“Santo,” Pet protested with a frown. “You can’t anticipate every move that will be made. What if you had known, and had sent for your own allies, to attack their second army’s flank when they attacked you? Perhaps Vanittus would have anticipated that and had a second backup to attack your backup. You can’t foresee everything, and this was not your fault.”
He looked like he wanted to argue that, but merely rubbed his hand over his head and said in a flat voice, “Unbeknownst to me, by the time we hacked our way up the middle and into the courtyard, most of my men were dead behind us. The few remaining would soon follow. There was a pyre burning in the center of the courtyard. Several men were holding Honorata, and several more held Claricia and Fenicia. Vanittus was demanding Honorata agree to be his life mate.”
“They needed several men to hold on to two little five-year-olds?” Pet asked with surprise.
“Immortal children are strong. One male each would not have done,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” she said with surprise, and wondered how strong she was now.
“I had just stopped to take in the situation in the courtyard when I heard one of my son’s cry out. The three of them had been guarding my back, but when I turned . . .”
Pet held her breath and ran her hand soothingly over his chest. She didn’t look up. She didn’t need to. She’d heard the pain in his voice before it had cracked.
Santo cleared his throat after a minute. “My boys had been beheaded and a wall of men twenty deep stood behind their bodies. As I stood gaping in shock, several men picked up their remains, carried them past me, and threw them on the pyre.
“Honorata let loose a terrible scream,” he said sadly. “The men closed in on me then. I fought hard and killed perhaps two dozen, but there were just too many and eventually I was subdued. I thought they would behead me too, and I would join my sons, but instead they dragged me forward, and forced me to kneel by Honorata. She had collapsed to the dirt in front of the pyre.
“Vanittus made his ultimatum to her then. Agree to be his life mate or her daughters and lover would follow her sons onto the pyre. I thought she would do it to save our daughters,” Santo said with bewilderment. “They were our daughters . . . And she could always have killed him later to gain her freedom.” He shook his head. “But she stood up, spat at Vanittus, and leapt onto the pyre.”
Pet swallowed a sudden thickness in her throat and whispered, “Maybe she thought he would leave the rest of you alone if she was dead.”
“She was wrong,” he said harshly. “Vanittus roared with fury as we watched her burn. She did not make a sound. Our daughters did, though, when Vanittus then turned and ordered them to be thrown on the pyre alive. I struggled to get to them, to stop what was happening, but there were too many men holding me back. I had to watch as they were tossed on the fire and shrieked and strove to get out. One of them did manage to crawl out of the flames, but the soldiers used long poles to push her back in.”
Pet sucked in a deep gasp of air and closed her eyes, unable to even imagine what he must have gone through witnessing that.
“I still hear their screams in my sleep and fight to get to them,” he whispered.
Pet could feel tears running down her face, but didn’t move to wipe them away. She didn’t want to do anything to distract Santo. She wanted him to finish this horrible tale as quickly as possible and never have to tell, and relive, it again.
“I fully expected to be thrown on the pyre next, but by then I had stopped fighting. I did not care. I had lost the will to live.” A long sigh eased from him, making his chest move under her and then he said, “Instead, I was chained, thrown over a horse, and dragged back to Vilani keep. I was shackled to the wall of his dungeon, and there I remained for the next one hundred and sixty-two years.”
“What?” Pet gasped, sitting up abruptly. “But, why—?”
She had meant to ask why no one had rescued him. Why he had been left to rot there for so long, but Santo apparently thought she was asking why Vanittus had bothered to chain him up, and said, “So that he could take out his frustration and fury at losing his life mate on me, and he did so every day at first. He would torture me for hours using one device or another, and then leave me to suffer more agony as the nanos began harvesting blood from organs to keep me alive. The next day he would force-feed me several of his servants so that I would heal, and then he would start again with a different torture.”
“This happened every day?” Pet asked, horrified at how he must have suffered.
“For about fifty years or so. Then he grew bored, and the torture was reduced to every other day, and then after another twenty years, only twice a week, and so on.”
“No one came to break you out, or help you?” she asked, wondering where his family was while this was happening.
“My family all thought I had died in the fire along with Honorata and our children. There was no one left alive at Bruni to say otherwise. Not servant nor soldier. And they found my ring in the ashes along with Honorata and the children’s.”
“How did it get there?”
“I am not sure. I presume Vanittus took it off me—either before we left Bruni, or during our first torture session—and had it thrown in the fire to ensure I was thought to be dead.”
Pet stared at him silently for a minute, and then finally wiped her eyes and asked, “How did you get away? Did he release you?”
“No. A young maid who worked in the castle and had been force-fed to me a time or two ran away from Vilani. Without his parents there to control him, Vanittus fed on his servants and soldiers. They were all terrified of him. The maid who ran away had a sister at Vilani still. She went to my mother and told her I was there in exchange for the promise that she would save her sister when she went to save me.
“Mother raised an army four times the size of Vilani’s forces and led them in the attack. She was inside the castle and cutting his head off before Vanittus knew what hit him and could order me killed. Then she found and set me free.”
“Your mother sounds fierce,” Pet said solemnly.
“She is a force to be reckoned with when her ire is up,” Santo said with a fond smile. “And her ire was up. I am her son.”
“Her favorite son?” she suggested with a smile.
“Her oldest son,” he said after a hesitation.
Pet shook her head with amusement. She’d known he wouldn’t admit it even if he was his mother’s favorite, but she let it go and asked, “And the maid’s sister? Did your mother keep her safe?”
“She did one better. Mother not only saved the maid’s sister, she also settled a great deal of wealth on them both. If there are any descendants of theirs alive today, they are no doubt still wealthy.”
They were both silent for a minute, and then Pet muttered, “Well . . . and here I thought I had a tough past.”
Santo blinked at her words, and then shook his head with disbelief. “That is all you have to say?”
Pet arched one eyebrow. “Were you hoping for pity?”
“No,” he assured her solemnly. “I take that no better than you.”
Pet smiled. “That’s what I thought.”
“But I was hoping for some naked comfort,” Santo added softly, the silver in his eyes growing as his gaze slid over her.
“Yeah?” she asked, remembering how his kisses and caresses had seemed to restore her soul in the restaurant parking lot. Shifting, Pet turned slightly and lay down with her head above his groin and her feet toward the top of the bed. Closing her hand gently around his hardening penis, she kissed the tip and then murmured, “I think I can manage that.”
Pet had barely taken him into her mouth and paused as it sent a shaft of pleasure through her, when his hand slid up her thigh and between her legs sending another jolt along to join and double the first. They both groaned and then the door opened and Pet glanced around in shock as a stranger burst in, yelling something in Italian.
Squealing, Pet released Santo and dove under the covers.
Nineteen
“Thank God I stopped you when I did.”
Santo rolled his eyes at those words as he stomped down the hall behind Christian Notte. He couldn’t believe his cousin had just barged in like that, shouting, “Stop! Stop! You cannot do it!” in Italian, and he had no idea why he would, but intended to find out. To that end, he’d quickly dragged on his jeans and ushered his cousin out of the room. He was hoping to get to the bottom of things quickly so that he could return to Pet and finish what they’d started.
“I never would have forgiven myself if she had died because we kept quiet,” Christian added.
“What?” Santo caught his cousin’s arm and jerked him to a halt. “Kept what quiet?”
Rather than answer, Christian said, “You have to convince Pet to turn before you can sleep with her, cousin. Otherwise you could be dangerous to her.”
Santo stiffened at the suggestion. “I would never hurt Pet.”
“Not on purpose,” Christian allowed. “But you could by accident.”
“No.” Santo shook his head with certainty. “I would sooner die than harm Pet.”
“Of course, but you are not in control while you are asleep,” Christian said insistently, and when Santo continued to shake his head firmly, asked, “Would you ever think you could hurt myself or our cousins Raffaele and Marcus?”
“No, of course not,” he growled. The idea was ridiculous.
“But you have,” Christian told him solemnly. “You have hurt all three of us.”
“What?” he asked with alarm.
Christian nodded regretfully. “You do not just scream in your sleep when the nightmares are on you, cousin. You thrash and fight and have even choked each one of us on those rare occasions when we were forced to double up for a night, or we were foolish enough to try to wake you from a night terror.”