Assassin's Honor (33 page)

           
Watching him make his way down that line of Sicari warriors had been agonizing. Not just because he was running the gauntlet for her, but because something else had wrenched at her heart. An emotion she didn't want to accept because it was ludicrous to even consider given the short amount of time they'd known each other.

           
Afterward when the Prima Consul had said he couldn't receive medical attention, she'd known she couldn't let him die. She was willing to do anything to save him, even if it meant bringing the wrath of the entire Sicari Order down on her head. And she couldn't express regret for something she'd do again without hesitation. She closed the distance between them, her hand lightly touching his shoulder, taking care to avoid his injuries.

           
"I'm sorry. I didn't understand the importance of it all." She met his gaze as he turned to face her. "But I don't regret interfering. The thought of you dying . . ."

           
She didn't finish the thought. Losing him would have left her bereft of something she didn't understand yet. Without Ares, there was no one left to turn to. Even Ewan was dead to her because the Sicari had arranged her death. The only person who had any understanding of her was Ares. If he had died last night, she'd have been completely lost.

           
She trusted him to keep her safe. And the idea of having to fend for herself in this strange world of his terrified her. His strength made her stronger. She realized that now. A strong hand captured her chin and turned her face up so she was looking into his eyes. Frustration and something else darkened his gaze, but she saw the beginnings of resigned acceptance there as well.

           
"You seem determined to think the worst when it comes to my early demise."

           
"Self-preservation," she muttered, unwilling to expose the emotions she was feeling.
Particularly if he might use them to manipulate her.
"If you die, where does that leave me?"

           
"Lysander agreed to take on my responsibilities if I didn't survive the gauntlet. He would have looked after you."

           
"Your responsibilities?"
She sucked in a sharp breath and jerked free of his light grasp. "So what happened just now--was that part of your responsibilities, too?"

           
She took two steps back from him as humiliation slashed through her. They'd just shared the most incredible experience and now he was referring to her as one of his responsibilities? God, she was a fool to hope he'd think that passionate interlude was anything more than just sex to him. And the idea that she thought it meant something at all made her sick to her stomach. At least Jonathan hadn't used her in the bedroom like that. He'd simply screwed her to get ahead in his career.

           
"Merda.
That's not what I meant," he growled. "Last night, I wasn't sure whether I'd live or die. It's why I assigned all my responsibilities to Lysander before I entered the gauntlet. I trust him with my own life, and I knew he'd protect you as he does me."

           
Okay, so he obviously cared about her safety. Did that mean that up-against-the-wall moment a little while ago hadn't been just sex for him? She swallowed hard and dismissed the question. She didn't want to know. What she really wanted was some sort of guidebook that told her what to do so she could stay out of trouble in this surreal world of his.

           
"Fine.
So you were just looking out for me. But how do you expect me to stop breaking the rules if you don't tell me what the rules are?" She shook her head in frustration. "I mean, did it ever occur to you that maybe I wouldn't interfere so much if you'd explained things to me before rather than after the fact?"

           
"Yes, it's occurred to me, but there's not been enough time to explain things, has there." It wasn't a question, more of a chastisement.

           
"Well, there's time now," she said firmly and held up her bandaged hand. "So I want you to explain how this blood bond thing works."

           
"How it works?" A strange expression crossed his face as his eyes focused on her hand then shifted to her face.

           
"Yes. I know what it got me--a get-out-of-jail-free card. But what do you get out of the bargain?"

           
"The blood bond is a contract." His roughly carved features turned to granite.
Harsh, striking, and unreadable.
"In exchange for my protection, you're required to serve me for no more than a year."

           
"Excuse me?" She stared up at his impassive expression in amazement. Even worse was the disquieting sensation that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Something wasn't right here. "Exactly what do you mean by serve?"

           
"It means exactly what I said. You're to serve me until your debt is paid." His voice was flat and even.

           
There wasn't one iota of innuendo in his voice, but her blood raced like wildfire through her body just the same. Her imagination immediately presented her with several different possibilities of service. None of which were displeasing, but they definitely didn't help matters where this man was concerned. He was dangerous in far too many ways for her sanity. Even with that unreadable expression on his face, he was still the sexiest man she'd ever seen. And standing there with just a towel wrapped around him, cuts and all, made him look all the more sinful.

           
She struggled to focus on the subject at hand, but realized she was losing. He turned and moved away from her toward the bed. The moment the towel slipped off his solid, muscular hips, her heart slammed into her chest. With a mixture of fascination and pleasure, she simply stared, unable to take her eyes off him.

           
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the towel fold itself neatly in the air then settle on the bed. Her gaze focused fully on taut buttocks and the hard sinews of his legs. When he bent to pull on his trousers, she drew in a quick breath at the raw, naked maleness of him. He was beautiful.
Scars and all.
In seconds, black leather covered his lower extremities, and she released a quiet sigh. The pants were ripped everywhere he'd taken a blow from a sword, but at least he was clothed.

           
She refused to decide whether it was relief or disappointment she was feeling, although she already knew the answer. The moment he turned to face her, she knew he'd heard her sigh. Heat filled her face, but it was the regret in his eyes that chilled her.

           
"You still haven't really clarified what I'm supposed to do when it comes to fulfilling my part of the blood bond," she said quickly in an attempt to break the tension hovering in the air between them.

           
She met his gaze with a steady look. An undefined glint of emotion flickered in his eyes. It made her think he was unsure of something. Her--himself perhaps? Whatever it was, she could tell he didn't like it.

           
"The service generally depends on the individual and the guild's needs. In your case, you're going to help me find the Tyet of Isis."

           
His hard shoulders rolled in a slight shrug, a grimace tightening his mouth at the motion. His injuries would take some time to heal, and she doubted a doctor would stitch him up at this point unless the cut was really deep. But she could tell Phae had healed him enough so that most of his wounds were superficial.

           
"There's something else--" An authoritative knock on the door interrupted him. Frustration darkened his face when he commanded the visitor to enter. His features turned into a fierce scowl as the door slowly opened. She turned her head and met the impassive gaze of the Prima Consul. The woman arched her eyebrows at Ares.

           
"I expected you to be a bit more incapacitated," she murmured dryly. "But at least you're halfway presentable."

           
The Prima Consul turned her attention to Emma. Beneath the woman's penetrating gaze, it was impossible not to feel like a kid caught with one's hand in the cookie jar. Amusement danced in the woman's gray eyes although her regal expression didn't change.

           
"You're a woman of strong character, Miss Zale. There are few people with the audacity to try and intimidate me." She threw Ares a glance of rebuke before returning her attention to Emma. "Yet you didn't hesitate to put me in my place when it came to the well-being of my godson."

           
Her godson.
That explained the affection layered beneath the woman's irritation. Emma winced slightly at the woman's words but didn't try to apologize for her actions the night before. She had no regrets.

           
"I did what was necessary, Ms. . . ."

           
"Atia Vorenus, but you may call me Atia. Yes, you were quite straightforward about it, weren't you?" The Prima Consul's mouth quirked in a small smile as Emma flushed at the memory. The woman laughed softly. "I find it refreshing. You remind me of someone I used to know years ago. He was just as straightforward."

           
There was a wistful note in Atia's voice as she stared at Emma with an odd expression on her face. With a sudden change in demeanor, the Prima Consul turned back to Ares. "Have you explained the terms of the blood bond to Miss Zale?"

           
"Yes," Ares said with sharp nod.

           
"Cryptic as always."
The Prima Consul glared at him in exasperation.

           
"I answered your question. What else would you like me to say, Atia?"

           
"Mater Dei, but you're a stubborn man. You blood bond with an aliena and without the Order's approval, yet you treat the entire affair with no more respect than a Praetorian does his mother."

           
"My actions may have appeared reckless, but they were necessary given the circumstances. Did you expect something less of me?"

           
"No. I didn't." Atia sighed quietly. "Does Miss Zale at least understand the significance of the bond itself? It's obvious she didn't know enough about our laws last night."

           
"She understands that in exchange for my protection, she's to help us find the Tyet of Isis," Ares bit out.

           
The dark look he directed at the Prima Consul seemed to be a silent warning, but if it was, Atia ignored it. Clearly annoyed, the woman looked at Emma then back to Ares.

           
"Well, I hope you've done a better job emphasizing that any interference has serious consequences of the kind we saw last night." Atia blew out a harsh breath so fiercely it sounded like an ancient Latin curse. "I'm tired of listening to the Council rant about your lack of respect for our laws. How in heaven's name do you expect to lead the Order
--
"

           
"Enough." Ares growled. "We've already discussed this, Atia. I have no intention of becoming the Prima Consul. And none of this has any bearing on Emma or her obligation to the Order."

           
"Destinatus diabolus."
In a flamboyant gesture of surrender, the woman waved her hands in the air.
" Molto
bene. But we both know this argument is far from over."

           
Ares frowned darkly, but didn't argue. His expression said this hadn't been their first contentious discussion on the matter nor would it be their last. Atia turned to face Emma and smiled.

           
"So, cara, Ares tells me you have a special gift that will help us learn more about several artifacts we have here at the house. Items that may help lead us to the Tyet of Isis."

           
For a moment, the woman's words left Emma speechless as she stared at the Prima Consul. He'd told her. He'd told his godmother that she could read relics.
Correction.
He'd led the woman to believe she'd be happy to read the artifacts for them. Why would he do that when he'd seen how touching antiquities affected her?

           
Didn't he remember how she'd wound up on the floor of her office from the shock of taking the coin out of his hand. While that incident had been a lot different than her usual flashbacks to the past, he had to have known it wasn't easy for her. Her gaze flew to Ares's unreadable expression.

           
The Tyet of Isis.

           
The bastard wanted the damned thing so bad he was willing to use any means possible to find it. God, she was an idiot. He was using her. When he'd been trying to convince her to come here with him, he'd casually dangled a carrot in front of her. He'd planned this. He knew the possibility of viewing a private Sicari collection of artifacts would excite her. Once she was here, he'd probably assumed it wouldn't take much at all to get her to read the objects. It didn't help to know he was right. But it didn't change anything.