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Authors: Monica Burns

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“When?”

Her voice was tranquil almost, but he heard the note of fear in the single-word question.
He sighed. Even if she had never learned about his special skills, she would have been
able to read him almost as well as he could read the minds of others.
“Tomorrow,” he murmured as he touched her cheek. The moment she blanched, he shook
his head. “It’s only for a few weeks. Maxentius wants me to visit one of the provinces to
ensure the governor is doing his job.”

“The emperor relies on you too heavily. He forgets that you and I have been married less
than a year.”

“Most soldiers are ready to leave their brides much sooner than I have been willing to
part with you.” He chuckled as he gave her a quick kiss. “Besides, we both know that my
return will be even more pleasurable than tonight will be.”
He envisioned his hands grasping her waist then sliding upward so his thumbs brushed
over the tips of her breast. The soft purr rolling out of her throat made him smile as her
gaze met his. Pleasure made her lovely lips part in sensual invitation as his mental touch
slid down to her cunny, and his invisible caress stroked through the velvety-soft folds
between her legs.
As her eyes fluttered closed, she whimpered from his invisible caress. Eager to love her,
he quickly removed his uniform. The red cloak attached to his breastplate fell to the floor
where it deadened the sound of the chest armor. His fingers quickly undid the leather
laces of the brass-studded leather skirt he wore, and it followed the breastplate to the
floor. The leather was a stark contrast to the brightly colored cloak. Her eyes flew open
as his concentration slipped. In silence, she knelt to help him finish undressing. Warm
hands caressed the back of his calves as she removed the sandal boots that covered his
feet and calves. The last of his uniform, a red tunic, flew off his head, leaving him bare to
her.

With a gentle touch, she caressed him with a reverence one might expect from a priestess
of Vesta. She looked up at him, and the depth of love in her expression sucked the wind
from him. A second later, she had him in her mouth. Pleasure and need melded into one
stark emotion that engulfed him like fire. With exquisite skill, her tongue and mouth loved
him until each caress pulled him closer to an edge only she could take him to. His sac
drew up tight underneath him and he uttered a sharp cry …

LYSANDER Condellaire shot upright in bed. The vivid reality of the dream still haunting his senses, he jerked his head first in one direction and then another, searching for any sign that he might not be where he expected to be. The morning sun and the sound of traffic outside his window reassured him he was still in the Sicari installation in Rome. He glanced downward and grimaced at the pool of white fluid on his stomach.

“F
otte.”

He climbed out of bed and moved into the bathroom to clean himself up. When he’d finished, he gripped the sides of the freestanding basin and stared at the grotesque reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t had a dream that intense since the last time he’d visited Rome, the week before … he threw up a wall to fight off the memories threatening to take over. With a skill he’d become adept at, he shoved his thoughts back into the dark hole where he’d buried them. The single green eye of the half man, half monster in the mirror glared back at him. With a low hiss of anger, he shoved one hand through his dark blond hair as he wheeled away from the sink and turned on the shower.
For as long as he could remember he’d had dreams of ancient Rome and the Roman plebe who’d worked his way up the ranks to the rank of Le
gatus
. He’d even had glimpses of the woman before, but never like this. Never this vivid. This arousing. And not until now had the woman been a dead ringer for Phaedra DeLuca. His mind embraced the image of the Roman woman again, and he shuddered.
He stepped into the shower’s spray of hot water. Eye closed, he let the water sting his face. It was just a dream. It was his mind’s way of compensating for his wish to have Phaedra back in his bed. That one night of incredible sex between the two of them was going to have to be enough to last him a lifetime. With a deep growl, he grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed at his body. Anything to take his mind off the erotic dream and Phaedra’s role in it.
When he emerged from the bathroom a little later, he pulled on the standard black leather pants and dark shirt he always wore on duty. During the summer months, it would have been necessary to rethink his clothing, given the heat factor. But the air still had a bite to it in late February—even in Rome. He stepped out of the small bedroom into the sitting room. Designed as a temporary residence, the apartment offered up just the right amount of amenities for rest, work, and relaxation.
“Come in,” he commanded sharply at the sound of a knock on his door.

A young woman entered the room with a tray of food. Although he hadn’t called for breakfast, the Vi
gilavi
were excellent at anticipating the needs of their employers. Most of the Vi
gilavi
had served the Sicari for generations. Their forebears were people the Sicari had saved from different life-or-death situations. They were an integral part of the Order’s structure, and their contributions in law enforcement, academics, medicine, and other areas were invaluable.

With an abrupt gesture, he silently ordered her to set the tray on the table out on the balcony. The sunshine made it warm enough for him to enjoy eating outside. The woman moved quickly to do as he instructed. The speed with which his thoughts reached out to search hers didn’t surprise him. It was a natural ability. An ability his mother had warned him never to reveal to anyone. She’d died on his sixth birthday, the day after giving him her warning, and it had reinforced her advice.
What irritated him was that his unintentional probing showed he wasn’t in control, and it emphasized the intrusive nature of his action. A wave of disgust sailed through him as he quickly broke the link. The connection hadn’t been strong, but it had been enough for him to see the stark image of the girl with her lover.
He used to find it easy to prevent his telepathic ability from sifting through the thoughts of others. But ever since that night more than a year ago—mer
da
, that was the last thing he wanted to think about at the moment. Infuriated by his lack of control, he flicked his hand and watched as several files flew off the nearby desk and into his hands. Still irritated by his thoughts, he followed the girl out to the balcony. As she gestured at the tray, Lysander nodded his thanks.
“May I bring you anything else, il
mio signore?
” Her formal deference made him grimace.
The title of Le
gatus
wasn’t something he’d asked for. Atia had made him Le
gatus
strictly to lead a hand-picked team of Sicari in search of the Tyet
of Isis
. He’d tried to convince the woman that Ares was better suited for the task, but she’d emphatically dismissed the idea. Lysander knew the Prim
a Consul
would eventually put Ares back in charge of the Chicago guild. He’d merely been keeping his friend’s spot warm for him until the Order’s leader reinstated Ares as Le
gatus
. In truth, he preferred being Ares’s Primus
Pilus
. Life was a lot easier as his friend’s second-in-command.

No, grazie.”

Molto bene
. My name is Irini. If you change your mind, please just ring.” With that cheerful reply, the girl left the room. Stomach rumbling, he pulled out a chair and sat down. The Colosseum was visible from where he sat, and there was a familiarity about the monument that called to him with a strength that seemed more than simple recognition.
Merda.
He was imagining things. He had a fondness for ancient Rome’s history, and his mind was manipulating that fact. Just like in his dream.

The image of Phaedra, naked at his feet, had barely formed before he slammed the door on the vivid mental picture. He reached for a
panino
and slathered jelly on it. Focus. He

needed to keep the mission front and center in his thoughts.

The remainder of his team had arrived last night after he went to bed, and by tomorrow, he’d have everyone working to isolate the possible hiding place of the Tyet
of Isis
. The
Prima Consul
always played her cards close to her chest, but Atia was convinced the artifact was here. She’d even told Lysander that she was reasonably certain the artifact was a small box decorated with carvings or paintings of an Egyptian knot called the Tyet
of Isis
, hence the artifact’s name. Other than that, there wasn’t much to go on, but when he’d called to ask Emma some questions about the search two nights ago, even she’d been pretty convinced the artifact was here in Rome.
He glanced at the file on top of the stack he’d set on the table. He didn’t even need to open it. The Prim
a Consul’s
personal bodyguard, Ignacio Firmani, had trained Cleo Vorenus. It was one of the reasons why he’d asked for her specifically. Atia hadn’t been pleased that he’d selected her daughter for the mission, but she’d not overruled him. When it came to combat, they’d worked together so long they knew exactly when and where the other needed help in a tight spot. She wasn’t just like a sister to him. She was the kind of partner who always had his back. He took another bite of his roll, followed by a drink of the quickly cooling cocoa.
Cleo had been the first one to find him that night in the warehouse, and weeks later, she’d been the one ordering him to either live or just die so everyone else could get on with their lives. He’d chosen to live, despite losing Phaedra. The image of her beautiful face pushed its way into his thoughts. It was gone in an instant as a loud knock announced Marco Campanella’s arrival. The man quickly crossed the small living room to join him on the balcony.

Scusi
, il
mio signore
, but you wanted to see the files of the last team members when they arrived.”
Lysander nodded at the man he’d chosen for his Prim
us Pilus
. It hadn’t escaped his notice that the younger man had Julian’s temperament without the rash nature. Had that been why he’d given him the role of Primus
Pilus?
His First Spear? Was it his way of trying to atone for Julian’s death? He clenched his teeth at the thought. No. Choosing Marco to act as his second-in-command hadn’t been done out of guilt. The man had earned the right to be Prim
us Pilus
on this mission.
His expression solemn, Marco handed off the files he carried before stepping back to wait quietly as Lysander reviewed them. Lysander had consulted with the Prim
a Consul
on potential members for his team, and everyone he’d requested had arrived two nights ago. The newest arrivals had been handpicked by Atia herself without his consultation.

He didn’t like it, but as Prim
a Consul
she was well within her right to do so. He was fortunate her earlier career had been as a fighter. It gave her greater insight on how to build a balanced team, unlike a fat politician such as Cato. The worm. He opened the first file.

“Have you reviewed these yet?” He already knew the answer.

“Yes, il
mio signore
. Violetta Molinaro is a skilled fighter with strong intuitive skills. She has limited healing abilities, but she has a talent for closing her thoughts off to Praetorians.”
Lysander nodded at the man’s assessment of the Sicari woman’s skills. Even his friend, Ares, couldn’t match the woman’s talent to avoid Praetorian detection. What bothered him was that her healing abilities were so limited. Atia knew they were in the heart of Praetorian country. He needed a healer on his team. A good one.
He flipped open the next chart. Luciano Pasquale. He released a noise of satisfaction. The man’s reputation was excellent. He had a way of getting a job done. Quietly. Lysander flipped opened the last chart and his heart slammed in his chest.


Il Christi omnipotentia.
The woman’s gone mad,” he exclaimed as he stared at Phaedra’s file.


Il mio signore?
” Curiosity filled Marco’s voice, and Lysander shot the other man a quick glance.

“It’s nothing.” He shook his head. “Team assignments. Angelo and Maria Atellus stay together, but they’re not to do any nighttime reconnaissance without backup. Partner Pasquale with Cleo. You’ll work with Molinaro. DeLuca will work with me. I want everyone assembled in the conference room at two o’clock. That should be enough time for the late arrivals to overcome their jet lag.”
Out of the corner of his only eye, Lysander saw his Primus
Pilus
hesitate. He turned his head and sent the younger man a hard look. One mistake in his career didn’t mean he’d allow his Prim
us Pilus
to question even the smallest decision he made. With a sharp bob of his head, Marco left him alone on the balcony.
Lysander turned back to the file in his hand. What in Jupiter’s name was Atia thinking by sending the Order’s most valuable healer into the heart of Praetorian territory? Of course, he should have asked what she was thinking the minute she put
him
in charge of this mission.
The last assignment he’d led had ended in two fighters tortured to death and a Sicari woman taken for breeding purposes, leaving him the sole survivor. In the far recesses of his mind, he heard the shrieks of his friend Dominic or were they the sound of his own cries? He grimly silenced the screams. The memory of that failed assignment made him inhale a deep gulp of air before he released it in a loud whoosh.

Based on that information alone, he was beginning to question Atia’s sanity. Something that could jeopardize the woman’s role as Prim
a Consul
. The job was for life unless the leader of the Sicari Council retired or someone proved them unfit for duty. Right now, he was thinking maybe someone needed to at least question Atia’s judgment if not her sanity.

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