Free Inferno's Kiss by Monica Burns Page A

This silence was making her damned uncomfortable. She watched as a gloved hand used the Praetorian’s shirt to wipe the blood off the stiletto.
    “Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Just get it over with,” Cleo snapped.
    “I believe this is yours.”
    The deep richness of his voice had an immediate impact on her senses. It made her body tighten with awareness, which exacerbated the stress on her wounds, and she drew in a sharp breath as her nerve endings pounded a new message to her brain.
    The stiletto clean, the shadowy figure flipped it so the hilt pointed in her direction and offered it to her. She didn’t hesitate to take the weapon and kept it pointed in the stranger’s direction. He didn’t move from the side of the Praetorian she’d killed moments ago. Although she couldn’t see his face behind the darkness of the hooded cloak he wore, she was certain he was studying her. She eyed him warily.
    He was dressed in the same manner as the Sicari Lord and the Praetorian Dominus who’d fought each other in the Pantheon when Lysander had led them to the Tyet of Isis . The long flowing hooded cape he wore was so reminiscent of assassins from medieval times. The problem was Sicari Lords and Praetorian Dominuses looked the same to her.
    And just because he’d not killed her yet wasn’t necessarily something to bet on at this point. The bastardo hadn’t said he was Sicari. Although the return of her stiletto was a good sign, but then again, Praetorians enjoyed their work. They’d find it amusing to make their prey think they had a chance. She waited for that odd sensation of someone probing her mind, but nothing happened.
    “Who are you?” she rasped, almost afraid to hear his answer.
    He didn’t respond. Instead, he moved to examine the men lying dead all around her. There was a lethal, masculine elegance in his movements that sent a tingling vibration across her skin unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She didn’t want to enjoy the sensation, but she did. She liked it a lot. Fuck, what in Jupiter’s name was wrong with her?
    But when he reached Angotti’s body, the quiet sound of fury he released made her uneasy enough to forget her nausea. He didn’t move. He just stood there staring down at the dead man, and for the second time that night she experienced fear.

Chapter 4
    DANTE stared down at Angotti’s limp form with an anger he’d not experienced in a long time. Four months’ work tracking the son of a bitch only to see it all washed away in one stroke of Cleopatra Vorenus’s hand. He released an expletive of fury and immediately regretted his loss of control. What was done was done. If there was anything he’d learned in his progression through the nine levels of the Novem Conformavi it was that true power lay in the ability to let go of that which one couldn’t control.
    He closed his eyes for a brief second. It was one of the core values of the ancient philosophy and a basic lesson he’d learned early. But there were times when he still sought to master the teaching. This was one of those moments. He’d passed the second and fifth Tabulati of the Novem Conformavi years ago, but at the moment, control and tranquility seemed just out of reach.
    He stared down at the dead man. If he’d gotten here fifteen minutes sooner, he would have gotten the information for developing a reasonable plan to rescue Beatrice. He suppressed a sigh. Pointless to dwell on what might have been. Angotti was dead, and with him the key to the Convent of the Sacred Mother. It wasn’t Vorenus’s fault he’d gotten here too late. She’d just been doing her job. And she’d gotten hurt in the process. He’d just have to find another information source, despite the fact that it meant more delays.
    Dante clenched his jaw then grew still as his gaze swept the scene. Where was her partner? Jupiter’s Stone. The woman had come here alone. Why? Rome was one of the most dangerous places in the world for