Fated: Torn Apart by History, Bound for Eternity (36 page)

Brutus realized that everyone’s gaze had fallen upon him. “Then the day is over. We can retire to our homes.”

“
Nay,” Cassius spat. “Brutus, you must convince him to come.”

Backing up a step, Brutus shook his head. Last night, he had imagined that Caesar might wish to leave this world and retire with the gods. It was very clear this morning that Julius dwelled firmly with the living. “It is over, Cassius.”

“
It is not,” Cicero stated hurriedly. “You heard Suprinna yourself. The Ides is the day. We cannot shirk from our duty.”

Brutus backed another step. Now he was in the light of the Curia, leaving his fellow senators in the thick shadows of the corridor. “He must arrive on his own.”

Now that Brutus was far enough away, the others dared not speak their objections, otherwise they would risk the entire Curia hearing them. Walking back to his station, Brutus prayed that Caesar held fast. He wanted no blood on his hands this day.

* * *

Syra struggled against her bonds. They were not well fastened, but they were thick. She was not certain where she was being held, but it was near the Forum, for she could hear the shouts of bystanders waiting for Caesar’s arrival. Did these thugs not realize the danger all of Rome was in? And why ambush her, then let her live?

No one knew she was returning to the city. Syra’s brow creased. No one except Mirta. Had the old woman betrayed her? Was she a member of the Dark? Did the hag owe allegiance to the Order’s shadow?

“
I knew you would return,” a shrill voice announced from the shadows.

Syra’s fears instantly evaporated as she recognized the woman’s voice. “Lylith.”

The thin woman emerged from the back of the room. “I knew you could not stay away from my husband.”

Syra did not bother to correct the woman. Lylith had never held claim to anything but Brutus’ name. His heart was promised to Syra for eternity.

But how could she explain to Lylith that the brittle woman was nothing more than a small blemish on the tapestry of history?

“
What do you want?” Syra asked.

“
Your head. To deliver to Brutus’ bedchamber. Let him sleep upon that.”

Syra did not believe the brittle woman had the nerve to order such a thing, but Lylith had a crackling look in her eye. Her cheeks were far more flushed than they had been with red blush. Syra had seen other tightly spun women crack, committing the worst atrocities without a blink. Lylith appeared close to that moment when sanity fled in the face of billowing rage.

Still working the ropes with her wrists, Syra tried to stall. “Lylith, I mean you no harm.”

“
No harm!” The woman’s voice rose two octaves. “You have ruined me!”

The two thugs closed in upon Syra as Lylith’s eyes shone in the dim light. Syra stayed upon her knees, feigning resignation. “Please, Lylith.”

“
That’s right, slave. Beg me. Beg me for your life.”

Even though it choked her throat, Syra continued the ruse while she unfastened the last of the knots. “I don’t want to die. I’ll leave and never come back.”

“
Oh, you will never come back!” Lylith said as she motioned the men.

With a strong push, Syra was up and onto her feet. The two men had expected to prey upon a runaway slave. They had not anticipated her aggressive move. The man on the left tried to dodge out of the way, but Syra slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground.

Lylith’s screams echoed off the small room’s walls as Syra slammed her fist into the man’s face, knocking him unconscious. Spinning around, Syra was on her feet, dagger drawn, ready for the second attacker.

The thug glanced at Lylith, then back to Syra. After a heartbeat, the man darted from the room, leaving only Lylith and Syra. The once-confident Roman backed herself into the corner.

Her voice was softer than a mouse’s. “Please.”

Syra spun as the door to the room opened. In the doorway was Horat.

“
What are you doing here?” Syra asked Brutus’ Guardian. Why would he be here rather than with his charge?

The servant’s eyebrows shot up as he surveyed the room. “I came to rescue you.”

Syra could not help but snort as she looked down upon the cowering Lylith. “I need no rescuing, but we must get to the Forum.”

Horat nodded and retreated from the doorway. Syra turned to the huddled woman. “Leave Rome, Lylith. Leave before
I
become jealous.”

Without another word, Syra caught up with Horat. “Brutus sent you?”

“
Nay, he is still ignorant of his destiny, but the Order has been watching Lylith. When they realized her scheme, they sent me.”

“
Then we must truly hurry to the Curia.”

Horat tried to comply, but the streets were thick with bystanders—each trying to catch a glimpse of the great general. But the crowd was sorely disappointed. Centurions were posted every few feet to keep the mob under control as they chanted for Caesar.

Horat urged her to the edge of the crowd where they might slip past unnoticed, but a guard stopped them.

“
None but senators may enter.”

Horat bowed his head. “I am Brutus’ servant. He has sent for me.”

“
None.”

Syra’s hand lashed out so fast that Horat did not even see her strike until the centurion fell to the ground unconscious.

“
Quickly, get him to the alleyway,” Syra instructed.

While Horat helped, he was obviously confused. “But there are a dozen other guards between here and the Forum.”

“
We need only his armor. There is an ancient passage between the Temple of Saturn and the Curia.”

“
I have never heard of such a tunnel. Are you certain?” the servant asked.

“
It had best be. I ordered it constructed.”

* * *

Brutus entered the small cubicle and pulled the curtain shut. He had thought to leave the Curia, but Antony was to arrive any moment with the latest word from Caesar. As much as he wanted to flee the conflict, Brutus was obliged to see this intrigue through. But with all eyes upon him, he felt the need for a bit of privacy. Was that not what these alcoves had been built for?

Closing his eyes, Brutus tried to free his heart from its turmoil. There was so much he regretted and so much he still had to atone for. Could history not slow its pace to a canter? Was it much to ask that the Ides passed without incident?

Alerted by the scraping of wood against marble, Brutus rose and backed away from the wall. The secret panel was opening. But that was impossible. No one else knew of its existence. The figure who emerged was even more impossible. The body was camouflaged in a centurion’s armor, but those eyes he could never mistake.

“
Syra?”

“
Brutus?”

For a moment he thought he was mistaken, but the woman removed her helmet, and her rich, red hair tumbled past her shoulders. She unlatched the breastplate and set it beside her. Syra searched his eyes and seemed to find them wanting.

“
Do you remember?” Syra asked in her husky voice.

Her eyes sparkled green, and her lips were the deepest red. He found it hard to speak when he looked upon her. The effect made him stutter his answer. “I have wronged you.”

A look passed over Syra’s face, but Brutus could not fathom its meaning. She approached even closer. The smell of her skin was strong in his nostrils.

“
You have done far more to me than that.”

Syra came up to him. So close that Brutus could feel the warmth of her body through her dress. The bare skin of his chest burned in response. If they were not in the Curia, Brutus might have lost control and reached out to stroke her long mane, but he kept his hands down. Her eyes searched his for an answer, but he did not know her question. What did the Northerner want?

“
For it all, I am sorry.”

Her face was so close to Brutus that he detected a ghost of a smile pass over Syra’s lips. “Sorry? Oh, you will be. You have not known such regret as you will soon.”

Brutus stood fast as the Northerner leaned into him. At the points where her body pressed against his, Brutus felt a heat he never had before. His loins stirred, but the senator fought his desire. Now was not such a time. He must keep his wits about him.

Syra’s behavior was most strange, but Brutus could not make her stop. The Fates had granted him his wish, and despite the circumstances, the senator would not abandon this chance to make things right again.

“
What do you feel for me?” Syra asked, her lips but a few inches from his own. Her breath brushed his cheek, making his pulse pound in his ear so loudly that he barely heard her words.

How could he answer? His throat was thick with desire, and his body ached to touch her. How could he voice words he had never spoken to any other woman? “You know already.”

“
I must hear it from you,” Syra demanded, her eyes still searching his own. She dragged a fingernail down his outstretched arm, but the action did not hurt. Instead, it sent waves of gooseflesh across his skin. “Am I your slave, then?”

“
Nay,” Brutus nearly groaned. “You were free from the moment I laid eyes upon you on the auction block.”

Syra’s other hand now lay upon his bare chest. Her palm burned against his naked skin. A finger dragged in lazy circles around his nipple. It hardened in response, much like the rest of his body did. Soon, he would not be able to hide his arousal. Her hips were pressed against him. What a sight this would make if someone walked in. Brutus tried to keep that in mind as she raised herself up on tiptoes.

“
Do you love me?” Syra asked, as her lips nearly touched his ear.

Brutus leaned toward her, hoping to feel them against his skin, but she pulled back a fraction of an inch—keeping them separate, but close enough for energy to spark between them.

“
Do you?” the Northerner demanded.

With blood pounding in his veins, Brutus realized he could refuse Syra nothing. “Yes,” he moaned, “I love you.”

But still, she would not meet his lips. Instead, she looked into his eyes. “For eternity?”

Their lips were nearly against one another. Every breath she took became his own. “For eternity.”

When her lips met his own it was as if the world collapsed unto itself and exploded all around Brutus. The kiss was all consuming. He might as well have been caught in a lightning storm. Rome was nothing but a white blur while his body was held prisoner in the most seductive of traps.

Syra’s lips were hot against his own. Her body arched into his, feeding the fire into his whole being. Her lips parted slightly, just enough to let her tongue explore his lips. Then ever so gently, she used her teeth to nip at the corner of his mouth. There was no pain, only scores of fire down his skin. Her hand explored his neck, until her fingernails scratched at his neckline. Then with precise skill, she tugged at his hair. Just enough to cause bolts of energy down his neck. The sensation did not abate until it had coursed out his feet.

As much as the Northerner was affecting his body, it felt as if their passion was altering his mind. He had been a tightly held bud his whole life, and now with her moist lips upon his own, the petals were slowly opening, releasing desire and knowledge in equal measure. Brutus cared not for the reason—he only wished it to continue to infinity.

Breaking off the kiss, Syra whispered in his ear, “Do not fight it.”

“
Never.” Oh, how little she knew of his passion. It was a raging river, and Brutus was prepared to ride each and every rapid with elation. He found her lips again as images opened in his mind like a flower’s first bloom.

There was no surprise when Brutus realized that he had known Syra before. Her hair might be brown or her eyes blue, but the woman whose lips now kissed him hungrily was the same.

He let the sensation wash over him as his arousal hardened against the woman known as Syra. There was no hiding his desire now, nor did he wish to. The full truth was still beyond his sight, but Brutus knew this woman was his own.

Syra had been his Fated since the dawn of time. Freed from the shame and guilt back at the celebration, Brutus explored Syra’s back. She groaned as his hands cupped her buttocks and pulled her to him. This was not the first time he had heard her make that sound, and he wished to hear it over and over again.

The more memories that poured into his mind, the greater his desire to know everything about this new body of hers. Each Awakening only drove his passion to dizzying new heights. While Syra had been the aggressor at the beginning of their kiss, Brutus now guided their course. As his hands became surer, and the passion they had shared for ages flowed through them, Brutus could feel her yield to him. Her body leaned into his in sweet surrender, causing
him
to groan in pleasure. No matter that Syra was a warrior who could break an enemy in half, she was still a woman who could make him feel the man.

* * *

Syra felt Brutus’ hand slide up her side and find the outline of her chest. He cupped her breast and gave the flesh the tenderest squeeze. Syra moaned for a moment, then caught his hand and moved it away.