Assassin's Honor (40 page)

           
"No?" She glared at him. "Then what the hell does refusing the desponsatio mean?"

           
"Merda, it means yes. Yes, technically we're married, but if you refuse the desponsatio, you have no further obligation to me. It's a contract you have the right to nullify."

           
"Contract?"
Her eyes glittered with fury. "A contract is when both parties agree to the transaction. I didn't agree to marry you."

           
"But you didn't object when I made love to you either." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He gritted his teeth for adding fuel to the fire.

           
"I am well aware of my own stupidity. You don't have to remind me, thank you very much," she said with an angry hiss.

           
Her anger was almost a tangible force pushing against his chest. Christus, every time he opened his mouth, he just dug his grave that much deeper. If she was this incensed now, he could only imagine her reaction to the possibility of transference. He winced at the thought of adding to her pain.

           
"I'm not blaming you. I knew what the consequences were of sealing the blood bond. I take full responsibility for that. I know you're angry--"

           
"I bypassed angry and jumped right to furious a few seconds ago. I suppose you had this macho idea that I would just meekly submit to your orders."

           
"It wasn't like that--"

           
"No, of course it wasn't." She sneered. "You were so overcome with desire for me you forgot what the ramifications of having sex with me were."

           
He took a step toward her then stopped when she backed away, her hands up in the air in a defensive gesture. He grimaced. "Yes. No.
Damno ut abyssus.
I made love--"

           
"No.
We.
Had.
Sex," she interrupted him with icy rage.

           
He met her furious glare with a growing frustration. He needed to make her understand that he'd lost his head where she was concerned. It wasn't just sex for him. If that had been the case, he never would have touched her. There was something more between them that he couldn't define. He'd meant it when he said he could have sex with any woman but that she wasn't one of them. With her, the emotions ran too deep for just sex. She was a part of him, and he didn't want to lose her.

           
"I made love to you because it felt right.
Special.
There wasn't anything except you and me. Nothing else mattered. I know I should have explained things. I tried the morning after the Dux Provocare, but Atia interrupted--"

           
"Oh, and today you just waited to find the right moment to tell me? When would that have been? Before or after you screwed me?"

           
"Fotte."
The oath of frustration and self-loathing roared out of him. "It wasn't like that, Emma. I lose my head when I'm near you. I can't think straight."

           
"You need a better excuse than that. God, and to think I almost bought into this whole protection bit of yours."

           
"Deus damno id, Emma, I am trying to protect you."

           
"How?
By having me service your sexual needs," she bit out as she leaned into him, her forefinger jabbing him in the chest with a fury he knew he deserved. "I should have let that other guy kill you."

           
Her words cracked into him like a club. Mater Dei, couldn't the woman see he was already on the cross where she was concerned? What he'd done was reprehensible, but did she really think he'd offered her his protection just to sleep with her? He was lost as to the how or why, but the one thing he knew with a certainty was that they belonged together. She had every right to be outraged and hurt by what he'd done, but he refused to let her dismiss what had already passed between them. Furious with himself for creating this bed of thorns he was in, he glared at her.

           
"He wouldn't have killed me, and we both know it would have only delayed the inevitable. You're mine, Emma. You have been since the first time I laid eyes on you."

           
"Your arrogance is unbelievable. I'm not a piece of property you can do with as you like."

           
"You're right, you're not a piece of property," he said through clenched teeth. "But you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you."

           
"Just because you tricked me into sleeping with you doesn't mean you own me." Her words were a battering ram to his chest. "I'm getting this goddamn blood bond of yours dissolved the minute I get back to the mansion."

           
She spun around and headed for the bedroom. Almost through the door, she suddenly grasped the doorframe and came to an abrupt halt. The shudder rippling through her frame made his heart contract with sorrow and remorse. Merda, he was a bastard for what he'd done to her. As he closed the gap between them, she whirled to face him, and he was brought to a stop by her outstretched hand holding him at bay. Pale and trembling, she met his gaze with a look that reminded him of someone in shock.

           
"You said--altered me and the agreement. What did you mean by altered me?"

           
"Emma, I don't--"

           
"No, I distinctly heard you say the bond altered you and the original agreement." She focused her eyes on him with a fierce intensity.
" Tell
me what that means."

           
"It means you're a Sicari."

           
"No. There's more to it than that, isn't there?" she snapped.

           
"Yes." He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Transference of
a Sicari
ability is inevitable. The strength and type of ability are dependent on the individual."

           
"How long?
How long before . . . I'm . . . before this happens?" The horror in her question made his gut clench as he stared at her devastated expression.

           
"Everyone's different. It could be
days,
weeks . . . at other times it takes a traumatic event to trigger it."

           
"Oh, fuck." Her hand floundered through the air as she turned to cling to the bedroom doorframe. When he reached out for her, she slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me. Don't you dare touch
me.
"

           
"Emma, please--"

           
"No." She jerked upright and turned to face him. "No more lies. Save them for some other woman who's a sucker for a smooth talker."

           
The fury in her voice held a note of contempt and humiliation. Her mortification was so deep he could hear the pain of it echoing in her voice. But there was something else in her expression.
Shock.
She'd realized she was no longer the Emma Zale she'd once been. She was different, completely changed, and she'd had no choice in the matter.

           
Fotte.
What sort of man was he that he could cause the woman he loved so much pain? The revelation was so sharp it sucked the air out of his lungs in a single breath. What had he done? He had to tell her. She needed to know--understand that his love for her had driven all of his actions. Every sin he'd committed, every touch, look, and word had been because he'd refused to acknowledge his emotions. Denied the reality of what was happening to him.

           
Most of all, she needed to understand how much of a coward he'd been by refusing to tell her everything--including how much he loved her. Everything he'd done had been because she was a part of him. The second half that made him whole. If he could make her believe that, then there might be hope for him yet. He reached for her, and she swung at him.

           
Despite his ability to easily dodge the blow, he allowed her the solid punch to his jaw. His head snapped back from the force of her jab as her fury and humiliation coursed through her arm and fist straight into him. It took him a moment to recover, and when he'd straightened upright, the door to the bedroom had already slammed shut. There was
a finality
to the sound that sliced deep and the sliver of hope left inside him curled up and died.

           
EMMA pressed her back to the oak door and closed her eyes with a quiet sob. Oh God, what was wrong with her? How could she have been so easily fooled a second time? When he'd said there was something between them, he'd sounded so sincere. And dear lord, the way he'd made love to her--no, it had been sex.
Nothing more.

           
Incredible sex, but nothing more than that.
No, that wasn't true. It had meant more to her than she wanted to admit. She opened her eyes and stared at the tousled bed. It was a vivid reminder of what she'd shared with Ares such a short time ago. If she dwelled on what they'd shared, she might never recover from the pain and humiliation she was experiencing now.

           
A shudder quaked through her, and she stumbled toward the bathroom. At the sink, she stared into the mirror. The woman facing her was a stranger. Eyes wide in her face with the pale complexion of someone in shock, her reflection reminded her of the way she'd looked the night she'd lost her parents.
Emotionally devastated.
But this time, humiliation was the crippling emotion. Not grief. This was even worse than when she'd found Jonathan in bed with his intern. This humiliation was far more painful because her connection to Ares was far stronger than anything she'd ever felt for her ex-fiance.

           
She could have easily forgiven the impulse that had controlled both of them the morning after he ran the gauntlet. She certainly hadn't objected. If anything, she'd been just as much a seducer as he had. She'd encouraged him. And she'd been doing that since their first kiss. Blaming him for what happened that morning was unfair. Despite the heat of the moment, she did remember his reluctance.
But today?
He'd had plenty of opportunity to tell her everything before touching her. The bond had obviously been sealed the morning after he'd run the gauntlet, but he should have said something. He hadn't offered her a choice this time.

           
It wasn't the idea of being bound to him that horrified her. And while she might not have liked having
a Sicari
ability, she would have found a way to live with it just as she had her own gift. She might not have been too happy about it in the beginning, but she would have come around. But he hadn't said a word until everything was a fait accompli. That was what hurt the most. It cheapened what she'd had the stupidity to think was something special. To not tell her until after they'd slept together--for a man who prided himself on honor, he'd shown none toward her. Where had his nobility been this afternoon?

           
The man had betrayed her for the second time. First, he'd brought her to White Cloud simply to have her look at Sicari artifacts. When she'd discovered his dishonesty, she promised herself she wouldn't fall for his lies again. But today he'd persuaded her that the artifacts hadn't been his reason for bringing her here. He'd convinced her that he'd just wanted to keep her safe. And she'd actually believed him.

           
She'd believed him.

           
What a fool she'd been. Cupping her hands beneath the running faucet, she splashed water over her face. The cold of it stung her skin. Sharp and acute, the pain reminded her of the dark emotion in Ares's eyes earlier. He'd said it would never be just sex with her, and in his expression, she'd seen the knowledge that he would have to pay a price for saying that. Was it possible he'd understood that he'd sacrificed his honor today just to be with her? A shudder raced through her.

           
She was an idiot for hoping to find an excuse for his behavior. Christ, she didn't need to understand his actions. The why didn't
matter.
He'd played her for the fool, and she wasn't going to hang around and be fooled a third time. Reading those damn artifacts would have to serve as her debt then Atia could break the bond between them and she'd be done with him.

           
She ignored the protests echoing in the back of her head. Ruthlessly, she shoved them back into a dark corner. No. He'd violated her trust. There was no room for excuses here. Her heart was already close to breaking, and making excuses for him would just push her over the edge.

           
The admission sent a bolt of terror through her. It was the closest she'd come to acknowledging that her feelings for Ares were stronger than she realized. And if she didn't get out of here, he was going to find out. The sooner she
left,
the better. She needed time to strengthen her defenses where he was concerned.

           
With as much speed as possible, she gathered up her discarded clothes and dressed. Her fingers fumbled as she pulled his shirt over her head. The action made her senses reel as she drank in the warm, male scent of him buried in the shirt. A tear splashed onto her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut. No. She would not cry. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he'd hurt her.