Fated: Torn Apart by History, Bound for Eternity (39 page)

Deep in thought, Brutus did not hear Syra approach.

“
Let me help you.”

Syra set down a bowl of water and washed his hands. Soon the bowl turned a dark red. Brutus was somehow reluctant to completely cleanse the blood away. He was loath to part with the last of Caesar.

“
You should not hold on so tightly,” she said.

There was no doubt that Syra was right, yet Brutus found it difficult to comply. Caesar had known without reserve that Brutus was not his offspring, yet his final words were as a father to his son.

Tenderly, Syra opened his tight fist and rinsed the red stains from his palm. As the last of the blood disappeared, Brutus felt his strength wane. Syra must have felt his distress, for she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“
You did what you must.”

For all the right reasons, he had done a most horrible thing.

* * *

Syra leaned against the railing as the moon finally set. It would be only a few hours, and the sun would rise once again. Horat had set anchor earlier and gone down below. She had promised to do likewise, but found she could not stop watching the stars as they moved overhead. Syra had put Brutus to bed hours ago and hoped the rest would soothe his mind.

It tore at her to see him in such pain. She should have damned history and just done the deed herself.

Brutus was always filled with more doubt and trepidation than she. He wished to know the why and the how rather than the what and the when. For all their lives together, this never changed. A single man was dead, and the world would benefit. Syra had not a single qualm about Brutus’ decision. But she knew her lover had many.

If they had any hope of rescuing even a semblance of a life together, Brutus would need his wits about him. They had served history, and once Octavius was in power, they could leave this blasted continent. Leave the Romans to their own right.

While she held great affection for the city, it was now only one of many that she had loved. There were other towns, other villages, other nations they could retire to. The world was a far larger place than even Rome’s wide borders. Perhaps when he awoke, Brutus would realize the same.

* * *

Brutus stirred and felt the coarse muslin against his skin. He had not remembered changing from his ceremonial toga. But this rough, gray material had not a single drop of blood. Looking at his hands, Brutus realized that they, too, were rinsed of his deed. If only his heart could be cleansed so easily. Surveying the cabin, he realized Syra was not present. Rising, he made his way back up to the deck.

There Syra stood, silhouetted by the reflection of the water. Long red hair tumbled down past her shoulders, glistening in the low light. The sight stunned him. Thoughts of Caesar receded as he soaked in her beauty. What was done was done.

If there was a singular lesson he had learned through the ages, it was that history was immutable—and completely unstoppable. If his hand had not been the one to strike a blow, someone else would have, and with far poorer results. Even reluctantly, Brutus had taken his place within the annals of history. Now it was time for him to willingly take his place beside his Fated.

With every step he took closer to Syra, Brutus could feel blood pound in his ear. The curves that outlined her body reminded him of why he was so very glad to be alive. To see his Fated radiant like this was the sole reason he persevered through these trials. It was the only thing that truly mattered.

Syra turned, a look of worry upon her face. Brutus let a slight smile come to his lips. She need not fret any longer.

* * *

Syra watched as Brutus approached. The pain and doubt had vanished under the cover of sleep. Gone too were the shy glances from the Roman. This was the man she had loved for an eternity.

Unlike that first night at Brutus’ when he had shied away from her naked form, Syra noticed that the senator soaked her up with his eyes. There was not a square inch of her skin that he did not survey. Her nipples tightened under his scrutiny, sending a wave of pleasure down her belly to her groin. All this. and he had not even touched her yet.

“
Syra.” It was more a moan than a word.

Brutus took a step closer and reached his hand out. Syra leaned her face into his palm as he brought her lips to his. The kiss the day before had been nothing like this.

Tonight, Syra could feel the touch of his lips all the way deep within her loins. They had made love a thousand times before, but the first time within a body was always unique. It was the first time she could share with him all the feelings that eclipsed words. How else could she convey to Brutus that her bones ached when he was not in the same room?

Only her body making Brutus’ own bones ache when she kissed him could convey her love. There were no words to express that a single smile from him could make her heart pound against her sternum.

“
Where is Horat?” Brutus asked, passion nearly choking off his words.

“
Below. We have the deck to ourselves.”

Syra did not object when his hand wandered down her neck, then settled on her breast. The gentle lapping of the water seemed to be just for them. Groaning as he squeezed the fullness of her chest, Syra’s own hand traced the outline of his toga. As his kiss became more urgent, she slipped the cloth from his shoulder. The toga slid from his body and landed in a pile upon the floor.

Brutus kicked the material away as he freed her from her dress. Their bodies were pressed against one another as Brutus’ hand settled on her hip and pulled her even closer. His excitement was hard against her. Now not just her skin was moist.

She left his mouth, and her lips traveled down his neck. His aroma was the all. The taste of his sweat excited her tongue. Syra sought his nipple and began teasing it with her teeth until it was as erect as hers. Brutus’ groan of delight sent shivers up her spine.

Suddenly, it all seemed too much, too sharp in her mind. It was only hours ago that Brutus was beyond consoling. This was too soon. Syra turned away and meant to move apart, but Brutus’ hands would not allow her. He leaned her back into his chest.

Syra watched the water flow past them as Brutus held her in his embrace, his chin resting on her shoulder. She could feel him bulge against her buttocks. Now he was moist as well. Brutus rocked her hips against him rhythmically. Syra felt a moan slip from her lips. Her Fated knew her too well.

Despite centuries together, there were times when the intimacy was too great. When she could feel her self-control slip, Syra would pull back to escape of the intensity, but her love refused her. Her own body now conspired against her as well. Her legs met his rhythm and brought her body up and down against his manhood.

Brutus became hard as their bodies grew as close as their souls. His hand stroked her belly as she arched into him. There were evenings they could make foreplay last until the moon set, but not this night. It had been too long since she had known his passion. She felt empty and needed him to fill her.

Parting her legs, she invited him to claim his right as her Fated. Brutus teased her with the tip of his excitement. With her back to him, Syra could not stop his sensuous torture. He would dip inside enough to part her, then withdraw so that she could feel the pressure, but not enough to quench her.

“
Do not toy with me so,” Syra whispered, as once again he pulled back, denying her his sword.

“
Do you know how many nights I dreamed of just this moment?”

With that said, Brutus brought her hips back and gently thrust himself deeper within her. She could not stop the sharp cry that escaped her lips.

“
What is wrong?” Brutus asked, withdrawing a bit.

“
Nothing.” Syra reached back and stroked his neck, her hips begging him to indulge himself again.

He could not be so easily fooled, however. With sure hands, Brutus turned her to face him. “Have I hurt thee?”

Standing on tiptoes, Syra reached up and kissed him fully. “Never.”

She slid her left leg up and hooked it over his hip. Given his state of arousal, there was nothing he could do but slip into her wetness. Syra tried to keep the sting off her face, but Brutus was too attentive. He used his hands to keep their hips apart.

“
Syra…”

“
It doesn’t matter,” Syra said as she began kissing his nipple again. “I need you inside of me.”

Brutus brushed the hair from her face and pulled her chin from his chest. His eyes searched her face. Syra could see the look of recognition cross his face. This Scottish body was not used to his thickness, for she was a virgin.

* * *

Brutus’ heart sank as he realized Syra’s small secret. His sadness was not that she was a virgin. His love had saved him the most precious gift. No, it was the shame in his own heart that he had not held in reserve the same for her. Even unconscious to his Fate, Brutus wished beyond all else he had never lain with another woman. Did his heart not know he was meant only for Syra?

She must have felt his waning passion, for she pulled their hips together with her leg. Her hand followed the trail of hair down his belly to the nest of his desire. Her fingers teased the throbbing back to a full roar.

“
It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, as her hand encouraged him to thrust again.

Even though this was not the first life in which one of them had been intimate with another, Brutus still felt he had betrayed her. “None else—”

Syra silenced him with a finger to his lips. “You are always mine. Will you let their memory spoil this moment?”

Brutus let her kiss away his regret as he became thick again. With passion flowing through his veins, he picked Syra up and carried her below deck to their cabin. He would know the feel of her, but he would not do it like a boar in rut.

“
What are you doing?” Syra asked as she settled herself on top of his desire.

“
I want to watch you,” Brutus stated honestly.

Laying her down upon the settee, he watched as her breasts rose and fell from her hurried breath. Her skin was flushed a deep pink. His hand stroked her nipples, feeling them pucker under his ministrations. Massaging her belly, his fingers drew nearer and nearer to the soft mound of hair that graced her pubis.

“
Please, just—”

Brutus silenced her with his lips. Kissing her mouth, Brutus’ finger combed the coarse hair gently. Feeling her legs quiver against him, he reached deeper within. Touching her moisture, Brutus found the small protuberance that made Syra moan in utter pleasure. He allowed her to suck his tongue in rhythm with his finger, stroking her to higher and higher planes of passion.

Brutus was not so arrogant to believe that he was the most endowed male in Rome, but he could tell by the look of pain on her face earlier that her body was not yet ready for his full desire. Even though his own pulse pounded in his ear so loudly that a war could break out in the next room without him hearing, Brutus kept the pace slow and steady. He knew preparing her for his passion would only enhance his own pleasure later.

Leaving the mound, Brutus allowed his fingers to test further in. Her lips parted for his fingers as his digits explored the moisture deep within her. Syra broke off their kiss, but this time not from pain, but pleasure. Her pelvis rocked up into his hand, begging him to thrust deeper. Using his fingers as he would his member, Brutus complied. Moving his thumb up, he began stroking her mound while his fingers moved in and out of her.

* * *

The world was a vague blur beyond the image of Brutus’ face. The sting of intrusion had been replaced by pure ecstasy. Syra’s legs tensed as her groin tightened. She could feel herself stiffen under his thumb. His fingers stroked at just the right angle to make her body believe that he was truly within her. The tingling began deep inside, then radiated outward. Brutus must have sensed her arousal, for his rhythm became faster. Too fast for Syra to control her body’s reaction.

“
I’m too close.”

Brutus nuzzled her breast. “You are
never
too close.”

Syra tried to squirm out from under his hand, but Brutus kept stroking. “Not until you are inside of me,” she begged, but Brutus did not listen.

Instead, his fingers took on new urgency. Syra tried to will her body to calm, but it had the opposite effect. Brutus’ thumb found exactly the right spot, and Syra’s body felt like it rode a bubble up into the heavens.

Then the pent-up energy burst as if it were a crashing wave upon her body. A wall of water seemed to tumble her under the surf, only to bring her back up and roll her under again. Wave after wave spilled over her body until the intensity finally faded to that of water lapping at a tide pool. Then even that evaporated into nothing.

Syra let out a strangled gasp. She had not even realized she had been holding her breath. Brutus kissed her neck as she tried to recover. He slid his fingers out and swung his body over her. With passion sparkling in his eyes, her Fated began to mount her, but she resisted.