Taken by the South Wind

Anna Hackett

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter One

The hunt had begun.

Dante Venti stood at the top of the Spanish Steps, Rome spread out before him. The wind swirled around his body, carrying the noises and scents of the Eternal City.

He lifted one hand and waved toward the night-shrouded buildings. The wind hurried to obey his order, searching for any sign of the prey he hunted.

The wind was his to command. Like his father and grandfather before him, he was a WindKeeper, one of four brothers gifted with the power of the wind. Since the day he’d reached manhood and inherited his power, he’d been Keeper of the South Wind.

His warm breeze brought back the blaring horns of the frantic Rome traffic, the laughter of late night diners, the exclamations of wandering tourists and the whispers of lovers.

It also brought him the taint of his foe.

You’re better than them. The sly, nasty voice slid inside Dante’s soul. Why do you waste your time protecting them? Succumb and accept your true power.

Dante pulled in a deep breath. “He’s here.”

“Find him. We don’t have much time.”

Dante turned to look at his brother. They could have been twins with their big muscled builds and dark curly hair. But Luca was a year older and Keeper of the North Wind.

“I’ll find him.” Dante looked back at the city. Luca was right. There wasn’t much time. He felt it inside him, each beat of his heart like the ticking of a clock.

Three days ago, the Venti Tempesta had escaped their warden, Livia Cavalli. For three endless nights, Dante and his brothers had searched for the evil Tempest Winds. They’d gone without sleep and rest in order to find the Winds before they wreaked their havoc.

Now Dante was close to finding his adversary. Somewhere in the twists and turns of the city’s streets lurked Africus—holder of the Southwest Wind and its dark vice of pride.

He would waste no time infecting as many humans as possible. Dante eyed the group of tourists gathered at the bottom of the steps, eating gelato and snapping photos, unaware of the danger bearing down on them.

But humans weren’t the only ones susceptible. Dante already felt the pull of pride, a vice he’d struggled with his entire life.

“Caecius has gone north.” Luca turned, his blue eyes ice cold. “I must follow him.” Caecius was holder of the Northeast Wind and keeper of anger.

Dante studied his brother. Luca looked calm and controlled, until you noticed his hands. They were clenched into fists, his knuckles white.

Luca would never succumb to the anger. Dante knew his brother was as stubborn as he was strong. Still, Dante wouldn’t burden Luca with the knowledge that pride was already seducing him, whispering to him like a deadly siren song.

Dante clasped his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll find Africus. How are Antonio and Soren going with the hunt?”

“Antonio knows his quarry, Corus, is in Florence. He’s trying to flush him out.” A muscle in Luca’s jaw clenched. “Soren’s gone north to Como on the trail of Apeliotus.”

“The Tempest Winds have never split up like this before.” Worry nipped at Dante with sharp teeth. He carried the memories of his WindKeeper ancestors. He remembered all the times over the centuries their foe had escaped and what evil they’d spawned.

“Usually they like to hunt in a pack.” Luca’s frown deepened. “Brute force didn’t work for them in the past. I think this time they’ll be more cunning. Be careful, Dante.”

“You, too, mio fratello.” He clasped Luca’s arm. “Good hunting.”

With a nod, Luca turned away and summoned his power. Dante felt the icy prickle of the cold North Wind. He watched his brother’s big body dissolve, turning into the wind itself. Then Luca was gone.

Starting down the steps, Dante turned his focus to his prey. He would scour Rome until he found Africus and destroyed his human body. Once all four Venti Tempesta were released from their corporeal bodies, the WindKeepers could entrap them again.

Dante pushed through the throng of tourists. So many people with nothing better to do than eat, gawk and take photographs. They knew nothing of holding power, of keeping others safe.

Dio. He cut off the thoughts. It was pride speaking, not him. His hands flexed. The power of the winds carried terrible vices: anger, lust, pride and greed. The wind itself was neither good nor evil; it was the Keeper who decided what to do with that power.

Dante and his brothers had warred all their lives to control the darkness. The Venti Tempesta however, embraced the vices, and when they were loose, the WindKeepers’ control grew very thin.

He slipped into an empty alleyway and pressed his back against the terra cotta wall of a building. He would remain in control. Scraping a hand over his face, he closed his eyes.

Tiredness rode him hard. He hadn’t slept in three days and it made the struggle against pride even more difficult.

He had to stop Africus before pride drove him to madness.

Stalking down the darkened street, he moved farther from the crowds. The quiet helped soothe his ragged nerves. He wished for the peace of his office in the shipyard at Naples. He much preferred the challenge of his job at Venti Shipping to the bustle of Rome.

His wind came back to him, whispering of Africus’s stench. Dante’s shoulders tensed and he followed, turning through the maze of city streets. It wasn’t long before he realized his wind had led him to the Forum.

Once the heart of the Roman Empire, the Forum was now an amazing collection of ruined temples and buildings. In his mind, he recalled the memory of a previous Keeper, saw what it had looked like in its heyday. Exquisite temples with rows of columns, travertine paving and crowds jostling to greet their emperor.

In modern times it still bustled with crowds, but tour groups, rather than Roman citizens. At this time of night it was empty and dark, the shadows hiding many secrets and sins.

He moved with silent steps, not wanting to alert his target. His warm southern wind brushed over him, warned him that someone lurked in the shadows.

But not the Tempest Wind. Someone else.

He tensed and waited. Seconds turned to minutes. Nothing.

The sense of danger melted away. With a frown, Dante moved forward. His wind was never wrong. But who would be stalking him other than his enemy?

He continued deeper into the Forum.

Afraid of the shadows, Keeper? Why should you, someone so powerful, be afraid?

Dante gritted his teeth and ignored the voice drifting on the wind. Ahead, he saw a flicker of movement in the darkness. For a second, a lithe figure moved in the shadows. When he looked again he saw nothing.

But the sense of danger returned.

He called the wind. It grew up around him, hot and scorching, disheveling his hair and catching at his clothes.

Then a body came out of nowhere and barreled into him. The momentum took him down. He smacked into the dirt, a slim figure kneeling on his chest.

Dante felt the sting of cool metal against his throat.

“Your life is mine, dark one.” Samia Hassan pressed her blade harder against her mark’s throat.

She couldn’t see his face in the shadows, but before she killed him, she would look him in the eye. It was a habit she’d formed over the years. Not out of respect for her victims, but for herself.

To force herself to confront what she was—a killer. Born and bred to hunt supernatural beings. The brotherhood’s best assassin.

Her stomach churned. Or she had been the best. Until a cold night three months before, when she’d made a horrible mistake.

The hand holding the knife wavered. Yanking the man’s head back, she looked into his face. Everything in her froze.

The mouthwatering features belonged in a Renaissance painting. There was no mistaking his Italian heritage—olive skin, patrician nose, dark hair curling over his forehead. The face of a dark angel. His eyes were stunning—the color of expensive cognac.

He watched her, his unblinking gaze skimming over her face. A strange feeling welled up in Samia, like a warm breeze rushing over her skin and through every cell of her body. He seemed familiar, as if she’d met him before. But she knew for a fact she’d never seen this man before tonight.

His big body bunched beneath her. “Uh-uh.” She moved the knife, nicking his skin.

She wouldn’t lose her nerve. She’d kill this man, this evil creature, because this was her last chance to prove herself and she had nothing else in her life but death.

He stilled. “Who are you?”

His voice was deep, sensual, and wrapped around her like strong arms. His English was perfect; its barest hint of an accent stroked her senses.

She shook her head to break the odd spell. “I am your death.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “How about a name?”

Samia frowned down at him. He showed no fear of her. When she held a knife to a man’s throat, she expected terror.

She felt the power in him, pulsing under his skin, twirling in the air around them. He probably thought he could best her. But she had her own powers, and not just her skill with a knife.

“You don’t need to know my name.”

In a flash of movement, he pushed her off him, surprising her with his strength and speed. She possessed far more strength than an ordinary human, even more than most of the beings she hunted. But this man was strong.

He tried to pin her, but she kicked at him. Her foot connected with a rock-hard stomach. She heard her father’s voice in her head, intoning her training. If he were here, he’d berate her for playing with her target.

Get the job done, assassin. Fast and clean.

Her knife flashed in the darkness. She aimed for the man’s throat, but at the last minute he dodged. The blade sank deep into his shoulder.

Chapter Two

Samia heard the man grunt. A strong wind swirled around them and his body faded, as if the wind was taking him away.

Damn. He’d escaped. She was left holding nothing but her bloody knife.

She watched the blood drip down the hilt and over her fingers. Bile rose in her throat and another scene shot through her head.

A young face, lifeless. Innocent blood on her hands.

Strong arms clamped around her from behind. She was tugged back into the hard planes of a big body.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

She didn’t buck against him, she stilled. Patience was an assassin’s most valuable skill. “I wasn’t trying to be nice.”

His breath brushed over her ear. “My name’s Dante.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Venti.” She had an inch-thick file on Dante Auster Venti, Keeper of the South Wind. He and his brothers were Italy’s most eligible bachelors—rich, good-looking. But few knew what hid beneath their wealthy-playboy personas.

“I’d like to know why you’re trying to kill me,” he said in a silky voice.

“Because you’re dangerous.” She needed to remind herself that the job she did was important. Someone had to take down the strong beings that hurt those less powerful.

His lips brushed her temple. “No argument there, but the same could be said about you.”

His words were like a slashing knife to her chest. “I don’t hurt innocents.” She closed her eyes. Except for one terrible mistake.

“I don’t, either.”

His voice sounded sincere and she detected no lies. Her heart kicked against her ribs. He was trying to trick her. When her victims saw their death in her eyes, they tried anything to escape.

But at this moment, this man had the upper hand. Why try to convince her of his innocence?

The elders had told her he had killed, used his powers against humans. From the brotherhood enclave in Morocco, they always researched a case beyond reasonable doubt before assigning it to an assassin. They were never wrong. “That’s not what I’ve been told.”

“Who do you work for?” he asked.

She remained silent. The brotherhood was so secret little was known about it in the outside world. It was the way they liked it.

One big hand slid over her belly, fingers splaying over the inch of bare skin between her black T-shirt and dark pants.

“Who do you work for?” he repeated.

She couldn’t have answered if she’d wanted to. The feel of his warm skin against hers shattered her concentration. Heat, strong and intense, burned in her belly.

What was wrong with her? She jerked against him. Not once had she allowed herself to be distracted on a mission. Especially not by a man.

And not by someone she’d been sent to kill.

He spun her and forced her to her knees. She tried to move, but a heavy gust of wind held her in place. She felt the strength of his power wrap around her.

His gold-brown eyes were cool, yet somehow burned with an inner fire. Like something very dangerous lurked inside him.

Then, with the sharp instincts that made her an excellent assassin and kept her alive, Samia noted something else.

This man didn’t have the eyes of a killer.

Oh, he looked like a man capable of killing, but not one who’d take the life of an innocent for pleasure.

No. That couldn’t be.

“Fine. I’ll find my own answers.” His hand gripped the neckline of her shirt and with a twist of his wrist, he tore it open.

She gasped. The neckline ripped a few inches, gaping. He flicked the black fabric away and exposed her tattoo.

The black stylized writing was Arabic calligraphy and sat above her left breast. It spelled the word death and was the symbol of the brotherhood.

He gripped her shirt tighter and dragged her closer. His fingers were warm against her skin. “You’re Hashshashin.”

Shock tore through Samia’s system, her pulse increased. Few knew their name. She fought to keep her face impassive.

“I know your people pride themselves on being shadows.” He released her, but the wind held her body in place. “But an organization can’t exist for a thousand years and think no one’s going to learn about them.”

He paced away, then turned to face her. He was a magnificent example of manhood—broad-shouldered, his dark trousers outlining lean hips and long legs. Again Samia felt heat wash over her. She was incredibly aware of him, in a way she’d never been before with any man.

“So, Signorina Assassin, are you going to tell me why I have a price on my head?”

She lifted her chin. “You control the wind.”

He put a hand out, palm up, then lifted his arm. The wind around her lifted her to her feet. Like a damned puppet on a string. She shot him a fierce scowl.

He titled his head. “That’s hardly a killing offense.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You infect humans with the darkness the wind carries.”

He strode up to her, leaned his face close to hers. “I fight the darkness of the wind every hour of every day. You aren’t describing me—, you’re describing the evil I hunt.”

Her stomach did a quick tumble. The elders never made mistakes. “I don’t believe you.”

“And yet, I’m telling you the truth.”

Something in that deep voice, in those cognac eyes, made her want to believe him. Impossible. There was no way the elders had sent her after an innocent.

The young boy’s face came back to her. Ruthlessly she pushed it away.

“Who hired you?” Dante demanded.

She remained silent.

He reached out, stroked a finger down her face. The touch was shocking, electric.

“Assassin’s code, right? Don’t give up the client’s name.”

His finger ran along her cheekbone, across her lips, down to the fluttering pulse in her throat. She tried to ignore the heat that followed the touch.

He leaned closer, his lips a breath from hers. “Give me his name.”

She locked her jaw and fought against the power holding her. Dante’s presence enveloped her—his sensual cologne, his smooth voice, the swell of his power. She felt her body strain toward him, as if it had a mind of its own, as if it wanted his touch.

Oh, God, something was horribly wrong with her.

Dante’s lips brushed hers, a feather-light caress. She sucked in a startled breath, her eyes locked with his. Inside, something shifted and wanted closer. She had a crazy urge to press her lips to his.

He pulled back. “I am more powerful than you can imagine.” His face took on a stark edge and his eyes darkened. “You were stupid to pit yourself against me.”

Samia watched something ripple over his face. Something scary.

“The Hashshashin have always been arrogant,” he said. His hands gripped her upper arms, digging into her skin with such force she knew she’d have bruises.

Then he shook his head and muttered under his breath. A muscle jumped beneath his eye and he appeared to be struggling for control.

His fingers loosened and he smoothed his hand over her skin, almost like an apology. “Just tell me who hired you and I’ll let you go.”

Samia knew when to cut her losses. If she had any chance of completing her mission, she needed to get away from him and regroup. “A man named Africus.”

Dante cursed. Suddenly the wind holding Samia captive dropped away. She braced her legs to avoid falling.

He faced her. “I know you’re a killing machine, but Africus is a danger to you. He is one of the Tempest Winds.”

Killing machine. She ignored the ache his words generated. He was right. She was nothing but a weapon. Instead, she focused on what he’d said.

Tempest Winds? She remembered a vague reference to them in her file. “I have no quarrel with him.”

“I suggest you find another assignment and stay out of my way, Hashshashin.”

Samia needed to prove she still had what it took to be an assassin. She couldn’t go back a failure. “My assignment is to kill you.”

“I’m warning you.” He loomed over her. “I can’t let you get in the way of my duty.”

“And I can’t let you get in the way of mine.”

A scowl cut across his face. “What am I going to do about you?”

Samia called on her power and used her ability of camouflage to melt into the shadows. “Watch your back, because I’m coming for you.”

Dante watched the assassin disappear into the night.

So, he wasn’t the only one with power. His wind whispered she was still close, and he smelled her. An exotic scent, like the sweet scent of jasmine carried on a desert breeze. It seeped into him, warming his body.

“Africus will drive people to kill. It’s what he does.” Dante glanced around, wondering if the lovely assassin was listening to him. Could she make her own decisions, or was she only able to follow orders?

He didn’t have time to waste dealing with her. Every minute he was distracted was another minute Africus could use to kill.

“Stay out of my way.” He called on the wind. It swirled up around him, powerful and primal. It rushed over his skin, and with a single thought he let himself blend with it. His body dissolved away, leaving only his soul to travel on the air.

He soared through the Forum and back into the modern city streets. He followed the trail of his prey and tried to push the distracting thoughts of the woman out of his head.

Africus was wily to send a Hashshashin after him. The organization had been created during the Crusades and had built a deadly reputation for producing talented killers. Luca was right. The Venti Tempesta were using dangerous tactics to win this time.

Dante had never expected an assassin to be quite so alluring. Her image rose in his mind. Impossibly sharp cheekbones, midnight-black hair cut short, a long elegant neck and a lean body, all of which ignited his interest.

Her lush lips were at odds with the carved face. He’d just brushed her mouth with his, but it had been enough to get a taste of her. Cool, refreshing, energizing.

And her slanted bronze eyes. They were haunting, with such sadness swimming in them.

The Tempest Winds were loose and here he was obsessing over a woman sent to kill him.

As he put more distance between himself and the assassin, he felt pride tug at him with insistent hands. Like a seductive lover whispering tempting promises. A heavy weariness descended and made him want to give in. To just accept the pride and give up the soul-destroying battle.

Maledizione. He needed to get some rest soon or he’d be no match for Africus.

Dante materialized in a dark alley, then strode out into a piazza. A fountain bubbled in the center of the cobblestone square, and the restaurants lining it were slowing down for the evening, only a few diners left hovering over their desserts and espressos.

The sound of crashing plates and raised voices caught his attention. Across the piazza, he saw two men swinging their fists. One tackled the other to the ground, a woman screamed.

Dante’s gaze drifted beyond the fight. In the shadow of the fountain, he saw a tall man with shoulder-length blond hair watching the conflict.

Africus.

Moving fast, Dante headed for the Tempest Wind. But before he reached him, the brawling men and their onlookers barreled into his path.

He felt their boiling emotions. Hatred and anger entwined with pride. Africus was feeding them, encouraging the fight.

“I’ll make you wish you hadn’t insulted my country.” A short stocky man with a heavy British accent threw a punch at a taller Italian man.

The tall man dodged. “You come here and enjoy our country, then insult our women.” The man dived, taking the other to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

The dark energy spilled into Dante, flooding his system.

Dio. All his nerves vibrated with indecision. He wanted to skirt the fight and attack Africus, but he knew he should stop the men.

The fight escalated, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the square. The others watching started to feel the infection of pride, their shouts growing angry. A darker part of Dante urged him to ignore these small humans—they were beneath his notice.

The smell of blood rose. No! Dante couldn’t let them kill one another.

Let them. They deserve it. Dante looked up and his gaze clashed with Africus’s. The blond wind smiled.

Big bronze eyes full of grief flashed in Dante’s head. He lifted a hand, touched the tear in his shirt and the already healing cut. If he left these men, he’d be just what the lovely assassin believed him to be. He leaned down and ripped the brawlers apart.

Tossing the local to the side, Dante waved a hand and barked in Italian. Then he gripped the tourist by the lapels of his shirt, dangling him an inch off the ground. The man’s right eye was swelling closed and his split lips were bleeding.

“I suggest you get your wife and leave.” Dante thrust the man toward a woman wringing her hands under the awning of a restaurant.

The man scowled and opened his mouth.

Dante straightened to his full six feet two inches. “Go.”

The man swallowed, then grabbed his weeping wife and left. The crowd dissipated.

The situation diffused, Dante swung back to the fountain. Africus was gone.

Damn. Dante’s neck throbbed. He sent out the wind, hoping his enemy hadn’t gone far. But the wind found no sign of his scent.

Jaw tight, Dante headed through the square, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to give chase, continue searching the streets and alleys until he picked up his prey’s trail.

But Dante knew if didn’t get some sleep, some rest from the constant war inside him, Africus would win this fight before it even began.

Dio, he wanted to fight, not rest. But he couldn’t risk succumbing to the pride, as he’d almost done in the piazza.

Reluctantly, Dante headed in the direction of the apartment Luca kept in Rome. Venti Enterprises’ head office was in the city and Luca spent most of his time here overseeing all the arms of their vast business empire.

Stalking down a darkened street, Dante thought of his brothers. Did they feel their respective vices twisting inside them like a wild animal? Lust for Antonio, anger for Luca and greed for Soren. Did these vices whisper beguiling promises and tempt them to give in?

He expelled a breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. He would beat this, whatever the cost.

Something tickled along his senses, like the familiar kiss of the wind.

His assassin was back.

He continued walking, not giving away that he knew she was there. Damn the woman for not listening to him.

Why are you worried? She is no match for your strength.

He wasn’t worried about her killing him. What worried him was that she was a tempting complication he didn’t have time for. He tried to spot her in the shadows, but her camouflage was too good.

But she couldn’t hide from the wind. A small smile edged his lips.

Chapter Three

Dante kept his power gentle, nothing more than a small stir of the air. It brought him her scent, sweet and luscious. And her location.

Slowly he pulled his hands out of his pockets. Then he spun and reached into the darkness.

His hands closed around slim biceps. He heard her gasp.

The struggle was brief. She was strong—stronger than a woman, stronger than most men—but she was no match for him.

As he stared into her face, the voices in his head receded. Pride, for once, was silent.

He tugged her close and the knife in her hand clattered to the ground. “I told you to stay away.”

“You didn’t expect me to listen, did you?” she spat.

He saw the anger burning in her eyes. The little assassin didn’t like losing the upper hand. But other emotions swam in those bronze eyes, pulling him in. Had he ever seen anyone so lonely, so haunted?

He understood what it was to hold yourself apart from others. He and his brothers did business, mingled at parties, took lovers, but they never let anyone truly close. No one understood what it was to hold power. Or to have to keep that power in check every day.

But Dante suspected this woman knew what it felt like.

Wondering how many weapons she had hidden under her form-fitting black clothes, he pushed her up against the wall of a nearby building.

He ran his hands down her sides, over her curved hips. His palms slid across a toned belly and lean thighs. He detached another knife strapped to her thigh and slipped it into his pocket. “Can’t have you stabbing me again.”

Continuing the search, he tugged a slim garroting wire from her pocket. He skimmed a hand across her small waistline, touching a strip of bare flesh. She felt like heaven—slim, toned and enticing. His body responded, hardening, every inch of him aware of her.

“Stop,” she whispered, voice choked.

Dante realized his search had turned into a caress. His hands were exploring, his mind memorizing the feel of her. He cleared his throat and stepped back.

What to do with her? He couldn’t afford to have her darting out of the shadows, distracting him from his hunt. She might get him killed. Or get herself killed.

“You don’t leave me much choice, assassin.” In a swift move, he wrapped his hands around her waist and threw her over his shoulder.

She kicked and beat her hands against his back. “Put me down!”

He slapped her shapely backside. “I don’t think so.”

“I will make you pay for this.”

The vehemence in her voice made him believe it. But not until he’d taken care of Africus.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

“Somewhere I can lock you up and keep you out of trouble.”

He heard her spit out a curse in Arabic. He strolled into the Campo de’ fiori, a beautiful piazza lined by historic buildings. The cafés and wine bars were still busy and a few diners cast startled glances at them.

A statue dominated the square, the shadowy figure of the monk Giordano Bruno. It stood in the spot where the monk has been burned at the stake for heresy, his captors infected by the vices of the Tempest Winds the last time they’d escaped their prison.

It was a reminder to Dante just how important it was he didn’t fail.

“Buona sera, Signor Venti.” An eager young doorman held the door to his building open. His white smile was wide as he took in the woman draped over Dante’s shoulder. “A beautiful evening, no?”

The woman gave another kick and Dante subdued her, his hands biting into the backs of her thighs. “Ciao, Paolo.”

The young man was too well trained to ask any questions. Dante moved across the elegant foyer and into the elevator. Paolo was still smiling as the elevator doors closed.

Moments later, Dante strode into the apartment. Luca had bought all the dwellings on the top floor of the old building and knocked the walls down to form one large apartment. He’d managed to modernize it without losing the historic charm.

Suddenly Dante’s tiredness crashed down on him. He didn’t stop in the stylish living room or admire the stunning view of the dome of St. Peter’s framed by the French doors. He continued down the short hall and into the master bedroom.

He dumped the assassin on the bed and watched her bounce.

It was then he noticed a startling fact. As soon as he was no longer touching her, the pride-filled whispers crowded his ears again. They bombarded him with nasty suggestions that a part of him wanted to believe.

Reaching down, he gripped her arm.

“Don’t touch me.” She tried to jerk out of his hold.

He held fast and marveled. The voices dimmed and faded away.

Incredibile. Somehow, touching this woman held the pride at bay.

Samia watched Dante Venti looking at her as if he’d been smacked upside the head.

She had no idea what was wrong with him, but she was getting out of here. Out of the corner of her eye, she searched for a weapon. There was nothing in arm’s reach except the silk covers on the big bed.

She couldn’t believe he’d captured her. She’d made mistakes an apprentice assassin wouldn’t make. Not once in her career had she ever allowed herself to be caught. If her father ever found out, his displeasure would be unbearable.

Samia was very afraid she’d lost her edge. Lost it in the blood of a ten-year-old boy. She squeezed her eyes closed. If she couldn’t kill, she’d be tossed out of the Hashshashin, the only family she’d ever known.

Fingers pressed against her cheek, she opened her eyes. Dante stared at her, then pulled his hand back. After a second, he reached out again, cupping her jaw. She froze, staring at the strange look in his eye.

She had to kill this man. If she wanted to see pride in her father’s eyes, she had to complete her mission.

And what if he’s as innocent as that boy? She’d watched from the shadows as he’d pulled apart the fighting men in the piazza. He hadn’t hurt either of them, or let them hurt each other.

What kind of killer did that?

Indecision churned in her gut. For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to do.

Dante shifted and sat beside her, keeping his hand pressed to her face. His warm thigh pressed against her leg.

Wings took flight in her belly and flames licked along her nerves. What was it about this man? She’d never been so attracted to anyone before.

“Who are you?” His voice was low.

She felt a stir in the air around them. The temperature in the room rose. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. If you kill me, they’ll only send another.”

Death didn’t frighten her. It was her life…and death. She looked down at her hands. They were covered in the blood of so many.

Dante’s fingers stroked over her skin. “Are you that expendable to them?”

She glanced up. “Yes.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I’m just a weapon. The killing machine you accused me of being.” Nothing more, not even to her father.

Dante’s jaw tightened. “You’re a human being.” His finger skimmed a lock of her hair. “And your eyes are so sad.”

Her stomach clenched and she turned her head. The man saw too much.

“Tell me your name?”

She opened her mouth to refuse him, but instead, the words tumbled out. “Samia. Samia Hassan.”

“Samia.” He murmured her name, as though rolling it on his tongue, savoring its sound. “Where are you from?”

She shrugged. “Nowhere.” The brotherhood was based in Morocco, but she traveled the world and didn’t have a home.

“And what are you, Samia Hassan?”

She frowned. “You already know I am Hashshashin.”

He leaned closer. “No, I mean what kind of being?”

She was silent. She had no idea what she was, and over the past three months, there were days she wasn’t even sure who she was. One slip of the knife and the identity she’d clung to all her life had slipped away.

“I’ll make you answer my questions if I have to.”

She sighed. “My father is human. Born and raised by the brotherhood.”

“And your mother?”

Samia dropped her gaze. “I don’t know, I never knew her.”

“But the Hashshashin have a tradition of breeding with beings of power.” He forced her to meet his gaze. “You have an exceptional ability to blend into the shadows. Your father must have mentioned what she was.”

All Samia knew of her mother was that she’d gladly accepted the money Samia’s father had paid her to have sex, give birth and hand her daughter over without a backward glance. Samia tried to pull away from Dante. “Why is my heritage so important to you?”

He yanked her closer, until she was plastered against his chest, her legs tangling with his. “Because every time I touch you, I feel the vice that strangles me every day fade away.”

Chapter Four

At Dante’s tortured confession, Samia’s heart contracted. “What are you talking about?”

“You ease my burden.”

The air in the room was sucked away. She searched his face and suddenly saw how tired he looked. Lines of strain bracketed his eyes and mouth.

Could his words be true? “Which vice does your wind carry?”

He expelled a slow breath. “Pride. From the day I inherited my power, I have fought to control it. But with the Tempest Winds free, it’s much stronger.”

Could this man really be innocent? Was he only trying to save people, not hurt them? She knew how powerful he was. She’d never been caught before, yet here she was, a captive in his home.

If he lost the battle with pride, how much damage could he do? He’d admitted the darkness tempted him.

Except when he touched her.

He watched her with golden eyes tinged with desperation. A lump lodged in her tight throat. She was a killer. How could she calm anybody?

Yet she felt it. An insane need to soothe away his pain. To run her fingers over the lines on his tense face and see if they melted away.

Don’t let yourself be vulnerable, Samia. She forced her mind to clear. Maybe this was just a clever way to lure her into dropping her mission. “How is this possible?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.” He pressed a hand to his temple. “There’s something in my ancestor’s memories, but it’s too far back to be clear.”

“Well, I don’t have any answers for you.” She was letting herself be drawn in too close. She needed to get away. Not only to clear herself of this sensual spell he cast on her, but also to contact the brotherhood.

She needed to find out if any of Dante Venti’s story was true, because there was no way she’d survive killing another innocent.

When she saw the hilt of her dagger protruding from his pocket, she saw her opportunity. In a swift move, she grabbed the knife and pressed it to his heart.

He didn’t react, just watched her with that steady gaze.

“I need to go.” She shifted to the very edge of the bed.

“Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Damn him for sounding amused. “I need to find out the truth first.” She stood, keeping the knife pressed against his chest.

“Samia, I brought you here to keep you out of my way.” He stood and stepped forward until the knife bit into his skin. “Now I need to keep you for a very different reason.”

He moved so fast she didn’t have time to react. His hand gripped her wrist and his other arm wrapped around her waist. The stinging pain in her wrist made the knife fall to the floor.

Damn him. She’d never been disarmed so many times by the same person before. When she felt Dante’s fingers tug at the hem of her shirt, panic spurted into her veins. “What the hell are you doing?”

He yanked the shirt over her head and went to work on her pants. “I figure being naked might make you think twice about escaping.”

He left her in only a black bra and matching panties. She tried to elbow him in the gut, but he dodged. She tried every other move she’d been taught over the years, but it was as if he read her mind, anticipating her every move.

When he unhooked her bra, she struggled like a wild woman, twisting her body, trying to escape him. He held her with alarming ease. She’d never felt so helpless. She watched him reach out and grab the silken ties holding the curtains back.

With both of the ties in his hand, he maneuvered her toward the bed. Her skin flushed hot, then cold. “What are you doing?”

He pushed her down on the silk covers and gripped one of her wrists, his other hand splayed on her bare belly. She watched his gaze drift to her breasts, saw heat flare in the depths of his eyes. Molten warmth rushed into her face.

He began to tie her wrist to the intricate metal headboard. She slapped at him with her hand.

“I can’t let Africus win.” He finished the knot and went to work on her other wrist. “I’ll use everything I can to ensure I defeat him.” He sat back, leaving her arms stretched out above her head. “Even you.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and again she noticed how weary he looked. He stood, scooped her clothes off the floor, then strode out of the room.

Samia fought her bindings, but the knots held tight. She slumped back. Dante was back before she could formulate a plan. He towered over the bed, then began unbuttoning his white shirt.

Her nostrils flared. She watched his sculpted body come into view. Bronze skin stretched over a six-pack abdomen and a light dusting of dark hair covered his pectorals. She noticed the wound where she’d stabbed him had already healed.

He tossed the shirt on the floor. “I need some respite from my struggle and it seems only you can give it to me.”

Samia gasped, her throat dust dry. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant, did he? Shocked, she watched him slip out of his trousers, leaving him in midnight-blue boxers. He stepped closer to the bed.

A part of her cried in pain, screamed that this man would use her. Just as her father and the brotherhood used her to kill.

But another part of her stilled and waited. That part of her wanted Dante. Wanted to offer him the comfort he needed.

Dante watched Samia’s eyes widen until they filled her face. He saw a confusing mix of emotions cross her features.

“So you’ll use me, then?” Her voice was low, strained. “You don’t know anything about me, but you’ll take what you need from me.”

Like all the others. The unspoken words hung between them. He wondered how many others had used her for her skills. Hired her to kill without ever once wondering what toll the killing took on her.

It was clear this assassin was neither cold nor unfeeling. Her eyes showed she felt too much.

“I just need sleep, Samia.”

“You don’t plan to rape me?”

He scowled at her. “I don’t need to force a woman.”

Her gaze moved over his bare chest and down his body, leaving him edgy and wanting.

“No, I guess you don’t,” she said quietly.

Was that disappointment in her voice? Dante decided tiredness was playing games with his mind. That and the insistent whispers of pride.

“I just want to lie beside you. I need some rest.” He didn’t move. He wanted her to realize he was giving her a choice. “If I don’t recharge, I’ll succumb to the pride the minute I confront Africus.”

She stared at him for an eternity before giving him a small nod.

Desperate to make the voices go away, he stretched out beside her. He felt her tense. He turned off the bedside lamp and moved in close to her. Instantly the pride dissipated and he released a deep breath.

How was it possible? He’d never heard of another being able to calm the vices.

Lying in the darkness, he noticed other sensations. His side was touching one of her full breasts, skin to tantalizing skin. That sweet jasmine smell of her. Her slim legs close to his.

Desire punched through him, hot and hard. His body tightened painfully. It seemed he’d swapped one struggle for another. Stripping her naked except for tiny black panties may not have been the best idea.

He wouldn’t take advantage of her. He wouldn’t let pride goad him into believing he had the right to touch her or use her. And he wouldn’t let her delectable body lure him away from his duty.

Africus was out there and the longer he was free, the more people he’d hurt. Horrific memories of the past flashed behind Dante’s eyelids—good people driven to do gruesome acts, families destroyed, lives lost.

He closed his eyes and tried to relax. But with Samia’s scent taunting him, it seemed impossible. Tension throbbed through his body.

He wouldn’t fail his brothers. “If I don’t stop Africus, if my brothers and I can’t defeat the Tempest Winds, the world is in terrible danger.” His voice filled the darkness. “They will start in Italy, then spread their infection across Europe, across the world.”

“How can you stop them?”

“Once we release them from their human bodies, my brothers and I can lock them away with a vicious storm. Their prison is an island near Sicily, Isola del Vento. Their warden is the immortal Keeper of the Winds.”

“He sounds formidable.”

Dante smiled. “She. And she is formidable.” Then he remembered that the cool, beautiful Livia Cavalli had lost her immortality. “Actually, we’ll select a new Keeper. The current Keeper is human again.” And planning to marry Rafe Donovan, Luca’s best horse trainer from the Venti horse-breeding operation.

Samia shifted. “What will happen if the Tempest Winds succeed?”

Dante hoped none of them would ever have to find out. “In rage, brother will kill brother. In lust, friend will rape friend. In greed, parent will steal from child. In pride, neighbor will destroy neighbor.” He pressed a hand to her side, to her satin-smooth skin, amazed that this woman could beat back what had haunted him all his life. “I have to be strong enough to stop it.”

Silence wrapped around them. Then she broke it. “I understand. That’s why the Hashshashin exist. From the time we can walk, we are taught every possible way to take a life. We hone those skills with daily combat. We hunt the evil too powerful for humans to stop.”

Dante stared at the shadows wavering on the ceiling. Both of them existed for the same purpose. But he had grown up raised with love, with parents who’d cared right up to the day they’d died in a car accident. Even then, he’d always had his brothers to stand beside him.

Who did Samia have? She was given orders and sent out alone. “Do you like killing?”

“I’m good at it.” There was a quiver in her voice.

“But do you like it?”

“I…I used to.”

Dante moved a little closer to her. “What changed?”

“I killed an innocent boy.” Her words were blank, empty of emotion.

Here was what put the sadness in her eyes. “Tell me.”

She inhaled a slow breath. “His father was a man who dabbled with powerful magic, using it to seduce women. He’d become a serial rapist. I was sent to stop him.”

Dante slid his palm up and down her arm. “What happened?”

“The boy leaped in front of his father to defend him. I couldn’t stop.”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t offer her anything else. He knew nothing he said would ease her pain. Only time would dull it.

“My father told me that taking one innocent life to save hundreds was worth it.” Her voice hitched. “Collateral damage.”

Bastard. Her father sounded like the Hashshashin Dante had heard about. “Hurting the innocent is never necessary.”

“I see that boy’s eyes in my head every time I try to sleep. I haven’t killed since I took his life. I’ve tried.”

“I know.”

She gave a hiccupping laugh, then her voice sobered. “I wanted to kill again because I don’t know how to do anything else. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

He rubbed her arm. “You have a choice, Samia. To find what and who you want to be.”

There was a moment’s silence. “You’re more powerful than any being I’ve been sent after. I know you can stop Africus.”

Dante gave a humorless laugh. “Forever fighting the nature of what’s inside me—and the temptation to embrace it—makes me feel weak.”

Her warm breath fluttered over his shoulder. “Get some rest, Dante.”

Her soft words wrapped around him, a balm to his restless body and mind. He wrapped his arms around her and let her warmth soothe him.

Chapter Five

Blinding sunlight woke Samia. Keeping her eyes shut, she tried to move, but one arm wouldn’t budge.

She opened her eyes, blinking against the light shining through a slit in the curtains. Looking down, she saw a dark head nestled between her breasts.

The events of the night rushed through her like a high-speed train. Sometime during the night, Dante had untied her wrists from the bed and tied one of them to his. He was still asleep, his warm breath tickling her nipple.

God. His thick black hair was stark against her skin. The warm skin of his chest felt exquisite against her belly. Liquid heat pooled between her legs.

She stared at the half of the dark angel face she could see. The lines of strain were gone and he looked relaxed, younger. And he’d found that rest by lying beside her.

A woman with death running in her veins had given another being comfort. A new experience for her. Not once had she ever been needed, other than to kill.

Sometime during the night, she’d started to believe that this man was what he said he was. He was no killer of innocents. He was a man who protected them.

Anger thrummed through her. The Hashshashin had been duped by the Tempest Winds. Her brotherhood had been played, their reputation tarnished. She would help Dante hunt Africus. Not just for revenge, but because she knew Dante needed her help. He needed her.

She moved her free hand and ran her fingers through the dark silk of his thick hair.

His golden eyes opened and she froze. He moved his head and looked up at her. Then his gaze drifted back to the bare breast in front of him.

Samia’s nipples hardened and her skin flushed with heat. His gaze was enough to sensitize her skin, enough to make every cell quiver.

“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward and closed his mouth over her breast.

The sensation was shocking. Samia bucked, delicious heat pouring through her. His tongue swirled, tugged. His teeth nipped, then he soothed again with his tongue.

She moaned, breathless and hungry. Something inside her strained for him; something wild recognized him. He groaned and switched to her other taut nipple, teeth scraping. The dazzling sensations arrowed down her body, leaving slick heat between her legs.

He moved his body fully onto hers, his lean hips settling into the cradle of hers. When his thick erection brushed against her core, even through the thin silk of her panties and the fabric of his boxers, she gave a husky cry. Flames licked at her skin, her body on fire.

Dante thrust against her, his big body tense. His erection pressed harder against her folds, a taunting promise. Helpless, she rubbed against him. She wanted to scream at him, beg him to do something to stop the ache inside her.

“You are so beautiful, bella.” His mouth nipped at her neck, his tongue ran across her shoulder. “So perfectly formed.”

Her breath hitched. No one had ever called her by an endearment, not even when she was a child. He moved again and his mouth captured hers.

The touch of his lips was electric. The force of the kiss pressed her into the pillow. His tongue danced with hers, then his teeth nipped her bottom lip.

She felt possessed. It was as if he needed to touch, taste and feel every inch of her, to memorize her body. She was lost in the chaos of pleasure his every touch brought her.

His heart thundered against hers. His lips trailed over her face, down her neck. He shifted his big body down and his chest hair scraped over her tight nipples, causing luscious friction. He pressed little kisses over her breasts, down her tight belly. His clever tongue traced the light ridges of her toned stomach, then delved into her navel.

“Your skin is so smooth, so soft.”

Samia tossed her head back. It was all too much. She knew she wasn’t soft, she was hard and empty. Yet his touch, his words, filled her and made her feel whole.

He was seducing her, playing her body like a virtuoso. She was drunk on arousal and the raging desire tearing through her. When his mouth laved the inside of her thigh, she jerked in unbearable anticipation. She knew she should stop this ruthless assault on her senses. She’d been sent to kill this man, not love him.

His finger brushed over the edge of her panties and her body tensed. She looked at his dark head nestled between her thighs, the skin stretched taut across his high cheekbones.

“Bella,” he breathed as his finger nudged her panties aside, baring her to his view. “I have to taste you.”

She watched him bend his head, her nerves stretching to breaking point.

The first lap of his tongue was shocking. She bucked, her heels digging into the bed. His tongue stabbed into her, his free hand gripping her thigh. Her body vibrated. She was so wet, her body clenching.

He continued feasting on her, a low growl echoing in his throat. His tongue swirled around the small nub at the top of her sex.

“It’s too much.” She bit down on her lip, her breath caught in her throat. “I can’t take anymore.”

“Si, yes you can.” His voice was low, stark. He continued tormenting her. “Say my name, Samia. I want you to know who is pleasuring you.”

Her lips parted and the intense pressure building in her had her eyelids drifting low.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“Dante.” Their eyes locked. “Dante.”

He flicked again at the hard nub, then suckled on it, hurling her into orgasm.

She screamed. Fiery heat cascaded over her, crashed down and swept her away. Her vision blurred and she closed her eyes.

Pleasure hummed through her, little aftershocks shivering across her skin. When she could finally think again, she opened her eyes and looked at Dante.

His body was rigid, covering her like a big predator. He looked as if he was fighting for control. His gaze traveled over her body and settled on the cord binding her wrist to his.

His face went blank. He off her, his movements jerky. With a quick flick of his free hand, he untied their wrists and stood.

Samia still couldn’t believe the pleasure he’d shown her. She rarely had the time or inclination for men. Her few forays into sex had left her wondering why people spent so much time and energy on it. But Dante knew her body better than she did. Her gaze dipped to the massive bulge in the front of his boxers. Desire ignited again, deep and hard. For once, she was putting her needs ahead of the brotherhood’s, ahead of her mission, ahead of her duty. She wanted Dante to give her more, to show her more.

With a curse, he turned and stalked to the window. He jerked open the curtains, letting the Italian sun pour into the room. He stood there, a dark silhouette against the light.

Samia swallowed, suddenly feeling very naked. Desire dimmed. It was obvious he wasn’t feeling what she felt. She fought to control the color flooding her cheeks.

Gripping one corner of the bedcover, she tugged it across her naked body. She wasn’t going to sit here and act embarrassed about the fact he’d made her come.

“I’m sorry, Samia. I never meant for this to get so…out of hand.”

She cleared her aching throat. He was going to ruin the most pleasurable, intimate thing she’d ever shared with another person. “Please, no apologies.”

“I promised not to force you.”

She choked on a laugh. “Did I look like I didn’t want to participate?”

A muscle in his jaw worked. “You were tied up. I took away your choice.”

She was beginning to realize just how wrong she’d been about Dante Venti. He was good, decent and so very noble. “Forget it.”

“I have to find Africus. There is no room for anything else.”

Moving to the edge of the bed, she turned her back on him. He had no room for her. A quiet hurt settled around her heart.

Her father had told her similar words when she’d tried to deepen their relationship. He’d only been interested in making her the best killer he could.

She’d been trained her entire life to put the mission first, to suppress all her personal needs. She could hardly blame Dante for doing the same. “I understand.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “I doubt that.”

It was time for her to do what she did best. “You have a duty.” She looked over her shoulder, saw him watching her. “I want to help you.”

A frown settled on his face. “What?”

She stood, dragging the cover with her, wrapping it toga-style around her body. “Africus has manipulated the brotherhood.” He’d almost made her kill an innocent man. “He’s dangerous and must be stopped.”

“This is my fight.”

She tilted her head. “I’m the best of the Hashshashin. I can help you.”

Dante considered her words, then he straightened. “I don’t need any help.”

Samia gripped the cover tighter. “Is that you or the pride speaking?”

Breath whistled through his teeth.

“I have other skills apart from camouflage,” she said. “I can follow a trail no one else sees. I can track Africus.” She smiled at him. “And I can help you control the pride.”

He turned back to the window, staring hard through the glass.

The tense muscles in his back told her she had him. “A good assassin always uses all available resources.”

He turned and gave her a short nod. “Very well. I promise not to touch you again.”

He couldn’t know how much those words cut her. Like everyone else, he only wanted her for her ability to kill.

“He came this way.”

Dante watched Samia kneel down and press her fingers to the cobblestone street. Unable to control it, his gaze wandered over her, tracing her slim body, now unfortunately clothed.

Dio, he could still taste her, feel her satin skin, hear her cries as she found her release.

She looked up, her eyes locking with his. “The trail is hours old.”

Dante cursed. Not just his prey, but himself. He should never have touched Samia. Now as they searched the streets, all he could think about was her.

He should have locked her away as he’d planned and continued the search for Africus alone. He pulled in a deep breath. Here he was, focused on her and not his duty.

“I will see if the wind can find him.” Dante summoned the South Wind. It blew up around them, ruffling Samia’s dark hair. He prayed for it to soothe him, to ease the desire still churning in his system.

But his wind was made of the warm southern air that blew up from Africa. It simply made his heated body hotter. With a jerk of his arm, he sent it out. “Find him.”

Moments later it came back. Nothing. Nothing but frustration.

“We’ve been at this for hours with nothing to show.” Dante resisted the urge to thrust a fist into a nearby wall.

Samia stood and turned in a slow circle, scanning the surroundings. “I don’t give up. Ever.” She headed off down a narrow side street. “This way.”

He had no idea what she sensed, but he followed.

No words passed between them and Samia seemed as reluctant as he to break the silence. He knew she felt the tension stretching between them. Was she thinking of what had happened? How she’d flown apart in his arms?

Dante wasn’t sure he’d ever forget the look in her eyes. The stunned pleasure. He’d realized he’d given her something she’d never felt before. And when he’d realized he’d given it to her while she was tied up like an animal, he’d been ashamed.

He studied her as they walked, bathed in the afternoon sun. Her face was set in concentration and her dark hair feathered around it. He’d always preferred women with long locks, but the short style suited Samia, accented her sharp cheekbones. She was really quite beautiful.

She glanced at him, and again he thought how heartbreaking those eyes were. He knew a young boy’s death had put most of the pain there, but what other horrors lurked in her past?

He’d hurt her when he’d pulled away from her earlier. Something he hadn’t meant to do. He’d thought he was doing the right thing. He wanted her to see he wouldn’t use her the way she’d been used all her life.

But isn’t that what he was doing now? Using her to find Africus?

A vibration in his pocket broke his dark thoughts. He pulled his cell phone out and looked at the screen. “I have to take this.”

With a nod, Samia walked away. A few feet down the street, she paused, studying the ground.

Dante snapped open the phone. “Venti.”

“What took you so long?”

“Ciao, Luca. I’m fine, how are you?”

His brother heaved a sigh. “Mi spiace. The anger…”

“I know.” Dante knew Luca was straining under the growing fury, heard it in his voice. “Have you found Caecius? What about Soren and Antonio?”

Another sigh. “Caecius can’t run forever, and Soren is closing in on Apeliotus.”

“And Antonio?”

The silence made Dante’s nerves stretch.

“The lust is bad for Antonio. Corus has gone to ground in Florence and Antonio is barely holding on to his sanity without hurting anyone.”

Antonio was the more relaxed and charming of the brothers. He’d always loved women—plain or pretty, slim or round. It worried Dante that his brother had to deal with his problem alone.

“And you, Dante? How is the pride?”

Dante looked down the street at the woman busy searching for a sign of Africus. “Fine.”

Luca let out a low curse. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m telling the truth, mio fratello. Africus sent a Hashshashin assassin after me—”

This time the North Wind’s curse was long and loud. “Are you injured?”

“No. The assassin is with me. She—”

“She? Not Samia Hassan?”

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “You know of her?”

“You’re lucky to be alive. I hear she’s deadly.”

“She’s helping me find Africus. And more than that, when I touch her, she controls the pride.”

“What?” Luca barked.

“The whispers fade, Luca. The pride dies.”

“Madre del Dio.”

Dante knew his brother well. There was something in his tone. “You know something about this? Tell me.”

♥ Uploaded by Coral ♥

Chapter Six

“A legend. One that speaks of the Aurae.”

Dante gripped the phone. Somehow the name sounded familiar, like the chords of a well-played song. “Who are the Aurae?”

“There’s a myth about a group of women granted control of the breezes for each of the seasons. It was said the women had the power to calm the vices.” Luca pulled in a ragged breath. “The holder of the summer breezes warmed the North Wind, winter breezes cooled the South Wind, spring eased the West and fall fulfilled the East.”

“Why did you never tell us?”

“Because the Aurae died out hundreds of years ago. They mated with humans, their blood thinned and their power vanished. I read it in father’s books, but thought it a fairy tale. Is this assassin human?”

Dante watched Samia kneel again, palm pressed to the ground. “No, she isn’t human, but she has no idea what being her mother was.”

“She must be Aurae, Dante. Use her to help you defeat Africus.”

Use her. As she’d been used by the Hashshashin. Dante knew he should. The fate of the world depended on him defeating Africus.

He watched her turn a corner and disappear down a side alley. Where was she going? “Luca, I have to go. Be careful.”

After closing the phone, Dante strode around the corner.

She stood there, her shoulders stiff. She didn’t turn to face him. “We’re too late.”

Two bodies slumped against the wall of a butter-colored building. They’d fought each other until their faces were unrecognizable.

Dante ground his teeth, his hands curling. It had started. Africus had tasted blood and things would get worse. His infection would gain strength and soon people all over the city would succumb to pride.

Suddenly Samia spun away, her body tensing. She looked like a greyhound sensing the bait. “I have him. I have his trail.”

Dante forced himself to focus back on his job. He would tell Samia of the Aurae later. Right now, he needed to do what he’d been born to do. “Let’s go.”

They broke into a jog. They followed the trail through the streets and piazzas. A few times the scent grew faint, but Samia never gave up. The sun was setting, turning the sky brilliant orange, when they came to a stop in front of the towering edifice of the Colosseum.

Whispers rose up around Dante, like a cloud of dark smoke. Taunting, tempting. Do you think you can best me, WindKeeper?

“He’s inside. I’m going alone from here.”

Samia stiffened, fire sparking in her eyes. “No way, Venti.”

Dante had already decided. Luca had told him to use Samia, but he couldn’t. He held up a hand. “You’ve already helped me, more than I can ever repay. I won’t use you. I won’t let you risk your life.” With that, he let his body melt away, turning to wind.

“No!” she cried.

But he was already moving away, over the tall fence surrounding the monument, then high over the curved walls.

He saw Africus waiting, leaning against a stone wall at one end of the stadium, below the stands where the fans had once cheered on their favorite gladiators.

Nothing remained of the ancient wooden floor of the main arena, which left the underground tunnels and rooms exposed. Once, they’d been filled with gladiators and wild animals waiting to be entertainment for the bloodthirsty crowds.

Dante touched down on the modern walkway crossing the expanse of tunnels. His body solidified and his stride never slowed as he headed for his rival.

“It ends here, Africus.”

Africus’s shoulder-length fall of blond hair framed his pretty, smiling face, adding to the unearthly beauty. It belied the evil dwelling inside him. “Yes. Let’s end this.”

Damn the man! Samia climbed the metal fence surrounding the Colosseum.

He’d said he wouldn’t use her and that made her feel warm inside. But by making the decision to leave her behind, didn’t he realize he’d taken the choice away from her?

She was deciding for herself what she wanted. She wanted to fight at Dante Venti’s side and help him defeat his Tempest Wind.

On the other side of the fence, she dropped the few feet to the ground, crouching low to absorb the impact. Then she was up and running, blending with the shadows to avoid any security guards patrolling the perimeter.

She ran inside the main arena and headfirst into a wall of howling wind. On the other side of the mass of exposed tunnels, she saw Dante and Africus.

The wind screamed like a wild animal, tearing through the ancient building at high speed. She heard the whispers living in it, dark voices urging ugly, prideful things. She ignored the voices and battled to the walkway across the arena, her gaze on the fight.

Both men strained against the wind. Dante moved his arms and a huge gust of air knocked Africus to his knees.

The Tempest Wind rose to his feet and sent his own wind back in retaliation.

Dante staggered, but stayed upright. The men moved closer, laboring against each other’s power. Then Dante swung out with a fist.

Africus fought back with vicious kicks and punches. Dante blocked and matched each thrust with one of his own. It was a deadly display of brutal choreography. Dante was bigger than his opponent and seemed to have an edge.

Fighting the wind, Samia pushed forward. Halfway across the walkway, she saw Dante drop to his knees.

No. She hurried, battling the gusts tearing at her clothes and making her eyes water.

Suddenly the wind died away and she heard Africus laughing.

“Not so powerful now, WindKeeper.”

Dante’s groan echoed across the ancient stonework. “Stop.”

“Stop the whispers? I don’t control them, Venti. If you hear them—” Africus leaned close, his blond hair falling forward “—it’s because you want them.”

“No.” Dante’s tone was tortured.

Hold on. Samia increased her pace. She saw the sweat sheening his face and drenching his shirt.

“Just give in, Keeper. It’s such a powerful feeling. Don’t you deserve it?” Africus wrapped an arm around Dante’s shoulders like an old friend. “Join me. Stop fighting and revel in your true nature.”

The Tempest Wind helped Dante to his feet. Samia skidded to a stop a few feet from them. “Fight it, Dante. Fight him.”

Dante looked at her, his face strained, his eyes glazed. “Samia?”

“Yes.” She stepped closer and watched Africus’s blue eyes narrow. “He’s evil. Fight him.”

“I…I can’t anymore.” Dante drew in a shuddering breath. A bead of sweat slid down his temple. “I’m not strong enough.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Accept the wind and you’ll be stronger.” Africus shot her a disdainful look. “She is merely a woman. She has no power.”

Dante’s forehead furrowed. “I am already powerful.”

“Yes, yes, you are,” Africus said in a soothing tone. “But you can have more.”

No. She was losing him. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Take what the wind offers you.” Africus held a hand out to Dante. “Let us stand together. She is nothing but a killer. She cannot make you stronger.”

“Yes, I can.” A sense of rightness, of power, swept through Samia. Dante Venti needed her, whether he realized it or not.

She had been a killer, but the Hashshashin had decided that for her. Now she was making a choice to be something else.

Knowledge she never knew she possessed welled up inside her. She knew what she needed to do to save Dante. With him so far gone, she knew a simple touch would no longer be enough.

Her belly quivered and she glanced at Africus. She really didn’t want to do this with the Tempest Wind watching. But when she glanced back at Dante’s pain-filled face, she realized he was fading fast, sliding into the pride that would suck a good man away.

Her hands went to the hem of her shirt. She yanked it over her head, baring her skin. Dante’s eyes zeroed in there and she heard his breath hitch.

“What are you doing?” His voice was strained.

“What I need to do. What I want to do. For you.”

Africus gave a frustrated screech. “She is a seductress. She thinks her body is worth more than the power. She is beneath you, WindKeeper.”

Dante’s golden gaze met hers. “Why?”

The cool night air caressed her skin and made her shiver. “Because I need you, too.” She raised her hand. “Because I choose you.”

His big body trembled. She knew he was fighting the ugly pride twisting in him. With a groan, he placed his hand in hers.

Africus laughed. “Pride will make you mine, Venti.”

Dante’s fingers twined with hers and Samia saw the haze in his eyes clear a little.

“But not right now.” Dante’s hand shot out, clamping around Africus’s throat.

The blond man’s eyes widened and he clutched at Dante’s wrist. He coughed, fighting for air. “It won’t be long.” Then his body began fading into the wind. “I’ll be back when I know you’re ready to give in to what you really want.”

Dante broke away, lunging after Africus. Samia watched his steps falter, his hands flexing at his sides as he watched Africus sweep out of the ruins.

“I’m too far gone. I can’t turn into the wind.” Despair threaded Dante’s words.

Samia took a step toward him.

He exhaled and turned to face her. “I can’t keep the pride in check any longer. Not long enough to kill him.”

“Let me help you.” She grabbed his hands, felt them shaking. “Let me touch you. Let me take the pride away.”

His big body shuddered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

Her words broke his fragile control. Dante’s strong hands grabbed Samia, yanking her off her feet. His mouth took hers. The kiss was bruising, his lips taking full control of hers, demanding a response.

She felt the pride flowing off him in waves. Her hands clutched his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist. The sun had gone and the shadows around them were deep. He moved them further into the private darkness.

“You should get away from me,” he growled.

“No.” She was going to fight for him.

He shook his head. “I won’t use you.”

“We both know it’s more than that.”

He moaned. “I need you. Now.” His hands slid over her breasts, pulling the cups of her bra down. His fingers flicked over her nipples. She arched against him, heat flooding through her like lava. He stripped her bra off and bent his head, his mouth clamping on one nipple.

He backed her against a rock wall, grinding his erection against her heat. The sensation made her delirious. His hot mouth moved to her neglected nipple. She wanted this man more than she needed air.

When he lifted his head, she mourned the loss of his mouth. His gaze burned into her. “We shouldn’t do this.” The lines around his mouth deepened. “I promised not to take what I want from you.”

Her hands slid into his hair and yanked his face up to hers. “You’re not taking, I’m giving.”

“Last chance.” He stared at her, his chest heaving. “Last chance to escape.”

She smiled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“If I don’t have you, I’ll go mad.” He went to work on her trousers, pulling them off along with her panties. His hand brushed along her thigh, then in a shocking instant he was thrusting one long finger into her heat.

Her head dropped back, the emotions storming through her intense and shocking. His finger circled her, caressing and teasing. She bucked against him and when he slid another finger inside her, she thought she’d melt into a hot puddle.

“You’re so wet, Samia. For me.” He sat her on a low stone wall. He pulled her thighs apart and stepped between them. “I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone.”

Her heart did a slow turn. She reached for his shirt, ripping it out of his trousers and yanking it over his head. Next she attacked his trousers. When her hand brushed the bulging erection straining against the zipper, his groan was long and loud.

She smiled and freed him. He was big, thick and hard. She stroked him, imagining the feeling of him filling her. His eyes closed and he pushed against her hand.

“You’re killing me.” His hips thrust forward. “I need to be inside you.”

She released him and spun. Leaning her belly and hips against the wall, she arched her back and looked over her shoulder.

“Take me, Dante. Calm the storm in both of us.”

He ran his hands down her back, skimming her spine. One big hand ran down between her cheeks and touched her where she was wet and wanting. She leaned into him and moaned.

“Dio.” He covered her with his body. His erection slipped between her legs, prodding her entrance, the large head nestling between her lips.

She couldn’t survive any longer. “Dante! Now, please.”

With one hard thrust, he was inside her.

Samia cried out. She was caught between the hard rock pressing against her belly and the hard man against her back. He filled her, stretched her. They were one, and for the first time, she was no longer alone.

He gripped her hips. He pulled out, then slammed back into her.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He started pounding into her with an unforgiving rhythm. “Mine.”

“Yours.”

The sensation racing through her rivaled the wildest storm. It was like being caught in a vortex, wild desire tossing her like an angry sea.

He slid a hand under her, touching where his body thrust into hers. One long finger found the firm nub nestled there and a cry exploded from her. She thrust her hips back against him. She closed her eyes, lights exploding behind her eyelids.

His teeth clamped down on her shoulder and she bucked wildly against him. Everything inside her became concentrated to a pinpoint of electrifying pleasure. His hips plunged again and she screamed as the explosion tore through her.

Chapter Seven

Dante gripped Samia’s hips as her body convulsed around him. He gritted his teeth and fought for control. He wanted to pound into her and take his release, but he wanted her with him again.

His body demanded sweet relief—from the vicious pride and the brutal arousal flooding his system. When her contractions lessened, he started thrusting again.

“Dante!” she cried.

She felt perfect, her body clasping him, clamping down on his erection. He controlled the rhythm, made it fast and hard. He dragged her hips back against his, forcing her to accept every inch of him, everything he was, good and bad.

The pride fought like a living thing, not wanting to leave him, but the warmth of her body, the strength of her, was too powerful for it.

She’d been made for him. Her body fit his with perfection. He moved his hands up to cup her breasts. They fit his hands, the right size for his big palms. She calmed him, saved him, and in return, he would make the sadness in her eyes go away.

He scraped his teeth over her shoulder. With every stroke of his body, she gave a little rhythmic cry.

Her slim back glowed in the darkness and he couldn’t wait to make love to her on a big soft bed and stare into her bronze eyes as he loved her. He wanted to give her the tenderness and the care she deserved.

Right now, he’d give her passion. But he promised to show her more.

Her body contracted again. She gave an inarticulate cry and found her second release. He was helpless against the tidal wave moving though him. He pumped into her and this time his body shattered.

As he poured himself inside her, he wondered how he’d ever survived a day without her. With his release, his body felt energized, cleansed. His soul, once edged with the darkness of pride, felt nothing but the warmth of his feelings for her.

When Dante came back to awareness, he realized he was crushing Samia against the rough stone. He nuzzled her neck, then turned her.

She looked up at him with huge, dark eyes. He was stunned at what she’d done for him. She’d offered herself up to help him, giving her body to stop the pride. He pressed a kiss to her lips. Where their loving had been wild and frantic, this kiss was slow and tender.

He’d never wanted love, thought it wasn’t possible for one such as him. After all, finding a woman wasn’t essential for him. The duty of the WindKeeper line fell to the oldest. Luca would have the four sons to carry on the tradition. But now, this woman made Dante want things he’d never considered.

How could he convince her to stay? What woman would take a chance on a man who’d battled pride all his life? He knew he had to give her a choice, but what would he do if she chose to leave?

Her hand curved around his jaw. “How do you feel?”

He pushed his dark thoughts away. “Calm, in control. Thanks to you.” His hands framed her face. “You are the bravest, most generous woman I’ve ever met.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “You don’t even know me.”

His fingers slid into her hair. “I know the important things. You’re tough, intelligent, courageous. You grieved for a little boy and fought with everything you had for a man you barely know.”

She gave him a small smile. “I know the important things about you. A man who’s suffered daily to control his power so he can protect everyone else. A man willing to sacrifice for others.”

Her words sobered him. “Africus is still free.” If Dante didn’t stop him, he and Samia had no future. “I have to stop him.”

Her face went blank and she stepped back. “I understand. Duty always comes first.”

While Dante wanted to lose himself in Samia and in showing her what she was coming to mean to him, first he had to be a WindKeeper. “Samia—”

She turned away, reaching for her clothes. “Later. Let’s finish this.”

Si, they’d finish this. Dante swallowed his frustration. Then he’d show Samia just how important she was to him. After they dressed, they moved through the shadows.

“He hasn’t gone far,” Samia said.

“I know.” Dante sensed the taint of the Tempest Wind. He wanted to be found. “Do you trust me?”

She looked into his face, her gaze steady. “Yes.”

He tugged her to his chest and summoned the South Wind.

His body dispersed, becoming the air. Samia’s did the same. He heard her gasp, knew she was experiencing the sensation of leaving the solid behind and embracing the wind.

He directed the wind to follow Africus. They sailed after him, and even though they no longer had distinct bodies, Dante felt Samia’s calming influence beside him.

As the wind, they felt no sense of time or distance. Hunter chased foe through all the hidden places of Rome, past the buildings and temples of old, past the modern additions of the present.

Dante rematerialized in the Campo de’ fiori. The usually busy piazza was eerily silent. A dark wind swirled past the statue of the monk, prowled through the square.

He held Samia steady as she found her feet.

“Oh, God.” Her dark eyes were dazed, but a smile tilted her lips. “That was exhilarating.”

He’d forgotten the wonder of the first time he’d ridden the wind. Looking at her face, he remembered it all over again. “I take it for granted.”

“You shouldn’t.” She turned her face up to the statue. “Where’s Africus?”

“Right here, assassin.” Africus stalked out of the shadows.

Dante straightened. “It ends now, Vento Tempesta.”

Africus laughed. “Was she good, WindKeeper? I can smell sex on both of you.”

Dante lunged, lightning fast, but Africus dodged, avoiding the blow.

“You can still join me. Let the pride make you strong.”

“The pride is gone.”

At Dante’s stark words, confusion flowed over Africus’s face. “It’s not possible. Only the…” He eyed Samia. His face twisted into a vile mask. “They were supposed to be dead. This was our chance to win, to rule the world!”

Samia frowned. “Who’s supposed to be dead?”

Dante grabbed Africus. Shock made the Tempest Wind slow and in moments, Dante subdued him and forced him to his knees. He twisted Africus’s arms up behind his back.

Samia looked to Dante. “What’s he talking about?”

Dante took a deep breath. “Have you heard of the Aurae?”

Her frown deepened. “Aurae? Why does that word sound familiar?”

“They were women, keepers of the seasonal breezes.”

Something dawned in Samia’s eyes, a spark of recognition.

“The Aurae can control the vices of the wind,” he added.

Her mouth opened, closed. “You’re saying I’m Aurae?”

Africus jerked. “You should be dead.”

Dante yanked the man’s arm, but never took his gaze off Samia. “I need your help to end this.”

She didn’t move. He saw everything moving through her eyes—confusion, turmoil, wonder. Would she accept her heritage?

With a small nod, she stepped up beside him. When her hand pressed against his arm, soothing him, he felt power well up inside him.

Dante looked down at Africus. “My brothers will prevail. Soon the Venti Tempesta will be trapped again.”

“I won’t go back!” Africus shook his head wildly. “I will not go back to the Keeper of the Winds.”

“The choice is not yours to make.” Dante summoned the wind. He felt his power, magnified by Samia’s presence, fill the air around them.

A great whirlwind built. It twirled through the square, coming closer.

“No!” Africus screamed.

With a vicious shove, Dante pushed his foe into the vortex.

The Tempest Wind’s scream echoed across the square as his body disintegrated. Dante’s wind carried the Southwest Wind away and once again there was silence.

“It’s over,” Samia murmured.

“No.” Dante gripped her shoulders and pulled her to him. “It’s not over yet. For my brothers, the fight continues.” He prayed they’d defeat their winds soon. A part of him wondered if there were more Aurae out there. Women who could ease the burden of the WindKeepers.

But he couldn’t fight his brothers’ battles. All he could do was give thanks his was over and somehow convince the woman who’d saved him to stay.

His hand slid into Samia’s hair, brushing some dark strands off her forehead. “And it’s not over for us. For us, my sweet assassin, it’s just beginning.”

She glanced down at the ground. “I don’t have much to offer. I only know how to kill.”

Dante shook his head, his fingers brushing over her cheeks, forcing her gaze up. “That’s not true. You’re Aurae, with many skills to explore. And what you did for me before…you took care of me, you saved me.” He tugged her closer. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Her lips trembled. “No one’s ever cared.”

“I do.” His power wrapped around them and carried them away on the breeze. Moments later, they materialized on the balcony of Luca’s apartment. Dante swept Samia into his arms and carried her inside. “I’ll show you.”

In the bedroom, he set her down. He tried to be gentle, but as he removed her clothes, baring her beautiful body, his control faded. His hands shaped her, cupping her breasts, sliding along her limbs.

“Dante,” she whispered. Her hands slipped off his shirt, fingers running over his shoulders. Then she loosened his belt and soon they were both naked, hot skin pressed to hot skin.

He kissed her, their tongues tangling. The exotic taste of her seeped into him. Now he would love her with no pride present. Just man and woman.

He’d hoped to make this loving slow and easy, but fire ignited in his veins and scorching desire stormed through him. He needed her and slow was beyond him.

Lifting her, he backed her against the wall. Her long legs wrapped around him. He watched the moonlight play over her face. “You’re so beautiful, cara.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pressed his erection to her slick folds and pushed inside her.

She moaned, her hips rising to meet him. He drove into her with strong, measured thrusts.

“I’ll never let you go. I wanted to give you a choice, but please say you’ll stay with me.”

She gasped, her bronze gaze moving over his face. Her once sad eyes now only showed pleasure.

He thrust into her again. “Stay, fall in love with me, be my anchor.”

“Yes. I choose you, Dante.” Her hands gripped his shoulders, then slid down his back, nails scoring his skin. “I’ll stay. Always.”

She was his. He knew it just as he knew his own power. This woman had been made for him, was destined for him.

He’d spend a lifetime proving to her she came first, that she was making the right choice to take a chance on him. He’d ensure she never regretted being his.

Feelings, bright and hot, welled up inside him. He continued moving inside her, savoring her hot, welcoming body. Her damp skin pressed against his. He felt his release building and felt her body coiling, ready to explode.

His grip on her tightened. Pride was gone and in its place he was amazed to find love.

Raw heat scorched through Samia’s body. Dante’s possession took her higher and beyond everything she’d felt before.

She loved the feel of his big body against her, inside her. She loved him.

Oh, God. How could she be in love with him?

Dante’s hands gripped her hips, then he spun and carried her to the bed. Never once breaking contact, he sat. In this new position, he felt huge inside her. They were face-to-face, and she was shocked by the storm of emotion in his eyes.

He urged her to move her hips. “Ride me, Samia.”

She rose, then lowered. She was in control, his big body hers for the taking. He would stand by her, give her the closeness and love she craved. He would help her leave the Hashshashin behind and discover what being Aurae meant for her. He hadn’t said he loved her yet, but she vowed she’d hear the words from him.

She quickened her pace, felt the deep heaviness growing in her belly. Faster, rougher, she moved her body, reaching for the fever of pleasure she knew was coming.

She lowered herself again and heard a groan tear from his throat. As he emptied himself inside her, her own release ripped through her. Her back arched and pleasure swamped her.

Body still tingling, Samia opened her eyes.

His hands slid into her hair. “I’m falling in love with you, Samia Hassan. I hope you’ll let me.”

Mesmerized by his eyes, she felt her chest swell. All her life she wanted to mean something to someone, to be loved. Now it seemed this beautiful man was offering her the chance. “I’ll do everything I can to make it a fast trip.”

He tugged her face closer. “For both of us.”

She’d already fallen a long way. Who wouldn’t fall for a man like this one? “Yes, for both of us.”

He pulled her close, his hands smoothing up and down her spine. Her face was pressed to his chest and she heard the steady beat of his heart.

A heart that now belonged to her.

She smiled. A new life. From now on, there would be more than death for her. With him by her side, she would never be alone.

Read about Rafe and Livia, Keeper of the Winds, in the first WindKeepers story Wind Kissed, Fire Bound by Anna Hackett, on sale now wherever eBooks are sold.

If you liked this story, be sure to check out these other Silhouette Nocturne Bites by Anna Hackett available now wherever eBooks are sold:

WIND KISSED, FIRE BOUND

SAVAGE DRAGON

Plus, look for more WindKeepers stories in 2010!

For more about Anna and her books, visit:

Her website - www.annahackettbooks.com

Her blog - http://annahackett.blogspot.com

Her Twitter - http://twitter.com/AnnaHackett

Don’t miss the other spooky and sensual NOCTURNE BITES, available at www.ebooks.eharlequin.com and wherever eBooks are sold.

Looking for more paranormal romance? The sizzling and spine-chilling books of Silhouette Nocturne are available at www.eHarlequin.com or your local bookstore.

Interested in writing for Nocturne Bites? Send your submission to NocturneBites@Harlequin.ca

ISBN: 978-1-4268-4179-8

Taken by the South Wind

Copyright © 2009 by Anna Hackett

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text October be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.eHarlequin.com