The Shades of Time (18 page)

Tonio and Nico
were wrong—they weren't the only ones conscripted to serve the
family's needs. But unlike his brothers, he chose who and when—at
least until now. If his father insisted on his betrothal to one of
the horse-faced Habsburg whores, all that would change. It did not
proscribe finding comfort elsewhere, it just meant he'd need
discretion and subterfuge—traits he found annoying at best. And
unlike the freedoms he enjoyed in Venice and at home in Florence,
at the court he would become much like a butterfly specimen on
black velvet—ever on display and under constant scrutiny.

I don't wish to
live my life that way.

Stefano gently
maneuvered the stiff corset off Veluria's bodice; but before
dropping it onto the bed he held it up, curious at the imbalance,
and smiled.

"I see you have
protection, M'lady."

"As well I
should. You never know what manner of brigand might be about in the
late afternoon."

"Brigand." He
chuckled, enjoying the analogy, but set the stiff fabric on a bench
far away from the bed. He'd prefer she didn't have a stiletto
available in case she objected to the activities he had in
mind.

Veluria kept
her tone light, yet he sensed the faint tinge of concern. "A
brigand of the very best sort, I have been assured."

"Then let us
see just what such a cad might have in mind, shall we?"

Stefano went
light-headed as her small breasts fell into his eager palms, the
mounds soft and pliant, fitting exactly as if God had intended her
body for him alone. Never had he had such a connection with another
human, not even with his brothers for whom he would willingly give
his life. This went beyond that, far beyond. For her, and her
alone, he would do anything, any act, heinous or otherwise, nothing
could ever keep her from him. Not his father and his plans, not the
court favorites or his brother's men, or his friends who seemed to
live vicariously through his exploits, no one could come between
them now. He'd never felt so sure of anything, the rightness of it,
the need to claim it and make it his own.

With practiced
ease, he slipped the heavy fabric from her body, revealing filmy
undergarments that outlined her hips and the sweet rise of her
belly. She was so small he had to lean forward to reach the hidden
places that she so loved for him to touch, each small stroke, each
tease, each small hitch of her breath a stab of sublime pleasure in
his groin.

Veluria turned
and swiftly removed his doublet and finely-woven shirt. She had to
stand on tip-toe to reach his mouth, clasping her delicate hands at
his waist to give her leverage. Always the tease, he stayed just
out of reach, forcing her to wriggle against him until he yielded
for a taste of her full lips, his tongue probing with increasing
urgency.

She disengaged
only to run her fingers down the length of his torso, stopping to
tweak his nipples between her fingers, drawing them out, then
digging in with sharp nails until he murmured a small mewl of pain
and pleasure.

Yes, you do
know what I want. Oh God, yes.

As she followed
his contours, she traced a path along the ridge at his hips, then
lower to slip the buttons securing the codpiece, allowing the
fabric to fall away and release his engorged cock into her hand.
She kept her eyes on his chest as he unbraided her hair, allowing
the pins to drop soundlessly on the thick carpet. As she stroked
him, he focused on the delicious pain and pleasure. She glanced
down, then back up, her mouth in an 'O' of consternation and
disgust.

"Who did this
to you? Tell me and I shall have him destroyed." She pressed, her
anger barely contained. "Stefano. Who?"

"It doesn't
matter."

"You don't mean
that. I know you too well. This has scarred you and I will not have
it."

"No, it
hasn't."

"Stefano, stop
with the cryptic remarks. I don't understand." With a moan she
looked at the still seeping wounds, now ridged in sharp relief as
his cock swelled with need in her hand. "This has to be so
painful…"

He whispered,
"It is. And that is why I cannot explain…"

Veluria shook
her head violently, prepared to argue the night away but one look
at his face stayed her tongue.

"Please,
mi donna
amata
, just love me now. Let me fill you, I
need this, I beg you…"

"
Sì, il mio amante
, come lie with me. Make love to me as if the world is
ending."

"Like the world
is ending, yes, that is exactly how I feel, my Veluria."

Stefano swept
her into his arms and deposited her onto the feather bed, then lay
atop her small frame, carefully nudging her thighs apart, mindful
that she might change her mind at any moment and unsure that he
could pull back now. His pain, and desire, had reached a point of
no return. He needed to feed it, to push himself through it, to own
it, control it.

Veluria winced
as he thrust himself deep, the lacerations and scars rough to her
sensitive flesh. But her moans of pleasure-pain as he plumbed her
depths drove all thought from his brain as he wrapped his hands
about her beautiful neck and squeezed. Her nails raked his back and
she bucked wildly beneath him but he held her fast, thrusting his
hips and driving deep, brutally deep and silently begging
forgiveness and praying Antonio never found out for he would surely
end this torment with one swift stoke.

Releasing her
throat, he ignored her gagging and flipped her over as if she
weighed nothing, hitching her up onto her knees. Spreading the pale
cheeks, he ignored her moans and plundered the tight entry with his
fingers, stretching until she writhed beneath him.

As he entered
her again, he whispered, "We leave tonight, just the two of us.
Together. Forever." And then he opened to her as he thrust to the
hilt, flooding her with images until she finally understood the who
and what and why.

That is who he
is. He is the one who showed me the way.

He came on her
sweet screams.

****

Andreas watched
with interest as the Demon exited yet another private domicile.
This was the third in a row and each time the Dark One's temper
sank to new depths. One of his men approached cautiously, mumbled
some communiqué, then returned to the small knot of soldiers
comprising the Medicis' private army. How the Demon had summoned
these men eluded him. It seemed they materialized by magic whenever
the giant went on the prowl in the city.

Andreas debated
following the man as this seemed a useless endeavor. He could spend
his time torturing himself while the woman whored with the younger
son—not something he fancied, yet of all his options, experiencing
her pleasures vicariously had far greater appeal than dealing with
the ire and psychotic turmoil of the Dark One.

Andreas bolted
down a side alley headed back to Cosimo's domicile. He'd leave the
Demon to whatever errand his father had sent him on. He much
preferred keeping a proverbial eye on Veluria—her name caressed his
mind softly—but with her secured within the palazzo's walls, he
would learn no more that evening.

The progress
he'd made was of little use to the Monsignor, but keeping the man
in the loop and convinced of his utility meant he had continued
access to local resources. Now might be the right time to report to
His Holiness. After that, he could perhaps reward himself with a
visit to Le Vergini and indulge his need for a vessel with one of
the many novitiates recently acquired by the convent. He suspected
he would need his strength in the coming days.

The prospect of
relieving the cloying ache in his groin overrode all other
considerations. Andreas headed back toward the Central Square on
foot while Antonio proceeded with his men away from San Polo.

Too concerned
with trivial tasks, neither man detected the perturbations in
energy that heralded their universes' slide into chaos and a world
of shadows.

Chapter
Thirteen

Cosimo glared
at his manservant, then at his eldest son. Moonlight flooded
through the bank of tall, narrow windows lining the canal side wall
of his small study.

"That will do,
Paulo. Leave us."

Paulo lit the
last remaining candle on the desk and left the room quickly,
closing the heavy walnut door behind him.

"Sit." Cosimo
sank onto the plush cushion by the fireplace, and pointed to the
one usually favored by his youngest brother. The irony was not lost
on him. One fuck-up replaced by another.

Tonio had
returned to the palazzo in a foul mood, the afternoon and evening
frittered away on meaningless interrogations of petty men with
delusions of grandeur. Although he'd instilled a satisfying fear of
God in the merchants, seeing to his father's business dealings was
not something he enjoyed, nor was he adept at the nuanced
negotiations involved. Sending him out that day had been a fool's
errand and designed simply to get him off the premises so Cosimo
could see to matters that concerned Stefano without his
interference.

He felt a
headache coming on, one of the debilitating explosions of agony
that could send him to his bed for hours, if not days. Only his
father suffered the same malady. A result of their special "gift",
no doubt. He would need to fight it, keep his wits about him.

"The
information you sought…" Antonio began an explanation, then halted
as he watched with concern as the waves of pain cascaded across his
father's lined face. He recognized the source immediately, having
suffered too often himself not to have sympathy for others in the
throes of the excruciating agony.

Cosimo croaked,
"It is of no consequence now. Too late."

"I can
still…"

"No, Tonio.
Listen, for I do not have time to debate this issue. Hear me out
for it will be in your hands, and I must make it clear what the
stakes are for all of us."

Curious now,
Antonio settled onto the cushion and awaited what he guessed would
not be good news.

"Friedrich has
accepted my proposal, with his usual conditions, this you know,"
Cosimo stared at his son intently, "but what is new is the urgency
with which we must proceed."

"Urgency?"

"I am to send
Stefano, alone, to the Imperial Court. The Reichstag has been
convened yet again and Friedrich wishes to parade his latest coupe
in hopes of gaining favor. Bringing our house and his together
would do much to convince the Dukes that he is worthy of joining
their ranks. Stefano will marry his oldest daughter there.
Immediately."

Antonio sat
quietly, absorbing the implications. This was not unexpected for
Friedrich who, though considered mercurial by his peers, could move
decisively when his interests were at stake.

"Alone?" Cosimo
nodded. "I don't think so. Stefano must be prepared for facing the
Reichstag. His pretty court manners will take him only so far.
Those vultures will eat him alive and I will not have it. I will
accompany him with a few of my hand-picked men."

Antonio thought,
I will work behind
the scenes to assess the implications for this hurried arrangement.
Stefano will have a choice, if I have anything to say about
it.

"It matters
not. He is gone, that foolish boy."

"Gone? Gone
where?"

Cosimo kneaded
his eyes. "The candles, please."

Antonio heaved
up from the plush cushion and extinguished the candles on the desk.
His father had moved into a full blown attack, so much so that the
wavering candlelight would be causing shooting stabs of pain into
his skull. They had little time left to work out the situation
before he'd need to have Cosimo moved to his quarters.

"
Gracie
,
Tonio,
gracie
." He
kneaded his temples, grimacing. "The fool has run off."

"Dammit. Do you
know why…?" Stupid question. The blood pounding through his veins
threatened to blow the top of his head off. "So he learned of
Friedrich's plan, is that right?"

He wasn't sure who he was more furious with, his father … or
himself. They—no,
he
—should have seen this coming.

"
Sì
, I knew he
hesitated but I assumed he would do the right thing for the
family."

"And you are so
sure this is the right thing? You put family first, Papà. Does it
never occur to you that perhaps Stefano's happiness might come
first?"

Cosimo looked
at him with surprise. He stuttered, "Th-there is no difference, it
is about the family. You know this. You have lived by this credo
all your life. All that you do, all that you are, is in service to
the family. We have made you what you are."

Antonio
sneered, "Yes, exactly right. You have made me what I am
today."

Antonio pushed
off the cushion and rose with difficulty, the pain in his head
sending waves of nausea through his gut. In truth it wasn't just
his damnable malady causing him such physical distress. After what
he'd done to Stefano, the aggravating waste of his time seeing to
miniscule details of commerce…

Antonio stalked about the salon, livid with anger. Anger at
his father for his absolute control over all their destinies. Anger
at Stefano for being such a slave to his damned misguided
sensibilities. Anger at the interminable scheming that greased the
wheels of politics and commerce. But mostly anger at himself—his
gut clenched as he fought against the strange inner stirrings the
woman had aroused. Feeling that stood in opposition to his deep
well of
famiglia
fedeltà
, the loyalty that insinuated
his very core and gave him reason for living.