Handsome Bastard (2 page)

Approaching his spacious villa, he couldn’t help smiling when he thought what an unbelievable existence he now had. It was quite a change from when he’d been nothing more than the bastard son of an Etruscan soldier and a Roman farm girl. Over the centuries, many had tried to take this powerful life from him. Jealous blood-drinkers. Mortal hunters. Many of the latter he’d easily lured into his world. Some still remained loyally in his service. They had learned he wasn’t the monster they thought him to be. The ones who refused to cooperate, however, had met the beast they feared. He’d crushed them without a blink and would continue to do so for eternity if necessary.

At the villa, a boy slave took their horses. While Sextus went to carry out his master’s orders, Cyprian carried the still unconscious woman to his cubiculum and placed her on the bed.

He could have taken her elsewhere and summoned a female slave to look after her, but his curiosity got the better of him, as did that uneasy feeling he could not ignore. He peeled off her soaked garment, careful not to touch her in the manner he longed to. Regardless of who she was or what her motives, she was still unconscious. Rape in any form had never appealed to Cyprian. Though his carnal tastes ran toward the rough, he liked his partners wet, willing and begging for his cock and fangs.

Moments later Sextus arrived with warm water, cloths, herbal ointment and bandages. Cyprian dipped a cloth into the water and began cleaning blood from her face.

She jerked awake, her heartbeat quickening, and stared at him with large blue eyes.

“Who are you? Where am I?” she demanded.

“We’re asking the questions here,” Sextus stated. “Since it was my master’s land you chose to collapse upon.”

“I didn’t choose anything,” the woman snapped, glancing from Sextus to Cyprian. Suddenly aware of her nudity, she reached for the blankets, though she didn’t appear nearly as embarrassed as he would have expected. That told him quite a lot. “My former master is a cruel man. He no longer wanted me, so he had me beaten and tossed into the road. I walked as long as I could then I must have lost consciousness.”

Cyprian said nothing, merely continued staring at her, sensing the lies that fell so easily from her pretty lips.

“Most likely a runaway,” Sextus said. “We should throw her back on the street where we found her. Or try to find her master.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Silence, woman. Isn’t it enough that my master soils his hands tending a slave like yourself without insulting him further with your sharp tongue?”

Cyprian raised his hand to the servant but kept his gaze fixed on the woman as he said, “Leave us, Sextus. Tell Flavia to bring food and wine. And a spare tunic.”

He could just about feel the servant bristling with annoyance before he left them alone.

“Now,” Cyprian continued, again moistening the cloth in water, “you will tell me more about your unfortunate circumstances.”

Leotine’s heart pounded as she stared at Cyprian Augustus, so enraptured by his catlike green eyes and voice as deep and rich as the finest wine that she nearly forgot she’d been sent to kill him.

It had been her idea to come to him under this guise. As with all her assignments, she had carefully studied her victim. Though Cyprian had at first seemed to harbor no weaknesses, Leotine had eventually found one. Women. Plump, innocent-looking women in particular. Fortunately Leotine possessed both attributes.

Not to say that Cyprian was a fool for such women. The man hadn’t a foolish bone in his body. He simply
lusted
after such women. Lust could lead to love. Love to trust and trust to death. Convince him of her love and loyalty and he would be hers.

The first step was to seem as vulnerable as possible. What better way than to appear as a beaten woman on the side of the road? Julius had agreed to her plan and assisted her in the preparations. Far too willingly for Leotine’s taste. The filthy swine had actually seemed to
enjoy
beating her, even taken her by surprise with his ferocity. Furious, she’d struck back only to be knocked unconscious by one of his slaves.

For the first time, she began to wonder about whether or not her duty was worth the sacrifices she’d made.

Cyprian placed a hand to her cheek and began washing blood from her face. She tried to turn away but he held her gently yet firmly as he blotted her lips.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked softly. “I told you I’m a slave.”

“At the moment you’re my guest,” he said in those low yet incredibly masculine tones that sent an unfamiliar feeling of warmth through her entire body.

She had looked at paintings of him made by members of her faction who had seen him. Once or twice she had even looked upon him from a distance when he traveled to the city. She had been careful not to move closely enough for him to bother focusing on her by sight or scent. It had been important for their initial meeting to be by
her
plan. Though she had heard rumors of his stunning good looks, she hadn’t expected him to be like this.

His face, with its chiseled bone structure and green eyes that seemed to remain in an alluring half-closed position, like a man thoroughly engaged in making love, nearly stole her breath. He was taller than most men too, with a lean yet muscular build apparent even beneath his tunic.

In all her years of tracking and killing blood-drinkers, she had never been attracted to one. Until now.

“Who was your master?” he asked.

“Julius Titus,” she replied.

“And your name?”

“Leotine.”

Cyprian nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. She studied him carefully as he continued cleaning her face then moved to her arm, which he washed and bandaged. His warm, tender touch lulled her and she found herself wondering how a man like this had earned such a horrible reputation.

She mentally scolded herself. This false charm was how he had managed to survive, luring men and women into his deadly embrace.

“Shouldn’t a slave be doing this?” she asked, keeping her voice soft and innocent.

He had moved to the end of the bed and raised the blanket. Taking her leg in one hand, he used his other to clean a cut on her thigh.

Leotine drew a sharp breath, her pulse racing. His hands on her leg felt shockingly good and she found herself wondering how it would feel if he touched her not to heal, but to please.

She imagined those large yet slender hands stroking her calves. Her breathing deepened when she thought about how his slender lips would feel kissing her inner thighs or his tongue tracing the shape of her knee.

Beneath the blanket her nipples stiffened, provoking thoughts of Cyprian Augustus drawing one of the plump buds into his mouth and sucking. A quiver of passion rippled through her and the delicate flesh between her legs ached with need.

Cyprian’s gaze met hers and his lips curved upward in the slightest smile. His finely shaped nostrils flared a bit, most likely detecting the aroma of her lust. No man or animal could differentiate between scents like a blood-drinker. A hint of fear combined with embarrassment took her by surprise.

Not only was she accustomed to doing whatever necessary to fulfill her duty to We Who Serve Humanity, but she should be pleased he sensed her passion. After all, seducing him was her first step toward destroying him.

A female slave arrived with the food, wine and clothing Cyprian had ordered. She simply placed the items on a stool and left.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Leotine nodded. She was actually quite hungry. And thirsty. Her body ached from Julius’ beating. The strange feelings this man evoked confused her in a way she couldn’t think about. Not if she intended to kill him.

A hunter’s first rule of survival was not to feel for the prey. Hesitate for a moment and the battle was lost.

He finished tending her injuries then offered her the tunic.

“Clothe yourself,” he stated. “Then eat, drink and sleep. We will talk more after you’ve rested.”

Leotine nodded. “Thank you. I—I don’t even know your name.”

Another smile flirted with his sensual lips before he said, “Cyprian Augustus.”

“Thank you, Master.” She bowed her head. “You have been most kind. Most—”

He turned and left while she was still talking.

* * * * *

Sextus awaited Cyprian outside the door. The servant began to speak, but Cyprian raised a hand to silence him.

They walked to the atrium where Sextus said in just above a whisper, “I don’t like her and I don’t like how you’re acting. We have no idea who this woman is. It’s not time to indulge in one of your lewd affairs—”

“She’s hunting me,” Cyprian stated, causing Sextus to pause, his eyes wide.

“If she is, then why bother healing her? Kill her now and be done with it.”

“You have never learned the art of subtlety.” Cyprian sighed, folding his arms across his chest.

“And you pride yourself in cheating death. Even our kind can die you know. Why must you always try to convert these stake-driving pigs? Is it arrogance? Pride? I know you too well to think it’s mercy.”

He shrugged. “Call it a hobby.”

“Then take up something less dangerous, like fighting lions in the coliseum.”

Cyprian chuckled.

“I’m serious, Cyprian. Why not confront this woman now?”

“Because I want to see how far she’ll go with this act.”

“She’ll go far enough to drive a stake through your heart, if you let her.”

“You think so?” Cyprian walked to the pool just below the hole in the center of the atrium ceiling. He watched raindrops pelt the water while his thoughts drifted to Leotine. Not only was she beautiful but in spite of her soft, feminine appearance he saw strength in her eyes. The woman was made of steel and he liked that. She was willing to suffer for her beliefs. Unfortunately she believed in the wrong things. Like most hunters, she thought all blood-drinkers should die for the crimes of a few. If he could make her understand her folly, help her see the truth, a woman like Leotine would make an incomparable ally, perhaps even a worthy companion.

“Cyprian, please.” Sextus approached and grasped his arm tightly. Their gazes locked, genuine worry gleaming in his friend’s eyes. “Don’t do this. One of these days your luck will run out.”

“It’s not luck that has saved me all these years. It’s skill. Now excuse me, Sextus. I have a seduction to plan.”

* * * * *

When Leotine awoke, she heard nothing except the wind rushing through the trees outside and the sound of her own breathing, but she sensed she was not alone. Her body tense and ready to fend off a potential attack, she strained to see in the darkness. Unarmed, she had little chance of surviving against Cyprian or one of his kind, yet she had been trained practically since birth to fight
them
to the death.

“Good evening, Leotine.” Cyprian’s hushed voice, so deep and delicious, made her feel as if she was sinking into a warm pool of lust.

She turned toward the sound of his voice only to be surprised when a dim light shone through the door across the room. She hadn’t heard him move. His tall silhouette passed into the hallway and he returned carrying a lantern. Light from the flames danced on his face and half-bare chest draped in an old-fashioned toga. Such a garment hadn’t been in fashion for years in Rome, yet in it Cyprian looked handsome beyond words. The way the material draped his broad shoulder and left his powerful arms exposed sent her pulse racing out of control. A mat of dark hair covered his wide chest. The urge to run her fingers over it almost overcame her.

As if sensing her desire, he approached, placed the lantern on a stool and sat on the edge of the bed. A pleasant, herbal scent clung to him. His catlike eyes fixed on hers, the lantern light flickering in their green depths.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you. I…what do you plan to do with me?”

He looked thoughtful then ever so gently brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips. Instinctively she drew away, though at the same time she longed for him to keep touching her. By the gods, she wanted more than his mere touch. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted that sleek, masculine body atop her and his cock to fill her while she clung to him in mindless ecstasy.