Assassin's Honor (48 page)

           
"You'll have to talk to someone eventually, Emma." Lysander's voice was quiet yet firm. "You're one of us now. You need to learn how to control your ability."

           
"Not now, Lysander. I'm too tired. Let me lick my wounds first," she whispered.

           
The Sicari warrior grunted his response and she heard the latch click softly as he closed the door behind him. She knew the Primus Pilus was right, but she needed time to absorb it all.
Time to reconcile herself to the fact that her first use of her ability had been to kill someone.

           
Not even after her parents were murdered did she ever think she had it in her to kill someone, let alone find herself forced to do so. Justice was one thing; meting out that justice was altogether different. Somehow, she'd find a way to live with what she'd done. It didn't help knowing that she bore some of the blame for her current predicament. God, she'd been so stubborn.

           
A tremor of pain lashed through her as she realized she wouldn't have changed a thing that had led to this moment. Despite all the heartache she was experiencing now, she would do it all again. Exhaustion sank deep into her bones and she thought she heard the door open, but she didn't turn her head. Instead, she drifted off into oblivion. But the last thought flitting through her mind was whether she could survive all of this without Ares.

           
EMMA hit the training mat hard, the air in her lungs whooshing out of her in a rush. For what had to be the one-thousandth time, Cleo Vorenus had dropped her to the mat when Emma had failed to ward off the woman's attack. So far, the woman's attempt to teach her how to use her new ability for defense had resulted primarily in bruises more than anything else.

           
The Sicari fighter had an easygoing nature, but Cleo pulled no punches when it came to training. It was proving to be a challenge learning how to control the power she'd received through her blood bond with Ares. The thought of him crept out of its hiding place in her head, and a sudden longing lashed through her.

           
She missed him. No one had mentioned his name around her, and if he was still in the complex, he'd managed to make himself invisible. He'd taken her at her word and gone away. Instead of asking for him, she'd huddled in her room for more than two days before Lysander had ordered her to work with Cleo.

           
He'd bluntly informed her that her ability wasn't going to go away, and she needed to learn how to control it unless she wanted the whole world to know what she could do. She hadn't protested because she knew he was right. But she also knew how much she'd been hoping Ares would ignore her request to stay away and come order her out of bed.

           
Several hours after Ares had left her room that terrible night, she'd seen her father's notebook on the nightstand beside her bed. She was certain Ares had left it there deliberately, but she'd been reluctant to consider why. Was it a sign that he cared for her? That he wanted her to know she was more important to him than finding the Tyet of Isis. What if it had been his way of saying she still had to fulfill the blood bond? She was afraid to ask. She loved him so much, and the thought of knowing he didn't feel the same way made her stomach churn.

           
The diary had left a trail of bodies behind it over the past five years, and the latest casualty had been her heart. It was so bruised and battered she'd been uncertain as to whether she had it in her to even open the notebook. It had taken her almost an hour before she found the courage to pick it up. And just as Atia had suspected, her father had written his most critical notes in code.

           
It had taken her several days to decipher just two pages of text, and when she'd finished, she'd learned her father had pieced together enough evidence to convince him that the Tyet of Isis was in Rome. But he'd believed the key to actually finding the artifact was at Rennes le Chateau in France. Although Atia had been elated to learn Emma had deciphered her father's diary, the Prima Consul had been less than enthused by Emma's request to travel to France.

           
In fact, the Sicari leader had emphatically rejected the idea, citing the fact that Emma needed more training and time to adjust to her Sicari ability. But when Emma had pointed out that she was the best person to go, Atia had at least agreed to consider the possibility. Emma was confident the Prima Consul would eventually give in. The woman had no other choice really. Aside from Ares, there was no one else more knowledgeable about where to hunt for the artifact.

           
What would Ares do when he found out she was going to France in search of the Tyet of Isis? Maybe he wouldn't care. No, he'd care. But would it be because he had feelings for her or because he cared more about the Tyet of Isis? He had left the diary with her. He'd not taken it with him like he could have. It was more than possible that he wouldn't even want her around. She made some hard accusations after she'd . . . she'd killed the Praetorian. Blaming him for everything had been unfair.

           
She was the one who'd interfered in the Dux Provocare when he'd told her not to. If she'd listened to him--trusted him--things would be different. Everything he'd done since the first time they'd met had been with her safety in mind. He'd taken her to his home to keep her safe, bonded with her so he could run the gauntlet in her place, and he'd tried to persuade her not to retrieve her father's diary. Then there were the Praetorians he'd fought to protect her, and afterward, he'd been there when she'd woken up. He'd tried to help her through the adjustment of gaining
a Sicari
ability, and she'd rejected him.

           
There was no doubt he'd made mistakes, but so had she. He'd asked her to trust him, and she hadn't. And was she really that sorry he'd bonded with her? After all, the man had tried to tell her the morning after what it would mean if he made love to her, but then neither one of them had been capable of thinking straight at that point. What if he'd explained and given her the chance to say no? Would she have refused him? A tremor shook through her at the memory of his touch. It wasn't a question she could answer given the fact that she was in love with him now. She missed him more than she thought it possible to miss anyone.

           
Instead of days, it seemed like weeks since she'd seen him. But he'd done exactly what she'd told him to do. He'd stayed away from her. Even the small hope that he might ignore her request was a ridiculous notion. His honor was so much a part of him that no matter how he felt, he was compelled to honor her request. He'd stayed away, which meant she'd have to go to him if she wanted any answers. But even if she went to him, what would she say? Worse, what would he say? The thought scared the hell out of her.

           
"Fotte.
Come on, Emma. You can do better than that." Cleo's sharp rebuke tugged her out of her deep thoughts. She looked up at the other woman, reminded once more as to how Cleo's language was at odds with her beauty. "This isn't a game. If you don't learn how to control your ability, you could wind up hurting an innocent bystander or, worse, getting yourself killed because you couldn't keep a Praetorian off of you."

           
With a nod, Emma got to her feet again. Five levels below Ares's penthouse, the gym took up one whole floor of the building. Equipped with state-of-the-art equipment, the facility was a popular venue from what she'd seen while working with Cleo. Wearily she met the other woman's irritated gaze.

           
She was still frightened by the strength of her new power, which was one of the reasons Cleo had been kicking her ass. She didn't want to hurt the woman.
Or anyone for that matter.
The thought of repeating what she'd done to Ares terrified her. She could have hurt him badly, maybe even killed him if he'd hit the wall the wrong way. She shuddered as she remembered the man she'd killed. Not one day passed when the horror of that event didn't send cold chills through her. She wondered if she'd ever get to a point where she could live with herself over it.

           
Cleo stood in the middle of the mat with her hands on her hips, glaring at Emma with disapproval. Although the pretty woman lacked telekinetic abilities, she more than made up for it by being an exceptional swordswoman and well skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Emma found it irritating as hell, because continuously landing on the thick, but hard mat wasn't the most pleasant of experiences.

           
"Come on, Emma. I don't have all day."

           
"All right, all right," she grumbled.

           
At least she was trying, for Christ's sake. She was looking forward to the day when her control over her ability would require only a simple nod and the woman would be eating dust. Emma narrowed her gaze at the woman. She never would have thought it would be this difficult to move things with her mind. Ares had always made it look so easy. But it took great control and focus.
Control.
That had been missing when she'd sent Ares flying across the room. She met the other woman's gaze, and Cleo glared back at her.

           
"Stop thinking about lover boy and get your mind on the matter at hand." The Sicari fighter's words made her freeze.

           
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asked tightly.

           
"It's obvious you've got Ares on the brain. I don't see you as the type to sleep around, but you sealed the blood bond with the man." Cleo shrugged nonchalantly. "So I figure you're in love with him. Although why you're refusing to go after him, I've no idea, because I'm betting he's fantastic in bed."

           
Emma closed herself off to everything but the image of the woman lying flat on her back. The sight of Cleo's astonishment as her legs flew out from under her sent a grim satisfaction sailing through Emma. As the woman landed on the mat with a loud thud, Cleo laughed out loud with genuine pleasure.

           
"Well, now, that's more like it." In a fluid move, the Sicari woman arched her back and flipped her body forward into a crouch before standing upright. "Do you see how easy that was? You just close yourself off to everything but moving the object you want to."

           
"Are we done here?" Emma said bleakly.

           
"For today."
Cleo grabbed her arm to stop her from walking away. "About Ares--I was just trying to get you to channel your energy. I didn't mean anything by it."

           
"
It's
fine, I'll get over it."

           
Emma shrugged off the woman's hand. It wasn't fine at all. She wasn't about to get over Ares anytime in the near future, if ever. The thought made her chest tighten until it hurt.

           
"Who are you trying to kid?" Cleo snorted. "You're crazy about the guy. Actually, I think you're well suited for each other. Ares needs a woman who can take him down a peg or two."

           
"I'm not that woman."

           
"No? You could have fooled me. Merda, half the guild knows you're crazy about the guy."

           
"Oh God."
Emma closed her eyes at the revelation.
To think that everyone else knew.
She panicked. What if Ares knew? She wasn't sure she was ready for that yet.

           
"Relax. Families know everything, including where the bodies are hidden. And we're family now. Besides, your secret's safe. Ares hasn't figured it out yet, and there are only a couple of people who have the guts to tell him."

           
Relief swept over her and she opened her eyes to look at Cleo. The woman undid the twist at the back of her head and allowed her midnight black hair to tumble onto her shoulders. She looked like an Italian cover model.
Better suited to being in a photo shoot for a Ferrari ad than standing in a Sicari training gym.
In the next second, the fighter gathered her black silk tresses up in a fresh ponytail and knotted it at the back of her head. As she tugged on her hair, Cleo narrowed her gaze at her.

           
"For what it's worth, I think you've adapted to your new ability a hell of a lot better than any other alieni I've worked with."

           
"Have I?" Emma eyed the woman with skepticism.

           
"Yes. You're at a level of control that takes most alieni at least three or four months of training to achieve," Cleo said with an earnest expression. "Especially when you take into consideration the fact that you discovered your telekinetic abilities for the first time in a life-and-death situation."

           
The image of that sword plunging into the man's chest made her stomach lurch. She buried the memory as deep as she could. In some ways, Cleo was right. It had been easier to adapt to her new ability than accepting what she'd done the first time she'd used her power. The other woman stepped forward and gently touched her shoulder.

           
"Look, I know it isn't easy dealing with the harsh reality of what happened to you. The first life I took was really hard on me. But it was a necessary task. The bastardo had molested and raped a three-year-old. He got off because some asshole at the police station lost critical evidence. Hell, even the confession was thrown out because of the way it was obtained."