Assassin's Heart by Monica Burns Read Free Book Online Page B

direction and then another, searching for any sign that he might not be where he expected to be. The morning sun and the sound of traffic outside his window reassured him he was still in the Sicari installation in Rome. He glanced downward and grimaced at the pool of white fluid on his stomach.

    “F otte.”

    He climbed out of bed and moved into the bathroom to clean himself up. When he’d finished, he gripped the sides of the freestanding basin and stared at the grotesque reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t had a dream that intense since the last time he’d visited Rome, the week before … he threw up a wall to fight off the memories threatening to take over. With a skill he’d become adept at, he shoved his thoughts back into the dark hole where he’d buried them. The single green eye of the half man, half monster in the mirror glared back at him. With a low hiss of anger, he shoved one hand through his dark blond hair as he wheeled away from the sink and turned on the shower.

    For as long as he could remember he’d had dreams of ancient Rome and the Roman plebe who’d worked his way up the ranks to the rank of Le gatus . He’d even had glimpses of the woman before, but never like this. Never this vivid. This arousing. And not until now had the woman been a dead ringer for Phaedra DeLuca. His mind embraced the image of the Roman woman again, and he shuddered.

    He stepped into the shower’s spray of hot water. Eye closed, he let the water sting his face. It was just a dream. It was his mind’s way of compensating for his wish to have Phaedra back in his bed. That one night of incredible sex between the two of them was going to have to be enough to last him a lifetime. With a deep growl, he grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed at his body. Anything to take his mind off the erotic dream and Phaedra’s role in it.

    When he emerged from the bathroom a little later, he pulled on the standard black leather pants and dark shirt he always wore on duty. During the summer months, it would have been necessary to rethink his clothing, given the heat factor. But the air still had a bite to it in late February—even in Rome. He stepped out of the small bedroom into the sitting room. Designed as a temporary residence, the apartment offered up just the right amount of amenities for rest, work, and relaxation.

    “Come in,” he commanded sharply at the sound of a knock on his door.

    A young woman entered the room with a tray of food. Although he hadn’t called for breakfast, the Vi gilavi were excellent at anticipating the needs of their employers. Most of the Vi gilavi had served the Sicari for generations. Their forebears were people the Sicari had saved from different life-or-death situations. They were an integral part of the Order’s structure, and their contributions in law enforcement, academics, medicine, and other areas were invaluable.

    With an abrupt gesture, he silently ordered her to set the tray on the table out on the balcony. The sunshine made it warm enough for him to enjoy eating outside. The woman moved quickly to do as he instructed. The speed with which his thoughts reached out to search hers didn’t surprise him. It was a natural ability. An ability his mother had warned him never to reveal to anyone. She’d died on his sixth birthday, the day after giving him her warning, and it had reinforced her advice.

    What irritated him was that his unintentional probing showed he wasn’t in control, and it emphasized the intrusive nature of his action. A wave of disgust sailed through him as he quickly broke the link. The connection hadn’t been strong, but it had been enough for him to see the stark image of the girl with her lover.

    He used to find it easy to prevent his telepathic ability from sifting through the thoughts of others. But ever since that night more than a year ago—mer da , that was the last thing he wanted to think about at the moment. Infuriated by his lack of control, he