For the moment, he would do as she asked, just as Firmani would. He had no doubt the Celeris would do what he could to steal Atia from him, but he wasn't going to let that happen. His thoughts were still on Atia as he examined the high-tech security lock on the steel lockbox that held the parchment he knew the Praetorians wanted desperately. As he looked around the room, he began to itemize the extra precautions that could be taken to protect the valuable document.

Several hours later, all of Marcus's ideas were close to completion as the Vigilavi security expert on staff directed the placement of the last security camera that would give the control room a continuous view of the research lab. Sometime in the next week, new steel doors would be installed that could be locked remotely to prevent anyone trying to steal the Tyet of Isis document from escaping.

Satisfied the artifact was far more secure than it had been before the murder, he left the lab and headed to Atia's suite. Pasquale had returned to the lab a short time ago and informed him that the Prima Consul had spent more than three hours fielding questions from the Council, or more specifically, Cato.

That the Council member had named Marcus as a possible suspect didn't surprise him. He was a new arrival and not above suspicion. And while the worm's audacious suggestion that Atia might also be the murderer wasn't surprising, it infuriated him. Pasquale's report had simply made him hunger for the chance to reduce the Council member to a quivering mass of fear.

It would be a mistake to do anything, though. Atia wouldn't tolerate any interference in her affairs, even if it was to her benefit. As he came to a halt in front of Atia's rooms, he started to knock then changed his mind. She was his wife, and he had every right to enter. The door opened quietly, and as he entered the main living area, it was as if he'd stepped back in time.

The room was almost a replica of the living room they'd had at Rennes-le-Chteau when they were first blood bonded. He moved deeper into the space, absently using his ability to close the door behind him.

Pictures on an end table caught his eye, and one of the framed photographs floated up off the table into his hand. It was a picture of him and Gabriel, taken shortly before the kidnapping. His throat swelled shut as grief welled up inside him. If only he'd taken Atia and Gabriel with him to the Absconditus that week.

"What are you doing here, Marcus?" Atia's voice was like a cool breeze on the back of his neck.

Her tone said his presence had caught her by surprise and she wasn't happy about it. He slowly turned to face her. Her rumpled clothing and tousled hair made him think she'd just gotten up from a nap. She looked as though the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders. But it was the bleak sadness in her gray eyes that tugged at him.

The force of her grief hammered away at his mind, the intensity of it as sharp as a finely honed blade. It made him want to pull her into his arms for the second time today.

"I came to check on you," he said quietly. "Pasquale said the Council meeting was rather contentious this afternoon."

"Perhaps a little more than usual, but nothing I couldn't handle." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Cato is a bastardo. He enjoys making things difficult."

"When was the last time you ate?" His question made her frown.

"I don't remember," she said with a slight shrug. "Last night, I suppose."

"Christus," he muttered. "You never did know how to take care of yourself."

Without asking her permission, he strode down a short hallway to the small kitchen that was in every one of the larger suites on the estate. If he was going to succeed in winning her back, he needed to woo her. He'd start with a little wine and some home cooking. She'd always enjoyed the meals he used to fix for them.

The refrigerator wasn't bare, but the contents left a lot to be desired. He pulled out a brick of Fontina cheese, along with fresh salad ingredients. As he searched the cabinet for some pasta, Atia came into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing you something to eat." He pulled a box of fettuccine from the cabinet and placed it on the counter next to the stove.

"That's not necessary. I can easily order something from the main kitchen."

"And pass up the opportunity to mock my cooking?" His attempt at brevity was rewarded with a slight smile from her.

"I never made fun of your cooking," she said with a shake of her head.

"Yes, you did." He quickly filled a pot with water and set it on the burner to boil.

"No, what I poked fun at was your singing."

"Singing and cooking are part of being Sicari," he grumbled.

"Yes, but only when you can actually sing," she said with a laugh.

Her laughter was a beautiful sound, and he grinned at her while unwrapping the block of Fontina cheese. With a knife he'd found in one of the drawers, he started to shave pieces off the solid white block. As the slivers of cheese piled up on the cutting board, he began to hum "La Donna e Mobile."

"If you insist on singing, I'm going to have a drink."

"So now I'm driving you to drink?" he said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, your singing is."

"I was humming." He eyed her with amusement at the way she shook her head.

"The problem is you never just hum," she said in a wry voice as she pulled a bottle of Galluccio wine from the rack sitting at one end of the counter.

She neatly pulled the cork from the bottle with a corkscrew as Marcus continued to shave the cheese. The water had started to boil, and she moved around him to drop the fettuccine into the hot water.

His body grew tight at her close proximity, and his cock was hard in an instant. What little concentration he had remaining vanished as the soft scent of her perfume feathered its way into his nose when she accidentally bumped into him. A second later, the knife slipped and nicked his finger.

"Fotte."

"Deus, Marcus, I'm so sorry," she gasped in dismay.

Moving quickly, she grabbed a nearby towel and ran it under cold water before she returned to his side. Gently, she took his hand in hers and dabbed at the cut. All thought of the annoying injury to his finger fled him as he drank in the sweet essence of her. Jupiter's Stone. He'd always remembered her scent, but the memory had never been this sharp and enticing. This was like being drunk on a heady wine. Even after all these years, she had the ability to make him ready to rut like a bull. He bit down on the inside of his cheek as he dragged in a ragged breath.

"It's a scrape. Just leave it be, Atia," he growled as he pulled his hand away from her. She glared up at him and grasped his hand more firmly.

"Let me look at it. You might need a healer."

"It's a small cut. I don't need a healer." He needed her. Every part of him was on fire, and if she wouldn't let him put some distance between them, he wasn't going to be held responsible for what happened.

"Damn it, Marcus. Why do you have to be so hardheaded?" she snapped and pulled his hand back toward her.

"And why don't you ever listen?"

His voice was tight with need as he swept the counter clean with one simple thought then lifted her up onto the flat surface with another mental command. The lovely curve of her mouth formed a small O as she gasped with astonishment.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" he rasped and leaned into her. "I'm showing my wife that I find her as beautiful and sexy today as I did the first time we met."

"This is ridiculous," she said as her fingers splayed across his chest. "We're too old to be acting like teenagers."

"Old?" he growled. "Does this feel like an old man?"

His hands moved her legs apart and jerked her forward until she was pressed into his hard erection. Her eyes widened with surprise, and he was certain there was a hint of desire flashing there as well.

"Marcus, please." She sucked in a sharp breath as he pulled her closer so she was snug against his cock.

"I'm more than ready to please you, carissima." His suggestive comment made her blush, and she shook her head with a hint of shocked surprise.

"We aren't young anymore, Marcus. And here on the counter . . . it's . . . it's hedonistic and unlike you." The scandalized note in her voice faded into obvious confusion. He liked seeing her off balance, but he didn't like her implied observation that he was incapable of doing something spontaneous.

"I'm fifty-six, Atia. I'd hardly call that ready for the funeral pyre," he growled. "As for unconventional, what are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything. It's just-"

"Then forget you're the Prima Consul and let me pleasure you, because right now, all I can think about is sliding in and out of you until we're both satisfied."

She gasped softly, the pink color in her cheeks darkening. He stared at her for a long moment, expecting her to say something, but she appeared too disconcerted. Christus, she was beautiful. When they'd first met, she'd been lovely, but then the sharply defined curves of her face had reflected an innocence they'd both lost over the years. Now, there was a soft roundness to her visage that hadn't been there more than thirty years ago.

It only heightened her beauty, making him wish he'd not missed all those years that had changed her. Changed him. He reached out with one finger to lightly trace the line of her throat down to the vee of her blouse. The way her breathing quickened made him smile. If there was one thing that hadn't changed between them, it was the sex.

They'd always been good together in bed, and if he could use that to make her see how much he loved her, had always loved her, then he would. He'd do anything to get her back. Her throat bobbed nervously beneath his finger. His gaze met hers, and this time he could plainly see the desire in her eyes.

The instant he mentally reached out to undo the top button of her shirt she inhaled a sharp breath. The sound made his body tighten with excitement. His gaze never left her face as he slowly used his ability to undo one button after another all the way down the front of her blouse. As her shirt flared open, he stared at the sculpted bra holding her breasts.

He'd always loved her breasts. He ached to remove the barrier between his mouth and the stiff nipple he could see through the material covering her. No, not yet. That could wait. He needed to let her know it wasn't just her body he wanted. He wanted much more than that.

Slowly, he leaned forward and breathed in her perfume. It was different than what he remembered in their youth. This scent was more subtle. Richer. Mature. He recognized it as the fragrance of a woman, not the girl he'd blood bonded with. Mixed in with the soft scent was something else. Desire. The slight hint of musk that said she wanted him.

He swallowed hard. She might want him, but did she still love him? He pushed the thought aside. He refused to believe she had ever stopped. Love had never been the problem. It had been Gabriel's kidnapping and the way she'd retreated from him afterward that had broken them apart. The hunt for their son and his duties as the reigning Sicari Lord had only widened the gap between them. He trailed his fingers down to the valley between her breasts, his breathing almost as erratic as hers.

"I've missed you, mea kara. For years, night after night, I've dreamed of lying beside you. Holding you. Loving you," he said softly. "And every morning I'd awake alone."

Cupping her cheek with his hand, he rubbed his thumb over her mouth. A breathless sigh brushed past her lips as her gray eyes darkened.

"I've missed you, too," she whispered. It was a small concession, but at the moment, he'd take whatever she would give him. His hands slipped inside her open shirt to caress the smooth skin of her waist as he leaned forward and brushed his mouth across hers.

As if a dam had broken inside her, she suddenly cradled his face in her hands and kissed him with an intensity that was enough to drive him mad. The taste of her reminded him of the peaches she loved to eat. Her lips parted beneath his, and his tongue swept into the inner warmth of her mouth to taste the sweet fire of her. A shudder shook him as her tongue danced with his.

Jupiter's Stone. He'd forgotten the power her kiss had always held over him. A mindless craving for her made him blindly pull her deeper into his chest. The result was her wiggling against him in a way that made his blood burn through his veins.

Heat streaked over his skin and found its way to his groin, where his erection hardened to a painful ache. Christus, he wasn't going to be able to take this slowly like he'd intended. The woman had always pushed him over the edge, and now wasn't any different. Another shudder wracked his body as her hand rubbed over his cock through his trousers.

At the touch, he lost his self-control. His hands left her waist to skim the waistband of her slacks. With blinding speed, he lifted her up off the counter and her pants slipped past her bare feet to hit the floor. She murmured a slight protest, but he easily silenced her as he returned her to a sitting position and sought the white-hot silk of her mouth.

Her response was passionate and intense. It aroused him to a frenzied state as her fingers freed his erection from his pants. Pleasure exploded through him as she gripped him then slid her thumb over the tip of him, smearing the first drops of his cum over his skin. He growled with need as he craved something more around his cock than her hand.

Roughly, he ripped her panties at the sides. The fragile material easily gave way beneath his strength, and his mouth swallowed her small cry of pleasure as he slipped two fingers inside her. Hot cream coated his fingers, and he almost spilled his seed at how tight she was. Christus, the minute he embedded himself inside her, he might not be able to keep from coming right then and there.

He lifted his head to stare down at her, and triumph surged through him at the desire on her face. She murmured a protest and thrust her hips forward in a silent demand for him to continue stroking her. He had no doubt she wanted him, but he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to know that even after all these years, she still cared for him.

"Tell me what I want to hear, carissima," he rasped. A small mewl of need broke past her lips, and she shook her head.

"Marcus, please," she begged as he retreated from her slightly, her hands clutching at his shirt.

"Tell me you love me, Atia. Say it." He met her gaze, and the second he saw her hesitate, a vise wrapped painfully around his chest. Sweet mother of Juno. What if he was wrong about her? Worse, what would he do if she no longer loved him?

Chapter 10.

ATIA froze at Marcus's command to confess her soul. It had been a long time since he'd demanded such a sacrifice. Did she have the strength to risk her heart a second time with him?

"Tell me, Atia. I want to hear you say it," he growled.

He widened the space between them a bit more, and her body, as well as her heart, cried out a protest. Even though she knew deep down there was little hope for them, it was useless to lie about her feelings. If she denied them, he'd know she was lying "I love you," she whispered. "I've always loved you."

The sharp intake of his breath betrayed how uncertain he'd been of her answer. It was a startling revelation, but she forgot it the instant he closed the space between them and kissed her. As his tongue tangled with hers in a passionate frenzy, her heart skipped a beat and then another.

She'd forgotten how wonderful his touch could make her feel. He tasted like hot spice and everything deliciously male. The harsh, masculine heat of his mouth slid from her lips to blaze a path down to the base of her throat. The sharp scent of men's soap brushed across her senses.

Despite this impetuous moment, there were some things about him that had remained unchanged over the years. She experienced a sudden longing to feel the hard muscles of his chest between her fingers, and she tugged his shirt out of his pants to push it upward.

He briefly broke off their kiss to pull the long-sleeved turtleneck over his head. As he tossed it aside, she reached out to touch him. Against her fingers, his muscles were as hard now as they'd been the first time she'd touched him. The only difference was the fine dusting of silvery hair diving downward toward his trousers.

Her mouth went dry at the way she longed to see every part of him bared to her. Slowly, she explored his chest, her gaze drinking in the majestic sight. Her touch extracted a dark growl from him as he bent his head to kiss the side of her neck.

As her fingers spiked through the silky roughness of his hair and cupped the back of his neck, his invisible touch caressed her skin and unsnapped her bra. A fraction of a second later his mouth encircled the tip of her breast. Sweet Juno, how was it possible his touch could affect her so easily after all these years? She moaned as his tongue circled her nipple before his teeth abraded the stiff peak. Every inch of her was on fire, and the time they'd been apart faded away.

The intensity of his caresses stirred something deep inside. Not since that bittersweet night at La Terrazza del Ninfeo had she felt so alive. It wasn't until this moment that she realized she'd been doing little more than existing. She'd never stopped longing for him. Never stopped hungering for his touch.

The warmth of his hands slid under her bottom and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. In the next breath, he thrust deep into her, and her head fell backward as she uttered a cry of pleasure. The heat of his mouth brushed over her throat, leaving her breathless as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her. Deus, it was as good between them now as it had been the first time.

Her body clenched around him with every stroke, and she loved the way his strong arm cradled her as he rocked his hips against hers. Every inch of her was alive with sensation. She wasn't a girl anymore, but her body was responding to his touch as if she were thirty years younger.

Eyes closed, she reveled in the sinewy feel of his body as the friction of his hard length sent first one and then another tremor rocking its way through her. His body hardened against hers as he lifted his head to stare down at her.

"You're mine, Atia," he rasped. "You belong to me and no one else."

The raw, possessive nature of his words sent a thrill through her as she stared into blue eyes blazing with desire. The passion in his gaze was for her and her alone, and his look made her heart beat faster. She barely had time to breathe before his body was furiously pumping into hers. Hard and fast, he pulled her with him along a wave of pleasure.

Blind to everything but the way her body responded to his, she cried out his name as the wave crested. A dark roar echoed out of him, and he throbbed violently inside her, while her body clutched at his with equal strength. Time seemed to stand still until the world slowly righted itself as Marcus rested his forehead against hers. His breathing ragged, he shuddered as she reached up to touch his cheek.

"Thank you, mea amor," he whispered.

"I enjoyed it, too," she said as she sought his mouth to kiss him gently. "Although I still say we're too old to be acting this way."

"Sweet Juno, carissima." He choked out a laugh. "I think we just proved less than a minute ago that we're far from old," he teased as his gaze scanned the kitchen before dropping down to where they were still joined. Heat filled her cheeks.

"You didn't give me much choice, did you?" Despite her attempt to scold him, the breathless note in her voice destroyed the effect.

"Where we're concerned, I don't plan to give you much of a choice at all."

The relentless tone to his statement sent a shiver down her spine. As he pulled away from her, the sensation of loss only heightened the dismay winding its way through her. Time and events had placed a barrier between them, and she wasn't sure they could overcome it. Worried he would sense her sudden tension, she hopped off the counter to pick up her pants. Strong hands caressed her bottom as she bent over.