Free Inferno's Kiss by Monica Burns

out.
    Cleo’s hand tightened on the hilt of her stiletto. All she had to do was get in close. She hopped to one side, dragging her injured leg with her in an effort to prepare herself for his attack. The Praetorian charged her, his sword straight out in front of him with the clear intent to run her through. At the last second, she twisted her hips sharply and arched her back so her upper body was parallel with the Praetorian’s sword.
    Despite her defensive move, the blade still managed to cut through her shirt and into the flesh of one breast. Once more, fire seared her skin, but it didn’t stop her from trying to slash the man’s throat. She missed, and her stiletto cut into the Praetorian’s shoulder instead.
    The man’s snarl of pain didn’t make her feel any better. He was still alive. Cleo hopped around to face her attacker only to see the Praetorian’s blade flashing her way. Self-preservation forced her to launch herself backward to avoid the sword. She stumbled in the process and found herself on the ground one more time.
    “I’m going to enjoy killing you, whore.” A cruel smile curving his lips, the Praetorian moved forward to viciously cut into the flesh of her upper arm.
    Cleo cried out in pain. Her vision blurred for a moment as the nausea she’d barely had under control renewed its harsh assault. She was out of options. Focus. If she wanted to live, she needed to focus. She forced herself to shut out everything but her determination to kill the man in front of her. He chuckled as she envisioned hitting his brachia and crushing it.
    The image she projected didn’t prepare him for the stiletto that whistled through the air and slammed into his throat. The Praetorian stood there for several seconds before he toppled forward in slow motion. Cleo didn’t wait for him to land on top of her. She forced herself to ignore the nausea and pain as she rolled away from the spot where the Praetorian eventually landed.
    She lay still for a long moment, staring up at the sky. With all the city lights illuminating the night, it was impossible to see anything but the brightest stars. Suddenly she longed to be in a lounge chair looking out at the sea at Palazzo al Mare, the Order’s stronghold just south of Genova. She closed her eyes, trying hard to muster up the strength to get to her feet.
    Violetta. She needed to get to Violetta. The woman’s abilities weren’t very strong, but Violetta could at least heal her leg wound. The cuts on her breast and arm could be stitched up. Cleo threw herself up into a sitting position with an agonized grunt. Jupiter’s Stone, she hadn’t hurt this bad in a long time. This is what she got for going out without a partner. She dismissed the thought.
    The risk had been worth it. When she added the information Angotti had given her to the other knowledge she had about the convent, it reinforced her belief that she could rescue Marta. There were still a few pieces of the puzzle missing, but a year’s worth of investigative work had just paid off in a big way. Well worth her injuries tonight. An alarm suddenly went off in her head, breaking through her self-congratulatory thoughts.
    It wasn’t a noise that threw her senses on alert. It was something else. A powerful frisson that scraped across her neck with unbelievable speed. Without thought, she launched herself toward the dead Praetorian in an effort to reach her stiletto. She wasn’t fast enough.
    The dark shadow that brushed past her tugged a cry of surprise from her lips, and she watched as the large figure knelt to pull her blade from the dead man’s throat. Goddamnit. After all that effort, her life was forfeit. There wasn’t anywhere to run, and she didn’t have the strength to do so.
    Resigned to her fate, Cleo clenched her jaw. She didn’t like to admit it, but she was afraid. She particularly didn’t like the way this stranger was toying with her. Praetorians were never silent. They liked to taunt their prey.