Desire Me (35 page)

He scanned the room searching for Sabine and finally saw her with Calliope tied back to back in two chairs.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.

“Max, darling,” Cassandra purred. “Come to rescue your whore?”

He saw the pistol she had dangling from her pale hand. She straightened her arm and leveled it at him.

His stomach clenched. “Cassandra, what are you doing?”

“Taking what is rightfully mine. I’ve been looking for this for years, and now I’ll have eternal beauty.” She smiled broadly
as her glazed eyes focused on the blue bottle in her hand.

“Sabine, are you and Calliope hurt?” Max asked, not taking his eyes off Cassandra.

“No,” Sabine said. “We’re all right. Max, she shouldn’t have drunk all of that elixir.”

“What’s going to happen to her?” he asked.

“She’s going to die,” Calliope said. “That much will most certainly kill her.”

“If you are trying to frighten me, it won’t work.” Cassandra set the bottle down and walked toward the restrained women. “I
feel wonderful.” She looked down at her hands. “Look how smooth and lovely my hands look. Where can I find a mirror?” she
asked Sabine.

“There is a handheld mirror in the drawer of the desk,” Sabine said. She motioned to the corner.

Max took the opportunity, while Cassandra was retrieving the mirror, to make his way closer to Sabine. “How long will it take?”
he asked softly.

“I’m not certain. I’ve only known a handful of people to ingest it directly, and only because of grave injuries or disease,
and then in very small quantities. A drop or two at the most, but an entire bottle, even a small one, will…” Her voice faded
as she shook her head.

“It won’t be long now,” Calliope said knowingly.

“Oh, it’s working,” Cassandra said, her voice full of awe and glee. “Look at my face. Look how lustrous my skin looks, how
healthy.” She stared into the mirror, as if entranced by her own reflection.

“Is there anything we can do to stop it?” Max asked.

Calliope shook her head. “No. And it will be painful for her. Vanity is not a pretty way to die.”

As if Calliope’s words had commanded the elixir into action, Cassandra screamed in pain. She grabbed her face as the skin
began to wrinkle and bubble.

“What’s happening to me?” she asked.

“We tried to warn you,” Sabine said. “The elixir is far too dangerous.”

Cassandra’s hands gnarled, and her face contorted in pain as she fell to her knees. Then she screamed, a noise so loud and
so full of excruciating pain, it actually hurt Max’s ears. He made his way to Sabine and stood in front of her, holding her
face against his side to block her from the sight of Cassandra’s painful demise.

“You did all you could,” he told Sabine.

“Max! Do something!” Cassandra screamed.

“I taunted her,” Sabine whispered.

“But you warned her. You couldn’t have prevented this.”

And then the screaming stopped, and Max knew that Cassandra was dead.

Spencer had followed Cassandra St. James’s carriage as it led her to Piccadilly, and she went into a small shop. Two hours
later, and she still had not come out. He knew his lovely lady wasn’t the guardian. He’d spent several hours in her company
the other evening, and after a while, his ring had dulled in color. And he’d known from that day in his office that the marquess
hadn’t been the guardian; there had been no change at all in his ring that day.

The only explanation he could come up with was that somehow she had been exposed to the elixir. He’d decided to follow her
and see if she didn’t lead him straight to his target. It was well past closing for those businesses. After an hour of waiting,
Spencer had moved to the alleyway. There he stood across the street, shrouding himself in the darkness as he hid on the stoop
of a milliner’s shop.

A man had entered a little more than thirty minutes before, and now another man, followed by a constable, stepped into the
small shop. Something was happening in there, something he knew had to do with the prophecy. He could feel it. She was nearby.
The guardian was in that shop.

Quietly, he walked across the street and kept his body up against the wall so he was not seen. He looked down at his hand,
and the ring glowed bright, the color of fresh blood, just as it had done when he’d found the other two guardians. This was
the place.

His grandfather would be so proud. Finally he would fulfill what his ancestors had begun. Atlantis had once been a handful
of battles away from becoming the ruling nation of all, and his ancestors had been part of that. But then the guardians had
fled, taking their elixir with them.
And the military had suffered. Without the elixir to give them extra strength and cunning,
they had failed and ultimately been destroyed and defeated.

But he had been selected as the Chosen One to see their plans through to completion. And now he was very close. Satisfaction
and excitement surged through him.

Now he needed only to bide his time until he could get her alone. Or perhaps he didn’t even need her, only needed to get into
that shop and find her amphora. If she was not sleeping here, she might not have the elixir with her. No, it was best if he
followed her until he could have a few moments alone with her.

He had found the third guardian, and finally the prophecy would be fulfilled.

A couple of hours later, Sabine and Max finally arrived back at his house. The police had come and taken Cassandra’s body
away. Thank God, Max had called on his friend Justin to come to her shop. She could only imagine trying to explain Cassandra’s
death to an inspector. No doubt Sabine and Calliope would have been accused of poisoning the woman. But Max had given his
statement swearing that when he’d arrived both she and Calliope were tied up, and Cassandra had consumed the liquid of her
own volition.

Justin had referred to the liquid as poison in the official documentation. He said it would be easier than attempting to explain
the mystical elixir from Atlantis.

Weariness settled on Sabine’s shoulders like a great overcoat, heavy and cumbersome, as she followed Max up the steps into
his townhome.

Behind them, carriage wheels rolled to a stop. “Max,” a man said. They turned to find Justin.

“What is it?” Max asked. “Surely you’re not here to arrest her.”

“No, of course not.” Justin made his way up the steps and into the entryway. “I wanted to let you both know that we picked
up Johns, Cassandra’s man. He’s already confessed to a murder.”

Relief washed over Sabine so forcefully she nearly collapsed. “Truly?” she asked. Could it possibly be over even without the
dove? Had the Chosen One simply destroyed herself through her own vanity? Perhaps that had been it all along—the elixir was
the dove.

“The generals’ murders?” Max asked.

Justin shook his head. “He hasn’t given us any specific details, but I think it’s only a matter of time before it all comes
out.”

“Still doesn’t make much sense,” Max said. “I don’t understand why Cassandra would kill military leaders.”

“The prophecy,” Sabine said. “If she was the Chosen One, it was commanded of her.”

Max nodded. “I can’t argue with a confession. And this is Cassandra; she hasn’t always made a lot of sense to me.”

“I thought you would want to know tonight,” Justin said.

“Appreciate it. Oh, and Justin, if Johns says anything about the prophecy, let us know. Perhaps we have it backward, and he
was the Chosen One, and Cassandra was helping him. I just want to be certain.”

“Absolutely,” Justin said. “Well, you two have a lovely evening.” He smiled and gave Sabine a wink before he left by the front
door.

Together, she and Max made their way to his study.

“Do you really think it’s finally over?” Sabine asked. “The prophecy, the Chosen One, all of it?”

He closed the door behind them. “Yes, I think it’s over. Would you care for a drink?”

“Perhaps a small one.” She stood in the center of the Persian rug. “Should we return that sword?” She motioned to the massive
blade leaning against his desk.

He smiled. “Perhaps we’ll hold on to it for a while longer.”

He handed her the glass, and she took a small sip, allowing the brandy to slide down her throat slowly before she took another.

“I don’t know how Cassandra found out about the prophecy,” Max said. “Maybe I told her once.” He turned to look at the map.
“I can’t imagine she saw it in there, though she has been in this very room many times. Hell, I don’t even think she can read
Greek.” He rubbed his hand across his neck. “I know we talked about Atlantis a lot back then, it was nearly all I ever talked
about. I was young and stupid and not very discreet.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Sabine said. Somehow she’d known he would blame himself.

His eyes met hers, and gone was any hint of humor or charm. This Max looked intense, almost deadly. “Yes, it is. She would
never have found you had it not been for me.” He swore loudly. “She could have killed you.”

“But she didn’t.” She touched his arm. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t turn in to her touch either.

“She came into my shop the first time the day you did. After the poker game. I don’t believe she was following you. Vanity
does cruel and terrible things to people,” Sabine said. But she knew he did not hear her. At least he did not believe her.

There was no point in arguing with him. There would be no consoling him. Frankly, she couldn’t blame him.
But Agnes was safe.
The elixir was safe, and Sabine should feel enormous relief. Yet anxiety still flowed like water through her veins.

She set her glass down, then made her way over to him. Quickly, before she could lose her nerve, she wrapped her arms around
him and squeezed. “I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve done so much for my aunts and me, and you didn’t have to.” It was
one thing to seduce a man, to touch him as a lover would, but to embrace a man with no other intention than to console him,
that was an entirely different matter.

His arms tightened around her and pulled her closer to his body. He nuzzled her neck. Before Sabine knew it, they were kissing.
Slow and gentle at first, like lovers kissing after a long time apart. Then their hunger increased, and the kisses became
hotter, wetter, more intense.

Desire bubbled in her abdomen and radiated down between her legs. She felt herself grow wet for him.

Sabine tore at Max’s shirt, ripping it open. Buttons flew in several directions. She didn’t care, though; she needed to touch
him, feel his strength. Next were his trousers. The other time he’d been nude with her, she hadn’t paid close attention; she’d
been so focused on her own feelings and sensations. Now she looked, took in her fill. Long and rigid with muscles, his sculpted
thighs looked like a statue of Adonis.

They couldn’t wait to move to the bedroom, so instead she pushed him down on his sofa. He sat and smiled up at her, raw desire
apparent on his face. And she would have sworn there was something else, something far more tender, but she shoved the thought
aside. Wanting more from Max would only lead to a broken heart. But for now she was finished trying to resist him. Their affair
would
be brief, he would tire of her after too long, but at least she would have experienced this kind of passion.

She straddled him, and the rock-hard sinew of his thigh twitched under her touch. She reached under her skirt, pulled aside
the hole in her drawers, and glided down on top of him.

His hands encircled her waist as she began to move. Then he cradled her face with his hands and kissed her. Kissed her as
if he loved her. Her heart soared. She tried to remind herself that actions could be deceiving, and no matter how it might
seem in this very moment, Max did not love her. But she realized with a sudden, fierce certainty that she loved him.

She did not need him to love her. She said the words again and again in her mind, trying to brand them on her soul. Still,
tears pricked her eyes as she made love to him. When they climaxed together, the world seemed at peace, in perfect union.
She kept her eyes closed and laid her head on his shoulder.

This was a moment out of time for both of them. Merely an adventure for him, and for her, the last time she’d devote totally
to herself.

As much as she’d tried to avoid it, she wanted more. Wanted Max. With his sharp tongue and wicked sense of humor, he was everything
she never knew she wanted in a man. He made her laugh, and he made her feel secure.

But she would not repeat her mother’s mistakes. Loving Max did not mean she would build a life with him.

S
abine Tobias
.

She was the third and final guardian. Spencer had followed her and the marquess back to his townhome in Mayfield. Now he knew
where to find her, and how to get to her. All along, she’d been there, safe with her lover, Maxwell Barrett. If only Spencer
had paid closer attention that day when Max and the detective had come around to ask questions. He’d known that the marquess
was involved in some capacity, he’d simply picked the wrong woman.