The Shades of Time (25 page)

Feeling the fool, he thrust the basket
toward the woman and muttered, "Your dinner." The words came out
slurred and he was vaguely surprised she didn't turn away given the
state of his foul breath and stink of sweat and sex that permeated
his pores.

Veluria stood as if mesmerized. He said,
"I-I'm s-s-sorry..." and stumbled back still clutching the parcel
of food.

Rousted from her trance at the propect of
Antonio tumbling headlong down the steep flight of steps, Veluria
grabbed his jerkin and pulled him through the door into the
sleeping quarters. The mountain of a man lurched forward and
staggered to the bed. He set the basket down and rested his head
against the bedpost, his body swaying.

Muttering, "Drunk as a skunk," Veluria
rushed to the bed to retrieve the basket before Tonio collapsed on
top of it. She could feel the stabbing pain in his head—he was
broadcasting like a vidfeed set to ear-bleeding volume in her
skull. A migraine. Of earth-shattering proportions, and not the
first he'd ever had, though it might be the worst. She'd had no
idea he suffered from that condition.

She was also too aware of other things
assaulting her senses. Keenly aware. When she'd given in to
curiosity and probed for his whereabouts, she been privy to his
insatiable rutting to the point where she'd nearly succumbed to an
out-of-control orgasm.

She'd felt an odd mixture of
jealously and awe. Jealous that he was fucking someone, not her.
Awed because he had so much ... stamina. That the sex had been
filled with anger and self-loathing hadn't registered right away
but when it finally floated to the surface, waves of guilt and
anxiety nearly consumed her. It had taken all her control to not
rush out to find him, to make him stop. To make him tear
her
clothes off and
impale
her
,
to fill
her
with his seed. Over and over and over...

Gods above, it
had been a long afternoon. An exhausting afternoon. Now this. She
could barely control her reflexes as she approached the Demon.

I can
't let him in. It's too dangerous for
him to know what I know. He has no capacity for this knowledge, no
framework to make sense of it. It would destroy him, drive him
insane.

And me along
with it. I am too close to this. Forgive me, Reverend Mother. I
cannot use my skills. Not on this man. Not now. Not ever.

The Demon
tempts me as have no others. Give me strength, Dearest Mother, for
I must break my heart as well as his. I have no choice.

I love him too
much.

With her nose wrinkling in
disgust, she hissed,
"You stink."

Antonio sneered back, "You have a gift for
the obvious, M'lady."

"
Why are you here?"

Tonio thought
about that—confusion, guilt, and a dozen other emotions flitting
across his stern features. Despite his drunken state, he apparently
did not suffer from performance anxiety given the bulge in the
codpiece. He glanced down at his arousal, the look of consternation
almost funny had the situation—and her struggle for resolve—not
been so vexing.

Bemused he gave
her a pleading look then wiped his face into the characteristic
scowl, eyebrows drawn into a tight line that accentuated the pulse
hammering his temple.

She tapped her foot as if expecting an
answer to her question. She hoped it would distract him, but from
what she wasn't sure. When he simply squeezed his eyes shut against
the pyrotechnics assaulting his optical nerves, she took pity on
him.

"
I can help you with that." He shook his
head, not understanding. "The headache. I can ease the
pain."

Dear Mother, that's exactly what
she should
not
do! But she couldn't allow him to suffer so harshly, not
when she was partially to blame.

"
Antonio, please sit," she said softly,
keeping her tone low and soothing. She knew all too well how the
tiniest sound would take on monumental proportions, ringing like a
klaxon inside the head. Ears, eyes, chest, gut—every system in the
body became compromised and slave to the agony. She prayed she
could get him stabilized enough to avoid the vomiting that was sure
to follow. Instead of the usual swarthy complexion, his face had
paled to a translucent, waxy quality.

Not for the
first time she wondered how a man with such rough features could be
even remotely handsome, yet he was—his dark eyes limned with heavy
lashes, the severe cut to his cheekbones, the square jaw softened
by the black stubble and a jagged thin scar running from his chin
almost to his left ear. Straight dark brown hair hung loose about
his face. She longed to brush it aside so she could observe his
features more closely. She had a need to study every plane, every
imperfection—to commit each one to memory.

Shaking herself free of her fanciful
musings, Veluria took Antonio's arm and gently backed him to the
bed, forcing him to sit. The movement caused a grunt of pain and
another grimace. She was surprised he permitted her to see him so
vulnerable. The Demon de' Medici she'd first met would never have
allowed her such intimacy.

Tonio inhaled a sharp breath and braced
his arms against the comforter. "I need to go," he hissed but made
no move to do so.

She suspected he was past the point of
having conscious control over his body. The migraine had him in its
clutches and would not so easily be banished by sheer force of
will. That he still tried was impressive enough.

"
Hush. Stay where you are."

She gently nudged his thighs
apart, the action causing the wool codpiece to tighten across his
erection, though he seemed not to notice. She blushed to
think
she
did. His arousal should be the least of her concerns yet it
seemed to hold her undivided attention.

She quickly
loosened the ties on the jerkin and slipped it off his shoulders.
With effort he lifted one hand, then the other off the bed so she
could slide the vest out of the way. The room was stuffy and warm,
the upper floor still retaining the heat of the day. His brow and
upper lip were beaded with sweat. She needed to cool him off.

He complained, "The light..."

"
Yes, I know, but I need to see what I'm
doing." She paused and pulled his shirt free and tugged it over his
head. "You're too hot. This will help."

Even though he was sitting on the bed, the
man was so massive he still towered over her. She gazed with
admiration at the broad chest sprinkled with dark hair lightly
peppered with gray. For some reason she'd never given thought to
his age. Cosimo was in his sixties, though still virile. That would
put Antonio in his mid-to-late thirties. In that time, no longer
considered a young man. But he had the build of a Greek god with
rock hard abs and bulges and grooves that begged for her tongue to
explore...

Oh my dear
sweet Lord.

She felt the probe before she saw the
slight smile, a lopsided uptick to his lip. Through gritted teeth
he asked, "Do you like what you see?"

"
No."
Most definitely yes.
"Just be still and keep your eyes closed.
I'm going to massage your temples, neck and shoulders."

As she worked
efficiently across all his chi points, she could see him visibly
relax into her hands. Without suitable pharmaceuticals, or use of
her powers, the best she could do was alleviate some of the worst
of the discomfort. If he could sleep without the interruption of
pain, his body would take care of the rest.

Tonio gave a grunt of pain as she applied
her thumbs to pressure points inflamed and ultra-sensitive to
touch. She'd bypassed the bits about how much it might hurt to make
it better. She was no empath but even so she could feel the tension
flowing through her fingers to dissipate harmlessly through her
system.

She would take
it all from him if she could.

Antonio felt
the first flush of relief followed by a biting sting, like someone
rammed a stiletto through his eyeball, again and again.

Caro Gesù
dolce, she is killing me!

Without thinking he grasped her
waist and held on for dear life, fighting through the pain.
Somehow, without using her powers, she drew the noxious
vapors from his body
into her own. How she could bear the vile stranglehold on her
system, he had no idea. He knew her to be strong, but this ... this
was unexpected.

Why would she do this thing for him? She
knew him for the loathsome creature he was—a hideous parody of
humanity, without a soul, beyond redemption. She'd taken his
measure and found him wanting. Yet still, she did this act of
mercy.

Would she have
done this kindness had she known about his betrayal, his mindless
fucking of the whore? But what was there to betray? They were not
bonded, he had no claim to her, she had none to him. Not now.

With a perversion borne of his pain and
the ache in his heart, he opened to her, flooding her senses with
his lust as he loosed his seed countless times, replacing the image
of the coarse whore with Veluria's fragile form.

She tensed and choked out, "Stop it,
Tonio, stop!"

Her tiny hands
gripped his neck, but were too small to circle it. Instead she
pressed both thumbs against his windpipe, cutting off his air. He
could have thrown her across the room, but the pressure, the denial
of air to his starved lungs, made his cock tighten, so hard it
turned painful. Hips thrusting he forced the rough fabric to rub
seductively along its swollen length. He was close, so very
close.

"
Stefano, stop!" She moaned, then dropped
her hands and backed away, eyes bright with tears.

Fuck fuck fuck.
What have I done?

Veluria was
backing to the door, confusion and despair turning her beautiful
face into a picture of agony he would not soon forget. Before she
could turn and bolt, he stumbled toward her, his head splitting in
two. He must not allow her to leave, he had to explain his
feelings, he had to say the words.

Gathering Veluria close, he murmured, "I
am not Stefano. I will never hurt you." He rubbed a cheek against
her blue-black hair, leaving a streak of moisture.

Dear God, what
is this? Am I crying?

He
'd never cried in his entire life. He had
to convince her that he meant her no harm, that he would protect
her with his life. He would not ask for her affections in return
for he was unworthy, but she must know this one thing in his
heart.

Antonio tilted Veluria's chin so that he
could look into the fathomless depths of her soul, opening himself
completely.

Veluria protested, "Tonio, no, don't do
this! It's too dangerous."

Dangerous? She
had no idea.

He held her by
the shoulders in a death grip, pouring all his power into her
terrified eyes, until he stood naked, completely exposed. Releasing
her he backed toward the bed, leaving her fragile body to sway
unsteadily.

Fists clasping and unclasping, he
struggled to find the words that would send her away, that would
confine him for all eternity to a shadow existence. He'd once
accepted being condemned to a lifetime of being alone. That seemed
a small sacrifice now. For her he would be willing to endure hell
itself.

With a heavy heart he said quietly, "I
love you." Turning away, he spoke the words waiting to rip him
asunder, "You are free to go."

"
No."

Spinning to face her, unsure he'd heard it
correctly, he sputtered, "Wha—?"

Shrugging,
Veluria gave him a weak smile. With blood pounding in his veins so
hard he heard nothing but hope, saw nothing but desire, breathed
nothing but her scent of honey and lavender.

With a whisper she sealed their fates
forever, "I love you too."

Chapter
Eighteen

Andreas
twitched as the electrodes pulsed with healing energy.

"Sit still,
man. You're not helping." The medic glared and returned to
twiddling knobs and consulting the machine's readouts.

That was easier
said than done. After the shamans pronounced him unfit for duty,
he'd been confined to headquarters for 'debriefing'. More like the
Spanish Inquisition, sans robes and religious fervor.

"That's all for
today, Marcus." The voice came from the private elevator located at
the rear of the boardroom. "Let the tissue heal of its own
accord."

"But, Your
Holiness…" the medic objected, but hastily reconsidered when the
prelate entered the room, his face set in a harsh frown. With
alacrity, he removed the electrodes—leaving sticky residue on
Andreas ankle—and packed away the leads and instrument
detritus.

Neither Andreas
nor Matteo heard the medic leave.

"So, Andreas,
are you ready to tell me about this cock-up of yours?"

"Not really,"
Andreas muttered, "but I guess I'm not getting a choice, am I?"

"Better me than
the full Council, boy." The tall man indicated that Andreas join
him at the seating area near the broad expanse of plexiglass
overlooking the city. He watched his acolyte limp painfully,
concern briefly replacing the scowl.