Inferno's Kiss (14 page)

He quickly folded the handwritten letter and sealed it in an envelope then lit the wick at the end of the short stick of wax. The melted wax splashed onto the flap of the envelope and began to set. As the wax was cooling, Nicostratus pulled a seal from the desk drawer and removed his ring to slide it into a notch on the seal. The moment it snapped into place, he used it to make an impression on the wax. He offered the sealed envelope to Draco. The expression on the man’s face amused him.

“The seal is a remnant from years past when sealed documents meant they were genuine. A bit dramatic, but it appeals to the romantic in me,” he murmured with a smile, knowing full well that there wasn’t a romantic bone in his body. The seal represented his complete authority. “When you give this to Signor Maida, he’ll know it’s an official authorization from me.”

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Draco then immediately turned his attention to the paperwork in front of him. The Prior quickly got to his feet and bowed slightly before heading toward the door. The man had just reached the door when Nicostratus came to a decision.

“As an afterthought,” he said without looking up from his paperwork. “I think your initial assumptions about Angotti’s mistress were correct. Make her disappear. Quietly.”

No sooner had he spoken than something malevolent scraped across his mind, and he jerked his head up to look at the Prior’s back. Almost at the same moment, Draco wheeled around, his expression still stoic, but his posture that of a warrior prepared for the unexpected.

“Is everything all right, Excellency?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” Nicostratus lied as he studied the Prior closely.

“There for a moment, I thought . . . forgive me. I’m mistaken.”

Nicostratus frowned as the man bowed again then left the study. Clearly the Prior had felt something as well. If it weren’t for the man’s reaction, he’d be inclined to think the sensation he’d experienced had come from Draco himself.

His fingers drummed a soft rhythm on the desktop as he wondered if he’d made a mistake where the Prior was concerned. Normally he would have researched a potential successor to Gabriel quite extensively, and yet he’d chosen Draco without any forethought at all. Nicostratus grunted.

He lifted the lid of his laptop and clicked the e-mail icon. He’d have James run a full profile on Draco starting tomorrow. If anything out of the ordinary showed up, then Draco Verdi and he would have a discussion that would end nice and neat.

Chapter 7

CLEO stood in the salon staring up at the portrait hung on the wall over a half-moon table. From his manner of dress, she wondered if the man in the painting was a Sicari Lord. He wore the same type of attire she’d seen her fa—She’d seen Marcus and Dante wear. She ignored the Freudian slip.

As she studied the portrait more closely, she drew in a quick breath of surprise. She wasn’t well versed in Italian artwork, but there was one artist she knew well. Sofonisba Anguissola. As far as she could tell, the portrait on the wall was an original. Her gaze focused on the man’s face.

She wondered if he might have been the leader of the Sicari Lords in his time period. Just like her father—Marcus was today. Another Freudian slip. She frowned and released a harsh sigh. Eventually, she would have to face the man. It wasn’t something she really wanted on her bucket list, but in all fairness to Marcus, it wasn’t like he was a deadbeat dad.

Her mother had lied about his existence to Cleo and had kept Marcus in the dark as well. The thought made her tighten her mouth with anger. If there was anything her mother should never have lied to her about, it was who her father was. She understood the reasons for her mother’s actions, but it was the past three years of silence that she was having trouble accepting.

Atia should have told her the truth after Cleo had lost the baby and the doctors had confirmed she’d never be able to have children. Her hand automatically went to her stomach. She’d always wanted kids, and now . . . she closed her eyes for a brief moment. It was over and done with. Dwelling on it wasn’t going to change anything. But it should have changed her mother’s decision about keeping her father a secret.

Cleo’s gaze returned to the portrait on the wall. It was bad enough learning that her real father was alive, but the fact that he was a Sicari Lord only raised the bar for her. The Sicari Lords had always been an elusive part of the Order’s long history. Until that night in the Pantheon, she’d not really believed they existed. Now, she was knee-deep in Sicari Lords.

Her lack of skills had always made her feel like she was standing on the outside looking in when it came to the Order. It was why she pushed herself so hard to be one of the best-trained fighters the Order had. But the
Absconditus
. . . this was something altogether different. She’d never felt so completely out of her depth in her entire life. So far this morning she’d seen more than a dozen people during her quiet exploration, and she had no idea who was a Sicari Lord and who was
Vigilavi
. And she sure as hell didn’t want to ask.

Just being here made her nervous, and she didn’t like the feeling, especially when her host had deserted her last night. The man had disappeared moments after their arrival, leaving the stoic Cornelia to arrange for Cleo’s
Curavi
and a room for the night. On some inexplicable level, the way Dante had abandoned her ticked her off.

On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to face the man just yet. Particularly when there was something about him that made her body tighten with pleasurable tension. When he’d pushed back his hood last night, her heart had skipped a beat. She’d always appreciated the beauty of the human face, and Dante’s was no exception.

Despite the darkness, he’d been close enough for her to see his sharp, angular features. It had been impossible to tell the color of his eyes, but his dark hair had a slight curl to it, and
Deus
, that mouth. He could easily pleasure a woman in so many ways with that beautiful mouth of his. Her stomach did a slight flip-flop at that last thought. What would he be like in bed?

She frowned. Somehow Dante didn’t seem like the type who’d easily fall into bed with just any woman who crossed his path. If anything, he seemed a little uptight. Although she had to give him major points for having the kind of voice that could give a woman an orgasm without even touching her.

She drew in a quick breath then blew it out just as quickly.
Christus
, the man wasn’t just a Sicari—he was a Sicari Lord. And ever since Michael, she’d made it a point to only get involved with
Vigilavi
. They understood the Order, and like her, they didn’t have any special powers. They wouldn’t reject her because she was a freak.

“
Signorina
.”

She jumped as someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she whirled around to assume a defensive posture. The young man facing her eyed her with amusement until she scowled at him. In an instant, his expression became one of polite respect. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, but he had the air of someone much older.

“
Signorina
, I am here to take you to the Tribune Condellaire.”

“Tribune?” She narrowed her gaze at him in puzzlement as a small, indefinable thought fluttered around in the back of her mind like a mad butterfly. “You mean Dante?”

“Yes,
signorina
. The Tribune would like you to join him in the garden.”

Now
the man wanted to see her. He’d left her hanging all morning feeling lost and out of place, and he’d finally decided he was ready to see her. Instead of coming for her, Dante had sent someone else to fetch her. And it
was
a summons, which was like adding insult to injury.
He
needed
her
, not the other way around.

She had the information from Angotti, and she wasn’t about to let Dante off the hook when it came to her involvement. She was going into that convent whether he liked it or not. She jerked her head at him.

“Lead the way,” she said.

The boy’s manner changed immediately at her authoritative tone of voice. It was as if he’d suddenly realized she wasn’t just another pretty face and he’d underestimated her. It didn’t surprise her. A lot of people, mostly Praetorians, did that. It was the downside to being pretty. First impressions often resulted in others thinking she was a helpless, brainless female. The truth was she’d easily give up her looks if she could have a Sicari ability. The young man bowed slightly in her direction then gestured for her to follow him.

He led the way out of the salon and down a corridor she’d not explored yet. It brought them into another salon like the one they’d just left. This room was similar to all the others she’d visited this morning. It was elegantly furnished, and artwork filled the walls, tables, and anywhere there was space available. Despite her limited experience, she was certain most, if not all, of the artworks were priceless pieces. The house was a virtual living museum.

No. The word
house
was a misnomer. It was actually a palace. Small, but a palace nonetheless. Surrounded by a tall, unassuming stone wall, the Sicari Lord installation didn’t look like much from the street. But once you were past the gates and inside, it was breathtaking. She’d spent all morning walking through at least six different rooms and studying the opulent decor and each room’s artwork.

They moved from one room to the next via the corridor that connected them until they reached a stained glass door. The young man opened the door without touching the handle. He stepped aside and waved his hand toward the open doorway.

The late-morning air was pleasantly warm despite the fact that it wasn’t quite April yet. A lattice walkway covered in grapevines provided shade from the sun beaming down on a large ornamental garden situated in the middle of the house. She’d gotten glimpses of the sizable courtyard from one of the windows earlier, but as she stepped out from under the covered walkway, she took her first good look at the garden.

As she studied her surroundings, she realized the house was designed like an ancient Roman residence, centered around a
peristylium
. The stone columns she’d seen lining the hallway had to be the remains of a colonnade walkway. The breezeway had since been closed off, making it one long hallway that wrapped its way around the garden.

She stepped out from under the covered walkway and welcomed the warmth of the sun on her face before a movement she saw out of the corner of her eye diverted her attention. Across the expanse of the stone-paved courtyard, she saw Dante going through the slow movements of a martial arts exercise. Immediately, she experienced a quiet tranquility that relaxed her. It was an unfamiliar sensation, almost as if she was experiencing his calm state of mind. Fuck, what was she thinking? She couldn’t sense emotions. But physical chemistry? That, the man had in spades, and she loved looking at him.

The only thing he wore was a pair of black, loose-fitting trousers. Entranced, she watched his leg come up in a slow high kick, his foot flexing inward with his toned arms extended in perfect position. The muscles of his back rippled as he slowly descended from the high kick and sank down toward the ground.

In a controlled movement, his leg slid out to one side, while his entire body dropped into a low crouch until she couldn’t see any space between his extended leg and the ground. As he moved, his hand followed the line of his inner thigh, gliding toward his foot then up into the air. The slowly defined movements of his exercise displayed the power of his muscular arms and emphasized the strength of his legs.

She didn’t budge an inch as she watched him move fluidly from one position to the next. It was like watching a large tiger in a confined area. Raw, lethal power hidden beneath the skin, and the promise of blazing speed. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have turned away, because he was beautiful to watch.

Her gaze followed the path his arms made through the air, and she couldn’t help remembering how he’d carried her to the car last night. She’d liked it. Maybe a little too much. And now, seeing him like this . . . Her mind shifted gears as she imagined running her hands over his delicious-looking chest, shoulders, and back. From there her thoughts went a little wild as she pictured what else she’d like to do to the man.

The way he suddenly stiffened then jerked out of his exercise to whirl around and face her made her frown as she walked toward him.
Christus
, was the guy blushing? No, he couldn’t be. Exertion. That’s what it had to be. Of course, if he’d been reading her mind—

Okay, that thought didn’t make her happy.

Telepathy was an intimacy that required permission among the Sicari, and she’d not given it. She didn’t care
how
glorious his body was. On second thought, she might be able to give a little for that reason. And
Deus
, he did have a body.

The color in his face seemed to deepen, and she eyed him suspiciously as she came to a halt in front of him. Hell, he looked like she’d caught him with his hand in a cookie jar. Then again, maybe it was because she was still drooling over him like a woman who hadn’t had sex in a while.

She ignored the voice that emphasized precisely how long it had been. Instead, she reminded herself that he’d abandoned her last night and taken his sweet time summoning her this morning. Not to mention how he’d sent junior for her rather than coming himself.

“You wanted to see me?” Her irritation at the way he’d left her hanging for the entire morning came through loud and clear in her voice.

“Yes, we need to talk about what Angotti told you.” Dante turned away from her and picked up a black martial arts jacket off the grassy area where he’d been exercising.

“Not until I have some assurances from you about including me in the rescue mission,” she said as she watched him shrug on the jacket then tie it closed.

As he knotted the sash around his waist, she noted his strong hands and long fingers. In the next breath she envisioned his hands caressing her breasts, his thumbs rubbing across her nipples until they ached for him to suckle her. The image made her wet, and she drew in a deep breath then released it in exasperation.
Merda
, she needed to stop thinking about the man’s body and focus on the topic at hand. But damn, the man really was delicious eye candy. He was a red-hot waiting to dissolve on her tongue. An odd expression crossed his face as he met her gaze. For a second time, she got the impression he was embarrassed.