Page 24 of His Stolen Princess

Cato

She lies beside me, her breathing slow, her lashes atop her cheeks like black lace gracing the skin of a luscious fruit. A beauty with no equal. My sweet Apollonia. She’d given herself to me freely, pushed me to the edge, then fell with me.

Now, in the dark, as I listen to her slumber and run my fingers along her smooth back, my thoughts slowly darken, slowly turn toward what must be done. Because the man in my vineyard tonight—he would’ve hurt her. Perhaps worse. I will never let that happen.

Maybe I’ve created a purpose for myself over the years. Power. Of course it was power. I sought it, took it, and now I wield it without mercy. But that was never my true reason for being. No. My real reason is lying next to me, her hair splayed out in rays of night along my chest as she sleeps, giving me ultimate trust.

How long have I waited for this? I don’t know. I never considered another, never wanted a woman to warm my bed or my heart. But Apollonia does it without effort. One look at her at that funeral, and I was done. My soul ensnared by her fiery eyes and sharp tongue. And maybe, somehow, my heart recognized hers, remembered her from that dark night so long ago knowing I belonged to her alone. She set me on my path long ago, and that path led me right back to her. For that, I will be forever grateful.

I press a soft kiss to her forehead before easing out of bed. Leaving her is an acute wound, but it must be done. I silently promise her that when I return, I’ll make it up to her with my tongue, my fingers, my cock—anything she asks of me and plenty of things she doesn’t—it’s all hers.

Snagging my clothes from the floor, I pad from the room and silently close the door. I point at the two soldiers lounging down the hall.

They pop up and wipe the sleep from their eyes.

“Guard this door with your lives. No one in or out. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” They station themselves outside the door as I continue down the hall.

Pausing at Carter’s door, I open it and peek at him. Like an angel, he sleeps with his hands clasped beneath his cheek. And the devil sleeps on his shoulder, her whiskers twitching as she blinks open her feline eyes and stares at me.

I close the door and continue down the hall, my steps becoming heavier as I descend the stairs. By the time I reach the bottom, each footfall is heavier than lead. Moving deeper into the house, I pass soldiers at every door. They puff out their chests but give me plenty of leeway as I pass.

The night greets me with a cool wind as I pass through the garden at the rear of the villa and enter the old barn. Its stone walls were laid back in Roman times, and it will stand long after I’m gone.

Santino’s inside, his shirt off and his face sweaty. His fists are torn, but he doesn’t bother to tape them. He just swings again, nailing the vineyard guard with a hard right. A messy stack of cash is thrown in one corner, the bills blood-splattered.

Santino’s fist connects with a fleshy thunk. The soldier yowls and goes limp.

I grab a knife from the metal table along the wall and press it to his groin.

His eyes open.

“I knew you were awake. You won’t escape this punishment.”

“Pussy.” Santino thumbs his nose and swings again.

I back away as the soldier’s head snaps to the side, a split appearing on his cheek.

“Did you ask him any questions?” I roll up my shirtsleeves slowly, methodically.

“No.” Santino shrugs and backs away from the bound man.

A bare bulb overhead gives enough light to see the damage Santino’s already inflicted. I take up the knife again, wondering how much more I need to take from this man before he spills the truth.

“You were guarding the vineyard’s southern perimeter?” I use the flat of the blade to lift his face to mine.

“Yes.”

“Did you see the intruder?”

“No.”

“Why lie to me, Raoul?”

“Not lying.” Blood oozes from his broken nose.

I backhand him. “Try again. I’ll do this for as long as necessary. You know what I say is true.”

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