{"id":9709,"date":"2010-09-07T23:00:48","date_gmt":"2010-09-08T03:00:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.shilohwalker.com\/website\/?p=9709"},"modified":"2010-09-18T08:32:04","modified_gmt":"2010-09-18T12:32:04","slug":"september-sizzles","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.shilohwalker.com\/website\/2010\/09\/september-sizzles\/","title":{"rendered":"September Sizzles…"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Contest is now over.\u00a0 Winners to be posted at participating authors blogs.<\/span><\/h3>\n

Enter to win your chance at a signed book from the author <\/em>and a chance to win $150 in book money from the online retailer of your choice\u2026Read on for details\u2026<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/a>\"\"<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

Assassin\u2019s Heart by Monica Burns<\/h3>\n

The laser hit his skin again from his ear down to his jaw. The pain pulled a pitched scream of agonized terror from him, and he fell backward into a black pool of nothingness\u2014his last thought was of Ancient Rome and Phaedra running to meet him. He was home again.<\/p>\n

He had no idea how long he\u2019d been out, but when he awoke, everything was silent and dark. Was it nighttime in the Elysium Fields? He tried to sit up. The slight movement sent fire streaking through every cell in his body. He started to cry. The Praetorian bastardo <\/em>had left him here to die. Alone. His own son.<\/p>\n

He grew still with horror. He wasn\u2019t Sicari. He was Praetorian. The obscene thought pulled a cry of denial from him. His mind hovered on the brink of despair. Impossible. It couldn\u2019t be true. But they shared the same birthmark. The whisper of truth curled through his head. He wouldn\u2019t believe it. The bastardo<\/em> was lying. A teardrop rolled over his skinned cheek, and it pulled a sob of anguish from him.<\/p>\n

\u201cFotte<\/em>. Fotte. Fotte<\/strong>.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

It was a roar of fear and helplessness, as well as a cry of agony. More tears flowed over his bared muscles, until the pain sent him back to that dark place again.<\/p>\n

Voices filtered their way down into the pit, and he shuddered with terror. They\u2019d come back for him. Like a wild animal anticipating more torture, he tugged at his restraints ignoring the fire that consumed his body. He wouldn\u2019t be able to keep the figlio di puttana <\/em>out of his head this time. He heard running feet, and then he smelled the soft scent of a woman. Marta?<\/p>\n

\u201cSweet Juno.\u201d Cleo leaned over him, her cool hand brushing across his forehead. Horror widened her eyes as she stared down at him. In the next instant, she spoke into her mic. \u201cLysander\u2019s alive, but I don\u2019t know for how much longer. He needs the Curavi<\/em>. Now<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

He couldn\u2019t hear the response she got, but a sudden image of Phaedra filled his head. She was here. A subtle warmth filled him as her fear and worry for him whispered sweetly across his mind. Deus<\/em>, he needed her right now. Needed to feel her touch. Her hand in his, her healing\u2014no<\/em>.<\/p>\n

The sound of feet pounded on the warehouse floor once more, and first Ares then Phaedra came into view. He\u2019d never seen a more beautiful, yet terrifying, sight in his entire life. He couldn\u2019t take part in seeing her lovely face marred by his injuries. Couldn\u2019t let her see the monster inside him. Terror lanced through him as she reached for his hand. Tormented, he tugged at his restraints.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. No Curavi<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cleo clamped down on his arm. \u201cMerda<\/em>, he\u2019s out of his mind with pain.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor the love of God, Cleo. Tighten those restraints.\u201d Panic laced through Phaedra\u2019s voice. \u201cI can\u2019t heal him if he\u2019s fighting me. I\u2019ll heal the lesser injuries first. Then we can transport him. When we\u2019re home, I\u2019ll\u2026I\u2019ll do what I can for his other wounds.\u201d<\/p>\n

He saw her swallow hard and recognized her fear. The idea of her taking on his injuries was a nightmare, but he knew without a doubt that when she touched him she\u2019d be able to see all the darkness inside him. He was too weak to keep her locked out of his thoughts if she touched him. She\u2019d see. She\u2019d see everything because the pain was too horrible to prevent her from learning the truth.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo<\/em>,\u201d he roared. \u201cNo<\/em> Curavi<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

The strength of his voice echoed loudly in the room, and he heard Ares utter a vicious curse while Cleo grasped his hand in a death grip. Fear and horror darkened Phaedra\u2019s eyes as bent over him. Her mouth brushed across the ear on his unmarked cheek.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me do this for you, carino<\/em>,\u201d she whispered in a sweet, gentle voice. \u201cI\u2019m not afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo<\/em>. Refuse the Curavi<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

He tried to shake his head as he forged through the pain and ground out the word forcefully. Couldn\u2019t let her see. Her parents\u2019 murder\u2026hated Praetorians\u2026couldn\u2019t bear her hatred. He felt himself slipping off into oblivion and climbed up the cliff back into the pain. She\u2019d heal him without his permission if he didn\u2019t protest.<\/p>\n

\u201cListen you dumb son of a bitch.\u201d Cleo\u2019s voice was harsh. \u201cYou let Phaedra heal you or I\u2019m going to rip you a new one. You hear me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo\u2026dead already.\u201d And he was. He was Praetorian, and if anyone found out\u2026he\u2019d rather die.<\/p>\n

\u201cGive me your hands, Lysander. With your permission, I must touch you to heal your injuries.\u201d There was a frantic desperation in Phaedra\u2019s voice, but it only made him clench his hands into tight fists.<\/p>\n

\u201cI. Refuse. Curavi<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice wasn\u2019t loud, but it was strong and determined. He heard someone nearby release a vicious sound. Ares. His Legatus<\/em> pushed Cleo aside to grip his arm with force.<\/p>\n

\u201cTake the goddamn, Curavi<\/em>, you sorry bastardo<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Something wet hit his unscarred cheek and his gaze shifted from Ares to Phaedra. In the dim light, he could see tears clinging to her lashes. He wouldn\u2019t hurt her. Wouldn\u2019t let her see he was everything she hated. He loved her too much. He released a sob of pain.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs. My. Right. Refuse<\/em>. Curavi<\/em>.\u201d Each word was a labor of effort to say.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo<\/em>,\u201d Phaedra exclaimed violently. \u201cI\u2019m not about to let you die, you dumb bacciagalupe<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Visit\u2019s Alison\u2019s Blog<\/a>\u2026next up in the September Sizzle\u2019s contest\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

September Sizzles\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

Would you like to win a signed book from Monica\u2019s available backlist<\/strong>*?\u00a0 Just leave a comment to enter.\u00a0 Commenting also enters you to win a $150 GC to the online book retailer of your choice (we must be able to purchase a gift certificate from within the US.)\u00a0 If you visit each participating author\u2019s blog and comment, that increases your odds of winning. Visiting\/commenting at each participating author blog will get your five entries. However, only one comment per blog.<\/em><\/p>\n

Rules:<\/em><\/p>\n