Inferno's Kiss (46 page)

“I couldn’t save your brother,
carissima
, but I can save you.”

“I don’t want to be saved,” Cleo snapped as fear clawed its way through her. “I want you to get out of here. Now.”

“My mind is made up, Cleopatra.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. Her mother never used her whole name unless she was determined to have her way. Cleo met Lysander’s gaze over the top of her mother’s head. Her friend’s expression was grim as he shook his head slowly. Obviously, Lysander had fought this same battle and lost just like her.

“I grow weary of this emotional display. Either your daughter leaves or I’ll execute you both,” Nicostratus said in an impatient voice.

Atia pinned him with an icy look before returning her gaze to Cleo’s. The warmth in her mother’s eyes made Cleo’s heart twist with a grief that had already spread through her body until she ached. The pain in her jaw was nothing compared to the pain of saying good-bye to her mother.

“I love you, Mother.” She whispered the words, and Atia kissed Cleo on both cheeks.

“Not half as much as I love you,
bambina
,” Atia whispered as she stepped to one side and gently pushed Cleo toward Lysander. “Go on now. Lysander will take you home.”

Her gaze fixed on her mother, Cleo moved toward her friend, her heart breaking with each step she took. When she reached Lysander, he enveloped her in a bear hug that hardly eased the sorrow numbing her body.

“Don’t give up hope just yet, Cleo,” her friend murmured in her ear. “Have a little faith.”

Cleo raised her head to see Lysander’s look of determination. His black eye patch emphasized the white scars covering half of his face, his skin pulled tight with tension. There was a reflection of something else in his green eye that made her take heart. Had he planned something, or was he simply trying to ease her pain? She shook her head as he pulled a knife from his boot and cut the rope binding her hands together.

“I confess I never thought I’d have the pleasure of seeing the Order’s most prestigious member come before me without so much as a sigh of resistance.”

As Nicostratus’s gloating words drifted through the air, Cleo jerked away from Lysander and turned to see her mother standing in front of the Patriarch. There was a fierce, proud look about Atia that filled Cleo’s heart with admiration at the courage her mother was showing in the face of Nicostratus’s gleeful triumph.

“Shall we get this over with?” Atia said coolly. “I grow weary of your games.”

“As you wish.” Nicostratus turned his head toward Ignacio. “You shall do the honors, Firmani, since you arranged this little gathering.”

Cleo saw a haunted look flit across Ignacio’s face at the order, and he didn’t move. The Patriarch frowned as he nodded his head in the direction of Atia. For a moment, Cleo thought Ignacio would refuse the order, but he didn’t. His expression devoid of emotion, he walked toward Atia, and the moment her mother instinctively cringed backward, Cleo started forward. She didn’t get far, as Lysander’s fingers dug into her shoulder.

“Patience,” he whispered.

She glanced up at him and froze at the hint of satisfaction on his face. A second later, a familiar tendril of emotion wound its way through her thoughts, caressing her with a tenderness that made her heart swell with what she knew was a dangerous emotion.

“I told you I’d find you,
dolce cuore
.”

“So what took you so long?”
She buried her vulnerability deep, unwilling to accept what her heart was telling her. When Dante didn’t respond to her sarcasm, fear suddenly gripped her that she’d dreamed his voice in her head.

Behind her there was the soft sound of rock crumbling as someone approached the clearing. She turned her head toward the noise to see Marcus and Dante emerge from the trees. In a split second the area exploded with oaths and the loud whisper of swords drawn from leather sheaths.

“You deceitful Sicari bitch,” Nicostratus roared with fury as he pulled his sword and swung it at Atia. With a cry of horror, Cleo leaped forward. Before she even reached her mother, Ignacio’s sword stopped Nicostratus’s blade from touching Atia.

The surprise on the Patriarch’s face instantly twisted into one of murderous rage, and with a quick feint, Nicostratus tricked Ignacio into leaving his chest vulnerable to the other man’s blade. In a single thrust, the Patriarch drove his sword home. As Cleo reached Atia, Lysander passed them in a blinding flash of speed to confront Nicostratus.

The sudden clash of swords exploded in the clearing as she tried to pull her mother clear of the combat. Atia viciously jerked free of Cleo’s grasp and scrambled forward to pull Ignacio away from the fighting.

“Jupiter’s Stone, Mother. I need to get you out of here.”

“Not yet,” Atia snapped as she bent over her old friend.

Conflicting emotions lashed through her as she watched her mother kneel beside Ignacio and take his hand. A part of her wanted to kill the man where he lay, but another part of her wanted to cry because he was dying. She quickly picked up Ignacio’s sword then circled her mother to kneel at her mentor’s side, making sure she had a clear view of the fighting. Ignacio grabbed her arm with his hand, and she looked down at him.

“Forgive me,” he rasped. The plea tore at her heart, but she shook her head.

“No. What you did was unforgiveable,” she whispered. “You made me think you loved us. I can’t forgive that.”

“I do . . . love you.” Ignacio coughed hard for a moment, and a trickle of blood flowed from his mouth as his breathing grew labored. “I love both of you. But he . . . took you away from me. There was . . . nothing left for me.”

His gaze shifted to Atia’s, and he lifted his hand to touch her face. With a sorrowful expression, Atia took his hand in hers and gently stroked his sweating forehead.

“You saved my life, old friend. Thank you for that.”

“Would do it . . . again,” he murmured. “Would do it . . .”

Ignacio’s voice died away as his head lolled to the side, and Atia released a small cry of grief. Dante’s familiar thoughts mingled with Cleo’s in a frantic warning. She immediately jerked her gaze up and saw one of the Praetorians charging toward her and her mother. Cleo was on her feet in one fluid movement, the sword she held scraping against the Praetorian’s blade as she stopped his weapon from cutting Atia in two.

The awkwardness of her position prevented her from pushing the other fighter back, and his gloating smile irritated the hell out of her as she fought to keep her balance. The Praetorian’s smile vanished as Atia’s foot plowed into the middle of his crotch. With a grunt of pain, the fighter clutched at his groin, and Cleo twisted her sword against his. Her weapon circled the Praetorian’s in a swift move that disarmed the fighter. Not waiting for him to recover, Cleo was behind him with the tip of her sword pressing into the back of his neck.

“You are beaten, Praetorian, and I must ask your forgiveness. Do you give it?” Cleo bit out then waited for the man’s reply.

When he muttered a harsh no, she bit down on the inside of her cheek and drove the sword straight down, killing the Praetorian instantly. As the man crumpled to the ground, Atia called out a warning, and Cleo whirled around prepared to fight off another Praetorian.

“Fuck,” she snapped as she saw two Praetorians charging toward her.

The first one to reach her nearly took her head off, but she dropped and rolled past the fighter. As she came up in a swift springboard movement, her mouth gaped open as the second Praetorian ran his sword through the other fighter. As the Praetorian turned toward her, she recognized him as the man called Draco. Her savior didn’t speak. He simply bowed slightly and offered her a small smile before he ran off to help Marcus and Dante, who were fighting the remaining three Praetorians and the Dominus.

Cleo whirled around as Atia called her name and saw her mother pointing to where Lysander was battling Nicostratus. She took a quick step forward only to halt as she saw the Patriarch leave his guard open and Lysander strike the man a blow that left Nicostratus with a useless arm.

Not about to interfere with Lysander’s personal demons, she turned toward the other battle raging a short distance away. The sight of Draco deflecting a Praetorian sword aimed for her father’s back made her want to hug the man before she questioned her sanity for wanting to hug a Praetorian. When she saw Marcus falter slightly, she knew it was from surprise. The Sicari Lord barely gave Draco a nod of thanks before he launched a new attack on his Praetorian opponent.

As the Praetorian crossed swords with Marcus, the man thrust out his free hand and sent Draco flying backward. She grimaced. The Praetorian Dominus. Her gaze flitted toward Dante, who was battling the remaining three fighters by himself. He fended off one vicious attack while leaping up into the air and landing a powerful kick to the side of another fighter’s head. In the process, the third Praetorian sliced into Dante’s back. She heard him grunt with pain before he whirled about to strike out at his attacker.

Fear snaked through Cleo, and she raced forward to throw herself into the fray. Her sword clanged loudly against a Praetorian blade meant for Dante’s neck as she prevented the weapon from doing any damage. Clearly surprised by her attack, the fighter turned his head toward her.

“Time to die, bitch,” he growled fiercely.

“Not today, asshole.” Her sword raised to shoulder level, Cleo smiled and gestured at the Praetorian to attack. Inside her head, she felt the touch of Dante’s thoughts mix with hers.

“
Christus
, Cleopatra, will you get the fuck out of here? I can handle these
bastardi
.”
His mental order was a vivid reminder of the argument they’d had about her going to the Sicari installation.

“Sure you can, and if I hadn’t stepped in to help, you’d be headless right now.”
She didn’t bother to hide her contempt for his command as she countered the Praetorian’s oncoming blade then slammed her free hand into the man’s throat.

“Goddamnit, Cleopatra. Get out of here now. That’s an order.”

His thoughts were easy to ignore, as she was caught by surprise when the Praetorian she was fighting recovered from her blow faster than she expected. Gritting her teeth, she jammed the bottom of her foot into the Praetorian’s knee and heard a loud crack.

“Just because we slept together, Dante Condellaire, doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do.”
Her sword crashed against the Praetorian’s who was struggling to stand.
“Now get the fuck out of my head and let me do my job.”

Closing her thoughts off to everything but the task at hand, Cleo danced to the right to avoid the Praetorian sword heading directly for her chest. Spinning about on her heel, she ended up behind the Praetorian and dragged her sword across the back of his leg. Her blade left a deep cut that severed the fighter’s leg muscles, and he crumpled to the ground. With the tip of her sword against his throat, she saw the look of resignation on his face. This time when she asked forgiveness, her opponent granted it to her.

A quick glance in her father’s direction showed that Draco was hurt but standing, while Marcus had the Dominus on the defensive. To her far right, she saw Lysander locked in close combat with Nicostratus. As she watched, she saw Nicostratus sink to his knees, and a moment later Lysander executed the Patriarch. The loud grunt of pain behind her made her whirl back around to Dante.

Of the three Praetorians Dante had been fighting, only one was still standing. Her relief was short-lived as she saw Dante fly backward several feet without the Praetorian touching him.
Deus
, another Dominus. She’d thought there was only one.

Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach as she watched Dante regain his balance then circle the Praetorian with a wary expression on his face. She could tell they were equally matched, but the idea of something happening to Dante scared the hell out of her.

“Goddamnit, Cleopatra, I’m not going to tell you again. Get back.”

She didn’t answer his mental command. Instead, she remained rooted to the spot she was in, feeling more helpless than she’d ever felt in her life. A moment later, Cleo’s mouth went dry as the Dominus sent Dante flying backward and into the trunk of a nearby tree. Before Dante could recover, the Dominus leaped forward to send his sword biting into Dante’s arm. Grunting with pain, Dante countered with a strike of his own, but his sword missed the other man’s chest by a mere inch. As the Dominus jumped out of range of Dante’s weapon, he jerked his head in Cleopatra’s direction.

“Cleopatra, is it?” The Dominus eyed her with cold amusement. A cruel smile slowly curled the man’s lips as he looked back at Dante. “It appears you have a weakness, Sicari.”

Dante didn’t answer the man. He simply threw his sword up into the air, and it whistled toward the Dominus. The Praetorian easily countered the weapon’s hard blows as Dante controlled the sword with his telekinetic ability. The Dominus snarled with anger as he battled Dante’s weapon, giving Dante enough time to throw himself forward in a tight somersault to slam his body into the other fighter’s legs.

Caught by surprise, the Dominus stumbled and fell onto his back. As he hit the ground, the Praetorian’s sword clashed with Dante’s. The force of the Dominus’s blade sent Dante’s sword spinning away until it slammed into the ground, the weapon quivering wildly. Dante was on his feet in a split second, but in a blurring flash of movement, the Dominus arched his back and flipped himself backward and onto his feet.

Cleo swallowed hard as she saw Dante extend his hand for his sword. The weapon barely moved, and panic coiled in her stomach.
Christus
, he’d expended most of his telekinetic energy. Without a second thought, she raced toward the weapon, ignoring Dante’s command to stay back. Her senses heightened, she knew the Dominus was close on her heels.

The moment her hand wrapped around the warm grip of Dante’s sword, she tugged it from the ground. All too aware of the Praetorian heading straight toward her, she threw her body into the air in a horizontal roll that landed her on her feet and facing both men.