitement. In his hand was a small box, about the size of a jeweler’s necklace box. The tangible sensation of someone forcing her to reach out for the artifact made her gasp, while the avaricious need sweeping through her chilled the back of her neck. The jubilation she’d felt in Lysander evaporated as he was on his feet and at her side in a split second.

“They’re here,” he said in a terse tone.

The invisible touch on her hand slowly trailed its way up her arm to slide across her shoulder to the side of her neck. The terror slogging its way through her veins churned her stomach, and a vicious tremor rocked her body. Beside her, Lysander growled as his gaze met hers. He couldn’t see Gabriel touching her, but he could read her fear, and she sensed the darkness in him fighting to take control of him.

“Don’t, c
arino
. They want you to lose control. It will make you vulnerable.”

She wasn’t sure how she knew this, but she sensed the level of frustration rise in Gabriel the moment she spoke. The Praetorian Dominus immediately squeezed her neck in a brutal grip, and her fingers grabbed at her throat in an attempt to stop the unseen hand from choking her. As she gasped for air, the Sicari Lord turned to study the wide expanse of the darkened nave.

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