Burning Hope: Sneak Peek!

Chapter One

 

Everyone has a price.

Everyone.

Anyone who might say otherwise is simply not hearing the right number.

And, oh, what Nero wouldn’t pay to have what he needed. He would throw all his gold at the feet of whoever could fill the hole in his chest. He had more than enough to offer. That wasn’t his issue. His issue was that he didn’t know who they were. He didn’t know how to find them.

He didn’t know if they existed.

He had begun to lose hope that such a person might be out there. Someone who might…dare he even think it? Love him?

Who could love someone like him? A monster?

He’d long since consigned himself to the idea that he’d have partners, bed-warmers, playmates, and the like. But never anyone he would really call a lover.

Then…Viktor found Rose. And that wasn’t fair. The piece of trash who claimed the title as Cardinal of the East Wind had a wife. Him. The one who acted like he stored that stupid cane of his up his ass.

If Viktor could find a wife, then Nero had to have a chance. Right?

Nero had come to the Temple of Hera out of the distant hope that such a person might be real. That such a person might be out there for him. If only Hera would lead him to such a person, he could lay down his riches and his power at their feet. He was not certain if anyone could love him. But he could buy their willingness to try. That much he knew.

Everyone had a price, after all.

Nero only had to find a person willing to sell.

***

Hope’s life changed with a string of obscenities.

It was hardly the way she would have chosen to have her whole world upended. All things considered, she figured that if everything in her life had to fall apart, it would been from a bomb. From war. Or murder. Not swearing. But sometimes a person was not allowed to choose. That was for the gods to decide.

And her gods had a sick sense of humor.

“Died for love. What a wonderful way to die, though. For a cause you believe in, and an amazing ass.

She cringed. She heard the gasps of the people in the temple. The man, whoever he was, had been sitting there cussing to himself—or rather, cussing up at the idol of Hera—for nearly a half an hour now. If he considered his profane conversation to be a form of worship, there was little reason to wonder why his prayers were not being answered.

When he kept swearing, she finally had to put a stop to it. Putting down the linens she had been folding by one wall, she made her way toward the source of the voice. Her metal wrist cuffs vibrated to alert her to nearby furniture, although she had the layout of the temple entirely memorized. As for the location of the man in question, all she had to do was follow the sound. Luckily, it was not hard.

He didn’t shut up.

“Now they’re off to the islands. Off to fuck like rabbits and make a bunch of little Viktors, I bet.” The man gagged dramatically.

The bracers she wore vibrated again as she made her way along the pews. Row after row of them, their locations locked in her memory. She avoided them easily as she walked up the aisle toward the “gentleman” who was still busy loudly complaining at Mother Hera. Or whining at her. Hope wasn’t quite sure which.

She traced her fingers over the tops of the handrails of the pews as she walked. There were only a few benches before the space opened into a large empty area in front of the statue of Hera where the truly devout could kneel in prayer. But this man had chosen to sit.

Hope had been told many times of how beautiful the statue was. How large and grand. How the brass shone like purest gold. But she could not know for certain.

She was blind, and had been her entire life.

She could hear the man’s voice more clearly as she got closer, and he was still swearing. He was clearly uncaring about the fact that he was in a temple to the Holy Mother. “I bet she’s an amazing fuck, too.”

Hope sighed heavily and pulled the fabric of her hood up over her hair, smoothing out the robes she wore. They were the garments of a High Devout. Not the finest robes, as those were reserved for the high priestess, the Mother Arkhiereus. But Hope still had plenty of authority to remove the man for his behavior.

She walked up to the man as he muttered something else to himself that she did not quite catch. It sounded more personal—more private, at least, than his constant misuse of language. She could not tell his age by the sound of his voice. He was neither a boy nor an old man, but beyond that, she could glean nothing. Nothing except for the simple fact that he seemed to have no respect for where he was or for the other worshipers around him.

She stood beside him. When he paused in his rantings, she took the opportunity to speak up.

“Sir?”

***

Stupid Viktor. Stupid East Wind. Fuck him, why should he get to be happy and I don’t? I’m better looking. I’m a better lover. I’m a better ruler. I’m nicer. More generous. Kinder. I’m just better. Fuck him.

How dared Viktor wind up with a wife when Nero still found himself alone? Oh—his bed was never cold. He always could reach out in the early morning hours and find one or more lovers there beside him. But he was still alone.

Damn that insufferable, emotionless cretin for finding someone like Rose. She was beautiful, fiery, and so adorably short. Nero had been infatuated with her. But now that she was married off to Viktor, Nero knew better than to get involved. He wouldn’t mess with love. That was a sin not even he would commit.

That, and Viktor would probably find a way to have Nero assassinated if he dared.

He sighed and flicked the drachma he was walking over the back of his hand into his palm and squeezed it until the edges bit into his palm. It hurt. Good. It reminded him he was real. It told him he was still alive. He lowered his voice and prayed to the Mother. He wasn’t one for praying to the gods—but this once couldn’t hurt. It gave him hope.

“Can I have one too, Mother? Please?” Hope. What a funny concept. A torch in the darkness, fighting off the cold until the dawn.

“Sir?”

A voice broke into Nero’s roiling self-pity and loathing over his failure to woo Rose Calder. He looked up and blinked.

Oh, hello.

He sat back in the pew and flashed his trademark, award-and-lover-winning smile. The woman who stood next to him did not react. Huh. Usually, one smile from him and women either preened or cowered. Mostly, they did both. But she did nothing at all except wait for his reply.

Nero tilted his head curiously. She was beautiful. Damn. Sensual, full lips that were a natural pink were pursed into a slight frown of annoyance. Instantly, he wanted to touch them. Long chocolate colored hair was half-hidden in the drape of a royal blue robe. The silk fabric draped over a body that swelled and valleyed in all the perfect places. It was tied on the arms in rows to reveal skin that was a shade of warm and tan olive.

Whoever she was, she was a priestess of a high rank. As far as he could remember, white answered to red, red to blue, blue to the purple of the Mother Arkhiereus. This priestess’s eyes were a stunning shade of emerald green. But they seemed unfocused and glassy. In fact, her eyes stared straight ahead as if she could not see him.

Or see anything at all.

Interesting. “Yes, priestess?”

“I would ask you to mind your language and keep your voice down. You are disturbing the other worshippers.”

Nero turned to look around the room. Sure enough, a few people were glancing at him furtively. One old woman by the wall was gaping at him. He grinned at her, doing his very best practiced sneer, promising malice and joy in equal measures. She went wide-eyed and looked away quickly.

Just as everyone should.

But still, the woman over him did not react. Nero hummed thoughtfully. “Am I disturbing them? I’m sorry. I hadn’t noticed. I’m very fucking sorry.” A look of deeper annoyance crossed her features. Oh, yes. She certainly could not see him. No one would ever look at him that way. Well, almost no one. Kema was an exception. He laughed, and her expression deepened. “I had to. Too easy. Come, sit with me, priestess.”

“I have other things to attend to. I will have to decline.” She began to walk away, but he caught her wrist.

She wore some kind of strange metal cuff, like an ancient kind of armor, or a bracer. Many people wore decorative metal bands around their wrists. He himself wore a pair made of solid gold. But these were…different. Weird. They had metal seams and small circles around them. As he held it, it vibrated in his hand.

“Huh. What’s this?”

“Let me go, sir.” She yanked on her wrist, but he held her fast. He was far stronger than she was. Her voice lowered. “This is highly inappropriate.”

He laughed. “I’m highly inappropriate. It’s fine. What is this thing you wear?”

“They help me navigate.”

“Navigate what?” He blinked and pulled her closer. She dug in her heels, but her sandals on the marble floor couldn’t do anything versus his strength as he tugged her nearer to him. He turned her wrist over in his palm, looking at the strange device. Sure enough, she wore one on each arm.

“The world. I am blind, sir. Now, please release my wrist.”

“Ah! I thought you were.” He yanked her arm hard, pulling her off balance, and it sent her sprawling into the pew next to him.

“Stop—”

“Oh, hush. You’re fine. It’s not every day a priestess of your rank gets to sit with a Cardinal, after all.” He watched as the color drained from her face. She sat up, stiff-backed, and her eyes went wide. “I figured you were blind when you didn’t know who I was. Nice to meet you, Ms…?”

She stammered uselessly.

“My name is Nero Finch.” He grinned at her, though she couldn’t see it. Nor did the flicker of his amber eye draw her into his thrall. Usually, he’d put a girl like her under his hypnotism until she calmed down enough to stop fussing. But she couldn’t see him. She was immune.

He was without his handsome charm or his gifts.

She was going to be a challenge.

Nero loved a challenge.

He draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “I have been praying to Hera all wrong, what with the swearing and all. Maybe you could teach me how to worship correctly? What is your name, priestess?”

“My lord Cardinal, I am sorry if I have insulted you.” Her voice was a quiet, frightened whisper. She was still locked solidly to his side. He wanted to kiss her until she melted. He debated trying. It would probably be seen as “debasing” a temple to Hera.

But Hera was the goddess of marriage and childbirth.

How the fates did she think somebody got to that point?

“Insulted? Oh, no, I’m not insulted. You have to do a lot worse than scold me for swearing to do that.” He leaned into her. She was still stiff as a board.

With the feeling of her nestled to his side, he was about to be the same. He could smell her. She smelled like incense and candles. And a little bit of whatever flowery shampoo she used.

At least she can’t see me staring down her robes. And what a view it was. She was endowed by the gods to be pleasing. He wanted to bury his head in that crevice. If he could put her in his thrall, she’d let him. She’d let him lay her down on this pew and take her right here and now.

Perhaps it would be more fitting for the temple of Aphrodite. Hera might be annoyed. She did seem like a right stuck-up bitch.

He caught the glimmer of gold around her neck. A long necklace trailed down in between those wonderful orbs of hers that he wanted so much to fondle. Whatever hung on the end of that chain was buried treasure to him and a mystery he’d enjoy digging for if she—

“Please…let me go, sir.”

Right. He snapped himself back to the moment and looked up from enjoying the view of the young priestess’s body. He shifted his grasp on her wrist to her hand and clasped it in his. It was a friendly gesture. An intimate one.

Her cheeks went a little pink. Good. Yes. Right there. There’s a glimmer of hope. That is why I came here, wasn’t it? Hope.

“Tell me, my beautiful priestess. What is your name?”

She paused for a long time before speaking.

Then with one word, she sealed her fate.

“Hope.”

***

She was doomed. Utterly doomed. She knew it. From the moment he told her his name, she knew she was in trouble.

The Cardinal. The South Wind. Nero Finch himself. She had hoped it was a lie. But when he yanked her down beside him, she felt an unnatural warmth coming from him. He smelled like a campfire. Like a warm summer night.

His voice had a strange, rumbling purr to it. Something that spoke of a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted. It was playful but vicious at the same time. A man who liked to play with knives. A man who liked to play with fire. She did not doubt his words.

And she had scolded him for swearing!

When she told him her name…he went silent. She did not know what was happening. The Cardinal is a madman. Everyone whispers how his power drove him insane. He is a lunatic, and he is holding my hand.

But something about the feeling of his warm fingers twined with hers did strange things to her. Something she could not quite put a pin in.

“Sir…?”

He laughed. It was loud, emphatic, and excited. It was dangerous, and it was joyful. It startled her badly. “Thank you, Mother Hera! Thank you!”

“I—I don’t—”

Suddenly, she was hugged to him with both arms. The small rings of sensors around her wrists vibrated in warning at the sudden movement, but it was too late. He felt strong, like a warm wall. He was taller than she was, and his arms around her felt both welcoming and like iron bars. “I prayed, and she answered. I was not quite sure the gods were real. But oh, fates below, I should not have questioned them. And to work so quickly, I must have done something wonderful in her eyes.” He was rambling like an excited child.

“Please, please let me go—”

He eased up on the embrace, and for a moment she hoped he was going to listen to her. But instead, he placed a palm to her cheek. His touch was as warm as the rest of him. The pads of his fingers were not tough, but not soft either. They were sure and certain and did not hesitate in tipping her head up.

“Oh, don’t you understand?” His voice was a murmur, and she felt his breath against her cheek.

“I’m afraid I don’t—”

A thumb touched her lips, silencing her. When he spoke again, his voice was close to her. She could feel him there, hovering near. “I prayed for hope, and here you are.”

And with that, he kissed her.

***

She tasted like honey. He could not have been happier with the feeling of those lush and full lips against his. He was so overcome by the sensation that he barely noticed the sting that rocked his head to the side.

Smack.

It echoed in the large marble vault.

He put his hand to his cheek, and sure enough, that was the source of the pain. Hope had slapped him! She was standing now, having taken the opportunity to slip out of his grasp. He rubbed his cheek and chuckled. “You have remarkable aim for a blind woman. Although I suppose you knew where my mouth was, didn’t you?”

“I—I—” She looked so frightened. Angry and yet uncertain. She was probably wondering what was to happen to her now that she had slapped a Cardinal of the Dominion.

He stood. Everyone was staring at them, and he flashed his smooth and easy smile. Tugging down the edge of his coat, he took a slow stride closer to her. Her little gadgets on her wrists must have alerted her—or perhaps she heard him move—because she took a matching step away from him.

“Are you going to beg me for forgiveness?”

“I—you—you should not have kissed me—” she stammered. Poor thing. He did enjoy it when they were a little afraid, though. It was so much fun when he soothed their concerns away. “I am sorry I struck you, Cardinal, but—”

“You’re sorry because I’m the Cardinal. Not because you feel you did anything wrong. I see.” He stepped toward her again, and she retreated again. He could see other priests and priestesses gathering in the wings, watching the exchange with wide-eyed looks of concern. But they weren’t his focus. She was. “Tell me the truth, Hope.”

“I…yes,” she admitted.

“Good. Did you not like my kiss?” He took a step forward.

She took a step back. “What?”

“Am I a terrible kisser? Tell me. Perhaps you can be honest where everyone else has lied to me. I have always been told I’m the best. But maybe you can set the record straight.” He took a step forward.

She took a step back. “Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to strike you. But—”

“Answer my question, Hope.” He held his arms out at his sides. He didn’t know why he bothered—she couldn’t see him. But he presented himself to her, nonetheless. “A Cardinal demands your answer.” He took a step forward.

She took a step back and into a column. She gasped in surprise as she hit it, likely having been too focused on him to listen to the warning from her little pieces of hardware. He closed the distance between them. He didn’t care a lick about the witnesses. He was a Cardinal. He pressed the length of his thigh to hers, pinning her to the polished marble surface.

“Let me go, please—”

“Not until you answer my question.” He caught her cheek in his hand again. She was so soft. So smooth. With his other, he let his fingers comb through her soft chocolate waves and push her hood off to her shoulders as he did. “Am I a terrible kisser? Is that why you struck me? Was I not up to your high standards?”

“I struck you because—”

“Answer my question. Am I a terrible kisser, yes or no?”

She hesitated. Her face was flushing so beautifully. He wanted to taste her skin again. He would soon. How he wished he could simply place her in his thrall. It would make everything so much easier. But it was clear the gods wanted him to work for this one. And so, I shall.

“Perhaps you didn’t get a good enough measure, hm? Let’s try again, so you can give me your more educated opinion…” He lowered his face to hers, meaning to steal another kiss. But as he was about to, what he received was a slap across the face instead.

Crack.

Again.

He laughed and pulled back. “Why all the protest?”

“You cannot go about forcing yourself on me. I do not care who you are.”

“You think that this is force?” He hummed. “No, dear, this is nothing of the sort.” The gold chain around her neck caught his attention again, and he smiled. He let his hand on her cheek trace down her neck. She shivered and tried to push him away from her. He shushed her quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. It’s the farthest thing from my mind. Trust me.”

“I have no concept of what it is that you’re after, but—”

“Oh, you do.”

“I’m not—this is not a temple to Aphrodite or Eros. This is a holy place. Let me go.”

He traced the gold chain down toward her enticing cleavage and gently scooped the chain up in his hand. He moved slowly enough as not to startle her. When he held the pendant, he could not help the grin that spread across his face. He knew it was wolfish and cruel.

He was happy she could not see it.

At the end of the gold chain was an emblem in gold leaf. It was sandwiched between two pieces of glass to protect the thin foil. A tassel at the end had more gold adornments. It was a beautiful and expensive piece of jewelry. But it was what it represented that made him smile.

All at once, plans began to roll over in his head. A wonderful game—a wicked scheme—was quickly falling into place. The emblem made of gold leaf represented the temple of Hera.

It was a mark of ownership.

Hope. A priestess of Hera. A woman blind to his hypnotism and remarkable good looks.

And a slave.

Perfect.

She belonged to the temple. He wondered what had happened that had made her sell herself into service. He bent his head and kissed the pendant. Judging by the way she shuddered, she could sense what he had done even if she could not see it for herself.

“Oh, Hope…” he murmured as he ran his thumb over the pendant. “Oh, my beautiful and wonderful Hope. You’ve gone and proven something to me, and I’m very grateful for it. I forgive you for hitting me—both times. Although I think I am going to have to start keeping count.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was beginning to doubt. But this—this right here—is proof.” He grasped the pendant and pulled, tugging her head away from the column and toward him.

“Proof—proof of what?” She was still so afraid. So uncertain. She was shivering, even if she had the balls enough to fight him, she had clearly lost her mental footing. He did that to people. He was used to the look on her face. It was as if she meant to say, “What in the name of the seven hells is wrong with you?” but couldn’t manage to make the words come out.

He rightfully didn’t know the answer to the question. He had never bothered answering it, either when it was implied or asked out loud.

“Proof that…” He paused and smiled. He placed a gentle kiss to her cheek before he whispered, “Everyone has a price.”