11. Luna
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LUNA
We strolled to the wall, avoiding the main street. Leaving by alleyway seemed a good idea, especially with the book tucked into Benedetto’s tunic. With a practiced movement, I twisted my skirts and prepared to scrabble over the wall.
“Allow me.” Benedetto grabbed my waist and hoisted me up. I twisted, grabbed the wall and jumped over. He followed a moment later.
He was very strong. His lean build was deceptive, and I frowned at the tiny thrill at how easily he lifted me.
The stones set in the corners of the cobbles flickered, giving a dim light. We kept a good pace for several streets as the sounds of the party faded behind us and quiet fell, the only sound the distant cries of seabirds from the harbor.
I walked beside Benedetto, my senses alert. Something felt off. It was too quiet for this early in the evening. A prickling instinct made me glance over my shoulder. Three men trailed behind us, trying to blend into the shadows but moving with purpose. Their eyes were fixed intently on Benedetto and me.
I leaned close to Benedetto and murmured urgently, "We're being followed. I think a lot of different people must want that book."
Benedetto brushed his lips on my fingertips. "I noticed. Let's see if they can keep up."
He abruptly veered left into another alley. I hurried after him, gathering my skirts. Benedetto sprinted to a rusted grate in the stone wall and wrenched it open with a grunt.
The storm sewers. We were going to escape through the storm sewers. While it wasn’t the rainy season, my shoes would never be the same.
"Would the vixen care to go to ground?" he asked with a mocking bow.
I rolled my eyes but didn't hesitate, ducking to step through the opening. "What, you thought I’d stop? Try to keep up with me, husband," I said as I disappeared into the darkness.
Benedetto chuckled behind me. I heard the metallic clang as he yanked the grate closed and wedged it just as our pursuers' footsteps rounded the corner.
A rough circle of stones cemented together with hard baked tiles above and below us. Unknown dried matter, the origin of which I did not wish to know, covered the lower tiles. In the dry season, at least, the smell wasn’t terribly bad. Vala had made me use the system in the rainy season, when it was worth your life to enter the sewers.
My mother-in-law was not a patient teacher.
Shoes clattering on the tile, I led the way through the dank labyrinth of tunnels designed to channel rainwater to the sea. The air hung heavy around us, the sound of people wrenching at the grate a distance behind us. Dim moonlight filtered through intermittent grates just above my head, barely illuminating our path.
Benedetto ran just behind me, our footsteps loud in the stillness. Far behind us, the shriek of iron rang out as our pursuers forced the grate open again. Several voices bounced off the walls, growing louder as they gained followed the sounds of out flight.
Teaming up with Benedetto was a terrible idea. He enjoyed risk, and I did not. In a strange way, his company was also exhilarating. Years ago, when I ran with Rose and Sofia, I'd been scared to death for all of us. Now, my heart thrummed but I wasn’t afraid. I'd never felt like this with anyone before.
Thank the absent gods it hadn't rained in the past few weeks. The water only reached our ankles in lower areas, instead of sloshing around our knees.
Benedetto took the lead from me, guiding us through the twists and turns with surprising familiarity. I struggled to keep up, my gown pulled up above my knees, but I refused to fall behind.
"You've been down here before," I said, a hint of accusation in my tone.
He glanced back with a grin that flashed white in the gloom. "Of course. It's a good place to hide when you've pissed off the wrong people or want to avoid a determined parent."
His or someone else’s?
I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at my lips despite the danger. Of course he’d be familiar with this route. It fit his methods perfectly.
We rounded a corner and Benedetto skidded to a halt, holding up a hand. I nearly crashed into him. He cocked his head, listening intently. The sounds of pursuit had faded, but I knew better than to believe we'd lost them so easily.
"What now?" I said, my breath coming easily, despite the run.
Benedetto's eyes gleamed in the faint light, a mix of mischief and calculation. "Now we outsmart them. Follow my lead, little vixen."
He took off down a side tunnel, his movements swift and silent as a shadow. I raced after him, praying to the absent gods might yet be listening that his plan, whatever it was, would work.
If we got out of this alive. I was going to have a long talk with him about planning, and letting others know about those plans. Right after I slapped him for being overconfident.
The splashing of our pursuers' footsteps grew louder. I risked a glance over my shoulder and my blood ran cold. A glint of metal flashed in the dim light, a knife, wielded by one of the men hot on our heels.
"They're faster than I thought," Benedetto cursed under his breath, his usual bravado tinged with genuine concern.
"Split up? This tunnel leads toward the d’Alvarez estate. I know these passages like the back of my hand."
Benedetto hesitated for a beat, his gaze locking with mine. In that moment, a flicker of something, worry, admiration, or perhaps both, crossed his face before he nodded curtly. "Don't get yourself killed, Lunetta. I want to enjoy our discussion on whose hand is firmer."
I flashed him a grin. "I look forward to it, husband. Try to survive as well."
With that, I ducked into the side tunnel, my shoes clattering as I disappeared from view. I plunged deeper into the labyrinthine sewers.
Absent gods, let this work.
Time seemed to blur as I navigated the twists and turns. I’d trained long and hard, but even so, it became difficult to keep my breath from coming in ragged gasps. This had been an even longer run than the one I normally took. The sounds of pursuit faded behind me, but I didn't dare slow down.
After what seemed like an eternity, my chest burning with strain, I spotted the exit I'd used countless times before. With a final burst of speed, I swung the oiled grate open and tumbled into the cool night air, stumbling to a halt on the well-trimmed grass behind the d'Alvarez estate.
The rolling lawn was dotted with structures and a few small groves of trees. The tiny, worn chapel to my left, and further on and closer to the house, the baths. Steam rose from the interior like a beacon of sanctuary.
The fires always burned there, costing a fortune but permitting bathing at any hour, day or night. And I desperately needed one at the moment.
I leaned against the wall near the swerve grate, quietly breathing in and out as I tried to calm my racing heart. I did it. Now it remained to see if Benedetto made it out.
The thud of rapid steps sent a jolt of fear through me, and I braced myself, ready to fight or bolt. A familiar figure emerged from the shadows, breathing hard but grinning from ear to ear as he regarded me.
"You really are smarter than your typical noble maiden," Benedetto said, his tone equal parts teasing and admiring.
"Since I’m not a maiden, I’m not sure where you’re going with that," I replied, but there was no real heat behind the words.
He sauntered closer, his gaze raking over me in a way that made my skin tingle. "We lost them, didn't we?"
My pulse quickened for an entirely different reason. Damn him and my body for wanting him for no reason I could discern. I’d had him, and all it did was hurt. Why was I drawn to him?
“Yes. Thanks to quick thinking and my knowledge of the sewers."
The corners of Benedetto's eyes crinkled with a real smile. "We make a pretty good team, vixen. Admit it."
I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. "You’re the one who needs to admit it, husband."
Benedetto and I did make a good team. A dangerous, reckless, infuriatingly attractive team.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, equal parts exhilaration and trepidation. Absent gods, what am I getting myself into?
We both looked down at ourselves then, taking in the clothing splattered with blood and mud as well as the pungent earthy odor of the sewers clinging to our skin and hair. Benedetto wrinkled his nose, his expression a mix of disgust and amusement.
"I think getting clean should be first on the evening’s list of activities," he gestured to our disheveled state.
"I’m heading for the bathhouse. Feel free to use the men’s side.”
“Ah, yes, she still pays for it to be fired day and night, does she? What a pleasant thought, you, me, naked…” His tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of heat that made my cheeks warm.
“Clean," I responded drily, trying to ignore the way my heart stuttered at the images his words conjured. Remembering the last time I’d seen him naked.
And it hurt, remember? Stop fantasizing and deal with reality, woman.
The heavy wooden door creaked as I pushed it open, releasing a gust of warm, herb-scented air that enveloped me like a perfumed embrace. Tendrils of steam curled up from the bathwater, obscuring the distant edges of the room and muffling the soft splashes of the other women as they moved languidly through the mineral-rich pool.
I stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind me with a dull thud. The bathhouse was divided in two by a towering stone wall, the women's sanctuary on one side, the men's on the other. In the hushed quiet, broken only by the occasional drip of water or sigh of contentment, I could almost forget the world outside, with its tangled web of politics and treachery.
Shedding my sweat-stained clothes, I eased myself into the bath, inhaling sharply as the heated water lapped at my skin. I waded out until I was submerged to my chin, the warmth seeping into my bones and unwinding the knots of tension that had taken root between my shoulders. The earthy scent of lavender mingled with the brighter notes of eucalyptus, the fragrant steam cleansing my lungs with every breath.
As I floated there, suspended in that pocket of tranquility, my mind drifted unbidden to the trials ahead. The path I had chosen was a treacherous one, littered with obstacles and enemies at every turn. But in that moment, enveloped by the soothing waters, I could almost convince myself that everything would work out in the end. Almost.
Too soon, the water began to cool, and I forced myself to climb out, rivulets streaming down my pruned skin. I reached for one of the thin silk robes folded nearby, the fabric whispering against my damp flesh as I tied it loosely at the waist. Drawing in a steadying breath, I squared my shoulders and made my way toward the doorway that led to the men's side of the bathhouse.
I wasn't entirely sure what I expected to find on the other side of that door. Part of me, the part that had been raised on tales of chivalry and courtly love, thought that I should want Benedetto to sweep me off my feet, to offer me pretty words and gentle caresses. But another part, the part that had learned the hard way that life was rarely so kind, knew better than to expect anything more than a quick tumble and a few coins tossed my way for my trouble.
I stepped through the doorway, the steam parting before me like a curtain drawn back to reveal the stage. And there he was, Benedetto, standing waist-deep in the water with his back to me. Even without seeing his face, I recognized the proud set of his shoulders, the arrogant tilt of his head. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it.
At the sound of my footsteps, he turned, a smirk already curling the edges of his mouth. "Well, well," he drawled, his eyes raking over me in a way that made my skin prickle with an odd mix of indignation and something darker, more primal. "Couldn't resist the temptation to sneak a peek, could you?"
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Don't flatter yourself," I retorted, my voice steadier than I felt. "I merely wanted to ensure you hadn't drowned in the weight of your own ego."
He barked a laugh at that, though there was little humor in the sound. Wading closer, he cocked his head to the side, studying me with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. "Is that so?" he murmured, the water rippling around his thighs as he moved. "Or perhaps you're just desperate for a chance to get a child in your belly. Afraid you're running out of time?"
Fury sparked through me at his words, bright and hot. Deliberately, I leaned back against the wall, my fingers going to the knot that held my robe closed. With a deft twist, I let the silk fall open, baring my skin to his hungry gaze.
"Well," I purred, a mocking smile playing about my lips, "I suppose I can spare a minute or two. Seeing as you're known for being more of a sprint than a marathon."
He sputtered at that, his eyes widening before narrowing into slits. In two strides he was on me, his hands gripping my waist almost hard enough to bruise as he hauled me up against the solid plane of his chest.
"Careful, little Dove," he growled, his breath hot against my cheek. "You're playing a dangerous game."
And then his mouth was on mine, crushing, demanding, his tongue delving past my parted lips to lay claim to every secret hollow. I kissed him back just as fiercely, my nails biting into the muscles of his shoulders, determined to give as good as I got.
We stumbled backward, Benedetto's hands roaming over my body with a roughness that bordered on desperation. But even as my own desire rose to meet his, I kept my back pressed firmly against the wall, unwilling to let him see the scars that marred my skin, the evidence of a past I would just as soon forget.
In the hazy cocoon of steam, Benedetto's fingertips skated over my skin as if relearning every curve and hollow. Each feather-light touch burned like a brand, igniting sparks that danced along my nerve endings until my whole body felt electrified, yearning. A soft moan escaped my lips as his hand dipped lower, delving into the aching heat at the apex of my thighs.
Slowly, deliberately, he walked me backward along the edge of the pool, never breaking contact, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that left me breathless. In the gentle sway of his hips, the careful press of his fingers, I sensed an unfamiliar tenderness lurking beneath the surface of his desire, a vulnerability he kept hidden behind his proud, fierce mask.
My back met the cool stone of the wall, a shiver racing down my spine that had little to do with the temperature. Benedetto's body pinned me in place, the hard planes of his chest and stomach melding against the soft curves of my own.
As his touch grew bolder, more insistent, I felt my control unraveling like a spool of thread pulled taut. My heart hammered against my ribs, the rushing of blood in my ears nearly drowning out the ragged cadence of my breathing. Heat unfurled in my belly, spreading outward until every inch of my skin flushed with wanting.
When his fingers finally pushed inside me, I gasped, my head falling back against the wall as pleasure crested and broke over me in waves. Benedetto swallowed my cries with his kiss, his tongue stroking against mine in a rhythm that matched the urgent thrust of his fingers.
In that suspended moment, the rest of the world fell away, narrowing to nothing more than the slide of skin on skin, the mingled scent of our arousal, and the pulsing need that bound us together. I shattered apart with his name on my lips, my nails scoring crescent moons into the flexing muscles of his shoulders.
As the aftershocks of my climax rippled through me, I became aware of small details that seemed to etch themselves into my mind with startling clarity. The way the water lapped gently at our entwined bodies, steam rising in gossamer tendrils. The hitch in Benedetto's breathing as he whispered a hoarse command for me to hold on. The almost reverent brush of his lips against my temple, a gesture both tender and fierce.
In that fleeting, crystallized instant, I understood that this joining of our bodies was more than just a physical act. It was a communion of sorts, a silent acknowledgment of the scars we both bore, visible and invisible. A wordless promise to stand together against the gathering storm, no matter the cost.
Benedetto gripped my hips as he lifted me, bracing my back against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, deeper, until I couldn't tell where I ended, and he began.
We rocked together in a symphony of sighs and gasps, the echoes of our coupling mingling with the soft lapping of the water against stone. Each thrust drove coherent thought further from my mind, until all that remained was sensation, bright and sharp as the edge of a knife.
When Benedetto finally reached his own peak, his release pulsing hot and wet inside me, I felt a curious sense of triumph mixed with an aching vulnerability. In the trembling stillness that followed, as our heartbeats slowed and our breathing evened, I allowed myself to imagine, just for a moment, that this could be something real, something that lasted beyond the temporary pleasure of flesh.
But even as the thought formed, I pushed it away, burying it deep. In the world we inhabited, there was no room for such soft, fragile dreams. They would shatter like spun glass against the cold, hard reality of our lives.
So instead, I untangled my limbs from his and reached for my robe, wrapping the thin silk around myself like a shield. Benedetto watched me with an unreadable expression, his eyes dark and fathomless in the wavering light.
"This doesn't change anything," I said, my voice sounding hollow to my own ears.
He inclined his head, a wry twist to his lips. "Of course not," he agreed, though I thought I detected a flicker of something that might have been regret in his gaze. "We both know the rules of this game."
And with that, I turned and walked away, the memory of his touch lingering on my skin like a brand, a reminder of all the things I could never allow myself to want.