Fated: Torn Apart by History, Bound for Eternity (40 page)

* * *

Brutus could not keep the concern from his face. Had he misread Syra’s mood? Did she not wish to share his pleasure as well? A sly smile gave away his love’s mind however. Following her direction, Brutus slid onto his back as she swung a leg over his hips.

Lowering herself down as if she were straddling a horse, Syra moved with confidence. This time there was no flinch of discomfort as his shaft dove deeply into her. Riding him as the expert horsewoman that she was, it was not long before he felt his own pleasure quicken. He wished the sensation to last longer, but Syra was being as persistent with her ministrations as he had been with his.

Pressure built until he could no longer hold back. Exploding within her, he felt her spasm around him, heightening his pleasure until the room swam before his eyes. Syra collapsed down onto his chest as they both panted from the exertion. Still dizzy from the release, Brutus stroked her long red hair. The gods could claim him for their own now. He was now privy to more of heaven than Venus.

* * *

Syra smoothed back a lock of Brutus’ hair. His forehead was still slick with the sweat from their lovemaking. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He looked like any other man. Yet as she traced his collarbone, she knew he was not. As different as this body was from all the others he had inhabited, it still felt the same under her touch— warm and inviting.

Now she knew what that yearning in her bones had always called for. It was this moment when she felt finally whole. The Fated were always driven by this unquenchable desire to find the other. No matter their circumstances, they were drawn together.

For the first time since they had been reunited at the slave auction in Rome, Brutus’ face was at peace. The worry of the last month had melted from him. How she wished he could always look like this. Their duty always weighed far heavier on his shoulders. He would never share the depth of his angst, but she could tell by the set of his jaw after the assassination that this life was most difficult.

“
There is no need to stop,” Brutus said, even though his eyes were still closed.

She reached down and kissed his cheek as her fingers kept playing with his hair. “You should sleep.”

“
And miss this? Never.”

Syra wished she could say they would have years to indulge their passion, but there was no point. For neither of them knew what the future held. Would Antony organize his forces and strike at the dawn? Or would they be lucky enough to escape bloodshed for a fortnight? Perhaps a whole season?

Brutus’ eyes opened and surveyed her face as if reading her mind. “We do not need to meet up with Cassius. If you wish it, we can flee to the north or the east.”

“
Shh,” Syra whispered as she stroked the skin around his eyes, willing them to close again. “I will not have what you have done go to waste. We are The Fated. We shall do our duty.”

The man she loved refused to release his gaze. “But why, Syra? Why must it always be like this?”

“
We can ask much, my love, but not why,” Syra said as she leaned over and kissed his eyelids. “Never why.”

Brutus’ hands found her waist and pulled her into a kiss. Syra’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears as his desire poured through her body. Despite her exhaustion, she responded in equal measure.

Because there was another question that could never be asked—how long would they have together? Surrendering to his passion, she squeezed her eyes closed to hide the tears. For however long they did have, Syra would not squander a single moment.

* * * * *

EPILOGUE

September 9
^th
, 41 B.C.

39 miles east of Athens, Greece

Brutus watched as the others argued over the battle strategy. For the past three years they had been chased through all of Rome, finally retreating to Greece. But Antony and Octavius’ armies were still hard on them. They were running out of room to flee. Besides, Brutus tired of this game. The ploy had worked. Octavius was well ensconced in Rome. The three years of alignment with Antony had given him the time and experience to rise as a statesman with no equal. Even though Antony had taken Cleopatra as his ally, the Order felt confident that Octavius would win out to become the sole Emperor.

Brutus was distracted as Syra slammed a hand down upon the map table. Her anger at Cassius was not at all veiled.

“
We need to go out onto that field strong! Let Antony see the whole of our army!”

Cassius was equally heated. “This is not a bragging right. We must keep some to the rear. Antony will do the same.”

“
That is exactly why we must not.” Syra pointed to the map. “Antony is no Caesar. He holds a poor position. If we sweep in from the north in full force, we can cut him off from his reinforcements.”

“
That will trap us between his lines.”

“
We will be prepared. Keep our rear troops fresh for the assault.”

The two continued arguing as Brutus watched. Even in anger, Syra could stand next to Venus and not suffer for it. They had been hounded and routed from place to place, but with her at his side, Brutus had not cared. To see her just now, with her red hair flashing in the candlelight, was enough to feed his eyes for a decade. And to know her body every night was a feast for his soul.

Despite centuries together, each life held its own secrets. Each grew in their own way before they were Awakened. Each had so much to share that even three years was not enough to reveal the all to one another. Even though he had never traveled north, Brutus could see the rolling green hills in Syra’s eyes when she spoke of her adopted homeland. Her voice would thicken when she told him of Scotland. How he so wanted to take her back there. He wished to see this gem of a land Syra described breathlessly every night.

But such a trip was not in the making. Even though their task was played out and there was no reason to keep the ruse, Brutus could not risk fleeing the conflict with Antony. He had a plan to free Syra from this trap, but he could not share it, for she would never agree. It was unthinkable to leave her, but that he must.

“
Cassius is right.”

Syra swung around with anger in her eyes. “He wishes to continue this damnable stalemate. We can win on this field. I know it.”

Any other time, Brutus would have commended her zeal, but not this day. She was right, but he could not let on. History wished to move forward, and he would not stall it any longer. Octavius could never rise to power until Cassius and Brutus were eliminated.

Brutus shook his head. “Your plan risks too much. We must conserve our forces, even more than Antony does.”

Cassius’ face glowed with satisfaction. It was seldom that Brutus sided with him. The older senator had been aghast when he was told that Syra would take part in these strategies, but his objection faded the first time Syra saved him from a broadsword. Still, Cassius was loath to take anyone’s orders, woman or not.

“
Let me give the order, Brutus. We must be prepared before sunrise.”

“
Aye.”

As Cassius left the tent, Syra’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Do you wish to lose this battle?”

Brutus kept his face stoic. How he wished he could share his reasons with his love, but after centuries together, he knew she would not understand. And worse, she had the means to stop him from fulfilling his goal. No, this day he must walk his own path to ensure that hers was left open.

“
You taste victory, my love. That is not our duty here. Only to keep Antony and Octavius aligned.”

She studied his face, then let out a long breath. “To teach that arrogant Roman a lesson would not necessarily violate our roles, you know.”

Brutus allowed a true smile to spread across his face as he pulled her into an all- encompassing embrace. “I know.”

He held her so tight against him that he risked hurting her. She let out a small yip as he squeezed even harder.

Syra pulled back. “Is something wrong?”

Brutus could not hide much from his Fated. Instead, he must misdirect her. “I have a surprise for you.”

Laughing, Syra came back into his arms. “After all this time, I doubt that very much.”

Brutus raised an eyebrow in feign. “Really? Then follow me.”

For if all went as planned, this would be the last time they would have together. Meeting Horat’s eyes over Syra’s head, he gave a curt nod. The servant acknowledged his order and left the tent. His Guardian would make sure that their reinforcements never saw the battlefield.

* * *

Syra allowed Brutus to lead her through the thicket, away from the war table, but she did not relent in her attempt to sway his mind.

“
There is still time to rethink, Brutus. Trouncing Antony might be the very thing Octavius needs to consolidate power.”

But her love simply led her deeper and deeper into the forest.

There were times when she truly wondered about the man she had spent next to eternity with. He wished to take a stroll in the woods rather than hammer out a keening blow to their mortal enemy.

“
Perhaps we could merge Cassius’ and my plan and—”

He turned to her and most gently put a finger to her lips.

“
Come.”

Brutus urged her through a break in the trees to a small clearing. At the very center lay a ring of fire. Low yet bright, the flames brightened the area as if a hundred candles burned.

“
Do you remember?”

How could she forget?

It had been a time before candles. A time before even wax. They had so few words, yet so much was spoken that night. It was before they knew of the Order or even their own destiny.

They had just Awoken for the first time. Their clans had joined for a great hunt and once seeing the other, they were drawn to each as bees to a hive. Out in the steppes, tired and hungry after chasing down a wounded mastodon, they had found a moment alone. That was all it took. They met one another’s lips with passion and their bond washed over them, cementing once again.

Unfortunately, the clan leader still considered Syra his. Brutus had been forced to kill him, and they had fled into the night. Hunting parties close on their trail chased them for three days and three nights. Finally, they could run no more.

Just as their legs gave out, they came upon a clearing in the wood very similar to this one. The ring of fire dared them to enter. Normally they would have shied away from the flames, run, and hidden themselves, because their fear of fire was so great. But in the glade so long ago, it was overcome that fear or die.

So they jumped within the circle and when the clans came with crude spears brandished, they were saved. Not just saved but revered. Brutus was made leader and brought many a clan within their fold.

It had all been so long ago, hundreds of lives, yet she could remember the sweat sheening across Brutus’ chest, just as it was now.

Did she remember? The question was clearly rhetorical.

Brutus guided her to the edge of the ring and reached out his hand.

“
Together?”

Syra smiled. This is how they had fought their fear. Together.

She took his hand and squeezed as they leapt up and over the knee-high flame. The blast of heat a sure reminder of the first time.

But unlike then, she found a small table set with some of Greece’s finest delicacies and a large yak skin as a bed.

“
I could not find a mastodon,” he commented, a smile upon his lips.

“
I imagine not,” Syra replied, as he pulled his hand from hers.

He offered her a small plate with steamed squid—one of her favorites. But her eyes narrowed. This had taken a bit of planning, especially on the run from Antony’s troops.

“
What is this for?”

He grinned at her. “So, you do not remember?”

Syra gazed about her. Each item, even the small, low table, represented a life they had lived, each precious and sacred. But clearly, Brutus still had a surprise left.

“
It is our anniversary.”

Her mind raced. This was fall. “Our Awakening was upon the Ides.”

“
Not this anniversary, Syra. Our first.”

It could not be. “We did not have calendars, Brutus. We did not even know how to tan hides, even!”

“
So true.” Then he looked up at the sky. “But we had the stars, and we felt the seasons within our bones.”

When he looked down at her once again, his face was filled with wonder. “This is the night. I have marked it in my heart forever.”

She took the plate from him and set it back down onto the table. “Then perhaps we should forgo dinner and commemorate that night.”

They needed no more words, very similar to their first time. He wrapped his strong arms around her as she kissed the hollow of his neck. Lifting her, Brutus carried her over to the rug and laid her gently upon it.