Assassin's Honor (39 page)

           
When she slumped forward onto his chest, he wrapped his arms around her, content to enjoy the warmth of her on top of him. He knew it was a mistake to feel anything for her, but he did. With every word, every breath, every stroke of her body against his, the essence of her had penetrated the darkest parts of him. She'd touched him so deep inside that he knew he'd never be free of her.

           
The revelation didn't really surprise him. He'd known all along why he'd found it so easy to ignore the warnings in his head and seal their blood bond the other morning. He'd just refused to admit it. It had been easier to lie to
himself
, rather than accept the truth. But in denying it, he'd managed to obliterate the honor he prized so highly.

           
That he was willing to sacrifice everything, just to be with her, illustrated just how blind he was where she was concerned. Deep inside he'd known this might well be the last time she'd ever let him near her, and as much as he hated himself for it, he hadn't had the courage to tell her about the blood bond. He hadn't wanted to risk her rejecting him. Now it was time to pay the piper. He didn't hold out much hope for her ability to forgive him. The light touch of her finger against his mouth brought him out of his contemplation and his eyes met hers. Curiosity glimmered in her hazel-eyed gaze.

           
"Where were you just now?" She laughed as he quirked his eyebrow at her.

           
"Right here with you, dolce mia."

           
"No you weren't. You're worried about something. I can tell," she said with a touch of exasperation.

           
"Perhaps I was thinking how foolhardy it is to let you return to your house."

           
The lie wasn't that far removed, given his desire to protect her. Especially when what he really wanted to do was to lock her up someplace special so he could always come home to her. The thought sent fear crashing through him. She broke free of his embrace and scooted across the mattress to the opposite side of the bed. The moment she left him, he had to fight the urge to force her back into his arms. The beauty of her back made him want to have someone create a sculpture of her in this very position with her head turned to look at him. But he'd want to see a sleepy slumberous look on her face, not worried frustration. He mentally traced his fingertips down her spine, but the touch didn't change her expression.

           
"Are you trying to renege on letting me return home?" she asked in a stilted voice.

           
"I gave you my word," he ground out harshly. A sense of foreboding tightened his insides. And he'd do whatever it took to keep it. But his word wasn't going to mean much to her when he made his confession.

           
"I'm sorry. You're too honorable to do that." She inhaled a deep breath then got to her feet and padded her way into the bathroom.

           
The blanket statement hung in the air as she disappeared into the other room. It sliced into him with so much force he thought he might start bleeding. Go back on his word? His word wasn't worth anything. He'd made a mockery of his honor by making love to her today.

           
Christus, he'd been a fool to think he could control himself when he was near her.
The minute that damn vulnerability of hers showed itself, he'd been putty in her hands, and she didn't even know it.
From there, things had gone downhill when it came to his self-control.

           
That blithe comment of hers about hot sex had cut deep.
Deeper than he thought possible.
It had made him determined to convince her that what they'd shared had meant a lot more to him than just sex. He sat up and rested his arms on his knees. From the moment they'd met, he'd been sliding down a slippery slope.

           
He just hadn't realized how fast he was falling. If he'd been thinking clearly, he never would have touched her. No, that wasn't altogether true, but he would have stopped short of making love to her the other morning. And he sure as hell wouldn't have compounded the issue by doing it again this afternoon. All he'd done was make matters worse. If he thought she'd hate him before, she'd want him dead now.

           
The minute she learned the truth about everything, it was going to drive a wedge between them. A wedge he wasn't sure he could remove. He closed his eyes.
Deus.
No matter what he said, she'd think he'd been manipulating her again. The truth was--he had. From the beginning, he had not wanted to part with her, and when the opportunity presented itself, he'd acted. His subconscious decision to seal the blood bond between them wasn't going to make him look good in her eyes. Particularly when it meant something far more binding now than it had the night she'd interfered in the Dux Provocare. The minute she understood the full implications of the bond, she'd see his actions as a calculated way to control her.

           
The knowledge made him close his eyes in resignation.
Fotte.
Was he ever going to regain the precious control he'd nurtured since executing Clarissa's murderer? Was he so far gone where Emma was concerned that he'd lost his ability to think rationally? As for the desponsatio, she didn't have to accept the commitment. While part of him wanted her to say yes, the other half of him wanted her to refuse. The Order could give her a new life somewhere else where she'd be safe. Chicago was far too dangerous for her. If she chose to stay with him--chose to stay? He was a fool. She wasn't going to want anything to do with him, which meant it would be that much harder to keep her out of harm's way.

           
Deus, if something happened to her--he slammed the door closed on the thought. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. He'd keep her safe, even if she did wind up hating him. The idea of her despising him sent a spike of pain lancing through him. With a growl of self-disgust, he sprang from the bed. He tugged on his jeans and turned his head toward the bathroom.

           
"I'm going to find a snack. Do you want something?"

           
"I'd love a diet drink if you find one."

           
Her voice echoed out into the bedroom with a lighthearted laugh. He grimaced. Grateful she couldn't see how her words were affecting him. Instead of responding to her playful tone, he moved into the main living space of the cabin and headed into the small kitchenette. The refrigerator and pantry were well stocked, although he really didn't feel like eating. He just needed something to do until he could find the strength to bare his soul. He pulled out a brick of cheese along with a couple of bottled soft drinks from the refrigerator, while the pantry offered up an unopened sleeve of crackers. He was standing at the kitchen counter when she entered the room. He didn't hear her come in, but his body knew it the moment she did.

           
When he turned around, it was as if he'd taken another sucker punch to his gut. Mater Dei, she had to be the sexiest woman he'd ever seen. She'd chosen to put on his shirt and he was certain she wasn't wearing anything else underneath it. But it was more than a sexual need for her that made him go still. It was the smile curving her lips that held just a hint of shyness that tightened his chest until it hurt to breathe. He'd never be able to stem the hemorrhaging the minute she eviscerated him.

           
As she moved forward, his body was tighter than a bow pulled taut before it launched an arrow. When she stopped in front of him, she came up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly. The gentle caress warmed his heart as much as it did his body. The moment she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest, his heart sank. He wrapped his fingers around the edge of the kitchen counter like it was a lifeline. This was going to be harder than anything he'd ever done. He didn't even know how much to tell her.

           
In the past two weeks, she'd had to adapt to a lot of change. But how much was too much where she was concerned? She was resilient, but everyone had their breaking point. He was stalling for time. She lifted her head and stared up at him, her hazel eyes shimmering with anxiety. He almost groaned. Deus, she was thinking he had regrets about making love to her. The only regret he had was not giving her the choice. He swallowed hard.

           
"We need to talk." He hadn't meant to make his tone so harsh.
Especially when it caused her to flinch and step back from him.

           
"Okay," she said in a hesitant voice. "If it's about what just happened--"

           
"Fotte.
No."

           
He brushed past her and moved into the small living room. The violence of his action made her jump as she turned to watch him pace the floor. The quizzical expression on her face merely exacerbated his guilt. She was going to hate him.

           
Maybe if he could convince her that what he felt for her went beyond lust, then maybe it would be okay. The problem was how could he explain his feelings when he didn't even understand them himself? All he knew was that he cared for her. Cared about what happened to her.
Needed to be near her if only to hear her voice.
See her face.
Anything beyond that he couldn't admit to.
The fear that came with that confession wasn't something he was ready to face.

           
"Just tell me what's wrong." The exasperation in her voice brought him to a halt. He met her gaze and gave her a sharp nod.

           
"I tried to explain the other morning, but I . . . things got out of control . . . I lost my head . . . something I do a lot of where you're concerned." He sighed.

           
"What didn't you explain?" She straightened her shoulders and grew stiff.
Definitely not a good start.
Tension knotted in his stomach at the wary look on her face.

           
"The blood bond has more than one customary usage by the Order. What happened the other night at Julian's Rogalis is one custom."

           
"And I pay my debt by helping you find the Tyet of Isis." She frowned. "I understand that."

           
"It's a little more complicated than that."

           
"How complicated?"
She shrugged with puzzlement as she narrowed her gaze at him.

           
"The blood bond is a complex contract. It's used to adopt a child, to protect someone, and more. When a blood bond is sealed between a man and a woman, there are certain obligations--expectations that go with the bond."

           
"Fine, there's an obligation that comes with it. What am I missing here?"

           
Confusion clouded her face, and she pushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear in a gesture of frustration. An enormous need to grab hold of something lunged through him, and he folded his arms across his chest. His fingers dug deep into his biceps in an effort to keep from reaching out for her. The healed wounds on his arms were still tender, but he welcomed the pain. It wasn't the penance he deserved, but he was certain he'd be condemned to hell soon enough.

           
"The intricacies of the bond make it possible for certain actions to alter the original contract. One of those actions is intimacy. I sealed the bond the first time I made love to you."

           
"Why do I get the feeling that's a bad thing?" she said with growing irritation. His jaw grew tight.

           
"The Sicari also use the blood bond as a betrothal ceremony." The words sounded like a death knell the minute they weighted the air between them. Stunned, she just stared at him, her jaw slack with disbelief. Behind the disbelief, he could see the warning signs of the anger yet to come.

           
"Betrothal ceremony?"
She was clearly struggling to comprehend his words and shook her head.
"As in engagement?"

           
"Yes," he muttered as he ran his hand through his short hair.

           
"What?" The one-word question was sharp as a Sicari blade.

           
"When I performed the blood bond in front of the Order, it was a simple contract meant to save your life.
A way to protect you.
When I made love to you, it altered you and the original agreement."

           
The horrified look on her face shredded what little honor he had left. Not even when Phae had made him party to heresy after the gauntlet had he felt so much self-disgust. He turned away from her, unable to bear the look on her face. He'd promised to keep her safe, but the one thing he hadn't planned on was protecting her from
himself
. He bent his head and closed his eyes.

           
"Are you telling me that because we had sex, we're married?" Her voice slowly climbed the scale to end on a high-pitched note of anger.

           
"No," he growled as he whirled around to face her. "You have the right to refuse the desponsatio the Order will offer you."