Inferno's Kiss (16 page)

“I judge her no less than I would myself. I just need time.” Her quiet response pulled a reluctant nod from Marcus.

“As you wish. When you’re ready, come home to White Cloud. I know your mother misses you.”

Cleo nodded then tugged the headset off and tossed it at the woman manning the console before she hurried out of the control room toward the courtyard.
Deus
, why in Jupiter’s Stone was she suddenly feeling lousy about this whole situation with her mother? It wasn’t as if
she’d
done anything wrong.

The moment she stepped out into the sunlight, she closed her eyes and lifted her face up to the sun. Something damp hit her cheek, and she blinked trying to see the blue sky that was nothing but a blur. Fuck, she was crying. Viciously wiping tears off her face, she dragged in a deep sobbing breath and paced the stones leading into the center of the
peristylium
.

She hated it when she cried. It was bad enough that she did it watching sad movies, but over her own troubles? Hands on her hips, she closed her eyes and willed the tears to vanish. She didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her, least of all Dante. She didn’t need or want anyone’s pity no matter the reason.

The back of her neck suddenly started to tingle before the sensation spread. Dante. What was it about this guy that made her whole body go off like a metal detector? She quickly brushed aside the remnants of her tears and turned to face him. He stopped in front of her and studied her for a long moment.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said as she bobbed her head in the affirmative.

“Good.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this awkward. Not only had she dropped him to the ground, but she’d kissed him.
Deus
, she’d reacted like a third grader on the playground, while Sir Galahad here had done the gentlemanly thing and just brushed it off. She owed him an apology. Hesitating, she nibbled at her lower lip. Did she really want to open up that can of worms again? She tightened her jaw. Yes, she really did.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”

“I don’t need an apology.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve got one anyway,” she said in a voice tight with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have dropped you to the floor like that . . . and I . . . well, the kiss just seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

“Are you finished?” His question made her jerk her head up to see an odd look on his face. So help her, if he were laughing at her, she’d drop him to the ground again. Sicari Lord or not.

“Yes, I’m finished.”

“Then let’s move on,” he said quietly. “I might not want to take you with me to the convent, but something tells me I don’t have much choice.”

“You mean the fact that you haven’t mentioned your little project to Marcus?”

“Correct.” His mouth tightened as he scowled at her. “The minute you skirted that issue with Marcus, I knew you’d hold my feet to the fire.”

“And you were right.” She offered him a small smile of triumph. “So how do we proceed?”

Chapter 8

CLEOPATRA’S question made him grimace. She had the same instincts her father did. She’d not missed the fact that he’d avoided telling Marcus of his plans. Just as she’d known last night a partner would have hindered her ability to get information from Angotti, she knew Marcus would not condone Beatrice’s rescue from the convent. Cleopatra wouldn’t hesitate to use that knowledge to her benefit. Resigned to her participation, he eyed her satisfied expression with more than a hint of irritation.

“After we compare notes on what we both know, we’ll formulate a plan of attack,” he said as he glanced down at his clothing. “Right now, I need to change clothes and give Cornelia a message from Marcus.”

Dante sucked in a sharp breath of air as her gaze slid over him, and his chest tightened at the way his body immediately responded to her. He’d been fighting to keep himself out of her thoughts since she first entered the garden this morning. But his control had slipped drastically the minute the images from her head found their way into his.

Now, from that suggestive look on her face, he had a good idea what she was imagining. He immediately strengthened his mental shield, but it was impossible to remain unmoved by her. She had an innate sensuality that gave those beautiful violet eyes of hers a sultry, sleepy look. A part of him wondered if this was what she looked like when she woke up in the morning—ready and willing to be kissed.

His mind reeled at the image taking root in his head, and his mouth went dry as he fought to keep his senses from overriding his self-control. The expression on her face became one of confident amusement as she smiled at him. He suddenly realized she’d said something to him, although he was at a loss for what it was.

“What?”

“I asked if you needed help,” she said with an impish grin.

“Help?” The erotic image of her undressing him hit him with the force of a Praetorian kick to his solar plexus.

“Yes, I asked if you wanted me to find Cornelia while you changed. But if you need help with something else . . .”

Her voice trailed off into nothing and left little to the imagination.
Christus
, the woman was trying to seduce him. And doing it well, given the strength of his erection. A knot developed in his throat at his sudden urge to read her thoughts. He viciously suppressed the desire.

It was bad enough he’d accidentally entered her thoughts earlier. That had been enough of an education for one day. A fiery heat filled his face, and he knew he was blushing like a teenager. Irritated by his inability to practice the control he’d learned in the
Novem Conformavi
’s second
Tabulati
, he scowled at her.

“
No
, I’ll find Cornelia when I’ve finished changing.” He could hear the growl of annoyance in his voice, and apparently so could Cleopatra, because a small laugh escaped her full lips. He suppressed an oath of frustration, and he wasn’t sure if his irritation was the result of her laugh or the fact that he’d been focused on her mouth. “I’ll meet you in the library after lunch so we can discuss our next steps.”

“Okay,” she said with a slight shrug as she slid her gaze over him once more. “But if you need me to—”

“
No
,” he snapped. “Excuse me.”

He stalked away from her, all too aware that it wasn’t the type of exit he would like to have made. By the gods, he was in trouble. Cleopatra was different from any woman he’d ever met. There was something about her that sent every one of his senses spiraling out of control whenever he got close to her.

It took him only a couple of minutes to reach his rooms, and the way the door slammed shut behind him only emphasized the impact the woman had on him. The serenity and self-control he’d regained from last night’s interaction with Cleopatra had disappeared the instant she’d entered the courtyard.

His ability had always been strong when it came to sensing the presence of others, even when he couldn’t see them. But his sensory perception had gone off the scale the second Cleopatra had gotten close to the
peristylium
. With a noise of frustration, he strode into the bathroom. A shower always had a way of helping him think through his problems. And Cleopatra was one of the biggest problems he’d come up against in a very long time.

By the time he was naked, the water was hot, and he quickly stepped under the showerhead. Hands braced against the tile, he welcomed the pulsating spray beating down on his neck. The steady rhythm was usually a soothing one for him, but not today.
Christus
, when had he lost his ability to control his emotions? Every level of the
Novem Conformavi
built on the previous foundation, and by the age of eleven he’d excelled at controlling his reactions to whatever he encountered. Now, after all his years of training, he’d suddenly discovered his control had limits.

When he’d first sensed Cleopatra’s presence in the garden, he’d been determined to complete his exercise and remain indifferent to the feelings she aroused in him. His resolve to control his emotions and finish his workout had interfered with his ability to keep himself from penetrating the peripheral edge of her thoughts. And sweet Juno, what thoughts.

As the woman had watched him exercise, she’d been imagining the two of them entwined in acts of pleasure he’d not even dreamed about. Hot, incredible images that had jerked him out of his exercise routine. And he’d not been able to purge those pictures from his head since. His cock grew hard as the visions he’d seen in her mind kept playing over and over again in his own thoughts.

How could he work with her when his body had ideas of its own where she was concerned? The shower water pounding against his back, he looked down at his growing erection. It was a test. The gods were testing him and his loyalty to the
Absconditus
. They’d sent her to tempt him. And Juno knew she was a temptation unlike any other he’d faced.

Closing his eyes, he tried to shut out the memory of her openly displayed attraction to him. He might be inexperienced, but that smile of hers had been a clear invitation to sin. He was certain of it because of what he’d seen in her head. Desperately, he tried to ignore the images in his thoughts but failed.

Even more damning was the way his body throbbed for something he understood but had never experienced. He swallowed hard. Despite his desire to maintain his control, he knew there was only one way to ease the need pulsing through him.

With a ruthless grip, he grabbed his erection in one hand and stroked himself. The immediate effect was one of intense pleasure despite his intent to make it otherwise. An image of Cleopatra in an erotic position drifted through his head, and his cock jumped hard in his hand. Another picture of her filled his mind, and he released a low, harsh groan as his body demanded satisfaction.

The water splashing down over him, he gulped in deep breaths as he pumped hard and fast on his erection. More erotic images of Cleopatra flew through his head, each one more potent than the next. With every arousing vision, the friction against his cock grew more intense as he worked his hand faster and faster.

White-hot heat surged through his veins, spreading its way into every muscle in his body until it drew his sacs up tight. With a shout, he threw his head back and milked his cock until it had spent the last of its white fluid. Deep, harsh breaths rolled out of him as he leaned back against the cool tile, the shower splashing over the lower half of his body.
Deus
, he’d masturbated before, but never like this.

In the past, the images in his head had been of faceless, unknown women to help him satisfy his body’s physical ache, nothing more. But just now—this had been something altogether different. As he’d pumped his hand over his cock, he’d envisioned more than just Cleopatra’s face and body.

He’d imagined what it would be like to experience her for the first time. His first time with a woman. He ducked his head and allowed the water to wash over the back of his neck. Somehow he was certain his hand on his cock was nowhere near as satisfying as being inside Cleopatra would have been.

Masturbating had merely been his desperate attempt to satisfy his stark longing for a woman that his vow of abstinence said he couldn’t have. He’d failed. A shudder lanced through him. He was on the edge of a precipice, and if he didn’t tread lightly, he’d tumble into an abyss. The thought scared the hell out of him. With a snarl of frustration, he slapped his palms against the tile wall behind him and pushed himself back under the spray of water.

A short while later, he’d just finished rolling the sleeves of his shirt up over his arms when he sensed an old presence that he knew well. Placido. Centering his thoughts, he concentrated on filling his consciousness with the tranquility he’d learned in the fifth level of the
Novem Conformavi
.

As a sense of calm swept over him, he offered up a brief prayer to Jupiter that he’d recaptured some of the peace he’d lost in the last twenty-four hours. It would help him match wits with the old Sicari Lord, whose intellect was rivaled only by his legendary abilities as an intuitive and seer.

With an invisible touch, Dante closed the folding doors of his closet and the drawer of his clothes chest. When he entered his living room, he mentally opened the door for the oldest living Sicari Lord before the man could knock. More than eighty years old, the ancient warrior stood in the doorway of Dante’s apartment with a smile of satisfaction on his face.

“The strength of your abilities continues to grow, my boy. One day you will be even more powerful than Marcus or myself.”

“You honor me with your presence and your words,” Dante said as he invited the man into his home with a bow of respect.

Placido had once been the reigning leader of the
Absconditus
, but he’d surrendered those duties to Marcus years ago. Although he still retained the honorary title of Sicari Lord, his role was that of advisor and teacher of the younger students enrolled in the
Novem Conformavi
.

The elderly Sicari Lord still possessed a proud bearing and strong stride, but he seemed to move slower with each passing year. Eventually the old man’s time would come to join other Sicari Lords in the Elysium Fields. It was then that the
Absconditus
would lose a wise counsel and mentor, while Dante would lose a good friend. As his gaze met Placido’s, the elderly man sent him a look of disgust.

“From the expression on your face, you think me not long for the
Rogalis
,” the ancient warrior snapped. As Dante grimaced, the old man sighed heavily. “You are not wrong to think it so.”

“I’m certain there are many years yet before we plan your funeral.”

“Many?” Placido snorted with cynical amusement as he arched an eyebrow at Dante. “I didn’t come here to discuss my future. I wish to discuss yours.”

“Mine?”

Dante frowned in puzzlement. What was there to discuss? He was Tribune, heir apparent to the reigning Sicari Lord. When Marcus stepped down from his position, Dante would take his place. It had been decided long ago.