As they started walking back toward the stairs, Dante's hand accidentally brushed against Cleopatra's. His throat immediately closed up at the sensations barreling through him, and his walk became rigid as they proceeded down the hallway.

"Several of the children in the room were pretty young," Cleopatra murmured. "At what age does a child start the Novem Conformavi ?"

"Somewhere between the ages of five and six." At his statement, she came to an abrupt halt and stared at him in horror.

"You can't be serious."

"I was five when I started the Novem Conformavi. To complete all nine levels usually takes anywhere from twenty to twenty-five years." At his words, she gasped.

"Five. That's so young. Not even the Order trains anyone before the age of nine."

"The Novem Conformavi is more than a training program. It teaches the art of self-defense and how to use our abilities. It's a way of life. A commitment," he said in a harsh tone as he remembered his oath.

"But five?" She shook her head in dismay. "It's so young. Don't their parents object?"

"With the exception of two, all of the children in that room today were orphans."

"All of them?" she whispered as she looked up at him.

The color drained from Cleopatra's beautiful face, and a haunted expression swept across her features. The heartache in her violet eyes was intense, and it tugged at his heart. A sharp pang stabbed at his thoughts, and in the next instant, her emotions engulfed his senses in a way he'd never experienced with anyone before.

It was as if their thoughts had merged to become one. The connection he'd experienced with her before had been nothing compared to this. This was a tangible and real force barreling through him. He wasn't simply aware of her pain-he experienced it. The image of a Praetorian blade biting into her stomach, killing her unborn child, made his body burn with excruciating agony. Christus, how long had she been living with this anguish? He dragged her into his arms in a hopeless attempt to absorb all her pain into his body and ease her suffering. Her torment was his, and it was a raw wound that dug as deep into his soul as hers.

"The bastardi," he rasped softly as images from her past continued to flash through his head.

Gently stroking her hair, he held her tight as she trembled in his arms. The violence of her tremors made his heart ache for her. It was bad enough she'd lost her baby, but to lose her ability to have another child made it even more tragic and heartbreaking. Images flowed fast between them, and the image of a man walking away from her made him tighten his embrace. Someone had deserted her. His jaw hardened with anger at the thought as he waited for her shudders to end.

After several minutes, her trembling subsided, and like an outgoing tide, her emotions receded from him as well. When she retreated from his arms, it was as if his lungs had been deprived of precious air. His reaction set off an alarm in the deep recesses of his mind, but he ignored it. All he cared about at the moment was easing her suffering if he could. He framed her lovely face with his hands and stared down at her.

This wasn't the same woman he'd met in a dark alleyway who'd defeated two Praetorians single-handedly. Violet eyes wide with anguish revealed a fragile, vulnerable woman. It stirred something to life deep inside him. The fierce protective emotion swelling inside him set off more alarms that he paid no heed to. He could deal with the aftermath later. All he could think of at the moment was to do everything in his power to keep her safe from anything and anyone who might hurt her.

She pulled free of his grasp and turned her head away from him. He watched her swallow hard as she fought to collect herself. The fact that she hadn't cried troubled him. It wasn't healthy to keep so much pain and suffering locked up inside her. As she looked at him, a shuttered expression crossed her features in her attempt to hide her pain from him. It was too late for that.

"How . . . ? You know what happened."

There was a self-conscious note of resignation in her voice that made him clench his jaw. What sort of an explanation could he give her for what had just happened? He'd not probed her thoughts, but the strength of the connection between them had made him cognizant of not just her thoughts, but the physical pain of her past.

"Yes. I saw everything," he said with a nod. He swallowed hard, uncertain what else to say to her. Saying he was sorry seemed completely inadequate for what she'd lost.

"But you didn't . . . you didn't probe my thoughts," she said in obvious confusion.

"No." He shook his head, knowing he had no solid explanation for what had happened. "I think yours connected with mine."

"That's impossible," she rasped. "I don't have any Sicari abilities."

"Anything is possible, Cleopatra, and it's the only explanation I can come up with. It could be your abilities were latent until now." He didn't mention that it wasn't the first time he'd been able to see her thoughts.

She turned her face away from him, clearly struggling to make sense of what had just happened between them. He reached out to touch her shoulder, and she jerked her head around to meet his gaze. Pain had darkened her lovely features once more, and he fought the urge to pull her back into his arms. As if suddenly realizing she was revealing more than she wanted to, her expression went blank.

"Pietro? What about his parents?" she choked out in a clear effort to turn the conversation away from her. Again he was consumed with the need to hold her until her pain was gone. The dangerous waters he'd been treading sent a wave crashing over him until he was certain he was close to drowning. In a desperate bid to maintain his self-control, he immediately closed himself off to everything except answering her question.

"I rescued Pietro from a breeding facility more than six years ago in the nursery. He was only a few hours old, and his mother and sister were dead in the room next door."

"The bastardi," she bit out fiercely.

Her eyes flashed with fury, but even if he hadn't seen the outrage in her expression, he could sense it-experience it. It was clear they were still closely connected in some way. Worried he might show her something terrible, he suppressed images of the last Praetorian breeding facility he'd entered. The slaughter of innocent babes simply because they were female wasn't something he wanted her to experience if their connection was still strong enough for her to see what was in his thoughts.

Cleopatra met his gaze for a moment before she turned and headed down the corridor. Dante caught up with her in two strides. His instincts said she didn't want to talk, so he simply walked alongside her in silence. Slowly, the tension in Cleopatra ebbed away.

As they wound their way silently through the hallways of the complex toward her apartments, their unhurried walk enabled both of them to regain a calm frame of mind. The connection he'd felt between them was still present, but it was little more than a whisper brushing against his senses.

That they were still connected didn't surprise him. It would explain why he'd been able to read her thoughts so easily even when he'd tried to block them out. It wasn't until they were outside her apartment that he realized he should have gone in the opposite direction five minutes ago. As they came to a halt in front of her door, he cleared his throat as uncertainty twisted its way through his body.

She seemed in complete control, but beneath the surface he sensed a stark emotion that troubled him. It made him reluctant to leave her alone, and he didn't like how awkward he felt. His desire to protect her hadn't faded. If anything, it was stronger than when he'd experienced all her pain. He cleared his throat as he tried to think of a way to exit gracefully. Fortunately, she solved the problem for him.

"Cornelia said there was a workout room where I could exercise?"

Her voice was devoid of emotion, but an image of a training room flashed in his head. He flinched at the vision of her grueling workout. She punished herself for something that wasn't her fault. Instinct guided him to reach out and cup her chin. The moment he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hand and clenched his fist at his side. She studied him in silence, waiting for his reply, and his body was suddenly on fire with an emotion he didn't understand.

"It's in the northeast part of the complex," he rasped. "The way the buildings are connected over the city blocks can make it confusing if you've not been there before. I'll have someone come show you the way."

"All right," she said with a nod. Her mouth parted slightly as if she were going to say something else, but then she just gave a slight shake of her head. "I'll see you at supper, then."

As she started to close her door, he remembered that he should tell her the evening meal was always formal. Placido had begun the tradition. The ancient Sicari Lord had said that one's appreciation for civility and the arts was the difference between a civilized culture and a barbaric one. His palm smacked against the door to keep it open, and he caught her by the elbow. It was a mistake to touch her.

The instant he did so, a shock of electricity streaked up his arm into his chest. As powerful as a lightning bolt, the sensation made him freeze. His hand still wrapped around Cleopatra's arm, he stared down at her. The startled look on her face gave way to an expression that made his blood run hot with desire. It was an emotion he knew he should suppress, but he wasn't sure how to control it.

Need blazed in her violet eyes, holding him rapt and unable to retreat as she leaned into him. Impulsively, he lowered his head slightly to breathe in the scent of her hair. Last night she'd smelled of sweet soap, but today it was a citrus-based aroma. Not that it mattered. Everything about her was delicious.

Worse, her sweet scent was making his body respond on a base level, and he was already hard inside his trousers. Mere inches separated them as she tipped her head back to look up at him. Christus, he had to put distance between them. Now. But something strange, unrecognizable, was quickly taking control of his body. She brushed her fingertips over his mouth. The touch ignited a new barrage of emotions inside him until a base sensation drove every clear thought from his head.

"Has any woman ever told you what a beautiful mouth you have?" she murmured in a voice soft with what sounded like a sense of wonder.

The husky tone in her voice echoed with sweet seduction as her words caressed his senses until fire streaked through his veins, warming every part of him. Stark hunger warred with his conscience as he stared down at her. He wasn't being honest with her. He already had one mistress. As her fingers traced the outline of his lips, her violet eyes studied him intently. It was almost as if she could see straight into his heart and the battle he was fighting inside.

"Cleopatra-"

"Sweet Vesta, don't you know when a woman wants you to kiss her?" she whispered.

Her hands cupped his face to gently pull his head downward. Panic and confusion surged through him as he tried to maintain his sanity, but in the next instant her mouth was against his. She tasted like cool spring water against his parched mouth. Fresh and ever so sweet.

A shudder swept through him as his hands gently grasped her waist. Somewhere off in the distance he heard the sound of a door shutting before he was caught up in the taste, scent, and feel of her. From the honeyed taste of her lips to the way her pulse fluttered beneath his hand when he caressed the smooth softness of her throat, she filled every one of his senses like a potent drug.

A soft mewl whispered out of her, and his cock jumped at the sound. By the gods, not even Jupiter himself would be able to resist her. Fear lanced through him at the thought. If the most powerful of the gods wouldn't have the strength to withstand her, how could he? It wasn't a question of how.

It was a question of whether he wanted to resist. Sanity seemed on the verge of returning when she gently nipped at his lower lip. He immediately drew in a sharp breath then stiffened as her tongue darted into his mouth. The heated intimacy of the kiss startled him for only an instant before his senses exploded with pleasure.

Tentatively, his tongue mated with hers in a gentle exploration of her mouth, making him hungry for more. Her tongue swirled around his as she teased and tempted him to respond until she was pulling him into a whirlpool of sensation that threatened to undo him completely.

As she pressed her body into his, she nestled herself against the hard thickness of his cock. He jerked at the sensations slamming into every one of his muscles when she rubbed her body across his erection. The emotions vibrating off her were hot and fiery. Need pulled at him, and he shuddered as images began to flow through his head.

He wasn't sure where her thoughts ended and his began, but all of them sent him reeling. Images of his mouth exploring every inch of her, his hands caressing a firm, supple thigh. Something unknown tugged at him, and he trembled with a hunger he didn't understand as her mouth left his and slid across his cheek then down the side of his neck.

Along the way, she nipped at him with her teeth, which pulled a low groan out of him. His heart thundered in his ears as his fingers found her silky skin beneath her sweater. The moment he touched her, she leaned back and quickly removed her shirt. The sight of her full breasts encased in lace made him suck in a sharp breath. A second later, the lace disappeared, and he stopped breathing altogether.

He swallowed hard and stretched out his hand to trace his fingers along the tops of her breasts before he cupped one to stare in wonder at the beautiful, lush curve of her resting in his palm. The pebbled surface of her mauve-colored areola surrounded a stiff peak, silently enticing him to touch her.

Fascinated, he brushed his thumb over her nipple. The low moan that echoed out of her throat made his cock grow so tight and hard it ached. But it was a pleasurable sensation. The pad of his thumb rubbed over her again, causing her to whimper. She arched her back so her breast thrust higher. If he bent his head, he could take her in his mouth.

Warning shouts echoed in the back of his mind, but he barely heard them as he lowered his head and kissed the top of her breast. She moaned again. The sound made him relax slightly. Even if he didn't know what he was doing, he was obviously doing something right. The thought was like a stumbling block, and he stiffened. He shouldn't be here. His internal protests went the way of the wind as the tip of her breast brushed across his lips.

"Deus, suck on me," she pleaded in a rough whisper.

Operating strictly on instinct, he tentatively took her into his mouth and suckled her. Soft and fragrant, her scent filled his nostrils. Somehow it made her taste even better. Savoring her sweetness, he circled her nipple with a hesitant stroke of his tongue.

The gentle sigh that passed her lips made him bolder, and he sucked a little harder on her. She encouraged him by placing his free hand on her other breast. While his fingers explored one breast, his mouth caressed the other. When his teeth accidentally abraded her stiff peak, he stiffened in fear that he'd hurt her.

Instead, she gasped sharply in a small cry of what he was certain was delight. Heat, confusion, pleasure, and insanity closed around him like Praetorians ready to destroy him. He was hovering on the brink when an intoxicating image flooded his head. He didn't know if the erotic vision was his or hers, but it was raw and visceral.

The mental image of his body pinning her to the wall, her long legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded his body into hers, flooded his head. It was like hitting a brick wall. He jerked free of her in a vicious, sharp move. The bewilderment on her face made him draw in a deep breath then release it.

Jupiter's Stone. What the fuck was he doing? The moment of panic he'd experienced seconds before became a full-blown attack as he struggled to breathe. How could he have lost control of his senses so easily? He ran a shaky hand through his hair and struggled to regain his voice. Hands on her hips, Cleopatra eyed him with confusion. Naked from the waist up, her stance epitomized the essence of her. Confident and bold. It made her all the more beautiful, and Dante's body protested viciously as he took a step backward.

"What's wrong?" she said in a quiet voice filled with puzzlement.

"Forgive me, I shouldn't have . . . I lost my head." Dante stumbled over his words as he looked away from her and took another stumbling step backward. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? That he wanted her but couldn't have her?

That he wanted her so much he was willing to break his oath?

The thought made his midsection ache as if he'd taken a kick to the stomach. In the back of his mind, he heard Placido's voice telling him he would have to make a choice where Cleopatra was concerned. Was this the choice? The second his gaze locked with hers, another wave of panic crested over him. He couldn't make a decision. Didn't want to choose. He wanted his cake and he wanted to eat it, too. The realization scared the hell out of him.

"Lost your head?" she snapped. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means . . . I just meant to tell you . . . we dress formally for the evening meal," he choked out with a cough. "I . . . Forgive me. There are matters I need to attend to."

Her slack-jawed expression made his gut twist with regret and embarrassment as he whirled around and bolted from the room as fast as he could. What in the name of Jupiter had gotten into him? He'd put his oath to the Absconditus in jeopardy. He'd never done that before in his life. Actually, his oath had been in jeopardy the moment he'd carried her to the car last night.

His mistake just now was hiding the truth from her simply because he wanted her. He was a bastardo. He knew being with her was impossible, but it didn't stop the need she stirred inside him. It didn't stop him from wondering what it would feel like to experience firsthand the images he'd seen in his head just moments ago.

Images so erotic that he wished to Jupiter he'd never made his damned oath. Shamed by his thoughts, he released a harsh breath. He'd made his bed, and he had little choice but to lie in it without her. Once more he remembered Placido's words about a choice he would have to make. He'd made his decision a long time ago, and the only way to ensure he didn't break his oath to the Absconditus was to tell Cleopatra the truth. In the short time he'd known her, he'd come to realize that she valued truth, honor, and loyalty above everything else.

Her determination to rescue her friend from the Convent of the Sacred Mother showed she was willing to put her own life at risk for the sake of friendship. It was just one more reason to like her. And he liked her far more than he should. If he'd not taken his oath, they might have . . . He grunted. That was a road he had no business traveling. The problem was, a very strong part of him wanted to follow her down that path. That more than anything else made him realize how close he was to falling into an abyss that held just as much promise of heaven as it did hell.

Chapter 14.

DANTE sensed Cleopatra before she even reached the archway leading into the salon. Her presence was like a tsunami headed straight for him. He wasn't looking forward to this evening at all. The way he'd left Cleopatra earlier hadn't been one of his better moments. Deliberately, he kept his gaze focused on the day's edition of Il Messaggero . Not that he could even focus on the newspaper article he'd been reading, but it would at least give him time to acclimate himself to being in the same room with her. Across from him, he heard Placido inhale a sharp breath.

"Jupiter's Stone," the old Sicari Lord said in a ragged voice.

Startled, Dante dropped the newspaper to look in his friend's direction, expecting to see the ancient Sicari Lord bent over in pain. Instead, the old man had gotten to his feet to stare at the living room entrance with a dazed expression on his face. Dante followed Placido's gaze, and the air left his lungs as he slowly came up out of his chair.

"Sweet mother of Juno," Dante rasped as he struggled to breathe.

Cleopatra hadn't just dressed for dinner. She'd dressed for dessert. Her dark, wavy hair was the perfect frame for her flawless features, and it flowed downward to caress the beautiful curve of her shoulder. The strapless black dress she wore pushed up her full breasts, making them look like plump melons ripe for the picking. The thought made his head spin as he watched her sashay forward in a pair of stiletto heels that made her look-Christus, he didn't know what they made her look like. That wasn't true. They made her look good enough to eat, and he didn't need her kind of temptation.

Unable to help himself, he stood spellbound as she moved toward him and Placido. Her gaze met his, and his throat tightened at the flash of anger he saw in her violet eyes. He didn't blame her for being angry. He'd humiliated her. He deserved whatever punishment she inflicted on him. And he was certain she intended to extract her pound of flesh tonight. She'd taken his words to heart and dressed for dinner in such a way as to make certain he knew exactly what he'd passed up earlier this afternoon.

Every step she took in his direction highlighted the way the dress's pleated material fit snug against each one of her curves. He'd never seen a woman's body outlined so deliciously before in his life. Even more disturbing was how the dress ended about two inches below her bottom, where it clung to her thighs like silk against wet glass.

The black stiletto heels she wore made her bare legs look even longer than they already were. He suddenly envisioned his hand gliding over a sleek calf up to a lush thigh. Surprise swept across her face before she arched her eyebrow at him with a sardonic look that made him realize he'd unintentionally touched her with his thoughts.

Heat flushed his face as he struggled to accept the fact that he'd lost control. Sweet Juno, what was happening to him? Whenever the woman came near him, it was almost impossible to stay out of her thoughts, and now he'd touched her with his telekinetic ability. Praise Jupiter he'd not lost complete command of his faculties this afternoon when they'd kissed. Particularly when he remembered how easily her thoughts had flooded his. What he'd seen had sent him reeling. If he hadn't retreated when he had, the images he'd seen might well have come true.

Now as he watched her cross the floor in his direction, the memory of those visions sent a powerful surge of lust pounding through his veins. Christus, what would it be like to peel that dress off of those beautiful hips, that gorgeous body. The thought shot an icy chill through him. He needed to find a way to control this attraction he was feeling for her. If he didn't, everything he held dear would be in jeopardy. And he couldn't let that happen.

"Bellissima." Placido's voice was gruff and full of appreciation as Cleopatra stopped in front of them. "Dante, introduce me to this exquisite creature."

"Cleopatra, this is il mio signore, Placido Castillo," he said quietly, avoiding Cleopatra's gaze.

"Cleopatra." The ancient Sicari Lord said her name as if it were a prayer. Placido's obvious infatuation shot an unfamiliar emotion streaking through Dante as he watched his mentor take his time kissing Cleopatra's hand. "Your beauty rivals that of your namesake, carissima. You will sit next to me at supper."

"I would be honored." The husky sound of her voice made Placido beam at her, and Dante bit down on the inside of his cheek. The old man was acting half his age at the moment.

"Excellent," the ancient warrior exclaimed with delight. "I understand you're going to be staying with us for a while. We'll have to have Dante find an assignment for you."

"I don't think the Tribune knows quite what to do with me, il mio signore."

Amusement filled Cleopatra's voice, but her violet eyes still glittered with anger as she looked at him. It didn't matter whether she was referring to earlier this afternoon or his invisible touch from a moment ago. She was absolutely right. He didn't have a clue as to how to handle the woman. His collar grew tight around his neck, and he struggled not to tug at the shirt. Placido arched an eyebrow at him and grinned.

"Well, I'm not so old as to have forgotten what to do with a beautiful woman, carissima," Placido said with a smirk.

The sexual innuendo in the Sicari Lord's words made Dante stiffen as he glared at the old warrior. The man had always loved women, but he was far too old for Cleopatra. Amused by Placido's comment, Cleopatra laughed. It was a low, sultry sound that sent another hot surge of lust barreling through Dante.

"Perhaps the Tribune simply needs to learn how to relax," Cleopatra said in a stage whisper as she smiled haughtily in Dante's direction. "He does seem a bit stiff, doesn't he?"

For a fleeting instant, she glanced downward at his crotch, and his cock stirred in his trousers. As her gaze locked with his again, he clenched his jaw at the laughter dancing in her beautiful violet eyes. The woman knew she'd thrown him off balance, and she was enjoying the fact. Placido eyed him with a gleam of wicked amusement in his eyes as well.

"Don't underestimate Tribune Condellaire, carissima. Once you get to know him better, I think you'll find him to be quite charming."

"Not to mention meticulous, thorough, and an organizational freak." Cornelia's voice was quietly neutral, but as Dante turned toward her, there was a twinkle in her eyes. He was about to retort, but his Praefect shifted her attention to Cleopatra and nodded. "Molto bene, the dress fits you perfectly."

"I appreciate you letting me borrow it for the evening," Cleopatra said with a dazzling smile. "When the Tribune said everyone dressed formally for supper, I was at a loss as to what to wear. I only own a couple of dresses, and they aren't really formal."