The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(51)

“You need my help if you expect to get anywhere.”

“And you need mine with Katerina Varga. You can’t talk to her the way I can. You haven’t experienced Kace the way I have, and if she’s having dreams, she won’t trust you the way she might trust another woman who has dreams, too.”

Those striking amber eyes met obsidian, a splash of sunlight battling black ice. A single beat in the air before it shattered. The immortal Enforcer crossed his arms, widened his stance. Gave in.

“Fine, but you play by my rules. You don’t go running off on your own and you listen to what I have to say.”

“You ass. Could you be any more difficult?”

Christan moved but she put the width of the desk between them. Christan wanted to pull her out from behind that security barrier, show her why she should never run from him again. The need to put her body beneath his was so intense he shook his head and growled. They stood in silence, glaring at each another.

“I have to do this, you know I do.” Her palm was out in front of her as if that would support her argument. “Don’t ask me not to help.”

“I can ask you not to risk your life.”

“Ask, maybe, but not order. There’s a difference.”

“So I’ve been informed.” Christan straightened. “And since I am aware of the dangers and you are not, I will request that you pay attention to my counsel, and if it seems logical to your view of the world at least accommodate me once in a while.”

“My god, that was a mouthful.”

One corner of his mouth ticked up, not a smile, but close enough. “How would you like me to phrase it?”

Her amber eyes flicked to his. “You are ancient,” she said.

“I cannot help the circumstances of my creation.”

“Birth. Most people say birth.” It was an unexpected concession. “If I promise not to violate your rules, will you promise to listen and respect my point of view?”

Christan nodded, noting again the faint pulse beating in her throat. She pretended a calm she didn’t feel, as did he. There were few moments throughout his long life when he doubted his decisions, but what he’d done to her all those centuries ago in Florence was one that stood out in his memory. It caused him to think of himself as something beyond redemption, a cold immortal who deserved every word she’d ever thrown at him.

Ti odio, Christan.

I hate you.

It was why he hated Florence.

Why he would go back there now. With her.

Because she deserved a proper ending.

Christan studied her, his eyes hidden in the shadows as he stood with his back to the window. Her defenses were up, which was a good thing considering the volatile nature of their relationship. He gave a hard nod of agreement and it was done. They would face the ghosts of Florence, and when it was over they would either pick up the ashes, or she would move on.





CHAPTER 20




Florence, Italy




Three provided the executive jet that took them from Portland to Chicago, where another private jet, larger and more luxurious, completed the transatlantic flight to Vienna. Lexi slept most of the way, waking once to the warm male scent beneath her cheek.

Her head was in Christan’s lap. Her fingers were petting the inside of his thigh and his hand was tangled in her hair. When she moved restlessly, his fingers drifted against her nape, and she slipped back into sleep.

The next time she woke, the plane was landing at the International Airport in Schwechat. Lexi stumbled through the customs line, then Arsen was leading her across the tarmac and they boarded a nondescript commuter flight to Florence.

Entry into Italy was completed without notice through a private office at the far end of the airport. Christan helped her into a large black vehicle while Arsen sat in front. The driver veered in and out of traffic, avoiding the motor-scooters swarming the streets despite the late hour. When they reached a building with a tall iron gate, Christan lifted her from the back seat and grabbed their travel bags from the trunk.

“Where’s Arsen going?” Lexi asked as the vehicle pulled away.

“He has his own flat about a mile from here.”

Christan maneuvered them through the gate. Stone steps opened onto a square courtyard, surrounded by tall buildings. Windows framed in stone were shuttered. Plants spilled from balcony rails, with the occasional bits of laundry. The earth memories were happy and nostalgic as if welcoming her home. Lexi tipped her head to stare at an inky black sky decorated with stars.

“I love stars,” she whispered, as Christan steered her through an arched wooden door. “Do you look at stars, Christan?”

“Yes,” he answered. “But only the first five stars.”

“For strength, faith—”

“Visione, coraggio e amore,” he finished before she could. Vision, courage and love. Lexi’s knees went weak, and not because Christan was dragging her up two more flights of stairs. When he opened another door, he held her against his chest with one hand and dropped their bags in the front hall with the other. The moment was soft and intimate and familiar. Then he guided her toward the bedroom.

“Sleep,” he commanded as he removed her shoes and settled her beneath a soft blanket. “You can work it out in the morning.”

Or at least that’s what she thought he said. The words had the haunting pain of memory that disturbed her as she drifted back to sleep.